#coloring in hair is harder than drawing hands from start to finish this is wild

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

i have the “don’t zoom in and everything will be fine” syndrome

[id: screenshot of procreate. an incomplete anime style feminine presenting person, with light blue hair, navy flowy cape, and fair skin. end id]

[yeenybeanies]

Slaying Monsters

i started this three months ago, and decided it was time to finish it. i’ve been wanting to write a piece with dev & some other gang members for a while now i didn’t proofread it yet don’t @ me

red dead redemption | charles smith & devin clarke ( oc )

3,728 words

language, blood, & animal death warnings

thanks for reading!! reblogs > likes!! patreon | ko-fi

Unattended bags are always tempting to a borrower. It’s partly survival and partly curiosity that draws the little beings to bags and boxes and other such vessels that contain stuff. Ideally, that stuff would be useful. 

Such is Devin’s idea upon approaching a lone saddlebag. They’ve been watching it for a while now. It has remained unbothered and undisturbed atop a tree stump for over an hour. Surely there’s bound to be something good inside, what with the many members of the Van Der Linde gang constantly coming and going. And surely, whatever those contents may be, small amounts won’t be missed.

The coast is clear. The camp is preoccupied in tending to the daily duties; no one is paying the bag any mind. Devin makes a break for it, keeping low as they run through the grass, to the stump. They pause at the base and give the camp a quick look, pleased to see that no one has taken notice of their presence. For just a moment, they allow themself a prideful smirk, then they refocus on the task at hand: climb the stump and get in the bag. The former is hardly a challenge; deep cracks in the bark provide handholds enough that the borrower doesn’t need their hook or climbing equipment to scale it. Despite the strap and buckle keeping the bag shut, Devin is small enough to slip through a gap and reach the interior. 

The space is dark and cramped, but some light filters in through the gap they’d entered. The first thing Devin notices is the smell of leather and sweat, and fabric beneath their feet. Clothing. It’s best not to take anything from these; missing scraps from a shirt or a pair of pants would definitely be noticed. Deeper down, past the clothes, another smell becomes more prominent: something earthy and floral. That could be useful. Devin crawls through the mounds of fabric, navigating the musty space, until their hand brushes something soft. A bit more pawing around reveals it to be an umbel of little flowers. Intrigued, they grasp the stem and pull the plant into the light for better inspection. 

“ What the hell…. ”   White flowers, jagged leaves…. Devin scrunches their nose, confused. Is their plant identification knowledge failing them? Or is the owner of this bag an idiot? 

Pondering is short-lived. Footsteps approach from the outside––a human. Devin’s heart speeds up. They drop the plant and dive for cover within the clothes just as the bag is lifted. It sways in the air with the human’s long strides, most disorienting. When the swaying stops, the borrower remains hidden, knowing full-well that they are not safe yet. There’s an exchange of words overhead, a brief moment of stillness, and then the world starts tumbling. Devin clutches hard onto the clothing concealing them. Much to their chagrin, this particular jostling is painfully familiar. They’re on a horse. 

Somehow, being in a saddlebag is worse than being stuck under a hat. 

Fuck. 

Suppressing the sickening feeling in their stomach and the myriad of emotions swarming their brain, Devin fights against the horrible shaking and pushes their way out of the fabric folds. Climbing is significantly harder, but they still press on, going so far as to use their knife and hook for more purchase on the tough leather. Slowly but surely, they manage to reach the opening they’d initially climbed through and peek out. The wind whips and frays their hair and makes it difficult to see much of anything. They catch glimpses of the ground speeding below at breakneck speed, and at the horse’s white-and-grey spotted pelt. 

Most surprisingly, and to some relief, though, is the rider. The long, black hair and the big, sawed-off shotgun identify the man: “Charles!” 

Alas, their voice is unheard over the wind. Devin growls, frustrated, and retreats back into the relative safety of the saddlebag. There’s no use trying to get his attention right now. They’re just going to have to endure the bouncing and the shaking until he slows down. They can only pray that it’s soon.

———

Only an hour or so elapsed by the time the galloping slowed, though, to Devin, it felt like a lifetime. Despite their queasiness (courtesy of the bumpy ride), the borrower pushes free of the mountains of fabric and scrambles up the leathery interior, to the opening. They pause at the rim and focus on swallowing the bile in their throat, then, once it’s clear, level the back of the human’s head with a hard stare. 

They breathe in until their chest burns, and let out the loudest yell they can muster: “CHARLES!”  

The man jumps in his saddle and whips his head around, one hand to the shotgun on his hip. His eyes scan the horizon behind him, well over Devin’s head. 

“Down here. Hey!” They wave an arm, trying to ignore how foolish they feel. Even after months of being around Arthur, it still goes against everything they know as a borrower to flag down a human. 

Were the situation different—were Devin not currently fighting some ferocious nausea—they might find it comical how Charles’s expression changes. First he’s struck with recognition, eyes still on the horizon, and then the color in his face pales with realization and horror. Slowly, as if he were making every effort to delay the inevitable find, his gaze lowers to the gap under the saddle bag flap and the little borrower peeking out. 

“Devin?” It still takes him a moment to process their presence, and then he’s all but falling out of the saddle (much to his horse’s displeasure). After he’s got his feet on the ground and his balance under control, the man unbuckles the saddlebag lid and flips it open. The color is rapidly returning to his face in a heated flush. “M-Miss Clarke, I didn’t know you were—why are you in my bag?” His hand nears them, but Devin waves it off. 

“Don’t. I might puke. It’s a marvel that I haven’t already.” They try to suppress a shudder.  “I didn’t know this was your bag. I just saw it sitting back at the camp, untouched for some time. Thought I could get something useful.” 

Charles grimaces sympathetically and lets his hand come to rest on his horse’s flank. He isn’t thrilled to hear that someone was rummaging through his belongings for things to scavenge, but such behavior is to be expected from a borrower, he figures. It does make him feel a little better to know that Devin hadn’t been targeting him specifically. 

“I should take you back to camp. Arthur would kill me if something happened to you.” Never mind the berating Charles would give himself. He might not know Devin as well as Arthur does, but their charm is infectious. They are well on their way to having another human wrapped around their teeny tiny finger. 

“I’d like that. Eventually. But I don’t think I can take much more galloping right now. Riding in Arthur’s hat was better than riding in here.” The borrower leans over the leather with a quiet groan. The nausea is subsiding, albeit slowly. They do stiffen just a little when Charles lightly rubs a knuckle to their back, but the gentle pressure draws another, more content groan from their tiny lungs. 

“I'm alright,” they say after a minute. They glance up at Charles, offering him a weak but grateful smile, and then look to their surroundings. It’s not anywhere they recognize, but that’s not surprising. “So where are we going? ” 

“Well, I was going out foraging,” the man says. “Now that you’re here, though…” He trails off, uncertain. 

“Oh! Speaking of foraging–––” the borrower vanishes back into the bag, leaving Charles perplexed. Once they emerge again, they hold up a sprig of white flowers. “What the hell are you doing with this?” 

Charles squints at the plant, then raises his brow in realization. “You know what that is?” 

The surprise in his voice is a little insulting. Devin scrunches their nose. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Smith. I’ve lived in the wild most of my life. I know what water hemlock is.” 

He holds his hands up and offers an apologetic shrug. “That’s actually what I was going to forage for. I found some while I was out with Javier the other day, but I didn’t have time to collect more.” 

“Okay.”  Devin inspects the flowers, twirling the stem between their hands. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re going to do with it. Are you planning to poison someone? Is it that Micah guy?” 

That earns them a snort. If only. “No. I use it on my knives and arrowheads. That and oleander sage. Gives them an extra kick.” 

Devin frowns, just a smidge disappointed.  “I suppose that’s a good alternative use. I used to do the same with my knife when I could find hemlock.” They drop the sprig and watch it fall to the ground far below. “It’d be so easy to poison Micah though…” They say so only half-jokingly. 

“Don’t I know it.” Charles shares the sentiment, but he shakes his head. Much as he’d like to see that snake gone, it’s not his place to do anything about his presence. Yet. 

Now that the nausea has passed (for the most part), the borrower pulls themself from the bag and climbs up the saddle, making their way up to the seat. “I’m okay now,” they say. “We’ve already come this far. We might as well go get that hemlock. I can use it too.”

Charles looks a little uncertain, but when he opens his mouth to protest, Devin levels him with a hard stare that makes him think twice. He clears his throat. “Why don’t you ride up here with me?” he offers. “It’d probably be a bit smoother.” 

Smoother would certainly be welcomed. Devin nods and climbs onto the man’s hand when it’s brought down to their level. His skin is warm and rough, similar to Arthur’s hands. Unlike Arthur, though, he carries them with greater caution. Devin pats his thumb. 

“Relax. I’m not made of paper.”  

“Er… right.”  

They can’t fault him for his caution. Charles has significantly less experience handling Devin than does Arthur. If anything, it’s comforting to know that he is actively trying to keep them comfortable. 

He grabs the saddlehorn with his free hand and hauls himself up. First he brings them to his lap, and then, after thinking, lifts them higher to his shoulder, where they climb off. Devin sits just outside of his beaded necklace and takes a handful of his hair. 

“Is this going to bother you?” 

“No, it’s fine. Use what you need. Let me know if you start to slip.” 

Once he’s sure Devin is secure––as secure as they can be on his shoulder––he spurs his horse gently in the ribs. They set off at a slow canter, something a bit less bumpy than the gallop before. Charles is correct: it’s more comfortable riding on his shoulder than it was in the bag, if only a little bit. Devin resigns themself to the reality that they will likely never enjoy travel on horseback, but this is at least tolerable. 

Charles is silent for the most part, which doesn’t bother Devin. They find themself occupied looking at the scenery. From their usual vantage point on the ground, they don’t much get to appreciate views of mountains and trees and vast prairies. Even on the off occasion that they hitch a ride on Arthur’s person, they often take to hiding in his scarf, thus dashing any chances of catching the view. 

Despite the ride’s discomfort, Devin finds themself enjoying this. They are grateful, though, when Charles tugs the reins and brings the horse to a gradual stop. He spares them a glance when they sigh. 

“You doing okay?” 

“Just peachy.” Devin gives the shoulder beneath them a pat. He dismounts rather awkwardly, trying not to jostle them too much. 

It strikes Devin that they have not just one, but two humans invested in their safety and comfort. It leaves them with mixed feelings fluttering about in their chest. 

Best not to dwell on it right now. 

Walking is a little choppy at first, what with Charles figuring out how best to adjust his gait with Devin on his shoulder, but, once he figures out a good rhythm, it smooths out. He steps carefully, eyes scanning the ground for the plants he seeks. Devin watches too, though they’re less focused on the hemlock and more interested in… well, everything else. Hemlock is but one plant in a new area full of things to explore. 

“Hey. Let me down.” Devin gives the man’s hair a light tug, drawing his attention back to them. Though he can’t fully look at them from where they sit, he still furrows his brow in an uncertain expression meant for them. Devin rolls their eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m a big boy, Charles; I walk around on my own every day.”

“I’m sure, but–––”

“Either you let me down or I’m jumping.” That seems to work. Charles acquiesces with a reluctant sigh and gingerly helps the borrower down to the ground. He remains crouched after they hop off of his hand, still looking unsure. Devin waves up at him. “Go on. Keep doing what you were doing. I’m fine.” 

“Yell if you get into trouble,” he says, voice stern. Devin chooses not to take offense. 

“Sure thing.” They part with a final wave and dart off into the grass, out of the human’s view. Still he hesitates, but he does eventually get up and carry on with his task. Devin breathes out an exasperated breath. 

Having the care and concern of two humans is endearing, yes, but it can also be annoying. Devin might need to have a stern talk with the both of them if they keep this overprotective behavior up. They aren’t a child.

Charles does not feel good about just leaving Devin on the ground, but it wouldn’t have been right of him to hold them like some helpless creature. They’ve reminded him twice now that this is the life they live; he makes a mental note to try and be more respectful of that. After all, he reasons that he wouldn’t much appreciate it if someone else tried to keep him from doing the things he does every day. He isn’t palm-sized, but he imagines Devin still doesn’t care to be doted over. So he bites back his unease. He came out here for water hemlock. That’s what he’s going to find. Devin will be okay. 

Following the nearby creek, Charles begins his search. He tests the soil beneath him with his foot, feeling its spring, its moisture, then starts scanning. Familiar white flowers speckle the banks. A faint smile creeps onto his lips. There’s plenty here for him to make use of.

–– –– ––

Devin pushes through the tall foliage, looking high and low for anything that might be useful. They find medicinal herbs, and spices for seasoning. Mentally they commend Charles; he sure knows where to look when it comes to valuable natural resources. Some of these plants are a rare find back at Horseshoe Outlook. They pick and take as much as they can carry, stuffing their bag full. 

All is going fine. It’s going great, even. They’re making their way back down to the ground, munching on a sweet, juicy raspberry. The red fruit soaks their hands, their face, and their clothes, making them appear as though they’d just mauled something. It makes them snicker, thinking how Charles will react to see them like this. Their good humor dies suddenly, though. Devin feels a chill rush down their spine. They pause, alert, head on a swivel. 

In an instant, everything seems to slow down. Devin drops to the ground as a pink, gaping mouth sails just a hair’s breadth over their head. It snaps shut, long fangs closing around air, and the scaly head of a rattlesnake retreats back to its coils, gearing up for another strike. Berry forgotten, Devin pulls their knife and their hook out. They stare the snake down just as it does them. It’s big––not just to them, but by rattlesnake standards. It’s a big fucking snake. The borrower’s heart races in their chest, but they don’t run, nor do they back down.

–– –– ––

Charles takes several clippings of water hemlock and carefully stows them in his satchel. He doesn’t take everything that he sees, not wanting to clear the area of the deadly plant, but he’s pleased with his haul so far. Already he has enough to coat his knives twice over, so he thinks that he could probably give Arthur and Javier some as well, so as not to waste it. He takes a few more stalks, then stands and stretches his back, arms held out to the side. 

“That’s enough,” he mumbles to himself. He turns back to where he’d left Devin and scans the ground. Their tiny footprints are just barely visible in the dirt, and disappear into the grass. 

“Miss Clarke?” he calls, taking a knee near the footprints. They don’t answer. “I think I’m just about done here, so I’m ready to go when you––woah––!” The man jumps back as a rattlesnake head pushes through the grasses. Layers of alarm spike in his brain: it’s a big-ass snake; Devin isn’t here; it has blood on its face; Did it eat Devin––? 

“Just ‘Devin,’ Charles,” says the tiny voice. Charles flinches again. He swears he heard that voice coming from the snake. Did it eat them? He stares on in confusion, pondering whether or not he needs to cut the damn thing open, when its head flops to the side. Hauling it along is the little borrower. 

“Oh my god. Are you––did the snake–––?” He stammers over his words, which surprises Devin. Arthur stammers here and there, but Charles is always so clear and calm when he speaks. They glance down at themself, noting the red stain and slick coating their hands, their head, their clothes… 

“Ah! It’s okay! This isn’t––” they drop the snake and wave their hands, trying to placate the man, “I’m okay! This is all snake blood! And raspberry juice.”

Charles still looks horrified, glancing between the borrower and the rattlesnake. He does note that the blood seems to be coming from a deep wound on its head, right between its vacant eyes. 

“You… killed it?” He gathers himself on his knees and leans forward, gingerly prodding the lifeless body. 

“It tried to kill me first,” they say, sounding almost indignant. “Kinda lucky, though. I haven’t taken down a rattlesnake in a while. I can use it’s fangs and its venom.” 

Charles lifts the carcass from the ground, testing its weight in his hands. His eyebrows shoot up at its heft. When he stands with its head at eye-level, its rattle-tipped tail still touches the ground. 

It’s a big fucking snake. 

“You… killed this monster?” He can’t hide the disbelief––or perhaps it’s awe––in his eyes as he looks back down to Devin.

They huff back up at him, trying not to take offense. “Yeah. I did,” they say, arms crossed over their chest. Charles waves his free hand. 

“I don’t––I don’t mean to doubt you Miss––er, Devin. Sorry, I’m just… impressed.” Impressed would be an understatement. 

Devin rolls their eyes. They adjust their bag and their knife, then trudge on towards Charles. Before they can ask him to, he stoops down and lowers a hand for them to climb onto. Once he has them at his level, Charles can see their annoyance clear as day. 

“I tell you––both you and Arthur, you need to understand that I’m not helpless. I’ve lived my whole life out here. Half of it’s been alone. So spare me your patronizing looks and comments.” There’s venom in their eyes, in their words, as present as that in the venom in the snake’s fangs. 

Charles has no hand free to hold up, but he does dip his head apologetically. “You’re right. I admit, I underestimated you. And I’m sorry for it. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and it’s a learning process.” 

Devin’s features soften a little. They sigh and run a hand through their blood-slicked hair. It’s gross, but it’s not the first time they’ve been covered in blood. It won’t be the last time either. 

“I like you, Charles. A lot. It’s a learning process for me too.” They offer him a half smile, though it does look a bit daunting with their red visage. “I think I’m ready to go home now.” 

The man grimaces. “Think you want to… wash off first? Arthur is going to have a fit if he sees you like this.” 

Devin looks down to themself, returning the grimace. “...yeah, probably. What I can, at least.” The blood wasn’t going to come out of their clothes without any soap, but they could wash their skin and hair off. Maybe they could hide their outerwear from Arthur, too. They had their underclothing on that wouldn’t show bloodstains. 

Rattlesnake draped around his neck, Charles carries the borrower down to the creek and crouches at the bank. He brings his hands down for them to hop off and clean themself off. When they start stripping their outerwear, he turns his head to give them some privacy, and waits for them to draw his attention again when they’re done. Damp, but cleaner, and left in their long underclothes, Devin climbs back into Charles’ hands and scurries up to his shoulder, right next to the snake carcass. 

“You good?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” they say. They give his shoulder a pat. 

Charles stands, still a bit awkward with his passenger, but less so than before. “Pearson is gonna love this snake,” he says, tongue in cheek.

Devin bristles and glares daggers at the man. “This snake is my prize. That man is getting none of it. You can have some of it if you want, since you’re carrying it home, but I’m not sharing it with anyone else.” There’s that venom again.

Charles snorts. He pulls himself into his saddle and spurs his horse, gently pushing her to start trotting. “Right. Of course. My apologies, Devin.” 

[shotofire]

There’s Just Something About Him

•SHOTO TODOROKI x READER

��Overview: having feelings for the icy hot boy just seemed like a lost cause

•Warnings: just some cursing, meantions of anxiety.

•Season: 3

-

You’d always found the split haired boy attractive, but nothing ever went beyond that. It seems that even if you wanted it to nerves would just be in the way. Besides, everyone’s working to become pro-hero’s, who has time for a relationship? With all the shit going on you were almost positive that Todoroki didn’t have you in mind at all. The constant sneak attacks from villains, not knowing when the next person is going to get hurt, it was all too much.

Atleast that’s what you tried to convince yourself. The sweet, quiet boy who’d caught your eye since the first day of school just couldn’t possibly like you. He couldn’t possibly let a thought like that even make it halfway into his head. You’d lost hope a couple months into school, realizing fate definitely wasn’t on your side.

The two of you never got partnered up or even in the same group. It’s as if something is telling you it’s not meant to be. Sure you’d taken your own initiative and made conversation with the boy, but it’s always short lived. He wasn’t the best at talking unless he was on an adrenaline rush during a practice scenario. You had never gotten the luck of him wanting to use your quirks together either.

It truly felt hopeless.

You tried your best not to dwell on these things. If it was meant to be it just would’ve happened by now. Right?

The thoughts left your mind as you walked with your fellow classmates. Today is an exciting day, it was time to move into the new dorms. It took way too much convincing with your family, but eventually they caved in. You knew it’d be hard, they’re just worried about you. At this point the whole world was worried about all of the UA students safety. But everyone can agree that dorms are the safest it can get with all of the new high tech security.

You all stopped, admiring the new tall building in front of you. Knowing Todoroki was going to be in the same building as you every night had your anxiety on edge. But you were also... excited? For what, you had no idea. It was just a swirl of emotions.

Oh no, he’s gonna see my puffy morning eyes.

The happy chatter was cut short when Mr. Aizawa started talking about hero licenses, something that seemed to slip everyone’s minds. He was rather intimidating, eyes stern and serious. It sent a wave of uneasiness throughout the group. He knew the whole class was aware of the plan to save Bakugou, and he wasn’t happy. You stare at him with legs beginning to tremble.

His words cut deep as he threatened the possibility of expelling the entire class. You definitely wouldn’t put it past him, he seems like the type. But, as he said, due to All Might’s retirement the need for hero’s was strong. He couldn’t just get rid of such potential.

You looked at Todoroki’s face and it was frozen, he seemed more worried than anyone else. His heterochromia eyes stayed fixed on Mr. Aizawa, and you couldn’t help but let yourself take in his features. Sure you see the boy almost everyday but it’s hard to get good long looks when you’re sitting in class, he’d easily feel your gaze. There’s already been a couple times where he’s caught you and the embarrassment was too much to handle again.

His jaw was cleanched and sharp as ever. You just loved it. You wondered if it was weird to think about running your slim fingers along the bone of his jaw, it was just so beautiful.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to stare at Todoroki?”

In that moment it felt like you were going to throw up. All eyes shot to you, including Todoroki. Mr. Aizawa was a real ass sometimes but this definitely was the worst thing hes ever done to you, and he’d made you fall on your face after taking away your quirk infront of the whole class. That was absolutely nothing compared to this.

“I- uh, I-I wasn’t, I just-“ you were totally at loss for words. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. The heat on your face was hotter than ever, and you knew it was visible as well.

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes, no longer caring about the predicament, “Anyways, that’s all. Look alive, enjoy your new home.”

That statement didn’t help anyone’s nerves after his little intimidation speech, but you had it the worst. Your face was still red and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Today was not going the way you hoped, and you didn’t dare even peak at Todoroki. You couldn’t help but think he thought you were weird. A girl he barely talks to constantly staring at him, there’s no way he didn’t think that.

The speech about where the boys and girls were was given, including where everything else was. But you could hardly pay attention focus on anything, and you didn’t dare look up.

It was time to decorate your rooms and make it your own, and you couldn’t be more relieved. Finally away from that embarrassment, even though it was waiting for you on the other side of your closed door.

“damnit,” you cursed. No one was going to forget that and you knew it. And the girls were beyond nosey when it came to crushes, especially Ashido.

After a couple hours of getting things together there was a knock on your door. You immediately froze. It’s like you had forgotten where you were and what had happened for a little bit, but of course you were quickly brought back to reality.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Its Uraraka, can I come in?”

Shes always the sweetest and you knew she wouldn’t bug you about anything. Especially after seeing the way you reacted. Uraraka always had her suspicions that you found Todoroki cute, your eyes practically lit up everytime he did something.

You granted her permission and continued to put your pillows neatly on the bed. She was in her pj’s but definitely seemed wide awake.

“Oh wow, your room is so cute (y/n)! Nothing compared to mine,” her smile was huge. You just adored her, she always brightened up your mood.

“Thank you so much Uraraka, you’ll have to show me your room later before that is confirmed,” you smiled back.

“Oh course! Actually, speaking of rooms, that’s what I came here for. The girls and I convinced the guys to show us their rooms and we kinda turned it into a little contest. Wanna join?”

Her request was extremely appealing. You immediately wondered what Todoroki’s room looked like, and now was your opportunity to see it. But the nerves were still there, and the embarrassment was even stronger. You just couldn’t face everyone right not, especially Todoroki’s. He probably didn’t want your creep self in there anyways.

“Thanks for asking Uraraka, but i’m very tired. I was just planning on finishing my room and crashing. But I still would like to see your room sometime tomorrow,” you said while trying to hold your smile. But she could see the said frown behind it, but she didn’t want to bother you any further. She could only imagine how she’d react and feel if Mr. Aizawa did that to her. She’d be completely horrified.

“You got it, see you tomorrow (y/n). Sleep well!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders fall limp.

I really wish I could see his room, I bet it’s awesome.

In all honestly you figured Todoroki would be relieved you didn’t show. God, class tomorrow was going to be hell. You just knew it, there’s no way you’d be able to focus knowing the whole class knows you’re a freak who can’t keep your eyes off the icy hot boy.

You pushed your thoughts aside, ignoring them to the best of your ability. You attempted to sleep, but the constant stamper of footsteps above you and outside your door was keeping you from the world of dreams. The world where assholes like Mr. Aizawa didn’t completely humiliate you.

Just as sleep started to creep up on you, there was another knock on your door. It was soft, and you immediately knew it wasn’t Uraraka. You sat up in the darkness, reaching for your bedside lamp. It faintly lit the room with a yellow glow, and made a light buzzing noise. You were too tired to speak up and ask who it was, so you forced yourself out of bed.

Maybe it was Momo, she did say she was looking forward to seeing your room. You pushed your wild hair out of your face before opening the door. And when you saw who was standing there a sharp breath immediately got caught in your throat. You let out a light cough.

“Todoroki?” you asked confused. He was all alone, no one with him. The lights in the hallway were out, one could only assume the competition was over and everyone else had gone to bed. Yet here he is, standing before you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing ever. You didn’t know what to say, he’d never even approached you first. But he can knock on your door late at night to talk to you?

You looked at him in disbelief. In that moment you realized how little you knew about this boy, and how odd this situation was.

“What time is it?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said. He huffed, he knew you’d be difficult. You two may not talk much but he’s good at observing. He knew you more than you’d think.

“Almost 12, not too late. Can I talk to you?” This time he asked, therefore making it harder to avoid.

“Uh, I-In here?” You asked.

You couldn’t help but think he was here to tell you to stop being a creep. He wasn’t interested in you and would really appreciate it if you could stop with the creepy stares.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers.

At those words, you move aside. Widening the door so that he can come in. The smell of vanilla hit you in the face as he walked past, and his eyes immediately began to observe your room.

Todoroki is in my room... what the actual fuck is going on!?

His hand comes up to point at your wall, “Did you draw those?”

Your eyes dart to the colorful art pinned to your wall.

“Y-Yes.”

The constant stuttering was making you loose your mind. But when your anxiety is this high you can’t manage to think straight. Not even one word can come out without a struggle.

“I like them.”

You swallow, hard. He probably heard it. The room was so quiet without one of you talking, unbearably quiet. Without words the only sound was the faint buzzing of your lamp you’d turned on only a few minutes ago.

“Oh, uh, Thanks,” a blush began to creep onto your face. Your hand came up to cover your face as you looked down. You knew you looked odd in the moment, but it was better than him seeing how much he can effect you so easily.

Todoroki looked at you with sweet eyes, although you couldn’t see them due to your current state. He thought you looked cute right now, all bashful. That’s something he has always liked about you. Your cheeks got red so easily when you were embarrassed, nervous, flustered, even when you were tired.

He noticed these things because you interested him, you always had. You were way too cute and sweet to not catch his attention. He just truly sucked when it came to talking to girls. Especially pretty girls like you.

“I, um,” this time it was Todoroki at a loss for words. He had a plan before he came in, but now as he stood in your room it was much harder to think clearly.

You looked up at him, his hand was raking through his hair. He seemed almost... nervous.

Why the hell would he be nervous?

“I was uh wondering if you, uh, would like to,” he took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was stuttering too much and overthinking, it was just a simple question he was trying to get out.

He locked eyes with you, “Would you like to go grab some food after school tomorrow?”

Your mouth fell open, but you quickly covered it with your hand. There was no way, no damn way.

“You mean, j-just me and you?” You asked, making sure you were  interpretating this correctly.

“Yeah, Yeah,” He nervously laughs, “Like a uh, date.”

Like a what now?

There was absolutely no way this was real, you had to be dreaming.

“is this a joke?” You ask, but you meant to only think it.

His eyes widen and he quickly began waving his hands, “W-What? No, of course not! I really want to go on a date with you, I think it’d be fun. Plus you’re super sweet and pre-“ he stops himself.

C’mon man, you’re gonna scare her off by being too forward.

“Yeah, i’d really like that Todoroki,” your smile was surpressed by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. At this point you wanted to jump for joy, but you didn’t want to scare this chance away.

“Okay cool, so after school. Tomorrow, you and me,” his nervous laugh comes back, “on a date.”

You can’t help but giggle, you’d never seen Todoroki so nervous before. Not in this way at least. It was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen.

“You got me after school Todoroki,” you giggled again, “You and me on a date.”

And with that, the two of you said your goodbyes, which were a little awkward considering the two of you kept letting nervous laughter slip.

As soon at the door shut, you let out a happy squeal. It didn’t even bother you that he might of heard it, you really didn’t care. You were so overjoyed that nothing could kill your mood.

On the other side of the door Todoroki had the geekiest smile on his face. He walked to his room completely satisfied. He did it, he finally asked the girl he liked on a date.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself.

This definitely was heading in the right direction.



[lemonpeter]

Sharing Is Caring

So here is my second fic for @starkerfestivals Among Us event. Yes, this is quite a bit darker than what I typically write lol but I hope everyone enjoys if this is your thing ❤️

Warnings: threesome (kinda), Steve/Peter sex, choking, murder, brief necrophilia, nff for a variety of reasons

2.5K words

————

“I don’t know, Tony,” Peter mused, uselessly tapping away at the controls in an attempt to look busy in case anyone else stopped in.

He and Tony were sent on their task of stopping the mission from happening. Of course, the most efficient way to do so was eliminating the crewmates supposed to do their own tasks to get the ship to take off. They’d only managed four victims so far, halfway there. But just killing was boring and had gotten old quickly.

So Tony had proposed an alternative method.

The other imposter sighed softly, looking up from what he was (faking) doing. “Come on, you know it’ll work.” He bumped Peter with his hip. “And you keep making those eyes at Rogers, I know you want him.”

His cheeks colored, burning a soft pink. “Shut up. Like you don’t look at him the same way.”

Tony scoffed. He wasn’t going to easily be flustered like Peter was. He would own up to being horny for the actual crew. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s gorgeous and I, for one, would love a piece of that.” He laughed. “And it just makes taking one out that much more fun.”

“Alright, alright. I mean- do you think he’ll be hard to convince?”

Tony grinned. He knew that Peter would have agreed anyways, but it was good for it to happen so quickly. Just gave more time to have fun and draw things out. Before the inevitable end. “No, I don’t think so. Not at all.”

“Then...let’s go talk to him.”

They worked out their plan for asking as they walked. Peter would propose it at first. No one could deny his bambi eyes when he asked for something, a fact Tony knew firsthand. Then Tony would assure him that they both want him, it would be amazing to get together.

Then once they got him in bed, they wouldn’t quit until his heart did.

It didn’t take them long to find Steve, his red suit standing out among the silvery grey control panels of the reactor. Not that he could be missed anyways, he was huge compared to most of the other crewmates.

So Peter approached him, an air of shyness around him. It was all an act, of course, but Steve wouldn’t know that.

“Mr. Rogers?” He asked softly, peeking around him like he wanted to see what Steve was doing. “Busy at work?”

Steve glanced over, cracking a small smile when he saw the other man. “Hey, Pete. Just call me Steve, really.” He laughed. “And yeah, just finishing up. Don’t want anything in here to start melting down, you know?”

“Oh, I know.”

Tony had to resist laughing at that. What Steve didn’t know was that Peter was typically the reason the reactor melted down. He thought it was fun to watch the crew panic to fix it as soon as possible. Tony preferred simpler methods of sabotage that didn’t risk killing him and Peter as well.

Peter slowly set his hand on Steve’s arm, no-so-subtly squeezing to feel the muscle there.

The crewmate looked at him, blinking. “Peter?”

“Yeah?” The imposter smiled at him sweetly. He slid his hand up until it was resting on the man’s bicep. “I was thinking….” he glanced back to Tony who gave him a thumbs up.

“Thinking? Tell me what you were thinking,” Steve murmured, eyeing the hand touching him. He didn’t really know where the conversation was going, but Peter and Tony definitely had a reputation around the ship for their sex life being...active. And it felt like they had sought him out. So he had the vaguest idea of what might be happening.

“I just- I’m so attracted to you, Steve.” He bit his lip gently, eyelashes batting as he looked up at the man.

The crewmate turned slightly, eyes darting to Tony. “Y-you are?” He looked back to Peter, studying his face to try and tell if he was lying or not.

But Peter wasn’t lying. And even if he had been, Steve wouldn’t have been able to tell. The imposter was good at what he did. Steve wasn’t any wiser. “Of course I am. You’re amazing and so sexy,” he purred. “Just can’t help it. And...I was wondering if you’d like to be with me.”

“Be with you? Like...like sexually?” He looked to Tony again, who coughed to hide his laughing.

“Of course, silly.” Peter laughed. “What else would I mean?”

His hand on Steve’s bicep moved down again, slipping over his shoulder and down the side of his chest. The crewmate shivered.

“I mean...that would be incredible. If you really want that.” He raked a hand through his hair.

“And would it be okay if Tony joined?” Peter asked sweetly, holding his free hand out for his lover to grab. “I know he’s thought about it too.”

“Oh...well, yeah. Of course he can. He’s your...partner?” Steve said it like a question, unsure of the relationship between the two.

Of course, they were partners. He just only knew about the one meaning of it, though.

Tony chuckled. “So we’ve got a plan. If you’re all finished up here, I think we could get started as soon as possible?”

Steve nodded slowly. “I’m all finished up. Finished- did my task. And I’m almost done with all mine, so I guess I can spare a little time for...recreational activities.” He grinned a little.

Peter laughed at the phrasing of what he said, but nodded all the same. “Of course! We’re almost done as well, I think it’s just two more each and then we’re done.”

The other imposter nodded. Technically it was the truth. Only, their tasks weren’t exactly what was in the discussion. Two tasks left each. Four crewmates left in total.

“Well, good!” Steve exclaimed. “We can definitely take some time then. It’ll be a good time. Who’s room should we go to?”

Peter smiled a little. “Maybe...we could do something a little riskier?” He proposed.

Maybe someone’s personal quarters made more sense and would be more comfortable, but it wasn’t about comfort. The imposters didn’t want to be caught with a corpse in their personal areas. So staying right where they were made more sense.

“What do you have in mind?” The crewmate asked nervously. He wasn’t sure how he felt about risks. What he was already doing with them felt wild enough. He wasn’t sure about adding more.

“Maybe we could stay in here,” Peter murmured, pressing himself against Steve’s side as he talked. Maybe the contact would make him more compliant. “Anyone could catch us...that sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

So much fun.

Tony made sure the door was locked before they started. Not that Steve knew that. The crewmate believed that the fun was all in possibly getting caught, but Peter and Tony knew better. They couldn’t get caught. Not with their end goal in mind.

While his lover secured the area in secret, Peter began undressing Steve from his suit. Luckily, it was all one piece so it was very easy to get off. Then he discarded his own with little regard and stripped off his own briefs.

Steve admired the man’s figure as he worked on getting himself completely uncovered as well.

Peter was absolutely gorgeous, thin but muscled in all the right places. He had a plump, lovely ass that just wasn’t done justice in his suit. His cock was on the average–leaning smaller– side, but Steve didn’t mind at all. Everything about him seemed to be perfect. Too good to be true.

The man dropped to his knees, hands sliding delicately over Steve’s thick thighs for a moment as he licked his lips.

Then he slowly reached up, pulling Steve down to the floor with him, kissing him hard before pushing him back. “Lay down,” he whispered. “I want to ride you.”

And it wasn’t like Steve was going to say no. Maybe the floor wasn’t the cleanest and maybe not at all comfortable, but he wouldn’t say no to anything Peter said when he looked at him like that.

So he laid down, propped up on his elbows in order to watch the other man as he straddled his lap.

Tony came over to watch them closely, loving watching his love play with their victims. It was always so delicious. His baby was the best actor there was.

Peter stroked the thick cock slowly, shivering as he thought about taking all of it. He would definitely be sore later. But he figured it was all worth it.

He began slowly sinking down onto the cock, groaning in harmony with Steve.

“God, you’re tight,” the crewmate rasped out, watching him closely.

“You’re just so big,” Peter moaned, face screwed up in slight discomfort as he sunk all the way down and stayed still for a moment to adjust.

After his moment he started moving, bouncing on Steve’s cock and squeezing down like he really wanted to please the other man.

Steve moaned, hips rocking in time with Peter’s movements. He hadn’t been with anyone in so long, but he instantly determined that no one he’d ever been with could compare to Peter.

After a few too-loud and close call moments Peter tilted his head back, throat exposed in a way that made Tony want to mark him up and comply to his silent request himself.

“He wants you to choke him,” Tony supplied helpfully.

Steve looked at him, blinking rapidly. “He- what? No. I can’t. That’ll- won’t that hurt him?”

The other man watched, chuckling softly. Clearly Steve didn’t know what to make of the request. “Cmon, just trust me. He loves it,” he encouraged.

Skeptical, Steve gently wrapped a hand around Peter’s throat and squeezed. There was barely any pressure behind it as he didn’t know what exactly to do.

Tony shook his head. “No, no, harder. You have to do it harder than that if you want him to like it. He can take more than you’d think, don’t worry.”

The crewmate watched the man riding him, breathing hard. “Okay….”

He slowly tightened his grip, watching Peter’s expression change from pleased to completely blissed out.

The young man’s hips jerked as he worked to keep up his movements, but just the immediate action of being choked made his cock twitch and balls tighten as he fought against cumming instantly.

After a few moments, Steve let go when Peter’s face began turning red and he seemed to try and gasp for air he couldn’t get.

He watched closely, almost in awe at how much Peter seemed to love it. He couldn’t imagine being in such sheer pleasure from being choked like that.

His grip tightened again and he moaned at the pathetic whimper that left Peter.

“Look how happy that makes him,” Tony mused. “He’s so lost in it, so desperate and relaxed at the same time.”

Steve gently loosened his grip for a moment, listening as Peter gasped for air. He almost missed what Tony said next.

“Do you want to try, Stevie?”

The crewmate looked at the other man, grip going slack around Peter’s neck as he listened and thought about it. Did he want it? The prospect of being choked made him a little nervous, but then he thought about how much Peter seemed to enjoy it. The action had almost gotten him to the edge alone, it had to have been good.

So Steve slowly nodded, biting his lip. “I think- I mean, that might be nice. To try.”

A grin tugged at Tony’s lips and he didn’t try to hide it. “I can do that for you. I’ll make it good, I promise.”

And it was sealed.

Tony moved to a better position, kneeling at Steve’s side so that he wasn’t blocking the man’s view of Peter riding him. Might as well have a pretty sight for his last few moments.

He wrapped one hand around Steve’s neck, not going anywhere close to all the way around. But he didn’t need that much yet. He just needed around the front and part of the sides, which was what he got.

The crewmate watched him, almost nervous, before relaxing as Tony started closing his grip.

He instantly saw the appeal, heart racing at the initial slight panic of what was going on, but the feeling only adding to the high of what he was feeling. It didn’t take him long to get slightly light headed and feel floaty, and he understood the blissed look on Peter’s face.

But then he started panicking again when Tony’s grip didn’t loosen. He couldn’t breathe.

He reached one hand up to push the man away but Peter held his arm down and Tony’s other hand wrapped around his neck as well.

In his terror, he suddenly understood.

They were the imposters.

Tony didn’t let go until Steve’s body went completely slack, eyes blank as every bit of life left him with the lack of oxygen to his brain.

Peter cried out as he watched, still riding the crewmate’s cock with renewed vigor. He loved watching their victims slip away, it made him feel so powerful even if he wasn’t the one doing it directly. “Oh fuck, Tony, I’m gonna cum,” he breathed.

His lover chuckled, moving closer and sliding a gentle hand over Peter’s chest and moving down to wrap around his cock. He stroked it quickly, helping him get closer. “Go ahead, honey, you deserve it. Come on. You did so amazing with him, go ahead and make a mess, cum all over him.”

The younger imposter whimpered, movements slowing as he reached his high. Cum spurted over Steve’s torso, painting the paling skin white.

By the time he was completely finished, Peter was panting and whining softly from the overstimulation of continuing to have the crewmate’s cock in him. He slowly moved off, getting his suit back on gently.

“We should clean him up quickly,” Tony mused. “No evidence.” He grabbed a stray rag as he talked, wiping up the mess that Peter had made.

Peter made sure there was no other sort of evidence, making sure the scene was pristine and nothing could be led back to them.

And as soon as everything was clean, they were gone. Slipped through the vents. They left Steve’s body in the reactor to rot until someone came to look for him or accidentally stumbled upon the scene.

When the body was eventually found, it wasn’t mentioned the state that it was in.

Maybe whoever found him was too shy to talk about how Steve was found naked. Or maybe they just wanted to let him preserve some sort of weak dignity.

But no one could point fingers to the only ones that would leave him that way. Because they had an alibi.

As soon as they finished with Steve, Tony and Peter quickly went back to the former’s room to ravish each other and bask in the pleasure of their latest kill. They got away with it once again.

Only three left to go.

[viking-raider]

A Soldier’s Daughter - Chapter III

Summary: Skye and Geralt make it to Kaer Morhen and start settling in for the winter there. Geralt starts feeling something he’s desperately trying not too.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/OFC

Word Count: 7,255

Previous Chapters: I II

Rating: PG-13 - Witcher!AU, Language, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Inspiration: The Witcher on Netflix, with instances of the Games and Books.

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to the marvelous @wondersofdreaming for the encouragement and beta!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy​, @the-soot-sprite​, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996​, @dont8mind8me8eue​, @peaky-marvel​, @desperate-and-broken21​, @monstersnmoney​, @dancingwendigo​, @redhot-mystacism​, @thereisa8ella​, @black-ninja-blade​, @oddduckthatgirl​, @rosewinx​, @henrythickcavill​, @tinabean37​, @hnryycvll​, @msblkfire84​, @romangenesius​, @emelinelovesjc​, @strangerliaa​, @lovieebby​, @pinksdaydream​, @fanfictionaddiction99​, @seb-owns-these-tatas​, @oh-for-fic-sake​, @sauvage-et-libre​, @mis-lil-red​, @angreav​, @crazyandanonymous4u​, @the-mighty-jellybean​ @henrycavell​, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​, @iam-laiya​, @worshipping-skarsgard​, @thetruthandotherstories​, @ruthoakenshield​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @theonetheycallhannah​, @nina-skyee​, @thatgirly81​, @inanna999​, @suueeeeeee​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​, @beckster07890​, @daddys-littlewhitegirl​, @magic-and-the-macabre​, @stxphmxlls​, @radaofrivia​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @starstruckkittyangel​, @heartfelt-pen​, @stuckupstucky​, @dummiesshort​, @la-cey​, @singeramg​

Kaer Morhen, also known as the School of the Wolf, had been the home and stronghold for Witchers throughout the countless centuries. It was huge and bleak, its back butted up against the massive mountain ranges that composed the Blue Mountains of Kaedwen.

Several of its towers and walls were in sad disrepair, crumbling and toppled over through the years and years of neglect and inefficient means to repair them. As straight forward the path looked on the way up the mountain towards Kaer Morhen, it wasn't at all what it seemed to the inexperienced eye, or even an experienced one; many Witchers over the years had found themselves lost on the trail, after being away from school for so long, they had forgotten where to look. Anyone seeking entry into Kaer Morhen, and didn't know where to go, would only end up going in circles around the stronghold, and before they even finished the first go around, the Witchers inside would know of their presence.

Geralt and Skye walked along the mountain path towards the stronghold, the snow almost to her knees, the forest around them shushed in the thick blanket of the white powder, a sparse flurry of thick flakes stirred around them in the blowing breeze. The atmosphere around them was so peaceful and calming, the crisp air filling their lungs and making their cheeks rosy in color. Geralt paused for a moment, fumbling for something in Roach's bag, when something smacked him in the back, and he turned around to Skye, who looked behind her, then frowned back at Geralt.

“What?” She lifted a brow at him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you just throw snow at me?” He asked, suspicious.

“I don't even know what that is.” She countered, frowning at him harder, but her green eyes danced with guilt. “Roach must have done it.”

“While facing me?”

“You're the Witcher, I'm sure you've seen crazier.” Skye grinned at him.

“Hm.” Geralt hummed, shaking his head at her and going back into Roach's bag. “Come along, snow thrower.” He called to her over his shoulder, moving off the path and vanishing into a thicket of trees.

Skye frowned and blinked, then moved after him, following the foot and hoof prints in the once virgin blanket of snow. “Why are we off the path?” She called after him, trying her best to catch up with him through the deep snow.

“Won't we get lost?”

“No, I know where I'm going.” Geralt replied over his shoulder, then paused, letting her catch up. “Here.” He stilled Roach, holding her reins tight and pulled himself into the mare's saddle. “We'll be going uphill the rest of the way and the snow is only going to get deeper. It'll be easier and less of a chore, if we ride Roach.” He explained to her, reaching down to her.

Skye hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, allowing him to boost her up into Roach's saddle behind him; she gulped as she settled behind him, thighs gripping Roach's sides. They had never been in such close and tight proximity, they rarely even touched, unless absolutely required, and even then it was only for a split moment, before breaking apart again. Skye was instantly surrounded by the intense heat of Geralt's body, which nearly matched Roach's, she felt the icicles that had frozen inside of her over the last two and a half days start to drip as they thawed between Roach and Geralt's body heat. It was by pure instinct, that she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chest against his board back, slipping a bit closer to him as Roach started forward.

Geralt's body was stiff as they rode towards Kaer Morhen, the solid and light weight of her body pressed against his caused the twinge that had been planted in the pit of his stomach, like a seed in the ground, to start germinate and threatened to send its thin and fragile roots even deeper into the Witcher's body, taking a hold of him, permanently. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body and mind to kill it, before it could properly grow and turn into something he simply could not allow to happen, not again.

He couldn't take it again.

As Kaer Morhen finally came into full view, Skye pushed herself up in Roach's saddle to see over Geralt's shoulder to check it out. It was huge, hulking, run down and gloomy, she felt her mood almost plummet, seeing the new home she would be spending the next three month in with Geralt and Vesemir. Her family farm wasn't much, but at least it was a sight better than this place was. She sighed and sat back again, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against Geralt's back, feeling his leather armor underneath his thick black cloak. He sighed softly, knowing she still wasn't happy about all that was going on, the situation seeming more dire than it really was, but they were both learning to tolerate it.

The rusted portcullis of Kaer Morhen's front gate was closed as Skye and Geralt approached on Roach, at last. But, a few feet from it, a groan sounded through the air, both echoing in the vast mountain range and hushed by the thick blanket of snow that surrounded it, an eerie phenomenon, that gave Skye a shiver. The rusted, iron gate started to draw upwards, complaining the whole way up, but Geralt didn't seem alarmed that the gate just suddenly opened, with no one seemingly controlling it.

They proceeded through the stronghold, Skye glancing around at the ruined structures, the wild and overgrown brushes and grass. It felt supernatural and uncanny, like they'd entered some strange and ancient graveyard. Skye felt like she could almost sense and see the residual energy of the Witchers bygone, like they haunted the grounds they had spent so much of their time on, being twisted into advanced humans with vile sorcery. They came to the main building of the stronghold and found a tall man, long gray hair reaching his shoulders and pulled back in a very similar style to Geralt's, with an equally gray, horseshoe mustache and honey-gold eyes.

Skye knew immediately that it was Vesemir, who else could it be?

“Geralt.” Vesemir called out in a deep and raspy voice.

“Vesemir!” Geralt called back with a nod of his head.

“You're late.” The older Witcher pointed out, lifting a gray brow at him. “I didn't think you were coming this winter.” He stated, head tilting as he caught a glimpse of Skye, nearly hidden behind Geralt's wide body.

“Well, I ran into a couple of challenges.” He replied, looking over his shoulder to Skye, who looked terrified, and gave her thigh a gentle pat, before dismounting Roach and helping her down. “Are Lambert or Eskel here?” He asked, tiptoeing around the subject of Skye's presence for a moment.

“Eskel arrived a week ago, he believes Lambert will arrive at some point.” Vesemir replied, cocking his head at Skye. “Who is this?” He asked, turning his head to Geralt, a stern glint in his eyes.

“She's my Law of Surprise.” Geralt explained, glancing between Skye and Vesemir, like he was waiting for a bomb to go off.

Vesemir's eyes narrowed, expression hard, then sighed. “You must be cold, how about some tea?” He inquired, looking at her for a moment, before turning on his heels and going back inside.

“Was that..” Skye turned her head between the door Vesemir went through and Geralt. “Was that a good thing?”

“He didn't throw us out.” Geralt replied, brows lifted and a faint smile, then followed after his old mentor.

Glancing around and clearing her throat, Skye ran after Geralt, following him inside the all stone and drafty keep. Sticking close to Geralt, they walked down a long hallway into a huge and vaulted room, a fire roaring in a massive fireplace, Vesemir standing near it. Geralt motioned Skye to a table and he approached the other Witcher.

“How did you get yourself tied up with a Child of Surprise?” Vesemir asked, staring into the flames. “A female one at that.”

“I saved her father's life, after he was attacked by several drowned dead.” Geralt replied, flexing his frozen fingers in front of the fire. “He was a soldier for Temeria, on his way home for the first time in ages. He didn't know anything about the girl, when we arrived at his farm.”

“But, there she was.”

“So, you brought her here.”

“What was I supposed to do with her?” Geralt snapped, scowling. “Abandon her? Come here and have you scold my ears off about not taking any payment for doing a job.” He argued, shaking his head. “She can be a pain in the ass.”

“And so can you.” Vesemir pointed out, giving Geralt a knowing and stern expression.

Vesemir had known Geralt since he was seven years old, nearly eight decades. He knew all about the Witcher's antics, from killing monsters to Geralt and Eskel causing all sorts of mischief around Kaer Morhen, along with Lambert. The White Wolf had two very different sides, depending on the company he was keeping at the time. In the freedom of Kaer Morhen, Geralt was more himself, than he was anywhere else in the world, but looking him over, Vesemir could see another change coming over Geralt, a change he could just put his finger on and could see Geralt was struggling to keep down and at bay. He looked over at Skye, sipping the tea he had set on the table for her and studied her, while she was unaware of his gaze, she reminded him a bit like Geralt, when he first came and before the trails effectively changed him into what he was now.

“Payment is payment.” He finally agreed. “Is she staying the full winter?”

“Where I go, she goes.” Geralt told him, bluntly.

“Fair enough.” Vesemir chuckled at him.

“Well, hello there!” A deep and raspy voice echoed, catching everyone's attention. “Who are you?”

“Eskel!” Geralt grinned at his fellow Witcher, who was a brother to him.

“Well, shave my goat!” Eskel let out a barking laugh, striding over to Geralt and grabbing him into a bear-hug. “It's good to see you, Geralt! How've you been?”

“I've been well, and you?” Geralt replied, returning the bear-hug.

“Getting older, but not any older than you look.” Eskel roared, his head thrown back.

Geralt had a huge grin on his face, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Eskel, his body vibrating with an amused laugh. Skye stared at the three Witchers standing together by the fireplace, a smile on all of their faces, a real and fond smile at that, as they caught up with one another, trading jokes, friendly jabs and amusing stories from being on the road the last several months. She was surprised by the change that over took Geralt as he relaxed, the months of dealing with people calling him names, chasing after him and every other unfriendly thing they could throw at him, melted away, like an icicle in spring. A smile came to his face easier, his strong and thick body relaxed and his amber-gold eyes bright and alive. Skye hadn't realized she was smiling back, until Vesemir's eye caught hers and he smirked back at her, making her hide her smile and blush around the lip of her tea cup.

“So, who is she?” Eskel asked, tipping his head towards Skye, without looking at her.

“She's Geralt's Law of Surprise.” Vesemir replied, his eyes moving back to the other Witchers.

Eskel laughed and shook his head. “Geralt of Rivia, with a Child of Surprise.” He took unending amusement from this development. “Did you learn nothing after my business with Deidre?” He asked, smirking at him.

“Skye isn't Deidre.” Geralt growled, offended, and uttered her name for the first time since they met, then glanced at her. “She's different.” He said softly, comfortable in expressing himself to his two old friends.

“She's Human, that's why.” Eskel pointed out, glancing at Skye too. “Deidre was cursed.”

“Well, why don't you show her to a room, Geralt. So, she can settle in.” Vesemir suggested to him. “It'll help her transition smoother, if she feels she has a private space of her own.”

“Especially when she's surrounded by three, maybe four, male Witchers, who's best knowledge of women are whores and witches.” Eskel snorted to himself. “But, she seems sweet enough.”

“She has her moments.” Geralt rasped, feeling a root in the pit of his stomach wiggle deeper into his gut.

“Off you go, then. I'm sure you both want to settle in.” Vesemir said, nudging Geralt a little bit.

“Right.” He nodded and moved towards Skye. “Come on, I'll show you up to a room you can stay in, while we're here.” He told her, watching her finish her tea and stand up.

Geralt guided Skye through the massive and winding halls of the Keep, up several sets of spiral staircases, until he walked down a long hallway and pulled open one of the many doors. Skye stepped inside the room, finding it was as dark and gloomy as the rest of Kaer Morhen. Pure dark stone, a slit of a window, a small fireplace in the corner, crude table, with a single candle stick, and chair opposite of it, a simple dresser and a double, poster bed; there were throw furs on the floor and the bed. The room was cold, after so long in disuse, so Geralt, out of habit, built a fire in the grate to warm the room up for her.

“I'll be just down the hall, if you need anything.” He told her, once the fire was going.

“Okay.” She nodded at him, biting her lip and standing in the middle of the room.

It felt odd, for both of them, that they wouldn't be sharing a room together or be a few feet from each other as they had been, while camping out. They stood there in an awkward silence for a few minutes, before Geralt excused himself and left the room, going down the hall to the room he regularly occupied while he was at Kaer Morhen, it had been his room since his mother abandoned him at the School, all those years before.

A little while later, there was a soft knock on Skye's door and when she opened it, she found Geralt standing there with a wooden bowl of something steamy and a mug of something else.

“I brought you some dinner.” He said, lifting them a little bit higher.

Skye swore, if she leaned in just right and squinted hard enough, there would be a smile on Geralt's face.

“Thank you.” She said softy, carefully taking the bowl and mug from him, turning them back into her room to set them down on the table, then took the spoon Geralt held out to her.

“It's not much, just some venison stew.” Geralt explained to her, biting the inside of his cheek. “Eskel killed one this morning and so he decided to stew it.” He continued, licking his lips. “He's a really good cook.” He babbled, finding himself incapable of stopping.

“I'm sure that he is.” Skye replied, smirking at Geralt, seeing the confused fluster in his eyes.

“Do-” Geralt cleared his throat. “Do you need anything?” He asked, glancing around the room.

Skye had unpacked after Geralt brought her things up from Roach's saddlebags, her bed was neatly made, she kept the fire in the grate he started going, so the room was nice and toasty. It did have a slight homey feel to it that Geralt liked a lot.

“I don't think so.” She answered, biting her lip and glancing around, everything seemed to be in the place she wanted it to be.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me. Good night.” Geralt mumbled, moving back to the door. “Skye.” He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him.

Her mouth dropped open as the door closed behind him, surprised to hear him utter her name. “Good night,...Geralt.” She whispered back, slowly sitting down to eat her dinner.

The next morning, Skye tip-toed around the Keep and checked Kaer Morhen out, getting familiar with the layout of where everything was at; all she needed was to get hopelessly lost. Most of the rooms were empty, used as storage, or locked all together. There was zero interest in going outside, a large blizzard had blown in during the night, dumping tons of fresh snow over the grounds.

“Hello, Skye.” A voice echoed into the hall, drawing her towards an open door.

Peeking inside the strange room, Skye saw Vesemir standing in the middle of the room, a sword in his hand. “Vesemir.” She replied, greeting him politely. “Good morning.”

“To you as well.” He smiled, leaning on his sword. “Wandering around, I suppose.”

“Not much else to do.” She chuckled, stepping closer to him.

“True enough.” He laughed, nodding his head and glanced around the room. “I spent most of my time here.”

“Doing what?” She inquired, tilting her head at him.

Vesemir pressed his lips together, his gray brows drawing down over his eyes as he regarded her. “I used to be the combat trainer for the up and coming Witchers of Kaer Morhen. This is one of the rooms I trained them in.” He explained to her, motioning to the walls of different weapons and the nicked and scarred training dummies pushed into one corner.

“So, you spend hours in here, wielding various weapons, beating on whatever and whoever.” Skye summed up, getting his point.

“Have you ever wielded a sword or weapon?” Vesemir asked, sizing her up.

“I know how to use a scythe, when my mother and I had to bring in the harvest at my family farm.” Skye replied, pressing her lips together. “If that counts for anything.”

“Well, you can kill someone with one of them. So, I'll give you points for that.” He chuckled, smiling at her. “Here,” Vesemir turned, walking up to one of the walls of weapons and took down a short sword, bringing it back to her.

“Try this.” He held it out to her, handle first.

Skye hesitated for a moment, but after an encouraging nod from him, she wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword. It was heavy in her hand, but not too heavy that she couldn't hold it up and wield it with two hands. She looked at Vesemir and lifted a brow at him, waiting for what was next, and blinked, startled, when he raised his own sword.

“Are we going to fight?” She asked, worried.

“Yes.” He nodded, smirking at her. “I'll be gentle with you.” He promised, gold eyes dancing with amusement. “Hold your sword like this.” He instructed her, showing her how to properly hold it.

“Good, very good.” He praised her, nodding his head.

Vesemir gave Skye play by play instructions, moving back and forward with her, their blades barely touching, as he taught her how to block certain blows, to protect her weak points and push him back. He was surprised to find she seemed very natural with a blade, she was an impressively quick learner as well. It also felt good to have someone other than Geralt, Eskel and Lambert to square off with, though Vesemir was considerably more mindful and held back with Skye, knowing he could easily overtake and harm her, if he wasn't careful.

“That was fun.” Skye smiled, wiping the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her shirt.

“You're a quick learner.” Vesemir complimenting her and nodding his head, impressed. “You'll overtake this poor old man in no time.” He joked, laughing, and dropped down onto a bench against the wall.

“Not a chance.” She laughed back, sitting beside him. “What was Geralt like, when he started training?” She asked, curiously.

Vesemir sighed and rubbed the side of his wrinkled face. “A handful.” He huffed, smiling. “He liked to get into a lot of mischief, him and Eskel, for that matter. They're close in age, and Eskel arrived only a few months before Geralt did, so they bonded that way.” He said, his eyes losing a bit of their focus as he recounted it.

“One of his first lessons, he nearly lopped all his toes off, dropping his sword after I disarmed him.”

Skye laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the stone room. “I can only imagine the anger he must have felt.”

“Actually,” Vesemir frowned, bushy brows knitting together. “It was quite the opposite. He broke out into tears.”

“Geralt?” She frowned back at him, it was hard to picture Geralt crying, for any reason.

“The same.” He nodded at her, meeting her eyes. “It's hard to tell, with the guard and walls, he's put up over the decades. He's had to put them up. But, Geralt is a good man, with an even better heart. If anyone is so lucky to see and touch it.” He told her, softly, with a tone that Skye felt in her own heart.

The vision Skye had of Geralt, formed when they first met and from what her mother had told her about what he had done in Blaviken, slowly started to shift, as Skye got to know Geralt more, as she encountered people that knew the Witcher almost better than Geralt knew himself.

The illusion of the Butcher of Blaviken, was just that, an illusion, that melted away after he told her about what had actually happened. How he had tried his best to stay out of it. But, pressing factors forced his hand, forcing him to make a choice to kill someone that wasn't all that different from himself, seen as a monster and a black spot on the Continent, someone that Geralt had grown to love. It showed Skye that he wasn't entirely the emotionless creature Witchers were made out to be. He showed her that, when he had gone out of his way to give her a birthday present, simply because he knew that's what people did for someone's birthday, because he had been affected by her sadness and wanted to give her something that would cheer her up; unconscionably touching the bracelet on her wrist.

She was starting to realize, as she walked the halls of Kaer Morhen and spoke to Vesemir, that Geralt also understood what it was like to be ripped away from family, to be forced into a situation with strange people, you didn't want to be with, but had no voice in the matter to change it. Geralt wasn't a Butcher, or a monster, or even a mutant, he was a man, changed by the force of others and circumstance. Kaer Morhen had taught him how to be physically strong and how to survive against monsters, then thrust him out into the world, with no safety net, when the human monsters attacked his emotions and tore down his thoughts. Geralt had to teach himself how to build those walls, how to survive those attacks, that his armor and potions couldn't. The result was a man everyone saw as an abomination, so hardened by the years of abuse, it was all he'd ever let anyone see.

Unless, as Vesemir put it, someone was so lucky to see and touch it.

“What are you two doing in here?” Eskel's voice rasped as he appeared in the doorway.

“I was teaching the girl how to wield a sword.” Vesemir replied, looking up at the young Witcher.

Eskel let out a barking laugh. “Do you still have all your fingers and toes?” He asked Skye with a smirk.

“Last I checked.” Skye replied, smirking back at him.

“I like you.” Eskel chuckled, nodding his head at her.

Pretty soon, Skye picked up a routine in Kaer Morhen.

She would get up just after sunrise in the mornings and go down to the kitchens and whip up some breakfast for herself and the three Witchers. She had made them breakfast on her third day there and the boys, namely Eskel, raved about it for the rest of the day. So, she picked up the chore of making them breakfast and dinner, letting them fend for themselves when it came to lunch. After that, she would go up to the training room with Vesemir to do some swordplay and instructions. Where she was getting increasingly better at wielding the weapon, finding her own style, blows and blocks becoming more and more like second nature, and moving quicker, managing to best Vesemir once in a while.

It was one afternoon about a month after she and Geralt arrived, and after her session with Vesemir, that Eskel appeared in the training room and asked Skye, if she would like to take a walk with him around the grounds of Kaer Morhen, seeing that a decent amount of the snow had melted away, making it easier to navigate.

“Sure.” Skye smiled, nodding her head and putting her sword back in its place. “Would you give me a moment to get my cloak?” She asked him.

“Of course, I would loath for you to catch a chill.” He nodded, smiling at her. “I'll meet you by the Keep door.” He said and gave her a low bow.

Skye chuckled at him, shaking her head, then went up to her room and grabbed her cloak, flinging it around her shoulders and clasping it closed, then met Eskel by the main door of the Keep. Smiling at her, Eskel opened the door for her, politely allowing her to step out ahead of him, bowing his head in a gentlemanly gesture.

“How are you liking Kaer Morhen, Skye?” He asked as they started walking around.

“I'm finding it a great deal more comfortable than I thought it would be.” She replied, looking up at the crumbling towers. “I thought for sure, I'd find evil and brain addled monsters.”

Eskel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Well, you have one out of three right, we do tend to be addled.” He joked, spiritedly.

“Vesemir said, you and Geralt would always get into mischief.” Skye pointed out and looked up at him, curiously.

“Gods, yes!” He laughed again, shaking his head at all the antics he and Geralt had gotten into over the years. “You see that tower, over there?” He asked, pointing out a tower that was still mostly standing compared to the others. “We once stole another Witcher, Aubry, from his bed in the middle of the night, took him to the top of the tower, tied a rope around his ankles and dangled him out the window that used to be at the top of it.”

“Oh gods.” Skye laughed, grinning, as she pictured the poor Witcher hanging upside down from the window.

“He woke up and started shouting and curses, waking the entire place.” Eskel explained, still looking so proud of himself. “Geralt and I got our as—butts.” He quickly corrected himself. “kicked for it. It took a week for both of us to sit down again.” He reminisced, fondly. “Geralt and I also captured a giant forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug, when Vesemir found us rolling the grass, in a fit of laughter, he gave us a good row with a leather strap.”

“You two sound like complete trouble makers.” Skye chuckled, imagining Geralt dangling a fellow Witcher out a window, or laughing in the tall grass that covered the grounds of Kaer Morhen, only to get thrashed with a belt, it made her smirk.

“Still are to a fair point.” Eskel replied, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Oh, Geralt!” He smiled, as Geralt came in through the gate, leading Roach, who was carrying a large buck across her back. “Is that dinner?” He asked, nodding at the large animal.

“It is.” Geralt replied, looking between Skye and Eskel, their faces red and eyes damp from laughing. “What are the pair of you doing out here?” He asked, lifting a brow at them.

“I was giving Skye a tour of the grounds.” Eskel said, smiling at her. “Being you haven't yet.”

“Hm.” Geralt huffed, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest.

“Would you like help with the deer?” Skye asked him.

“No, I can manage.” He replied, shaking his head at her. “I wouldn't want to interrupt your and Eskel's walk.” He said, leading Roach away and back towards the keep.

“He's broody today.” She commented, watching him go.

“No more than usual.” Eskel told her, then turned and showed her the rest of the grounds.

“You're jealous.” Vesemir said, stepping into the kitchen, where Geralt was butchering the buck.

“No, I'm not.” Geralt grunted, glaring at the carcass on the table.

“Oh yes, you are.” the older Witcher chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I've seen how you act when Skye and Eskel are together. Brooding, grumpy and standoffish.” He pointed out to his former pupil.

“Classic jealousy.”

“I'm not jealous of Eskel.” He repeated, angrily skinning the deer.

“Geralt.” Vesemir sighed, lifting a brow at him.

Growling, Geralt forcefully stabbed his bloody knife into the table and turned to Vesemir. “All right, fine. I am jealous of Eskel.” He admitted, begrudgingly. “She laughs at his stupid fucking jokes, she smiles at him, a lot. She hardly ever does those things when it's me.” His angered expression fell with his shoulders.

“She even gave him a hug the other day.” He mumbled under his breath.

“You don't exactly open up to her, like Eskel does, Geralt.” Vesemir was honest with the white-haired Witcher. “You barely utter a word to her, so how is she to laugh at something funny you said, if you never say it to begin with.”

Geralt grumbled at Vesemir, scowling, the closest thing to pouting he'd ever do.

“As for smiling, apparently, you don't look at the girl too often, do you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That girl is, damn near, always smiling at you, Geralt. Especially, when she thinks you, or anyone else, isn't looking at her to see it.” Vesemir confessed, he'd caught Skye smiling at Geralt's back and several times, blatantly to his face, many times over the weeks.

Geralt gulped at Vesemir, had he been so blinded by his own jealousy, that he missed Skye smiling at him. Yes, he had been. Every time Skye laughed at one of Eskel's jokes or smiled at him, when he entered a room, or hugged him for some reason, Geralt would abruptly get up and leave the area. Needing to get away from them, before he ended up putting his fist through Eskel's face, for being so brass with her.

“I know, you're afraid of hurting her, like you hurt that Princess.” Vesemir said, slowly. “But, if you're not careful, Geralt, you'll end up hurting her anyway.” He told him, before leaving Geralt to finish the deer.

Geralt sighed, leaning on his hands against the table the deer laid half butchered on, head hanging and eyes squeezed shut, trying to get a handle on himself, to pull himself together, away from the jealousy and the growing fear that he'd fallen in love with Skye.

“Hey, Geralt!” Eskel called out, seeing Geralt making his way up to his room.

“Eskel?” He replied, lifting a brow at him.

“Have you seen Skye sword fight?” Eskel asked, motioning to the training room Skye and Vesemir were sparring in.

“No.” Geralt shook his head, chewing the inside of his lip, he had heard about Vesemir giving Skye sword lessons and that she was apparently very good at it, but hadn't gone to see for himself.

“Come on, check her out.” Eskel tried coaxing him. “She nearly took Vesemir's head off a second ago.” He laughed, grinning.

Feeling the root of his jealousy wiggle its way deeper, Geralt turned and approached the training room, standing in the doorway with Eskel. Looking into the room, he saw Vesemir and Skye in the center of the room, swords raised and trained on the other as they slowly circled each other, sizing the other up and waiting to see who made the first move towards the other one. He noticed Skye was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a black shirt, the long sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It was her that made the first move, going for Vesemir's unprotected left side, nearly getting the blow in, before he twisted and blocked her blade, rotated his wrist and flicked her sword away from him. Geralt leaned his shoulder against the door frame, crossing his arms over his broad chest and watched Skye move and fight Vesemir, a soft smile on his lips.

Skye and Vesemir sparred for several minutes, before Vesemir was able to break through her blocks and smack the side of her thigh with the flat of his blade. Chuckling, they moved apart and smiled at each other, then looked to the door as Eskel clapped, making Geralt roll his eyes at him, but he smiled at Skye, feeling quiver in his stomach as she smiled back at him.

“I bet I can do a better job than Vesemir.” Eskel suddenly announced.

“I doubt it.” Skye retorted, giving him a smug lift of her brow.

“Oh yeah, you wanna put your money where your mouth is.” He quipped, moving into the room.

“I don't have any money, but I'm all right taking yours.” She told him with a wink.

“It's so on!” Eskel laughed, picking up a sword off the rack.

Snorting, Skye raised her sword, like she'd been taught all those weeks before and slowly started circling with Eskel, who was making stupid faces at her, trying to distract her and making her laugh, so he could slip her up. Vesemir moved to stand beside Geralt at the door, one eye on Skye and Eskel with the other eye on Geralt, whose body was unusually tense, watching Skye spar back and forth with the other Witcher.

“Upset it isn't you, she's sparring?” He asked Geralt, quietly.

“No.” He rasped back. “I'm worried he'll hurt her.” He confessed, his enhanced eyes watching every move the two made.

Skye suddenly pushed forward and flicked her blade at Eskel's, managing to send his blade clattering across the stone floor, too far out of reach for him to recover it. Vesemir and Geralt smirked, impressed and amused she'd managed it, Eskel didn't seem so happy about it, his temper suddenly spiking. Geralt tensed, seeing it and straightened up.

“No!” He barked, alarmed as Eskel threw out his three fingers for an Aard, in his frustration.

Geralt's eyes were wide with alarm, golden orbs darting between Skye and Eskel, before he rushed towards Skye, trying to reach her before the blast of the Sign could harmed her. Skye gasped and threw up her arms, her wrists crossing, just as the blast of Eskel's Aard reached her. Geralt slid to a stop, mouth dropping open as the shockwave was deflected off of Skye's crossed arms, only pushing her back a little bit, and other than that, she was unharmed. The mouths of all three Witchers were on the floor, when they realized what she had just pulled off.

“She just Signed a Heliotrop!” Eskel snapped, in surprise, his anger forgotten. “How the hell did she just Sign a Heliotrop!?”

“How?” Geralt whispered and looked Skye over, then met her eyes, still shocked and concerned.

“I don't even know, what a Heliotrop is...” Skye replied, looking back at him, startled.

“It's the thing you just did, by crossing your arms.” Eskel said, shaking his head at her.

“It's what I suspected.” Vesemir spoke up, pulling his jaw up off the floor.

“Suspected what?” Geralt snapped, looking over at him.

“She has Elven blood.”

“That's not possible.” Skye shook her head at him. “My mother hates Elves and my father is assuredly not one either.”

“You could be Quarter-Elf.” Vesemir pointed out.

Vesemir had a strange inkling that Skye wasn't completely Human, he just wasn't sure if it was Elven blood or a Mutation. But, after seeing her use a Heliotrop with such ease and effectiveness, especially being she'd never done one before, was aware she could do one or even knew how to do it, told the old Witcher what he needed to know. Only someone with some measure of Elven blood would have been able to pull off what Skye had just done.

“Quarter-Elves, and even some Half-Elves are capable of passing themselves off as normal, everyday Humans. So, you're at least Quarter-Elf.” He explained to her.

Skye looked between the three of them, a tremble making her lithe body vibrate. Tears sprang up in her minty-green eyes and her bottom lip wobbled, before she burst out of the room and blindly ran down the hall, needing to get away, far away.

Geralt turned on Eskel, jaw tight and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, before driving his fist into the other Witcher's stomach, as hard as he could, sending Eskel stumbling backwards into a wall of axes and maces. Eskel took several wheezy breaths, before he was able to speak again.

“Wh-wh-what wa-as th-that for!?” He demanded, arm pressed against his throbbing abdomen.

“For nearly killing her with your Aard!” Geralt hissed, starting towards him again, but was stopped by Vesemir's hand on his chest.

“She blocked it!”

“You didn't know she could block it, and you still fucking did it!” He growled low in his throat, before pushing away from Vesemir and going after her.

Geralt went to her room first, but found it empty, and started searching the rest of the Keep, before venturing outside to the grounds. He searched almost all of the crumbling towers and out buildings before he found her. He stopped in the doorway of the stables, smiling softly as she pet Roach in her stall.

“She's always great company, when you're feeling down.” He said softly, not wishing to startle her. “Especially, since she doesn't tend to talk back.” He added, with a quiet chuckle.

“What do you want?” Skye sniffled, wiping her hot and wet cheek on the shoulder of her shirt.

Geralt sighed softly, pushing off the frame of the door and approached her, gently resting his hand on Roach's nose, smiling at the mare's greeting neigh. “I came to see if you were all right.” He told her, petting Roach.

Taking a deep breath, Skye let it out with a sigh, she didn't know if she was all right. She was confused and scared, and angry. How could she have Elven blood in her, wouldn't she have known by now. Wouldn't her mother have told her that she did. Did her mother even know that she had Elven blood. Was it her mother that had the Elven blood or was it her father that did. She had so many questions.

“I don't understand.” She sniffled, pressing her lips together. “How can you have Elven blood, of any amount, and not know?” She asked and looked up at Geralt, like he had the answer.

Geralt wished he did have the answer for her, but he didn't.

“I don't know.” He replied instead. “With the persecution of Elves after the uprising, people became loath to admit they were the offspring of Elves. Afraid of what it would mean if people did find out.”

“Great, what's that make me?” She huffed, more to herself than Geralt, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks.

Biting his lip, Geralt reached out and rested his hand on her elbow, gently squeezing it. “It makes you, who you've always been, Skye.” He told her, with a soft sincerity. “Just because you have Elven blood, doesn't mean you're something else, other than yourself.”

“Don't let anyone, ever, tell or convince you otherwise.” He added, giving her arm another squeeze and gently pulled her in against him, carefully folding her into his arms.

Skye paused for a moment, surprised by Geralt's words and gesture, but lightly wrapped her arms around his waist, her forehead resting against his chest as they embraced. Both of them relaxed, Geralt gently tipping his head down to nose her hair, taking in the light scent of the soap she used to wash it, the pleasing warmth of her body resting against his. Skye took a deep breath, taking in the scent of Geralt's warm body, a faint trace of leather from his armor, the tang of Roach, a sweet, woody and smoky aroma from the burning wood fire in his room, and something else, beneath all of it, that was uniquely Geralt.

She found it alluring and comforting all at the same time.

“I promised to take you home.” Geralt whispered into her hair, not ready to pull away from her just yet. “We'll go back, after the first thaw, and get the answers you want and need.” He promised her, hugging his arms around her a little bit more as he felt her shiver.

“I'd like that.” Skye whispered back, softly, resting her cheek against Geralt's chest and closed her eyes.

“Good.” He smiled, and felt the germinating seed in his belly take a firm hold of him and grow a little bit more, into a delicate sprout. “Come, let's get you back inside, before you get ill.” He told her, slowly releasing her from his arms. “I'll even help you make dinner.” He smirked, slyly.

“That'll be the day.” She chuckled, teasingly.

“Hey, I did kill the buck you're using for dinner tonight.” He replied, lowering his head and lifting a brow at her, teasing her back.

“Oh, yes. I can see it going to your head now.” She rolled her eyes, playfully, at him. “Come along, Geralt, before your head gets any bigger and you can't get it through the doorways.” She called over her shoulder, heading out of the stables and back inside the Keep.

Geralt stood there a moment, smiling after her, and suddenly felt a profound happiness creep into him. He snapped out of it though, when Skye stopped and turned around to him, realizing he wasn't following her. He chuckled to himself and started forward to join her, feeling like nothing could ruin what was starting to really bud between them.

-- Chapter IV --

[your-daily-dose-of-fandoms]

Hi! ;---; So i Had this in mind. Could i get a zenitsu or inosuke reacting to reader about to commit suicide? Yes yes i read the rules ;w; if it is seriously uncomfortable for you to write this and its Alright! Could u write zenitsu or inosuke hearing about the readers self hate? Im requesting this because I have a serious low self esteem at school and I just want to hear sum live from these boys! ^^;; Thanks if you do dis one!

I really hope you'll get better, and always remember that you can seek for help. You're very dear to me, even after the short time we've known after you sent me this request! So please, take care of yourself, I hope you enjoy💙🌌

ALSO WARNING, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AHEAD

Zenitsu

Talk to me

"Y/N-chan.. did what?" Zenitsu uttered out, in complete disbelief, as he looked at Shinobu, who had come to told him the news. Zenitsu could feel his heart sink, as he had to take a step back to balance himself, as the news washed over him like a giant wave, leaving him speechless. He felt a relief of the fact that you were still alive, but other than that, he was devasted. Broken. Left in pieces for himself to collect back into one again.

"She.. She got her hands on some Aconite.. I don't know where she got it from, but I was able to recognize the symptoms before it got too bad", Shinobu, being shocked as well but maintaining her calm facade, repeated, as she ran a hand through her hair. It had been a long night.

"I thought you would like to know.. She is currently asleep in her room..", Shinobu said, having hard time to keep her voice above whisper, as Zenitsu could feel his heart sink by every word that Shinobu said. His chest felt heavy, tears starting to prickle in the corners of his eyes, as the thoughts that ran through his head in a competition no one could win, were too hard to grab on. He was sad, angry, frustrated, and mostly, confused, and his raging and twirling emotions felt so strong compared to the calm night air around him, as the dusk still settled as if nothing had happened.

Forcing himself to do something, he gave a nod to Shinobu, as he started to walk towards to your room with almost as heavy legs as his heart. He felt the tears flow down his cheeks, down to the chin, as they dropped onto the wooden floor quietly. He wanted to wipe them away, stop crying, be glad that you were still alive, and that he had been given a second chance to make things right. But at the same time, he wanted to cry, scream until his throat would hurt, fall onto his knees and never stand up.

He just wanted to know why.

Why would you want to die?

Why would you want to leave him behind?

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of your room, his hands shaking, as he felt like time went on slowmotion. He leant his forehead on the door, taking a deep shaky breath and closing his eyes, as he then proceeded to open the door.

There you were.

Laying in the bed, your face pale, as you were taking steady inhales, your face soft and calm, not showing any kind of sorrow. Not even a single sign of sadness. No matter how well Zenitsu looked. It had always been like this, as you were his sun, not showing your weaknesses even when you started to crumble. Zenitsu could just wonder, how long had you been battling with this? How long did you have to be alone? How long did it go unnoticed by him?

He made it next to your bed, his knees giving up underneath him, as he fell on the floor with a loud thud. He framed your face, ghosting over it with his hands, not daring to touch as if you were made of fragile glass, as his lower lip started to tremble, tears clouding his vision over again.

He let out his sorrows, not caring if he was a messy crier, letting his grief pour out of him with ugly sobs between his lips. The tears dropped onto his lap, making his suit a canvas for grief and agony. He let himself fall into a disheleved heap, leaning onto your bed, as he was between his sobs whispering out the word: 'why', over and over again. He was heartbroken, devasted, in pieces. He was a mess.

"Zenitsu..? Is it you..? Why are you crying, my love?" He suddenly heard your voice, like a salvation, ring in his ears, as he looked up from his mess at you, as you were now leaning onto your arm, looking down at Zenitsu with a worry. He saw you carefully sit up, as you opened your arms, asking him in a hug. He weakly rose up, almost falling into your arms, as you enveloped him into your embrace.

"Now.. Tell me.. Why are you crying?" You asked, and Zenitsu turned to look up at you with tears running down to his cheeks, his eyes looking as hurt and broken as your soul. Your heart ached in confusion.

"Why..?" He just whispered out, his ugly sobs calming down into loud sniffles, as he felt you stiffen underneath him. He looked up at you, and he saw how the color had drained off from your face, as you were staring into nothing, almost as if having flashbacks run in front of your eyes.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?" He asked, his voice cracking, as he flinched at his own words. He saw how you were taken back from your trance, as if realizing what had happened, looking at him with eyes that he had not seen before. He was not looking at you that he knew. He was looking at new side of you, your eyes looking so lonely and hurt, that it made his breath hitch. How had he not seen this side of you before?

You looked away, feeling the tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, as you took a deep inhale, trying to calm yourself down. You felt your chest get heavier, as it was getting harder to breath, as you looked around manically, trying to search for some escape from this situation. But you knew you could not do that. He deserved an explanation. Had deserved a long time ago.

"I.. Everything feels so hopeless.. and dull..", You started, and you felt Zenitsu grabbing your hand and drawing circles on it with his thumb. Knowing that he was there for you, made it easier to continue.

"At first.. I was just sad.. I cried a lot, but then.. I couldn't even cry anymore, as I felt like I had no reason to even get out of the bed", You continued, and you could feel Zenitsu flinch, as he realized all the mornings when he had to come wake you up, as you had slept in.

"It was so overwhelming. The fact that suddenly, I couldn't enjoy the things I usually would anymore. I couldn't see the colors so vivid anymore, and hell, even the food tasted the same. Like mashed potatoes", You continued, your pace fastening, as you could feel the hot tears starting to flow on your cheeks again. You couldn't take it anymore, your heart longing for someone to lean on, someone to trust your life with, someone to understand.

"And then.. Something snapped inside my head.. I felt like.. I didn't want to try anymore, there was no point to, as it would never get any better", You would have continued, but you had broken into ugly sobs, finally letting it all out, as you leant on Zenitsu, who was crying too.

There you were, in each other's embraces, under the safe wings of dark, as you let your heart's content out, Zenitsu crying along with you broken heart. After a while, you had your head buried in Zenitsu's chest, as he had you in his tight embrace, you letting out silent sniffles into the quiet night.

"Y/N, I love you", Zenitsu started, framing your face to look at you with his his swollen eyes.

"And if anything ever happened to you, I would not know what to do", He continued, wiping away some of the tears on you cheeks with his thumbs, as he then gulped.

"So please, please talk to me from now on. Maybe I will not understand but", he went on, pressing your foreheads together.

"I'll always do my best to make you feel better. No matter the cost", He finished, bringing you into a sweet kiss, which you responded to, feeling glad that finally, there was someone who you could trust your life with.

Inosuke

Not Alone

"Why would she do that?!" Inosuke yelled out, his worry coming out as an angry tone, as he grabbed Shinobu by her shoulders and shook her, wanting answers. There was no way you would just jump off a cliff like that. Why would you do that?

Shinobu placed her hands on Inosuke's, as she looked at him with sad eyes. Inosuke recognized that look, he knew she was pitying him, and he hated it. Inosuked let out a loud growl, ripping his hands off from her shoulders, as she shot her a glare, for once being sad of the fact that she couldn't see it from under his masks.

"Inosuke.. She tried to kill herself", Shinobu, flinching at her own words, told to the boar masked boy, and watched him to freeze. Inosuke did not know what to say. For once in his life, he was speechless, as he felt the blood drain out of his face and breath hitch. Countless of questions ran through his head, driving him crazy, as he felt like his mind was ripping him apart. Shinobu was carefully observing his reaction, waiting for him to do or say something, almost as if he was a ticking bomb.

"Where is she?" Inosuke forced the words out of his throat, his mouth feeling dry, as he was clenching his fists, not noticing his nails digging into his skin and making it bleed. All he was focused on, was finding you. Shinobu sighed, running a hand through her hair, dark circles under her eyes, as she pointed at direction of the infirmary.

"She's at the infirmary, currently asleep, as Aoi is keeping a watch", Shinobu told, and before she could even finish, Inosuke had sprunt towards the direction of the infirmary, his bare feet pounding against the wooden floor to the rhythm of his heartbeat, as he was sprinting in the hallways, you being the only goal in his mind. It became hard to breath with his mask on, his breath halting, as he proceeded to rip off his mask, and throw it somewhere in the way, not caring of he accidentally broke it in the process.

He grit his teeth, the questions pounding inside his mind like wild horses, as he wanted to yell them to go away. He did not like it. The feeling of being helpless, lost, and broken, he did not know what to do. You were his love, mate for life, and he was supposed to protect you. But he had no idea how to do that, when the one he was supposed to protect you from was yourself. He did not know why would you do that? Have you been sad? For how long? Why hadn't he noticed?

All these questions running through his head, he slammed the door to the infirmary open, as his eyes landed on you.

You were sleeping peacefully, no signs of worries or sorrows on your face, as you looked peaceful and happy. Your right leg was wrapped into a tight bandage, as Aoi was sitting next to you, changing the rag on your forehead to a new one. Aoi noticed Inosuke, and Inosuke noticed her, and for a moment, their eyes locked. Aoi must have seen the desperation, mixed with confusion, twirl of raging emotions in his eyes, as she just nodded at Inosuke, standing up and hesitantly giving him a pat or reassurance on his shoulder, as she walked past him out of the infirmary, closing the door.

Now it was just the two of you, as Inosuke was standing still, all of his intentions and questions vanishing his mind as he saw you in that condition. His heart broke with every breath he took, and he did not know that something could hurt this much. Like thousand knives in his heart. Suddenly, your eyes fluttered open, as your eyes slowly adjusted to the light, your gaze landing on Inosuke, who was standing, not moving an inch.

"Insouke..?" You asked, as you did not get any reaction from him, you furrowed your eyebrows in worry. You felt alarmed.

"Are you.. crying?" He heard you ask, and only now did he notice the trail of hot tears running down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes. He blinked few times, confused as to why was he crying, as you then tried to stand up, only being welcomed by screaming pain in your leg. You shouted out in surprise and pain, as it was throbbing through your veins, making your head feel dizzy, as only the scream of pain by you was able to get Inosuke out of his trance. He ran to you, making his way to your side quickly, as he put you back to your bed, with rough, but still gentle hands.

He saw your face. It was almost like all the blood had drained off from it, as the tears were running down your cheeks, your hand slowly raising up to touch the hot tears, as if being surprised that you were crying.

"I remember..", You softly whispered, your voice as light as your breath, as to Inosuke, it sounded like your voice would break down at any given moment, like fragile glass.

"Why..?" Inosuke started, blinking rapdily to stop the stream of tears as well, but he wasn't able to, as the tears just kept coming. He grabbed your hand and sniffled.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, and you looked away in shame.

"You wouldn't understand..", You whispered and Inosuke's grip on your hand tightened.

"God dammit, just spit it out already!!" He yelled, his voice sounding more harsh than he meant it to be, as he bit on his tongue. You flinched at his words, and he hated to see you like that. However, he continued.

"Just.. Just please, tell me.. I don't know what would I do without you..", He demanded, his voice turning into a silent plea as he swallowed the last bits of his pride. He heard you gasp softly and he raised his gaze to see you looking at him with wide eyes. At the moment he looked at you, you broke the eye contact, looking away, as you began to speak.

"I'm just.. I'm just so sorry I-", You began, you sobs making it hard to speak, as you were crying and talking at the same time.

"I don't know. I don't know what came over me..!", You almost yelled at this point, gripping onto Inosuke's hands like they were your last string to life.

"I mean, I was sad before. At times, the thoughts came, but I always pushed them away, thinking it would help. I didn't think it'd never become this bad!" You shouted out, as talking was becoming harder and harded for you, as well as breathing, as the hiccups and sobs made it hard for you to let the words come out. At this point, Inosuke's hands were probably turning white, as he had been silent for this whole time.

He had never been good with words.

Instead of saying anything, he hugged you, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb, saying nothing. You felt teardrops on your head, as he was quietly letting out his sorrow, as you were screaming and crying into his chest, finally letting it all out. He let you, keeping you in his embrace for the whole time, as in the end, you felt breathless.

When Inosuke was sure you had calmed down, he kissed your forehead, and looked into your eyes.

"Y/N.. I'm not good with words and you know it but.." He interrupted himself, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, sending you a soft, yet sad smile.

"I'll be here with you, no matter what. You're not alone with this", He told, and you smiled at him, hugging him. You knew you could trust him, and that in his hands, you would be safe. Even from yourself. You wanted to start taking the steps towards the better life, because he was with you.

"Thank you..", You whispered into his chest, but he heard it, as he wrapped his arms around you too.

"I love you Y/N.."

[thewhumperinwhite]

ATTD: The Demon in Atychia Town

Previous: Intro 1 // Intro 2 // Intro 3

This is long but I couldn’t find a very natural place to split it, so. It’s staying one piece.

Pray for Jasper everyone lmao

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

TW for: starvation/aftermath of starvation; alcohol use/drunkenness; people are threatened and shot at with a crossbow; nonhuman whumpee with captivity and wing whump; dehumanization and “it” language for a sapient, nonhuman creature. Also Will is doing some wild, like, masking here and I’m not sure how to warn for that exactly.

----

The boy called Will, apparently skeleton and little else, weighed only very slightly more than Jasper’s pack, and carrying him would have been no burden at all if not for the desperate litany of apologies he muttered directly into Jasper’s ear for the entire journey back to town.

Then Jasper saw what was sitting in the center of Atychia Town. It had not been there when he had left, and it shouldn’t have been there now.

He dropped the boy onto his unsteady feet then and there, beside the wellhouse, barely waiting to see that the boy stayed upright, because there was no room for anything in his head other than this: to go to the only building in town likely to have people in it at this hour, and find out who among them had chained up a demon in the town square.

----

There was a stain on the thickly-varnished wood of the table in the front righthand corner of the Sheep’s Eye Inn and Tavern. It was dark red, and enough like wine for plausible deniability, and it did not seem to be coming out, no matter how hard Lia scrubbed at it.

Jasper Run, the Magician, could have magicked it out easily enough, Lia thought, scrubbing savagely. If he was interested in using his magic for anything useful. Not that she would have asked him to start with scrubbing her tables. You could do all sorts of things with magic, in minutes, that would take the people of Atychia months and years to do otherwise. Deepen wells, for instance. Trick crops into growing thicker and healthier. Make rain.

Alright, Lia thought, her hands drawing into fists around her cleaning rag. That last was maybe better left to a Sorcerer than a Magician. But still. He hadn’t even fixed the temple roof, and any third-rate conjurer could do that.

Harsh, ugly laughter erupted from the big table in the center of the bar area, where her employer and his horrible friends were drinking themselves into a violent stupor. Lia’s shoulders tightened and she scrubbed at the stain even harder, because what she wanted to do was break things, and that might make her finally lose her job.

“Oy, Lass! Another round for my boys, here!” Old Meyr called in a heavily slurred voice.

Lia tried to remind herself why she wanted to keep this job so bad, anyway.

Straightening, Lia plastered on a smile that felt two sizes too tight and went over to see what the idiots wanted.

“I wonder what the reward will be, when we get down to Archae,” the youngest of Meyr’s little friends was saying excitedly, leaned across the table with a hazy grin on his face and a mostly-empty bottle clutched in his fist.

“If we get down to Archae,” the oldest of the group said dourly, earning a pout from his junior. “We’ve a long ways to go yet, lad, and I wouldn’t take a week in the Waste lightly—not with a monster like that in tow.”

Lia, eavesdropping a little now, shuddered at the thought of that, and inadvertently caught her employer’s eye. He was too deep in his cups to notice she’d been listening, so that was alright—though to be honest, part of her wanted him to shout at her, so she would have an excuse to shout back. “Ah, there y’are, lass,” he hiccupped, giving her an off-kilter grin. “More’a the same, for us all!” He waved his empty mug at her, and did not seem to notice her answering scowl.

“Sir,” she agreed shortly, and stalked back to the bar to get more ale.

The youngest man—at least six years Lia’s junior—gave her a wide, intoxicated leer when she came back with the drinks. “G’mornin’, Missy Lia!” he said, a little to loudly. Lia twitched very slightly. She had no idea what this boy’s name might be, but she did know this gutless pip had no business calling her “Missy.” She decided to leave his ale for last. He did not notice. He giggled at her, instead, though it turned into a hiccup at the end. “Did you see what we found in the—oof!”

Lia wondered if she was supposed to pretend she hadn’t seen the elbow that the oldest man had planted in the younger one’s ribs.

“Thanks for the service, Barmaid Lia,” the old man said, his voice polite and also definitely a dismissal. This time, Lia thought any sober man would probably have seen her answering twitch. “We hope you’ll excuse the boy,” he went on, sending his junior a furious look. “When Young Kalen opens his mouth, all his guts fall out. He didn’t say nothin’ as ought to concern you, Missy.”

Lia set the old man’s drink down in front of him, and happened to tread hard on his foot under the table in the process. He loud squawk the old man made startled another member of the party—by far the largest, though more about the middle than the muscles—out of an impromptu nap on the edge of the table. Old Meyr leaned forward, squinting at her, as though to decide whether she ought to be disciplined.

“How clumsy of me,” Lia said sweetly. Meyr hiccuped. So her employer’s terrible tolerance seemed to save her job again, for better or worse.

Lia rolled her shoulders, and reminded herself that it was more or less this or starving, in Atychia Town.

Still. If any member of this party called her Barmaid again—honestly. It was bad enough when Jasper Run did it, but at least he had a nice—

It was as Lia was finishing this thought that the front door flew open and Jasper Run stormed through it.

----

The door to the Sheep’s Eye was lighter than he remembered, and slammed very loudly against a poorly-placed booth with a loud crack that sounded like it might be permanent.

Jasper found that he did not much care.

Old Meyr, who owned the inn—not, Jasper thought furiously, that he actually had any hand in running the place, these days, that was all Lia, and it should have been her place really—was seated at the center table, a beer clutched at the end of one spindly arm, and the other waving vaguely in the air. From the door, all Jasper could see was his bent, spidery back, and the old man didn’t turn, not at Jasper’s not-very-subtle entrance, and not at the sound of his boots pounding on the floor, either.

“Magician,” Will Price said in a faint, wispy voice from behind him, and held out his thin hand, awkwardly; like he wanted to tug at Jasper’s sleeve, but was afraid to actually touch him. Probably that bore further examination, but for now it also made him very easy to ignore.

“I would like to know,” Jasper said in a thunderous voice, “what exactly is going on in the Square today.”

Atychia was barely a town, and its residents called the dusty cobblestone rectancle between the Sheep’s Eye and the wellhouse the Town Square with a hint of despairing irony. On an ordinary day the Square held occasional stalls run by especially intrepid or lost merchants, some lines of drying laundry, and very little else.

Today, there was a cage in the middle of the square.

It was hard to keep anything clean so close to the Waste. The interior of the cage was so clotted with dust, blood, hair, and feathers that it had been difficult to say, at first, what was huddled in the center of that vast construction of wire and wood. At first, Jasper had assumed the cage contained some sort of criminal, awaiting trial—it seemed a bit barbaric, to keep a man exposed to the wind and dust like that for any length of time, but Atychia was that sort of town. That was before he saw the wings, however.

After he saw the wings, Jasper hadn’t thought of anything at all.

Old Meyr, confronted with a very angry Magician of nearly twice his height and muscle mass, turned in his seat and blinked owlishly. “Eh?”

“The. Square,” Jasper said slowly, through his teeth.

Old Meyr blinked twice more, and then he raised himself up to his full spindly height and said haughtily, “’Tain’t none o’ yer thrice-damned business, Conjurer.”

It was remarkable how easy it was to pull the old man out of his chair.

His scarred palm wrapped around the back of the old man’s skinny neck, Jasper half-dragged the protesting Innkeeper toward the door, the red haze of anger quite thick enough to block out the utterly baffled look on Lia the Barmaid’s face and the uncomfortable (feverish) confusion on Will Price’s.

“Wha—Jasper?” Lia squeaked, hurrying to follow him.

“M-Magician—hey—!” Will Price wheezed, stumbling after her.

Jasper ignored them, and ignored Old Meyr too until he had dragged him out the door and into the square, and then he dropped the old man on his feet in front of the hulking iron frame.

Inside the cage, the demon shifted. A few blood-clotted feathers lifted in the breeze. Jasper caught one, and had time enough to glare at it and see that it seemed to be made of amber and sapphires before it turned to ash in his hands.

Jasper peered into the darkness within the cage, and a pair of golden eyes peered back for a moment. Then the demon threw her great tattered wings over her head, a mess of blood and fire-colored curls.

“What the hell have you done, old man?” Jasper croaked. The sight of the demon’s feather had knocked a good part of the anger out of him. He had been furious. He was now starting to be very slightly afraid.

Staring at the shape in the cage through an almost literal fog of alcohol, the old man swayed slightly, and then turned to glare petulantly up at Jasper.

“It’s mine,” he said, his voice slurred and also a touch defensive. “I found it.”

Jasper, unable to believe what he was hearing, stared at the old man. Old Meyr inched slowly back, away from the cage.

“Bullshit you did,” Jasper said flatly.

He started toward the cage door, Runes in hand, and then the sound of wood scraping against metal pulled him up short. The oldest—and, at the moment, soberest—member of Old Meyr’s party stood in the Inn’s doorway, an elderly but operational crossbow tucked against his broad right shoulder.

“I’d step away from yon caged birdie, an I were you, young Conjurer,” the old man said. His voice was measured, if a touch reluctant, and his fingers looked firm enough on the cross’s trigger. Though he was older than Meyr by ten summers easily, and might have seen seventy summers, he was much less twig-shaped than the Innkeeper, and closer to Jasper’s height, too. Jasper glared at him.

“Furl’n!” Meyr crowed, though the slur in his voice meant the actual pronunciation of his comrad’s name was anyone’s guess. “Bloody good timing, brother. Cap’tal!”

Jasper chose to ignore this. “’Caged birdie,’” he repeated savagely. “Have you idiots got any idea what it is you’ve caught, here?” He gestured wildly at the demon, who shivered, wing feathers rippling.

“’Course we have!” Meyr protested, affronted, and pulled a sheet of parchment from down the front of his grayed tunic.

“Meyr—” Furlan—Furlen? Furlyn?—growled warningly, but Jasper had already snatched the paper out of Meyr’s spindly fingers and held it easily out of the little man’s limited reach.

The emperor, the parchment proclaimed in large, elegant type—and Jasper was surprised to see ink this far into the Waste, let alone print—offers a generous reward for the successful capture of a flying devil carrying the pictured plumage.

Below this someone had painted a delicate wing-feather in shades of iridescent blue and gold, and an address had been noted, in Archae City, miles away across the Waste.

Jasper stared at the parchment. It could have been duplicated by magic, but not in color, on such high quality paper, that would have cost a fortune. No one near Atychia had that kind of money, or access to such specifically skilled labor.

“Well—now you see, young Conjurer,” Furlan-Furlen-Furlyn gumbled, shooting a glare towards Old Meyr, who didn’t seem to notice. “We’ll be takin’ yon birdie down t’Archae with us, when we go. Ye’ll understand—” and here he adjusted his grip on the cross-bow, so it was trained on the center of Jasper’s chest, and set his jaw a bit more firmly—“if we take unkindly to any meddling from you, sir.”

Jasper glanced back at the cage’s wrought-iron lock, and then forward at the crossbow’s iron-tipped bolt. His Runes were beginning to feel warm in his hand, though that may have been his own anger making heat rise in his blood.

It’d be tight, on the optimistic end. But if he could move fast enough—

“Really, boys,” Lia snapped, stepping between Jasper and the old man in a flurry of skirts and apron strings. “Really, now. You ought both to be ashamed of yourselves.”

Jasper blinked. The old man, in the doorway, seemed to do the same.

“Furlen Challis,” Lia scolded, raising a finger in the old man’s direction like an affronted schoolmistress. “You are on the doorstep of the Sheep’s Eye, sir, which puts you on an Inn’s property with a weapon drawn.” Tossing her heavy dark curls, Lia crossed her arms. “The Sheep’s Eye is no quester’s bar, for you to brawl in. Your manners appall me, Sai Challis.”

Furlen Challis’s crossbow lowered slightly, and he scrubbed at the back of his neck like a guilty schoolboy, averting his eyes.

“Eh—that’s so,” he allowed, sounding embarrassed. “Sorry for it, Barmaid, Marm.”

Lia twitched, and Jasper was afflicted with a bizarre desire to laugh, at least until she spun on her heel to land on him instead, dark eyes flashing with offended propriety.

“As for yourself, Jasper Run,” Lia said haughtily, crossing her arms, “I will not have you barging into my Inn—” It was fortunate, probably, that Old Meyr had lapsed into staring dreamily up at the sky and was apparently too engrossed to hear her call the Sheep’s Eye hers—“and dragging people about without so much as a hullo to the staff or an order placed.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. Jasper had to resist the urge to fidget.

“Well,” he tried, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t exactly—that is—”

Ignoring him, Lia clapped her hands once to show that the matter was closed. “Right,” she said, her voice businesslike and pointedly looking at neither Jasper nor Furlen. “I believe we will all of us want a calming drink, then—which we will all of us pay for, like the respectable patrons we are. Yes?” she prompted Jasper, eyebrows raised.

“Eh—aye,” Jasper agreed reluctantly, glaring at Furlen over her shoulder.

“Yes?” Lia repeated, turning to include Furlen in the address.

“Sure enough, Barmaid Lia,” the old man mumbled, and shuffled back into the Sheep’s Eye, clearly happy to retreat.

Jasper watched the old man go, but didn’t move to follow as Old Meyr raised a hand toward his departing compatriot and tripped unsteadily after him with a slurred, “Hold up—Furl’n—how ‘bout a drink—?"

Lia gave Jasper a long look, half guilt and half warning, before she turned and followed her employer back into the Inn, shaking her head.

Jasper looked back at the cage’s lock—heavy wrought iron. Too think to crack easily, and firmly Magic-repellent. He filed this information away for consideration. Now that his anger had settled down to a steady boil in his gut, he remembered (hearing a dead man’s voice in his head, there had to be one of us left) that he had been trying not to draw attention to himself.

For a moment, the demon caught Jasper’s eye, and she looked at him with deep distrust. Her left wing hung at an odd angle from the shoulder joint.

Feeling disgust bubble up in the back of his throat—for Old Meyr and Furlen Challis and himself perhaps most of all—Jasper turned his back on her.

He was about to push open the Inn’s door—and he definitely had put a crack in it, for which he was not sorry—when he saw a vague flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

Jasper looked down. The boy Will, leaning against the front wall of the Inn, blinked back at him.

“Sorry, boy,” Jasper said. “Did you sit down, or fall?”

He offered the boy a hand up. The boy didn’t take it. He was looking at the cage.

With a little effort, Jasper didn’t follow his gaze. “You want a drink? I surely wouldn’t give you alcohol, but they must have something like water behind the bar. I can—”

“I think,” the boy said slowly, “I am a little confused.”

Jasper blinked at the boy, and then up at the cage, and laughed once, leaning against the wall next to him. “Crythian,” he said bitterly. “I nearly forgot. Have you ever even seen a demon before?”

The boy shook his head. “Never,” he said softly. “I thought—it is a little different than I expected.”

Jasper laughed harshly. The boy winced. “Well, here you are, Mr. Price. A fine specimen of demonkind. And of the way we treat them, too. And if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go now, and get drunk.”

----

When Jasper left him to stalk back into the bar, the boy pulled himself very carefully to his feet, using the outside wall of the Inn for support when he felt his knees were about to buckle.

The cage was big enough to fill almost the whole square. It was a rough frame of stout wood, on huge, thick wooden wheels, with a tangle of loose iron mesh for the sides. Whether from nerves or from fever, the boy could feel his heart pounding in his temples, so hard it seemed the creature in the cage must surely hear it, but he still took a careful barefoot step closer to the cage, leaning forward to see the light filter through in bars and shimmer on the dirty golden feathers within.

He was just growing brave enough to reach out towards the bars when the mass of blood and feathers suddenly lunged up towards him with a cry like a thousand furious crows, and clung to the bars with long-nailed hands and feet, suspended like a giant fire-colored bat and ignoring the sizzle of iron against its flesh.

The boy fell back and landed hard on the ground, too startled even to cry out.

(Inside the Inn, Magician and Barmaid paused in their discussion to cast nervous looks towards the door. Most of Meyr’s party were too drunk to pay the sudden noise much mind, though Furlen Challis did cast a suspicious glance in Jasper Run’s direction.)

“Murderous traitor!” the demon was screeching, reaching a slim arm through the bars to claw at the boy’s face, just out of its reach. “I will see that the Council has bathed in your blood!”

Staring at the split and bloody tips of the demon’s claws, the boy’s brain stopped working so completely that what fell out of his mouth was a blurted, “You—you speak Crythian?”

At the sound of his words, spoken hesitantly in his own tongue, the demon stopped her furious scrabbling at the bars. In the slanted light, he could just see a pair of burnished-gold eyes with narrow, slit pupils examining him closely. After a moment, the demon withdrew her arm.

“…you’re not him,” she said blankly, in perfect Crythian.

The boy blinked once. And then he went shivered badly, cold under the heat of his fever, because of course he knew exactly who she had mistaken him for.

“No,” he said carefully. “I’m Will Price.”

With a loud exhale, the demon retreated back from the cage’s bars. “I care not who you are, dirt-creature,” it said flatly. Now that it was not roaring at him, he could see its form properly. It was shaped like a woman, with matted hair the color of sunset and skin the color of glowing-hot metal. It—she?—looked little older than he was himself, though that meant little, for a demon.

…he had been taught that it meant little, at least.

There was a long silence. The boy, staring into the dark and dirty cage, worried at his lower lip. The demon, flicking distrustful eyes at the boy’s face, pulled her tattered wings closer about herself.

“I confess,” the boy said softly, after a time. “I was not taught your kind could—speak so well.”

“Nor I that yours could be so thin and frail,” the demon snapped, teeth bared. Its teeth were flat and even. No fangs at all.

“Why is it that these men have caged you?” he asked slowly. An idea was starting to form in his head.

The demon leaned forward to look long and hard at his face again, as though trying to gauge his intent in asking. “How shall I know that?” she said coldly. “Does a man like you need a reason to hurt a creature such as me?”

Lips parted, the boy turned those words over in his head for a long minute.

“You are not what I was expecting,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her.

“And you are less even than I had come to expect,” the demon countered, sounding tired. “Though you come bearing a tool for killing, and that is no surprise,” she went on, eyes flicking down to the sword hanging at his hip.

Startled, the boy blinked, then looked down, laying his hand on the glass orb at the sword’s hilt. “I do, don’t I,” he said softly. And then, because of the fever pounding in his head or the thought of his father’s words (they are beasts and worse than beasts) or the Magician’s (and of the way we treat them, too), he made a decision all at once.

“Chorus,” the boy said softly. “Will you help me cause a commotion?”

The demon drew back, startled, when the boy’s long-sword began quite suddenly to laugh.

----

Lia was still staring at Jasper in slack jawed disbelief when the door slid quietly open to admit a small yellow-haired shape, and then closed politely behind him.

Lia had almost flatly refused to believe it when the Magician claimed to have found an injured, teen-aged Crythian wandering alone in the Waste, and now she could only stare, from the seat she had taken across from Jasper, at this thin white ghost of a boy, now pausing inside the door to get his bearings. Lia would give him sixteen summers, at a guess, surely no more than that, and from his sunken hollow cheekbones and narrow bony wrists she would guess he had not even in a week, or slept in half again as long.

“That boy was traveling alone in the Waste?” she hissed at Jasper. “I don’t believe it.”

Jasper shrugged. “I wouldn’t either, yet there he stands, and quite alone, you’ll find.” A shadow crossed his face as he said those last few words, but it was gone against before Lia could really wonder what it meant.

Lia had ten immediate follow-up questions, but then the boy seemed to spot Jasper, and picked his careful—barefoot?—way across the bar to the booth she and the Magician were sharing. “Magician Run,” he said softly, in very good Galdrean, “I wonder if—oh.” At the sight of Lia, he pulled up short.

“Young Master Pryce,” Jasper said, waving a hand between boy and waitress. “May I introduce Miss Lia Taplin, finest Barmaid in Atychia Town.”

Lia opened her mouth to say that this was damning with faint praise if ever she had heard it, but then the boy smiled at her, and she forgot what she was saying.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Taplin,” the boy said, and bowed over her outstretched hand, his free hand over his heard. His eyes were bright blue, ringed with thick brown lashes, and his smile was white and straight and perfect, and he was older than she’d thought—nineteen summers, surely, or twenty even. For a moment she was certain he would press a kiss to the back of her hand, and almost as certain she would let him.

Lia took a moment to recover, and thus didn’t notice Jasper Run start and stare at the boy like he had grown a second head.

“Uh,” Lia said stupidly, feeling herself flush deeply. “Yes. It’s very nice to meet you—Sai Price.”

“Please,” the boy said, in a voice that was slightly scratchy on the surface and velvet underneath, “just Will is fine. I was thinking—ah—” He staggered very slightly, and went even paler, which Lia would have thought impossible. “Perhaps I should sit down,” he said delicately, turning his dazzling smile on Jasper, who scooted over to make room, with an odd look on his face. “I am thinking,” the boy said in his strange sweet voice, “that while I am very grateful for your hospitality, I should be going on my way, now.”

“Going?” Lia said blankly. “Where?”

The boy blinked once, smile never faltering, then opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Furlen Challis approaching from the center table.

“Here, Magician,” Furlen said, scrubbing at the back of his neck, “Sorry for the… misunderstanding, eh? We’ll be on our way now, and no need for hard feelings between us.”

Will stiffened slightly in his seat.

Jasper openly glared at Furlen, but was in the process of forcing it painfully into a smile when the entire Inn suddenly shook with a roar of snapping wood and breaking metal. Jasper dropped the glass she had been holding. Lia jumped automatically out of the booth. Meyr’s party froze in the act of getting groggily to their feet. Furlen spun towards the door, hand leaping to the crossbow slung over his shoulder. Will Price stared down at the table.

The next minute was a mad rush of bodies towards the door, frantic to see what had made such a terrible sound in the square. Lia blinked, and was alone in the Inn with Jasper Run, who was trapped in his seat by Will Price, who hadn’t moved.

“I wonder, Miss Taplin,” Will Price said politely, “if your Inn might have a back door.”

Jasper attempted to stand up, but Will continued to be firmly in the way. Jasper stared at him, beginning to get the feeling that one of them had made a horrible mistake.

“It’s only,” Will went on, still smiling at Lia, just as if there was not beginning to be a very loud and alarming commotion outside, “that I’m thinking it might be a good idea for me to leave soon and I shouldn’t want to attract to much attention to myself, being a stranger here—”

And here he was cut off by Furlen Challis howling “MAGICIAN!” at the top of his voice. Lia and Jasper both jumped badly. Will Price, tellingly, did not.

“In fact,” he said calmly instead, still not getting to his feet, (Oh, Jasper thought, oh, he can’t stand, can he, oh, wonderful--) “I think it would be prudent to leave immediately, Miss Taplin.”

Lia gaped at him. Jasper watched her wind up to shout, but the boy’s unassailably polite smile seemed to defeat her in some way, and she pointed wordlessly behind the bar, instead.

“Thank you, Lady,” Will said, his voice warm velvet, and then visibly concentrated all his strength into getting to his feet, supporting himself against the table with arms that trembled slightly at the elbows. The effort drained his face past white and into gray. Jasper, whose head was spinning, made no move to steady him.

“Hold on,” Jasper said, “what have you—”

He was cut off by the sharp sound of a crossbow bold embedding itself deeply into the wood immediately above his head. Lia made a sound of wordless protest and was ignored by all parties.

“Not a muscle, Magician,” Furlen Challis growled, clearly out of breath and already reloading the crossbow. Will Price let out a faint huff of hysterical laughter and continued wading toward the bar with his full weight supported on the tables. Jasper scrambled to his feet.

“Hold on,” Jasper protested, “I haven’t done anything this—”

Furlen fired again and Jasper stumbled backwards, just flicking his Runes from his sleeve in time to catch the bolt in a thin sheet of ice summoned from his spilled drink. As the ice smashed at his feet and soaked the toes of his boots he just had time to think But I’m not even drunk yet before he processed that Furlen was legitimately trying to shoot him and yanked Lia to her feet, grabbing his cloak and satchel from the booth with a muttered expletive.

“Why are people shooting inside my inn?” Lia yelled, and Jasper shook his head, ushering her toward the back door.

“Truly, actually not my fault this time,” Jasper said again, towing her along by her sleeve. Furlen roared something behind him about losing gold that he could worry about parsing when no one was shooting at him. Jasper hesitated for a second and then planted a hand in the small of Will Price’s back and shoved him forward. “Fuck, you too, come on—”

Lia’s face softened immediately and she put a supporting arm around Will’s shoulders; Jasper filed Will’s immediate wince away for later analysis to give himself time to spin and spark Furlen’s next incoming crossbow bolt into a burst of flame that sent a harmless but very hot ball of ashes against Jasper’s chest with a faint smack. Jasper swore and slapped the embers out before they could set the wool smoking, and then spun his thumb around his Runes again and cut his free hand sharply through the air in front of him. The Inn began to fill rapidly with smoke.

“What are you doing?” Lia wailed.

“Och, aye, don’t mind me, just trying to make sure no one gets shot,” Jasper snapped over the sound of Furlen’s curses from the direction of the front door. The back door was just visible through the thickening air, and Jasper half-vaulted the bar to yank it open and usher Lia through, towing Will with her. The boy was getting even paler, which was almost impressive and also not what Jasper was going to worry about now.

“What have you done?” Jasper barked, slamming the door behind them and smacking a hand against it; with an effort of concentration he coaxed the long-dead wood of the surrounding wall to grow creakingly in around the doorjamb, which might hold the door against the men currently shouting inside the in for a few minutes, anyway.

Will shrugged Lia’s arm off immediately and attempted to steady himself, without much success. “Either the right thing, or the wrong one,” he said, in a slightly dreamy voice. Jasper’s hand smacked against his own forehead and grabbed a handful of hair of its own accord.

“That doesn’t mean anyth—”

He was cut off by a sudden rush of heat that threatened to throw him against the side of the Inn. Lia flattened herself against the wall, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

The demon from the square landed in front of Will Price in a rush of feathers and smoke.

Her great wings settled around her. The left straightened from its bent angle in a series of stomach-churning cracks and then raised and lowered hard, sending another rush of heat against the Inn, Jasper threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes.

Will Price stared at the demon, swaying slightly, though he didn’t look more than mildly surprised. The sparks dancing along the edges of her great wings reflected in his fever-glassed eyes.

Just when Jasper was certain the Firebird was about to lunge forward and tear the boy to pieces, she jerked a taloned hand to her own feathered throat and pulled free a single plume the color of flame.

“Do not waste this,” she said in a burning voice, holding the feather in front of the boy. His face blank with surprise, Will Price reached out hesitantly to take hold of it.

The force with which she rocketed up into the sky sent Jasper stumbling back and he stared after her, ears ringing.

“What in three hells have you done?” he croaked again, watching the great bird’s sparking wings with an awed heat in his chest. The wood of the Inn smoldered behind him but Lia seemed frozen with near-religious terror and hadn’t noticed.

Will was staring down at the feather in his hand, red at the shaft and burning flame-blue toward the tip.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said, and smiled.

There was a very loud wooshing sound from the front of the building. Jasper grabbed a handful of Will’s shirts. “Fine—I’ll deal with you later. We’ve got to go.”

[endae]

|between the never and the night|

[AO3]

There were five times he was immersed in the darkness, and one time he cowered at the light. For @forduary Week 2: Trust/Paranoia

Additionally, a very late birthday gift for @fexiled who has been nothing but kind since the day we started talking. Happy birthday friend!!

~.~.~

When Ma turns out the lights to their room, he can’t decide between letting his imagination run wild or anchoring it down with a book.

So he does both.

There’s a new one in his lap each time, a new thought in his brain paired with it. Like moths to a flame, they flock to him, budding curiosities drawn to the embers inside his head. They’re almost prophetic, these moments, when it feels like the pieces are falling into place, when the world outside is quiet — that is, as quiet as it can be on this block of town.

There’s a comfort in these hours. He’s always felt that. It’s when the soft nightlight in the corner of the room, like clockwork, illuminated the warmest glow. It’s always right before bed that he feels the lightening in his veins, the need to channel it somewhere.

He sees colors in the shapes across the ceiling, an aurora borealis cast across the walls. Either an illusion of his eyes, or the extraterrestrial priming him for an extraction, he doesn’t care. It’s wonder in its purest form.

If this is how every night is supposed to feel, tomorrow has never felt so promising.

He breathes in, and he may as well be breathing for the first time.

When he stares out the window, the sense of glory it fills him with feels like a potential untapped. The epiphany comes, and it comes anything but quiet. He hears the restless seagulls squawking in the distance. City-bound busses rumble in the streets, and there’s a blaring car alarm somewhere deeper in town. It’s close to midnight that he’s sitting in his bunk, but in right this moment, feeling higher than all of Glass Shard Beach.

Like a crossroads of his life, he feels it.

He was born for things greater than this.

He always imagined it would come with fireworks and fanfare. But it’s here in the dark of his bedroom that the stars feel more aligned than they’ve ever been.

It’s at eight years old that the possibilities flood his mind. His fascination with anomalies had long been more than just a passing interest. This room is the very testament to that, the books and drawings, the notepads with pages upon pages of his writings. His eyes wander to his hands in his lap, as if they held the key to everything. As far as he’s convinced, they always have.

This whole time, the answer’s been holding out its own hand to him. His calling.

Unveil the mysteries of this world. Chase the answers into the night to proclaim them come morning.

It’s in the same heartbeat that he seriously considers it that his chest swells something different, like an affirmation long waiting to be acknowledged. Like it was poised for this very second, he latches on to it with a resolve to never let go.

It’s decidedly at eight years old that he chooses a life devoted to explaining the unexplained.

With a smile spreading across his face, Stanford flips to a fresh page and starts to read. The path ahead him lies all but waiting, the thirst for knowledge his only compass. If there were ever a point where he’d learn to weather through the night, now’s as good a time as any. His world was his to govern, and it starts here.

In the bunk below, he hears Stanley snoring up a storm, and starts to chuckle.

~.~.~

Something changes when he hits his college years — and that may be the understatement of the century.

Because five months ago, he was sitting in his old principal’s office with every opportunity in the world at his feet. Four and a half ago, he’d perfected his means to secure a future, and not even in a blink, it had all slipped through his fingers.

‘Not that it was my doing.’

It’s been forever and a day since he’s seen his brother.

The whirlwind transition from high school to university comes like an arrow through a storm of white-hot anger. When your path is forged in the shortcomings that can’t even be called your own, there are fewer kinds he cares to feel.

It still stings if he thinks about it for too long.

His own brother. His own twin.

It’s close to midnight, and there’s an untouched takeout bag growing cold at the corner of his desk. His eyes land on the stack of assignments beneath it. Tedious coursework to finish. Rudimentary papers to outline. This is his life now. Gone are the years of youthful abandon and dream schools, of longing for explanations to the unexplainable. Gone are the hopes he’d climb the rungs of this ladder easily.

‘Not that it was my choice.’

The bitterness creeps in a lot easier these days, more than he’s willing to admit.

He combats it the only way he knows how, a callback to brighter days — Ford grabs a book to rest in front of him, forgoing his bunk for the metal chair at his desk. He’s swapped science fiction for science fact, determined now more than ever to shatter the walls between them. However much harder he had to work for it, however longer, this was his to achieve. He wasn’t about to let anything else get in the way.

He could only dream of a silence like this from when he was younger.

But with how loud his thoughts are becoming, he’s starting to wonder if that had ever been a good thing.

~.~.~

There’s a different kind of darkness when you’re alone.

Fiddleford’s echo of rejection rings louder in his head than he wishes it had — but then again, with the walls and walls of machinery, it’s hard for anything to go forgotten. The history of this lab is carved in its sounds, where the metal took every step, every breath to amplify for anyone to eavesdrop on. The whole world can hear his silence, and it says more than he ever has.

Without another voice to add to the very thin chorus keeping the paranoia at bay, a fresh bout of it seizes the opening. Any chance it gets, it plays like a broken record in his brain, the mantra that’s taken him hostage since the night the illusion fell to pieces.

Trust no one. Trust no one. Trust no one.

Without another body to populate this tomb of a lab, the ghosts of what he’s done haunt him so much more easily. In the graveyard of his triumphs, he stands isolated, like the last guard of a post he should’ve abandoned when he had the chance. It’s too telling of what that says about him, where that leaves him in the end.

Because if your reflection is the only friend you have, he cowers at the thought of what his shadow might be hiding from him.

In an unhinged moment of impulse, he turns, eyes gouging at the man looking back at him. Looking, truly seeing what’s become of him. Pathetic, he thinks, reduced to matted hair and stubble of neglected weeks past. He runs his fingers through it, spacey. Pathetic, he knows, eyes tracing sign after sign, but…

Maybe he shouldn’t be afraid, after all.

He doesn’t recognize him.

(but something else inside of him does.)

From the deepest recess in his head, there comes a whisper. It’s in his own voice for a change. Like the soft nightlight in the corner of his childhood bedroom, it flickers to life with something warmer than this lab has ever been.

A thought. And he feels it.

The smallest inkling. The cry for help that’s been slow building within him, so muffled that he would barely let it pass as a murmur. Not if he could help it. But the bonds are breaking. He’s suppressed it for so long, it was only inevitable that it’d find a way out eventually.

He drove himself here, the outright denial of when to throw the life preserver.

But the signs are all but telling now, staring down the shell of the man in his reflection. Hollow eyes. Sunken cheeks. When a loose stomach wasn’t enough. When angry tears weren’t enough. When meltdowns and outbursts amounted to nothing, always questioning, always pushing the limit of ‘when is it bad enough.’

If he were any less sane, he could laugh. So when do you throw it?

When the shadows grow behind your back, beneath your eyes, around your heart.

Ford’s hand curls tight into a fist against the metal, mind already made up. He needs to move fast.

Because it’s growing in the only place he can’t stop it — inside him.

[Read the rest here on AO3!]

[cowandcalf]

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No.6 - Ocean

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Danny kicks the entrance door gently open. "Coming in!" He shouts into the room before he hesitantly steps in, guarded, and with perked ears. He still doesn't know what's up with Steve. He's definitely ex-military or special ops, definitely ex-elite. "Hey, Steve, give a sign so I know that you know I'm coming in. You gave me quite the show out there." He calls and listens but all he hears is irritated, half-loud breathing out from the left.

It's a funny building. The façade is a solid brick wall with windows but behind the door, space opens up into one big room. It's spacious, simple white walls which have seen better days. The wooden planks on the floor are worn and dusty but add a comfy touch to the atmosphere. The set-up in the single room is sparse: there's a large navy-blue couch with a few strewn pillows pushed against the wall, right under a big America flag that is pinned to the wall.

Steve watches him with certain alertness. "Weapon's on the table. I'm not going to shoot you. If I have wanted you off my ground you would be already on your way back where you came from. I wanted to scare you off. Didn't work. You're still here." Steve states calmly. "You know Kame and you've brought food. You've gained some credit to negotiate."

There's something in Steve's voice. Danny's heart answers to the silent undercurrent. Heat spreads over his torso. "Negotiate? About what? I'm the one with the food, smartass." Danny chuckles. "You know, that's not the best way to start a conversation with a guy you don't know." Steve doesn't answer.

Danny makes out about three dirty raincoats on a racket on the wall and several bags of potting soil piled up in the corner. "Play nice, Tarzan. I come in peace." Danny strolls into the big room and sees the makeshift kitchen built from a table at the other side. He spots an electric water jug, a tray with different sized mugs, a fridge and the stuff people need to eat and cook. "Do you live out here?" He asks.

"You ask too many questions for a guy who plays a delivery boy." Steve leans against a super long and old wooden table. He darts him a hot, dark look. Danny's sure Steve aims to be intimidating but all Danny could feel is more heat spreading further south.

"Touché." Danny grins and juts his chin out. "What are you doing with all the baby flowers? Planting? Dotting the jungle with colors? Creating a magic garden?" He points behind Steve where a heap of fresh soil sits in the middle of the table. Steve must have potted flowers. The chaos has an order and next to the small, empty flowerpots are a few plastic crates with a large variety of baby flowers. Danny sweats and the flutter of nervousness makes him run his mouth.

Steve has his feet crossed at the ankles and his hands rest on the rim of the wood table. "Why is it so difficult for an HPD Detective to imagine a man doing gardening, invested in the flora and fauna of Hawai'i?" Steve slips into a defensive mechanism and wears a harder streak around his mouth.

Danny knows he has to control his brain to mouth filter. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I know, it's super impolite to ask prying questions but you held me at gunpoint. That was rude and I guess I've earned the right to go a bit off the rails with the rules of how a stranger behaves in a guy's private room." The lunch bags noisily land on the wooden surface of the smaller kitchen table.

Steve eyes him with high concentration and an unreadable face. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

"Safes lives," Danny answers without batting an eye. He keeps his cool but feels Steve's tension like barely-there electricity. His hair on both arms feels sensitive to the unfamiliar vibes he tries to analyze. Danny gestures a bit bashfully into the direction of Steve's baby flower collection. "I was disrespectful. I'm sorry if I've offended you. I just wanted to break the ice, get the talk going, you know."

"I'm not offended, annoyed would come pretty close though. You talk a guy's head off and I'm hungry. I don't like to waste time. I have to finish my daily workload."

"Duly noted," Danny turns his head. "Got any plates?" He feels like the fifth wheel. Steve and his plants are a solid union and he's the intruder. He can't shake the feeling Steve would want him to leave. This dark, dangerous, super handsome man gets antsier the longer Danny stays in a close range.

"And they're called seedlings or offset, not baby flowers." Steve pushes off the rim of the table he has leaned against. His voice is defensive. "Wash your hands first. Hand sanitizer is over there." He orders and points to the corner with the sink.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to contaminate your private rooms. I can assure you I'm very cautious and I take the rules of the Lockdown very seriously. Do you want me to put my mask back on?" Danny walks over to the washbasin and turns the faucet on. The liquid soap squirts on his hand. He cocks his head and glances over his shoulder. "Do you need me to put my mask back on?" He asks again.

Steve's bleak expression quickly turns, he scowls. "No."

Danny nods and watches, lost in thoughts, how the water swirls before it vanishes down the drain. The sudden mood-drop takes him off-guard. The light banter hasn't breached the steel walls Steve seemed to draw up when Danny turns his eyes in his direction. He feels sad. The dull emptiness swashes in his stomach and steals his appetite. "Do you want me to leave?" He has no idea why he asks this. It's important to hear Steve's answer.

Steve takes his time to reply. Danny dries his hands with paper towels. He tries to find the waste bin. The longer Steve makes him wait for the answer the more determined Danny gets to stay. "Okay, big guy, I get it. You don't like visitors. You don't even like visitors who bring food. And I'll leave but you just have to say it. I'm not offended. I can eat my delicious shrimps somewhere on a rock, gazing over the ocean. I just thought you might enjoy the company."

Steve has his arms crossed over his chest. A sheen of sweat covers his upper body. Danny notices the way he balls his fists and how his biceps bulge. Steve is nervous. The realization hits Danny. He keeps Steve in his sight and steps toward the big, old wooden table. Steve's stance is wide. He seems to feel uncomfortable. "You can stay." He says flatly. The vibes he gives off make Danny's neck muscles tense.

"Okay, let's eat then and I'm out of your hair." Danny grabs the bags. He still hasn't found plates. It's not very stimulating to notice Steve's not supportive. Maybe the unexpected disappointment Danny senses on his tongue makes him act unwary. He spots the waste bin at the other end of the seedling station. Steve's wary gaze gets him clumsy. Danny steps forward to throw the paper ball into the waste bin but he bumps into the corner of the huge, old table.

Everything happens in slow motion. Danny watches how the impact makes the freshly repotted seedlings wobble before three pots tumble over the edge and start to fall. Danny hears the surprised and fearful gasp from Steve and he expects this athlete of a man to leap forward to catch his babies. Instead, Steve freezes and Danny has his hands full with the bags of shrimps and the paper towel. He's too slow. There's this split second where he watches how the pots get pulled down to the floor by gravity. He decides to hold on to the food and drops the paper towels. He tries to catch one of the pots, without success.

The loud noise of cracking clay pots seems to detonate in the utter silence. Danny feels the hard push of hands and he stumbles. Steve rudely shoves him aside. Danny hears Steve's harsh panting he sucks in air like a drowning man.

"I'm sorry, Steve. Shit, sorry man. I didn't mean to – "

"What have you done?" Steve crouches on the floor, hunched over the broken pots. His hands fly over the spilled baby-plants without coordination. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" He yells.

Danny doesn't understand what's happening. He watches helplessly how Steve falls apart right before his eyes. "Steve, I'm sorry. Come on, let me help you." He drops the bag with lunch on the floor and squats down. His hand comes down to rest gently on Steve's shoulder.

Steve's wild. The angry jerk has Danny almost drop on his rear. His hand got swatted off aggressively. "Go away. Leave! You have to leave, I need – I can't," Steve's voice is a hoarse croak, laced with a fear Danny can't grasp but he’s more than willing to try to understand.

"Hey, buddy, let me help you."

"They're hurt, god, I have to – I have to," Steve murmurs to himself. Sweat runs down his temple and leaves a wet track in the smudge of dirt on his skin.

Nausea sets in the pit of Danny's stomach when he sees how Steve shakes. Within seconds he's covered in sweat and collapses slowly with his entire focus on the plants on the floor. His hands scoop up the flower dirt around the naked plants. The gentle, white baby-roots show and one of the young leaves is broken. Steve seems heartbroken. He cups them with both hands, his breathing ragged.

Danny can't move, too frightened by the shocking realization about what he's witnessing. Steve is caught in a world Danny can't see but he senses in what kind of horrible loop Steve has been sucked in. Battlefields. War zones. Destruction and death, agonizing memories Danny can't even start to fathom how unsettling those inner images must be. They seem to rule Steve's presence. The broken clay pots have flipped a switch.

"They'll make it. Yeah, you'll be fine, fine. I'm not giving up on you," Steve's eyes dart over to Danny.

The wild, helpless look on his face kicks Danny into motion. Steve must have lost friends in horrible fights, bled to death, nasty bullet wounds in impassable areas with no help to get them out alive. Danny has no idea if he's interpreting the situation correctly. Sever PTSD has many faces. And he's sure he stares in one of them now. Danny only knows he has to help Steve save the plants no matter how ridiculous this might seem. They're more to Steve than just plants. They're his friends who got killed in action. The ones Steve couldn't save.

Danny jumps to his feet. "I've got you, Steve. I'm here. We'll save your plants. Let's – " he walks over to this proud, brave man who's hunched over, unable to snap out of it. Danny empties one of the crates and is back at Steve's side in a second. "Put them in here. We'll pot them in new and bigger flower pots, okay? Here, lay them down, yes, just like that. They're strong. They're gonna make it."

Steve's hands shake uncontrollably. Danny tries not to stare at the strong arms and the helpless way Steve's experiences as a soldier let him crash completely. He's drowning in an ocean of bad memories that have messed so terribly with the emotional state he almost keens over baby-plants on the floor. "They're gonna be fine, yes," Steve mumbles and does as Danny says.

Danny wants to cry. The cruelty and the unfairness of the world cut through him like a glowing blade. He hands Steve the crate with the saved flower seedlings. "Let's get up. Come on. They need your care, new soil, and some water." Danny grunts when he pushes himself up. His knee screams with pain from kneeling for so long. He pushes the pain aside. "Steve?" He whispers.

Steve's hunched over and cleans the floor with his bare hands. Damp soil seems to be everywhere. He scoops the spilled soil to a smaller heap, totally caught up in this mundane action. Danny's eyes catch the tremor in his left hand. He bites his lips and waits a moment to collect his emotions that are all over the place. "Steve? Come on, buddy, get up." Danny touches Steve's shoulder once again, cautious and butterfly soft fingertips graze over Steve's bare shoulder. He waits and almost sobs when Steve twitches and shuffles to get up from kneeling on the floor but waits instead.

Danny doesn't know what to do. "I uh, look, I put the crate on the table. Your babies have enough earth. You take your time, okay? I'll, uhm, I'll go and make some coffee." Danny puts the box on the wooden table and turns his back to Steve. He washes his hands under the faucet. He bites his tongue and swallows the shock.

He listens with a wild beating heart when Steve gets up. Nothing. He hears nothing after that. He slowly turns around and holds his breath. Steve hugs his upper body, rocking back and forth. His breathing is labored and he still seems to be a prisoner of the relapse he experiences. His shirt is soaked in sweat. His skin glistens in the evening light. Steve looks lost.

Danny tosses the rag with which he has dried his hands in a corner of the makeshift kitchen. He knows from police training that people with an anxiety disorder need different tools to flip the switch, to get out of the loop. He has no idea if Steve has such a toolbox or if he needs something else. He has to try to get him out of the destructive undercurrent of the dark, dangerous ocean he has been sucked in. It's Danny's fault, Steve's such a mess. It's his fucking fault. He has to try!

"Steve," Danny whispers, scared to spook him with a too-loud voice, "what do you need?"

TBC

Also on AO3 - To Find A Way

[inviouswriting]

Summer Taste

Aymeric x Kiya

Smut

The trip to Costa Del Sol, was an enjoyment for Aymeric. Though the warmer temperatures made him more uncomfortable with being use to the cold climate that is Coerthas. However that was small compared to the pressing problem in his shorts. 

Aymeric eyes his wife who was sitting near him, at a counter talking to a few of the hosts for the Moonfire. She is dressed in the sarong she got and white top. The visual alone did something to him, Kiya is gorgeous, she is famous, and belongs to him. He is proud of the fact he has claimed her hand so many moons ago.

The problem wasn’t how his beloved dressed, it was the iced treat she had pressed to her lips every so often. A milk treat that some of the people told her she’d enjoy. Enjoy she is, but she sees the way Aymeric is staring at her from his seat. Shifting just slight, she caught onto how things looked to him and began to tease him with slow licks along the side of the treat.

Aymeric tries to advert his gaze, the open front of his white shirt and the blue shorts he wore, made it hard to hide him once he was getting painfully hard. He gave pleads with his eyes to her, until he saw her take the treat into her mouth and delicately suck at it. She flashes him a stare, and he knows she is deliberately teasing him now. 

The white of it didn’t help when she pulled off the treat. Much like another white substance that she has had on her tongue. Aymeric is grateful that his leg position hides him, if he stood up no doubt would it be noticeable for the tenting bulge in front.

“Aymeric~” Aymeric hears his name and looks at his wife. Just in time to see her give a languid lick across the length.  He coughs slightly and adjusts his sitting to lean forward. Glad that this hides the obvious better, but the strain of the fabric made it harder for him to be comfortable for long. 

“Kiya. I will get you for teasing.” Kiya bats her eyes, mesmerizing green eyes regard him with a seductive glance. She teases him a bit more, with tugging on the top enough to flash him a nipple feigning that it is just hot out.

 He soon sees her get up and stretch after finishing the treat. Aymeric thankful and tries to reduce the ache between his legs, he would need to remedy it in private, or wait for the swell to go down. He takes note there is not alot of people, and to his surprise. Kiya flashes him a grin and starts heading to find a remote spot for them.

Aymeric stares at her back, and sees her swish her tail as an invite for him to follow after her. He steps fast after her, and places his hands on her shoulders to press her to himself, to hide it better.

“Hmm? You seem to be having fun.” Kiya comments, and the moment they were well out of earshot of others, and where no one would care for the act they’re about to do. Secluded enough away from prying eyes. Aymeric flips his wife around and walks her back to a rock wall. Kiya bites her lip a little as she looks up to his eyes. 

Aymeric wears his hunger for her in very heated ice blues. Slight pained to the edges of his eyes at how much he is strained. He was waiting for something, they keep their stares together until Kiya smiles to him and nods. Consent to do what he desires to her and with her.

Aymeric kneels down instantly once he is given permission, and tugs off the sarong and bottoms underneath. He notes how her thighs are soaked already. Perhaps she was just as turned on as he is. Aymeric wastes no time in pressing his tongue to her soaked folds, and sets about pleasing her. 

Kiya digs her nails into his hair, minding not to scratch or yank his hair. Aymeric delved his tongue inside of her, sweeping it over her clit then pressing further to the entrance waiting for him to tease. Kiya keens quietly, feeling her husband’s mouth on her. 

Aymeric glances up at her from between her legs, and pulls his mouth back enough to draw one of the folds into his mouth and nips gently while tugging. Kiya feels her cheeks hot, and her fingers curl in his hair. Aymeric pulls further back and coaxes her to get down on the ground with him. Kiya nods, letting him pull her down and arranges them so her legs are astride his shoulders and her facing downwards.

Kiya catches onto his guide and tugs down the front of his shorts enough for his erection to be freed. She felt how tight those shorts were on him, and hears him sigh in relief as soon as her mouth descends on him. She repeats the act she did with the treat earlier. Languid runs of her tongue across velvet soft skin under her tongue. 

Aymeric teases her equally, going as much as to spread her folds apart, admiring the soft pink color, he runs his tongue along the ring before pushing it into her. Kiya’s hands on his thigh digs in, and moans around his erection. 

Kiya keeps it up until Aymeric can’t hold back, he is quick to tug her off his lap. Aymeric lifts her waist to his own, and sinks into her, burying his face into her back. He hears Kiya sighs a little heavy when he waits for her to adjust. One of his hands slips down to rub her clit as he begins to thrust into her.

Kiya hears his moans in her ears, low needy breathed sighs. She rocks her hips back to his, and is met with shaky jerky movements. Aymeric rocks forward harder, using his fingers along her folds to rub at the bundle of nerves. 

Aymeric usually the quiet one between their love makings was releasing his moans out, wild and growing in volume. Kiya realizes how much she teased him to get him like this. She feels him hug her to him as his thrusts get faster.

“You are so unfair, my love. Teasing me like that.” He purrs into her ears, and catches one in his teeth to nibble on. Kiya loses her senses, her mind blank in lust with him as she pushes back against his hips. Aymeric’s hands go to her hips and begins to pull her waist into each of his thrusts. 

Kiya is firs to peak between them, her voice reaching in volume till she shudders underneath Aymeric. Her husband doesn’t last much longer with her tightening down on him, his own moans reach with hers, till he fills her. When she feels him lay on top of her, Kiya smiles as he kisses over her shoulders. 

Kiya sighs content when she feels him attempting to rouse her again. Aymeric pulls from her brief, and flips her onto her back, re-angling her hips on his. She sees him still hard, and nods to him to allow him to take her again. 

Aymeric does so, burying back into her deep. His hips against hers and begins to thrust once more. Kiya prepared for this behavior from him knowing he always loves to have two romps back to back. Kiya sees his eyes closed and he is lost in the sensations again even tossing his own head back in bliss.

This romp lasts shorter than the previous one with him buried deep and pumping her full of his seed again. Aymeric lowers down and claims his wife’s lips in another kiss as he showers her in affection. Kiya smiles at him as he casts his gaze to her face again.

“Satisfied?” She teases him.

“Far from satisfied. I want to get to our room so I can thoroughly tend to you. Without the chance of others discovering us.”

“What do you plan on doing to me?” Kiya questions, and sees him raise up on his arms to stare at her with a wild look in his eyes.

“Everything that brings you pleasure.” He answers her, earning a blush.

“One more here?” Kiya asks biting her bottom lip.

“Hmm? You want me here?” He gets a nod out of her.

“By all means who am I to deny you then.” She is in for a long evening and night with her love.

[maddrmatt]

Kairi’s Epic Journey: The Quest for Sora

New to this fanfic? Click here to properly begin!

Chapter 4: The Darkest Dream

Destiny Islands

On the beach of the Play Island, Kairi sat on the sand.  She gazed out to the ocean while occasionally throwing a stick out to the surf.  Pluto ran after the stick and once he retrieved it, he brought it back to her to throw again.

As she continued her game of fetch, Kairi soon noticed something.  There was a glowing light in the sky that was falling toward the ocean.  She stood up and ran to the water’s edge as the light splashed down.  Pluto watched with her.

A moment of silence passed.  Suddenly, a figure broke through the surface of the water. Kairi gasped when she saw that familiar spiky brunette hair.

It was Sora.

‘He’s back!  He made it back!’ thought Kairi as tears of joy ran down her cheeks.

“Sora!” she called.

Sora turned around and saw her.  “Kairi!” he called as he fought through the water toward the beach.

Pluto barked happily as the Hero of Light approached the Princess of Heart.  Once he reached the beach, Sora stopped to take a breath before he looked into Kairi’s eyes and gave his trademark grin.

“I-I’m back!”

Kairi threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.  “You’re home!”

The two of them just stood there on the shore holding each other.  They both wanted to savor this moment as much as they could.

Pulling away, Kairi gazed into Sora’s eyes.  The eyes that she always adored so much. “Sora, I…”

Suddenly, Sora’s smile vanished.  “Kairi, look out!” he cried.

Without warning, Sora whirled them around and pushed Kairi away.  Though it was unintentional, she ended up falling on the beach.  She barely had time to recover before she gazed up and saw a horrible sight.

Standing directly behind Sora, was a figure in a black coat like that of an Organization XIII member.  It had its right arm raised with a Keyblade in its hand.  With a powerful downward thrust, it slashed it against Sora’s back.

Sora’s body arched forward.  His body started to crystallize.  Soon, it burst into bits and scattered to the winds.

A horrible recreation of Xehanort’s cruelest act only with a reverse of roles.

“Sora!  No!” Kairi shrieked as tears of anguish streaked down her face.  Once again, something, or rather someone, had torn her and Sora apart.

She gazed toward the figure in the black coat with a look of absolute rage.  “Why?!” she screamed.

The figure said nothing.  Instead, it pointed its Keyblade toward Kairi.  With its free hand, it made a gesture as if to goad her.

“Fine!  Have it your way!  You’ll pay for what you’ve done!” exclaimed Kairi as she summoned Destiny’s Embrace to her hands and charged at her enemy with a cry of fury.

Once she reached the figure, she slashed her Keyblade.  The figure simply blocked it with its own.

Kairi made several attempts to land a blow on the figure.  But every time, she was blocked.  As if to mock her efforts, the figure held its free arm behind its back.

‘It’s as if it knows my every move.  Maybe I can surprise it with some magic,’ thought Kairi.

After the figure blocked one more attack, Kairi leapt backward and shouted, “Light!”

A beam of light erupted from the tip of her Keyblade and shot toward the figure.  However, the figure suddenly surrounded itself in a dome of dark energy. The light reflected off of it and soared harmlessly into the sky.

Kairi waited for the dome to dissipate.  She planned to attack the figure the moment it let it’s defenses down.

The dome vanished.  But to Kairi’s shock, the figure was no longer there.  She looked all around for any sign of her adversary.

Suddenly, she screamed in pain as a dark blast struck her in the shoulder. She pitched forward onto the sand.

Kairi quickly turned around to see the figure approaching her with it’s Keyblade raised.  She quickly lifted up her own to block it just as the figure brought down its own.

An explosion of light burst from the point of contact between the two Keyblades.  Kairi shielded her eyes with her free hand.  

When the light died down, Kairi unblocked her eyes and gazed in horror at her Keyblade.  Or rather, what was left of it.

She was now only holding the handle.  The rest of it laid scattered in pieces all around her.

She barely had any time to mourn the loss of her first Keyblade when the figure pointed its own at her.  Now that her rage had been replaced by fear, she finally got a good look at her opponent’s Keyblade and was shocked by both its familiarity and unfamiliarity.

It almost looked like a dark parody of her Destiny’s Embrace.  But it was completely black in color and instead of flowers, it was covered in thorny vines.  The Paopu fruit keychain was cracked in half.

“Who are you?!” she demanded.

The figure just began to chuckle evilly.  The voice sounded eerily feminine and familiar as it raised its free hand to its hood and pulled it down.  

Kairi’s eyes opened wide in horror.  She could not believe what she was seeing.

The hair was pure silver.  The eyes were a deep golden.  The skin was a shade darker.  The mouth wore an evil smile.  But the face was her own.

She was facing what appeared to be her if Xehanort had, against all odds, turned her into one of his vessels like what he did to Terra and tried to do to Sora.

Kairi didn’t know what to do.  What could she do against this Dark Kairi with her Keyblade broken?  She still had her magic.  But without her Keyblade as a conduit, it would exhaust more of her strength than normal.

All of a sudden, the two Kairis heard wild barking.  They both turned to the right and saw Pluto charging at the Dark Kairi with a determined look.

“Pluto, no!”

Pluto leapt into the air with his teeth bared.  The Dark Kairi responded by raising one of her legs and launching a kick to the dog’s stomach, sending him flying in the opposite direction. Pluto whimpered in pain as he landed hard on the ground.

Kairi rushed to the side of her canine companion.  “Pluto, please be okay,” she said as she caressed the side of his face.

Pluto opened his eyes and gave a weak smile.  In spite of the dire circumstances, she smiled back.

“Don’t worry, Pluto.  I’ll make sure that…creature pays for what she’s done.  Somehow.”

Looking up, she saw that her dark doppelganger was gone.  She looked all around for any sign of her. Then she finally caught a glimpse and it was nothing good.

The Dark Kairi was running right toward the entrance of the Secret Place!

“No!  Get away from there!” she cried.  But her cries fell on deaf ears as the Dark Kairi crawled in.

Leaving Pluto where he laid on the beach, Kairi took off in pursuit of her foe.  She didn’t know why the Dark Kairi was going into the Secret Place.  But there was no way she was going to allow her to desecrate that place with her presence, especially after what she just did to Sora.

Reaching the entrance, Kairi crouched downward and entered.  She tried to move in as quickly as possible.

Soon, she came to where she could stand up fully.  Looking ahead, she saw the Dark Kairi standing between the paopu drawing and the door to the world’s heart.  

She had planted her Keyblade on the ground and was leaning on it casually.   With an evil smile, she made a ‘come here’ gesture with her finger.

Enraged, Kairi charged forward with her fists prepped.  She was looking forward to beating the tar out of this abomination who had slayed Sora in front of her.  But before she could even try, the Dark Kairi pushed her hand forward with an open palm.

Suddenly, Kairi froze in place.  She struggled to move but found that she could not.  The Dark Kairi had hit her with some sort of paralysis spell.

With her foe immobilized, the Dark Kairi moved over to the paopu drawing. She gave an evil smirk as she pointed her Keyblade at it.

‘No!  Please don’t!’ Kairi begged inwardly since the paralysis spell robbed her of the ability to speak.  She tried even harder to break out of the spell’s grasp to no avail.

Giving another gaze of sadistic glee, the Dark Kairi charged up a dark magic attack with her Keyblade.  Once enough energy gathered, she blasted the drawing.  Shards of rock burst in all directions and then all that was left of the drawing was a massive gash in the wall.

Tears dripped down Kairi’s cheeks.  Losing her Keyblade was bad enough.  But the destruction of the drawing hurt her even worse.  What had started as simple childhood drawing evolved into a testament to how much Sora and her meant to each other.  Now it was gone.

But apparently, the Dark Kairi was not finished with her vile vandalism. Her attention now focused on the woodcut on the door to the world’s heart.

Seeing her latest project in danger, Kairi once again struggled to break free from the spell.  But it was fruitless.

Instead of using a spell this time, the Dark Kairi raised her Keyblade with both hands.  With a powerful thrust, she plunged the Keyblade specifically in the spot where Kairi’s and Sora’s hands were intertwined.

Having seen two important tributes to her and Sora destroyed, Kairi gazed daggers at the Dark Kairi.  ‘When I get out of this spell, I’m going to tear you apart with my bare hands!’ she silently threatened.

Then dark cracks began to spread throughout the door.  Dark energy began to pour through before the door shattered into bits.

Before Kairi knew it, a massive Demon Tide shot out of the door and streaked toward her.  It pushed her painfully through the tunnel to the outside.  Once it emerged from the cave, it deposited Kairi on the beach and soared off.

Kairi, now freed from the paralysis spell, slowly got up.  She was in a lot of pain.  Summoning all her strength, she managed to cast a Cure spell to banish the pain as she witnessed the Demon Tide soar in and out of the Play Island, destroying everything in its path.

In addition, more dark cracks were spreading throughout the island.  The ground began to collapse, revealing an immense dark void below.

‘No!  Not again!’ she thought.  Then a feeling of dread came over her as she turned to where she had left Pluto.  He was still laying where he was.  But as the ground cracked underneath him, he soon fell into the void and vanished from view.

It wasn’t long until the Islands had completely broken apart.  All that was left was her standing on one of the few pieces of intact land swirling about in a cyclone of Heartless.

Then she heard an evil laugh.  She turned around and saw the Dark Kairi standing on her own piece of land. She had her Keyblade pointed at her with which she unleashed a powerful dark blast that destroyed the piece of land Kairi had been standing on from under her.

“No!” screamed Kairi as she fell into the void.  The Dark Kairi mockingly waved goodbye to her from her own land piece.

________________________________________________________________

?

Hours seemed to pass as Kairi continued to fall into the void. Craning her neck, she gazed downward. But the darkness kept going on so she probably wouldn’t have been able to see any bottom even if there was one.

Suddenly, her descent slowed, and she soon found herself on solid ground.  But still, there was nothing but darkness all around.

“Hello?!” called Kairi.  All that she heard in response was an echo.

“Can anyone hear me?” she called again.

“She was never meant to have a Keyblade,” said a voice from nowhere in particular.

Kairi gasped.  She recognized that voice.  It was Terra’s.  But she never would have expected him to say something so cruel unless he was still under Xehanort’s control.

Then other voices came out of the darkness: the familiar voices of her friends.  And they all said the meanest words possible.

“How right that is.  She just inherited it from me by accident.  I would have chosen someone more worthy,” said Aqua’s voice.

“She was hardly worth Sora putting his heart and mine in danger just to set her heart free,” said Ven’s voice.

“The only good thing that came out of his first sacrifice was Naminè’s and my creation.  Still, what did Sora ever see in her to make such a decision?” said Roxas’ voice.

“The moment someone grabs her, she just freezes up.  All that training together for nothing,” said Axel’s voice.

“I’m ashamed that my appearance is based on the memories of someone so useless,” said Xion’s voice.

“Sora should have let me replace her in his memories.  I wouldn’t have let him down like she did,” said Naminè’s voice.

“She should’ve passed on her Princess of Heart powers to someone who would have made better use of them,” said Mickey’s voice.

“After all that time trying to rescue her and this is how she repays us: by getting our friend killed,” said Donald’s voice.

“She should have just either stayed home or found some other world to hide on and left all the fighting to the professionals,” said Goofy’s voice.

“We should’ve never befriended her.  I’d still have my best friend if it weren’t for her,” said Riku’s voice.

Then Kairi heard one more voice.  It was the one she wanted so badly to hear again. But the words were nothing she ever wanted to hear him say.

“Why did I share that paopu fruit with her? She said to wanted to part of my life forever but she’s the reason it ended.  I don’t know how I could have ever loved her,” said Sora’s voice.

Hearing the voice of her beloved Sora say such cruel words felt like a knife in her heart.  With tears in her eyes, she sat down on the ground and clutched her knees to her chest.

‘They’re all right.  Even if I’ve done a few useful things in the past, they pale in number to how much trouble I’ve caused.  This darkness is where I belong.  No home.  No family. No friends.  No Sora.’

The void was silent except for Kairi’s sobs. No more voices were heard.  But their awful words still resonated in Kairi’s mind.

She had truly reached the deepest depths of despair.

________________________________________________________________

Onto the next chapter!

[niksixx]

Be There For You

Requested: By an Anon!

Pairing: The Dirt! Nikki Sixx x Reader 

Description: Nikki imagine where the reader is faced between going on tour/spending her life with Nikki and having to return home to her parents. Maybe where she’s confused with the situation, Nikki’s getting impatient with her and then she finds out they’re pregnant. 

Warning: Cursing, pregnancy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what are you going to do?”

Well, that was exactly the issue. You had no fucking clue. As a young girl, you always had planners, calendars, and sticky notes. They helped you stay on track because there was nothing you loved more than having a set schedule or plan.

But not even planners and calendars could prepare you for the sticky situation you found yourself in now. Originally, you had a plan. After finishing your last semester of college in Los Angeles, you planned on flying back home to Texas to move back in with your family. You’d live there, find a full-time job, start paying back your loans, meet a man, fall in love, get married, and start a family. That was it. That was the blueprint of your life.

But Nikki Sixx had popped the question, and you were left more confused than ever before.

Well, it wasn’t a sincere proposal with a ring or any of that fancy stuff. It was more like a “Marry me and come on tour and you won’t ever have to worry about anything ever again” proposal.

There were so many problems with his suggestion; One, you barely knew him. You’d only started hanging out with him during the beginning of your final semester. You had met him at a bar one night and you never looked back since. You weren’t dating, but neither you nor him were seeing anyone else, either. Two, you refused to have a man provide for you the rest of your life. Sure, it’d be nice and in the grand scheme of things there was nothing wrong with it, but you wanted that sense of independence that came with working a job that you loved. And third, you couldn’t just drop everything and tour the world with Mötley Crüe. There was nothing logical about Nikki’s proposition. It was so wild you hadn’t even given him an answer when he asked.

Huffing, you crossed your legs in the bed of your apartment, the one you shared with your roommate, Maddie. Maddie had come to LA from Florida and you had first met her sophomore year of college. You were best friends since then.

“I don’t know,” Running a hand through your hair, you drug your nails against your scalp, relieving some of the pressure. Your whole body ached for the past week, and your current situation was frustrating you so much there were days you had felt tremendously sick to your stomach. “I like him a lot Mads and I know he would take care of me, but I’m not so sure I want that.”

“Well do you love him?” She asked from her bed, munching on a bag of chips. “Or better yet, could you love him?”

Sighing, you hopped off your bed. “I think I could, but it’s too soon--.” Immediately you covered your mouth with your hand, slightly gagging into it. Maddie blinked twice before scrunching her brows together, lying her chips beside her.

You ran as fast as your feet could carry you and before you knew it, you were retching in the toilet.

“Holy fuck,” Maddie squeaked, holding your hair back. “Y/N, are you okay? Where the hell did that come from?”

Wiping your mouth, you made sure to flush the toilet before situating yourself on the toilet seat. “This whole situation has been taking a toll on me, Mads. My body aches, I’ve gotten sick at least three times and have felt sick many more times than that.”

Maddie helped you stand off the toilet, handing you a small cup of water. You sipped the water, swishing it around your mouth before spitting it back in the sink. Feeling lightheaded, you bent over the sink, accidentally hitting your breast on the edge of the counter. “Ow, fuck even my boobs hurt. I shouldn’t have to make such a huge decision and it’s killing me, emotionally and physically apparently.”

Taking a step back, Mads cocked her head to the side, considering. You leaned your head on your arm, watching as your roommate’s eyes widened the slightest bit. “Oh my God,” she breathed, slapping a hand over her mouth. “You’re fucking pregnant.”

This time, you puked in the sink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck do you mean I’m pregnant?” You asked, mouth full of toothpaste. “Are you crazy?”

“Think about it, Y/N, and I mean really think.” Mads said, rummaging through the cabinet below the sink. “Nikki is the only guy you’ve been having sex with for like what? Five months now?”

“I make him wear a condom,” you defended, spitting into the sink.

Mads rolled her eyes. “You and I both know condoms aren’t always effective. I’m serious, Y/N. You just named all the signs of pregnancy; Sore breasts, body aches, and you’ve been vomiting like it’s your job.”

Your blood ran cold as you rinsed the sink. There was no way you were pregnant. That was the last thing you needed as a graduating college student.

“Here,” Mads handed over a box of pregnancy tests. “I bought these last month when I thought I was pregnant, remember? You need to take a test.”

You knew you weren’t pregnant but would it kill you to take a test? Groaning, you kicked Mads out of the bathroom, anxiously ripping a test from the box, silently hoping the sign on the test would be negative.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you stared at the small pink plus on the pregnancy test, a strangled cry escaped your lips as you grasped your stomach. Mads took it upon herself to quietly open the door and when she saw the tears in your eyes, she knew exactly what it meant.

“It’s positive,” you whispered, letting the test drop from your fingers. “I’m pregnant.”

Falling to the floor, Mads grabbed you in a hug, not complaining once as you sobbed into her chest. “Hey now, you’re stronger than this. I know you will figure this out.”

“There’s a baby involved now, Mads,” you cried, drawing your lip in between your teeth. “I can’t do it. I can’t go with him.”

Holding you at arm’s length, Mads let out a breath. “That’s fine. You do what you need to do, but Y/N, you have to tell Nikki. He deserves to know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nikki kissed you softly on the cheek as he stepped into your apartment. You bit your lip nervously as you closed the door, pondering over how you should break the news.

“So,” Nikki said, rubbing his palms together eagerly. “Gimme the good news, baby girl.”

Taking a breath, you closed your eyes and let out the words you knew Nikki wouldn’t want to hear. “I can’t go with you.” Opening your eyes, you saw Nikki’s face had changed into a frown.

“I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re a grown adult, Y/N. Why do you insist on going back to live with your parents?”

“Nikki, before I met you, I had my whole life figured out,” you said, throwing up your hands. “My plan was to graduate from college and move back to Texas to live with my parents so I could work full time and start paying off my loans without having to worry about anything else.”

“So what we have means nothing?” Nikki asked, taking a step toward you. His face had changed to a bright red color. You could tell he was frustrated. “I mean goddamn, I know we’re not official but I want us to be. We don’t have to rush anything, we can wait to get married. I might have been a bit too forward, that was my mistake. But I want us to be together and I want you to come with me on tour.”

“Nikki, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” you pleaded, clasping his hands in yours.

“I’m getting impatient,” he said, narrowing his eyes down at your face. “I think you’ll really like touring. I’ll get you your own tour bus--.”

“Nikki!” You screamed, tugging at your hair. His eyes widened and he took a step back. “I can’t go with you!”

“Give me a damn good reason because everything you’ve said has been shit,” He growled, leaning against your bedroom door.  

“Because I am fucking pregnant!” You had wanted nothing more than to explain your situation calmly to Nikki, but it was far too late. You let your body fall to the floor, wrapping your arms around your stomach, praying that your unborn child couldn’t feel your pain. Not caring that Nikki was still in the room, you let your cries be heard. Everything was happening quickly and all at once, you didn’t have time to catch your breath.

When you felt yourself being lifted off the floor, you wiped the tears in your eyes as Nikki carried you over to your bed. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you freaking out?”

Chuckling, Nikki kicked off his shoes and climbed in bed next to you. Clasping his hands together in his lap, he gave you an uneasy look. “I’m freaking out inside, baby girl. If I freak out then you will start crying again, and I’m almost positive stress isn’t good for the baby.”

Sniffing, you pulled your shirt up the tiniest bit, running a finger over your tummy. Nikki sucked in a breath as he watched you, torn between keeping his hands to himself and wanting to place his hand over your stomach.

“I’m scared, Nikki. We’re not ready to be parents, not yet. We just met this year. This wasn’t supposed to happen now. Everything is all fucked up.”

“When did you find out?” Nikki asked, leaning his head against the wall.

“Last night,” you whispered. “I took three tests to be sure. They all said the same thing.”

You still hadn’t come to terms with your pregnancy. A large part of you kept denying it, but the rational side of you knew better. You were expecting a child. The tests proved it.

“So now what?” Nikki sighed, giving you a knowing look. “How do we handle this?”

“I have to go back,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. “I know my parents are going to give me shit, but they’ll help me. I can turn the basement into my room and my old childhood room can be for the baby. I can do this alone, Nikki. If you want to send money for child support, that’s fine, but--.”

“Wait,” Nikki said, hopping off the bed, spinning to look at you. “You think I don’t want to be a part of my child’s life?”

You blinked. “Uh, kind of? Why would you want to be tied down to a girl you just met and a child that isn’t even here yet? And did you forget about the tour?”

“First, the tour doesn’t even start until September. It’s only April. Second, I’m choosing to be ‘tied down’ even though that’s not how it feels at all. I want to help you, Y/N. I want to do this together. Just let me be there for you, yeah? We can make this work.”

Nikki was trying, begging, pleading. He couldn’t lose you, especially not now that you were pregnant. Was he scared? Of course. But Nikki wasn’t one to shy away when life became difficult. That wasn’t about to change.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been the fastest nine months of your life. You had opted to stay in LA, specifically moving into Nikki’s little apartment. It wasn’t ideal for a family of three, but it made sense.

Your parents had taken the news surprisingly well, vowing to visit Los Angeles as often as they could.

The baby’s gender wouldn’t be revealed until the birth, so Nikki had decided to paint the room a bright yellow color. It was the only upbeat color in his dark apartment.

For the months Nikki was on tour, Maddie would take his place. She took you shopping for baby clothes and even orchestrated a little baby shower.

Because you and Nikki constantly argued over names for your child, you chose to wait until the birth to give the baby a name that fit.

And now here you were moments away from giving birth to your first child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Nikki both cried as your son was introduced to the world. You were afraid Nikki was going to miss his flight back to LA, but he had made it back just before they gave you the epidural.

He was incredibly doting, making sure to rub your neck, shoulders, and back to relieve the pressure you felt. During the hours you had to push, he held your hand and kissed your head, whispering nothing but comments of encouragement.

And now just an hour after giving birth, you watched as Nikki held your son in his arms, sweetly kissing his nose. You couldn’t imagine a better man to be the father of your child, and as Nikki gave you the softest smile, you knew by his words spoken back in April that he meant what he said; He would truly always be there for you.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: With Wax Melted II

---

“That tickles!” Jo squirmed and gasped loudly as she tried not to react, but as he leant down to brush another smooth stroke of the one of his finer brushed along the line of her floating rib, she gave another loud giggle and twitched. “I’m sorry! Oh, oh I’m sorry - it just tickles with that brush a lot!”

“That’s okay-” “No it’s not, did I ruin the picture?”

“Jo,” Grey gave his own deep chuckle at the was she twisted her head back and forth, the tips of her blonde hair getting dark and splodged with the different paint colors covering her shoulders. It was just an abstract mash of colors at the moment, a gradient that his inner artistic eye could see was supposed to become a blooming sunrise like the ones he saw creep through the bedroom window each morning. He was in the middle of doing finer details though in the foreground - of a dancers form slowly spinning across the sunbeams - when Jo’d started to get ticklish at the switch from the thicker brushes to the finest point. “It’s alright - I can change the picture if you aren’t comfortable with this brush anyways.”

“Noooo!” She whined quietly as she stretched her back a little and tugged her hair around to her front, mindless to the smudges of paint getting on her hand and then neck and face as she looked back at him. She was a colorful mess of a masterpiece on her back, but the line of yellow and orange blending across her hands and cheek bone was a sign it’d be the same at the front too before he was remotely done with this project.

It had been a joke. He hadn’t meant it at all to be taken seriously when they’d gotten home and unbundled their coats off and made sure to water Nana and give her a little more kibble since it had been such a light lunch for such a big dog. He’d just rubbed Jo’s hip through her jeans and asked if she thought the Sharpie had stood up to the walking, and then made a joke about how pretty it and her permanent tattoo were both pink flowers from the cold and exercise. He hadn’t expected Jo to say he should color it whatever he wanted and get that wild look in her eye at some new idea crossing her mind, nor for her to double down and ask him to bring his paints up to the bedroom. By the time he’d been there, the bed had been stripped back to only a mattress protector and covered in the oldest towels and blankets they had in the house that were due for a wash that weekend as it was. And Jo laid out naked across the top of the bed and the absolutely hilarious line to be spoken asking him to paint her, “but not like one of your French girls. Cause you aren’t allowed any girls but me. And you should put the paint on me anyways.” Grey had managed to only just follow the request and joke as he was distracted drinking in her form before she’d rolled onto her front and presented her back and tattoos for him to color her in all the colors of love he could think of.

Shaking his head as he leaned down to press a kiss to her shoulder and then lips, uncaring of the red paint that would pass between her skin and his and then back again at the movement - it was non-toxic as it was, it didn’t matter where the paint got so long as he could show her how beautiful a canvas she was. As he pulled back, Grey grinned widely back at Jo’s own bright red smile before she ducked her head with a blush and rolled back into the position at his gentle pressing.

“Shh, Jo, it looks fine.” Grey said gently as he picked up a thicker brush and used that instead to delicately draw in the dancing forms that he couldn’t help but envision with hair dyed golden and sharp by the waking sun. He found himself unconsciously leaning down to press kisses along each footstep, smudging a burst of red and black across her back in his wake as well as his chin. Rubbing the paint from his own skin and uncaring to it along his arms, Grey finished off a few splashes of the deep purples of night being fought away before he moved to set his brushes down. “I think that’s done for now... And now,” He unconsciously reached a hand out to tilt Jo’s hip up so he could start in on the darkly inked flowers that bloomed under her skin and started imagining the bright golds of the sunflowers and deep burgundy of the peonies that would mimic the life and soul underneath their existence. “For these-”

“Nuh uh, hun, my turn!” “What?” “Gimme that brush-” “Huh?”

“Yoink!~” The singsong tone cause him off hand as the brush of bright yellow was gently tugged from his grasp and Grey found himself with a brush positioned towards his face and then suddenly swiped across his nose in a playful bat. “Now for the rest-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Grey growled the words out teasingly, leaning forward to grab at the brush with one hand while the other dragged the blonde in to rub the wet yellow paint against her nose as well before delivering a black and red kiss against her lips. There was a wet feeling in his hair and across his ear that had to be the paint brush from their playful struggling, and bundling her own hair up in a hand Grey nibbled gently against Jo’s lips until they were both gasping away for air.

The brush was dropped almost in sync from both of them to fall on the towels beside them as Jo shifted about to sit upright, hands tugging at his tshirt at the same time his hands were tight tugging her hair to angle a follow up kiss right. Parting for the pull of his tshirt over his head, Grey let out a startled yelp at the feeling of slightly cold paint against his chest as Jo’s fingers had seemingly swiped across the palette that rested beside her hips before sliding across his chest in a trail of blues and purples and oranges. Her hand moved to his shoulder, coating it likewise in a faded array of the colors as her fingers lost the pigment but it was like the spark of blending between them to both see the colors so stark across his skin.

A press of lips together and his hands moving to run straight down her back before swirling around the roundness of her hips to run up her sides to her breasts left a trail of mottled colors in its wake - yellows and oranges and reds mixed but stood apart still from the dark eggplant and blues that crept over her curves as his hands moved back and forth from the sweet but disappearing image scape of her back to coat her twitching stomach all the same. And likewise, her fingers seemed to seek out the palette again before her nails dragged the color in splashes across his chest, back and arms in a rainbow of cool tones that as they tugged each other closer mottled the brightness against the darkness and left each marked with a bit of both.

Trailing kisses along her neck, Grey worried for a moment before moving one hand away to start wiping away as much paint blindly from it as possible while the other continued to massage at the warm skin and breast beneath it. Tweaking and teasing her nipple with one hand, he let the moans and gasps and then the sharp squeaked noise as a slightly harder tug guide his movements as he sucked and bit gently along the pale expanse of neck until it would be as purple as the paint covering his chest. Jo whimpered and sighed and moaned beneath him, and as he moved to lay her back gently, the rise of her hips up against his drew a groan from him at how clothed he still was.

“Jo, pretty one, give me a second-” Grey panted the words against her collarbone before trailing more kisses along her skin and down towards her other breast. His words and actions wrung another gasped moan from the other as her fingers moved from his back into his hair, tugging gently and directing his lips to the perked point that was waiting for him. Giving a final careless wipe of his free hand on the nearest clean part of towel, he moved to shove and shake his jeans off his hips and kick free of them as his hand trailed instead up the currently clean inside of Jo’s leg until his fingers found their quarry between them. The warm and already wet centre that was just waiting for him as he slid his hand over her and then a finger between the slit. “Did you... Were you expecting this, pretty one?”

“Huh?” Jo groaned the word out with her head thrown back against the bed, and it took a moment before the gasping sound hitched out of her throat as he was able to slide a finger straight inside of her and crook it against the gorgeous spot that made her shiver delightfully with how wet she already was. “Oh god! No, no I wasn’t, oh Grey, I promise I wasn’t.” Her breathy words didn’t do much to convince him right then, but as he let out a chuckle at the way her hips canted up towards his hand - a second finger sliding in as he ground his palm gently against the bud of her clit in time - Grey left a trail of kisses across her chest with the knowledge that she didn’t lie either. “Oh, please..”

Grey groaned himself as Jo’s hips tilted up towards him and her fingers raked down from his hair along his neck to scramble at his back. Twisting his own slightly as he slowly worked her up, he couldn’t help the hum of pleasure at the way that she moved beneath him and let out a quiet laugh as he felt Jo tightening around his fingers. “You sure about that, Jo?”

“Ma...ybe a little.” Her little hitched gasp, breaking up the word, got another deep laugh from him as Grey trailed his lips back up her chest to catch her lips in his for a second. Pulling back and leaning away to look down at her, drinking in the splashes of color that painted an extra layer on top of her beauty.  “Maybe I...” Panting, Jo rolled her hips up towards his hand and scrambled to tug at the towels and then her own chest and then scraped her nails down his chest in turn, twisting beneath him. “Hun, please! I didn’t think but your fingers were so close, and you were so close and teasin’ me.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have teased you so much, pretty one,” He spoke the words softly against her skin but the words were deeper than that, deeper than even the way he was thrusting and twisting his fingers into her. Pressing gentle kisses against her cheeks and lips, Grey closed his eyes as he tried to push back the feeling that he’d done something wrong - that he’d done something he was trying to avoid and had stepped too far that way - from distracting him from the way Jo felt and was reacting to his touch. “I’m so sorry, I hope you’ll forgive me,” He murmured over the sounds she was making were those hollow gasps for air that went straight through him, and crooking his fingers inside carefully while speeding up the movement of his thumb against her clit, he could feel her legs tensing and then releasing as she let out a loud moan around his name that sounded like music to his ears as she came around him. “Please, pretty one, pretty please.”

Jo let out a confused sounding noise, like her tongue was too big for her mouth and all quiet and soft in the afterglow as he continued to pepper her nose and forehead with kisses before pressing his against hers with a sigh. Breathing heavily through his nose, Grey opened his eyes to watch hers slowly blinking open as she came back into herself. Those eyes were so forgiving, he thought that every time he caught a look into their depths after every failing, and the love pouring out of them right then felt all the same to him as she tilted her chin to kiss him sweetly as she finally found her footing and voice again. “Of course, hun, always.”

Shaking his head for a second once they parted, Grey gently wrapped his arms under her arms and around her back and shoulders to press her close. It felt like the searing heat of the sun to be wrapped this close around her, but he wouldn’t want to be free of it at all. Jo’s arms wrapped around his own shoulders gently, stroking passages on his back that might be left in visible pigmented paths after them when they finally separated, and then slowly shifted her hips to wrap her legs around him as well, pressing her core up against him with a soft moan that wrung the same from him.

He slowly moved his hips in turn, sliding for a moment against her such that he could just grind up against her, mumbling quietly asking for permission before he tilted his hips and slid into her on the next jerk of hips to the sound of their moans crying out together. Grey shuddered feeling her lips on his skin, trailing along the underside of his chin and then sucking on his neck the same bruising kisses he left to hers as his thrusts and her hips rolled together.

“Grey, fuck,” Jo gasped the words along his neck, teeth grazing here and there as he moved a hand to tangle and wrap in her hair in encouragement as the other gripped her hip tightly. Her fingers scratched gently along his shoulders and he could feel the way she rocked her chest up against his as they moved together in their favorite dance. “Hun, Grey, please fuck, more.” The way she moaned quietly around his neck and the dip of her tongue out against his collarbone brought another shiver to his spine as Grey thrust harder still at her pleading encouragement. “Ah, just like that!”

Gripping her tighter, he gently tugged her hair back to catch up her lips with his and smothered both their cries together in a tangle of tongues and lips and teeth as he slid the hand from her hip around to tease at her clit with a deft finger as he increased his pace. The rhythm was faltering, but the way Jo was working her hips up against him and the pressure that was building around him from her muscles tightening  was just as obvious that she was as close as he was as they moved tightly as one. Wrapped up in her arms, Grey couldn’t help the rush running through him at how hot and perfect it felt to be held by such burning passion as Jo let out a small squeaked sound that cut through her own moans and he could feel her cuming around him. Burying his face in her hair, he couldn’t hold back like a small part of him was screaming to do - to hold off and take her through again and again and again - and instead followed a few short, sharp thrusts later with a cry of her name smothered in her hair as he let himself go inside of her.

The warm embrace was too good though to pull back from, and tucking in against her neck, Grey stilled as much as he felt Jo still shivering and shuddering through the afterglow around him as he just enjoyed the scent that was uniquely them. Their love, their love making and the faint vanilla that clung to her at all times mixing with the smell of their sweat and the citrus tang of the oil paints coating them both. Rubbing his nose against the curve of her neck, he couldn’t of made himself move if he had to right then.

After their heartbeats had finally cooled down, and the cool air of the room began to sink into their skin, Jo finally shifted and squirmed underneath him with a quiet giggle. “Oh hunny...” Pushing up on her elbows as they finally rolled to the sides and Grey watched her face transform into the most beautiful smile as she took them both in with a louder laugh still. “Oh my god! Look at the mess we made!”

“Huh?” “We’re goin’ ta have to put the washing on.”

“Oh?” Grey slowly arched a brow at her before following her gaze to see the mottled array of colors that decorated the both of them as well as the bright splashes and parts that had blended to a murky black all over the towels where Jo’s back had been. Shifting up and leaning over to look at her back then, Grey could see the path of his hands stretched through parts of what had once intended to be a sunrise and now looked like a Dali melted sky and black blurs in other spots. Smiling, he reached out to trace a black blob that had once been a dancing figure and now was a black mess with a streak of yellow through it. “I don’t see any mess here though.”

“That’s cause you’re an artsy-fartsy boy.” Jo giggled in response, leaning up to kiss him gently and as she pulled back Grey really took in the pain that covered her smile then - a bright yellow streak on her nose and purple against her neck and chin, the orange blob covering one check and the bright red smeared around her mouth and a green streak across her forehead and one eye that he had no idea where it could have come from. “You’re all purple and blue, my hunny.”

“Oh good, cause you’re all yellow, my sunshine.” Grey nuzzled his nose in against hers with another quick kiss to the tip before laughing loudly at the purple and red imprint it left behind. “Oh... Okay, maybe we’re a little messy right now.”

“Nah, ya think?” “Just a little one though.” “Only the littlest.”

“Guess we better get cleaned up then?” He suggested with a smirk as Jo had flopped back onto her back, stretching her mottled arms above her head and the range of colors darkening her hair into a sunrise all it’s own as he slowly shifted to stand up. Holding a hand out, he wasn’t surprised at all for her smaller one to slide into his and tug him in for a kiss once they’d both found their feet. “Shower time, again, pretty one?”

“But no messin’ ‘round this time-” “No?”

“Maybe just a little bit!” Jo giggled as bright as the yellow paint on her nose, and Grey smiled wide as those brown eyes filled with mischief but none of the burning desire that would have made his stomach flip right then to think of following up on. “But mostly washin’ up.”

“Agreed.” Grey sealed their agreement with another bright kiss, arms wrapped tightly around her waist and smooshing the colors that had been distinct but still blended all the more together as he simply enjoyed holding her to him for a moment before they had to part and wash away in streaks down the drain the masterpiece they’d made of one another together.

---

Jo was the one wearing the apron today, and Grey couldn’t help but think she looked utterly precious as she moved between the fridge and bench top moving ingredients out for whatever she had planned for dinner. Grey himself had a tea towel tucked over one shoulder and another in the front pocket of his jeans, and was instead busy washing his hands after taking Nana out to the toilet and a few throws of the ball. When he’d come back inside, it sounded like his playlist was playing through and it’d been sweet to watch Jo throw her hands up and dance about their girl to avoid touching her but still give the attention for a moment.

“Babygirl, fluffy puppy, baby princess, Mommy is cookin’ darlin’ girl,” Jo crooned as she leant down towards the happily prancing dog, but stayed upright enough she wouldn’t get any surprise kisses or tackled into a cuddle. “Mommy can’t play right now, but she left a lot of toys out for you. Pup wanna go upstairs? Up to Nana’s room? Goin’ ta be a good girl?” Jo gestured a few times towards the stairs while cooing towards the fluffy animal as if she were a real baby until the confused look on the dog’s face slowly shifted to boredom and annoyance before finally recognition at the gesture to upstairs a few more times. As the dog headed in the suggested direction, Grey watched as Jo clapped her hands happily in time with the swishing wag of the pup’s tail. “Oh what a good girl you are, Nana. Go on girl!”

“You really have been upping her vocabulary, haven’t you, Jo?” “Just a bit. She’s a very smart girl-” “Oh yes, soon we will need to get a tutor for her-” “Hey, don’t tease me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, oh my most knowledgeable love,” Grey placated as he moved over to wrap his clean hands around the other’s waist from behind for a moment, tucking his chin over her shoulder again and pressing a kiss over the purple mark that rested there and hadn’t washed off in the shower like the rest of their antics. “So, do I get to know what we’re doing for dinner yet, Jo?”

There was a pause as the other raised a brow towards him for a moment, head twisted slightly to catch and hold his eye for a moment, before she bobbed her head a little and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “Well, somewhat. I’ve gotta get your help with it anyways-”

“You’re letting me help?” “I thought you might enjoy it?”

“You thought right, pretty one.” Grey practically beamed at her request for him to help prepare whatever it was she’d dreamed up for their meal. Pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, he squeezed her tightly for a moment, before finally letting go with a small spin of her out from where their hands had joined in turn with the crooning song over the speakers before she span back in with a giggle. “So - what’s first?”

“Well, Mr. Masterchef,” Jo teased as she finally pulled from his hold and moved to get more items out of the fridge before holding up and juggling poorly with two relatively big eggplants as she looked back at him. “You can get started on the eggplant parmesan while I get the beef ready for the carnivores version - or we can do it the other way round if you want?”

He moved over to pluck the two fruits from her hands with a smile. “That what we’re having tonight then, huh? That’s a lot for the two of us-”

“We’ve got guests, comin’ over, hun.” “Oh?” “Yeah, your family are coming round, and Harry too.”

“So, a dinner party with the sisters and Harry?” Grey asked gently as he moved towards the two trays covered in parchment paper Jo had set out beside the chopping board. Setting the eggplants down, he moved carefully to top-and-tail the stem and base off before slicing into decently sized slices and laying them out on the tray as he heard the clink of bowls and the quiet sizzle of a fry pan start to heat up oil behind him. “You’ve really thought of everything, you know that, Jo.”

“Awwww.” Jo cooed back at him, and quickly rattled off the instruction to oil the eggplant when he was done as well as season them as she cracked some eggs and set up the crumbing station for the flattened beef steaks.

As soon as he’d finished the eggplants, Grey span about with the trays in hand to see Jo opening the heated oven for him to slide them in with one hand while she gently dropped a beef schnitzel into the heated oil away from her to avoid the splashes with the other. It was honestly sweet to him to watch the way Jo worked, and as he closed the oven door on the eggplants, he waited until she’d dunked the next schnitzel that would be all that would fit into the pan before jumping in for another quick squeeze.

"Hunny!"

"Sorry," he chuckled quietly at Jo's flapping her eggy, crumbed fingered hand around even as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Couldn't help it. I'm just... In a good mood is all."

"Oh?" "I'm just really enjoying getting to spend today with you-" "And Nana." "Yes, and Nana. And I just... I just wanted you to know it."

Sighing into her hair, Grey pressed a quick kiss against the slightly damp locks and tucked a stray piece back behind her ear.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I wanted you to have a good- no, a great - day today." Jo's words were soft and warm and wrapped about his heart like a vice as he pressed an extra quick kiss against her ear before letting her free as he'd glanced down at the fry pan. The other moved quickly to flip the schnitzels over for another minute on the other side before she quickly pulled them to dry on some paper towel and dipped in the next two schnitzels.

Looking around at the rest of the ingredients, at a loss, Grey frowned for a second before spotting the tins of tomatoes, the garlic and basil sitting out.

"Hey, did you want me to start on the tomato sauce for the parmesans?" "Oh, yeah actually. That'd be great!"

Nodding to himself, Grey quickly bundled up the ingredients and pulled out a pot to splash in some oil and start the garlic sweating off as he double checked what was out on the bench. "Tomatoes, garlic and basil - did it need anything else from here, Jo?"

"Umm, actually you'll want to put some diced onion in now too and add the tomatoes after they're sweated off." Jo mumbled, more talking aloud to herself as she watched and flipped the schnitzels before doing the last two into the pan, and glanced into the pot beside her skillet. "And if you can find some sun dried tomatoes in the fridge, there might be an open jar, then I'd blitz those up in the food processor with the tinned tomatoes before addin' them in?"

Grey raised a brow at the suggestion for a moment before turning towards the range of ingredients set out and then checking in the fridge if there were any allusive tomatoes hidden in a jar somewhere. It was just like Jo to buy a range of jarred things for one recipe and then leave half or more of the jar in the fridge for ages until it had to be thrown out or she came up with another use for them. He found a jar, tucked between a pot of lemon butter Jo had made a few days ago and the ketchup bottle that they were in constant odds of if it should be in the fridge or not, and checking the date on them he figured they must have been a relatively new buy given how long was left to be used.

"Found some!" "Oh awesome! I forgot to buy some at the shops so I thought that must mean we had some already or I was just forgetful." "You? Forgetful? At the shops? Never."

Jo batted his arm at the teasing with a laugh of her own as he moved past to place all the tomato options together into the food processor, whizzing quickly and then emptying them into the pot on the stove as the onions had turned translucent and the garlic smelled nutty and delicious. Jo's hand reached past him to grab the processor bowl, filling it with a little bit of water to splash about and get all the very last of the tomato out as well as add the liquid to the tomato sauce that would simmer away for a while. Grey noticed all six beef schnitzels were finished and drying on paper towel, and that Jo had started to clean up when he took the eggy bowl she was holding.

"Since you know what's next, how about you start the prep work and I get the dishes started, pretty one?" Grey suggested teasingly as he hip bumped her out of the way gently from the sink. It wasn't like he disliked doing dishes the way that Jo did, even if she still insisted on doing them when he had cooked if he'd left any. "And then by the time they're done, you'll have a new job for me?"

Jo looked indecisive for a moment - her dislike for the dishes clear on her face as well as her uncertainty about letting him do a chore she hated on today of all days - before she finally nodded. "Okay, sounds good, hubby." Grey felt his cheeks flame as they always did hearing that term of endearment from the other, especially as it always seemed to be simply a slip of the tongue or an unconscious thought from the other that got through. Jo didn't seem to notice as she grabbed up the flour and yeast from her ingredient pile and waved a hand behind her towards him. "Oh, can you also stir the sauce occasionally? Don't want it to catch."

"Sure thing, Jo."

Grey was focused on the dishes, and on stirring the sauce as requested, but neither task required much of his focus and instead he found himself taking glances over his shoulder to watch Jo working.

First she seemed to whip up a bread dough in no time, hands flying through the mixing and kneading in a bowl then the clean bench surface, and had the dough resting with a tea towel over it on the kitchen table in no time where it'd usually take him even ten minutes using the stand mixer.

Next, there was a pile of flour poured into the bench and Grey's eyes widened to see her cracking eggs and pouring olive oil directly into the center before he realized what she was making. The next dough, a bright yellow pasta dough from the fresh eggs, was equally quickly made, but Jo wrapped it in cling wrap and laid it out in the fridge before Grey finished the last of the dishes so far.

He grabbed up the cleaning spray instead, wiping down the floury remains on the bench before Jo could get to it, and was rewarded with warm lips against his neck and a pair of arms wrapped around his waist like he had her.

“Grey, c’mon,” Jo whined a little, but leaned into him as it was and tossed her head forwards against his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have ta keep cleanin’ up like this.”

“Oh, but you see, I like cleaning up. It means I get to watch you cook more and it means you’ve done more of the cooking so everything is guaranteed to be delicious.” “That’s... So ridiculous, hunny, honestly.” “How so? Your food is always the best, Jo, honestly.”

The blonde gave one of those tight, self-conscious laughs before she tugged away from his back with a smile. “Okay, fine. I’ve got one of two tasks for you then since you’re worried ‘bout doing the cooking side of things.”

“Shoot away.” “First off, a basil pesto for with the pasta.” “I’m guessing some of the basil, the - hmmm - pine nuts, the garlic and the olive oil?” “And a little bit of the parmesan cheese and some lemon zest and juice.” “Interesting! You’ll have to taste test and show me though.”

“Fine,” Jo singsonged the word out as she span into his arms, and Grey shifted one hand to tug teasingly at a tendril of hair that had fallen forward before stealing a handful of kisses from the other. They’d kissed so much that day, but every second he wasn’t he felt drawn to do it again with how relaxed and over flowing with love the day had felt. “Hunny...” The other whined quietly against his lips, and biting gently for a second on her bottom lip before releasing, Grey made sure to attempt to look as admonished as possible.

“Sorry, sorry, what else do you need from me, chef?” “Oh stop with the teasing!” “Never!”

Grey thought the bright and light laugh that got from the other was so much more musical and beautiful than the previous laugh he’d wrought from her, and leaning in he couldn’t help but to brush his nose against hers before pulling back and holding his hands up when it looked like she was about to reprimand him again. “Sorry, chef, hands to myself and no more kisses until I’ve been assigned my tasks.”

“That’s much better,” Jo giggled as she reached out to take his surrendering hands into hers. “So the second thing is some garlic and herb butter mix to go on the bread sticks-”

“Garlic bread bread sticks?” “Yep, exactly.” “I’m guessing - melted butter, chopped garlic and some chopped herbs?” “I even bought some Italian seasonin’ to make it easier. And don’t forget the salt.”

“Well now, I can definitely do both of those for you, pretty one.” Grey replied gently, smiling to himself at the easy tasks and he lifted her hands to his lips for a quick kiss before letting them free. “I’ll get right to it.”

“Brilliant - I’ll start work on dessert then, and let me know when you want a taste on the pesto.” Jo smiled brightly up at him for a moment, a flash as bright as the sun to his wanting eyes, before they both turned towards their tasks.

Grey found his were relatively easy and gave his mind the chance to not only wander but to fill with the tunes of his favorite songs slowly floating through the air around them. He hummed along and on occasion quietly sung along as he minced a lot of garlic, chopped a lot of herbs, and pulsed mixes together or melted the butter carefully in the microwave so as not to explode it.

The few glances he spared towards Jo as he worked, not including the odd moment where they would have to intersect or interact or reach past one another for something which would turn into a slow spinning turn of a dance and an opportunity to share a more than fleeting touch, he was once again entirely transfixed by how much work she managed to complete. He watched as she seemingly miraculously made her own honeycomb that expanded and bubbled and was the exact right shade of gold while filling the air with the sweet smell of caramel. She made actual caramels and turned it into salted caramel and then filled tiny tart cases from what looked like previously made short crust pasty to make tiny caramel tarts that she covered with a thin layer of dark chocolate. And she made equally tiny little lemon meringue pies and then just dollops of meringue kisses as well. And through it all, she continued to taste the pesto he worked on, put the tray of bread sticks into the oven to bake, and finish off the tomato sauce for the parmesan sauce with a dash of balsamic vinegar and some of the fresh basil leaves.

Jo had started rolling the pasta dough through a pasta machine Grey hadn’t known they had until it was almost thin enough to see through, as Grey was finishing the second round of dishes from all their cooking and preparation, when there was a knock at the door.

Jo grinned as she finished the last pass through of the pasta maker and laid the long strip into a thin little book folded up on itself and brushed off her floury hands with a smile. “Hey hun, you free to get that while I get some drinks ready? It’s probably Harry or your sisters runnin’ early.”

“Sure thing, Jo.” Grey smiled in response, wiping his own slightly wet hands from the inside of the dish gloves off after rinsing them quickly, before he headed out to greet their first guests and inevitably start an amazing evening to match just how wonderful the day had been so far.

---

Harry took the can with a quiet thanks as Grey sat down in his own chair across from him. Jo had been right in her call that it was likely the researcher, and while Grey’d suggested they hang in the kitchen, they’d both been chased out within a few moments with a tray of cheese, dips and crackers from the cooking space once Jo’d been sure who had arrived. “No point you distractin’ me and both of you getting in the way of my settin’ the table.” She’d cried as she shoved the trays and a bowl of cut vegetable dippers into Harry’s hands as Grey had fished the drinks from the fridge.

As he relaxed into the armchair, Grey smiled across at the other man. “Thanks again for coming, I don’t know if you had other plans but-”

“Dude, stop always thanking me for coming to hang out.” Harry interrupted with a laugh, cracking the lid to his soda with a smile. “It’s more Sophie being put out than me, but she’s got some busboys now to help around the bar - which I haven’t gotten to thank Jo for okaying yet.”

“I don’t know if Jo really has all that much say anymore.” “Oh?” “I mean, Sophie’s pretty much managing the place these days isn’t she?” “That’s true. I’m sure that Jo’d agree too-”

Grey nodded as he took a sip of his own drink with a sigh. “I think Jo appreciates the help, actually. I can’t remember how she ended up with the place, but I’m pretty sure Jo is happy there’s someone so actively involved with it,” There was a pause as he swallowed his drink before his eyes widened as he thought about how that might have sounded to the other. The liquid caught in his throat for a second and coughing it down, Grey looked towards the other with an awkward flush. “Not to say you’re not, of course. Just-”

Harry let out an even louder laugh at that point, no trace of any offense in his smile as he shook his head. “Nah, man, you were right. I’m not great behind the bar, not like Soph, but I’m definitely a better help upstairs than pouring drinks.”

Grey nodded, relieved the other hadn’t been offended at all, before he ducked his head for a second. It was odd to think about the bar and everything to do with it - ever since Jo’d moved in with him, Grey had rarely visited without the blonde and tended to offer that Harry come relax at theirs instead, and it was a long time since he’d heard Jo talk about the operations itself. He shook those thoughts from his mind with a quiet sigh before he glanced back over towards the other man. “So, you’re up to calling her Soph now?” Grey smirked a little, having noticed the tiny change for him to latch onto instead.

“Oh, don’t you start. Your sister got me into so much shit-” “Which one?” “That’s a good point - they both definitely contributed-” “Well, you can supposedly yell at them tonight about it.”

“Oh, I will.” Harry chuckled himself, shaking his head as he took a swig of his drink and then moved forward to take a cracker and some cheese with a smile. Grey could see the way his ears were tinged red, and figured that whatever trouble the researcher had caught wasn’t actually all that bad in anyone’s mind. “Tell them to stop trying to play matchmaker if they’re bored.”

Grey let out a laugh of his own, well thinking that his sisters both must have made a few comments before he’d arrived, and more than happy to join in on helping his friend find happiness. If the barmaid is what would do it, then Grey was entirely on board - besides, his own barmaid had turned out to be the most astounding love for him.

When he leaned forward to get himself his own cracker with a swipe of the hummus dip on it, Grey was surprised to hear the sound of raised voices in the hall. There was no stress to them though, just a lot of laughter and the sound of the door closing, so he didn’t make to move to check just yet.

As fate would have it - both his sisters came wandering into the loungeroom after a few minutes, each with their own drinks, and moved towards the open spots on the couches and armchairs about the space with joyful greetings to both the men. Ombre plopped down beside Harry, a little too close for the normal expectations of personal space, but all wide smiles and her wide petticoats under the baby pink dress needed the extra space to sit; and Harry barely shifted other than to raise his hand across the back of the couch so he could talk freely. As for Shada, she slipped over to the other spare armchair and crossed her knees carefully as she found the most comfortable position to see and talk to everyone.

“How has your day been so far, Grey?” The brunette shadow asked with a gentle smile as she looked across at her brother. Grey thought she seemed a tad over dressed for a family dinner with her nice dress and the glittery shoes she’d been gifted the year before for Christmas, but then again, Shada only dressed down when she had to. “Jo looked very relaxed all things considered, especially compared to last year.”

“It’s been a very... relaxing day.” “Why did you pause over the choice of word, brother?” “Because, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“No, you just kiss and leave glaringly purple marks behind you.” Harry cut over the two shadow’s conversation with a bemused grin, getting a loud laugh from everyone as they settled in to relax for a while. “I mean, unless Jo took on a changeling or pishtaco hunt recently?”

Grey shook his head ruefully at the ribbing, especially as both Shada and Harry took great delight in explaining the joke to the confused blonde when she’d asked what they were all laughing at despite having laughed along herself. He didn’t mind being the butt of the joke when it made everyone else have a good time, and if Grey really needed to, he could always bring up the barmaid again for his sisters’ to target the other about. As he dipped a carrot stick into the pumpkin dip on the table, Grey watched quietly as the other three continued to talk and banter between themselves. Ombre was talking about how she’d seen a dress on the internet and was crazy about it, and Shada talked about how she’d spent several hours taunting other players into outing themselves in Among Us when playing alone, and Harry actually talked about some sci-fi comic show that had just come out that he was excited for and got both other women very interested in it as well as Grey.

It wasn’t until Shada got up to collect a new round of drinks that Grey thought about how long they’d been talking and that Jo hadn’t moved everyone in for dinner despite everyone being there. She would have normally come in to talk when the other two women had arrived and likely suggested they head in for dinner by refill time, but Grey hadn’t seen her for a good forty-five minutes at that point.

“Hey, no don’t worry about it, Shada, I’ll go get them.” Grey jumped up as the other started collecting the glasses and empty cans of soda, bustling quickly now that the thought had caught in his mind. “You guys chat, I’ll go see if Jo needs a hand with dinner too anyway.”

“You sure, Grey?” “Yes, I’m sure. Sit down, those shoes are made for showing off, not walking.”

“Actually, they’re very good at both,” Shada remarked with a flip of her hair as she flounced back down into her seat, kicking up her heels and waving them towards him as if to demonstrate their immense use and practicality. As if a six inch heel could in any way be practical. “Let me know if you or Cupcake need any more help though, brother.”

Grey waved a hand in acknowledgement as he heard Harry continue to explain the plot lines and theories he’d heard about the show - “and the soundtrack is insane!” - before he headed into the kitchen quietly. His playlist seemed to have looped, but Jo’d made no move to turn it off as she’d worked it seemed. And work is what it looked like she had done since being left to her own devices.

The oven was on and the scent of melting cheese, tomatoes and basil was in the air from where the two casserole dishes were tucked away heating through, as well as garlic dancing on the air with the rest from the fresh garlic breadstick loaves that seemed to be warming through underneath. There was already a large serving dish on the table that looked stunning with the thick slices of a range of heirloom tomatoes - from the deep inky reds to some bright yellow flashes and orange tones in between as well as just vibrant reds - and what looked to be fresh mozzarella alongside the prettily scattered basil leaves and drizzle of balsamic vinaigrette. A wine cooler was sitting on the table as well with what looked to be a white wine of some sort that Grey was fairly sure only the girls would touch, and the bread basket was waiting quietly for the golden brown breadsticks to be deposited soon enough, with a few pot mats beside it ready and awaiting the parmesan bakes when they were ready. Grey frowned as he noticed that the table was laid for six, not five, and he turned back to Jo in confusion.

“Jo?” “Yeah, hun?” “Who else is coming to dinner?”

“What?” Jo turned about from the boiling pot of water she had just turned to a simmer, and raised a brow across at him when he simply gestured to the sixth table setting. “I told you, your family is coming for dinner.”

Grey frowned in confusion as he tried to work out who she could mean, before the look twisted as he tripped over the only person he could think of who might need a seat that could fit that bill. There was no way that that was who Jo meant though, he tried to rationalize to himself as he stared at her in abject fury at the idea. There was no possible way that that could be who they were waiting on.

“Who else is coming to dinner?” He could hear himself hiss the words out in a snap, almost biting his tongue as he tried to rid his mouth of them as much as he wanted to rid his mind of the idea that had snagged. There was no way. “Jo?”

“Jesus Christ, Grey,” He watched as Jo continued to move about the kitchen, and even through the building confusion he could tell she seemed far less relaxed than earlier. Her hair was a slightly frizzy mess, clearly having worked up a bit of a sweat that boofed her hair up, and she kept rubbing her hands on the skirt front of the apron. Grey even noted she appeared to have changed into one of her nice sweaters that usually he appreciated on her figure very much, but wasn’t even able to get lost in the smooth curve of her waist and hips. Jo patted her hair down before freezing at a rather loud knock at the front door, jerking rather abruptly in a panic. “Oh of fuckin’ course he shows up right now!” The blonde cried in alarm quietly to herself, and Grey could feel the ire building as he thought his suspicions were getting confirmed.

“Hun, can you grab the step ladder please- Coming!” Jo shouted the last word out as she struggled to pull off the apron and then tuck her hair back behind her ear as she flung a hand towards where they kept the stepladder by the back door.

Grey frowned all over again at the request as he instead moved to follow the blonde down the hall, well and truly intending to slam the front door in the face of who he suspected would be on the other side and then maybe just storm up to the spare room and deal with the swirl of emotions he was feeling about Jo inviting that asshole of all people. He couldn’t leave, even if his very being was screaming at him that he would have to, but he could very well prove how much of a stupid idea such an invitation would be to the blonde for doing so. His stomach hurt as he followed after her, tying itself in knots.

That was until he noticed Jo grabbing the entry mat and rolling it up quickly, before she shoved it up against the side of the wall where it wouldn’t unroll. The movement itself was crazy - they hadn’t moved the rug since she’d brought it home with the Devil’s Trap woven into the very pattern of the rug so delicately that not even the cleverest or sharpest eye would notice it - but as Jo tugged open the door to reveal someone who was decidedly not the absolute bane of his existence, all of Grey’s pent up anger popped like a balloon.

“Hiya, sorry for the delay - oh, wow, you are so tall!” Jo’s greeting was so strange to Grey’s ear, as was the way her hands were flapping about as if to offer a hand shake and then like she thought better of it and then like her arms had jerked up intending for a hug before slamming them by her sides again. It was disarmingly adorable to watch, as was the way she seemed to flounder awkwardly under the somehow serious and dubious look she was getting from the man standing at the doorstep. “Like holy fuck, you are seriously- You’re as bad as Sam, I’m goin’ to crick my neck.” Jo babbled as she took a step back holding the door open and one of those self-conscious smiles formed on her face under the scrutiny of the taller man. “Oh, fuck, sorry, hey. Come on in- Hun where... Hunny where is the step ladder?”

Grey found all and any confusion disappear as he moved up beside Jo to be able to catch the familiar aura coming from the stranger in an instant, confirmed by the flash of gold to his eyes before it disappeared. The question and importance of it completely pushed to the back of his mind as he realized that the demon was standing in their doorway in a guise other than the massive, shaggy wolf form that had been how Grey had always known him to be. It felt truly special to be able to grin up at the other.

“Amon,” Grey smiled widely as he took a hold of the door over Jo’s head, not sure how to keep the fact that the other was there and obviously the last person meant to be joining their dinner. The fact he got a correspondingly approving head-nod and a small twitch of the lips into a smile in return felt otherworldly for a moment to him. “Hey, I didn’t realize you were going to be able to make it.”

“Jo had mentioned she was planning a dinner a few weeks back,” The taller man remarked, shrugging a shoulder as he seemed to look around the hall of the front door with a speculative look. Grey was somewhat surprised by the accent and how the other was still hovering on the door step. “She suggested that if I wished to, I’d be more than welcome to attend. I-” There was a pause as Amon’s eyes finally drifted upwards and focused on the ceiling for a long moment. “I had assumed it would be hard for everyone to accommodate the space at the dinner table had I just come as usual.”

Grey found himself biting down on the corner of his lip as he tried not to laugh at the dry humor, and was about to hold out his hand when he was suddenly pushed gently out of the way. He’d completely lost track of the blonde in his surprise, and took another step back realizing why Jo’d asked for the step ladder as she returned and set it up quickly. Amon’s eyes were focused on her for a moment, a brief flash through his eyes as the hunter climbed up the steps quickly to scrape briefly at the paint work to break the UV-painted trap that blocked the door way as a failsafe.

Holding onto the steps as soon as he realized, Grey glanced back across at the demon on the threshold before smiling as the taller man finally took a step into the house once the trap had been broken. As Jo clambered back down with a gentle punch to his shoulder, he couldn’t help but catch her hand to press a kiss against her knuckles at the surprise she’d managed to pull off.

“Well, come on in then,” Grey replied finally, and as Jo folded up the step ladder and disappeared back towards the kitchen freeing up the space in the hall, he moved to shut the front door behind the other man. As soon as it was closed, he turned before moving to pull the other in, giving a warm, welcoming hug and letting out a quiet laugh at the slow reaction from the other to return the gesture. “Jo didn’t say you were coming at all.”

“Oh?”  Amon pulled back first and clapped a hand on Grey’s shoulder in a gesture that Grey took to be both friendly and to place some space for the both of them. “She’d hinted that you’d appreciate it.”  

“Well, she said family, so I guess she did, but she managed to keep it a secret.” “I hope it was a nice surprise at least.” “Of course! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, but I’m glad you’re here.” “Likewise. I was.. surprised by the invitation.”

The arched brow from the taller man at the sounds of laughter coming from the lounge gave both of them an excuse not to ponder over the blonde’s motivation or suggestions, and Grey grinned as he waved a hand towards the door. “Well, come say hi to everyone else. You haven’t met my littlest sister yet, so watch out for her.” Grey chuckled to himself as Amon gave him a slightly sharp look at that, well aware that this was possibly the least frustrating way for the demon to meet the youngest shadow. “Your lucky, normally she might have tried to pull on your tail.”

“Ah.” There was a second of hesitance as Amon paused outside the lounge door, before Grey found himself laughing even louder as the other man’s eyes slowly turned yellow and a wolfish grin formed on the demon’s lips. “At least this way she will keep her hands at the end of the night.”

---

[aleapoffaithfiction]

XV.

"When love touches us, it dissolves the walls of misunderstanding and builds a bridge that helps us walk towards each other."-  Mimi Novic

“We’re doing the whole set today. You’re on a roll my man. Let’s finish up strong.”

Don’t ask me what the hell a gastrocnemius-soleus complex is because I certainly don’t remember it although I majored in Human Movement back at LSU. Supposedly, I should feel it all in my calf but I can’t deny how much I’m feeling the pressure in my ankle too. Rather than using a chair for support, we’re on the stairs with my hand firmly grasping the banister with both of my feet pressed down onto the bottom step.

“Come on. You got this.”

My glare swiftly panned up from the steps and landed on Sarai, who stood at the very top of them with her entire leg purposefully exposed to me. The Nike shorts she snagged out of my closet are so loose on her, that she was able to easily pull up the half leg of material to the very top of her thigh. Like a hitch hiker attempting to quickly garner the attention of a driver, she wiggled her leg and ended her antics with a wink that instantly sent my trainer and finally myself into roaring laughter. As ridiculous as it looked, it was by far, the most hilarious aspect of all of her comical actions put forth all morning long to keep me as motivated as possible during today’s physical therapy process.

As soon as my alarm went off at six, I was up to start the day and so was she. We stood together at the sink, brushing our teeth while unnecessarily splashing one another with water so either she or myself would move out of the way so one of us would be able to rinse first.

I won.

I’ve never utilized the granite bench inside of the shower until she disrobed herself and stepped inside with me. What was supposed to be a quick wash turned into a waiting time that I’m sure my trainers were not pleased with, though they patiently waited downstairs with Ben. Just the sight of her impeccable body was more than enough to further ignite my need for her. She’s a goddess in her bare state. The seamlessness in her milk chocolate skin radiates in a manner that triggers me to gawk at her and completely lose awareness of both my surroundings and daily purpose beyond our moment. It’s like waving a steak in front of a hungered wild jungle lion. I will never not pounce at the opportunity to be with her; inside her.

I left her in the room after scolding her back into the bed because she’s certainly not over the flu. The silence from the second floor influenced me to believe that she’d gone back to sleep, but when she thought I wasn’t paying attention, she crept downstairs has and been observing our current rehabilitation process ever since. I would be lying if I didn’t admit to working two or three times harder than my usual under her gaze. Her presence alone served as a motivating factor to cease the sometimes-negative state of mind I tend to fall into when I reflect on all that needs to be done to get me back out on the field. I never look forward to hearing what the media has to say about me, whether bad or good, but like anyone else within my field, I cannot help but to pay attention to it because it’s there and unless you completely shut yourself off from the world, it’s inescapable. In looking at my lady this morning, I’m looking forward to hearing what she has to say when she’s reporting about my explosiveness at training camp and the redemptive comeback season that I’m going to make sure that I have. I have to win it all. I’ve sat far too long for me to not come back and get it done.

“Good job champ. You want to take a break?”

“Nah. Let’s keep going.”

Another two and half hours went by; sending us well off into the early afternoon. Not even the smell of lunch and Sarai and Ben’s loud banter from the kitchen served as a distraction. Perspiration covered nearly every part of me as I trekked up the stairs to the bathroom for a shower and though I took one, it was pointless due to my desire to sit inside of the steam room.

When I first took a walk through of the house with the realtor, I snickered at the idea of a steam room being in the house, let alone me sitting inside of it. I’ve always looked at that as a spa type of a situation that mostly women enjoy. I’m not even into the cold or hot tub rehabilitation practices after extensive workouts at our training facility because my patience tends to wear thin after standing or even sitting there for over ten to fifteen minutes. After moving in, I would walk past it for a while without even considering giving it a try no matter how many times my momma raved about it, but after one mentally draining day earlier this year I needed some time to myself and I chose to sit in there to be away from any outside distractions in the house and most of all, from my phone.

The more technology advances, the more we’re unable to set our phones aside from an extended period of time. They’ve become our source for everything; communication, entertainment, keeping track of health, research, and just about anything else that the internet is able to aid us with. We’ve reached a point of not being able to help ourselves with the manner in which we crave to have them in our hands. We panic when the battery hits below seventy percent, we’re buying portable chargers or begging people to use theirs whenever we’re out of the house or car, and a lot of the time we’re timing just how long we’ll be somewhere based upon how much charge is left. I’m guilty of it, so I have no room to pass judgement on anyone for it. I’m trying to get better at it stepping away from it though and the steam room has been one of my forms of discipline.

With my phone sitting in some other room, I’m able to be one with my thoughts. It’s my time to sort through the clutter in my head to figure out where I’ve gone right, where I’ve gone wrong, and what needs to improve for the betterment of my mental space and what’s happening around me. There are times when I’m sitting there without much of anything to concern myself with and I’m just trying to find a place of relaxation. Today might be that. In the midst of the workout, I was able to management my thoughts. Now, I’m just trying to get these aching muscles together.

“May I join you? Maybe I can sweat the rest of this flu out.” My eyes instantly opened to stare at the beauty of Sarai’s face and I used my hand to gesture her inside. Like myself, her smooth skin was covered with a pure white towel while her braids were pulled up into a sloppy bun with a few strands of them falling all over the place.

“The little green light outside gave away your hiding place.” Her presence sitting alongside me only intensified the warmth swarming my frame. Like a magnet, my eyes glanced over at her illuminating legs as they stretched out in front of her and she blissfully sighed at the feeling of peace.

“It’s okay. I’m willing to share it with you.”

What I thought was solace prior to her presence didn’t feel quite like it does with her here now. Every exhale soothed the tension from the hours of training as the drawn-out inhales of her intoxicating scent drowned me into a drunken elation. The dampened skin of her arm brushed against mine with her slight movements, leaving trails of chills trickling onto various areas of my awakening frame. My every sense instantly became hers to control; hers to summon for anything she desires. She is my peace and yet she is a flammable fluid to the flames; igniting me for what is sure to be severe and fiery. My once tightly closed eyes, ripped open and glinted over at the calmness radiating from her and I wordlessly scolded myself for having every intention to interrupt that. My teeth wrenched my bottom lip when the tips of my fingers met the very top of the delicate towel and our glares instantly met as I unraveled it to reveal everything that I wanted.

“Come here.”

Without hesitation, Sarai stood to her feet leaving the towel idly lying on the bench and gradually straddled my lap in the exact manner that I yearned for her too upon the sight of her. Inexorably, her supple lips meshed into mine, sending a bliss spiraling through every aspect of me. My eyes closed yet again, but it wasn’t darkness I saw. Bursts of colors flashed before me, alleviating any remaining tension I may have had while melting away my awareness of anything beyond the two of us.

As soon as my lips peeled away from hers, I trailed them over any area of her moist skin that was within reach. Her hips bucked, beginning a purposeful tormenting as she grinded into my lap. Foreplay or anything of its sort were the last thing on her mind, prompting me to battle with my lead and her own.

“Don’t make me wait.” And just like that the stiffening worsened along with the tight grip I had on her hips. Just as I had reached for her towel and successfully removed it minutes ago, she was now reaching down between us for mine.

“I never do.” My tongue laved over her nipple causing a sharp hiss to spill from her lips.

With one arm lifting her up to give me just enough space, I was able to discard of my own towel. To feed my ever-going curiosity, my fingers slicked along the wetness oozing from her while unified grunts filled the steamy space around us. As my thumb strummed over her most sensitive point, the impatience worsened. Her fingers raveled into my hair, lightly tugging at it to draw me in for yet another kiss.

“You gon’ ride it?”

“Please.”

I didn’t need to hear anything else.

Within seconds, she was lowering herself onto me; sending a rush of uncontainable chills nipping at every nerve ending I have. The profanity that left me was instant. The warmth from the steam was no longer relevant because it was of no match to the heat of her throbbing flesh snugly wrapped around me. My arm locked around her waist for some form of self-composure, but I failed in what I sought out as she unhurriedly rocked to and from me. Any form of control I thought I have ceased as soon as my head met the wooden wall behind me while my eyes watched her perform.

“Damn, Sarai…” The unparalleled sensation was one thing but her damn near mythical like aura in the midst of it was sending me into a wild delirium. Her skin gleamed, under the dim lighting. The sheen of perspiration covering it only enticed me to lick at her; satisfying any thirst that I have. The perkiness lightly bouncing on her chest sent my attention span into a frenzy as I constantly panned my eyes between her face and them. I’d sound like a dickhead if I thanked God for her getting sick, which then granted me all of the time I’ve had with her this week, so I won’t. I’ll just be thankful for the time and how much we’ve been doing this since she starting feeling better.

A piercing yelp filled my ears as I pulled her down, further deepening myself into her. Shudders washed over me, leaving my mouth agape in a disbelief. I could hear Ben calling my name in a distance from the door, which prompted me to cover her mouth with my own, in a hushing kiss. While it lowered the timbre, if he stepped to and stopped in front of the door, we’d be guilty as charged. The reality of that was of no interruption to our moment or Sarai’s hips.

“Shhh…” My warning against her lips evoked a grimace to form on her gorgeous face as she pulled the bottom one in-between her teeth. With every touch of her finger tips to my scalp, an electricity nipped at my skin, shutting down any aspect of composure I was trying to keep and evoking the animalistic aspect of myself that I only know to show itself on the field. The only healthy drug that exists; she is that. My escape; she’s become that. I don’t know or realize any sense of time when she and I are together; I’ve surrendered myself completely to her without fear of any outcome that our future fate may be.

And in my addiction to every aspect of her, I am secured in knowing that I am not alone in what I feel. I know it to be true in the way that she steals glances of me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I can hear it in her tone when she’s encouraging me and recognizing the greatness that she takes pride in me having. I recognize it in the way that she looks after me while also holding me accountable to properly look after myself. I can feel it in everything; her kisses, hugs, caresses, shit right now. Right fucking now.

“Fuck!”

My throat tightened while my grip on her hips tightened even worse than they already were. It was her turn to kiss me into a muffled silence. My heart’s writhing against my chest quickened. Our hazy eyes remained locked on one another while a mutual ecstasy arose. Any self-awareness I had left relinquished itself to her world; allowing me to bask in what is unlike any other that was before her and anymore never to come. Our cries voiced out against our lips, hers before mine as I wanted it to be and yet mine soon after.

Breathlessly, I continued to kiss her as our frames shuttered, relishing in the elation.

“You think he heard us?”

“I don’t care.”

And I don’t.

Despite the sweat suit and North Face coat serving as a protective barrier over my body, the brisk whirling air swarmed and numbed me to a standstill as while I watched the doors run around the backyard area to stretch themselves out. Though it hasn’t started yet, the cloudy sky gave warning for the pending snow that should be making its presence known by sometime tomorrow morning. The weather reports are inflicting fear within the tri-state area with their eight to twelve inches predictions but I’m assured in all of it being an over exaggeration.

For the most part, since I’ve been living in New Jersey, we usually never get as much as they say we are. Sometimes, I anticipate one of those historic blizzards and the concept of being snowed in the house but the reality of the headache that is the clean-up process settles in and my mind swiftly changes. Also, being snowed in the house is only a cool situation depending upon who you’re snowed in with.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too cold out here for them?” I glanced back to find Sarai halfway outside of the sliding glass door fully dressed, but without the barrier of a coat or shoes. Just as I’d been doing, she quietly glanced up at the sky to assess the shift in the weather.

“It’s not too cold for them. It’s too cold for you. Get back in the house.”

“Did you forget that I was born and raised in Brooklyn, Nola man? I’m not fazed by the cold.”

“Yeah, but you’re not completely better yet. Don’t mess up your progress. What’s with the clothes? I thought you were just going to throw on something from my closet to longue around in.”

“I was, until I realized that it’s going to snow tomorrow. I’m going to have to drive to Brooklyn to make sure the ground is salted in front of my mom’s house. Actually, I’m probably going to have to go to the store to buy the salt. She never remembers to get any. Then there’s my house. That’s the part about being a homeowner that sucks. Usually my neighbor is kind enough to help out without me even asking him to, but I don’t want him to feel like I’m depending on him to do it.” To further disregard my request for her to go inside, she stepped out of the door just a bit more and summoned Mowgli to her with two pats to her lap.

“Your neighbor?”

“Yeah, he lives a few houses down from me. He’s damn near sixty-five years old and has a wife, who he’s been married to since he was twenty. It’s admirable.”

“Forty-five years of marriage? Wow.”

“Exactly. They’re still super smitten by one another too. He looks out for me from time to time when it comes to stuff like shoveling snow or putting ice down because he views it as a man’s job. He has that old fashion aspect to him, although I think it’s silly.”

“It’s not silly. It’s proper. I can go to your house and put the salt down. Just give me the keys. You can go to do what you need to do for your mom, so that you can come straight back here.”

“Don’t worry about it. The last thing I need is you getting hurt trying to pour salt everywhere. I have it under control. Besides, you need to spend some time with your friend. I’m sure he’s tired of seeing my face around here. I’m not one hundred percent but I feel a lot better. We can switch back to our normal roles of me as your nurse and you as my defiant patient now.”

“Ben doesn’t pay bills in my house.” My response wasn’t amusing to me, but it certainly was to her. Her laugher was loud enough for both myself and him to hear it, if he’s nearby. Last I remembered, he was sitting in the kitchen, frowning, and complaining about sometime. I wasn’t listening.

“Yeah, but he’s here visiting you. How fair is it that I’m intruding on that?”

“Intruding? I want you here.”

“And you want him here too. Be fair.”

“So, you’re going home?” I knew the answer to that question and yet I still asked though it’s the last thing that I want to hear. I thought she’d be here until she goes back to work. We don’t ever get stretched of time to be around one another in the manner that we’ve had this week and to say I’m spoiled is an understatement.

“I’m like ten minutes away. If the snow isn’t too bad tomorrow, come and see me. If not, I’ll come to see you.”

“Or you can just stay.”

“Don’t be stubborn. You’ve had me for days.”

“Hmm.” Khan darted off to retrieved the nearly deflated football I threw off to the far left. It was in a good condition days ago, before he sunk his teeth into it and put tiny holes around its perimeters.

“Don’t be like that. Come and give me a kiss.”

Rather than walking in her direction, I remained in place to purposefully taunt her with my slight irritation and pigheadedness. She remained just as amused as she’d been when I mentioned who pays my bills. It wasn’t long before I felt her warm body wrapping itself around me. Her giggles were muffled as she pressed her face into the back of my coat while clutching my as tight as she could.

“You are so stubborn. Kiss me.”

“No problem.” I lifted my arm so she’d be able to swing around to be in a closer proximity to my face and I pressed my lips into her forehead.

“Kiss my lips now.”

“Take off your pants.”

“Not those! Come on. I want to get to the store because people are ridiculous when winter storms are coming.”

To oblige her plea, I finally leaned down to give her the “see you later kiss” she needed before parting ways with me for the day. If she just stayed, we could be kissing all day long.

“I’ll call you when I get in the house.”

“Alright. Drive safely.”

“Will do, handsome. Eris, you want to come home with me?”

“No, she does not. Leave my child right where she is.”

“You’re so petty. She loves me. They all do, actually.” Though I waved her off, I know they do. She spoils them whenever she’s around and she’s starting to get them accustomed to jumping up on my furniture. We’re going to have to have a talk about that though, because they know better and they’re going to continue to know better.

“If you’re going to be a momma to my dogs, we’re going to have to split their bills. The vet, grooming, and feeding them isn’t cheap.” We smirked in unison. “I can do that, for as long as daddy is splitting momma’s bills.”

“I can do that for as long as momma is splitting on daddy’s….”

“Okay, okay, shut up! I’ll call you.” Her hands flew up in surrender at the shift in the conversation and she blew me a kiss before stepping back inside.

Aside from rehab, I really haven’t done anything this week other than shack up in the house, as old folks call it. That’s never been me. Since coming into the league, sitting still hasn’t been something I’ve been able to do and I’ve gotten so accustomed to constant movement, that I’m even doing so when I’m on my own personal time.

Whether it’s New York or L.A., there’s always something going on and I somehow find my way being a part of it. Most would attribute it to my age and lack of a personal responsibility aside from myself, but there’s also an aspect of loneliness to this life that you don’t realize until buying anything that comes to mind starts getting old, visits from the family aren’t as frequent because they have their own lives, and having your friends in your face twenty four seven isn’t as entertaining anymore.

My first three years in the league was filled with more partying than I ever experienced. I went from being a young twenty-one-year-old thinking I was coming into this solely to focus on playing football and to provide for those that I love, but that catch exposed me to a totally different aspect of all of this and I definitely got wrapped up in it. A lot of analysts now reference to me as a superstar celebrity who just so happens to be a great professional football as either a deliberate insult or as an unnecessary excuse for the poor attitude, they believe I have. I’ve had fun for sure, but there’s been something about being under the radar while dealing with my injury that has not only humbled me, but also exposed me what I wasn’t seeing in the midst of the partying and drinking.

I don’t miss it at all. It sounds crazy to even say or contemplate, but I don’t. I guess that’s what meeting the right one does to you? It’s a joke that I even laughed at Shep for the way he quickly became head over heels in love and obsessed with everything about Chanel. We used to tease him as a collective whenever he raved about her and humorously dismissed him from our childish Apex Predator’s Club but it’s really starting to feel like I’m dismissing myself too. Am I really clocking the fuck out?

Sheesh.

“Aye. Struggle Face. What the fuck we getting into now that you decided to bring yo ass up for air?”

“I’m about to make some calls for invites. Game night. Order some pizzas and wings.”

“Or we can all just go to Bowlmor Lanes.”

“That’s cool too.”

I guess getting out for some air in Manhattan could be good for me.

I pride myself on my capability to be well rounded in most sports, but bowling is equally a hit or miss. On a good day, I’m embarrassing anybody who steps up to the lanes, but tonight, I’m getting by ass handed to me by both Shep and Ben’s asses. I won the first round and I’ve been in a slump ever since. Maybe it’s because I mentally clocked out an hour ago.

“I’m so mad that we didn’t bet money. I could have been blowing a bag over at the Supreme store right now.” Because I drove, I passed on the alcohol. I’ve been babysitting this glass of strawberry lemonade for a while now. The ice already melted in it.

“I’m letting your ass win.”

“Aye Shep, you hear this sore loser?”

“You know O hates losing. He doesn’t even mind that he’s a sore loser. He’ll tell you that he’s one himself.”

“I will. I don’t mind losing here though, because this shit doesn’t count and I’m not going full out.”

“Now he’s not going full out. Man, whatever. I’m kicking your ass fair and square. You lucky I ain’t put it on the ‘gram and embarrass you even more.” Ben stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth and stuck up his middle finger at me as he chewed them. His lead isn’t even that impressive for him to be talking all of this smack, but I’ll let him have it.

“What’s been up with rehab bro? I know we touched on it before, but how’s it been going since I was last over there?”

“It’s been good. We ramped it up some more and we’re incher closer to working on stamina and agility. I still have those sore days but it’s nothing that I can’t handle. I’m just glad to be back on my feet.”

“Word. We ready for you to bring your ass back. The locker room’s been dulling without you. I been trying to hold it down, but it’s not the same.” It’s always good to hear that. This season has been a tough one to watch from home. The possibility of making it to the playoffs was nowhere near possible. Lost wise, it’s the Giants’ worse season yet. It’s been frustrating to even think about. We were already zero and four going into the game where the injury happened and not much momentum picked up from there.

“I’m working. Can’t wait to be back brother.”

“Yeah, he’s working, playing nurse, and practicing how to make kids all at once. That’s one multitalented mu’fucker.” A bit of Shep’s drink slipped out of the side of his mouth as he snickered at Ben’s slick ass commentary.

“Wait. What you mean?”

“Sarai moved in.” As soon as the lie left Ben’s lips, I sucked my teeth.

“Damn, y’all moving like that already?”

“You really believe this dumbass? She caught the flu and stayed with me until she was feeling better. Since she wasn’t going to work, it just made sense.”

“So, you’ve hung up your cleats to become a nurse now? Okay, house husband. I see you.” Their laughter came with justification. I deserve that. I did it to him for a while, so it’s only right that he does it to me. I can be a sore loser, but in this case fair is fair. The joke’s on me.

“Real funny.”

“You should have seen him. He had Renee in there making all these soups and teas and shit. He was bringing that shit upstairs to her, giving her medicine, and rubbing stink ass Vicks on her.”

“Did you do the choo choo train or the airplane when you were bringing the spoon of medicine towards her mouth?” If Victor was here, he and Shep would have been going back and forth with the jokes endlessly. I definitely miss having his guidance around. He’s still my family nonetheless.

“Ya’ll done?”

“You called me high maintenance for dating a supermodel but you’re with a sports analyst.”

“He’s dating the enemy Shep. I thought you hate the media.”

“I don’t hate the media. I just think the media doesn’t give people the opportunity to grow; well at least some of them don’t. They stick to one narrative about you no matter what you do. Other than that, it’s whatever. I have a lot of respect for plenty of the sports reporters. I love Kim Jones. Kobe and Chad are great additions. Cris Carter is cool. We speak from time to time.”

“But everybody loves Sarai Nazaire though. I’ve never anyone say a bad thing about her. If anything, dudes have been plotting on ways to get at her. You saw Otto at Chanel’s party.” Of course, he’d bring that up. He’s just as entertained by it now as he was that night.

“That’s not important.” I’ve heard more than enough of it. She’s locker room talk no matter where you go. Her name will randomly come out of someone’s mouth at a social gathering and most of all, when I’m surrounded by a bunch of guys who can’t help but to shift the topic of conversation to women they’re trying to turn into another notch on their belts. It’s no lie that she’s a popular name within those conversations, but the part that always remained interesting was her lack of acknowledgement and attentiveness to it. It’s what made them deem her to be intimidating and arose questions of whether she’s a “bitch” in person or not. Of course, she’s never been anything of that sort, which worsened plenty of desires.

I get it. When I was sitting across from her during the interview we did up in Bristol, I could barely focus on what she was saying. My mind was on everything about her other than her words, but by the grace of God I was able to pay attention just enough not to expose myself. Granted, I made the running joke of a video about guys who lust over her, so I wasn’t as composed as I wish I was.

“Does your mom like her?”

“Yeah, she loves her.”

“Yeah, probably because she has a legit job. I can’t say the same thing for all of your past situations.”

“Keep talking shit and you gon’ have frost bite all over yo’ ass from being kicked out in the snow.”

I finally gulped down enough of the watered-down lemonade to leave the glass half filled. My phone vibrating in my pocket captured my attention next.

I miss you.

I wasn’t expecting that. I figured she’d had enough for me for the week, hence why she left but clearly not. I can’t suppress my smile even if I tried to.

I miss you too.

I missed her as soon as she left me standing outside with the dogs.

I grabbed a couple of things from the grocery store and couldn’t help but to grab your favorite snacks. Maybe you can stop by for a little while?

Sarai’s about to have me go out like a sucker in front of my friends. Shit.

I’ll be there in less than an hour.

“I know that look. That boy is out of here. Ben look at him. He’s about to bail out.”

“We’re done playing anyway.”

“We paid for two more games. You really about to leave? If you do, I’m never going to stop making fun of you. Oh, and I’m replacing you with young Shep as a friend. This man is getting married and he’s sitting right here.”

“By the time you get back to the house, I’ll probably already be there. Don’t sweat it. I’ma bust your ass in Call of Duty before the night is over.”

“Nah, we done. I’m never coming back up here again. I’m keeping my ass in Florida.”

“You’ll be back.” I had to laugh. His over exaggeration never ends.

“Yeah, but not to visit yo’ sucker for love ass.”

“Shep, I’m gon’ plan something at the house right before Christmas. Maybe two or three days before. Come through.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You want me to drop you off at the house or yall gon’ stay and play those games?”

���I got him. We’ll play and head back.”

“I’m bringing a gang of bitches back to your crib with me.”

“Whatever.”

As soon as I pulled my hood over my head, I stood up from the table and began to quickly make a dash towards the exit. The pending snow fall left the place without as much of a crowd as they usually have, which allowed me to not be approached by anybody for anything. I usually don’t mind it, but sometimes people don’t understand when you want to have a moment of normalcy without having to stop for pictures. It almost starts to feel like you’re in a fish bowl or like you’re a zoo animal caged in with all of these spectators just looking at you and waiting for you to do something to entertain them. Any moment where I can be out on the scene alone or with people without much hassle is a moment that is appreciated tremendously. I already have slight paranoia of what that type of stuff will be like when I’m a parent and I’m out somewhere with my kid or kids.

Rather than taking the Henry Hudson Parkway straight to Fort Lee, I took New York-495 West into New Jersey 495 West because it was the better route and had no traffic whatsoever. That less than an hour time frame I gave her was a promise kept because I was parked on her street no more than thirty-five minutes after my departure from the city. Yet again, my hood was over my head as I jogged up her steps. Aside from the elevator, another great aspect of Sarai’s house is the view of the river. I always take a glance at it while I’m standing outside. Tonight, it looks even better with all of the holiday lighting covering all of the houses. Her banisters are wrapped with white lights and there’s a wreath perfectly hanging on her door.  

“I didn’t think you’re get here this fast.” Our kiss was short and sweet. I could taste whatever chocolate she was enjoying. “And you drove the Rolls Royce. Really?”

“It’s usually the only one I drive.” It’s always funny to see her in Giants gear. It takes me back to when she questioned me about my assumptions of her being a fan or not.

“In front of my door though?”

“Sometimes you’re a bit too humble about who you are. It’s never going to be a surprise that you know people with money. Something smells good. You cooked?”

She stood there and continued to eye my car as I followed the fume of whatever was coming from the kitchen. I had wings while bowling but I have more than enough room for whatever that is.

“Shrimp alfredo. I made a Caesar salad too. Wine is on the counter.”

“I’m on it. Thank you, baby.”

“Uh huh.”

She stood at the door for as long as I was in the kitchen it seems because when I was on my way to the living room with my plate, she was entering with me. The dim lighting set the mood for whatever movie she had on pause.

“What were you watching?”

“The Preacher’s Wife. Whitney is so flawless in this.”

“This is a good one. I’d probably say The Grinch is one of my favorites, but I just enjoy watching A Christmas Story with my step-father Derek because he laughs at it like he’s never seen it before. I mean, he laughs until he has tears in his eyes and it just makes me laugh.”

“I laugh at it too. Ralphie is hilarious. My dad loved that movie.”

In the midst of me stuffing my face with arguably the best alfredo I’ve had aside from my aunt’s; Sarai became one of those people who everyone hates to watch a movie with. If she wasn’t mumbling along to every line that came out of Whitney Houston’s mouth, she was singing along to the songs while bopping that small head of hers. I had to tune her out when she began to rave about how fine Denzel Washington is because I’ve heard enough of that from my momma. He’s absolutely one of the elite actors’ period, I don’t even need to mention his blackness, but there’s a universal attraction to him amongst women of all age groups. He and Idris Elba are always the ones being mentioned.

“Baby.”

“Hm?” I noticed it when I sat down earlier, but it became all I could focus on once I returned from putting my empty plate into the kitchen. While her porch looked as festive as it needs to be, the blandness of the Christmas tree sitting in the corner of the room didn’t make much sense. Around it is boxes of what I’m assuming are the decorations that are supposed to be on it and rather than having the Christmas stockings hanging from her fireplace, they’re randomly piled up together on top of it.

“Why haven’t you decorated the tree? The porch looks great, but what happened in here?”

“I don’t know.” It was mumbled dismissively. She didn’t even bother to look in the direction of the tree.

“You didn’t have time or something?”

“I guess not.”

“Or you didn’t remember to do it?”

“That too.”

“Or you were planning to do it right before Christmas Eve?”

“Exactly.”

“Sarai.” I used the tips of my fingers to turn her head towards me. I kept her jaw lightly in my grasp to stop the frivolous lies in response to my questions. Eye contact became a challenge because she chose to look past me instead of looking directly at me. The once joyous expression on her face as she did her best to match Whitney’s unparalleled tone morphed into an anguished that she did not want me to see or experience. The glossiness in her eyes stifled me.

“It was a tradition between my dad and I. We used to do it together every year. I lost interest in it.” Guilt punched me in the gut at full force.

Her answer was already playing in my mind before she said it. Sorrow only fills her eyes at the subject of him. Typically, she grimaces in frustration when speaking about her mother. The strain between the two of them is a subject she tends to avoid but I’ve picked up on bits and pieces of it. For her sister, she’s usually rolling her eyes and scoffing at the manner in which they’re polar opposites. For her father, his death still torments her as if it happened just a few months ago or less. There’s a void within her life that leaves the pain of his loss weighing on her shoulders and hanging over her like the darkest cloud. The avoidance makes sense.

“What if you and I make decorating the tree our tradition? We’ll continue it together. The memories of you and your dad will always be special. I’d like to honor that with you by breathing life into the tradition again.” The questioning glare she held eased into a quiet contemplation with her own thoughts about my suggestion. If she turns it down, I’m okay with that. I’ll never force it.

“You can say no. I’m okay with that. I won’t push it.”

“There has to be hot chocolate with a lot of marshmallows in it. I’d usually bake cookies. I don’t have any cookie dough in here but I do have those butter cookies that comes in the tin can. You know the ones black moms keep everything but cookies in? Motown Christmas has to be on. My mom isn’t biased and can listen to anyone sing holiday music but for him, it always had to be Motown. Oh, and hats. They’re a must.”

“Okay, I’ll put on the water for the hot chocolate and I know Apple Music has to have the Motown stuff. We can do all of that.” A rush of excitement urged me to leap off of the couch and dash towards the kitchen.

“There’s no need to put water on. I have a Keurig. The box of Swiss Miss k-cups is in the first cabinet. The marshmallows are in there too.” We were a distance away but I heard her loud and clear. While the first cup brewed, I used my phone to look for the music we’d need to really set the mood for what we’re about to do. I don’t know the first thing about decorating a tree because my momma always does it for me, but I’m about to make Sarai’s look like something out of a catalog for the sake of seeing her smile.

“I found a bunch of albums baby. Which one?” “The one with the purple cover. It should have clouds and flowers on it too with something like a picture frame in the middle. I think that’s one of the better albums.”

“The one with The Temptations, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, and Diana Ross and The Supremes?”

“That’s the one.”

I connected my phone to the Beats Pill she keeps in the kitchen to use while she’s preparing for something and hit play on the album she specifically requested. Michael Jackson’s childhood voice blared into the kitchen’s space immediately. As she dug through the boxes, I left the speaker and my phone in the living room so I’d have free hands for the cups of hot chocolate. Within minutes, I returned with those, with marshmallows spilling over just how she requested it.

“So how do we start this?”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about lights because it’s already pre-lighted with color and clear LED lighting, so I guess we just have to put the other stuff on.”

“Why do you have an artificial tree instead of a real one?”

“Because they shed and I’m not a fan of the smell.”

“Not a nature kind of a girl huh? Noted.”

“No, so don’t ever think you’re taking me camping.” Aloofly, her fingers scratched at her braids while we stood in place attempting to visualize exactly how this tree is supposed to look. I guess you just throw garland on it or something, right?

“Well, maybe we should figure out the color scheme first?”

“I have red and white ornaments, red and gold ones, or red and green. They’re sets and they’re all separated. Which set?” Is this supposed to be so complicated?

“All of them?” Our eyes met while I shrugged. It makes sense. They’re all Christmas colors.

“Okay. I guess it could work.”

Her once tidy living room began to look like a holiday catalog vomited in it as we dumped boxes of decorations everywhere in an attempt to figure out what we were going to do. Once those hats were secured on our heads, we frolicked in silver and gold garland while vocally butchering one song right after another. I didn’t realize I knew so many holiday classics until now.

“Alright, so these are tree picks. You just randomly place them anywhere. Just make it look good, I guess.”

“So, in here?” I stuck one in the velvety red petals into the tree and slapped my hands together to rid them of the gold glitter that donned the edges of the petals.

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Baby, what’s that Run DMC Christmas song?”

“Christmas in Hollis.”

“That’s the one.”

I grabbed my phone to make the switch and just as she knew I would, I start dancing around the living room. I hit any old school dance that came to mind with my camera on to capture it as I did so. She didn’t leave me out to dry. Once all of her laughing was over with, I had a dancing partner yet again. She one upped me by knowing the lyrics, so I had no choice but to go harder in the dancing area.

“Mariah! We have to hear Mariah next.”

“You have to perform it though. Lip sync battle.” “Put it on.”

She may not be able to sing like Mariah. That New York Giants may not be what anyone would consider holiday comfort wear. The sloppy bun she pulled her braids up into may not be what most would consider an ideal hairstyle. They can all go to hell too. All five foot five inches of her danced around the living room in what is by far the most flawless performance of the infectious song. An empty tube that once held golden ball ornaments was her microphone and I was the affection of her eye. I drowned into her essence so much that every lyric suddenly felt like they were written for and about me. The gleam in her eyes illuminated the living room far more than the lights beaming from the tree and the heated glare of the fireplace. Her smile? Infectious. My cheeks were beginning to ache because of my own. I’m never doing karaoke with her.

“Your turn!”

“Nah, you got it.”

“Oh, come on. Pick a song.”

“I’d fall flat after that”

“You better not show anyone that video either. I know I look dumb as hell.”

“You look adorable.” A light mush to my head came instantly.

With an arm hanging over her shoulder, we stood together and observed the work we’d done on the tree. I’m not sure what else we could add. We’ve been at it for hours, putting stuff on, taking some off, and replacing it with what we thought would look better. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, and whatever else.

“Wow.”

“Right.”

“That looks…”

“Like shit.”

“Right.”

We cackled knowingly. It looked like crap all along and yet we continued with carelessly placing all that she had anywhere we saw fit to place it. We had no real strategy or methodology. We sought out fun and that’s what won in the end.

“It’s our shit though.” That prompted me to kiss her forehead. “I needed this. Thank you.”

“I don’t need a thank you. I’m just glad we did it. We can fix it in the morning.”

“No, it’s staying just like that. It’s so funny.” I think Charlie Brown’s struggle tree might look better than the clutter we have sitting in the corner of the room.

“What would happen after you finished decorating the tree?”

The curtains were drawn back just enough to display the falling snow outside. The flakes were thick and beautifully cascading to the thin sheet covering ground.

“A movie; usually my pick.”

“Well, what’s your pick.”

“A Miracle On 34th Street, with ice cream.”

“We’re going from hot chocolate to ice cream?”

“Yes. I’ll fix it. You put the movie on. It’s already in my purchases on the Apple TV.”

Under a red and black flannel throw, we closely curled up on her plush couch with chocolate fudge sundaes. Mine was practically melting as the bowl rested on the coffee table near the sectional. Our legs intertwined at random points while she laid back against my chest savoring every remaining bit in her own bowl. As if she’d never seen it before, her concentration on the film never faltered but I was only able to massage her scalp through her braids while mentally reliving this entire week, including tonight’s festivities.

Shep’s question at Chanel’s birthday party came to mind. I couldn’t and didn’t answer it then.

New York has never felt like home until now. Everything I feel is so peculiar and yet so addicting. It’s absolute, with indescribable and infinite measures. In the midst of a time that I thought would be traumatic and chaotic, I’ve found an unimaginable peace that I have innately gravitated towards and come to cherish more than just about anything else going on in my life. What felt like a bleak future beyond my professional life has now opened up sharp visions of a path to take that will ultimately lead me to a fulfillment. I’ve gone from dreaming about what life would be life with the woman I came to admire on my television screen to now never wanting to envision life without her.

I’ve always heard to love is to genuinely want more for someone than you could ever want for yourself and there’s nothing more that I want than for her to have all of the goodness this shallow world has to offer.

Without being hesitant or unnerved I can confirm his question. It’s without a doubt.

[ofsinnersandsaints]

let me love you

rating: E word count: 3006 one shot

AO3

Karen comes home to her boyfriend drunk and a little horny; Frank is recovering from an injury and is more than happy to let Karen take control.

Karen came home from the bar-one beer and two shots of tequila more than she’d been planning to have-feeling just a little buzzed, and more than a little horny.

And wasn’t it just her luck there was an incredibly handsome and wounded man lying in her bed?

Sure, Frank was a little injured, but the knife wound to his shoulder and side were hardly the worst thing he’d ever experienced, and she was more than willing to do all the work.

“Have fun with Foggy?” Frank asked when she walked into the bedroom. He was practically flat on his back, the pretty flower pillows under him looked absurd, but he still looked like the strongest man she’d ever seen.

“I did.” She started unbuttoning her shirt, pulling it out of the tight pencil skirt she wore. “He’s thinking about proposing to his girlfriend and I think he wanted someone to talk him out of it.”

“Did you?” he asked, his eyes practically a physical thing as he watched her unzip the skirt and let it drop.

“Of course not.” Karen walked to the bed and put her knee on the mattress, swinging one leg over his body so she straddled him. “He’s stupid in love with her and she’s good for him. He was very angry when I offered to help him pick out a ring.”

Frank smiled, but he seemed a little distracted by the open shirt and nude colored bra she wore.

“How much did you drink?” he asked, almost wary.

She grinned and put her hands on his body, amazed at how beautiful he was. Did he know? Could he possibly know how breathless he made her?

“I could look you at forever, Frank.”

“So it was liquor, huh?” Karen laughed and looked up at his face was which more bemused than anything. They’d been together long enough he knew her reactions to alcohol. Beer, she got feisty. Liquor, she got frisky.

“You’re aware I’m a wounded man?”

Her hands found the stitches, no longer covered with gauze but still an angry wound. She hadn’t been there when the knife had found him, but he’d come to her afterwards, blood seeping between his fingers and she’d called Claire to patch him up.

Now the color was back in his face and he didn’t need any help getting out of bed.

Maybe if she was a little bit more sober and had the capacity for forethought she would have called Claire to make sure Frank was up for sex, but Karen had seen Frank do much more with worse. And if he said no, she’d take it as gospel and order cupcakes.

“I’m aware,” she finally answered. “But don’t worry, I’m going to take care of everything. You just lie back.”

“Karen, you know I-“

“Like to be in charge?” she finished for him even as she leaned forward to kiss him, slow and a little sloppy. When she pulled away he followed, trying to restart the kiss and Karen got a little thrill from the power of it. “I’m aware, but I promise, this won’t hurt a bit.”

“I’m not entirely sure you can promise that,” he growled, reaching up to cup her ass.

With a grin Karen took his hand and put it back on the bed. “I’m doing the work, which means no touching.”

“Fuck that, Karen.”

She shook her head, blonde hair falling down around her, “No. Fuck you.”

Beneath her, with only sweat pants and a scrap of cotton separated them, she felt him get hard.

Proud of herself, Karen braced her hands on the brass headboard which brought her close enough to kiss him with the added benefit of keeping her body off his. She might be a terrible person for teasing an invalid, but she was sure the universe would understand.

God, she loved kissing him. He was hard angles and demanding tongue, even here there was nothing a hundred percent soft about him. But she could be soft, and slowed the kiss to something almost sultry, a heady kind of seduction which pulled her in as easily as it did him.

He wanted more, she could tell by the way he attempted to angle the kiss and deepen it, but every time he tried she pulled back to the sound of him growling his displeasure. But he never lifted his hands off the bed.

Now she understood why he liked her tied up and vulnerable.

Settling back on his erection, so it was lovely torture for them both, she let her hands explore his body. Up to his shoulders, down his biceps, across his stomach. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He snorted.

She glared at him, “I’m serious.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You don’t believe me?” Karen leaned forward and put her hands on his chest, careful not to put any pressure on the wound. “You look like you were sculpted out of something harder than marble, unbreakable. Some storyteller told an artist about a demi-god,” she pressed a kiss to his lips, his collarbone, his sternum, where beneath she could swear she felt his heart beat. “And the sculptor was so inspired they created you out of their own imagination.”

“Karen.”

He sounded awed, and she liked the sound of her name on his lips. “Don’t even get me started on the specific parts of you I like. Your hands,” she brought up one scarred knuckle and kissed it.  “Your shoulders,” she kissed each one.

“My hands and my shoulders?” he sounded incredulous but not unaffected.

“Your legs.”

“You’re really drunk.”

Karen shook her head, determined to convince him. “I remember the trial, when you wore the suit.”

“What about it,” he asked and he sounded a little out of breath. His erection was rock hard beneath her and she started to move against it. Slow, rocking motions of her hips and his hands clenched tightly in fists at his side.

“I can’t tell you how attractive you looked, there just aren’t words for it. The way it fit your shoulders, how you looked strong and capable. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“You were still dating Matt.”

“Not really,” she argued, not that it mattered. “And even if I was I still would have gone home and gotten off to the image of you in the suit.”

This time his hands did move, clenching tightly on her thighs.

Karen ground down on his cock and his hips bucked against her.

“You got off thinking about me?” his voice was a deep gravel.

She took her shirt off now, but only so could take off her bra. His fingers dug into her skin because she hadn’t given him permission to touch her, and to reward him for the restraint she took one hand and placed it over her breast.

Is this what he felt like every time he took control? A surge of power and protection, of pride and wonder? She’d been guided by his hands so many times in their relationship and she hoped he was feeling just a piece of that now; of love and trust and desperation.

“More than once,” she admitted, her hips moving faster now that Frank was kneading her, his thumb pressing hard against her nipple. “But that night? Yes. I came home, mad at you for throwing your case away, but so turned on I could hardly think straight.”

“What did you think about? How did you get yourself to come?”

“I thought about what would have happened if we’d had time alone in the courtroom, you in that suit, me in my dress. I pictured you laying me out on the defense table, pushing my dress up, driving into me. I used my vibrator but it was your hands I pictured. I came so fucking hard, Frank.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

“Nope,” she argued, popping the p as she shook her head. “Can’t have the night nurse mad at me so you’re going to have to survive this.”

He made a little sound of frustration and she realized he must have tweaked the wound while holding onto her but she trusted him, and they had their safe words. If he needed to stop or slow down, he’d say the word. “You can’t wait till I’m healed?”

Karen shook her head again. “I kind of like having you at my mercy.”

She was wet, and she wanted to be riding him, but she liked the idea of drawing out his pleasure, of making herself the center of his world. So Karen shifted on his legs, moving down to his knees and taking his sweatpants with her.

“Christ, Karen. What are you doing?”

She smiled at him as she leaned over his lap, hoped it came out as sexy and wicked as she wanted it to. “Enjoying myself.”

Then she took him in her mouth and he cursed sharply, his hips rising up suddenly, but she was expecting it, knew he always got a little wild when she got on her knees.

She licked up his length, her tongue toying with the head of his cock, keeping her hands on his thighs in an absurd effort to keep him pressed against the mattress. “You can touch me,” she whispered and his hands were immediately in her hair.

He tried to guide her mouth, her tempo, but she resisted, wanting to draw it out as long as possible.

And still she kept touching him; fingertips on his knees, palms along his abs, lips tight on his shaft.

“God fucking damnit,” she heard him mutter as he lifted himself off the bed and deeper into her throat. Karen took him in, relaxing her throat in a way which had become second nature. His hand tightened almost painfully in her hair and she had to resist the urge to put her hands between her legs to get herself off.

She was so wet.

Frank pulled her off of him, the sound making a kind of popping noise and when she looked at him he was flushed, his chest rising with deep, erratic breathing.

He’d never been sexier.

“Don’t ever leave me,” she found herself saying.

“Never,” he promised. “Please, Karen. I need to be inside you.”

She needed it too.

Karen got off the bed to pull the pants completely off Frank and then wiggled out of her underwear.

They’d had the discussion about condoms weeks ago and came to the conclusion that since it was just them-and it would always be just them-they’d forgo them since she was on the pill and right now she couldn’t be happier they’d already had that conversation because she wanted nothing between them as she slid onto him.

Straddling him again, she reached down to guide him to her entrance, taking him inch by torturous inch.

When he tried to rush the process, the hand of his good arm grabbing her waist she stopped completely and he bit out a curse she was fairly certain was from another language.

“That was a new one,” she pointed out as if they were eating dinner on the couch instead of naked in her bed, his cock half buried inside her cunt.

“Sometimes English doesn’t cut it,” he bit out. “Come on, Karen, take all of me. I know you can.”

Another quarter of an inch and her legs were beginning to shake; she wouldn’t be able to hold this position long but damn, it felt good.

“I know I can too,” she told him. “But I’m seducing you.”

“Consider me seduced,” he informed her darkly. “Now, fuck me.”

Karen smiled. “Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I say no?”

She lowered herself down, feeling fuller with every bit of him she took inside her. It could be the alcohol talking, but she was pretty certain she’d never get over the feel of him. “Oh my, God.”

“You’re so fucking wet.”

Her grin was a little embarrassed as she admitted, “I was thinking about this on way back.”

“We need to start keeping tequila in the house,” he ground out and she laughed, leaning forward to kiss him because he was alive and there and hers to kiss.

“Then it’s not a special occasion. I’m going to start fucking you now.”

“Thank God.”

Keeping his wound in mind, Karen braced herself on the horizontal metal bars of her headboard instead of his chest, and began to move her hips up and down, keeping the pace brutally slow.

“Touch yourself,” he panted, his hands coming up to cover the tops of thighs. “I want to see you come.”

She was hardly in a place to tell him no, so turned on by her own thoughts and Frank’s cock buried so deep in her pussy; she was as desperate for release as he was.

Reaching between her legs she found her clit and began pressing it in tight circles, quickly winding herself up and it took her a moment for her to realize Frank was lifting his hips to fuck into her as she rode him.

“You’re supposed to stay still.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to be still with you riding me like this?” he asked and she nearly smiled at the frustration in his voice.

“You’re supposed to be receiving, not giving.”

“If you think my fucking into you isn’t one hundred percent selfish you’ve got no idea what you look like riding my cock.”

Karen stopped moving, suddenly desperate to hear how she looked to him. “Tell me. Tell me what I look like.”

“You look like the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen. When you get into it, your mouth falls open a little and makes me want to fill it, to fuck your mouth until you have to swallow everything I give you but that would mean pulling out of your pussy and there’s no way in hell I’m doing that. You look like ecstasy and you sound like every erotic dream I’ve ever had. And all that skin,” he ran his hands up her body, across her stomach and up to her breasts. “Pale and white. If I bruised you, it would show so easily on skin like this. If I marked you, it would last for weeks.”

She came at his words, a deep and sharp orgasm which tightened her entire body. “God, Frank.”

“That’s right,” but he kept driving up into her, replacing her hand with his because she couldn’t concentrate enough to keep it up. She held onto the bed as they moved with each other, a fast and frantic pace. “Another one, one more.”

She held back a whimper, but only barely. “I thought I was in charge here.”

“Oh, trust me sweetheart, you are. If you come around me, I won’t be able to help myself.”

Karen rode him, felt him bottom out inside her again and again, and she wished they were in a position for him to hit her g-spot because she just knew if he so much as brushed up against it right now she’d scream to wake the dead. Jesus, even thinking about it nearly had her coming.

“You’re so beautiful Karen,” he whispered, hands tightening on her. “You’re so beautiful fucking me, riding me. I want to watch you come again, I want to feel you around my cock.”

He continued talking dirty, and Karen knew she’d lost control but she was happy to let him lead her over this last orgasm, a lightning strike inside of her.

Frank pumped into her a few more times and then followed her over the edge. When he said her name it was a strangled cry and Karen nearly came again at the sound alone.

For a moment she held onto the bed, just trying to catch her breath, and as soon as she could see straight she laid down next to him, most of the buzz gone from her body. “That was fun.”

“I’m going to need an extra three days just to recover from that.”

She laughed and got up to go to the bathroom, “Thank Foggy’s insecurity.”

When she came back out Frank went in, coming back to the bedroom with his sweatpants on again. He tossed her a nightgown he must have grabbed the closet and she pulled it on. “He said if Marci says yes he wants me to be best man because, and I quote, if I’m going to encourage this ‘disaster fire of a relationship I have to sit in the front row.’”

“He’s not going to ask Matt?”

“He will be a groomsmen because Foggy’s not sure he can trust Matt to be there when he’s supposed to be there. Again, all this is depending on Marci saying yes.”

“Which you think she will?”

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t proposed to him already. Will you turn the light off?”

When he flicked the switch down she was half ready to propose to him, and heard the smile in his voice as he walked back towards the bed. “Ready to pass out already, huh?”

“I don’ know what it is about tequila,” she complained, shifting on the bed until she could get under the covers. “Two hours after the first shot and I’m ready for a coma.”

“Just going to fuck me and then roll over and go to sleep, huh?” Frank teased and Karen snorted a laugh as she snuggled into the pillow.

“I’d apologize if you hadn’t enjoyed it so much.”

“I know you just keep me around for my body,” he said dryly as he settled on the mattress next to her.

“Yeah,” Karen agreed, barely able to keep her eyes open. “If Foggy marries Marci would you go to the wedding with me?”

“Yeah, it’s a date. But you probably shouldn’t drink tequila at the wedding.”

She moved forward in the half light, kissing him on the cheek before settling herself on top of him. “I’ll save it for the after party.”

[weelittleweasley]

Leather Skirt | Sweet Pea x Reader

Sentence Prompt Number(s): 18, 19, 20

Stop biting your lip, you’ll draw blood.

I want your hands on my body.

I don’t care who the fuck is watching.

Request status: OPEN!

Warnings: Smut, profanity

Dangling upside down off of Betty’s bed, you watch as she scans through her closet, trying to find something to wear for tonight. She throws skirts and blouses all around, each one a pastel color or embroidered with a floral design. Betty said she wanted to look “hot for Jug,” but nothing in her closet yelled “sex pot.” She continued to push clothes aside, hoping something would show up magically. 

“Is a denim skirt too casual?” she questions, holding up a light wash one against her waist, examining how it would look.

You shrug, “It’s a high school party. I don’t think anyone is thinking about proper dress attire.” Betty rolls her eyes and continues to skim her closet. Your phone buzzes next to your head and you grab it to see who texted.

Where r u? I told u to come @ 9

Sighing, you quickly respond to your boyfriend’s text. He always got a little antsy when you didn’t let him know what you were up to or where you were. Be there soon, love. “Betty, let’s get this show on the road please,” you beg.

Betty turns to you, “It’s not like anyone shows up to these parties on time. It’s just 9:05 now. We’d be the first ones there and that makes us look desperate. Now help me pick out shoes.”

She disappears into her closet yet again as your phone lights up with yet another text from your boyfriend. Define soon. I wanna see u in that leather skirt u were telling me about ;). A small smile creeps up on your face as you bite your lip. Your phone buzzes with another text from him, Send me a pic.

You peel yourself from Betty’s bed and take a mirror picture of what you were wearing to this party. A tight, white body suit paired with a leather skirt. It wasn’t something you’d normally wear, but it made you feel sexy and confident. Sweet Pea loved when you felt like this--you saw yourself in the same light he saw you.

Seconds later and there is an instant reply from him. Jesus Christ, doll. You giggle at his message, but before you can concoct a response he sends another text. Those would look even better on my bedroom floor. 

You suck in a breath, biting down on your lip. Whenever Pea spoke like this, it’d drive you nuts. He knew that if he could get you worked up, it’d force you to come over to the party quicker and he’d have you wrapped around your finger for the rest of the night. You hesitantly start to type back, Don’t start with me now. 

You know he has a shit eating grin on his face wherever he was--he knew he had won. As those three little dots appear on your screen, you carefully seat yourself on Betty’s bed as she searches for her other sneaker. Why shouldn’t I? You know I want my hands on your body, baby. Do you want that?

Gulping, you feel the air around you grow thick and your face heats up. He had a way with words and not in the sense people were usually used to. Dragging your fingers across your keyboard, you sent a yes to your boyfriend before he says, Tell me what you want. Lemme hear it.

In your head, a million thoughts start to fly around, causing your heart to race. Images and memories of touches resurface making your mouth dry. You never gave into Sweets’ temptations over text, but there was something tonight that made you feel a little braver. It could have been the skirt. But you convinced yourself that you’d try something different tonight. I want your hands on my body you type and send. Patiently, you wait for his reply.

Get your ass over here now he replies.

“Stop biting your lip, you’ll draw blood,” Betty teases you as you slap her arm. “Now let’s get a move on.”

The car ride to the party was fairly uncomfortable. You couldn’t help but think about what Pea had planned for that night. Was he drunk? Or was he dead sober? How was this gonna happen? Were you just gonna have sex in someone else’s room? That didn’t seem ideal. Or were you gonna arrive to the party just to leave? That didn’t seem ideal either. The ride was over in what seemed like seconds, your thoughts occupying you.

As you made your way up to the front door of the house, Betty lightly laughs, “Are you okay, Y/N? You didn’t speak the whole car ride here.” You nod your head and give a breathy yeah. “Alright...” she trails off, knowing that something was up.

Before you could reveal to Betty what may happen tonight, or what was going to happen, the door swung open to reveal Jughead. “Ladies,” he smiled, talking over the loud music before embracing Betty, placing a kiss on her forehead. You follow the both of them inside, inspecting your surroundings of the house. There were more people than you expected here, North and South Side kids alike. 

Walking further into the house, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a pair of hot lips kiss at the skin of your neck. A smile creeps up on your face as you giggle, “Well, who could that be?” you tease. 

Sweet Pea spins you around you face him before pressing his lips to yours. “You look even better in person,” he whispers against your lips. He kisses you again a little more forceful this time, making sure you got the message loud and clear. He wanted you tonight just as much as you wanted him. You kissed him back harder, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, massaging his with yours. His hands trailed down to squeeze your ass as you let out a little gasp. He chuckled, pressing your body into his.

His calloused palms run over your backside before finding their way under your skirt, teasing the lace material of your panties. You push him away abruptly. “Baby, not here. Not where everyone can see us,” you tell him, fingers still tangled in his hair.

Then, he dips his head down to your ear, “I don’t give a fuck who is watching,” he growls huskily, making your crave for him grow. “I could give a damn if everyone watch me fuck you right here,” he grinds his hips against yours, “right now.” Your mouth falls dry as you begin to take a quicker pace of breath. “Follow me,” he grabs your hand, whisking you away upstairs.

Upstairs, there are a few rooms to chose from and of course, you want the most secluded, but he wants the room that’s closest to the stairs so everyone can hear what you two were up to. Without knocking, Pea barges in to a room and dismisses a couple who had arrived before you. The younger boy scurries out with his lady, making the room available for you two. 

“You're such an ass,” you laugh as you enter the room, Pea shutting the door behind you.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s having sex with me,” he grins before pushing you against the door, pressing hot open mouthed kisses down your neck. He wastes no time, and neither do you, pushing clothes off of each other, each garment falling to the floor in a hurry. He was so eager to do this, it made it seem like a life or death situation. But you couldn’t blame him. You wanted him just as badly, peeling off every clothing item off of him. All of your worries seemed to melt away as you melted underneath his touch. Pea pulls of your skirt and your panties in one go, leaving them dangling around your ankles. Sweets doesn’t bother laying you on the bed; he was gonna take you right like this. Just the way he liked.

He dug into his jeans’ pocket before finding a condom, ripping the wrapping off so harshly it could have ripped the rubber. Slowly, he rolled it onto his member, careful not to break it. Too frustrated that he was moving too slow, you had wrapped your legs around his waist, ready for him. He let out a small chuckle before sliding his hard length into you. A melody of sighs erupts from both of your mouths as he buries his face into your neck, kissing the soft flesh. “Move, baby,” you encourage him after you’d adjust to his size. After he prompted, Sweets moved his hips, falling into a rhythm. He releases a throaty moan, the sound reverberating on your soft skin. His grip on your waist tightens, pushing your hips into his every thrust. “Faster,” you whisper. “Come on, baby.”

Pea’s movements speed up, each thrust quicker and harder than the last, finding that spot that drove you nuts. You moan out as one of Pea’s hands starts to grope your left breast. “Go ahead,” he encourages. “Call out my fucking name. Let everyone know who makes you feel good.”

“Oh my God, Sweets, fuck,” you cry out as he drags a lazy thumb across your swollen clit. “Don’t stop, b-baby. Fuck,” you pant. Seeing you as a writhing mess underneath him drove Pea wild. Your face flushed and mouth agape. You were a fucking stunner. 

Biting on your neck, Pea says in between thrusts, “You feel so good. Your tight little pussy wrapped around my fat cock. You like that?” You nods your head feverishly. “Say it out loud.”

Screwing your eyes shut, you pant, “I love it when you fuck me like this.” 

“Good girl,” he moans. Soon enough, his thrusts become more sloppy and less rhythmic meaning he’s close. And you were there with him, that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. Pea can tell you’re close and he speaks, “Come, baby. Come all over my dick.”

Only a few moments later do you release all over him, Pea finishing a few seconds later. He always wanted you to come first, so he could watch you finish. Your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, eyes closed shut, lips parting. Just the sight of it could make him come. 

The two of you remain in that position, you wrapped around him, him holding you against the door, before you peel your sweaty body off of him. You remain in silence as you clean up after yourself, the two of you still catching your breath. After you clean up, you start to slide your panties back on, but Pea slaps your ass. “I want you wearing that skirt every. damn. day. You hear me?” he growls as you laugh.