#and peppers smug face in the upper right corner

[ainawgsd]

Hello ears

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

[lebenspurpur]

the L-word

|Michael|

the unspoken kind

The smell of the cooked stew on the oven made their stomach rumble. A little bit of oregano, some pepper and paprika were still missing. They hummed while they added the spices. Grabbing a wooden spoon, they stirred the food in the giant pot. They felt like a wizard brewing his potion and the thought made them giggle.

It was dark outside, the chirping of crickets the only sound at this time of the evening. They looked out of their window, hoping to spot a familiar white mask staring back at them but no one met their gaze.

Sighing they walked back to the oven.

A man stepped out of the shadows, stalking their form hunched over the kitchen counter. Knife tight in his hand, he trudged forwards for a better view. The eyes behind his mask lovingly grazed over their familiar expressions and body. The way their eyes glimmered and the corners of their lips curved up, it made him... happy? The familiarity of their movements reassured and calmed him in ways he couldn't explain.

The man sighed and shook his head. He turned and walked towards the main door. "I love you." he thought as he let himself in, "I fucking love you.".

|Vincent|

the quiet kind

They were fast asleep, their chest rose with every deep breath they took. Their hair was splattered all over the pillow. Their expression one made out of bliss.

Vincent laid next to them, head propped up on his arm. The air felt cold on his exposed face but he smiled. His eyes never left their face, admiring their beauty and studying their appearance. In his mind he sketched their body, trying so hard to express the peaceful state they were in right now.

Vincent extended a hand and pushed a loose strand of hair out of their face. His fingers rested on their cheek a bit longer, feeling their warmth. He couldn't help but let his hand wander. It traveled down to their neck, over their sternum and down to their abdomen. He tried to remember every single detail, every scar and every mole he met.

Retreating his hand he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to their forehead. They stirred in their sleep and smiled a little. Vincent let his head fall on the mattress next to their face and hid his bashful smile in their neck.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed their neck lovingly, "so much.".

|Bo|

the heated kind

Their eyebrows furrowed and he rolled his eyes at them. Their shouting made his ears hurt. He wanted it to stop.

So he shouted back, anger and annoyance clearly audible in his voice.

Tears suddenly dwelled in their eyes and they grew silent. Bo felt a shock of pain go through his heart at the sight and rushed forward. His arms quickly caught them and even though they scratched and hit him he didn't let go.

He let them cry in his chest and they slowly stopped trying to escape. Bo still tightened his grip and lovingly caressed their back and hip.

He attached his lips to their hair and closed his eyes, "I'm sorry darlin'. You know I love you. I'm so sorry.".

|Lester|

the proud kind

Bo flinched at the sound of their angry voice shouting at him. He tried to interfere and say something but they threw him a burning glance and he shut his mouth. Motioning with their hands, they argued with him until Bo let his head hang low and muttered a silent apology.

They smiled proudly and put their hands to their hips. Sending a Bo a last hateful look, they turned around and marched towards Lester.

Their steps were energetic and proud and they grinned upon seeing Lester grin. As soon as they reached him he opened his arms and enveloped them in a hug, pressing his forehead against theirs in the process.

"Wow." he said breathlessly and sent them a proud grin, "I love you.".

|Baby|

the flirty kind

She circled her hips and watched them shamelessly gaze at the movements of her hips. Giggling she gripped the pole and swung around, her pretty body moving in ways god never intended it to.

Their eyes never left Baby's body as she finished her performance with a split. They applauded jokingly and she giggled as she arose from the uncomfortable position.

Baby walked down the stage and into the empty room, her only visitor being them. They smiled at her as she approached their seat.

Then they extended their arms and Baby gladly took the offer, sinking down on their lap. Her forehead rested on their shoulder and they wrapped their arms around her. She smiled mischievously and slowly kissed their neck. Leaving little bites here and there her lips slowly moved up to their mouth. Baby finally pressed a passionate kiss on their lips, biting their lip in the process.

"I love you." she then stated and winked at them, "I love you very much.".

|Otis|

the annoyed kind

Otis couldn't help but rest his forehead in his hands upon seeing them try to grab something from the upper shelf. While their darted out tongue and concentrated expression was adorable, he still felt amusement at their blindness. There was literally a stool right next to them yet here they were, on their tiptoes trying to reach the box of cereal with their finger tips.

They smiled upon seeing Otis' expression and giggled, "Oh no, seems like I can't reach my food. What a tragedy that there's no strong man around to help me.".

Otis now groaned but he stepped forwards and grabbed their hips. Lifting them up a few inches they snatched the cereal and he let them down again. Turning around, they pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek and chuckled. "Thank you strong man," they thanked him jokingly. "I love you." they then added and gave him a proper kiss.

The white haired man groaned again and rolled his eyes, "Whatever”, he grumbled the last part quietly, “I love you too."

|Billy Loomis|

the surprised kind

Stu groaned at Billy's agitated rumbling about something. He always ended up like this. As soon as he found something to talk about he didn't stop, especially when the topic was Horror-movies.

Stu grimaced at them and stood up. After quickly saying goodbye Billy immediately started rambling again. They couldn't help but chuckle at his excited expression.

Billy looked up at the sound and stopped mid-sentence. They were actually listening to him. Oh wow.

He was used to people ignoring his words when he got excited about something. That usually led to him shutting up about his personal interests but they were actually listening to him.

He chuckled in surprise and leaned forward to kiss them. They kissed back, surprised at the sudden passionate action.

Billy leaned back a few inches and laughed again, astonishment audible in his voice.  His forehead rested against theirs and he smiled, "I fucking love you.".

|Stu Macher|

the loving kind

They laid on on the grass, fingers intertwined and eyes gazing up at the stars in the sky. It was early in the morning or very late in the evening, it depends on how you want to see the situation.

After a while Stu's head turned and he looked at their side profile. They smiled and tried to ignore his gaze wandering over their features.

A few seconds later their head turned as well and their eyes met his. They grinned, "Why are you staring at me, you're supposed to look at the stars.".

Stu just smiled back and extended his hand to cup their cheek.

"I love you." he whispered quietly and they turned around, giggling like a lovesick teenager.

|Brahms|

the needy kind

"Y/N..." the brunette whined, their name drawn out to annoy them. Brahms didn't get an answer.

He crossed his arms and pouted, "Y/N... pretty pleaseee..." he mewled again and they sighed.

Brahms noticed that they were slowly breaking and smirked. "Y/N.." he tried one last time, this time seductively.

They stopped what they were doing and slammed their hands down. "What Brahms?" they said, reserved anger visible and audible.

"Don't you think I should get some attention? I think I deserve some. Y/N I love you and you love me and lovers usually give each other attention. Pretty please Y/N." Brahms begged now, his eyes pleadingly focused on their face.

They sighed and dropped the rug they've been cleaning with. Brahms squealed as they walked over to him and opened his arms. A smug grin was visible on his face as their body hit his in a hug.

|Josef|

the outraged kind

Their sigh sounded annoyed and Josef gulped.

"Josef we've talked about this." they said while massaging their temples.

"I know, I know but look at it. Isn't it pretty?" he wrapped an arm around their shoulders, "I made it for you.". The smile he send them after the sentence was proud and loving.

"But why Josef? Why?" they said, resignation in their voice.

Josef let go of their shoulder and sent them an outraged look.

"Why?" he repeated and scoffed, "Because I love you?". Outraged he turned around and pouted.

They laughed at his temper tantrum and hugged him from behind. Their head rested on his back, "I love you too, you man-child.".

|Thomas|

the shy kind

It was warm but not too hot, a nice change. Summer in Texas was always horrible but the evenings were okay. Cold wind caressed their faces and the scent of cigarettes hit their nose.

Thomas was sitting next to them on the porch, eyes closed and mask off. He looked so calm, so relaxed. It made their heart swell.

They slowly snuck over to him, a playful smile painting their features. Thomas opened his eyes as they sat on his laps and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Turning red, he wrapped his arms around them and placed his chin on their shoulder.

They smiled and placed their fingers on his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.

Thomas hummed in appreciation. He whispered a quiet "I love you." against their skin and they laughed quietly.

Pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, they chuckled quietly "I love you too, big boy.".

[no-pucks-given]

MATTHEW TKACHUK | KEEP QUIET

A/N: There we are again after some lovely writer’s block! Just want to thank @chicagoblackhawkslover96​ for keeping me sane through out this and telling me it will be okay. You’re a lifesaver. Also this imagine wouldn’t have been here without Taylor and her amazing requests, so thank you as well! This one is for you, love. @joshy-anderson17  

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, some swear words. 

Summary:  This is pure smut. Confiscated panties, a team dinner, a whole lot of sexual frustration and an empty restroom. You thought you had the upper hand this whole evening, but Matthew is always two steps ahead of you.

Word Count: 5.2K

Requested: Yes.

 Annual team dinner, there are worse ways to spend your Friday evening. You don’t mind them at all, it’s a great opportunity to catch up with the guys and their girls while also enjoying great food and some entertainment. You just got out of the shower when you stumbled on Matthew, who was already dressed up and ready to go. “I’m not late, am I?” you ask him, even though you were sure you had all the time you needed to get ready.

He chuckles, knowing your fixation on being on time, he’s pretty sure you’ve never been late in your life. Never. “Nah, you aren’t. Take your time,” Matthew answers, his eyes locked on your body. He sits down on the bed, making sure he has the best view possible. You playfully roll your eyes at the way he openly gawks at your body, knowing it will rile him up, knowing it will get a reaction out of him. But Matthew stays surprisingly quiet, he simply stares at you unimpressed, an eyebrow raised.

Shrugging off his reaction, or lack of reaction, you continue to get ready, completely forgetting that Matthew is in the room as well. It isn’t until you try to pull on your panties you notice his presence again. His body presses against your back, his fingers brush over your arms, until he reaches your hands. His hands cover yours, gently tugging your underwear back down again. “Matthew, come on,” you whine. “I need to get ready.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, sending goosebumps all over your body. His lips brush against your ear. “You do need to get ready, but you won’t be needing any panties tonight,” he mutters against the shell of your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe. His words catch you by surprise, although you can’t help the shiver of desire that runs through your body.

“But I do, I can’t go out without panties, Matthew.”

Matthew chuckles from behind you, before picking up your panties and throwing them on the bed. “Should’ve thought about that before you rolled your eyes at me, baby girl. Now go on, get ready, we don’t want to be late,” he says, lightly smacking your ass before he sits back down on the bed, a pleased grin plastered on his face. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that your panties disappear into the pocket of his jacket, weird.

Just as you finish your makeup Matthew’s voice catches your attention again. “Ready to go?” he asks, coming up behind you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You catch his eye in the mirror, nodding your head at him. He smirks at you, his hand sliding from your waist towards your neck. His fingers wrap lightly around your throat, his eyes dark with desire. God, this is going to be a long night. You keep your eyes on Matthew’s, until he tilts your head and presses his lips on yours. “You look fucking amazing, such a shame we actually have to leave the house tonight.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, you know he’d rather spend his time here instead of going to a team dinner with guys he sees almost every day. “Come on, Matty. It will be fun,” you say, gently nudging him with your elbow. You tilt your head at him, a mischievous look in his eyes, that cocky smirk you love so much plastered on his face. If there’s one thing you know for sure it’s that Matthew has something up his sleeve tonight.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be fun.”

See? He’s definitely up to something, and if your missing panties are any clue of how tonight will go, you better prepare yourself. His words play over and over in your mind, during the walk to the car, even during the drive to the restaurant. Halfway through the drive you find out exactly why it was so convenient for Matthew to take away your panties, why he was so smug about this whole thing. As usual his hand is on your thigh, a habit, something that happens during every drive. Honestly Matthew has his hand on you 90% of the time, so you aren’t suspicious at all.

Well, you aren’t at first, but when his hand slowly moves up towards the hem of your dress you sure as hell have your suspicions on where this is going. His hand slips under your dress and you can’t help the way you open up your legs for him, giving him more room to work with. He doesn’t move his hand any further, keeping you on edge, unsure of what comes next. His fingers brush over your skin so lightly, barely touching at all, however it leaves behind a need. A need only Matthew can help you with right now. The smug grin on his face tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

“All you have to do is ask, baby girl. You know that.”

“Please, Matthew,” you beg, his featherlight touches leaving you wanting more, needing more. 

Matthew, seemingly pleased with your words, trails his hand higher up your thigh, all the while keeping his eyes on the road ahead. His fingertips brush over your core, a gasp leaving your mouth. You see his smirk in the corner of your eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His fingers slide through your folds, drenching themselves in your wetness. “Always so ready for me, aren’t you?” Matthew muses, toying with your entrance. 

You’ve barely nodded your head at him when he pushes two digits inside of you, engulfing himself in your warmth. His words, his teasing makes you so weak for him, so responsive to his touch. Matthew moves his fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way, his thumb pressing on your clit. All the pent up frustrations from this evening, the sexual tension almost suffocating you, brings you faster and faster to the edge. The situation you’re in, the dress you’re wearing, the thought of other drivers seeing you, only spurs you on to come, fast. 

You can feel your orgasm approaching, so close, so freaking close. So close, when Matthew pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and needy behind. “Too bad we’re already at our destination.” Your eyes shoot to his, the confusion and disappointment clearly written all over your face. Matthew chuckles, taking in your ravishing appearance, before slipping his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Better luck next time, baby,” he says, sending you a wicked wink and opening his door to get out.

He opens your door, holding out his hand for you to grab. “You’re a bastard, you know that, right?” you tell him, although you’re fighting to keep the smile off your face. If this is the game he wants to play? Fine, but boy, he better make sure he’s ready to follow through. 

The evening seems to be going well, just as expected it’s been lovely catching up with the guys and their girls. You find yourself enthralled by the stories Jacob is telling you about Sweden. You’ve always wanted to go there one day, perhaps it’s time to convince Matthew to come with you in the offseason. Jacob shares his favourite memories of the country, places you should definitely visit and food you definitely should stay clear off. 

You aren’t surprised at all to feel Matthew’s hand creep up your thigh during your conversation with Jacob. It isn’t uncommon for him to have his hand on your thigh, on your knee, anywhere on your legs, but you know it’s different this time. The unspoken words, the promises made earlier this evening still float through your mind. This didn’t end in the car, it only started there and you’re planning on finishing it here. Although.. Maybe you’re planning on taking home a bit of this sizzling sexual frustration as well. 

His fingers brush your skin just under the hem of your dress, even though it’s a move you expected him to make it still makes your breathing hitch in your throat. No matter what, no matter where you are, his touch will always leave a burning need behind, especially in a setting like this. There’s a reason the two of you go together like pieces of the same puzzle, it’s like both your mind and body speaks the same language as Matthew’s. Every single cell is in tune with his, it’s almost like they’ve been playing this game longer than the years you’ve known Matthew. It’s like they’ve done this before, maybe in another lifetime. 

When his knuckle brushes over your sensitive skin you remember your task, the promise you made yourself. It’s time to play with Matty, instead of getting played with. You cross your legs, knocking his hand out of the way. The low grumble from Matthew doesn’t slip past you, you try to fight the smile that threatens to break through by the annoyance in his voice. You place your hand on his thigh, almost getting distracted by the muscles flexing underneath your touch. Leaning forward to grab the pepper from further along the table, your breasts swiftly brush his arm. 

The way his body tenses up tells you how aware he is of you, how aware he is of your body this close to him. You can’t help but slide your hand further up his thigh, over the admirable bulge in his pants. Although, who are you trying to kid? This was the plan all along, play with him like he plays with you, until he can’t take any more. His sharp intake of breath, his eyes shooting to yours, the surprise clearly written all over his handsome face. Giving him an innocent smile you gently rub his growing erection through his pants. 

It takes him a minute to switch back to the Matty you’re trying to lure out. His eyes turn to slits, his mouth curving up into that famous smirk. He leans in, while his hand joins yours under the table, pressing down onto his crotch, hard. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.” His voice is nothing more than a rough whisper against the shell of your ear. A challenge, a dare to either quit before it gets out of hand or push through and show him what you’re made of. He should’ve known better, you’re never one to back down from a challenge. You’re one to grab life by the balls, maybe this time literally. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Matty. I’m planning on finishing this,” you say, squeezing his erection through his suit pants again. Matthew tries to hide his groan behind a cough, catching the attention of his teammates around him. “Careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke on something.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you burst out laughing. 

Matthew’s hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him again. His lips against your ear, his breathing the only thing on your mind, until he finally speaks. “If you don’t watch that pretty mouth, I’ll give you something to choke on, baby girl,” he whispers against your ear. 

With your hand still on his crotch you turn your head to whisper in his ear. Fuck, this isn’t something you say out loud, this definitely isn’t something you talk about in a busy restaurant surrounded by your boyfriend’s teammates. “You want me to watch my mouth or put my mouth to good use, Matty? You know.. All you have to do is ask.” You grin at him as you throw his own words back at him. You sure as hell haven’t forgotten about that stunt he pulled in the car. That was just mean, even for him.

Matthew’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, forcing you to turn your head again. “Apparently you can’t watch your mouth, so I’m going to give you two options. Choose carefully.” His voice is barely a whisper against your ear. Maybe you’ve pushed too far, maybe you should’ve watched your mouth when he asked you to. But what’s the fun in that? You nod your head at him, bracing yourself for the possibility you aren’t going to like any of his options.

“You can either get up and walk that sweet ass of yours into the closest restroom or you can keep that hand on my dick until I can’t take it any longer and fuck you right here on the table for everyone to see. Your choice, baby girl,” he whispers.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you hear your choices. Slowly, so slowly you move your head to the side and look him in the eyes. Matthew is looking awfully content with your state of shock, his body relaxed back into the chair, almost lazily. “You wouldn’t dare,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice low enough so the others don’t hear your conversation.

Matthew raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, his signature smirk obviously plastered on his face. “Try me. Fucking try me, y/n.” 

You can’t, you can’t possibly take that dare. You aren’t sure he’d do it, but you also aren’t sure he won’t do it. Is that a risk you’re willing to take? Probably not. The prospect of his teammates and their girls seeing something that intimate doesn’t sound that appealing to you. The first option however turns you on more and more the longer you think about it. You sneak a peek at Matthew, who’s still watching you with the same expression. He know it, he fucking knows how much the idea of him fucking you in the restroom turns you on. You fell for your own game. Well played, Matty. Well played.

“Fine. Fine, asshole,” you mutter, while turning around to face Jacob and excuse yourself. At some point you were having a conversation with him, although you can’t exactly remember what you talked about last. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Jacob simply smiles at you and nods his head, before Matthew picks up the conversation like they were talking all evening. You shake your head at Matthew, he really is something else. His eyes find yours, a dark, promising look behind them. That exact look makes you turn around and find your way to the closest restroom a little faster, excitement rushing through your veins.

You stand in front of the restrooms, trying to decide which one to pick. You should go into the women’s, but what about Matthew? He can’t be there. What the actual hell, you’re going to fuck in the restroom, it probably doesn’t matter whether you do that in the women’s or the men’s restroom. It’s wrong either way. Deciding to wait for Matty outside seems like the better option right now, it won’t take him long to get here. If you know him as well as you think you do, he’s as eager as you are. Maybe even more.

You lock eyes with him the moment he comes into view, the dark, smoldering look still on his face. A face full of promises, dirty fucking promises. “Any of these free?” he asks before he even reaches you. You shrug your shoulders, not knowing whether or not there are still people in there. “Don’t fucking care, need to be inside of you now.” Matthew grabs your hand, pulling you behind him and into the men’s restroom. 

The moment the door closes he’s on you. Pushing you up against the door, his lips crushing yours, his tongue invading your awaiting mouth. You moan against him, you’ve waited on this moment all evening. All evening he was all you could think about, his touch, his lips, his tongue, his cock. “I need you, Matty,” you mumble against his lips. 

A strangled groan leaves his throat, his hands grip the hem of your dress, pulling it up over your ass. “Fuck, baby,” Matthew groans as his hands squeeze your bare cheeks. “Should make you go out without panties more often.” His mouth finds yours again, tongues dancing around each other, hands roaming every inch of skin they can reach. 

His hands move down, hoisting you up by the back of your thighs. Matthew walks over to the counter, sitting you down on top of it. Before you can say anything he drops down onto his knees in front of you, his arms around your thighs as he pulls you to the edge of the counter. He spreads your thighs with his hands, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store, a man looking at his favourite meal. “You’re definitely not allowed to wear panties anymore, fucking hell,” he groans as he comes face-to-face with your glistening pussy. An evening full of teasing and edging made sure you’re so ready, so fucking ready for him. 

Your hand finds his curls, tugging at the strands. “Matthew, please. Please, just fuck me. I need you,” you moan out the moment his tongue makes contact with your core. You don’t need foreplay, fuck. This whole evening has been full of foreplay. You need him inside of you, you need to feel him buried balls deep inside of you. That’s what you need. 

Matthew chuckles against your core. “Always so impatient, huh? Give me an orgasm and I’ll make sure you get my cock a second later.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth. His fingers digging into your thighs to keep you from squirming underneath him. “Better make it quick, baby girl,” he mutters, delving back into eating you out like a starved man. 

His fingers join his mouth, pushing two digits into your drenched entrance. His wicked mouth combined with his skilled fingers drives you absolutely nuts. You’ve been on edge all evening, especially after that denied orgasm in the car. All you need is that last push, that last missing piece of the puzzle to shatter around his fingers and come all over his mouth. The sight of him in front of you on his knees, his blonde curls between your spread thighs is your final straw. You slap your hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming out, a muffled form of his name echoes throughout the restroom, your thighs closing around Matthew’s head, while your hand tangled in his curls keeps him as close as possible.

Before you even have the chance to come down from your high, Matthew pulls you off the counter and turns you around. Your hips hit the counter, his hand pushes your chest down. You’re barely capable of keeping yourself upright, your legs still feeling like jelly after that intense orgasm, thankfully Matthew’s hand on your hip keeps you in place. You have no idea when he had the time to unbuckle his belt and get his cock out, because barely a second later he’s buried inside of you. You moan out at the sensation of him inside of you, finally. 

“This is going to be quick and hard, okay?” Matthew rasps out as he picks up his pace. You almost forgot you’re in the restroom of a busy restaurant, at some point people are going to notice your absence. You nod your head at him, while Matthew fists your hair in one hand, the other one still tightly gripping your hip. “Look at me and fucking keep quiet.”

Your eyes lock on his through the mirror, biting down on your bottom lip to keep you from moaning out. His curls are a mess, even more than usual, his eyes dark with desire. As always his smirk is right there on his lips, although the faster he thrusts his hips, the more his smirk falters. He’s a sight for sore eyes, you’d almost come from just looking at him, almost.  

His thrusts are fast, almost punishing, just as he promised you. The sound of skin on skin slapping reverberates through the restroom. You try, you try so hard to keep quiet, but you can’t. Not with the way he fucks you, fast, deep, rough. It’s too much, all you can do is hold on for dear life while Matthew fucks you. The way he hits all the right spots, stretching you so right. Balancing on the fine line between pain and pleasure, although pleasure definitely seems to be winning here. It’s just right, so right. At this point you don’t even care if someone hears you, you’re too far gone. 

“Keep quiet, don’t want anyone to hear those pretty sounds you make,” Matthew groans from behind you, his hips never faltering in their punishing pace. He tightens his grip on your hair, slightly tugging on the strands to give him something to hold on to while he picks up his pace a notch. 

You’re trying, but it seems like you can’t keep quiet anymore. He’s doing too much to you, his thrust hitting the right places, the places that get a reaction out of you. You’ve never been one to keep quiet, you never had to be quiet before. The one time you need to be, you can’t. “I can’t, I can’t,” you cry out, it’s too much, too fucking much. You hear him curse from behind you before the hand tangled in your hair moves to your face. His large hand clamps over your mouth, keeping the noises you make to an absolute minimum. 

Matthew lets out an appreciative quiet moan at the sight before him. “Better, huh?” He knows you’re too far gone to answer him, and even if you could he still has his hand clamped firmly over your mouth. “Need you to come for me, baby girl. Need you to give me your orgasm,” he groans against your ear. 

He’s so close, so close to his own release, but he won’t allow himself to orgasm before you do. It’s always like that, you come first. No matter what, no matter how many times he denies you throughout the day, you’ll always be the first one to come. It’s something he can’t seem to shake off, not that you’re complaining. Fuck no, the moment you start complaining about orgasm is the moment there’s something wrong. 

The hand that just a second ago held a firm grip on your hip slips between your legs, instantly finding your clit. His fingers circle over the bundle of nerves, your breath hitching behind Matthew’s hand. You feel your orgasm approaching, a tingling feeling at the back of your spine, slowly taking over every single nerve ending. It’s like your on fire, lightning thundering through your veins. “Come on. Come for me.” You’re pretty sure you hear Matthew’s voice somewhere behind you, but you’re not even sure right now. 

So fucking lost in chasing that orgasm, reaching the abyss of wonder. It’s his fingers pinching your clit, a last thrust of his hips in just the right place that has you undone. Crying out his name through a symphony of moans and whimpers. It’s a damn good thing his hand is still over your mouth. Even now, even with his hand clamped shut over your mouth you’re pretty sure people could hear you. You don’t care though, you’ve never felt like this. You’ve never felt this alive. 

Matthew’s orgasm follows right after yours. He can’t take it any longer, not with the way your pussy clamps down on his cock, not with the way you pulse around him, not with the way you’re looking at him through the mirror. You feel the stutter in his rhythm, his breathing erratic. One, two thrusts and he’s done for. His hips stutter against you, burying himself deep inside of you as he blows his load, coating you in his seed. His teeth dig into the soft patch between your neck and shoulder, anything to muffle the sounds he’s making, anything to make that strangled groan leaving his lips more silent. It’s a lost cause, his groan echoes throughout the restroom. 

He drops his head against your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “Fucking hell, y/n,” he whispers, slowly dropping his hand from your mouth. “Fucking. Hell. You’re something else.” His hand brushes your hair out of your face, his thumb softly brushing over your cheek. 

You let out a laugh at his praise. You’re something else? No way, he is. “That was intense, Matty,” you say, slightly whimpering as he gently slips out of you. He kisses your shoulder before backing up, giving you room to stand up again. Your legs wobble after two intense orgasms. “We should be heading back, people are going to notice our absence.” 

Matthew nods at your observation, eyes still focused on the mess he made between your legs, the mess that’s slowly dripping down your legs. “Either clean that up or let me get you the fuck out of here,” he groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “You’re looking too good like this, too good to just go back to our table, too good to not take back home right now.” His hand reaches out to grab your face, lips crashing on yours, his tongue roughly making its way into your mouth. 

You moan against his mouth, your hands pushing down your dress again. You’re not going to bother cleaning up the mess he made, the mess you both made. You’ve known Matthew for so long, you know him like the back of your hand. Even though he’s offering to take you back to the group and finish dinner, you know he won’t. Unless you told him to, but you won’t and he knows that, he’s counting on it. It’s like you said before, two pieces of the same puzzle. There’s a reason you work out perfectly together, this is one of them. “Then take me home, Matty. Take me home and show me whatever it is that you’ve got on your mind,” you whisper against his mouth as soon as you break the kiss. 

His smirk is all you need to see to know you’ve been right. He does have more planned for this evening, there’s no way he’s done now. Matthew likes to take his time, likes to make you beg. This barely scratches the surface of everything that’s Matty. You’re in for a long night, you know it and you love it. “Take me home,” you say again, tugging at his messy curls. 

Your hands reach out to zip him back up, it’s almost like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Almost. You turn around to wash your hands when the door to the restroom opens. Your head shoots to the side, eyes locked on the stranger in the door opening. “Uhm, uhh. I’m sorry? I’ll give you a minute,” the stranger mumbles before turning around and closing the door behind him.

You slowly turn around to Matthew, who surprise, surprise wears a smirk on his face. “You didn’t lock the door behind you. You’re telling me anyone could’ve walked in when you were buried balls deep inside of me?” you ask him, pointing a finger at him in accusation. 

Matthew grabs your hand, pulling your forward into his arms. His mouth brushes against your ear. “You’re telling me this didn’t turn you on to no end? You’re telling me the thrill of being caught doesn’t make your pussy wet?” he whispers against your ear. You shudder against him, making Matthew chuckle. It’s all he needed to know. “That’s what I thought, baby girl.”

Shortly after he pulls you out of the restroom and back into the restaurant. You’re trying to act normal, but you’re pretty sure the postorgasm bliss is still clearly written all over your face. Even if it isn’t, your messy hair is a giveaway of what just happened in the restroom. Matthew stops at the end of the table, clearing his throat. “Sorry guys, I’m taking y/n home. She isn’t feeling very well, might be something in the food here,” he says, throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you close. You give them all a small smile, nodding at Matthew’s words.

There sounds a bunch of ‘get well soon’ and ‘see you later’ around the table, before you say your own goodbyes, telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening. However Johnny smirks before he leans forward and catches your attention. “Sure sounded like she had a rough time in there,” he says, the smirk on his face turning into a grin when he hears your groan of embarrassment.

Matthew is sharper than you thought he would’ve been. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny,” he says, smacking his friend on the back of his head. “Eat your food, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Johnny’s laugh sounds throughout the restaurant as you both walk away. You can’t help turning around underneath Matthew’s arm and flipping Johnny the bird, which only makes him laugh harder.

You intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing them tightly. “I’m curious though,” you start, catching Matthew’s attention. His eyebrows raise in question, a low encouraging sound leaving his throat. "Why did you take my panties before we left?" You can't help but wonder why he did that. It doesn't make sense to you at all. Is it some kind of reminder that you weren't wearing any panties? You're pretty sure he did not need a reminder for that.

“He sure has some nerve,” you mumble the moment you step outside and  into the cold night. “It wasn’t that obvious, right?” You chuckle at your own question, because yeah it was.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure he regrets ever making that comment,” Matthew chuckles, his knuckles brushing over your cheek. You roll your eyes at him, sometimes he’s such a caveman. Although the fact that he’ll do that for you warms your heart.

Matthew chuckles, pulling you close to his side as you make your way over to the car. "To stuff them in your pretty mouth if you didn't shut the fuck up." Matthew shrugs his shoulders, while your head snaps to him, eyes wide in shock. Your gasp makes him laugh out loud, squeezing you even tighter against his side. "But looking back my hand did the job as well. We'll keep your panties for another time." 

"You're absolutely crazy, Matty. Absolutely crazy," you laugh, shaking your head softly at your boyfriend. He's something else, that's for sure. But never, never would you trade him for someone who’s less crazy. Normal is boring, normal is overrated. Wicked, wicked is the way you want it, wicked is the way you love it. 

"But you love it, don't you, baby girl?"

"That I do, that I do, Matty," you laugh again, pulling him towards the car by his hand. 

The night has only just begun.

[samwilsonshandsandass]

That’s my girl

Summary: Just a nice evening with Henry

Warnings: Sex, eating out, restraints

Word count: 2006

A/N: For everyone who wants some nice gentle rough dicking down

“I want you to go to our bedroom and wait there for me”

“How do you want me to wait for you, Sir?”

“Undress entirely and put your clothes folded on the dresser. Kneel with your head facing the bed and your butt on your heels. Your arms are to be on the floor as well with your hands in front of your knees and palms up. Take one of the more solid, bigger cushions and rest your forehead on it, then close your eyes and wait. Don’t count the seconds. Just wait, close your eyes and clear your head.”

“Understood, Sir.” You said and went off.

In the room, you followed Henry’s instructions and then waited. Your excitement rose with each piece of clothing you took off and logically, the “clearing your head” part got equally more difficult. But still, Henry gave this instruction and you would try your best to follow. Slowly, after laying your head down you tried not to think of anything and concentrate on your breathing and the feel of the hardwood floor on your legs, arms and hands and the softer feel of the cushion under your forehead. After you didn’t know how long, but definitely long enough to actually clear your head, you heard Henry’s footsteps. You smiled to yourself.

He closed the door and you heard him step behind you. You could feel him squat down behind you, his presence alone was enough to feel but with his body heat on top and this close, you already felt enveloped in him. Safe, no matter who would do what.

Henry’s hands parted your hair to expose your neck and you felt the ghost of a touch on it. His fingers travelled down your spine and with each vertebra he passed, he put just a tiny bit more pressure in his fingers until his whole hand lay splayed just above your butt.

“Close your eyes and raise your upper body.” Removing his hand, he said.

You did and in the moment you straightened your back and neck, Henry stepped forward a bit so his feet were right next to yours and his legs supported your back.

His hands on your shoulders, he whispered “Now kneel on the bed. Keep your eyes closed while you change position.”

“Sir, I-“ You whispered back and gulped.

“I know. I’ll support you.” He stroked down with his hands until both rested at your waist. “Now, raise on your feet. Step over the cushion and then put your left lower leg on the bed and then the right lower leg.”

You again followed his instructions and with his legs in your back and his hands at your waist, you positioned yourself on the bed.

“Good girl.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

Henry started massaging your shoulder blades, drawing circles over them with his thumbs, putting light pressure on your neck with his fingertips and stroking down, then up again. He let his mouth wander down your spine, kissing and licking. When he was at the small of your back, he started biting softly but used his teeth more and more and longer the closer he got to your butt.

His hands still holding your shoulders, he raised again and pushed you slowly down, until you laid on your front on the bed and your head on a cushion again. This time it was one of the smaller and softer ones and you turned your head to rest your right cheek on it. Henry didn’t need to tell you to keep your eyes closed, you knew he wanted you to. A second later you felt why. He pressed himself down on you, his arms next to your head supporting his weight only so much you could feel everything and especially that bulge between your butt cheeks. With nothing between your skin and his. You would’ve seen him be completely naked from the start from the corners of your eyes. And he loved to surprise you.

Now, laying like this, not wanting to move, or even able to with Henry’s weight on you, you sighed when he kissed your shoulder but that sigh turned into a whine as he lifted himself off you and took you by the hips. He flipped you over and in the second your butt touched the mattress again he took your wrists in his hands. Reaching below the bed, he found what he needed; some rope that was long enough to tie around your wrists a few times. Looking at it, you would think it was made of Henry’s blue tank top if you didn’t know it was in the laundry at the moment.

Henry tied the rope around your wrists and took the loose end to slip it around the carved part of the headboard. You moaned. Just the promise of not being able to get away or even move too much made you even wetter than you already were.

“Now that’s a sight I like” Henry said in a low voice and licked his lips.

You closed your eyes at the veiled promise but immediately got a slap on your inner thigh.

“Keep your eyes open. I want you to see what I do to you.”

“Yes, Sir” You said, closing with a moan. Both at the dominance in his tone and him squeezing your right nipple and then the left. The pain of it went straight to your core like an electric current. Keeping your eyes now open, you saw him peppering kisses up and down your belly, occasionally licking at the underside of your breast and then nipping making you whimper at the mix of soft and rough gestures. But when Henry raised up and scrapped his teeth over your throat and started to suck above your collarbone, you raised your upper body in pleasure and let out a moan.

“Careful, love. I don’t want you damaging the headboard. That’s my job” He growled.

You nodded quickly, telling him you understood without words, because you knew, if you tried to speak now, nothing intelligent would come out. Henry scooted down the bed until his nose was above your vulva and his big hands held down your hips. Now your upper body wasn’t the body part that wasn’t allowed to move.

You watched him, just like he wanted you to.

He bend down a little more, flattening his tongue against all of you. His hands held you down and at the same time pulled you into his face. He continued with kitten licks all over you. Your lips first outside and then inside, spreading you with his thumbs, licking a stripe up and down at the junction of your left thigh and your vulva and then your right thigh and your vulva. He nudged your clit with his tongue at first, playing around and listening to your moans.

“Like that, darling?” Henry’s smug face came up for air for a second and then dove down again, not letting you answer, not even giving you the time to control your breathing to get any words out.

He started sucking on your clit now alternating that with humming a deep melody against you. Each time he switched from humming back to sucking you tried bucking your hips against his hands still holding you firmly in place.

He continued this until you weren’t just moaning, you were unconsciously moaning when Henry used you as his own personal instrument and bucking your hips when you weren’t moaning. At the moment both at the same time didn’t seem to work.

Finally, finally you thought, Henry stopped the switching around only to realize he hummed a few seconds more against your clit and stopped.

“Wh- why did you stop?” You squeaked looking down at Henry.

“I want you to be around me when you cum, love” Henry whispered and rose from the bed to get a condom. Putting it on, he came back and saw your eyes glued to his dick.

“And you seem to be wanting me in you when you cum, don’t you?” His smug smile grew as he saw you nodding and licking your lips.

“Well then, should I fulfill your wish?”

“Please, Sir. I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You begged, feeling him inside would be heaven.

Stroking himself, Henry came closer, bent over and whispered in your ear.

“Indeed. You were good, following my instructions, even begging when I didn’t ask you to. Yes, you’ve been a good girl. And good girls deserve getting what they want, especially after saying please.”

“Please, please, I-“ You whined and sucked in a breath when Henry dove into you without giving anything away.

You felt everything. His warmth, his girth, filling you, stretching yourself around him. Henry let you adjust to him and enjoying himself you being around him, your wetness, the sounds you and your body made.

He slowly started moving, in and out. Slow to draw out the sensation, to draw out everything. Henry pushed his arms under your shoulders, grabbing them from behind and pulled you into him until his balls were pressed to you.

You could only moan at it all but that moan turned into a squeal as Henry pulled out until only his tip was in you and pushed in again and pulled you into him by your shoulders, both to have you close and keep you there.

He picked up the pace gradually, becoming faster and faster with each stroke. With each stroke that got faster he raised his torso a little higher and curved his back to slam even deeper. During the first few thrusts the headboard stayed as it was. But after those, Henry switched his hands to cradle the back of your head, looking down at you. And then he started thrusting into you like a man possessed.

The headboard rattled, the legs of the bed creaked and your moans went guttural and Henry’s groans reached depths you had only heard very few times before.

Reaching near your head, Henry grabbed another pillow to put below your butt. With this new angle he got even deeper. Or he would, if he didn’t pull out almost entirely which got a whimper from you. Then, Henry laid his thumb on your clit, still cradling your head with his other hand. Slowly he pushed in again, touching your g-spot and making you feel everything of him.

Your eyes filled with tears of pleasure as that coil in your stomach tightened and with Henry rubbing your clit, that coil snapped and your orgasm washed over you, the small tears escaping.

Coaxing you through your orgasm Henry groaned. He thrust in you, and each thrust was accompanied by his praise.

“That’s” Thrust. “My” Thrust. “Girl” Thrust.

And with the last thrust, Henry spilled himself with a groan and burying himself in you, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

When he came down, he untied your wrists before he pulled out and disposed of the condom. He came back from the bathroom with a washcloth to clean you both up, softly wiping you down. He reached to his drawer and pulled aloe vera lotion and a chocolate bar out.

“C’mere” Henry whispered and pulled you into him, your back to his chest. He gave you the unwrapped chocolate to munch on.

“Show me your wrists.”

You did and Henry stroked them and applied the lotion to minimize burns. You sighed and grabbed the one corner of a blanket that didn’t slip of the bed and pulled it up.

He took it and wrapped the both of you up in it. You curled up into the warmth of the blanket and Henry’s chest.

“This was incredible, thanks love” You smiled.

“Anything for you, love.”

He stroked your hair and combed through it. You wriggled one arm free and started lightly scratching Henry’s chest. A low rumble came from him. His arm tightened around your shoulder and you turned around until you laid chest to chest.

“That’s my girl.”

[brideofcthulhu10]

Oof the thirst is real my lovelies, and it ain’t for blood! I love doing romance and smut writing, and clearly I must have some talent in it cuz you guys are lovin’ it! Thank you to my co-author @imlostinsantacarla! Hope you guys enjoy this one

Lost Boys Catch Their Fem!S/O in the Act [1/4]

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Themes, Smut, Offensive Language

Paul

Paul and yourself were sprawled lazily upon your couch with a horror flick busily playing on your television in the background. The ominous cries of a girl being murdered filtered into the backdrop of the equation whilst the pair of your focuses was fervently purchased on the other. Your lips were molded together in a feverish battle for dominance, one that Paul was surely gaining the upper hand on. His tongue massaged yours, teeth nipping the appendage between his sharp teeth until he provoked a satisfied hum of appreciation from you. However, his hands remained tangled in your hair, cradling your head precisely where he currently wanted it the most.

Nevertheless, there was an edge of frustration building between you both, an intense stubbornness pulsating in the air, each of you far too prideful to give into the sexual tension that had ran astray the very moment that Paul had carried himself through your apartment door and seen you clad in an oversized band tee, leather booty shorts and a pair of knee high socks. The sight alone had been enough for him to almost bust a nut, yet he had to reign himself in; he was all too aware of your weak strategies that you always displayed when you wanted his attention. He had been a victim of them countless times before. Oh, it was deliberate! He was certain of it. You had precisely planned this out and he sure as hell was not going to allow himself to succumb to your sexually deviant ways. Paul was hell bent on getting back at you for the stiffy you had given him: And was not going to back down either. No, he was much too stubborn for that; and unfortunately, so were you.

Deliberately, you parted your mouth from his in a taunting stance, his face instinctively following, only for a chortle to push past your luscious lips and into his ears. Instead of diving back in like you commonly did, you turned your back rather childishly on him, pressing it into his front with the innocent appearance of gaining a comfortable spot. You had left your neck exposed though and his cool breath fanned over the expenditure of it, creating goosebumps to rise across your skin like the dead were in the movie on your TV. A satisfied simper tugged at the corner of your lips as his very own wandered over the soft skin of your pulse point, his tongue swirling around the area out of habit before he bit down and sucked the spot desperately, leaving a deep purple bruise in his wake. A tender moan floated from your mouth, fingers roving backwards into his wild blonde mane. Dammit! You couldn’t let him get the upper hand. So, you resorted for the cheapest tactic in your arsenal and ground your backside prominently into the bulge that had developed in his stained white jeans. This elicited a frustrated and pleased grunt from Paul, his pointy teeth latching onto the skin of your neck harder, almost breaking the skin. You yelped softly, brows furrowed in tender anguish. “Ow, you asshole!” You swatted the side of his head indignantly.

“Ow!” Paul grumbled, teeth nicking the sensitive spot once again, his own hand quick to capture your’s before you repeated the same sore action. “Asshole?” Paul scoffed into your ear threateningly, his arms wrapping instinctively around your middle and bringing you closer to him. “You’re practically dry humping me, Captain Horny! I can smell how wet you are.”

“Am not!” You exclaimed in protest to both of his obvious statements, your face swarming with substantial heat at being found out so soon.

“Oh yeah? Then what the hell were you doing then, hm?” You could hear the smug bastard’s grin in his ‘harmless’ inquiry, feeling it spread toothily across the bruises he had created on your flesh.

“Getting comfortable, dumbass.” You replied nonchalantly, eyes hyper fixated on the television screen before you, although it was only because you couldn’t turn your head to face Paul’s, you’d definitely crumble underneath his intimidating gaze of triumph.

“Yeah, okay, Bugs Bunny.” Paul quipped in conclusion with mock amusement, fingers smoothing against the fabric on your belly whilst his icy eyes followed yours and fixed themselves comfortably on the TV ahead.

For the remainder of the movie, Paul’s calloused nimble fingertips skimmed mockingly at the hem of your large top, the appendages seldomly touched your supple skin. The action created a crackling hot fire to ache inside the nether regions of your abdomen, your thighs instinctively brushing together to create much needed friction, which caused your backside to once again grind tenderly into Paul’s groin. A smug smile spread across your boyfriend’s countenance prior to him peppering breathy kisses into the side of your neck, tender nibbles cascading down the expenditure of it. “What do you think you’re doing, doll face?” He grunted into your ear desperately, the wet heat between your legs emitting a sweet scent that made his head spin. He was well aware of how seduced you were, yet his egotism only proved to spur on your motions in a whirlwind of stubbornness.

A flare of indignance erupted at the seams inside of your chest, blasting hot ash through your veins. In one swift motion, you had collected yourself into a seating position, back still directed towards Paul and his wild shit eating grin. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” You stated plainly, already on your feet as you stomped towards your bathroom in childish defeat. You could hear Paul snicker boisterously from the couch, you could practically envision his head tipped back all the way, that complacent expression plastered upon his dumb face.

“Awe, babe, Don’t be such a sore loser!” Paul called after you halfheartedly, victory dancing sensually in his eyes. Yet you continued onwards, entering your bathroom in a vigoring flurry of intense irritation. You slammed the door sharply behind you, the noise echoing throughout your apartment all while you pressed your back to the sturdy piece of wood before you let out a frustrated sigh of disappointment. Things really weren’t working out the way you had hoped them to.

With a tentative and unrushed pace, you peeled off your clothes, article by article. Your fingers wandered with purpose over the handle of the showers door and you slid it open effortlessly in one gliding motion. You fondled with the water fob, tinkering with it until a warm stream of water and steam cascaded from the spout. Your figure stepped carefully into the steaming shower, the placid jet of water greeting you in it’s scolding fingers as it wound through your hair and down your beautiful body. A content rush of air flowed from your mouth as the heat from the water distracted your mind temporarily from the pooling ache that throbbed inside of your core. You tipped your head back, eyes shutting peacefully as you blindly made a grab for the shampoo bottle, and as if by magic, your fingers wrapped around the thin bottle, squeezing a dollop mechanically into your free palm. You aggressively worked the product into your hair so that it lathered voluptuously, giving you a proper distraction. Though to no avail, as you washed the suds from your locks, your mind's eye only held images of Paul. You nipped your lower lip in between your teeth harshly whilst you slapped on and worked the conditioner through the end strands of your hair. The actions were something you did so naturally, they proved to provide little aberration to your pitiful predicament. Yet you persevered, taking your sweet time whilst you washed the glossy elixir from your hair. If Paul wouldn’t give you what he wanted, you would punish him for being such a hard ass. You’d make him crumble somehow…

That cocky bastard still sat eagerly on your couch, understanding as he saw it, that he’d won the world. Yet he was nowhere near as sneaky as he perceived himself to be. The agitation of failure was muddled when your skin recalled the tender, taunting caresses of his calloused fingers, the sharp and pleasurable sensations caused by his pointed teeth. Even beneath the hot water, you felt chills teasing your flesh, creating unwanted goosebumps. Your nipples stiffened whilst your mind wandered to images of his mouth clasping over them, provoking a soft sigh of pleasure to hum past your lips whilst your thighs rubbed together more aggressively, attempting to create some friction to relieve the dull yet painful ache that palpated inside of you. The feeling haunted you whilst your fingers slid down your front, legs spreading slightly to accommodate your hand as you swirled your appendages harshly on your clit, a slick wetness having pooled down your thighs by now. A frustrated whimper pushed quietly from your mouth as you quickened your desperate pace. Yet nothing appeared to satisfy or curb the intense ache swelling in your lower abdomen. There was a lingering thought that if you waltzed out there right then, bare and wet as you were, Paul would be incapable of resisting you, sheathing himself deeply inside of you…

No! You weren’t going to just hand over the victory for him so hastily. Where had your unwavering stubbornness retreated to? That was right, if you couldn’t beat the smug bastard, then you had to join him in his damned little game. A devilish grin slithered itself onto your countenance as you pulled yourself from the stream of warm water. You turned to face the clear liquid bounding down you, the trickling streams of water gliding to your core, creating a delicious sensation you could not resist. Without much thought, your hand had placed itself around the handle of the detachable shower head and loudly pulled the head from it’s hook. Paul was determined to make you an utter mess. Fine, but you would give him a little show behind glass shower doors. Like a doll behind a case where he couldn't touch. With ease you flicked the little gold painted lock to your sliding glass doors, looking at the misted doors with your own brand of smugness.

You slowly pressed your back against the cool tiles of your shower, ensuring that your front was on full display towards the door of the bathroom. You eagerly spread your legs, crouching slightly before you allowed the shower head to wander down your body sensually. Soon the powerful jet met your clit, pounding a large amount of water onto it. A desperate hitch of breath burst from your mouth, followed by a long wanton moan. The muscles in your legs shuddered, your head tipping back at the sensation of the water pulsating against your core. A string of hot curses flooded from your mouth, along with sweet delectable noises that only seemed to gain in volume whilst your back eagerly curled from the wall. Your knees began to shake, buckling nearly from the satisfying pleasure that built up within you. “F-fuck!” The whine that left your agape mouth echoed, a shrill pleading that was delicately carried through the shut door into the hallway, and brushed over Paul's sensitive hearing still wedged tightly in your couch. The sound perked his entire body up, turning his head to which he glanced towards your room with a perplexed expression.

“Kitten?” He called almost inquisitively, leaning over the back of the sofa, his head cocked to the side. Once more he was met with precious moans that sent chills down his cold back, a low heat rumbling in his chest. “You little devil, doll.” Paul snickered, prompting himself to his feet and towards your bedroom. As he entered the room, your prevalent whimpers, begging for release were practically ringing in his ears at this point. Braggadocio lifted up his head and shoulders confidently as his hand slid over the doorknob to your bathroom and he turned the thing slowly before pushing the door open in one smooth swing, revealing a sight that almost made him come inside of his pants then and there. A heavy mist billowed out, steam weighing heavily with significant change in the air when he stepped in. The mirror was completely coated in thick, slippery perspiration, but those water splattered glass doors displayed his gorgeous prize. There you were tightly pressed against the tiled walls with that silver shower head shoved deep between your legs firing a brutal stream against your clit, sweet legs erratically quivering to match your trembling whimper. Water flowed perfectly down smooth curves, a shrill cry prying itself from your mouth whilst your half lidded orbs bore into his dauntingly, boasting a seductive glow to them. Paul stood there for a moment, hanging back whilst he kicked his feet forward nonchalantly. A low whistle curled from his perfect lips. “Look at you, kitten. You couldn’t wait for me could you?” His tone was dangerously low, pupils dilated fully as he stared at your mouth watering body like he wanted to take a bite out of it. The only response he was met with was another lewd sob, your eyes fluttering momentarily to the rear of your skull.

It was damn near impossible to subdue the wicked smirk that you boasted on full display in response to his conceited attitude, which anticipated his anxious approach with a devilish delight. He had been so thoroughly convinced that he had won, whilst his hands wrapped tightly around the handles of your shower door- and met with a solid clunk. The bewildered blonde blinked for a moment, his smirk wavering whilst he pulled again. Stuck in its place was the glass door. Your satisfied laugh chimed merrily over the loud water, pointing to shower head at the door, giving the glass in front where his face was a hasty spray before you situated the shower head once more at your core. "Who's won now, you smarmy fucker," you taunted, sticking your tongue out at him. 

"Di-Did you seriously lock me out, babe?" he questioned irately, depressing his forehead to the glass to look at the handles. Locked?!?! How could they be locked? You really were a fucking bitch! "Unfair! That's totally cheating!"

"Street rules baby, that means there are no rules. So, you get to watch," you gleefully began, grazing your fingers over your plump breast, “while I… play… without you.” You cooed at him, batting your eyelashes innocently, though every pause granted a treasure-like moan. One hand held the showerhead in place now, pelting violently into your clit, which pushed another crowing moan while you squeezed your breast with the other hand, making good use of your thumb and pointed finger to twist your tender pink nipple teasingly at him.

Paul pathetically fumed beyond the glass, desperately pressing against the glass. He wouldn’t dare break the expensive panels, yet the temptation to do just so grew increasingly whilst he watched you writhe delectably before him. Witnessing the gushes of water running down your legs in torrential plumes, your legs made his gut ache painfully. "Enjoy that bratty little mouth of yours being open kitten," he hissed with a vicious grin, leaning confidently against the door, "cuz when I get in there I'm gonna fuck your mouth until you choke on it." He finished with definite finality, his eyes twinkling with utter determination.

Somehow his threats fell on deaf ears and excited you further, laughter pouring from you between luscious moans as he had issued a challenge you weren’t afraid to take head on.  "An-And… if I cum before you get in here?"  There was that mock innocence lacing your inquiry. You knew precisely what would happen to you, and Paul was on the verge of handing it over to you on a silver platter. You now boasted your own shit eating grin on your countenance.

"You better fuckin not!” He growled viciously through tightly gritted teeth.

Oh, that familiar snarl in his voice made you giggle, loving to challenge him. Just how far could he be pushed before he snapped? Let’s see. Beneath the unyielding barrage of water, you glided your other hand to the sopping lips of your already swollen pussy, watching his nails drag on the glass. "I bet you wish you could just reach out and touch me, huh?” You breathed in a hush tone, fingers working mercilessly on your clit, working you closer and closer to your much needed release. In one swift motion, you slipped them inward, plunged deep inside were two, then three fingers, squirming against the bud inside of you. The sensation almost caused your eyes to roll back to your skull as you worked furiously on yourself, bringing yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Oh God!” You gasped, knees barely able to keep you up.

Now came the icing on the cake. You had begun to cry out his name, watching Paul almost double over, hunching his body forward. There was an inferno that had been lit inside of him, seeping rapidly into every corner of his being until he was melting at the sight of your delicious display. His own panting breaths were dragging out low, desperate grunts, seducing him to moan huskily. He felt the zipper of his pants burst, his throbbing erection aching tightly in a constrictive cage.

Your orgasm tore through your body, head tipped back whilst you screwed your eyelids shut tightly. Your limbs shook ferociously, your body almost collapsing onto the wet floor of your shower. “P-Paul!”

Paul’s name gonged mercilessly in his ears, echoing, before he grasped the handle harshly, tugging with deliberate strength and tearing the lock clean off with a single pull. On shaky limbs you snaked the showerhead back onto it’s hook, a well of pride bubbling in you triumphantly. Look who won after all? Water pelted onto your quivering body as you backed up into it. That predatory glare in his eyes caused you to snicker with glee, you were firmly pressed against the far wall, whilst he slid the door open slowly, licking his lips habitually. Even as he stepped foot into the shower, he disregarded the water that clung to his hair and clothes, in which clutched to his body. His entire figure caged you in between his arms and legs.

"You just had to fuckin' push it, kitten," he snarled, grasping your throat just beneath your chin in a firm, swift hold. 

"How can I resist?" you teased, dragging your hands against Paul's shirt that had stuck to his soaked skin. "I love seeing you so pent up.” You breathed your last statement abruptly, for him to hoist your legs around his waist with his free hand. 

“Well, guess you got to see that," he taunted with a boastful jeer of his own, trailing his fangs up the edge of your neck. "Now I get to play with you all I want," he whispered deeply into your ear, teeth bared as an animalistic growl rumbled from his chest. In a haze, his mouth found yours, a brutal battle of teeth and tongues danced desperately, the previous choreography for dominance erased. Paul was in charge and you were more than happy to oblige. Yet somewhere along the way he’d fished his throbbing cock from his soaked white jeans and he sheathed it into you with a particular hard slam of his hips. Your cunt ached from your post orgasm, a heat pooling there once more. You tore his jacket from his body, hooking your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. His tongue fought to dominate your mouth, tearing off his mesh shirt and pressing his bare chest against your tits. The intrusion left you winded as he swallowed your cries happily, his hips already pounding into you at an unruly pace. His grunts were muffled between kisses, grasping your butt with his hips pressing you into the wall. Wild trails of bites and kisses covered your neck, the concoction of pain and pleasure making you scream wildly, your limbs already quaking.

Paul drank you in, savoring those perfect moans whilst he appreciated the feeling of your nails clawing deeply down his back. "Fuckin' scream," he commanded, licking under your ear. "Scream my name, I wanna fuckin' hear you baby."

And as if by magic, you cried out wantonly, his name praising your pretty little lips as he fucked you into starstruck oblivion. Your fingers wound harshly into his blonde wet mane, tugging on the strands right at the scalp as you whimpered desperately, incapable of doing much else. Stars lined the corners of your vision as he railed into you at an unforgiving pace. He could see your eyes slipping upwards into your head, your mouth agape in a cry that had rang silent and he could feel your tight cunt pulsate and squeeze around his cock. Taking advantage of your gasping mouth he dove his tongue eagerly, almost chuckling when your vulgar tongue clung to his own wildly. A powerful spurt of liquids seeping down both of your thighs as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. “That’s it, take my fucking cock, you little slut!” He grinned triumphantly at you before burying his face in the crook of your neck, hips faltering as he moaned profusely, his fingers digging profoundly into your hips until they were sure to leave bruises. With a euphoric groan, Paul’s hips faltered substantially before they stilled momentarily and he spilled over the edge and into you, his cool seed filling you up the brim. By now the hot water had begun to falter into lukewarm, trickling into cold territories leaving you trembling tightly against Paul's equally chilled skin. Your breath came out in erratic pants against his shoulder whilst you rested your face against his neck. You grinned tiredly to yourself, victory had instilled itself into your lap at last! You had officially won.

“Fuck-” Paul panted, one hand blindly fumbling to the right to switch off the freezing water. He still had you plastered to the wall as he slowly pulled his soft cock out of you. A dopey grin laced his mouth as he watched his seed pool out from you, almost creating another bout of lust to radiate through him. Yet as he looked up at your half-lidded eyes, he saw just how fucked out you really were. He sniggered to himself, not bothering with a towel as he carried your limp form out of the bathroom and towards your bed. “Well, aren’t you spent.” He wise-cracked, staring down at your quaking form, his fingers smoothing down your thighs before he flopped into the free space beside you. His wet arms wound themselves around your waist and brought you close to his chest.

"Pff, says the guy who broke my shower door just to get in my pussy," you taunted with a hint of tiredness in your response, flopping your arm over to slap him on the chest. Your voice crackled huskily into a snigger. Paul chuckled responsively, rolling onto his side and stretching out like a lazy, kingly lion sprawled out beside you comfortably.

"Tease all you want kitten," he grinned fondly against your neck, nibbling at the deep purple blooms on the expenditure of it, whilst his fingers stroked your raw waist. "I still got what I wanted!"

"Just you wait," you purred, kissing his grinning lips. "Next time I'm totally gonna beat you again."

Paul snorted. "Pff yeah right," he scoffed out a laugh, pulling you on top of him, your naked bodies intertwined perfectly. "Admit it, I totally won that babes."

“Well then, I guess we’re gonna have to agree to disagree because I won!” You challenged, smiling up at him. 

"Oh yeah," he asked, flipping you on your back. "Well let’s say we have a rematch, huh? Final round, winner takes all!"

You pondered his offer, your pulsing lips still dripping out juices, back still raw from being rammed against the wall. You were exhausted, yet that taunting grin of his had lit up a fire inside you once again. A quick smirk spread across your mouth, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss until he had lowered his body on top of you. Oh yeah, this time you'd totally win.

"Challenge accepted." you hummed against his mouth invitingly. That was more than enough motivation for Paul to pounce on you. One more round wouldn’t bug the shit out of your neighbors, now would it?

[sinfulsachi]

Giver [2/2]

Kinktober 2020.10.04

Prompt: Face Sitting Word Count: 1,706 Fandom: Detective Conan - ShinRan

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Making it to the edge of the bed was a chore in itself, especially when his legs were still jelly from his release. 

But he was as numb to them as he was certain she was to the slick and slime that clung on her sweet, saintly, tainted face, an aftermath of their wild improvisation five sinful minutes ago. 

Embarrassed yet achingly turned on by such sight, Shinichi wiped her up during the interlude with the tissue he initially planned to jerk off on, and Ran giggled inwardly at his belated modesty.

“I, uh, sorry,” he grovelled.

“N-No, I wanted that too,” came her meek reply, but said with unmistakable glint in her eyes that indicated she truly wanted the mess.

Something must be done with the influx of blood rushing back his groin.

She took the tissue from his hand and proceeded to dab her own face with it, “Mm, I’ll do the cleaning up.” 

“You sure?” he hunched over her, hand letting go of the tissue to allow his arms to cage her on either side of her legs. “So sure,” she crooned. A sign. ‘Now do what you need to do.’

He brushed his nose against her neck, smells her sakura scent, her sweat and his essence mixing on her skin and his mind reeled with rekindled lust. “I owe you big time,” he nibbled on the soft spot under her ear, forming a trail of fresh love marks down her collarbone, “Please, let me treat you right.”

His hum on her skin must have made her head swirl for she mechanically leaned back, upper body propped only by an elbow. That gave him the chance to slide one knee on the bed and pepper her with open-mouthed kisses on the smooth skin of her neck and shoulder. They didn’t know when she finished wiping, when her blue school vest was hurled away, when half of the buttons of her white undershirt came undone. They just happened like magic.

Skipping her chest area, he slid his body halfway down, traced with the tip of his nose a path from under her chest to her navel. “May I take this off?” He asked, hand traveling to the zipper of her uniform skirt. “Yes,” she mumbled, letting the piece of clothing slide so easily down her legs unto the floor, leaving her with her white lace panties that looked so sexy paired with her long-sleeved undershirt of the same color and black knee-length socks.

She’d been very open and honest of her wants lately, and god, was it a turn on. It wasn’t like he was forcing anything on her but instead everything was happening naturally, unbelievable as it may sound. As if Ran woke up one morning knowing exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it done by him. He never thought he’d see her so pumped, so driven like an automobile engine on fifth gear.

He looked up and admired her breathless face. She stared back, eyes glassy and lips slightly parted, one hand behind his hair and the other balancing herself on the sheets. She was beautiful. Tantalizing. His one and only queen.

A queen deserving of a throne.

“Ran,” he climbed the bed completely and flipped so that his back was flat on the bed, crown against the base of the headboard, “c’mere.”

That instruction alone was sufficient to let her follow through. With a blush on her face, she crawled on her knees and slung one thigh over his shoulder, giving him a majestic view of her spread and vulnerable above him. Warm space and damp underwear were the only thing keeping them apart. She pinned his hands with hers on either side of his face, and her gentle palm squeeze and dark needy eyes were enough to convey that which she badly wanted.

He casted a smug smirk and kissed her inner wrist, “As you wish,” before he hooked his arm over her right thigh. His left hand went over her other leg, holding her hips in a not so comfortable but still snug position above his chin.

He breathed her in, filling his mind with the familiar scent of early afternoon and blooming flowers and sex and Ran, before sliding her panties aside with two fingers until he’s face to face with the most heated, most delicious part of her.

“Don’t hold back, love,” Shinichi cajoled, his icy breath against her pink, puffy skin making every hair in her body tingle. He kissed her inner thighs first, lifting his head up to work his way closer to her aching center, and in a matter of seconds her entire wetness was enveloped in his hot, hungry mouth.

He amused himself with the expected gape and throb and writhe of her face from the initial contact, her cheeks turning impeccably pink and flushed, stray bangs clinging to her damp forehead. Thighs shuddered under his fingertips, and he had to strengthen his already firm grip to keep her from toppling over and suffocating him with them. He traced her folds with his tongue, up to her clit where he stimulated her like he’s tickling the roof of her mouth.

Seeing her various blissed out reactions everytime he ate her out was his favorite. He had always tasted her with his knees on the floor or his stomach flat on the bed. But this was a first. Her visage from this vantage point hit differently, and he felt like he snagged the VIP seat to an exclusive screening of his favorite X-rated movie (not that he watched plenty). She looked sinfully immaculate above him with her undershirt undone, green tie dangling loose around her neck. One hand gripped the top of the headboard while the other twined through his soft, disheveled hair. Her hips moved like waves against his face, back and forth, slow and sensual, matching the rhythm of his tongue.

So erotic. So hot. His queen. All his.

“Mmn,” he hummed his enjoyment against her, the ripple of vibrations eliciting a delighted whimper out her throat. This is his queen stripped off of any inhibitions, giving in entirely to pleasure. He pressed an angled smirk against her core, mumbled, “you're so wet,” before spreading her legs further apart so that she sat flat and secure on his face.

Despite his air space reduced to half, he was much too eager to please her more to even think of pausing, or breathing. Lifting his chin up, his nose bumped along her clit as he skillfully slid his tongue inside her. Immense pleasure echoed in her voice as she gasped the loudest, most feminine sound he had ever heard her produce in her lifetime.

From then onwards he couldn’t even think to stop, delving his tongue deeper and deeper her tight walls, the perimeter of his mouth drenching with her warm juices. He drove her mind into frenzy with the way his lips massaged her outer creases while fucking her quite literally with his tongue. He ate her like his most favorite meal, drank her like fresh water in the middle of drought. 

“Shini-... hngh, d-don’t, ahh, th-that...” her voice came ragged, choppy as his tongue returned to lap on her clit in as much a maddening pace as how he did inside her that it sent her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. She seemed to take a liking there the most, fingers burying deeply in his scalp, thighs squeezing him unconsciously and her hips straddling his face in figure eights that complemented the wonderful drawls of her ‘ah’s and ‘yes’ and the airy gasps of his name.

Her breath turned shallow, moans turned into low cries. She was nearing, yes, and there he hit a wonderful spot when her cries went a pitch higher, all the more reason to concentrate his tongue on that one specific point over her swelling bead.

"Th-There! Yes yes yes, oh god-” The explicit string of words he could only guess was involuntarily uttered by those angelic lips was enough of an indication that she’d reached a height out her own universe. Her muscles fluttered and constricted vehemently against his tongue, knees buckling, trembling against his cheeks.

And there above him his queen unravelled, unmindful of her own glorious, contorted expression and the sudden buck of her hips down his face. He opened his mouth wide, catching and tasting everything she rutted on him, wanting all of it and more. He didn’t cease lapping as her fluids dripped down his tongue, his lips and chin, bitter and salty and heavenly, exactly how Ran had always tasted.

Pretty much, he did it. His queen loved her throne.

Her tear-stricken cheeks and astounding amount of come in and all over his mouth were proof.

Slowly, Ran’s fingers retracted from the headboard and her hips raised up to give him adequate breathing space. He hadn’t paid much attention to how close he honestly was from passing out inasmuch as he believed the lack of air was from witnessing her orgasm up close.

Both breathing laboriously, they caught each other’s eyes for a searing gaze, her eyes showing signs of overstimulation and bliss. With his back hand, he wiped his mouth clean of her juices to at least make his face look more presentable under her. But that only made her face heat up like he was doing her again, causing her to hide behind her palms.

“I-, that was...I was... so- I’m sorry!” Though she couldn’t form a straight sentence, he knew exactly what she meant.

He chuckled lightly, licked the corner of his lips for a final cleanup, before shifting both of their weights to a sitting position, she on his lap. “I wanted that,” he gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, “Really, really wanted that.”

She blushed furiously, both because of his remark and the subtle taste of herself from the kiss.

“You want that too?”

She nodded shyly, “Yes.”

“Want more of that next time?”

She dug her teeth on her lower lip. “...Yes.”

“That’s nice,” he acknowledged with a smirk, the image of her beautiful writhing face above him burned in his mind forever, “’cause I do too.”

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Marco’s Home for Lost Boys

GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3 - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 (Or on FF if that’s your thing)

Tagging:

@kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda

Chapter 11: Reckoning

Killian was staring out at the ocean for what felt like hours. He had become so distracted that he hadn’t even lifted the anchor. He feared sailing out to sea in his condition.

He stepped into the bowels of his ship, looking at all the crates that Neal had him storing in his hold and his anger began to rise again. This needed to stop.

He took the photo out of his jacket and his resolve grew. He wasn’t going to let Neal get to Emma. He didn’t care if that meant everyone hated him or that he had to grovel with Graham in order to expose Gold’s secrets.

His entire life he had protected Emma and he wasn’t going to stop now just because he was ashamed of who he had become.

He ran down the plank and made the walk across the parking lot to the police station.

“I’m here to see Sheriff Graham.”

“One moment, let me see if he’s available.”

He nodded and took a seat next to the window. He hated the police station. Just sitting here made him feel like he was already guilty.

He was.

“I must say, I didn’t think you would show.” He looked up to see Graham’s smug face staring at him with apprehension.

“That makes two of us.”

“Let’s talk.” He sighed in annoyance and walked to the back of the station; Killian reluctantly followed him.

Of course, Graham would put him in one of the interrogation rooms. He knew that the man wanted to give the appearance of having the upper hand over him.

“Have a seat.” He gestured for him to sit in the chair.

“I’ll stand.”

“Of course, you will.” He says with annoyance. “So, Emma says you wanted to share some information.”

“Perhaps.”

“Either you do, or you don’t. I’m a busy man so don’t waste my time.”

Killian looked around the station. No one else was there except the man at the front desk. Raising his eyebrow, he chuckled. “Yes, things look so out of hand here.”

“Look, I’m only doing this because Emma asked me to. It’s no secret I don’t exactly like you.”

“Well, the feelings mutual then, Mate.” He plops down in the chair.

“Do you have information or not?”

“I happen to have lots of information, so really it just depends on what kind information it is you are interested in.”

“Gold. Stick to the damn information about Gold. What’s your job?”

“You are already aware that I play pirate on the Jolly Roger.”

He slams his hand on the table. “For Gold. What do you do for Gold?!”

Killian sighed. “Fine. You know, just for the record, I had no idea what he did when he hired me. I didn’t go looking for trouble.”

“Yeah, but it always finds you doesn’t it, Jones.”

“I suppose that’s a fair assessment.” He conceded.

“So, when did you realize it wasn’t on the up and up?”

“After a month I suppose. I was curious about what was in the envelopes I was gathering for Gold.”

“Cash?”

“Aye. A shit lot of it.”

“So, what was the money for?”

“At the time I wasn’t sure. I only picked up the envelopes. I didn’t ask questions. People who ask questions don’t usually show up for their next job.”

He growled, his annoyance obviously hitting his max. “Do you know anything? Because so far, you sure seem to know nothing.”

“Do you want my fucking help or…”

Suddenly the entire police station shook. They both looked at each other. “What the hell was that?”

“Sir, there was an explosion at the dock.” The man from the front desk stuck his head into the room.

Killian got up and followed Graham to the front of the station and that’s when he saw it.

Emma’s yellow bug idling next to his motorcycle.

He shoved Graham out of the way and ran toward the docks. Her car was still running with the door wide open. He looked down toward the pier. From what he could see, the spot his ship used to be sitting had been completely destroyed, fire was burning on the wreckage of what was left of her that was still floating.

He stopped thinking. His feet were numb.

“Emma.” He screamed as he pounded down the ramp to the bottom of the pier. “EMMA!”

No No No!

“Killian, isn’t that your ship?” Graham yelled from the top of the ramps to the docks.

He was looking around frantically. “Emma.” He yelled again.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw red under a large piece of wreckage on the dock.

Emma’s jacket.

His feet carried him as fast as they could run and he dropped to his knees, ripping up pieces of broken wood and throwing them behind him.

Oh God, please be alright.

He yanked the last plank from her body and cradled her into his arms, protecting her head in the base of his hands.

“Emma, please.” He begged, peppering her hair with soft kisses.

“Oh my God, is that Emma?” Graham ran up behind him, “I’ll call an ambulance.” He opened his cell phone and dialed. “What the hell happened here?”

Killian shook his head. His ship was gone, Emma was hurt. He had no idea what happened.

Why was she on the docks?

He rocked her back and forth in his arms. “Please wake up, Love. Please, I can’t do this without you.”

Her pulse was weak. Her hair was covered in soot. She had scrapes on her face and her hands. There was blood on her shirt. He had searched beneath the clothing trying to find the source. As far as he could see it was small cuts here and there. His biggest concern was the gash in the base of her skull. She must have hit her head during the blast.

If not for the destruction around them, he would have thought she was merely sleeping. She was peaceful curled around him, cradled against his chest.

He would give anything to go back to that night where she slept in his bed. He remembered her looking angelic in the hours he stayed up watching her toss in her sleep. If only he could go back and wake her with a kiss and tell her he never wanted her to leave.

“Killian, you have to let go of her.” He felt someone pulling on his arm. “Jones. They need to take her.” He looked up to see Graham staring at him. It was only then that he noticed the paramedics trying to assist Emma. “She won’t wake up.” He mumbled.

“It’s ok, we’ve got her. But we need you to let go.”

He nodded and released her to the man in uniform. He fell back against the crate and watched them put her onto the stretcher. He couldn’t feel anything. He stared blankly ahead.

Suddenly strong hands were pulling him to his feet. “Come on Jones, I’ll drive. David is going to meet us at the hospital.”

He stumbled forward and followed Graham to his cruiser, barely registering the fact that his soot covered cheeks were soaked with tears that continued to fall.

~

An hour later, Killian was sitting next to Emma’s bed, lazily rubbing circles on Emma’s hand. The constant beeps that annoyed him when they first arrived in the room were now serving as a sort of reassurance. She still hadn’t woken up but as long as those beeps continued, he convinced himself that she was going to be alright.

“I’m going to make some calls and see if they have found out anything about the explosion.”

Killian glanced toward Graham who stood from his chair against the wall and walked out of the room. He realized he didn’t even know the man had been in the room.

“I know you’re in there, Emma.” He whispered against her ear. “I wish I knew why you were on the pier or what happened down there. You gotta wake up and talk to me.”

He let his lips lightly graze hers, a tear sliding onto his cheek. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

He let his forehead rest against hers. “I love you. Please wake up.”

Beep…Beep…Beep

“I came as soon as I could, what the hell happened?” David burst through the door and rushed to Emma’s other side.

Killian stood up quickly. “I don’t know. I was talking to Graham when we heard an explosion on the docks. I found her down there.” His voice was shaky.

“Yeah, that’s the story Graham told me, I was hoping you would know why the hell your ship exploded and why Emma was next to it when it did.” He eyed him for a moment. “And why were you talking to Graham anyway?”

Killian swallowed, trying to stay calm. “We have much to talk about, but right now is not the time. I can’t answer what she was doing there or what happened to my ship. I fear I have just as much information as you do.”

Beep…Beep…Beep

David looked down at Emma. “Have the doctors said anything?”

He shook his head sadly. “Nothing, just that they expect her to wake up at some point. She hit her head pretty hard. I suspect it was the railing based on where I found her.”

“I got ahold of Robin and Will earlier. They should be on their way.”

“Ah thanks, I guess I haven’t been in the right frame of mind.”

“It’s understandable, I’m just glad you were here for Emma.”

“Aye.”

The entire room erupted in noise as Will and Robin sprang into the room.

“Where is she? Is she alright?”

There were many questions and expressions of concern and worry and yet Emma remained stoically quiet, her eyes still closed.

Beep…Beep…Beep

~

“You have no idea what you mean to me. I love you. Please wake up.”

Emma felt like someone was playing the drums in her ears. Each loud thump caused her head to hurt more.

Beep…Beep…Beep

She tried to remember why her head hurt.

She was talking to Neal. He was being a jerk.

That was no surprise.

She slapped him. She definitely remembered how good it felt to do that.

But then she had left Neal. She was driving somewhere.

Where was she going?

The ship. She was headed to Killian’s ship.

Why was she looking for Killian?

And then she remembered. She was on the docks. There was an Explosion. Killian’s ship exploded in front of her. She didn’t get to him in time.

She lost Killian.

She felt the tears welling inside of her and she wanted to scream in sadness. Nothing was coming out of her mouth.

Why couldn’t she scream?

She heard a groan. It was coming from her. She needed to open her eyes. She blinked; streams of light brought on intense pain. She squeezed them closed again.

“Killian.” She felt like she had eaten an entire bag of cotton balls as she tried to use her vocal cords.

Her eyes blinked slowly again, lightness flooding her.

“Emma.”

She turned her head, her eyes fluttering, trying to focus on anything in the room.

And then she saw blue. He was there. He was alive.

“Are you real?” Her voice was hoarse and deep.

“Of course, I am Love.” He held her hand in his, her fingers pressed against his mouth as he peppered kisses to her knuckles.

“But you were…” She coughed and her throat hurt.

“Shh, don’t try and talk.”

“Sh..Ship.” She groaned. “Your ship. Explosion.”

“Yes, Emma my ship exploded. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know why you were there.”

“Neal.” She swallowed hard, hoping to coat her throat with enough saliva so that she could speak easier.

“What about Neal, Love?”

She coughed and tried to sit up, but his hands kept her against her pillow. She needed to tell him before something else happened to him.

“Emma, you can’t get up.”

“No, Neal, he did this. The crates on your ship. He told me.”

“Wait, Neal told you what? When were you with Neal?”

“He said you were going to see your brother again. I went straight to the docks; he knew you were sailing, I tried to stop you. I saw the ship explode, I thought you were on it, I thought I lost you.” She was sobbing and shaking.

“Emma, please stop.” He was hugging her tightly. “You need to relax. I’m fine. I left the ship earlier to talk to Graham.”

She lay back on her pillow and pushed the tears out of her eyes. She looked up at Killian who was a million miles away in thought. She reached out and pressed her palm to his cheek and he blinked.

“I’m so sorry, he was trying to hurt me.” He whispered. “Either way, he succeeded because he hurt you.”

“I’m ok Killian.” She smiled.

“What about next time?” His voice raised to a yell and then quickly calmed.

She gulped.

“Get some sleep. There’s something I have to do.”

Emma tried to sit up again. “Killian, no, he’s not worth it.”

He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry Love, I’m not going to see Neal. I’m doing this your way. I need to see Graham.”

~

A day of Reckoning was coming.

He shoved the door to the police station open, the small bell ringing over the door. It was past midnight, but he knew Graham was working the overnight shift. There was no one at the front desk at this hour so he pushed through the small door and headed to the back offices.

Graham stepped into his line of sight. “Jones, is everything alright? Is it Emma?” He seemed less hostile than he was earlier, yet there was something off about Graham. He seemed almost reserved toward Killian. Perhaps it was his concern for Emma.

He waved him off, “She’s alright. She woke up an hour ago.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Oh, thank God. So, what are you doing here?” He asked cautiously.

Killian squared his shoulders. “I’ll help you take down the Gold Empire.” His jaw clenched. “On one condition.”

Graham shook his head. “I’m not a judge, Jones, I can’t promise that you won’t do jail time.”

“I don’t care what happens to me. And you can do whatever you want to Gold.”

“So, what’s your condition?”

“Neal Cassidy is mine.”

He laughed. “Ok Jones, maybe it’s time you and I have a real chat.”

~

It took hours to walk through everything with Graham. He couldn’t tell if the man was feeling vindicated for having a hunch that turned out to be correct or overwhelmed by the fact that the revelations were much worse than he imagined.

“So, what is he trading then? In the ships that move inventory every night?”

“Mostly drugs, but I’ve seen guns occasionally. Felix controls the docks. So, he keeps the inventory log.”

“How did we not catch this after all these years?”

“Well to be fair, he owns a lot of people in this town. It’s easy to cover something up when so many have their hands in it and are making money off it.”

“And Neal seems to be taking on a bigger role?”

He shrugs, “Neal has become a bigger dick if that’s what you mean, but I fear that has more to do with Emma. However, the older he gets the more Gold entrusts him with.”

“Did Emma know that Neal was involved in this the whole time?”

He paused. “That’s not my story to tell. What I will say is that Emma is a smart girl, and she knew enough to remain away from him.”

“So why didn’t you get out? Why keep working for Gold.”

“I had my reasons. None of them will matter to you. I tried to get out. The ship was part of that plan. But things did not work out the way I had hoped.”

“This have anything to do with Milah and how suddenly I don’t see the two of you meeting up at the park at 9pm anymore.”

Killian’s brow raised. “Cheeky bastard.”

“Sorry, but I am a cop, I’ve had you on my radar for a while. I stopped following you when I realized the intent of the meeting had nothing to do with business or Gold.”

“Oh, how I wish that was true.” He said sadly.

Graham seemed surprised. “Milah works for Gold?”

Killian stared at his hands resting on the table in front of him. “Yes.” He said softly.

“I always thought the two of you were thick as thieves back in high school, even when you tried to hide it. I guess you could say I was partly right.”

Bastard.

“My relationship with Milah is not part of this discussion. I will tell you however that she is with Gold in more ways than one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say their relationship is both professional and carnal.”

Graham’s face scrunched in disgust. “Ewww.”

Killian chuckled. “Not quite the reaction I had when I found out.”

Graham continued taking notes in his book and then paused and looked up at him. “We’re going to have to bring David in on this.”

Killian tensed. “I feared that would be the case.”

“I can give you til tomorrow evening to tell him yourself, but after that I’m afraid it’s going to come from me.”

“Thank you, Mate, I appreciate that.”

He looked like he was contemplating his next thought before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you’ve been doing for the last 3 hours.” He chuckled.

“Why are you coming in now?”

Killian met his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocked and found the photo he had been debating on providing and tossed it on the table.

Graham took it apprehensively and then his eyes widened.

“What the hell is this, Jones?”

“I found it on my ship. Before it went Kaboom.” He shrugged.

“And you’re just giving the damn thing to me now?”

A man walked in the room and looked between Graham and Killian before speaking. “Boss I need to speak to you.” He looked at Killian and then continued in a whisper. “In private.”

Graham walked out of the room closing the door behind him leaving Killian with his anxious thoughts of how he was going to tell David everything that was going on and the decisions he had made.

He was never going to hear the end of the lecture once he had the full story. David had the purest heart of anyone he had known and behaving in any way that was less than honorary was a huge disappointment to him.

The door opened and Graham was holding a folder in his hand. “I need you to look at something.”

Killian sat up in his chair as the folder was tossed across the table to him.

“Do you recognize this man?”

He flipped open the manila paper and stared at the photo of a mangled and bleeding man.

He turned the photo over to face right side up and his eyes went wide. “That’s Felix.”

“Well, it was Felix.” Graham corrected. “They just found him in the wreckage on the docks.”

~

“Would you stop fussing, I’m fine.”

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” Will yanks her pillow and pushes it around her back.

“I can still smack the shit out of you! Stop doing that!” She reaches out and smacks his arm away from her bed sheets.

“Bloody hell. That hurt!”

“Will, would you just go out on your date with Belle, please?”

“Oh, I’m gonna cancel with Belle. I want to make sure you are taken care of now that you’re home.”

“That’s not going to happen unless you leave.” She groaned loudly as he continued to fuss back and forth in her room.

“I swear if the two of you don’t stop fighting, I’m going to ground you both.”

They both look up to see David leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a look of amusement on his face.

“Please tell him I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine.”

David laughed. “Will, it’s good. Go. I’m not leaving for a few hours and Killian just got home.”

Emma felt a flutter in her heart at the mention that Killian was there. She hadn’t seen him since he left the hospital last night. He did not return when she was released from the hospital either. She needed to know what happened with Graham.

If she was being honest, she just needed to see his face. She longed to feel his touch again. She was so relieved to know he was alive. That she hadn’t lost him.

“See, I have enough babysitters. Go on your date. You waited 21 years for Belle, please don’t waste another day.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Fine, but you’re a right pain in the arse, you know, that right?”

She winked at him. “Only for you dear.”

“You alright, Emma? Need anything?”

“I’m good David, I’m just need some rest.”

“Take all the time you need.” David switched off her light and pulled the door partially closed behind him.

~

Emma woke with a start in a darkened room, voices being raised somewhere in the house.

She sat up, wincing at the stabbing pain she felt from head to toe.

“What in the hell were you thinking?”

“Not everyone can be you, mate!”

Emma grasped the door and used the structure to keep her standing upright then took a small step into the hallway.

“All these years you’ve been lying to us!”

“I’m trying to make things right.”

“It’s a little late for that don’t you think?”

Emma followed the sound of the raised voices and turned the corner to see David and Killian locked in a shouting match in the living room.

“I get it, you’re disappointed, but I’m trying to do the right thing here.” Killian yelled.

“You almost got Emma killed!” Killian flinched and David took a step toward him. “This is your fault.”

“Stop shouting at each other.”

Both men’s eyes snapped toward her. David moved quickly to her side.

“Emma why are you out of bed. Sit down.” He grabbed her by the arm and Emma yanked it away from him.

“I can take care of my damn self.” She looked up to see Killian masking a slight grin.

David sighed. “Let me get you back to bed. Killian and I were just talking about something.”

“It sounded more to me like you were blaming him for my being hurt, and that is really unfair of you David.”

“Emma, you don’t understand what is going on here.”

“If you’re talking about Gold, I already know.”

David’s mouth parted and he looked between her and Killian.

“Emma.” Killian finally spoke.

“No, you will not protect me either.” She turned back to David. “He’s trying to do the right thing, David.”

“How could you know about this and not tell me?” He argued.

“It was not my secret to tell, David.”

“This is different.” He scowled.

“Marco always told us that it didn’t matter what wrong we had done in our past as long as we allowed the future to lead us to the right path.”

David’s head dropped. “Emma, this is serious. What he’s doing with Gold could have gotten you killed.”

“Neal caused this. Not Killian. Neal. I was the one involved with Neal. That’s on me.” She yelled.

“His ship exploded!” He shouted.

“And thank God he wasn’t on it. Did you think about that? Did you think about the fact that maybe Killian could be dead right now? Because I do. I watched that ship explode in front of my eyes and I thought he was on it. So, I think I’ll take a few scratches over the alternative.”

Her eyes met Killian’s across the room, and he lowered his head sadly, his eyes glossed over.

“So, what the hell do you want me to do now?” David sighed. “All is just forgiven?”

“No, I get that you are upset and I’m not telling you that we just let it go. But right now, we need to help Killian make this right. Because ridding this town of Gold isn’t going to be easy. Hell, just a few months ago you thought all this was a conspiracy that Graham made up in his head. It’s been going down right in front of your face for years, David.”

“And that makes it ok, because I didn’t see it?”

“No, but we’re family. And that means we stand by each other.”

“Thank you, Swan.” Killian said weakly. “David, I want to fix this. Things are getting out of hand.”

David laughed. “You’re telling me!”

“People are getting hurt, killed. They found one of Gold’s men on the pier when they were cleaning up the wreckage. Things are escalating, David.”

David hung his head and sighed loudly. “Ok. Let’s just deal with the problem at hand first, then we will all sit down, as a family, and work through this.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, Mate.”

There was a loud knock on the door and David and Killian exchanged glances.

David walked to the door with his hand on his hip, cautiously touching the pistol that was attached there.

He opened the door slightly before standing down. “Hey Graham, what’s going on?”

Graham stepped into the house with a serious look on his face.

“I fear I’m not here for a social visit.” He frowned and then stepped toward Killian.

“What’s happened?” Killian asked.

“Jones, I’m afraid I need to take you in to the station, I have an arrest warrant.”

Emma stepped forward between the two men. “What the hell for?”

“Emma please, we can talk about this at the station.” Graham pulled his handcuffs off his belt as Emma stared in horror.

“Mate, can you at least tell me what I’m being arrested for?”

“Killian Jones, you are under arrest for the murder of Felix Hernandez.”

Notes:

Not sure how many chapters are left. I had originally planned to go to 15 but I just wrote what I thought was going to be Chapter 13 and only used the first 3 notes from my plan so this might go a bit past 15 but not too many past :) Thanks again for sticking around.

[beyoncesdragon]

Sokovian Bastard Pt.2 (Pietro Maximoff)

Requested: No

Warnings: swearing, cocky Pietro and jealous reader, swearing and uhm..yeah, swearing. 

Summary: Being an avenger has never been easy, and after a certain Sokovian joins the team, it really just does not help your concentration. At all. Especially because the two of you just wouldn’t get along.

a/n: SORRY I had to make 2 Parts, Tumblr was bitching around  somehow not working, I hope its not a bother, sorry sorry sorry...

My Masterlist 

Part I

He just laughed and gave a side eye. “And you could’ve also finished that soldier on your own, I bet?” I huffed again. “I had it under control.” That made him laugh even louder. “Just shut up.” And I did, trying to ignore how good it actually felt to have his arm wrapped around me.

“Still in bed, princess?” I looked up from my book as the familiar accent ripped me out my imagination. “What does that mean, speedster. I had a five centimeter deep, burned-in bit to cure, I don’t know how fast you expect me to get up and fight again.” He said nothing, just leaned against the doorframe of the medical complex. “Besides, it’s been a day.” I continued, eyes wandering over his face. “And I heard that they had wonderful doctors here…you’re just being lazy.” I closed my book and pushed myself up. “That too, but that is not your business to mingle in. Sod off Mr. Speedy Gonzales.” He snorted and shook his head. “I came because Stark was asking if you would still attend to the party tonight?” I shrugged. “Probably yes. Why wouldn’t he just send FRIDAY?” he now shrugged, clicking with his tongue impatiently. “How would I know. See you tonight then.” And with that he was gone. I frowned confusedly. “Whatever that has been again…” I mumbled under my breath, pushing the covers back. Pietro was right…I was just being lazy. 

Miss Cho was alright with me leaving, she knew that I was healed again. On my question if she would come too tonight, she shrugged reluctantly, before slyly asking if not Thor would attend too. That made me giggle as I promised her that I would ask for her before I left. After I took a shower, I inspected my hip. The injury was almost completely gone already, the special cell-manipulating technique they had seemed to work fantastically. I was positive that I could attend the party tonight. But first, I had to ask Tony about Thor. “FRIDAY, where can I find Tony?” I asked loudly, pulling a pair of jeans and a white sweater over my shivering body before heading out again. “In the kitchen track, accompanied by Miss Romanoff, Mr. Barton and the Maximoff twins.” Was the immediate answer and I nodded. “Thank you FRIDAY.” “Nothing to thank for Miss.”

“Look who came back from the dead!” Clint cheered as I entered the wide kitchen. Wanda hugged me immediately, a hug I returned with pleasure. “Yeah, death might be a bit exaggerated but…I’m back.” I grinned over Wanda’s shoulder and Nat laughed. “Hungry?” I nodded quickly. “A little bit…ah Tony.” I called out, and he lifted his head. 

“Yes darling? I too am obviously ecstatic that you’re back, I was just a little occupied with Pepper…how can I help.” I grinned at him before taking a seat at the bar. “I just wanted to ask if a certain god of thunder would attend too tonight?” Tony (as well as the others) shot me a surprised glance. “Asking for a friend, obviously.” I added with a chuckle, taking a sip of a smoothie Nat had handed me. 

“You do know that he has a girlfriend right?” I rose my eyebrow. “Lovely Pietro, I do. However, that doesn’t change the fact that he is nice to look at, right? And also, as I already mentioned, I am not asking for myself. Maybe you should get your “wandering mind” under control.” I gave him a taste of his own medicine now and he clearly remembered. “Sure I do. I can also get you one or two magnifying glasses so you and your “friend” can intensify your ogling.” He snapped, getting up from the chair he’d sat on. My eyebrow wandered up even higher. “Look at you Maximoff, are you jealous you don’t get my unshared attention?” I slid off my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, just like he tended to do it. With a few steps he had planted himself in front of me, staring down with an irritated glare. “Are we a bit needy today, speedster?” I taunted softly, my lips curling up amused. His eyes burned like two blue suns, irritated but then again, I meant to catch a hint of amusement in between the whirl of upset. “Look who’s cocky now…” he pushed out before speeding out of the door in a second. “Coward!” I mocked laughing, turning back to Nat, Clint, Tony and Wanda.

 “Sorry…now, is Thor coming?” Tony just nodded. “I uhm, think so.” He said slowly, clearing his voice. “The two of you should really just…make out or something. The tension…” he exclaimed dramatically, setting my cheeks on fire. “Not gonna happen Tony.” I mumbled embarrassed, leaving the kitchen now as well, Nat’s drink in my hand.

Just hours later, the healthy smoothie had been replaced with a pink cocktail, again, by Natasha. She had her arm linked with mine, a similar drink in her hand as well and we walked towards the couch. “Look at the ladies tonight!” Someone suddenly roared and we snapped around, finding Thor himself standing behind us with opened arms. “Well, look at you Odinson. In a suit and all!” I laughed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Natasha simply nodded politely, a warm smile on her face. “Yeah, that cape is sometimes a’lil in the way.” He mumbled, brushing over the jacket. In this moment, Wanda joined us. “How’s Jane doing?” I asked, giving Wanda a smile and immediately after whistled quietly. She looked amazing. “Lass’s doing well. Travelin’ around in those planes and what not. But she’s doing great, I suppose!” Thor smiled happily, giving my back a friends tap. Though it was so powerful, that I almost tripped over. “Sorry lass.” He mumbled immediately, grabbing my arm to stabilize me again. 

In the corner of my eyes I saw Pietro looking over to us, giving me a harsh glare before downing his drink. I rose my eyebrows at him before I waving it off. “That’s alright Thor, don’t worry.” He let go of my arm. “I’ll go over to Banner…see ya in a bit!” he excused himself with a smile. “I’ll join! If you don’t mind?” Nat piped in, squeezing my arm softly before making her way with Thor over to the balcony. I relinked my arm with Wanda’s turning her around towards the bar. 

“You don’t even have a drink…what can I get you?” She grinned surprised. “Whatever there is…but make it strong. I don’t think I can survive your and my brothers bickering else any longer.” I giggled softly, preparing her glass. “Sorry we don’t get along. Him and I…that’s just not working out.” I explained, searching for a bottle of vodka. “Or you should just make out already.” Wanda repeated Tony’s words and I snorted. “I bet he’d rather jump out of the window than that.” “And you? You wouldn’t?” I stopped preparing her drink for a second. Would I really mind? How fucked up that actually was…I wouldn’t. “Of course I would.” I stuttered a bit too late, feeling my face grow warm. Wanda just hummed. “You know…he came and checked up on you when you were in medical treatment.” She then said and I snapped up. “What?” my eyes darted over to him, confused about what I was supposed to say now. “Yeah he was quite worried.” My eyes trailed over his face and upper body as I watched him chat with Maria. She tilted her head back as she laughed at something he said and a smug smirk formed on his face. “Well however, I’m clearly not his type though.” I said with wink, handed her the drink and walked over to the couch where Tony, Steve, Rhodey and Clint sat around, along with a few other people. 

“…and then suddenly this big dude jumped out of nowhere…a mutant probably.” Rhodey just said, taking a sip from his beer. “What is he talking about?” I whispered into Clint’s ear as I sat down. “About our mission, two days ago. Looks like you weren’t the only one who crossed path with a mutant.“ he whispered back before listening to Rhodey again. He had a funny way of telling stories and it was great listening to something you experienced told by someone else. 

“And let’s not forget our two lovebirds teaming up!” Steve suddenly mentioned and I snapped up. “Excuse me Captain, I was in a quite tricky situation there and had literally no other choice than let him help me.” I defended myself and Tony grinned. “Well, Pietro over there had an eye on you the whole time, so I knew I wouldn’t have to help.” My eyebrows shot up at that. “He had?”  Tony nodded smugly. “Maybe. But you should go and ask him yourself.” Steve nodded quickly. “You really should, because it also looks like agent Hill is stealing your man.” I emptied my drink with a huff and got up. “Hill’s not doing anything.” I mumbled, and those idiots cheered immediately. “So he is your man though?” Tony yelled and I flinched, scoffing at him as I walked towards Pietro and Hill. Pietro’s eyes immediately fell on me as I approached and just seconds after he leaned just a bit closer to Hill than it would’ve been necessary. 

I slowed down and bit my lip…why should I even bother them. 

It was clear that he had an interest in her, and also he wanted to annoy me, but if it worked that well…probably I should approach him. His satisfied grin however made me rethink and I continued to walk towards him. 

“Maximoff.” 

“Princess.” 

“I heard you had had an eye on me back in the field…wanted to thank for that.” His eyebrows shot up slightly. “Also, cute of you that you checked up on me while I was in treatment.” I added, seeing him grow slightly nervous. “And the one who told you that was…?” “Wanda, Steve, Tony…” I started, feeling my lips twitch slightly. He was embarrassed and that was wonderful. “Well, you’re welcome I guess.” He said, clearing his throat. “Maria and I were about to grab some drinks and then excuse ourselves. She wanted to show me something in the lab…you would be so kind and tell the others, right princess?” he suddenly asked sweetly, a coy look in his eyes. Well, well, well…how the tables have turned. 

“Why don’t you tell them yourself?” I replied, honeyed voice layered with venom. Show him something in the lab my ass. His eyes light up as he probably caught on to my sudden and uncomfortable jealousy and his lips turned up. “How mean.” I shrugged before turning around, not looking at Maria once and walking towards the balcony. I wanted to find Banner and Thor and Nat, maybe down some shots with her. “Just a second Maria…” I heard the Sokovian mumble before he suddenly appeared next to me. “Now…who was green-eyed now, princess?” I snorted, keeping my steady walk towards the balcony. “If this is what this was about, then that was very unfair towards Maria. Go and apologize, then go and fuck yourself.” He just chuckled. “Cute. So you were jealous.” The cold air hit me as I stepped outside, no sign of Thor, Banner or Nat to be seen. Shit. 

“I don’t know if you can remember but haven’t I said something about your ego before…” I snapped, turning around to him. “You always get snappy when I’m right, have you noticed? And also, I heard them calling me your man….is that how you refer to me now?” I could feel my blood shooting to my face. “I wasn’t calling you that. They did.” He hummed amused, suddenly leaning forwards to trap me between his arms and the glass balustrade. “And you said…?” I gulped. I said nothing because…why haven’t I? 

“I said nothing.” I just replied, feeling intimidated by his sudden closeness. “What is this Pietro? I though we don’t like each other?” he tilted his head. “I don’t like you.” ouch, a bit rough now, huh. “You’re annoying, loud, snappy, sassy, cocky and a know it all. You are an insufferable tease and hold grudges forever because if you wouldn’t, you would’ve forgiven me for pushing you off that balcony because I apologized…” I wanted to reply something but he pressed his finger against my lip, “then again you wish me luck, blush easily when others comment about us, are annoyingly funny and witty and apparently a good friend to everyone but to me and, to make matters worse, despite your dislike you seem to have against me, you get jealous so ridiculously easy. I don’t even know what I should think about you.” he rambled and I could only stare. 

Everything he said was how I felt about him, his idiotic jokes, his smile, his teasing, his witty and sassy comebacks, his know it all attitude I hated so much, his mean comments and self-esteem shattering remarks, his nicknames he had for me and how beautiful he looked right in that moment as he had me trapped now not only mentally but physically. And I was whipped as well as angry, because…because I held a grudge? Because we took such a long time to talk? Because I still couldn’t help but wish I wouldn’t have to hide that I’d found him attractive and intriguing and all of that? I didn’t even know. But what I did know was, that him making me jealous on purpose was cocky. So cocky that it seemed to be the only thing my overwhelmed brain could muster to mumble. 

“Well then don’t flirt with Hill, you sokovian bastard.” He stopped for a second, eyes flickering over my face. “Well then don’t look.” I frowned. 

“Cool speedster, then stop smirking the way you do, looking the way you do, cut your hair and dye it yellow and purple and look ugly, stop wearing those skin-tight shirts and tops around the building, stop working out and stop getting buff, stop making doe eyes whenever you want something, stop chewing on your lips when you think, stop annoying me twenty-four seven, stop calling me princess, go get a face lift and grow old and fat and stop making me look!” I bubbled out, outraged about his arrogant comment. Ignorant bastard. “Look at you princess.” He coed suddenly, his voice dripping of self-satisfaction. “You pay attention to details hm?” I gulped angrily, not saying anything. “’Suppose you spent enough time staring then.” 

He pushed himself off the balustrade, crossing his hands behind his back. “Now, I am pretty sure I left Hill waiting for too long already and the others are missing you…see you tomorrow I suppose?” and with that he turned and walked away. 

That was the last straw. I basically exploded, I was so angry. “Oh you are not doing that.” I hissed, walking up on him angrily. “You are not walking off like that, after everything you just heard!” he stopped, turning around to me. Again, this cocky twinkle in his eyes. 

“Then what would you have me do instead, princess?” he asked soft, mockingly, knowing. I was aware that practically every avenger including Maria who had her focus on him anyways, was watching right now. But I count quite get myself to care. “I don’t know Maximoff, but walking off like a goddamn…chaperone is not what I let you get away with, believe me!” I spat out, feeling how hurt now bubbled up in between the anger. “That was what I meant…so ridiculously easy jealous.” He whispered amused before suddenly dipping down and pressing a feathery kiss to my lips. I froze, my brain simply gave up and wasn't even trying to grasp what just happened. 

“I will be right back princess, she is just transmitting my data onto FRIDAY’s database so I too, can access the liquor cabinet with the beloved booze.” He grinned softly, dipping down for another kiss and I made wide eyes. “You are kidding me right?” he shook his head slowly. “Not at all. But taking that you kissed me back and all…you are now free to call me your man, if that is what you’re into, alright?” he winked, cocky as ever but with a soft blush on his cheek. 

“You are the worst. Literally, the worst Pietro. And I will never stop calling you names, just because you did that.” He laughed softly before carefully wrapping his arm around my waist. “I can live with that…now let me just go and get some booze yeah? We luckily live here, so we don’t have to take a taxi back to my place…” I blinked surprised. “So confident already.” He just laughed. 

“As if you would say no...princess.”  

[ajoy3fanfics]

Confessions

Chapter 80 left me reeling. A quick fic to help ease the wait until next week 

Apollo rapped on the window, his golden eyes burning through the glass, instantly setting the King of the underworld on edge.

Normally the pompous purple God looked smug and self-satisfied, but tonight he wore a different expression- one of anger and contempt.

“Ugh” Hades groaned, low enough so that only Persephone could hear. “It’s that damn sun God. What does this moron-“ He glanced at Persephone mid eye roll, catching the way she had sat upright, posture stiff. He felt his shoulders sag, concern coursing through his body at her sudden change. “Hey,” He tilted his head, trying to get a better read of her features. “You okay?”  

Another rapid knock on the glass made Hades set his jaw. There had always been something about Apollo that rubbed him the wrong way, but that was nothing new; Having spent most of his life being feared and ostracized he often found the Gods in Olympus tiring; But to see Persephone act this way, like she was on guard… That was something he didn’t expect. Reluctantly, he pressed the button to roll down his window, a scowl marring his handsome blue face. “What?” He asked in a clipped tone.

Apollo said nothing at first, choosing to look over the pair in the car. They had seemed close- disturbinglyclose before he had interrupted. He hadn’t meant to lurk- that wasn’t his intention- he merely wanted to talk to the goddess, and since she refused to answer his calls or reply to his texts she gave him little choice but to ambush her unannounced and corner Persephone in her own home. Her fault, really, when he thought about it.

But then he saw them.

Persephone never smiled at him, let alone laughed. Whenever he caught her attention her face twisted in anger, in disgust, in a way that no woman had looked at him before; a part of him liked her that way, liked knowing the effect he had on her, that it was something special- just for the two of them. Shewas special. Mortals and Goddess’ alike flocked to his side, ready to fall to their knees to please him, but Persephone- Persiepushed him away, ever the mix playing hard to get. It was a game that set his veins on fire, burning lust coursing through him.

But with Hades- freaking HADES! she looked so free and light hearted. It enraged him. He wanted to snatch her away, hold her close until the splendid light she emitted was extinguished. Letting out an unsteady breath, Persephone closed her eyes, trying to gain a sense of composure before cutting them his direction, a move that was not unnoticed by the King of the underworld.

“Persie, I’ve been waiting for you.” Apollo flashed the pair a handsome grin as he leaned down to the partially opened window. Persephone furrowed her brow as she shifted away, moving closer to Hades, instantly setting Apollo off. Him? She wants to be near the King of the creepy crawlies?! “Where have you been?” He asked, doing his best to keep his temper calm and sound smooth.

“Don’t call me that.” She ground out, twisting the buckle across her lap. Hades leaned in, desperate to console the woman to his side. He had never seen her so tense; Just a moment ago she had been smiling, tender and sweet; now he could see the muscles in her jaw clench as she hung her head low. “And it’s none of your business where I’ve been.” She added for good measure.

“Come on-“ He sang, leaning in more. “I was worried about you! You shouldn’t be out so long, especially with men.” He shot Hades a hard glare.

“Persephoneis my employee.” Hades cut in, refusing to let Apollo continue on. “As well as a friend. Besides-“ His sharp eyes narrowed as he cut Apollo down to size “ -What Persephone does in her spare time is none of your concern.”

The sun god gave a wry smile. “You seem to be taking up a lot of it lately, don’t you?” He spoke, addressing Hades in challenge. “Of courseI’d be worried about this lost little lamb. You never know what wolf is ready to eat her up.” Keeping her head low, Persephone gripped her belt tighter, hands clenching as she tried to keep herself in check. She had already shown Hades so many unpleasant sides; she didn’t want him to see this. “Persie,” Apollo tried, lowering his voice so a sing song level, “you know Artemis is worried about you, right? Think about the rumors that happened last time. What about your scholarship? Do you want to jeopardize that?”

Should she just get out? She could unbuckle, give Hades a quick goodbye and deal with Apollo on her own. He had been sending advances her way, and Gods knew he was pushy. She didn’t want to be alone with him- the thought terrified her- but she would rather handle this away from Hades.

Reaching through the window, Persephone felt rather than saw, the large purple hand grab her upper arm, rubbing it up and down. “I can’t have my best girl-“  

“Don’t touch me!”She screamed, thorns sprouting around her pink locks as they curled at the ends. Her large eyes became blood filled with fury and for the first time Apollo had a moment of pause. Taking advantage of his sudden stillness, the withdrawal of his hand, Persephone blinked rapidly, doing her best to appear composed, willing her heart to calm . “I- I can get out on my own.” She stammered. She turned to the man at her side, ready to say her goodbyes.

“Than-“

Hades put his arm across her stomach, preventing the pink goddess from leaving. “We’re going.”

She looked at him, eyes wide in shock, surprised that he could read her so easily, know what she needed without words. Hades locked the door, the soft ‘click’ making Apollo grimace. “We’ll talk later.” Hades promised. “For now, stay the Hell away from her.”

The sun God watched, seething with rage as the sports car drove off, his girlin the passenger seat.

~.~

Hades head was spinning, trying to piece together what in Olympus was happening. One minute he was sharing a tender moment with the Goddess of spring, praising her for her untainted view of the world, and the next she looked fit to murder her roommate’s brother. Whatever was causing her this abrupt mood change was enough to upset him; no one fucks with the goddess of spring. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it was becoming increasingly hard as a heavy silence fell over them. Once he was sure they were far enough away, Hades pulled the car over, a look of worry causing his forehead to wrinkle.

“-K-Kore…” He stammered, genuinely concerned. She leaned back into the seat, tilting her head up to the sky as she covered eyes.

“I’m okay.” She answered, “Please, just don’t… don’t look at me right now.”

Taking her small hands in his own, he pulled them away from her face, revealing her swollen, red eyes. “Kore…”He had no idea what was wrong- he wasn’t even sure he wanted to- but he leaned over to gather the little goddess into his arms. Her plush body stiffened at first, but instantly relaxed into his, molding into every corner and crevasse. He felt her body shudder as she let out a sob, gripping her fists into his coat, hanging onto him desperately. Smoothing down her thick locks, he tried to reassure her- of what he didn’t know- he simply kept repeating over and over again that he was there, he was there.Without thinking, he peppered kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, anxious to ease her pain, to take it on as his own.

He waited for her signal, waited for her breathing to even out as he leaned his forehead against his own. Earlier today he had been agonizing over how to put space between the spring goddess and himself; right now all he wanted to do was drag her body in closer. “Do you want me to take you somewhere?” He whispered.

Where could she go? Certainly not home- Apollo would be waiting. And what about Artemis? Did he tell her? Would she catch wind of what happened? Persephone was sure he would spin some tale and blind his sister; he did not seem to take rejection lightly.

She could retreat back to her mother, but she knew that if she stepped foot on the island, mother might never let her step off again. No, going back home was out of the question; she was no longer a caged bird longing for freedom.

There was always Eros. He knew about her situation, and he was sure he would take in her happily… but his mother scared her at the best of times, and besides that…

“Can I go home with you?” She asked in a voice so low Hades had to ask if he heard right.

“Wit-With me?” He stuttered. Scared of rejection, she inched away.

“S-Sorry, that was really rude of me.” Persephone bit her bottom lip as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.” Stupid village girl. Of course he doesn’t want you there! And on top of it he’s got a girlfriend! Stupid-“

A pair of strong hands reached out, cupping her cheeks, drawing her attention back on the devilishly handsome King.

“Of course you can stay… if you want to- that is- I mean- Stay forever! I-.” Hades let out a sigh as he closed his eyes, refusing to let her go, stroking her blushing cheeks. “You’re always welcome in my home.” He smiled and she gave a weak one in return.

It was eating him up. The question was spinning inside of him, making all his worst fears dance in his mind. He didn’t want to ask, but he knew he had to.

“What happened?” He breathed out. Quickly, Persephone shook her head, trying to dismiss the conversation.

“I’m not trying to pressure you, Kore, really…. You don’t have to tell me details… But I have this sinking feeling in my stomach that- that he hurt you.”

He had seen that look before, too many times to count. His mother would tell him to hide in a desperate frenzy to keep him safe, and she would let father have his way, no matter the cost.

Persephone looked away, leaving the question unanswered, telling Hades everything he needed to know.

“You told me that you wanted me to look out for you.” Hades said gently. “I meant it. I want to protect you.” He placed one hand over hers and squeezed as he begged. “Please let me protect you, Kore.”

She wanted to tell him. She both wanted to hide it and wanted to bring it to light. She knew that if she was going to face this, she needed him by her side. Swallowing hard she gave a curt nod.

“Did-Did he touch you?” He chocked out. Persephone shut her eyes tightly, nodding once more. Hades felt rage boiling in him, the inherent need to rip the purple asshole to shreds burning inside of him, threatening to swallow him hole.

His anger had to wait; she needed him.

“Oh, baby..” He swept her back into his arms, pressing her tightly against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

He said it over and over, an apology and a prayer, willing her to have some ounce of peace.  The way she held on to him, like he was her lifeline, clutching tighter like she was afraid he would let go made him want to turn the car around and drag the purple bastard to the underworld and feed him to Ceberus. He wasn’t sure how to comfort her, how to make this better, but he knew that right now she needed him, and punishment would have to wait.

When she finaly pulled away her face was puffy and tear stained. “C-can I stay?” She hiccupped, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, “With you?”

He had thought that Persephone was strong- and he was right- she was stronger than he could fathom. He had once foolishly said that the difference between she and Minthe was that Minthe needed him; he had been so wrong. Just because Persephone held her head high, was able to appear strong did not mean she wasn’t falling apart on the inside, that she wasn’t sad and alone.

Like him.

More and more, he kept realizing how alike they were. She was a ray of light, of hope in his life. Minthe had broken him down, words cutting deeper than the wounds from her hands. Persephone touched him tenderly, pushing aside whatever demons she battled to offer kindness.

A role he was used to playing.

What would he need in a time like this? What would hewant, but be too afraid to ask?

Her.

He would want her.

Was it crazy to think she might want him?

“Okay.” He conceded, placing one last kiss on her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

[koteosa]

If asra’s place under the docks from childhood is still there, maybe it would be nice to have a little fic of showing apprentice it because they want to see where Asra grew up?

I needed something very sweet to work on today (even though I got a little emo writing it despite that KHKHK sorry)

ao3 link

Being torn from the world from dreams so suddenly wasn’t what Kamui would call pleasant. One moment he’s relaxing on board a ship sailing glittering, multicolored waters with his two favorite people in the world, and next he’s groggy, he can barely see, his body feels immensely heavy and all he can properly register are the fingers poking him in the chest and shoulder.

“Kamui,” a soft voice to his right calls quietly. “Kamui, Kamui, Kamui…”

He swats at the hand like a fly. Not awake enough to register who was talking, even though there really only could be one candidate—Faust didn’t sound like that, and Julian was staying with his family for awhile. Of course, Julian also didn’t sound like this, but Kamui was just tired enough to mistake the two voices for each other.

“Oh my god, what?” he grumpily, and exhaustedly mumbles, trying to curl up under their comfy blankets; his body thanks him for the positioning and the slight stretch his limbs are provided. There’s no good reason to be up right now, so he corks his eyes shut again, trying not to lose the fragile connection he has to a deep sleep.

Soft lips start kissing him all over his cheek and neck. “Kamui, wake up,” Asra gently insists, a childish lilt to his tone. Kamui couldn’t possibly fathom what he was doing, it wasn’t anyone’s birthday or anniversary or anything like that, just a normal day in the middle of spring. Regardless, Asra keeps going, holding him from the side while continuing to pepper him with little kisses, sweetly repeating Kamui’s name and “I love you” until finally Kamui stirs, cracking open his eyes to stare up at the magician. It’s really hard to see, at first, struggling to focus on Asra’s warm grin through the blurry spots in his vision.

Glancing to the window to the left of the bed, Kamui can easily tell it’s currently the crack of dawn. The night sky was only barely being pushed away by the rising sun. Being woken up wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, no matter the time, but his schedule had been fairly regular ever since the two had started going to bed with him every night. But Asra knew that, so there must be a good reason why this was happening. The magician was spontaneous, so Kamui couldn’t really fault him for not giving any warning that this was going to happen.

“Asra, what…?”

He had trailed off tiredly anyway, but still Asra cuts him off with a kiss, something like excitement glimmering in his eyes. The irritation in Kamui’s body melts away instantaneously to be replaced with a tender warmth, and that pull of longing that always made him want to go seeking more. Damn him, he knew that, didn’t he?

“Kamui,” Asra says sweetly, always so fond of saying the names of those he loved, or so Kamui had noticed. “Come on, get up. I have something to show you.”

Letting out a sleepy groan and stretching his limbs, Kamui murmurs, “It better be really good.”

“You’ll like it. But we have to do it now, for the atmosphere.”

“For the…? For fuck’s sake, Asra. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Returning the comment with a smug grin, Asra hops off the bed with a little bounce, further coaxing Kamui from sleep. With more tired groans, sighs, and stretches, Kamui gets out of bed and throws on something easy and comfortable. Asra hovers by the doorway the entire time, seeming at once excited and jittery. Kamui wants to ask, but can’t find the right words so early in the morning. This was clearly some sort of surprise, and Asra was the most tight-lipped person in the world when he wanted to be.

With some white, calf-length boots, soft white pants and a loose red shirt with long, flowing sleeves and a robe-like collar tucked into the waistband, he quickly finger-combs his hair into some semblance of order before joining Asra by the door. The magician pushes off from where he was leaning against the doorframe, sets a hand on Kamui’s bicep, and exchanges a quick, but firm kiss with him before grabbing him by the hand and leading him downstairs. Luckily, there’s no haste to his step, so Kamui can keep up fairly easily. They slowly speed up over time, though, but only at such a rate that Kamui isn’t too exhausted to match him.

“Where are we going?” Kamui asks, peering around them at the city, bathed in in the dim light of the sun just barely peeking over the horizon. There were a few people out and about. They pass by some merchants setting up their market stalls, and Kamui wants to stop to buy something to eat somewhere, but Asra seems single-mindedly focused on their goal. Kamui doesn’t want to force him to stop.

Asra smiles warmly at him, excitement and anxiety rolling off of him in confusing waves. For a moment, Kamui wonders if he’s about to propose, but there’s no way he’d time it like this. Probably. “You’ll see,” Asra vaguely says, leaving Kamui to wonder some more. It takes a lot of mental gymnastics, and Asra reassuringly squeezing his hand, but he manages to get his mind off of it.

Eventually they reach the docks, where Kamui does his best not to look at the island out on the horizon, no matter how much his eyes slide over to it in a daze. The last time he’d been here wasn’t fun, and the rickety old boat was still on the docks exactly where they’d left it, despite being over a year since they’d used it. He couldn’t be sure why Asra was so excited to be here; but it suddenly made sense why he was so fretful and apprehensive, at the same time.

“Um,” Kamui mumbles, “What are we doing at the east docks?”

Leading them through the sand, Asra hesitates before speaking. “Well, you… remember what I told you, about how I used to sleep on the beach as a child?”

Kamui looks up at him, but he’s watching their feet instead. He remembers, of course, even more now that he remembered Muriel, too. It’s easy to put two and two together and figure out this must be the beach he was talking about. When he’d been told about that, he automatically imagined a bunch of orphan children, sleeping in sloppy piles all around the beach like a bunch of cats or dogs. Maybe with some ratty-looking fabrics for blankets. But he’d never seen such a thing on the beach in all his remembered life, and the orphans hadn’t exactly gone away, so it was silly of him to have pictured the place as some kind of orphanage.

No, they were spread out everywhere, sleeping in alleyways and under carts and in old, abandoned buildings, and it made his heart hurt thinking about it. That was no life for a child. And yet it was Asra’s life, and that made it so much more painful to think about. He couldn’t even imagine. The shop had been his home all this time, and even it felt cold and lonely sometimes. To be on the streets, instead, to sleep on the dirty, wet, hard ground, scorned by everyone around you like you were some kind of pest, fighting just to stay alive… how cruel could this city be?

Asra continues, “Yesterday, I came back here to… check something. The place I used to sleep is still here. No one’s disturbed it, even all these years later.”

Ruby eyes snap up to him with interest. Asra notices, aiming a knowing grin in his lover’s direction.

“Do you want to see it?” Asra asks.

“Yes,” comes Kamui’s immediate response, suddenly feeling a lot more alert, posture straightening. Asra’s smile grows, and his steps quicken, leading Kamui over to the docks. But rather than step atop the wood boards, they angle their bodies under it. The water here was too shallow for the docks to be very tall, requiring them to kneel and then to crawl.

It doesn’t take long to get to what they’re looking for. Despite being two rather short adults, they are, still, adults, and as such barely fit inside, but that doesn’t deter them. Far beneath the docks, shrouded in netting and various fabrics with shells and what looked like animal teeth hanging from it, is a little fort. Various pillows, fabrics, books and shiny bottles made up the tiny space. Sand lightly coated some of it, with certain bottles half-buried while the books looked a little waterlogged. Yet it wasn’t nearly as dirty as one might think considering how long it was left alone, and Kamui suspected Asra might have done a little more than just check on it the last he was here.

The space is only large enough to fit the upper halves of their torsos inside, and they have to lie side by side, squeezed close together. Kamui reaches out and smooths his hand across a red and gold pillow, swiping the sand off of it. It was easy to imagine Asra lying here as a child, with the pillows as his bedding and the stray fabrics, which looked to be scarves for the most part, as blankets. The colorful bottles must have been fascinating to look at for a child, in much the same way that Asra liked crystals and other such trinkets now.

Although they also must have been good for carrying water and magically purifying it for drinking, something he would have needed to do to stay alive, and that’s a much less fluffy thought to have.

Part of Kamui wished he could travel back in time to take care of Asra the way a parent would. The rest of him wanted to travel back in time to smother the former Count in his cradle, so maybe none of this would have ever happened to begin with.

Which was an interesting train of thought. If Asra still had his parents, would they have still met and fallen in love? Would Asra act differently? Would they have all accepted Kamui as a part of their family, just as easily as they did now?

Would Kamui have had a family that would do the same for him…?

No, probably not.

“It feels like you,” Kamui comments, watching a smile form on Asra’s face from out of the corner of his eye. The little fort was cozy, colorful, and a complete mess. Just like the magician himself.

Asra pulls one of the pillows closer to him, lying his head down on it despite the presence of sand on its surface. Kamui’s fingers twitch with the urge to clean it off and start grooming his partner, but he manages to resist. “There used to be more in here,” Asra explains. “But I took it with me when I moved into the hut with Muri. He’s used to sleeping on stone, but I could never get used to being without a bed, or pillows at the very least. I remember, it was such an argument getting him to accept a bed when I finally had the gold to buy one for him.”

The memory brings a small smile to his face, but there’s sadness in his eyes, too, and Kamui can’t get past that. It’s hard to see this as anything other than horribly tragic. He was talking about being a child, a teenager, not a grown adult who can work for a living, and buy his own food, and be allowed into businesses alone without someone asking him where his parents are. It was adventurous and romantic to think about living nomadically as an adult, but it was just sad thinking about it for a child, who had no other choice.

Laying his head on the pillows, too, Kamui stares down at where Asra’s fingers trace lazy patterns in the sand. “Um,” Kamui starts, taking a moment to find his voice, “What was… you don’t have to, but… Can I ask what it was like, on the first day?”

The two of them both know what he means, so he doesn’t need to elaborate any further. Asra’s soft eyes wander over the nostalgic sights around him, taking it all in, and growing distant in the process. His lips part, but it takes awhile before he says anything.

“Well…” Asra starts, pausing to collect himself as his voice came out a little thick. “I wasn’t thrown out of my house right away. It took awhile. My parents just didn’t come home one day, and I had no idea what was going on or why they weren’t coming back. But I tried to be on my best behavior, thinking they’d come back and be so proud of me for my independence.

Then the guards came knocking, and I wasn’t allowed to live there anymore.” He flushes, turning slightly to face the pillow. “I had to be removed kicking and screaming. I just didn’t get it, and kept trying to get back inside. I was scared, and kept thinking my parents were going to come back and wonder where I was. It was my home. I grew up there, I’d always been there. To lose it so suddenly… it was like I had lost a limb, and no one seemed to care. Everything felt wrong.”

Kamui reaches over, laying a hand on Asra’s back and rubbing gentle circles. The magician relaxes under his touch. Taking a moment to breathe, Asra eventually resumes his story.

“The first day, after all of that… once I figured out I couldn’t keep sneaking back in without getting caught, I tried going to places I remembered my parents taking me. There were a few people who recognized me, and tried walking me home, and I thought maybe they could tell the guards to let me back in. But it didn’t work. None of them offered to help me after that.

The palace guards wouldn’t even talk to me. I went to an inn, not really understanding the concept of money. I got kicked out for trying to sneak into a room. You think you’re really sneaky when you’re a child, but you’re not.

I tried begging, after that. It didn’t work either. Everyone was used to seeing orphan children and their patience for them had long since ran out. Stealing felt wrong at the time, even though going hungry after having my parents around to feed me all the time felt like the end of the world. I actually thought I was going to die, that night.

I slept behind a building, on top of this bag full of leaves or maybe old clothes, I don’t remember. It was the most comfortable thing I could find and it took a really long time to find it. And then, in the morning, I cried when I realized what happened wasn’t a dream.”

His eyes are starting to water, and so are Kamui’s, throat tight and chest aching. He reaches for Asra’s other side and pulls him close; the magician immediately turns to bury his face in Kamui’s shoulder, right arm shifting to grasp at the back of his shirt. Kamui runs his hands through Asra’s hair, combing gently through tangles.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Kamui whispers, wrapping his arms tighter the moment he hears a sharp, choked breath escape Asra.

“Kamui,” Asra starts, voice trembling. “I didn’t come here to cry.” With a soft, mirthless laugh, Kamui presses a kiss to the top of Asra’s head.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t help but think about how sad this all is. I know it can’t have all been bad, but it’s hard not to dwell on the terrible aspects of it. You were a child, you shouldn’t have been sleeping in garbage and getting turned away by the adults that were supposed to protect you. It’s horrible, it’s disgusting. I’m kind of angry, actually.”

Mostly sad and on the verge of tears, though. Which was probably why Asra was, too, if he wasn’t already crying. Kamui couldn’t help that he was so emotional; he only wished Asra didn’t have to feel it, too. The downside of sharing a heart, he supposes.

“I’ll stop,” Kamui hastily adds, but Asra shakes his head, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. There was moisture around Asra’s eyes, but he seemed to be handling himself well, otherwise. Kamui wondered how much of it was just a natural part of Asra’s personality, and how much of it was hiding his emotions out of necessity to his survival. It must have blended together eventually.

“No, don’t. I'm… it’s nice to hear someone say these kinds of things out loud,” Asra says, growing quieter the further he goes along. His eyes droop, tracing the line of Kamui’s collarbone. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. I can’t fault anyone, not really, although I do feel bitter about it sometimes.”

“I don’t blame you. I think I’d be a pretty bitter person if I had to go through all that.”

“You—” Asra starts, but quickly cuts himself off, almost literally biting his tongue in the process. A look of surprise passes over him before quickly being swept away, eyes darting nervously around the area at random until settling on glass bottle in the corner. “Uh, hey. Look at this,” he says, in a obvious bid to avoid whatever he’d been about to say—Kamui decides to let it slide—and raises up to reach for the item in question.

They spend awhile perusing Asra’s wares, so to speak, and Kamui listens intently as Asra regales him with tales of his past. They never go into too much detail, but Kamui loves listening to him speak anyway. Although, it doesn’t take very long before he starts to struggle, vocal chords clearly overworked as he can’t carry on a sentence without feeling the need to cough.

That’s when they take the time to just relax instead, lying in each other’s arms, heads on the decades old pillows, and staring around them at all the patterns and colors. The sun was much higher in the sky now, and the atmosphere was perfect as a result of it shining in through the tent, just like Asra had said. Kamui wonders if this is the kind of thing Asra saw every morning, as a child. It was nice. It was also making Kamui want a canopy for their bedroom. That might be something he could run by his partners later on.

Asra clears his throat, a signal that he was about to say something more. Kamui looks up towards him, catching him staring down at the pillows between them. “Um… do you want to know, the thing that I struggled with the most, back then?” Asra asks.

It was obvious by the look in his eyes that whatever he was about to say was a bit of a downer, but Kamui nods anyway. Very rarely did Asra open up this much about the way he felt. It was more frequent lately, and getting better. A lot of that had to do with Kamui’s encouragements, though, so he had to keep that up now, giving Asra his full attention.

“It wasn't… the going hungry, or staying warm in the winter,” Asra continues. “You get used to those things. But when I was scared and wondered if I’d live to see tomorrow, I’d remember the way my parents used to hold me, and it… really hurt. It felt like everything would be okay if I could just have them there to hold me through it, but I knew that was never going to happen. You try not to think about those sorts of things but it always slips through the cracks eventually.”

He turns, catching Kamui’s eye. He reaches out, caressing the side of Kamui’s face. “Whenever I started to cry, one of my parents was right there to pick me up, or to hug me. There was no one to do that for me anymore, so I just had to stop crying. But now I have you, and you cry enough for both of us.”

The teasing broke the tension, and Kamui huffs before reaching out and pinching Asra’s nose. Playfully squirming to try and get away, Asra laughs, while Kamui says, “Ohhh, you think you’re really cute and funny, don’t you, Asra Alnazar?”

After relinquishing his nose, Asra grins salaciously and says, “I think you’re really cute and funny…” Kamui retaliates by squishing Asra’s cheeks in both hands, as the magician giggles.

“Shut up! You’re cute!”

Still laughing, Asra quickly dives in, stealing a kiss. “You are,” he insists with a smug grin, and dips back in for another, longer kiss before Kamui can say anything. In return, Kamui’s arms wrap around him, pulling him closer, until eventually he raises up on one knee to lean over Kamui, grinning as they continue to kiss. They part for breath, foreheads touching. And then, slowly, Asra begins to laugh.

“What?” Kamui asks, a smile forming as Asra’s laughter begins to grow contagious.

“I was just thinking,” Asra begins, “If my child self walked in on this, he’d be so disgusted.”

At his description, Kamui chuckles, too, saying, “What, why?”

“Oh, you know.” Asra wiggles his fingers. “Cooties.”

Rolling his eyes, Kamui scoffs. “Ohhh, of course. How could I forget such a dangerous and very real disease? Well, it’s too bad. We’ve been giving it to each other for years now, so we’re screwed. Not even Julian can fix us now.”

“Mmm, Ilya’s got it too, anyway.”

They continue to kiss a while longer, before Asra settles his head on Kamui’s chest. The shirt he’d worn was hanging off the sides of his shoulders by design, making most of his upper torso visible. A lot of his outfits were like this, now, thriving on the feeling of skin-on-skin contact with his partners, either in situations just like this one, or as a result of the fact that neither of them ever buttoned up their shirts. Intimate hugs were greatly improved by a lack of clothing, in his professional opinion.

As always, Asra laid with his ear over Kamui’s heart, listening to its slow and gentle beating. There was a smile on his face, and he was looking outwards, towards the waves lapping at the shore nearby. Luckily their feet were far enough away that they could avoid getting wet. One of few perks to being so short, he supposes.

“Sometimes,” Asra starts, and Kamui’s gaze shifts to stare down at him, “I wonder what it would be like if we’d met as children. Maybe it’s better that we didn’t, though. Vesuvia had its hands full already with one troublemaking, magic toddler. But, still, I… you’re only two years older than me. Muri never really liked hugging, but…”

“Asra, you were the cutest child I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t remember what I was like at that age, but I’m pretty confident I would have loved you. You’d need some really heavy duty tools to separate us, I think.”

An affectionate smile blooms on Asra’s face, and he burrows in closer, nuzzling against Kamui’s smooth chest. “I would have loved that,” he says, kissing the space between Kamui’s pectorals. His lips trail up towards a pale neck and jaw before finding soft, rose tinted lips. One of his hands slips into Kamui’s, fingers tangling. Their eyes catch, and Asra smiles sweetly, leaning his forehead against Kamui’s. “I love you, Kamui.”

Warmth spreads through Kamui’s chest as he leans in for another kiss, tasting a trace of something salty on Asra’s lips. “I love you, too,” he says.

Eventually, their stomaches start to rumble, and they’re forced to climb back out of the little makeshift bedroom, shaking sand out of their clothes. Their hands find each other like they’re magnetized, and they begin heading towards home, passing through the market to pick up some stuff for breakfast, first. Maybe Julian would be able to join them, Kamui muses.

As they start nearing the shop, Kamui’s mind begins to drift, and he can’t help but want to vocalize his thoughts.

“Hey, Asra,” he says, the shop coming into view. He receives a soft hum of acknowledgement in response, with Asra sparing him a curious glance before returning to watching where he was walking. Hesitating, unsure on how to phrase what he wanted to say, exactly, it isn’t until Asra is reaching to unlock the front door that Kamui blurts out, “What if we had a child together?”

If their groceries hadn’t been packed away safely in Asra’s bag, then they might have all spilled out on the street beneath them. Wide, violet eyes turn to him in shock, a thick blush coating Asra’s face as his mouth opens and closes uselessly. There’s panic in his eyes. All he ends up actually saying, though, is a very breathless, “…What?”

Nervous, Kamui starts playing with a strand of his own hair, trying and failing to look casual. “You know, I just… Don’t you ever want to… D-Don’t you ever think about… I mean,” Kamui takes a deep breath before resuming his word vomit. “I don’t remember my childhood, so I technically didn’t actually have one. And you lost your parents so young, and had to grow up so fast. Don’t you think it would be wonderful to be able to give someone something the two of us never had? A loving, safe, fun childhood surrounded by family and friends, never wanting for anything?”

Dumbfounded, Asra continues to stare at him, lips parted, looking uncertain. Anxiety claws at away at Kamui’s insides and he opens his mouth to take it all back, when Asra says, “I… I didn’t even know you liked children. You’ve never said anything like this before, it really caught me off guard.”

“Do you… Do you…?”

“I’ve never thought about it,” he says, taking a step closer and wrapping an arm around Kamui’s waist. “I didn’t think I’d ever be having this conversation. To be honest, I thought I’d grow into a wizened old adventurer who retires to some alchemical tower and dies alone in his bed. Romance and children weren’t part of it. No one… no one else was ever really a part of it. I wasn’t so sure I’d even have Muriel around forever.”

“You’ll have me forever,” Kamui promises. “Even if I have to come kicking and screaming out of the afterlife to get to you. Or into the afterlife. Uh, please don’t die, though. I don’t have half a heart to give and I’d rather not resort to murder.” But I would, if I had to.

Asra’s lips curl into a playful grin. “For you? I’ll live forever.” Returning the smile, Kamui leans forward, their lips meeting. Pale hands rest on Asra’s chest, one feeling the thrum of his heart beating beneath his palm. Kamui’s question had really surprised him, it seemed, as his heart was only just beginning to calm down.

Speaking of, he was still quite eager for a response. But to ask again… maybe this was another thing Asra was avoiding, something he just wasn’t ready for. That was fine.

Only, Kamui couldn’t stop thinking about it now that he’d started; there was a space upstairs where they could build a room for a child to stay in. They’d all cook for them, and Asra could knit them something to wear, some blankets for the winter, things like that. Julian would know what to do if they ever got sick. And there was all the decorating, and the outfits. They would learn magic from Kamui and Asra, and sit in Julian’s lap while he taught them to read. They had so many relatives to come visit. And maybe Portia and Nadia would have a child, too, and they could be friends.

It was so exciting to think about. What would they be like? Like him, like Asra? What sort of magic would they specialize in, what familiar would they have, what would they name it? What kind of tea would they like? They’d probably have such beautiful, fluffy white hair, and Kamui could style it and decorate it and then teach them to style and decorate their own hair, too.

A soft mouth presses over his, and Asra nuzzles into his cheek, speaking softly into his ear. “I think it’s a good idea. Raising a child together,” he says. “But I’m not ready for that right now.”

Nodding slowly, Kamui tries his best to hide his excitement as he says, “You’re right. I just turned thirty, but I don’t exactly have all thirty years experience under my belt. I’m probably not ready yet, either.”

The shape of Asra’s smile can be felt against his jaw. The hand at Kamui’s back raises into his hair, fingers tangling in ivory curls. “I can tell you’re excited,” Asra chuckles. “Maybe… while we wait, we can start preparing. For starters, you could think of a name for us to use.”

“Aya,” Kamui blurts out. Surprised, Asra pulls back enough to look him in the eye, and Kamui’s face burns. He quickly averts his gaze, eyes darting around nervously, yet there was no one around to see this. “I, uh. Not that I. I haven’t, uh, I haven’t thought about this extensively for months, or anything. That was just. I.”

The sound of Asra’s laughter by his ear sends a shiver down his spine, and draws his attention back to the magician slowly laying his head on a pale shoulder. Lilac eyes stare up at him fondly, lips curled into a sly grin. “I love you, Kamui,” Asra croons, surprising him with the unexpectedly sweet response. He can feel his face burn even brighter, heart pounding. Asra brings their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of Kamui’s hand. Long ivory lashes flutter up at him. “Let’s go inside. You can tell me all about this name you thought of just now and haven’t been planning for months while we make breakfast.”

Kamui ducks his head in embarrassment. “Okay,” he mumbles. Asra kisses his jaw, chuckling low to himself as he heads back for the door, lightly tugging Kamui along.

[sabraeal]

In Plain Sight

Obiyuki AU Bingo Witness Protection AU

The leader of her orientation was an older man, thin but not gaunt, dark hair peppered with gray. He spoke with the sort of firm, no-nonsense tone of her favorite professors: soft-spoken, but not timid; a man who did not have to shout to have his voice heard. His boxy suit hung off his shoulders like a coat hanger, but still he had presence, still commanded the attention of a half dozen people squeezed into a letter-box sized room.

Shirayuki had liked him, as much as she could like a man she’d knew for twelve days, and who had told her within the first hour of their acquaintance that her life, as she knew it, was over. Honestly, she’d been tempted to ask him for lecture tips; her last one had been two steps away from disaster.

The feeling, it seemed, was mutual. The last day of orientation, he called her up to his desk, leveled her with a grim gaze, and said, “Shirayuki.”

A little thrill went through her, like when her elementary school teachers had hung her work up on the wall.

“This is the last time you’ll hear your real name,” he told her. “Don’t trust anyone.”

Don’t trust anyone. An easy thing for someone to say when he could just pick up his laptop and go home to the cozy lake house on his desktop. A little harder here, in the real world, when she’s standing in the middle of the baggage carousel, trying to remember what her new suitcase even looks like.

They hadn’t even allowed her to keep her own; a nice set of travel bags with a floral motif, bought as a graduation gift by her grandparents. The last thing they’d been able to give her, aside from a mound of debt. She’d written her own will right afterwards, even though there was no one to leave anything to.

Or so she’d thought, before a US Marshal showed up at her door. Not that she’d be giving her dad anything besides a whole piece of her mind.

A cheap red suitcase barrels off the conveyor, slamming into one of the metal guards, and Shirayuki knows, with the deep-seeded resignation this whole process has so gently encouraged to bloom, that it must be hers. She reaches out, flipping the case onto it’s back, and there it is, her new initials: CR.

She sighs, lugging it off the belt. Or, at least, she would have, if she was four inches taller and had any upper body definition to speak of. Instead, she stumbles, shocked by its weight -- what did those Marshals even put in here? -- and nearly gets dragged down the belt, but --

But a hand closes around hers, deep bronze against her snowy white, and tugs. The suitcase comes off with hardly a protest, and the momentum of it swings her around, right into a solid wall of muscle wrapped in worn cotton.

“Oh,” she hiccups, staggering back a step. Her savior is -- is big. Or, well, tall, more accurately, having the six inches she so desperately needed to win her baggage struggle and more than enough bicep to spare. “T-thank you.”

Shirayuki can perceive attractiveness; it’s a skill she’s cultivated over many years, trying to feign more than a passing interest in guys her friends had swooned over. Celebrities are easier; they are airbrushed to be perfect, an easy thing to agree on, and if she watches them in enough movies, she can grow fond enough to feel that burgeoning attraction, somewhere far off and safe. But in real life, with real people, it takes a lot more than a glance in the hallway to get her rolling in that direction, and never very far.

But now she’s standing next to -- to him, and she can only assume that the people she’s known just exist somewhere at the middle of the attractive scale. Which is a logarithmic one, if this man is any indication.

It’s -- intimidating, being so close. He’s probably used to a -- a reaction by now, and all she can do is stare fretfully and know this is not the right answer.

There’s something hard in his gaze, a glint that makes his eyes shine like coins in the airport’s harsh light, and don’t trust anyone plays on endless repeat in her head, right along with anti-kidnapping assembly she had in second grade, showing her how to kick out a tail-light and wave for help --

And as quick as she’s seen it, it’s gone, glinting gold melting into amber, and the tense line of his body loosens to -- to something else, to the casual, loose-limbed confidence the jocks on campus always seemed to assume after a semester or two off the bench. His other hand clutches a sign, the name Roos scrawled out in spidery letters.

Roos. That’s her. Or it is now, at least. This man must be her escort, though he doesn’t look like any Marshal she’s ever seen.

He’s not in a suit for one, nor does he look like he’s acquainted with anything more formal than a Men’s Warehouse for weddings, wakes, and funerals. Instead a faded white tee clings to him, dark denim jeans fitted tight to his thighs and -- and thigh-adjacent assets, which feels very, ah, un-governmental this close. Every agent she’s met thus far has been freshly shaven, hair cropped short and close to the scalp, looking every inch like men who spent formative years in bootcamp. This man’s hair is a wild mass of bristle, like he just rolled out of bed and didn’t have time to brush it. Or shave for that matter, if the light five o’clock shadow is any indication.

“Hey, babe,” he says, just a little louder than is natural, slinging an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. Close enough to find out that he smells nice, like Old Spice and fabric softener. “I thought they musta lost you over Kentucky. That took nothing short of forever.”

“The flight got delayed,” she murmurs into his chest, arms stiff against his sternum. Her mind races to catch up, to try to parse this all out, but it keeps tripping over babe. No one -- she’s not -- babe? “We sat on the runway a long time, and they had that no electronics thing up --?”

“It’s all right,” he soothes, hand rubbing down her spine in a way that should feel far more invasive than it actually does. “What matters is that you’re home now.”

You’re home now. For a moment, she’s not here, not in an airport she’s never seen with people she doesn’t know, but standing in a crooked foyer, wrinkled arms wrapping her up as she tries not to trip over her bags. The scent of wood shavings and must is so strong in her nose it stings, and her breath catches, making her board-stiff in his arms.

Oh gosh, this would -- this would be a terrible time to just start bawling her eyes out. 

“Hey, hey! It’s okay.” He pulls back, and when their eyes meet, his concern isn’t feigned. She might have though him harsh when she first saw him, but it’s hard to think that when his brows are drawn tight over the bridge of his nose, when his hand comes up to brush away the straggling strands of her hair that always hover at her hairline --

When he leans in, eyes at half-mast, and she -- she just tips her head back to meet him.

Their lips just miss -- his catch her just below her nose and hers just above his chin, and he inhales quick against her, surprised, and -- and, oh, he had probably not meant this, just a kiss on the forehead like an actual, concerned boyfriend would have done, and god, she is so dumb --

She jerks back, flustered, cheeks burning, but --

But she doesn’t get far.

His hand slips back, cupping the curve of her head, and for a moment she’s distracted, unable to shake the odd sensation of her hair being too short as his fingers run through it. With a move so subtle it’d seem natural if it wasn’t her head he was moving, he angles her slightly, then drags his nose over her cheek, and --

Oh.

Shirayuki has been kissed before; more often than she’d honestly care to recount. For the number of times she’s been cornered -- sometimes with a shy smile and ducked chin, sometimes with a smug smirk and unearned confidence -- she half expects she’s going around with kiss me written on her forehead. They haven’t all been bad -- not everyone’s opening maneuver is to come at her face, mouth open, like they want to eat her -- but it’s not an experience she’s sought out, not something she’s felt was necessary to put herself through, not when her feelings have been so clear to her without.

But she might have had another opinion if everyone kissed like this.

He holds her, firm enough make her confident that this is all purposeful, that she isn’t making another mistake about his intentions, but gentle enough that she knows she could pull away, put space between them. Strangely, she doesn’t feel the urge.

Instead, she leans into it, hands pressed against the worn cotton over his chest, and -- and they must be really selling this cover. It’s not just a quick press of lips, not like some of the older couples she’d seen at the baggage claim, but their mouths meet and part, not making out but -- passionate. The sort of kiss couple give when they’ve been separated for a long time.

Which -- well, if anyone of Umihebi’s goons are watching, that’s exactly what they’ll see. Just another young couple who have clearly not been in the same zip code enough.

Something quivers in her belly, makes her skin tingle where he touches, and -- oh, that’s...that’s not as hard a stretch to pretend with him than she thought it would be.

He pulls away, and for a stupid moment, her mouth chases his. He laughs, a low rumble she feels under her hands, and her eyes flutter open, meeting the mirrored lenses of his Aviators.

“I’ve missed you too,” he rasps wryly, but it’s far too quiet for any casual observer to hear.

He steps away, hefting up her bag, and grins. “C’mon.” His other arm wraps around her shoulders, steering her away from the carousel. “Let’s get you home.”

She nods, cleaving close to him, trying not to be so -- so wide-eyed, not when he’s clearly trying to seem like her boyfriend. If she’s supposed to be the kind of girl that kisses a man like that in the middle of the airport, she shouldn’t stare too.

Though maybe girls do, when guys look like him. She’s sort of new to this whole concept.

He guides her out, right into the parking garage’s artificial night, leading her to a Jeep nestled in the corner of the structure. He tosses her bag in the back, swinging in under the bars to slide into the driver’s seat, and she finally manages, “I take it you’re my, um, handler.”

His eyebrows arch over the lenses as she climbs in, using the door, and he says with a grin bordering on dangerous, “That’s really something you should have checked before you got into my car.”

Oh. Oh.

Trust no one. Agent Anda will be so disappointed.

“Relax,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Check the glove compartment.”

She does, pulling the handle down until a leather wallet falls into her lap, a much more official looking photo staring up at her. Obi Jiang.

“Oh.” The breathe whooshes out of her in relief. “Good.”

“Yeah, good. Also, for the record,” Obi says, throwing the car into gear and pulling out with a screech. “I cannot believe they let you keep the hair.”

[newagexheroes]

“I want to bury my face between your thighs.”

With a phone captured between her shoulder and her ear, Pepper was typing an email, brow furrowed as she focused. “Yes, yes. I can have someone out there by tomorrow evening. We’ll see to it that it’s all handled.” She spoke into the phone, someone airing grievances as they always are. There are hardly ever any real issues, but people expect the best of the best when it comes to Stark tech. And as if on cue, the name sake of the company himself slips through Pepper’s office door. While both hands full at the moment, Pepper gives her a husband a smile and a nod -- hoping that’ll do for now until she have a spare moment so speak to him. However, this is Tony Stark after all, she isn’t sure how long he’ll be happy with such an informal greeting. Though the man seems to settle, sitting across from her in the chairs positioned on the other side of her desk.

Pepper doesn’t know what he’s up to, idly wondering if he’s gotten himself into some trouble and is trying to play good for her. She hardly has time to think about that right now as the person on the phone continues to drone on. “Yes, I understand that this is an issue. I would not be talking to you directly if it wasn’t. I’m working on getting someone out there as soon as possible to assess everything then we can talk about getting replacements. As of now I can’t promise to do anything.” The man on the phone is truly obnoxious, entitled and Pepper is just waiting -- no counting on Tony interrupting this phone call. Though as she glances up from her computer screen, the man looks far too smug. So Pepper decides to mouth the words “do you need something?” which Tony just shakes his head at her. He is up to something and Pepper just knows it. Though she really can’t take anytime at this current moment to try and figure out what he’s up to.

So she turns her attention back to work, barely listening to the man on the other end of line and finishing up this email. However once her attention was fully away from her husband that’s when he decided to rise from his chair, her first mistake was thinking that he was leaving -- maybe going to find someone else who could give him the attention he wanted until she was done. Instead though, Tony rounds the corner of Pepper’s desk. The woman drafts her email as she swivels in the chair towards Tony. “Yes, I do understand, sir. -- We are working on figuring out if anyone else has experienced these problems.” And as Pepper speaks Tony settles down in his knees and despite herself Pepper’s stomach gives an excited swoop. Covering the receiver with her hand so that the man on the phone doesn’t hear Pepper speaks sharply towards the man. “Tony, don’t.” 

“I want to bury my face between your thighs.” Her husband tells her in return, the gesture not that innocent but not was dirty as it could be -- though knowing Tony she knows where this is headed. As the man settles closer to her, Pepper places her foot on his shoulder, keeping him at bay as she continues to try and focus on the complaints that are filtering into her ear. Her husband takes this chance to carefully slide Pepper’s heel off and press kisses up her leg. She can feel the goosebumps rising on her skin, despite trying to give him a look, unsurprisingly her look is ignored in favor of pushing Pepper’s legs apart. She can feel that giddy feeling filling her stomach again, the one that makes her want to squirm. Now could Pepper be serious in pushing Tony away? Yes, but a better question is does she want to? No, of course not. This sort of thing actually really excites Pepper, and she knows her husband knows this fact. As he presses in closer, the rough hair on Tony’s jaw makes her squirm as it brushes along her sensitive upper thighs. God, Pepper is glad she wore a skirt today. 

“Of course, we take all matters like this very seriously.” A true miracle that her voice comes out even, as Tony’s expert fingers push her panties aside. Her lip catches between her teeth to keep from making any sound as Tony’s warm mouth pressed against her. The next few minutes were a real struggle, Pepper’s head pressed back against her chair as she held onto Tony’s hair tightly with her free hand. She had absolutely no idea what the man on the other end of the line was saying and frankly, she hardly cared. As she was nearing her end, Pepper knew it was going to be harder for her to be quiet -- but she also knew this conversation was far from over. “Please excuse me, ---- but -- I’ve got to put you on hold  -- for a moment.” She didn’t wait to hear the man’s answer before she was scrambling to put him on hold. “Shit --” she’s finally able to breath out as both of her hand’s bury into her husband’s short hair, head falling back against the chair once more. It doesn’t take too much before Pepper is tipping over the edge a soft gasp of Tony’s name given before the only noise in the room is Pepper catching her breath. 

After a moment, Pepper is able to collect herself. Tony’s chin settled on her knee as he observes her. “I’m going to fire you one of these days.” She scolds him playfully. But with Pepper it’s always back to business, so while she lets Tony stay where he is, Pepper reaches over to answer the phone once more. “My apologies, sir. Now, where were we?”

[wolfhuntsmoon]

New Stucky fic! Fic under the read more.

Title: Tell Me Like It Is Link: On AO3 Square Filled: N5 - Voice Kink - 1st square!! :) Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Romance Hand Jobs Voice Kink Light Dom/sub Enthusiastic Consent Snark i love you but damn you're a bastard Humor Grumpy Bucky Barnes

Summary:

Turns out, romancing Captain America is pretty hard.

Word Count: 1882

Created for: @mcukinkbingo - thanks so much for all your hard work guys, this is so much fun!

Bucky glances around the room one last time. It’s as perfect as he can make it: curtains pulled, candles glowing, table laid with their best crockery and crisp, starched linen. All he can do is wait, but the heavy feeling in his gut has him prowl back and forth between the table and kitchen island, agonising over whether to alter the place settings, or to adjust the vase of roses he’s bought, or whether he should just sweep everything away into the bottom of their closet and pretend he hasn’t spent the past several hours panicking over tonight’s surprise.

The scrape of the key in the lock jolts him out of his panicked musings, and he lunges for the door. A sharp twist of the knob allows him to yank it open first, and Bucky gasps out a breathless “Hi!”

Steve’s face morphs from surprise to pleased amusement, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey Buck.” He steps in, crowding Bucky back against the wall, running his nose along the side of his neck. “You smell good. What’s the occasion?”

Buck flushes violently. He hadn’t thought Steve would pick up on the aftershave he’d dabbed on earlier, an afterthought at time. But now he can smell it too; clean and sharp with traces of amber darkening the scent. It smells like a guy who wants to impress, wants to luck out and end up in bed with his fella. Steve mouths over his throat, cutting off all Bucky’s higher brain functions as he does so, the bastard.

“Date night!” He grits out, voice closer to a squeak than he’d ever admit out loud. Goddamn Steve with his stupid face and warm chest, hands that feel as if they could cocoon Bucky. They make him want to forget all about the dinner in the oven.

“Date night?” Steve pulls back, confusion creasing his brow. “Since when do we have date night?” He raises a questioning eyebrow.

Bucky grins. “Can’t handle a little romance Rogers?”

“It’s been so long since I experienced any I’d forgotten you knew the meaning of the word.” Steve says, dry as the Sahara desert.

Bucky gasps, clutching at imaginary pearls and raising his other hand to his forehead as if he’s about to faint. “Steven Grant, are you accusing me of failing to woo you?”

Steve still looks stern as he speaks, but laughter draws out the broader vowels of his speech. “Is it an accusation if it’s already acknowledged to be true? Just yesterday you told me to knock off that, ‘lovey-dovey shit’!”

Bucky sniffs, spreading his arms wide, and looking through his lashes at Steve. He pouts a little, for maximum effect. “Because you were doing it wrong. Thought I’d give you a lesson.” He slides the tip of his tongue to the top of his lip, tracking the growing darkness in Steve’s eyes as they trace the route it takes.

Steve’s voice drops a whole octave when he next speaks, a bass rumble in Bucky’s ear as he leans forward to capture his mouth. “I’m listening, Buck.”

That rat bastard. Bucky can feel his well laid plans unravelling already, the liquid tones of Steve’s voice weakening Bucky’s knees. The kiss starts light, tongues tracing the bow of his lips, Steve’s nose nudging his, the hot press of his palms against Bucky’s back a brand sparking a fire in his gut. Steve deepens the kiss, and it’s all Bucky can do to stay upright. He moans, ragged. Heaving a breath in, he attacks Steve’s mouth, shoving forward to wind his arms around Steve’s neck, curling his fingers in the blond’s hair. All too soon he has to pull back and drag in badly needed air, clutching at Steve’s shoulders.

Steve’s by no means unaffected by all this, but the sly son of a bitch knows he’s got the upper hand in this game they’re playing, and knows how to keep it too. Which he proves when he drops his head to murmur against the shell of Bucky’s ear. “You look so good baby doll, in that sweater. All soft and homey. Like a little pet, waiting for me, hoping I’ll pay you some attention when I get back.” Steve’s breath is hot and damp on his skin, tickling the fine hairs there in the most maddening of ways which shouldn’t turn him on. But does anyway. Because it’s Steve.

Bucky isn’t interested in pretending to be a dog, or cat, or rabbit, or any of the other myriad animals he knows people on the internet include in their sex games. He really doesn’t give a shit.

Except when Steve’s voice, dark and sinful, breathes thoughts like smoke through him, wrapping around his mind, enveloping everything in a hazy cloud, obscuring everything Bucky thought he knew about his preferences. He whines, low in his throat, and sucks a mark on Steve’s exposed collarbone in revenge. It won’t last more than a few hours but it’s the best he can do under the circumstances, the circumstances being one Captain Smug Bastard steamrolling over every well laid plan Bucky’d concocted for tonight with the raw power of his lips and tongue and teeth.

“What’s that baby?” Steve’s voice grows rougher, a rumble rolling out the ends of his words so they slur together, and Bucky is going to have a heart attack if this doesn’t stop soon. He realises that he’s hard, and pressing against Steve, hips shifting in small, jerky motions, seeking relief.

“I-” He begins, gives up. Bites Steve’s shoulder again resentfully. No-one can shut Bucky Barnes up except this punk, and boy does the big lunk revel in it. Steve chuckles, and the viciousness of it has Bucky rolling his hips harder. “You!”

Steve grins against his skin, hands running down his back to fondle Bucky’s ass and tug him further into the cradle of Steve’s hips.

“Shh, I know baby, it’s okay.” Steve drops his tone to a velvet whisper, the rasp of the sibilants sending a shudder up Bucky’s spine and further removing his legs from his conscious control. “Let go and let me make you feel good. Romance, right?”

The brief flare of outrage Bucky feels deep, deep in his soul at this palooka’s commandeering of his carefully laid plans is eclipsed by the bass gravel now emanating from Steve’s chest. It’s like drowning in syrup, so sweet and sticky that Bucky can’t move but doesn’t want to anyway, content to stay and suffocate so long as he gets more. He chokes out Steve’s name, and some wretched cry that’s not even half a word because Steve shushes him again before he’s done. The soft susurrations tremor against his lips as Steve closes in for another kiss, gentler this time but no less devastating.

“You’re so good for me Buck, so pretty and thoughtful.” Steve breathes as he draws back, letting Bucky grind against him, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the electric contact between their groins.

“My perfect boy.” Bucky closes his eyes, Steve’s speech winding down his spine and twisting in his gut, uncompromising steel behind the honeyed waterfall of sound. He twitches his hips faster, chasing the gathering heat in his belly. “So beautiful, when you can’t hold it together anymore.” A hand unzips his jeans and tugs Bucky’s cock out into the cooler air, the shock of the temperature change making him whimper.

“That’s it, there we are, good boy-” Bucky cries out at the twin sensations of Steve’s hand around both their cocks - when had the sneaky son of a bitch managed that? - and the raw desire he can almost taste in Steve’s tone.

“Feels good, doesn’t it Buck? God, you’re so gorgeous for me like this, so good, letting me do what I want…” The careful control Steve maintains of his accent slips now, letting the Brooklyn tough peek through, and Bucky can’t get enough of it, clawing at Steve’s back as he continues stroking them both, heavy and insistent. “I swear on all the saints, Buck, you could turn the Devil himself, the way you look.” His voice is more strained now, new notes of urgency bleeding through as they writhe against each other, but every syllable winds Bucky higher. He’s beyond words now, keening high and thready in the back of his throat, bared for Steve to pepper kisses on between the streams of praise falling from his lips.

“Never want anyone to see this, never want anyone to know you’re so sweet for me, that you’re mine, my good boy, my perfect boy...” The cascade of words sweeps Bucky away, has him crashing over the edge with Steve in a blinding fit of pure pleasure, unspooling the coiled tension in his stomach that’s been lurking there since he started getting ready.

They pant together, inches away from the front door still. Steve kisses the damp patches on Bucky’s temples, grabs a tissue from the dresser and wipes them both down. Bucky groans, oversensitive and still turned on, wanting to flinch away but also pounce on Steve and tumble him to the floor for round two immediately. Only the thumb drawing featherlight circles on his cheek distracts him enough that Steve’s done, tucking him back into his jeans, expression proud and pleased and possessive all at once. It makes Bucky feel like a whole mine of diamonds, hidden and precious. No-one gets to see Steve like this except him. No-one gets to have this part of Steve, the part that looks at him like a wolf looks at a deer, starving and wanting.

Bucky draws a deep, shuddering breath; wills his legs to support his weight again. The chime of the oven timer interrupts his internal pep talk, and he wobbles from the wall to extract the casserole from the main shelf.

Steve stalks him, hunter after prey. “Smells good,” he offers.

The echo of earlier sends heat to Bucky’s cheeks. “It’s as close to your ma’s recipe as I could get,” he mutters.

Steve’s inhale is audible behind him. Hands snake around his waist and a ridiculously square jaw comes to rest on his metal shoulder. “Thank you baby,” he says, slow and serious, “you’re so good to me. So thoughtful.”

Bucky sighs, lets himself be turned to face Steve, accepts the sweet kiss the blond presses to his lips. “My good boy.” The weariness and care Steve tries to hide is in full view now, weighing down his words, but the warmth of his delivery has happiness fizzing in Bucky’s chest. Steve’s let go for once and for all now, no hiding, just as Bucky wanted.

“Come on Stevie. Pull up a chair and take a load off.” Bucky says, deftly serving them both the stew in big bowls, thick slices of wholemeal loaf perched on the side. It only take a moment for them to be seated, the pristine white of the tablecloth a perfect backdrop for the vibrant colour of the meal. Steve hums in delight with the first mouthful, and Bucky feels utter contentment then, sinking deep into the marrow of his bones.

Steven. G. Rogers might be a sly, scheming, silver tongued bastard, but he’s Bucky’s bastard.

And Bucky wouldn’t change a single damn thing about him.

[caeliri]

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

There's a grief that can't be spoken, There's a pain goes on and on.

Winter did not kiss; it bit with angry, icy teeth.

Winter ravaged Quel’thalas, consumed the countryside with voracious hunger, stripped the trees of their fire-wrought canopies, and browned and buried the verdant fields in heavyset slopes of snow. Quel’thalas was not equipped for vicious frost or the screaming gales of arctic wind; there were seldom few doors in Silvermoon that could be closed against the cold, and great spans of gilded lattice work that had served well enough for walls while their climes were temperate were worthless now. Snow and sleet shot through the arabesques and archways, leaving the inside of homes as exposed as the city streets.

No where was safe from the cold.

Gossamer cloths were exchanged for once decorative fur rugs, blocking off doorways and windows, sectioning off singular chambers of once open air businesses and homes as the sole reprieve from the wailing winds.

Silvermoon City Inn was packed, all it’s patrons crowded on the bottom floor, where the wind had been successfully blocked off at either entrance. Fires burned in every brazier, bathing the bar in an orange glow that betrayed reality; there was still an ever present chill wafting down from the upper floors, which had been entirely abandoned. The room was packed with rum-blurred figures, little more than smudges of color that Caeliri could not fully fathom.

Exactly as she wanted it.

Caeliri was three deep in a tankard of rum, something cheap that tasted of clove and seared the inside of her nostrils with every sip - or had. Her ability to taste the swill had been burned away, along with any ounce of caring. She was seeking the numb oblivion of intoxication, scrambling behind it to shield herself from the slough of sorrow that crept ever closer.

They were dead.

Lirelle.

Sederis.

They were

    g            o                     n                             e.

The Archon’s words had sent her to her knees.

Her heart had been clenched for the headsman’s blow, and these loses had blindsided her.

H O W ?

How could they fall? For all of Sederis’ devotion to death, he was battle-hardened and resilient, always prepared. And Lirelle, Light above, she burned with the intensity of the Sun itself, with ten-fold the determination of any one Caeliri had ever met.

How could they be gone?

There were presents sitting in her tent for them, wrapped and ready - as they had been for months - for delivery.

An armored belt for Lirelle, with leather loops for hitching blades and pouches for plants or bugs or whatever else she might find on her journeys and desire to keep, and a handful of crude, nude sketches of the Ranger-Captain in lieu of the promised painting he’d never delivered on.  

An overflowing bag of dried meats for Sederis from every corner of Azeroth, from every kind of creature, something practical and delectable all at once. She’d never really known what to get him for Winter’s Veil.

Caeliri had been unable to unwrap them, unable to get rid of them, unable to disturb the undelivered gifts. So she’d left them where they lay, with several other gifts that would never be delivered, and committed herself to the duties demanded of her.

Once, she might have been proud of how well she’d severed her Self from her Station, how she’d faced the familiar horrors of the infirmary - the scent of blood and perforated bowels, the weeping, the death knells of those would not make it through the night, the glassy, pleading eyes of those she could not save - without a thought spared to the aching chasm in her chest, but this was no time for pleasure, no time for pride. She was only ever a step ahead of the pain, only able to keep it snapping at her heels, never gaining any real distance from it.

Across the bar laughter wrung out, loud and bright and barking, and Caeliri’s attention pulled across the dancing colors of the inn towards the sound. Across the bar, someone threw their head back, golden hair fanning freely with the motion, catching in the fire’s glow and erupting with gilded light, and Caeliri’s world was

             S                      H                               A                                      T                                              T                                                    E                                                           R                                                                 E                                                                       D      

        into a thousand, screaming points of light, a hundred, million erupting stars.

It burned.

Caeliri pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, hard, hoping to quell the whirling of her vision and the popping lights that flashed in the darkness. At last the blazing settled, the burning ebbed, and she pulled her hand from her face and creaked her eyes open.

Across the table from her sat Sederis, head half-bowed towards an overflowing plate, hastily shoveling food into his face, faster than Elleynah could dole it out.

Caeliri’s heart plummeted to the soles of her feet. When it struck ground, it erupted with such intensity that the vibrations rung out in every inch of her body, in her fingers, in her toes, in the tips of her ears. Cold crept painfully through her chest and her rum-bloated stomach began to churn.

The other mender reached out to grab a handful of scarlet hair just before he hoovered it into his mouth, tucking it behind one long, scar-dabbled ear before moving onto to the next plate with a half-hidden, wholly-fond roll of her eyes. Beside him Lirelle snapped her head back up, golden hair swishing forward over her shoulders as she pointed an accusing finger at Arrenir, across the table and one chair down. Smooth laughter was the only response, and the gentle clink of a fork brushing a plate.

Lirelle slammed an open palm on the table, sending all their silverware leaping off the polished mahogany, and it was Vaelrin’s turn to cast his head back and let loose a thundering laugh as fury creased Lirelle’s features. Elleynah’s freckled hand shot out to steady a glass that almost tipped, saving Arrenir’s plate from being doused in pale champagne, and Sederis - his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk - laughed, and gagged, and for all his war-hewn reflexes could not lift a hand fast enough to keep from spitting half-chewed food across the table on to her plate.

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me That I live and you are gone

She was supposed to squeal, supposed to reach out and shove her plate across the table, relenting her meal to Sederis now that his half-chewed food was floating in her stew, and Elleynah was supposed to rush off towards the kitchen, and Lirelle was supposed to follow her, demanding the ginger-witch sit her ass down and eat and let her get Caeliri another dish.

Arrenir was supposed to offer her his plate, safe from Sederis-spit and spilled champagne both.

Vaelrin was supposed to take a smug drag from his cigar and waft cinnamon-rich smoke over the table.

But Caeliri did not move.

She did not squeal.

She did not shove her plate away.

She sat, statuesque, and let the memory move around as the tears swelled up in her vision, until there were nothing but colorful smears shifting in her vision.

Someone was calling her name.

Someone was pulling on the tether of her attention.

Someone tried to draw her from the phantom faces, and she did not want to go. Caeliri blinked hard, letting the tears stampede down her rosy cheeks, waiting for her vision to clear and the room to right itself.

"Dawnsworn.” Her name was murky and a thousand miles away.

Lirelle was pushing Elleynah back through the doorway, shoving her towards the seat she’d not yet occupied, and Elleynah was digging her heels in, freckled face flushed at the admonishments Lirelle peppered over her.

“Dawnsworn.”

Stop it.

Vaelrin’s hand subtly snuck up on to her knee, giving the bony protrusion a secretive squeeze.

“Dawnsworn.”

Go away. Leave me be.

Arrenir was swapping plates with her, and Sederis was muttering apologies from behind his hand as he tried to choke down the last of his food.

A hand fell on her shoulder, shaking her with enough might to wobble her entire torso, and she looked up at the offending force, at the face that had torn her from her dream delusion.

Anokirin Sunstalker was hovering over her, not that she could actually see him. His face was a blur of colors bent by firelight, only identifiable by his voice. “Dawnsworn. Are you deaf, girl? How many deep are you?”

Caeliri pulled her eyes from the barely-familiar man, shrugging her slim shoulder out of his grasp, glancing back to the empty chair across from her.

“Another storm is brewing in the south. We need to leave by daybreak if we’re going to make it to the Ridges. You gonna be okay?”

No. “Yes, I’ll be okay to ride.”

The answer was sufficient. 

Anokirin haunted her no longer, the heat of his frame dying as he moved away, leaving Caeliri to her rum, to her vacant table, and to the empty chairs she’d arranged around herself in a facsimile of a family dinner.

Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will meet no more.

[[ Hey @retributionpriest @thepilgrimofwar, I hate the both of you so much for making me feel things about RP stories again. Big dislike. I’m going to miss your characters so, so, so much. I’m going to miss the times we RPed all together out in Suramar last year like you’d miss a limb, but I can’t wait to write new stories with you both. Same for the rest of you. @forever-afk @stormandozone and @jonathan-nevermore-smith since your dude showed up for a couple seconds in this story. @thesunguardmg]]

[the-salty-asian]

My Immortal | Chapter One

A/n: Hello! So sorry this took so long to post! I hope I can get things running more smoothly soon! Enjoy :)

Warnings: none that I can think of

Word Count: 1.2k

Date Unknown

“You’d think they found a better way to contain me after all these years.”

His head glanced around the all too familiar prison he’d been stuck in the past few millennium. Still he played their game, drawn up against the wall exhaustion lingering about him. It would do him some good to rest for awhile. The recent fight had drained him tremendously. Meanwhile, his mind flicked through his memories like the box shaped invention with the tiny people who lived in it. What did the humans call it again? he pondered over it for a couple of minutes then pushed it to the side for another time. Again he fast forward through the centuries. He hovered on the most recent one, a small smile playing on his lips.

June 30, 1953

Castiel perched on the barstool his fingers twirling the paper straw between them. A few people offered curious glances at his face. His bruises had lightened to a lavender shade circling his eye and jaw. However, the cuts on his cheek and lip still remained prominent red. The shop’s bell announced a new customer as a milkshake was being placed in front of him.

“Heya Cas!”

The angel turned to face Dean who leaned against the counter. The 1950’s looked outstanding on the Winchester. His hair was slicked back and was accompanied by a black leather jacket. A humorous smirk graced his lips. The boy wasted no time in reaching across him and pulling the strawberry milkshake to him. Cas watched him sip quietly on it as Dean returned his gaze.

“What do you want Winchester?”

The corner of Dean’s lip tugged upward, “You, me movies seven sharp.”

“And why would I do that?” Cas crossed his arms over his chest.

Dean tilted his head close to the angel. His hot breath brushed against his ear, “Because I know you’ll be there.”

When he drew away there was a wild grin spread on his face. He slid the glass closer to Cas before dismounting the bar stool. Any reply the angel had immediately melted at his lips. He contemplated the older Winchester while he made his way for the door. The bell chimed once again as Dean opened it. He turned his face to Cas and shot him a wink. Then he let the door swing close behind him.

***

A warm breeze passed by gently sending leaves scuttling across the pavement. Castiel checked his watch for the hundredth time since arriving.

“Aw come on Cas have a little faith in me!”

The angel lifted his eyes in the direction of his voice. Dean was approaching him with his hands stuffed in his leather jacket and a wide grin set into his face.

“I-I don’t know what you mean?”

He leaned his face inches apart from Cas, “You didn’t think I’d show.”

Whatever witty reply Cas had was caught in his throat as he held Dean’s gaze. After centuries of diving into his wondrous green eyes he couldn’t get enough. They tended to be the most beautiful in the sunlight but even now Castiel couldn’t break the stare. His vessel’s heart slammed against his rib cage and his eyes lowered to his pink lips. Dean righted himself, a smug smile plastered to his face and pushed past Cas. The boy pulled out a few crumpled dollars and slipped them under the glass wall to the employee.

He smiled at the girl, “Two for Planet of the Apes.”

She returned the expression along with the tickets she slid underneath the glass. “Enjoy your movie!”

He clapped a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “Come on Cas.”

Dean steered them to the concession stand placing a random assortment of coins on the counter. The man behind the counter barely acknowledged the pile of coins and busied himself with a bucket of popcorn. He handed it to Dean and flashed him a toothy grin.

“On the house Deano!”

Carefully he swiped all the coins back into his jacket, “Thanks Mr. Singer.”

He cradled the popcorn in one arm all while the other stayed between Cas’ shoulder blades. They wandered down the hall to their theater.

“Your pick.”he waved the bucket over the numerous rows of seats.

Cas scanned the theater, a few people were scattered around in clusters. He chose two seats in the middle of one of the higher rows. Dean stayed glued to Cas’ side as he guided them to their seats. They settled onto the plastic folding chairs and Dean placed the popcorn between them.

“Um, Dean you can let go of my shoulder.”

“Oh yea sorry.”he smiled apologetically, returning his arm to his side.

Heat radiated off the angel’s cheeks and he hoped that the theater would darken soon to hide it. At his request the lights began to dim above them. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as the screen flickered to life.

The opening scenes displayed chimpanzees mutilating into larger human-like versions of themselves. Cas didn’t understand the enjoyment of these films, they all seemed rather pointless but he went along with it for Dean’s sake.

A few minutes in, Dean arched his back with his arms stretched straight up and let one fall around Cas’ shoulder. Cas held back his sarcastic remark instead letting a cheesy smile take over. He tore his eyes away from the screen to focus them on Dean. The man he had fallen in love with was awed by the screen in front of him. His fascination made the angel’s heart swell with a new level of affection.

Dean turned to face him, “Everything ok?”

Cas nodded at him and smiled so hard his cheeks started to burn. His blue eyes studied Dean’s facial structure. The pale light from the screen illuminated the darker freckles that peppered his nose and cheeks. A white scar hovered just above his upper lip. Castiel’s eyes were locked on those pink lips. Dean’s tongue poked out, gliding it over his bottom lip. The Winchester’s green eyes flicked down to Cas’ lips as he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. Without thinking Cas placed his hands on either side of Dean’s perfect face and crashed his lips to the boy’s. He responded almost instantly completely taking control of the kiss. Dean wrapped his hands around the angel’s forearms in an attempt to pull him over the armrest separating the two. He pulled away but his eyes remained shut. Dean lightly shook his shoulder a smile in his voice.

“Open your eyes idiot.”

Slowly, his lids inched back to reveal a shit eating grin painted on Dean’s face.

“You’re not such a bad kisser Novak.”

The angel stumbled over his words, Dean always had that effect on him anyway. The Winchester laughed and cupped Cas’ face with his hands and kissed him again.

Castiel mentally paused it at that moment, letting the feelings bubble inside him. What would ensue moments after, opened up a never healing wound. That’s when he realized he needed to get out. If he died they would rebuild him, it’s what they always did and they always gave him that option. So he would play along, this is what Raphael wanted, but his brother would soon be dead.

A/n: if you’d like to be tagged in this please blow up my ask box!

Tag list: @sassymurderousangel @thewnchstrs