#fuck holy fuck fucking never felt so drunk and sloppy in my life without actually taking a single sip

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Can you do 21 from prompt list for Draco Malfoy?? NSFW or SFW, your choice. Thank you so much❤❤

A/N: Wait, wait, wait... I just realized I'm writing my first smut ever. And I'm undertaking the challenge, y'all. Wish me luck, haha. It's also me turning against some of my mutuals from Tumblr now. Granted, Draco-x-reader is changing into the dirty territory. #Ihatemyselfforthat

Warnings: smut, so... hella yeah! for sure NOT pg-13 + language + allusions to the alcohol

XOXOXO

Prompt 21: “Stop teasing.” / “Make me.”

Draco's lips tasted like a mixture of cigar and wine he had drunk in the restaurant.

His skin was so soft under your fingertips, and you couldn't help yourself but run your hand over his jawline, cheekbones, chest, arms, eventually stopping in his tousled hair to slowly caress his scalp. Enthusiastic as it was, he was responding to your kisses with as much eagerness and desperation as were you, and you couldn't help yourself but wonder how excellent kisser was he. Titling your head, you deepened the kiss over and over again, your tongues dancing in each other's mouths and fitting into the perfect rhythm of movement. You were desperately trying to press yourself closer, if it was possible, to him, but none of it was enough, and your body longed to every inch of him. His hands, on the other hand, didn't embed too long in one place and were marveling all over you -- your hips, your breast, your back, your face. Every time and everywhere he touched, a pleasant and tickling feeling burst in the place, being the worst encouragement to develop a remaining tension below your navel. At that point, you felt as if your body was on fire, expanding in your veins and only building up desire.

Draco nibbled your lip between his teeth, gently and carefully, and you couldn't help the inevitable gasp which escaped out of your mouth, spreading a feeling of lust across your chest. To that, he as well reacted with the faintest of whimpers coming from his throat, and soon enough, he rapidly turned you on your back, pulling himself on top of you and never breaking the connection between your lips. Wild and on the adrenaline boost, your kisses were passionate, and your hands started roaming with clothes, desperate to reveal more skin to fulfill each other's eager needs. Almost as on cue, your breathing sped up into much faster respiration, quickly turning into pants and loud puffings; but that didn't stop you from kissing, rather sporadically breaking off to catch some air and then attacking each other with zealous lips again.

Draco felt like a blessing, ramming his weight at you, and it was so tempting that you suddenly needed to be even closer to him. And so you did, by arching your back and releasing yet another long, covetous sigh, which --try as might-- couldn't be suppressed by anyone's willpower. Your sigh wasn't, however, left without a response because something like a low growl rumbled in Draco's chest, and his hands traveled from your chest to the wrists, pinning you to the mattress.

For the last, he planted the kiss on your mouth, hard, and then lowered his head, only to press his lips against your neck; at that point, you started wheezing like an angry rhinoceros. Releasing your hands and allowing you more room for maneuver, your clumsy fingers started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt; meanwhile, his hands found themselves on your hips, putting a lot of force to keep you in the stable position. You disagreed, however, with this arrangement, because still unsatisfied with the proximity of your bodies, you began squirming impatiently.

He probably understood your allusion because a small smile painted on his face, as you felt against your skin, and his palms wandered all way long to the calps of your bra, attempting to unbutton it. And within mere seconds, he succeeded, tossing it off the bed to the other side of the room, clearly pleased with himself. With a deficit of self-control, he ripped off his mouth of your neck only to admire your chest with great interest and lust flickering in his dilated eyes. But he was only absent for a moment before locating the sloppy kisses between your breast, slowly making his way down, and down, and down, where the biggest need was torturously pooling up.

"Beautiful," he was muttering between kisses, and your sighs were only doubled by his breath which softly tickled your skin. His hands never left your body, slowly tracing the patterns on your bare arm, and your chest was rapidly falling and rasing at the desire and pleasure you felt. He, as well, was lost in the great ardor, as if in trance -- his breath blasted in the shaky pants; his palms touching every inch of you, doing the closest studies to your anatomy; his lips grazing your skin with the biggest curiosity; and his heart racing at the highest rate in the rib cage. So was your pulse very unsteady.

He pulled away suddenly, stopped kissing you; and as you were about to let out a loud sign of protest or pull him back to your lips, you realized he had ducked his head to your inner tights, capturing them passionately with fierce kisses.

Holy fuck!

You gasped at the most wanted touch and arched your back until at least half of it was off the bed, feeling as if the tension was about to tear you up in the pieces. But that didn't matter now. If you had to die, it would be committed during the most pleasurable time of your life, as was now.

You wanted him so, so bad to press his lips at the exact same place he was omitting, and soon enough, you figured out what he was playing at. And his playful smirk only confirmed your assumptions. That only made you more flustered.

"Stop teasing," you mumbled in a shaky breath, barely able to create the coherent sentence due to your unsteady respiration and a pure want that overcame your voice.

"Make me." His voice was laced with craving, low and deep as never. As you lowered your gaze to look him directly in the eyes, you saw that his pupils were dilated to the point that at least half of them were black, and his stare held something more than passion in itself. It was piercing, actually. His chest was heaving so much at the sight of you sprawling beneath him, and his hair was disheveled, standing in every direction, making him look wild. But in a good way.

"Please," you pleaded, desperate as never before and forcing the most persuading tone to convince him. He, on the other hand, had decided to say nothing and only let out an amused chuckle.

To your enormous surprise, however, he succumbed to your begs and, in the next second, shifted so quickly that it startled you a little, making you jolt in the positive shock. His fingers almost aggressively grasped your undergarment, and you laid your head on the pillow, letting him take it off in the passionate haste of your legs. Even without your noticing, he swiftly and speedily removed it, shoving it in some unknown corners of the bed, and in the next moment...

Oh, boy...

In the next moment, he was slowly yet fiercely pressing his lips into the most tension-bearing spot; exactly where you wanted from the very beginning. Trying to cover up your blasting gasp, you inhaled sharply, clenching your jaw to do your best to repress any sound out of your mouth. Draco, on contrary, seemed to take great enjoyment of your reaction because he groaned and took another chance into pressing his lips to your clit, his fingers digging roughly into your hips.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, trying but failing to lower your voice, and Draco emitted another groan, sending delicious vibrations all across your body, feeling like an electric shock straight to your core.

A few curses and endearments occasionally escaped Draco's mouth, and he started kissing the insides of your shaking legs -- once, twice, again, and again -- and inducing the loud pants, moans, and pleads from you. Eventually and finally, his hands grabbed your tights, spreading your legs a little bit wider than they already were and allowing him better access to your... intimate parts. Wasting no more time, he dropped his head and slowly entered you with his tongue, caressing your sensitive and swelling bud.

"Yes! Oh--" you sighed, relishing the pure mixture of his fingers roughly holding you into the position and the flickering of his tongue in your private parts. Thrusting your head even harder into the pillow and closing your eyes in pleasure, you tried to fit in into the rhythmical motion of his tongue by wiggling your hips with as much power as you had in yourself; you met with his mouth, which as if on purpose, accelerated the movement.

Fucking wonderful, it felt!

What came next, however, almost undid you right there and then -- Draco started sucking on you, gently swirling his tongue in the delectable little circles. Gripping even tighter on sheets, you let out the cries of pleasure on the fucking enjoyment of his every action, breathing even too rapid to be called pants. You rolled your eyeballs over and over again, partly believing it was what heaven feels like, and bouncing on your bed like mad.

"Draco --oh my god -- I think I'm gonna..." And then the strain snapped, sending a wave of ecstasy over your body, making you harder than you had ever been. Obtaining the fulfillment, your whole body was quivering violently and slowly, step by step, the tremors began to subside.

Draco pulled away, leaving you laying still and saturated, all of your muscles feeling strangely flabby yet content.

Before you knew it, the scent of his cologne was again hitting your nostrils, and he was by your side, tagging you even closer to him by lifting you up with one arm, and the second one throwing on the duvet and entirely coating your nudity. Then he was kissing you again: on your forehead, cheeks, nose, neck; with the same vigor but less tense atmosphere than the moments ago. You let out a small satisfied and relieved sigh before hiding your face in the crook of his neck, pressing your lips against his skin, and waiting for the return of your strength.

"Perfect," Draco muttered under his breath, setting a few more kisses on you and eventually resting his head next to you.

XOXOXO

A/N: No comment :?

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Undercover - Chapter 7

Chapter Selection

Everyone had gone back to work; Reid was on medical leave and wouldn't be back for a few weeks. 

JJ and Garcia were constantly checking up on him so he didn't slip again. He was talking now instead of avoiding us. 

I was at my desk doing paperwork when Emily approached me, "Hey so me, JJ, and Garcia were going to do a girls night. I feel like we haven't hung out as often as we should, you wanna come." 

Without hesitation I said yes. I needed to just get drunk.

I pick up my phone an text Aaron. 

y/n- Hey....Me, Garcia, Emily, and JJ are going out tonight so I might not be over tonight

Aaron- oh ok have fun just not too much. I don't need guys all over you

y/n- I'll try and there's no need for you to be jealous

Honestly the thought of him being jealous was really hot. 

Aaron- Little girl you're mine...remember that

Those word stuck with me for the rest of the day. By the end of the day the girls had left for the night. They texted me that they'd be over in an hour so I could get ready. 

I went into Aaron office and looked around. The blinds were closed and there was no one in the bullpen. 

I walked over behind his desk and leaned. He stopped working when he saw me. I let out a small, "Hey." He grabbed my hand pulling me to sit on his lap. "Hey yourself, how was your day." I threw my arms around his neck. 

"Better now. I'm actually looking forward to hanging out with them. Emily had mentioned earlier we've never really hung out." 

Aaron pecked my lips. "She's not wrong all of your time has been with me." I smiled, "I'm not complaining." 

I saw the time and realized I had half and hour before they got to my apartment. "I need to go there gonna be at my place soon", He didn't let go of me. 

"Hold on", I stopped trying to get out of his grasp and looked at him staring back at me. 

"Do you know what time you'll be home." 

"No but I'm hoping before 1am." 

"Well whatever time you guys do finish up....if you can you don't have too. I want you to come over." He mainly wanted supports he's been having a tough time. "Do you even have to ask, you're stuck with me." 

He let me stand up but before I could get up fully he slapped my ass. I turned around in shock and he just smirked and continued working. I laughed and walked out. 

I got to my car and drove home. It was 6:30pm and they were going to be there in half and hour. 

I took a shower using Aarons shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I smelled just like him and the smell of mint brought me some peace. 

When I finished my shower I heard some knocks at my door. I opened to see Emily, JJ, and Garcia in party dresses. 

"What are you doing go get your ass changed." Emily said, bringing me to my closet. "Wear this one." JJ held out a black spaghetti strap dress that stopped around my mid thigh. 

The other two gasped, "Yes wear that one." Garcia said while JJ gave me the dress. I walked into the bathroom putting on the dress. I looked good in it, I took out my phone and sent a picture to Aaron. I walked out and their jaws dropped. 

"Holy shit y/n", Emily exclaimed

"Damn okay." JJ said while smiling through her teeth. "Oh my god you look so good." Garcia said while getting me a pair of black heels. I put the shoes on, got my clutch and we left. Getting a cab to go to the club. 

Arriving around 8 the club was almost full we made it inside without a problem. It was dark, loud, and hot. There were people everywhere, crowding the bar and dancefloor. 

JJ managed to get a booth in the corner. Emily went to get us some drinks, I got a lemonade vodka.

She returned with the drinks. "So y/n seeing as you're the newest what's been going on with you." Defiantly not fucking our boss, "Nothing really." They stared at me, they knew I was hiding something. 

JJ said, "Are you sure about that, no guys...nothing?" I really didn't want them in my business. 

I was about to answer and I felt my phone vibrate. "Ooo you get a text?" The annoying part was Garcia could easily hack my phone and find out. I didn't answer her but when I read the text I couldn't keep the smile off my face. 

Aaron- Little girl you look stunning. If you were here I'd rip that dress right off 

The comment went straight to my core. "I'm gonna ask this one more time, are you sure there's no guy cause you know I can hack your phone right." 

The thought of her doing that scared me. "Ok.. ok there is guy. But please I just wanna keep it to myself."

Emily speaks up, "Out of respect we will leave it alone, can I ask one question." I nod nervously for what she's gonna ask. "Is he.....you know." I smack Emily's arm but I answer, "You have no idea." There faces were priceless. 

Finishing our drinks Garcia goes and get us another round. She starts getting vodka shots for everyone. I didn't know how much I had until I started to slur my words and stumble. I grab JJs hand and drag her to the dance floor. 

I put my hands on her hips swaying back and forth. Her hands going around my neck, I guide her hips to the music. The music is booming though the room. 

I felt It in my legs and chest, Emily comes over and steals JJ from me leaving me alone until Garcia came over. 

As I was dancing with Pen I looked over an saw JJ and Emily getting a little close. They seemed to be really in the moment. 

JJ had her hands on Emily's neck; Emily's hands on her waist and hips with her mouth nibbling on JJs ear. I turned my attention away, I felt like I was intruding even though it was happening in public. The room around me started to spin and I was getting nauseous. 

Garcia was the most sober out of us, she brought me outside; she decided I had a little too much. Pen took my phone dialing the last number I called. 

"Wai- n...don do that." I tried to snatch my phone away but she sat me on the floor and waited for the person to pick up. 

I heard the deep voice on the other end and my heart dropped. "Y/n were you still coming over. Do I need to pick you up." Garcia's jaw dropped and she looked at me with a smirk. "Hello sir.....yea y/n needs you to pick her up." 

I heard him sigh, "Where" She gave him the location and he was here within minutes. His car pulled up and he stepped out. Garcia helped me up. 

I gasped, "Baby...wha-t are you doin he..." 

When I saw Aaron I stumbled over to him giving him a sloppy kiss. He caught me and kissed me back before looking at Penelope. She was smiling the whole time Aaron just gave her a look and she stopped. 

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, please don't say anything." Hotch told Garcia; she didn't say a word walking back into the club. 

I couldn't carry my own weight; Aaron picked me up bridal style and put me in the passenger seat. 

I woke up to breathing on my neck, I didn't remember what happened my heart dropped not knowing who was next to me. I turned my head and saw Aaron and I relaxed. 

"Morning", he said kissing my neck. "Hey", I felt like death. Every time I drink I forget about the torture in the morning that reminds me why I don't drink. 

"There something you need to know....last night, Garcia called me to get you." I froze, some how I knew exactly what he was going to say and I dreaded it. 

"You kissed me in front of her." I knew it, the one thing I didn't want the team to know about. 

"Did she tell anyone?" I sat up going to the bathroom. "Not that I know of, I told her not too but its Garcia." He was right about that if anyone loves gossip its Pen. 

I took shower and went to the kitchen. It was the first time Aaron saw me hungover and his heart ached. 

He saw the pain I was in and just wanted to help. Sadly there wasn't much he could do. 

My head was pounding, I couldn't stop shaking, and I was throwing up. "Here." Aaron handed me a trash can and some ibuprofen. 

I sat on the couch with him watching tv and fell asleep in his embrace. His hands slightly tugging on my hair to relive some of the pressure. 

________________

I was laying down with Aaron and I just felt off. His chest was pressed to my back holding me close while I stayed awake all night. 

I was suddenly so sad, I wasn't tired I just wanted to cry. I struggled to get up and look at the time, 1:35am great. 

I unwrapped Aarons arms from around my waist and stood up going into the bathroom. I had dark circles under my eyes like I hadn't slept in days, I just felt...weak. 

I closed my eyes and put my head down. I heard foot steps behind me, Aaron was leaning on the doorway looking at me through the mirror. 

"Baby what are you doing up." He asked with his morning voice. His eyes almost completely shut like he was going to knock out right there. 

"I don't know, I jus-," I sighed. "I don't know." I walked over to him patting him on the chest going to lay back down. 

"No there's something wrong, I can tell", He turned around. I was deciding if I should tell him. 

"Lately I've just been sad. Like I just wanna break down crying for no reason; maybe its just stress." 

He walked over to me kneeling down between my legs, putting a hand on my knee. "How about we go out. I wanna take you some place." I was confused; where would we be going at 1:40 in the morning, but we got dressed and walked outside to the car. 

The winter air was crisp but not too cold. Getting into the car he started driving; it was calm and quiet with light instrumental music playing in the background. 

My mind wondered as I looked at the sky through the window. I was thinking about life, the fact that we don't understand it as much as we'd like. I was snapped out of me thoughts when the car stopped. 

I looked at the clock, 2:30. We left the apartment at 1:40, driving for almost an hour. I looked around and saw nothing. He got out of the car opening my door for me. He grabbed my hand helping me out.

I saw nothing but grass and trees. We were on a huge ass hill that overlooked a forest, it reminded me of the clearing we found; but this was different. 

"Why'd you bring me here." I saw Aaron expression change. "I used to come here when I was stressed or needed a break. Usually around this time." 

Sitting on the hood of his car he continued. "I always came here alone, this was my way of escaping in a sense." 

Gazing at the sky it was black with tints of blue, purple, pink, and orange. The grass was overgrown, breeze had a slight chill, the wind rustling the trees. I was staring at the stars, there was no light pollution.

I was just space and seeing it clearly was reliving and damn near therapeutic. He put his arm around me holding me against him, throwing a blanket over us. 

I let out a deep breath and drifted off to the sounds of Aaron humming a song. 

I woke up to arm shaking me, "Princess we got to go." I sat up groaning, "Why." 

"We have work", getting back into the car I stretched. "Oh right", I felt a bit better; he helped me. 

__________________

When we got to work Aaron and I automatically went to Garcia office. We walked in and she turned around in her chair. 

There was a huge smile on her face, "Oh my god... I'm so happy for you guys." Closing the door behind us Aaron said, "You didn't tell anyone right." 

"No sir I didn't tell a soul...if you don't mind I have a few questions." We nodded and sat down. "

How long has this been going on." She pointed between me and Aaron.

"About five months now, and to answer the following question I'm aware I've been here five months. We started dating soon after yes." I said putting my hand on his. 

"Does anyone else know"

"Rossi but no one else and y/n and I would like to keep it that way please."

I stood up grabbing Aarons hand pulling him up. "Y/n we're gonna have to talk later." 

Garcia said while winking at me. I huffed and smiled walking out to my desk. 

__________________

A few hours have passed and honestly I was really horny. It had been a few days since we last had sex and I needed his touch; I felt deprived. I took out my phone. 

Y/n- Close the blinds

Aaron- Why

Y/n- Just do it

I saw him in the corner of my eye close the blinds

Y/n- Are you gonna be busy today 

Aaron- No.....little girl what are you doing

Y/n- Call me to your office

Hotch opened the door, "Y/n can I see you in my office please." I walked up the ramp opening the door closing it behind me. I pressed my back to the door and locked it. 

Hearing the click Aaron looked at me raising his eyebrows, I walked over to him quickly sitting on the desk in front of him. 

I pulled him up with the collar of his suit pressing my lips to his. He snaked his arms around my waist. Moaning into the kiss I pulled away. 

As I looked at his face, seeing his swollen lips and dilated eyes it turned me on even more. 

"Just fuck me", He crashed his lips to mine pushing his tongue into my mouth. He pulled me off turned me around and slammed my chest on his desk. 

"You couldn't wait till we got home", he pulled my pants down and slapped my ass. 

Clenching around nothing I sat up facing him, He tugged at my panted taking them off completely.

Aaron standing in between my legs I glanced at the growing bulge in his pants. I palmed him, him groaned in my ear while unbuttoning my shirt. 

I unzipped his pants pulling them down just enough to pull his cock out. Stroking his shaft he took off my underwear. 

He ran his cock up and down my slit before sliding in. Letting me adjust to his size before continuing, thrusting in a out. 

I littered kisses down his neck and up to his jawline; purple circles started to form. I moaned into his neck, his hand finding its way around my throat applying enough pressure for my vision to blur. "Fuc-"

"Let me hear you baby", the knot forming in my stomach. His other hand went to my clit rubbing fast circles matching his movements. 

His groans and curses could be heard from the bullpen. Pounding into me I couldn't form words only whimpers. He turned me into a moaning mess. 

His thrusts getting rougher and faster I started to come close to the edge. He brought me closer to him; my body almost completely with his. 

He added more pressure on my throat, "Fuck Aaron". My hand tugging on his hair pulling his head to the side putting my head into the crook of his neck. 

His movements started to falter as I felt him starting to twitch inside me. I reached my orgasm, I clenched around him bringing him to finish inside me.

My body shaking slightly. Seeing white spots I didn't notice Aaron had already pulled out and was cleaning between my legs with a tissue. 

"You feel better now", Aaron let out a chuckle putting his hands on my hips helping me down. I put my underwear and pants back on. 

I went up to Aaron setting a deep and loving kiss on his lips. My hand pressed the back of his neck bringing him closer. 

"Little girl if you don't stop I might just have to bend you back over the desk." I just stared at him. 

"I'm gonna hold you to that. Love you" Sitting back down and continuing to work, "Love you too."

I walked out of his office sitting back down. From the looks of it, I didn't think they heard us, but I did notice a pair of eyes staring at me.

Rossi and Garcia. 

__________________

@marie1115 @appleblossoms-posts @mac99martin @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction

[afterfanfic]

Herophine Imagine

Here’s the rest of the little snippet I posted last night, I hope everyone likes it! Feel free to request any scenarios you’d like to see me write, nothing’s off limits ;) The song I listened to to inspire this piece was Bad Intentions by Niykki Heaton, give it a listen to get in the mood! 

“And CUT!” I hear Anna call from behind the camera for what seems like the 100th time for this take. We’ve been shooting the infamous Seattle seen for After We Collided, and I must’ve said the words, “Fuck me or leave,” more times than I can count. As I move to get off of Hero’s lap Anna calls, “No Jo, just stay. We’re just going to shoot one more time with a close-up in a minute.”

I roll my eyes and smirk at Hero as I straddle his lap, “Am I doing something wrong? Do I not sound sexy?” I know this scene is integral, but at this point it feels quite ridiculous to keep trying.

He scratches his neck and shows his dimples, “I think you sound fine,” he replies without meeting my eyes.

“Okay, here we go again, places my babies!” Anna calls again and I adjust my hips to the right position. “Action!”

I grab Hero’s face between my hands and deliver my most important line with all the sex appeal I can manage, “Fuck me,” I peek from under my lashes and maintain eye contact with those green eyes, “or leave.” Hero genuinely looks stunned as his eyes dart to my mouth and back up to meet my gaze, I can feel his reaction underneath me. It’s just biology, it’s natural to get turned on when any woman is sitting on your lap. It’s part of the profession to be mature about the matter to capture the moment. As I wait for him to return with his line I’m only met with silence. I hear a cough from behind the camera that propels Hero back to reality. With a shake of his head and a muttered, “I’m sorry,” under his breath he removes me from his lap and storms away to his trailer. The cast and crew are silent as he walks away, and before Anna or Roger can say anything I interject, “I’ll check on him.” I hear Roger call for everyone to take an hour break for lunch as I leave.

 I pull down the tight gold dress further down my thighs as I walk over to Hero’s trailer, conveniently located right next to mine. After I knock, I hear an exasperated, “I’ll be right out! Just give me five minutes!”

“Hero, it’s me,” I call through the door. I immediately hear footsteps before the trailer door opens. Hero stands in his traditional Harden-garb: black t-shirt, black jeans, black converse, with the faux tattoos littered along his arms. I can tell he’s been running his fingers through his hair, one thing I’ve definitely noticed Hero and Harden have in common. It’s quite endearing, how much he tries to say he is unlike Harden when he acts just like him in some ways. He doesn’t say a word, just walks back into his trailer and leaves the door open for me to enter. I follow inside and shut the door behind me. He takes a seat on the couch as I remain standing. “So, are you gonna tell me what just happened out there?” I cross my arms, determined to leave this trailer with an answer for his outburst.

He looks up at me, “I.. I, uh, I think you know,” his eyes shift downwards in a shameful manner, which only adds to my confusion.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Absolutely not. I did,” he replies, disgust for himself laced in his tone. What could he possibly be talking about? I am completely perplexed by his reaction, he must see this on my face since he continues, “I can’t even control my stupid fucking hormones for one scene. What kind of an actor am I? Letting my feelings interfere with my work… I’m not cut out for this shit,” his tone is depressingly resigned. He’s talking about getting an erection while I sat on his lap? That’s nothing to be ashamed of, like I said, it’s human nature. Wait.. did he say feelings? We’ll deal with that later.

“Hey,” I move to sit next to him on the couch and turn his head to face me. “Do not feel bad for having a normal biological reaction!” He shakes his head from my grasp and looks back to the floor, he’s so shy when it comes to me, yet so caring and gentle in his tone when speaking with me. I’ve absolutely adored getting to know him over the past year and a half, we’ve grown so close as friends and co-stars, dedicated to bringing Anna’s dream to life.

“I’m sorry, Jo,” he turns to actually face me, “I’ve just been so in my head this whole scene. I’m clearly the reason we’ve had to run it a million times.” As I look into his sea green stare, I can feel my resolve slipping. I’ve been attracted to Hero since the first time I laid eyes on his tall figure, and I can’t deny the natural chemistry that has bloomed between us since we’ve grown closer.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask, as coyly as I possibly can. Hero gives me a slight nod to continue. I take a deep breath and admit what I’ve been feeling this whole shoot, “I quite like when I can feel you during these scenes,” I breathe as I move closer to him on the couch.

“Y-You do?” I can see the disbelief in his eyes as I move to straddle him on the couch. I can’t believe this is happening, but I don’t want to stop it now.

“Do you want to know something else?” I whisper into his ear. He answers with a dreamy sigh as I grab his hand from the arm of the couch and move it beneath my dress. His look is bewildered, yet primal in pure lust. “This is what you do to me during those scenes.” As I drag his two fingers through my wetness, I can’t help but release a moan. His pupils are completely dilated as I bring his fingers to my mouth and lick my moisture from them as if it were something else. His mouth is agape with his plump lips as he gasps at my actions. I’ve never felt so sexually fevered, but something about him brings out my inner vixen.

“You’re really not wearing panties,” he asks, a beautiful smirk highlighting the dimples on his face.

“What can I say? I like to stay in character,” I shrug and we both laugh, easing into our comfortability with each other. I lean my forehead against his as I take in his perfect features. I can tell he’s unsure whether he should make the first move or not, so I take the chance and latch my lips onto his. While I’ve kissed him plenty of times during shooting, this is different. This is not Tessa and Hardin. This is Hero and Josephine. He’s tentative as his lips follow mine, and I’m the one to initiate it further by biting his bottom lip and soothing the sting with my tongue.

“Fuck, Jo,” he whispers before capturing my mouth in his. His tongue dances with mine in sync as my hands find his hair and his hands venture to my hip and the back of my neck, holding me to him. He gains confidence as our mouths battle for dominance, and my hands wander underneath his shirt, tugging to indicate that I’d like for it to be off. Our lips part momentarily as he yanks the black tee over his head and tosses it aside and my hands immediately find his bare skin. I lightly draw my fingertips up and down his abdomen, reveling in the feeling of his smooth, warm skin underneath me. Hero’s lips move from my mouth to my jaw, slowly making their way down to my neck as he sucks and licks my sensitive skin.

“Hero,” I moan as my hands lace through his hair. The feeling of his lips on my skin mixed with his tight grip on my hips is driving me insane. I yank his head back up and give him a quick peck before delving into my own assault down his defined jawline. He can’t hold back his groans as I rock myself back and forth on top of him, desperate for some relief for the fire burning inside me. Feeling empowered I pull back and look into his eyes, “What do you think your manager would say if I marked you, huh?” I tease before placing another sloppy kiss along his neck. I feel shivers running through his body as I continue my taunting, “Made you mine, made sure everyone at your little Dior show knew you were taken?” I don’t give him time to reply before latching my lips to the side of his neck, biting and sucking, feeling the bruise forming. I am drunk on this sexual power I feel. When I pull back to give Hero a playful smirk, his expression has turned dark and lustful. I’ve never seen him like this and I can feel the effect as I clench in pleasure. We just stare at each other for a minute, our heavy breathing the only sound in the trailer before he takes control and his lips find mine again in a frenzied, sloppy, hot kiss.

His hands move underneath my dress, massaging the sides of my thighs as he pushes it up further, silently asking for permission to remove it. I pull back only for a second and rip the gold material from my body. In my haste, I forgot that the dress didn’t allow for a bra either, meaning I am now stark-naked straddling Hero Fiennes-Tiffin in his trailer. Holy shit. His eyes move from my face slowly taking in my form, lingering on my chest as he licks and bites his lower lip the way he always does. “You are so fucking beautiful, Josephine,” he all but whispers as his large hands reach out to cup my breasts, kneading and pinching my hardened nipples. I moan as I throw my head back in pleasure, the sensation of his hands now mixing with his mouth as he takes my left nipple into his mouth, sucking and lightly biting in the most erotic way. I’m pretty much dry humping him now, realizing I need to feel him, all of him, as soon as possible.

“Your pants,” I huff, “Off. Now.” I manage to get the words out between moans. He releases his hold and I get off of his lap to allow him to disrobe. His hands are shaky as they find the button and zipper before shimmying his hips to pull them down. “Boxers, too,” I command as he smirks and pulls the black boxer briefs down too. His sitting position on the couch is making this process take far too long for my liking, so I reach out and grab his pants and boxers and finish pulling them all of the way off. After throwing his clothes to the side I finally manage to come back to the moment and see him, all of him. “Fuck, I knew you were hung,” I clearly don’t have a brain to mouth filter when my head is this clouded with the image of a naked Hero sitting in front of me.

“Hung?” he replies, humor laced in his tone and an amused grin on his face. We both break into laughter again, easing my nerves, as he holds his hand out to me to join him again. “Come here, baby,” he beckons, and I waste no time climbing back onto his lap. “Are you,” he begins before I cut him off.

“Birth control… yes,” I finish his thought. He chuckles at my impatience before kissing me sweetly, slowly, tenderly. My comments must have given his ego a boost as he becomes more confident in himself. He grasps the base of his cock before lifting me off his lap, allowing me to hover over his length.

“Mmm, you’re so fucking wet for me, Jo,” he sighs, moving the head of his cock through my folds, teasing my entrance and clit in the best way. Something about his voice and words ignites feelings in me I didn’t know were possible. On the next pass, I slowly sink onto him, just an inch, before sitting back up. I repeat this motion three more times while staring into his piercing gaze before taking him fully.

“So good,” I murmur as I feel him inside my stomach, filling me so completely and deeply. As I begin to move up and down, at a torturously slow pace, I join him in looking down to where our bodies meet, my moisture leaving a slick residue at his base. It’s mesmerizing. I roll my hips, feeling him hit every spot deep inside me as our mouths meet again. I swallow his moans as I move faster. Hero grabs my hips and lifts me slightly as he begins to thrust to meet my movements. I’m well aware that I’m mewling like a kitten, but he seems to enjoy my noises as his hips pick up the pace. The trailer is filled with the sound of our skin slapping together and our collective heavy breathing, kissing, and moaning. We’re both slick with sweat as he moves his mouth down my neck and collarbone. “Hero,” I moan from deep in my chest as we continue moving as one.

“Again,” he coos from below me, my hands laced in his hair. “Say my name again, please,” he breathes before latching back onto my neck.

“Hero,” I moan even louder, prompting his hips to move faster and thrust harder. His mouth moves back to mind as his hand snakes between our bodies, quickly finding my sensitive clit. His middle finger rubs in circles, igniting the fluttering deep in the pit of my stomach.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?” his voice is hoarse, his lips swollen from my attack, and his finger moves faster. I nod my head, not able to find my voice to give a coherent answer. “Come for me, Josephine,” Hero whispers and I let go, orgasming harder than I ever have before.

Still reeling from my high, my eyes meet his. “Come inside me, Hero. Make me yours, please,” I don’t even recognize my voice, completely sated and seductive. Within three thrusts I feel his warm release filling me. He buries his face in my neck as his cock pulses inside of me. After both coming back to earth, we pull back slightly and I lean my forehead against his. “That was,” I begin, not even knowing the correct word to use in this moment.

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing me softly on the lips. As our breathing returns to normal it hits me. What have I just done? 

[ygonerdherd]

Yugiohmens

Since I’m buzzing with Good Omens AU puzzleshipping ideas (source), I figured I’d share a few with y’all. (Note: This is based on the show. I haven’t finished the book yet.)

Meet our cast:

Atem and Yugi: Atem’s the angel and Yugi’s the demon do not @ me

Atem’s black and white sense of morality and that whole righteous condemnation/punishment thing he had going on in the beginning of the manga? Has Heaven written all over it.

Plus Yugi can’t get his black, skin tight leather pants or chokers in heaven, I can promise you that

.Also being a fallen angel opens the possibility to eons of self-loathing and feeling like you aren’t worthy of love or other good things in your life and we know that’s our boy’s M.O.

Zorc and Yami Bakura: This one’s obvious. Zorc is Lucifer and Yami Bakura is Beelzebub. (TKB wouldn’t have fallen/become Yami Bakura without Zorc’s influence.)

Pegasus: Gabriel. They give off the same big dickhead energy and both have a lot of influence and power. Also, “THANK YOU FOR MY PORNOGRAPHY” but in Pegasus’ voice.

Ryou: Antichrist. This kid can’t even catch a break in a damn AU I’m so sorry.

Blankey (Honda’s dog): I can’t make this fit any sort of logic but the anime left her out and I will not be making the same mistake. She gets to be Dog a.k.a. the Hell Hound.

Isis: Anathema. Her family has been preparing for centuries to combat the Antichrist and stop Armageddon. Her brothers Malik and Rishid are there too. Now you get witch siblings on a mission to stop the end of the world.

The rest of Yugi’s crew: The Four Horsemen. Honda (War), Jou (Famine), Otogi (Pollution), and Anzu (Death). Can’t you just see their otherworldly motorcycle gang like how fucking cool.

The Kaiba brothers: Witch Finders, descendants of Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsiver. Seto is Newt. The idea of him fucking up technology with just a touch is hilarious. P.S. Isis is a lesbian and Mai is her also-a-witch girlfriend. Isis and Seto are just partners in stopping the apocalypse.

Rex and Weevil: Rex is Ligur and Weevil is Hastur. The first one walks around with a chameleon on his head (easily switched out for a dino), and the second re-manifests through a flood of maggots like come on.

Okay now back to the puzzleshipping:

Oh, that wily adversary, the demon Yugi, and Atem, angel of the Eastern Gate

Literally known each other since the beginning of the Earth

They’ve been each other’s constant for 6,000 years, even if they are supposed to be mortal enemies. (Which they’re not, and after a few thousand years they start getting sloppy at even pretending.) 

They share a fondness for the Earth and the humans that none of their fellow angels or demons can understand.

They see each other. They see the person beyond the neat little boxes that they’ve been shoved into labeled ‘angel’ or ‘demon’: all the quirks and human tendencies that have rubbed off on them over millennia, all the things beyond their job descriptions that truly make up who they are. They both see a beautiful soul before them; how could they not fall in love?

But Atem doesn’t actually realize he’s in love until the church bombing during WWII. (And immediately he buries it as deep as he can. It would never work: Heaven and Hell would kill them both. Besides, there was no way Yugi felt the same way about him.)

Fun fact Yugi been pining for at least a millennium haha.

The whole holy water thing: How upset Atem is when Yugi first asks for it, how he can’t even bear the thought of Yugi dying, period, let alone killing himself. They get into a big fight and don’t see each other for a long time. Still, the pain is just as fresh decades later when Atem ultimately hands over a thermos of holy water because Yugi won’t stop until he gets some, and just attempting to steal it could get him killed. Atem has never hated being thanked until this moment. He can’t take it.

Y: I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go. A: … You go too fast for me, Yugi.

Several more decades later the two of them getting drunk and bickering about how to stop the end of the world.

Yugi convincing Atem to go along with his cancel-each-other-out Antichrist plan.

Y: We’d be godfathers! Sort of. A: Godfathers… Well, I”ll be damned! Y: ‘s not so bad, once you get used to it. A: Y: *winks*

The two of them watching over and influencing young Warlock throughout his childhood, both of them puzzled ha and slightly flustered because why do people keep assuming the nanny and the gardener are a couple?! That isn’t part of the act??

At the not-Antichrist’s 11th birthday party, Atem with a drawn-on mustache performing bad magic tricks while the secondhand embarrassment rolls off of Yugi in waves. When they leave the party and Atem discovers the poor smothered bird, Yugi gently takes it and miracles it back to life. (It is Crowley who does it in the book, not Aziraphale. I demand to have this tender puzzle moment.)

Yugi asking Atem to run away with him across the universe, on more than one occasion.

Yugi running into a burning building to save Atem like come on that is textbook puzzleshipping.

Atem being discorporated but leaving Heaven to get back to Yugi stop Armageddon.

Atem’s soul finding Yugi in the bar just hours before the end of the world, and this dumbass in love tries to make small talk:

A: Did you go to Alpha Centauri? Y: Nahh, changed my mind. Stuff happened… *voice cracking* I lost my best friend.

(Atem would give anything to reach out and be able to wipe away the tears Yugi is trying to hide behind his glasses.)

Atem needing a body to inhabit but he and Yugi quickly ignoring the desired intimacy and innuendo agreeing he shouldn’t try it with Yugi’s body.

A: I do need a body. Pity I can’t inhabit yours! Y: Oh... A: Angel, demon… Probably explode! Y: Blehh!

And I shall close with some puzzleshipping lagniappe:

Yugi with golden eyes and slit pupils can you imagine. Atem would lose his damn mind every time he caught a glimpse of them let alone when there are no glasses to shield him from Yugi’s absolute love and adoration.

Atem snuggled up on the couch with a blanket, a book, and his little reading glasses perched on his nose. Yugi would melt.

But also warrior angel Atem with his flaming sword, poised for battle as Lucifer/Zorc claws his way to the surface. Don’t try to tell me Yugi wouldn’t find that hot.

Yugi with the Crowley Saunter™

Yugi in his Bentley flooring it through London/Domino blasting Queen songs

Snake!Yugi wrapped around Atem and dozing while Atem reads by the fire. Atem booping snake!Yugi’s snoot (and regular Yugi’s nose).

Yugi, mockingly: “Oh Lord, heal this bike.” Atem: *fuck you look*

And finally, puzzleboys with wings. Yugi’s black wings have a purple sheen in the sunlight. Atem’s white wings have red tips.

Thank you and good night.

[dexondefense]

If you are taking prompts.... can you tell us more about this scenario? "At one point Ransom and Holster have to have a Talk with Nursey because Dex is getting upset about how much compulsion Nursey has been using on him. Especially when he made him dance with him last Kegster. Nursey has to awkwardly explain he had no powers of compulsion, he literally just asked Dex to dance with him. " Thank you!

Anon is referencing THIS POST.HAPPY FIRST DAY OF HALLOWEEN EVERYONE IT’S MONSTER TIME! Here’s a fic from the Monster Haus AU based off a prompt from last year (oops). Monster Haus AU: Featuring Elf Hoster, Sasquatch Ransom, and Vampire Nursey. 

Ransom liked to believe he was a good captain. Not just because of calls on the ice, but because of everything he put into keeping his team together and doing well off of the ice. Together he and Holster oversaw 21 different guys, with 17 different species between them. Keeping up with everyone was exhausting on a good day, but it was worth it. Ransom cared about every single guy on his bench and he knew Holster did as well. It came with the territory of having each others backs. So when Wicks ended up in the hospital after the full moon, and Tango locked himself in his room for two days after a heartbreak, and that time a professor tried to throw Sharper out of his class for getting slime all over the place – Ransom was there.

He had grown accustom to bizarre situations and unexpected issues arising out of no where, both on and off the ice, but this wasn’t something he had ever anticipated dealing with.

“What are we even supposed to say?” He asked Holster. It was the first words they’d spoken since they decided they needed to have this talk.

“I…We just tell him to knock it off, I guess,” Holster reasoned. There was a hard set to his jaw and he didn’t once glance at Ransom. Holster spent the majority of his life in various states of annoyance, but it wasn’t often Ransom actually ever saw him mad.

He wasn’t sure if it was an elf thing or just a Holster thing, but he was terrifying when he got properly angry. Ransom was about 99.8% sure it was just in his head, but anger made Holster seem taller, somehow, and his ears pointier.

He was losing it.

Ransom instead tried to focus straight ahead as they followed a girl with pink hair into the dorm building before the door could close.

“Do you think he meant to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Holster snapped, cutting Ransom off almost before he had the question out. Ransom was upset, his chest aching and head still spinning a little from the awkward conversation with Dex, but it was different for Holster. Nursey was his frog really. As ridiculous as it seemed, Ransom knew Holster felt somewhat responsible. Without another look at Ransom, Holster was slamming his fist against door 211. “YO OPEN UP MAN.”

“What the hell?” Came the response from the other side. There was the click of the lock and then Nursey was standing in the doorway, a look of anger melting quickly into fear as he took in the expressions on both of his captain’s faces. “Yo, what’s-”

“Can we come in?” Holster asked, bumping his shoulder into Nursey’s as he pushed past him. Nursey may have needed permission to enter someone’s room, but neither of them did.

Ransom did his best to hide any sympathy he might have felt at Nursey’s frightened look. They had a job to do here, and Nursey had messed up. Big Time messed up, and the two of them couldn’t let it pass.

“Derek.” Holster began as soon as the door closed, and Nursey winced visibly at the use of his fist name, “we need to talk about something.” The tone Holster used wasn’t one Ransom was used to hearing. It took Ransom a minute to realize he sounded exactly like Mr. Birkholtz. It was the same tone and timber he used when he had first introduced himself, and the first time Ransom had considered Elves as fearsome of creatures as everyone always said. It was an odd thought to have, Ransom knew, but it was hard to miss the hard consonants and the steady monotone. It made him sound older. It made him sound like an elf.

“About what?” Nursey looked paler than usual, one hand still on the closed doorknob like he might have to bolt at any moment.

“It’s about the last Kegster,” Ransom spoke up before Holster could continue. He doubted at this pace they were actually going to get an answer, and an answer was what Ransom wanted. Or maybe it was what he needed, because he refused to believe what he had heard.

“Oh…kay.” Nursey let go of the door knob, but still didn’t seem to want to leave the safety of the doorway. “Did I break something? I swear I’ll pay for anything! Or fix it! I’m not that good at fixing stuff, but I’m sure Dex-”

“Dex doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” Ransom cut off, hearing the edge in his own voice now.

Nursey seemed to instantly forget that he had been about to bolt, crossing the room in two steps to face them. “What? Why?” His eyes widened. “What did I do? Oh fuck what did I do?”

Ransom wasn’t an expert on vampires, he could admit that. There were a lot of lies spread throughout the actual truth when it came to them, but he knew that Nursey couldn’t have been too drunk to remember using compulsion. That kind of mind work required focus and a clear head. Not the kind of sloppy drunk that Nursey tended to get.

“You know what you did,” Holster scolded, like Nursey was an unruly puppy, at the same time Ransom said; “You used mind control on Dex!”

Nursey blinked, the nervous tilt of his brow momentarily disrupted by confusion. “What?”

“Dex came and talked to us,” Holster told him, arms crossed and back straight. “He told us what happened.”

This was possibly the most uncomfortable Ransom had ever been in his life. He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to think Nursey was that kind of guy, but he knew Nursey well enough to know what the hand through his hair and the down cast eyes meant. Nursey was guilty and he knew it.

“That’s fucked up man,” Ransom told him before he could stop himself. “He’s your defense partner. That’s a fucking bond.”

“Not to fucking mention it’s fucked up in general.”

“Making a LAX Bro do the Macarena is one thing, but making someone kiss you is another-”

“We didn’t kiss!” Nursey interrupted, throwing his hands up like that could stop the barrage.

“Dex said you made him kiss you,” Holster accused.

“After you made him dance with you.”

“If you want to consider that dancing.”

“I didn’t want to say grind.”

“Well, now it’s too late.”

“WE DIDN’T KISS!” Ransom saw fangs when Nursey yelled, something almost feline in the frustrated growl he let out at the end. He seemed to realize what he had just yelled and at who, and ran his fingers through his hair once more, pulling lightly on the curly strands. “He just, kind of, I mean he kissed me, but not like, on the mouth.”

“What the fuck Nurse!?”

“No!” Nursey shook his head almost violently. “No he-” Nursey cut himself off, mouth hanging open in what might have been comical, had Ransom not felt such a strong urge to hit him. “Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.” Ransom thought for a moment that was the end of this discussion, that Nursey was just going to accept whatever punishment they planned on dealing out, before he turned to sit suddenly on his bed. “He kissed my neck,” he told them, sounding for all the worlds like he would rather be anywhere other than right there.

Holster snorted and Nursey shook his head again, but he seemed resigned.

“Okay, listen, I can explain. Sort of.”

“You fucking better.”

Nursey’s eyes were closed, fingers tapping rapidly against his leg in a nervous tick. “Uh, okay, so, truth is, uh…” He glanced up finally, a sheepish sort of smile on his face. “I…don’t exactly have any powers of compulsion.”

There was a pause, in which Ransom felt like he and Holster were waiting for some sort of punchline.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Nursey continued, sitting up and dripping with fake ease. “My mom can do it, but it takes years to learn and I can’t even get animals to do things, let alone a person. Or a fucking demon, holy shit.”

Holster seemed frozen in place, and Ransom thought he could feel a headache coming on. “Wait, what?”

Nursey shrugged, still failing at his attempt to seem casual. “I don’t know, everyone thought I could do it and I thought it was kind of funny and I just…rolled with it?” He lifted his shoulders along with his tone, seeming unsure himself how that was a question.

“What about the Macarena incident?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what was going on, but that was just happening and for some reason everyone thought it was me.”

“…Huh.”

“Wait,” Holster held up a hand and Nursey’s facade cracked for just a second. “How do we know you’re not just lying?”

“I don’t-OH! Chowder!” Nursey was on his feet and in their faces in an instant. He quickly seemed to remember the situation, and took a swift step back. “Chowder,” he repeated. “He knows I can’t compel people. You…kind of can’t lie to Chowder, you know.”

For the first time since they had barged into Nursey’s room, Holster looked back at Ransom. His face was an impassive as ever, but Ransom knew Holster’s expressions better than his own. He could read entire essays in the widening of his eyes and the soft curve of his frown.

When Ransom looked back at him, Nursey was tapping his fingers together again, his lip drawn between his teeth. Nursey was never an easy guy to read, and he looked a million miles away at the best of times, but now he might as well have been on another planet.

“We believe you,” Ransom told him finally.

Nursey blinked rapidly when he looked up, steadying himself back in reality from wherever he had just been. “Cool.” His smile was still tight, and he only held Ransom’s gaze for a moment before looking over his shoulder.

“So-” If Ransom had any sort of abilities to stop anything from happening, he would have used those powers now. Unfortunately, he lacked any such abilities and could not stop Holster from speaking. “Dex just got tipsy and tried to make a move on you at a Kegster?”

Nursey’s arms were crossed tight across his chest, eyes on the ceiling as he shrugged.

Holster scratched at the back of his head, his Elven posture and hard angles softening as he slouched back into something more familiar. “Uh, okay. So-”

“I think we should go talk to Chowder,” Ransom cut in before Holster could dig this pit of mutual awkwardness any deeper for them all. “You know, just to show we’re not being bias and all,” Ransom continued, thanking all of his English classes for his ability to pull plot out of his ass.

“Uh, yeah bro. Good call.”

“Yeah, so, uh, sorry about all this Nursey.”

“Yeah, sorry man.”

“Nah, it’s good.”

Ransom delivered an awkward arm punch to Nursey’s shoulder as he passed. Nursey’s eyes were still locked on the ceiling, and if Ransom wanted the floorboards to swallow him up, he couldn’t imagine Nursey’s current level of humiliation. Briefly Ransom considered actually using his ability to disappear into his surroundings, but controlled himself. Holster, though looking a little red around the ears, seemed less concerned than the two of them.

“All right, see you at practice man.”

“Yep, see ya.”

The second the door closed behind them Ransom heard Nursey groan on the other side. Or actually it sounded closer to a muffled scream, but he was trying not to focus on it. Holster looked about ready to collapse to the floor in what may have been exasperation.

“Fuck man, I hate the frogs.”

“So what do we do about Dex?” Ransom pressed on, not willing to indulge Holster’s dramatics.

“You can do whatever you want,” Holster told him, taking the stairs two at a time as they made their way out of the building. He pushed open the door with enough force that Ransom was worried he might have broken it. “I’m gonna punt his stupid fucking head out the window the second I see him.”

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Undies

You’re an underwear model and there’s a giant billboard of your toned body just across from where I work so I have to look at you every day AU

The office on the twelfth floor was fairly empty. Despite three years in the position, the inhabitant did not add much in terms of personalizing it. There was a soft leather chair in the corner with a blanket from her alma mater draped over it. There were a few stacks of books around it, on her large desk, littering the floor neatly. It was fairly boring, until she opened the window.

Grading papers, it was almost impossible to not get distracted on nice days when the windows were opened because the air was faulty at best so high up in the building. When Lexa first got the office, her view consisted of a slushie ad for a gas station. A year later, she opened her blinds one day to find a fancy billboard about watches she’d never afford.

And that wasn’t the worst situation. It went unnoticed for the majority of the time in the office. She had meetings, students arrived for office hours, and the world continued to turn, classes continued to be taught, papers were read and written, books were read beneath the view of the black and white watch.

The first day back, a few days before winter semester, the professor found her office disrupted as her view was no longer a soothing, nonsensical watch scene. Blinds tugged up and scarf half unwrapped from her neck, she stared at perhaps the most beautiful person in the world was not even half-dressed and very much in lacy underwear, seventy-five feet high.

Though she’d never had a stroke before, Lexa was almost certain she was having one as soon as she saw the billboard. Still stunned and unable to move, she felt her glasses slip down her nose slightly and she felt herself gulp, but more than anything, she just stared at that lingerie billboard and decided her office was never going to be productive again.

It took about two weeks for her to ever open the blinds again, and when she did, it was just as much of a heart attack. The professor made it exactly two hours of office hours and one afternoon class before she googled the girl whose boobs stared at her and had cleavage the size of sedan.

That was a mistake.

Slamming her laptop shut when she was confronted with more face and more lingerie pictures, Lexa found her heart beating too fast and she looked around her empty office as if she would be caught at any moment.

That was how Lexa discovered she was now trapped in a distracting hell that would never allow her to get any real work done. That was how she learned to never open the blinds. That was how she lived her boring, safe life.

“Alright, I’m out of here for the night,” Lexa shouldered her bag and dropped off papers for the secretary.

“Do you want me to have the janitor take those plants out of your office?”

“Hm?”

“You have to let them have some light,” she shook her head, stacking the papers neatly. “You keep it so dark in there.”

“Headaches,” Lexa cleared her throat. “I get headaches.”

“Oh honey, that makes sense.”

“Have a good evening,” she nodded, adjusting her bag on her shoulder nervously.

Life wasn’t terrible. Life wasn’t even bad, though that conversation with the secretary was embarrassing enough to last a few weeks. Lexa’s life was absolutely normal, even with the giant lingerie billboard mocking her sexless life.

But it wasn’t completely sexless, just like it wasn’t completely lonely, though it had its moments. As the elevator descended, Lexa tried not to think too much about all of that jumble. She had a lot of fun at her job. She loved studying and working with students. It was her dream job to teach at a university and present her own research. But after the move, after the break up, there was a kind of normalcy in her work.

It wasn’t that she was prone to risk, just that risk never really presented itself to her. Why would it? She was a college professor who only had one steady relationship in her life that was boring and normal. Boring and normal were her operative words.

She had her friends, and she had a life. She also had a large, scantily clad billboard that taunted her, and that was Lexa’s life. Normal and boring and her own.

Her phone buzzed as she walked through the lobby toward her subway and eventually toward her house where a new test was to be written for her Intro to Ancient Cultures class. With a roll of her eyes she tried to recuse herself from an invitation to drinks down the street.

“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me,” she muttered, pushing up her glasses as she regained her footing after bumping into a body.

“No, no, not a problem,” a voice chuckled and hands grabbed at the professor’s arm. “I was just standing here.”

“Holy. Fuck.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine… I just. I’m sorry,” Lexa shook her head, eyes wide and very confused by the turn of her day. “I’m just certain I’m dead right now.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because there’s absolutely no way I’ve bumped into the girl who is half-naked and on a billboard across from my office.”

“Oh, you work there?”

Discreetly, the professor pinched herself and stared at the supermodel who was somehow outside of her office on a random Tuesday evening. No more words came at all, though her mouth was wide open, and she couldn’t stop gaping.

Clarke Griffin was beautiful. She had… personality. Personality that Lexa was face to face with on a daily basis. She had pretty blue eyes and she had a smile that was absolutely sock-knocking off.

And she was standing on the sidewalk outside of the Kent Building.

“Why are you here?”

“This is my first billboard,” she shrugged and looked back at herself. “I kind of had to see it in person, and this is the soonest I could get back.”

“You’re here,” Lexa nodded to herself and looked back at the giant sign before blushing and shaking her head.

Two minutes ago she was walking out of her office in hopes of ditching drinks. Now things were just different and they couldn’t be the same.

“I’m sorry you have to stare at me all day. I am significantly more embarrassed than I was a moment ago,” Clarke nodded to herself without meeting the professor’s eyes. “It was lame enough coming out to see it, but yeah. Now I feel even dorkier.”

“It’s. You. You’re that. Okay.”

“I’m Clarke,” she finally held out a hand.”

“Lexa.”

She didn’t register it, that her muscles moved and she took the hand of the model who didn’t wear clothes and had good cleavage. Great Cleavage, both capitalized and an example to humanity. Nope. She didn’t shake her hand, except somehow she did.

“You work in that building?”

“Yes,” she nodded, still shaking her hand.

“What do you do?”

“I. Um. Words. I do words. I teach words. Words in the pages. Books. Words and books.”

A wry smile appeared on the model’s face when the hand was unceremoniously dropped and the shaking hand was retracted at lightspeed.

“I suspect you are very good at it.”

“What do you do?” Lexa gaped dumbly before she shut her eyes and tried to mentally kill herself.

When she opened them again, she pushed up her glasses and met a smirk that made her positive she was dead. In what world does she bump into and chat with the lingerie-wearing model of her dreams. She was dead. She was hit by a bus and would wake up momentarily or be ushered into heaven or something. That was it. She just had to survive another few seconds and avoid the light.

“I model. You might not recognize me with my clothes on.”

“Oh, no. I do. I mean. I saw your face. And I saw all of,” her hands moved in front of Clarke’s chest. “I mean. I’m sorry. I did see part of. There’s the. My office is right up there, third window from the left on the twelfth floor.”

“Right across from my cleavage.”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“Hm?”

“I mean,” Lexa scrambled. “It’s not that bad.”

“I suppose there could be worse views.”

Neither moved and neither looked at each other for a moment as they stared at the billboard. Clarke snuck a peek at the bespectacled professor and smiled to herself for the first time in a long, honest while. There was something refreshing about her.

“I’m going for drinks, with my friends,” Lexa finally tried. “If you aren’t doing anything you could come. Because I’m pretty sure this is a fever dream or I’m having a stroke. So. Why not.”

“Why would you think that?”

It was evening and the sun was stuck between the buildings, though it didn’t want to set, not fully, not yet. Clarke knew there was an early shoot in the morning. She also knew that the past two years of her life had been the busiest and best, but also the loneliest, and she was still far from home.

“Because I walked out of my office and you just appeared.”

“I suppose it is just a bit silly.”

“A bit?”

“Isn’t it amazing what ten minutes can do?” Clarke asked. “If you’d left ten minutes sooner, if I’d been ten minutes later.”

Lexa couldn’t think of anything except for boobs. Which was a problem because that sounded smart and like it should count for something.

“Drinks?”

“Sure.”

The answer was not the one she anticipated, and yet again, Lexa was convinced that she was dead or dying and ready to wake up at any moment.

“I’ve never been in a professor’s office before,” the model decided as the lights were flipped on.

Neither were drunk, though Lexa wished she could have used that as an excuse. She wished she drank more than two beers.  She wished Clarke was sloppy because then she would just want to take care of her and not kiss her. She wished that her sister hadn’t been wing-manning for her. She wished that it had been a fever dream or a car to the temple. That would explain it.

But Anya said people won the lottery with just as much improbability. And to Lexa’s logical brain, that actually made sense in a disturbing kind of way.

“It’s not much,” Lexa shrugged as she leaned against the door. “But the view is something.”

“Is it weird that I wanted to see it?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it,” Clarke sighed and shook her head as she picked up a few books on the neat desk. “I just never expected to be on something. I never expected any of this. So I guess I had to see it, to believe it, if that makes sense.”

“It does.”

“Is this where you sit and grade papers?” she changed the subject and pointed toward the chair in the corner.

“Sometimes.”

Awkwardly, Lexa stepped into her office, looking at it with fresh eyes. The blinds finally opened and the dim city still had enough lights to show the billboard at the late hour.

“Wow. That definitely takes away from the stateliness of your office,” she whistled as she took in the display.

“All of my plants died because I have to keep the blinds closed,” Lexa informed her.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There are worse views I’m sure.”

Despite herself, Lexa stood beside Clarke just as they had a few hours ago when they met, both staring at the same thing they stared at then. The major difference, however, was that Lexa looked at the model and couldn't care less about the stupid picture that she had memorized already.

“Did you have a crush on me because you’ve seen me in my underwear?” Clarke asked.

“Definitely.”

“Is that what I’ve become?” she crossed her arms. “Is this what I wanted?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s weird, to be thought of as just… that.”

“Everyone has that, though,” Lexa furrowed. “People look at me, they see a dork. Anyone could look at you right now and see that you’re drop-dead and stunning. No one is ever going to ask for your number because they think you look like someone who has great conversations.”

“Ah, so you’re justifying your perviness?” she teased, taking the words as best she could.

“No. I just… I looked at that picture and I thought you were hot. Like, I couldn’t even work in my office anymore, hot,” she explained. “But I definitely only got a crush on you when you recited the speech from the Sorting Hat over drinks with my sister.”

Slowly the smile formed while Lexa realized her words and snapped her mouth shut tight. She wasn’t going to admit anything ever again. Not about anything. Clarke kept the smile to herself as best she could.

Lexa flinched as she felt a hand slip into her own. Though she was too afraid to look and see who it was that was holding her own, she squeezed it back.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for classroom D108?”

The student barely looks up from his book until he sees leaves and a pot juggled in arms, and then he does a doubletake. The polite girl asking for directions smiled sweetly, waiting for an answer in the tiny hallways of the large building across from her billboard.

“Um. What?”

“D108?” she tried again, looking at a piece of paper the secretary gave her. “I thought it was on the other floor, but I can’t seem to find anything with D attached.”

“That’s the lecture hall,” he said, staring at her intensely. “Ground floor, to the right of the entrance facing the stairs.”

“Oh, great,” Clarke nodded, juggling the plant from her hip to her arms. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

It was stupid, but still, the model found herself repeatedly riding the elevator and search every inch of the giant english department building in hopes of finding the professor that was nerdy hot, but also insanely human and normal, which was addicting. It was her eyes and her face. That was important. Plus she had a cute butt that the model found herself checking out on the way to the bar.

There comes a time when one must simply stop worrying though, and that was what Clarke decided. She didn’t care. She had a billboard where she was barely covered and millions of people saw it, so, what else was there to really be afraid of anymore?

That was fine and good until she stood in the back of the lecture hall and saw the stupid professor with her stupid rolled up sleeves and stupid cute butt when she wrote on the board, and her stupid glasses that she adjusted when she pondered, and her stupid face that was the explicit material anyone would imagine between their own legs.

So Clarke did the only thing that she could, and she took a seat and took in the class.

The professor had everyone’s attention, and to someone who had never taken a college class ever before, it was actually interesting. Lexa spoke with her hands, and with confidence that Clarke would have never imagined the girl who taught ‘words, books and words,’ to have. There was something about a girl with passion that was mesmerizing.

It ended with a reminder for papers and responses to be submitted. It ended with laughs and a few people lingering to ask questions as she packed up her bag and wiped down the board, and politely, Clarke waited, ducking her head slightly away from any eyes of dreary students who were more worried to get out of the room and onto the weekend.

Somewhere between a question about an extension and a flirtatious coed, Clarke caught those eyes and earned a double take. Still, she waited her turn kindly, though she saw the little rush that the professor got to clear out the room.

It wasn’t that she didn’t get looks, ever. Clarke got many looks. Many annoying people asked her out and made little remarks. No one blushed and stuttered and asked her questions like Lexa. That was it.

“Excellent lecture, Dr. Woods,” Clarke smiled as the professor climbed the stairs toward the exit. “Riveting material. I might go buy that book and read it now that you’ve explained what it all means.”

“Glad you could join us, Ms. Griffin,” she grinned. “I see you’ve visited our bookstore.”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded after looking down at her own shirt and the bag on her arm. “I thought I might as well.”

“Because why not,” Lexa tried. “You just appear, and you appeared again, and everything is bonkers and I’m in a coma.”

“I’m not sure about the last part.”

“Are you coming up?”

“I did come to see you.”

“Right. Right. Because that’s not crazy. I’m in a coma,” she shook her head and pushed the proper button to the floor her office was on. “I just keep running into the supermodel that has haunted my office for the past few weeks.”

“You’re not in a coma.”

“Sure.”

“I had fun last night. I thought it wouldn’t be terrible to see if you actually taught words and books and things.”

“And? How did I do?”

“I bought it.”

Lexa chuckled despite herself as they walked toward her office. She fiddled with the lock and finally tossed her bag on the chair when she made her way inside. Once again, Clarke stood there and surveyed, as if anything could change since the twelve hours since they’d been there together while the city slept.

“I suspect you’re not here for a question about my paper requirements.”

“I brought you a plant. I feel responsible for the other ones.”

“Trust me, it’s mostly me,” Lexa sighed before taking the offered pot. “But it’s kind of your fault.”

“This thing doesn’t need much light. I made sure.”

“Thank you.”

Clarke took a deep breath, suddenly with empty arms and not sure exactly what else there was left for her to do. So she shoved her hands in her back pockets and watched the professor pick a good spot for the new pot.

“I had fun last night. More fun than I’ve had in a long time,” she finally broke the stalemate. “I wanted to thank you for being normal near me.”

“I don’t know if I was especially normal,” Lexa shook her head. “But I am glad it was fun for you.”

“Would it be weird to ask for your number? To maybe be in touch when I come to town next?”

“My number?”

“Yes.”

“My telephone number?”

“No, your social.”

“What?”

“Yes, your phone number,” Clarke shook her head at the dense doctor across from her. “So I can call or text or something.”

“Oh. Yeah. That thing.”

Still, she didn’t move. Instead, she just stared at the person asking, as if she couldn’t believe it, because that didn’t make sense at all. But Clarke waited expectantly, done with her burst of eagerness for the day, high on the adrenaline of risk.

“I think I’m due back next week,” Clarke explained. “And then I’m back for a while, which will be nice. I haven’t been home in weeks.”

“Right. And now you’ve bought out our bookshop, so it makes sense.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m giving the girl on the lingerie billboard my phone number,” Lexa mumbled to herself. “She brought me a plant.”

“Do you have any more classes?” Clarke asked as she pocketed the piece of paper with digits on it.

“One at four.”

“Could I interest you in lunch?”

“With you?”

“Lexa. When are you going to get over the almost naked ad and model thing?”

“When you’re naked in my bed-- Oh fuck. I meant. No. What I meant was that I won’t ever get over it because that’ll never--- okay. See. The thing. You know? Okay. Stop.”

Clarke watched the panic set it and enjoyed being able to do that to someone who was so successful and talented and kind. It was all in a day’s work.

So the funny thing that Lexa never counted on after her hours spent avoiding opening her blinds, after her days spent staring at the pretty girl with the great personality, after weeks talking to said girl who was suddenly real and no longer a fantasy, was that the company she modeled for would give her things.

Or that she would be on the receiving end of pictures of some of their samples during office hours.

Or that she would get kind of attached to the stranger who appeared out of nowhere and convinced her that she was currently inhabiting a parallel universe in which she was, in fact, dead, like a shitty ending to a television show where the past few years were just a dream and really only a few days had passed in the real universe.

Or that, despite her own shortcomings as a person who got tongue tied near a pretty girl, she would still get texts and calls from a model.

Or that her crush would become a supercrush that might be reciprocated.

Or that when she said the black set of lace and such were her favorite, that Clarke would take it as an invitation to kill her and wear them when she came back to town.

Or that she would get to see them in person.

Or that she would get to take them off. In person.

“So, you believe I like you now?” Clarke asked, still out of breath and with her clothes tossed to all corners of the apartment.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I was prepared for the whole ‘she’s hot’ thing. Not for the whole funny and charming and nice thing.”

“So obviously I can’t like you?”

“Obviously.”

“We just fucked.”

“Clarke!” Lexa gasped.

“Hey, you’re the one that used that word a lot. Like a chant, actually,” Clarke smirked. “I like you, Lexa.”

“You’re the model wearing nothing in the ad across from my office,” she groaned, covering her face. “And now here you are.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure I didn’t get hit by a bus?”

“No. But why not make this fantasy last a little longer if you did?” she reasoned.

For a long bit of heart beats acclimating to normal resting rate, Lexa considered it. She stared at the ceiling and debated.

“Why not.”

“Perfect.”

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; hes Sloppy; PG-13

u know when you’re at a party and then your friend gets wasted and sits in your lap and confesses to u and it’s a whole thing

so tw for alcohol

“Okay, my dude,” Jonghyun says, lifting on hand from Taemin’s hip to gently tangle in his hair. He pulls Taemin’s head back from his neck and sighs at his lidded, out of focus pupils and slack little smile. “I told you to stop kissing me, like, ten minutes ago already,” he says.

ao3

“You know, I think your eyes are… gorgeous. Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. Like, when you do the thing, like you smile so gentle, and your eyes get all moony, and your lashes are so long, and you get all gorgeous, like. That thing. When you’re gorgeous. I really love that.”

Jonghyun sighs slowly at the ceiling, head tilted way too far against the back of the couch as Taemin slurs little words into his neck. The rest of the house party bustles around them, but he’s been here for the better part of an hour, holding Taemin in his lap so he doesn’t go being a sloppy drunk mess all over anyone else.

Like, literally holding, firmly, in place, because the last time he let go of Taemin’s hips they started slowly grinding forward against his. He didn’t get a full boner, probably because his brain is too fucking wasted to send all the right signals down there, but Jonghyun can still feel his half hard ween pressing against his leg as Taemin nuzzles him.

This isn’t exactly how he pictured his night going when he showed up to Jinki’s place.

“Mmm, I really love you,” Taemin mumbles against his skin. “I really really want you to know that. I really wanna tell you all the time. I love you a really whole lot. And I’m demi, so that’s like. An extra lot. Of love. From you… from… fr--for you. For--from--from me.”

This also isn’t how he expected Taemin to confess to him, either. He never expected Taemin to confess to him at all, ever. He pats Taemin’s hip gently instead of replying because he’s kind of just sad about this whole situation. He knows Taemin, and he knows drunk Taemin. He’s super far gone right now and he’s not going to remember any of this. And he definitely wouldn’t want to be saying all of this sober.

Like, it’s nice and all; Taemin is cute and would probably be a good boyfriend and everything, but still. Jonghyun feels gross for sitting here and listening to something Taemin wouldn’t want him to know, but he knows that he would feel grosser if he abandoned Taemin to wander around the house all slurry and wiggly and touchy by himself.

Taemin’s lips on his neck stop making words and instead just press against his skin, warm breaths puffing out and making him feel all moist and sticky on one side. Jonghyun thinks about shifting Taemin in his lap so his mouth moves, then decides against it. If Taemin is finally passing out he doesn’t want to disturb that.

After another few minutes, Taemin’s lips start to kiss him instead and he sighs. Holy shit. He waits a few moments to make sure that Taemin is really trying to kiss up on him again and not just doing some weird drunk shit; when Taemin bites lightly and starts sucking a hickey into him he calls it.

“Okay, my dude,” he says, lifting on hand from Taemin’s hip to gently tangle in his hair. He pulls Taemin’s head back and sighs at his lidded, out of focus pupils and slack little smile. “I told you to stop kissing me, like, ten minutes ago already,” he says.

“Oh,” Taemin mumbles. He blinks slowly, rubs one hand clumsily into his eye, and lets it fall onto Jonghyun’s shoulder. “I forgot,” he says. Jonghyun snorts. He forgot twenty minutes ago, too.

“Stop it,” he says sternly. Taemin nods, a sheepish little thing, and Jonghyun lets him nestle himself back in against his neck. He can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant experience, what with all of the spit on there now, but Taemin doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He creeps both little hands around Jonghyun’s shoulders and clings to him tightly, mumbling more little things that Jonghyun doesn’t catch. Jonghyun hopes he actually falls asleep soon. For being a scrawny little shit his weight is still heavy over Jonghyun’s thighs and it’s starting to get uncomfortable.

Letting his head loll to the side, he quickly scans the rest of the party. Mm. Well. At east he’s not missing out on talking to anyone he knows. Jinki is off mingling or whatever, but he can talk to Jinki whenever he wants anyway, so he doesn’t count. He almost makes eye contact with a person that looks like they wouldn’t mind a conversation with someone with a drunken little goober in their lap, but before he can smile at them, Taemin makes a louder noise and shifts closer like he wants attention.

Jonghyun sighs and goes back to staring at the ceiling, squeezing Taemin’s side with one hand.

“What?” he asks blandly.

“Mmmh… why don’t you like my butt anymore?” Taemin asks.

“What?” Jonghyun asks, the repeat question a breathy laugh. That’s not what he was expecting at all. Taemin whines, actually makes a long noise high in his throat, and wiggles against Jonghyun like a little kid.

“You used to always touch my butt all the time always and now you’re not,” he pouts. “You haven’t even tried today,” he adds. His voice is hurt and rejected, and if Jonghyun didn’t know any better, he would think there was a hint of a tear in there. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it passed drunk Taemin to actually be the one to cry for once. Even over something like an absence of butt touching.

“I mean,” he says. He never really noticed his excessive touching or lack of touching of Taemin’s before. And now wouldn’t exactly be a good time to start. “You are drunker than I’ve ever seen you before in my life and I would feel gross for touching your butt when you’re like this?” he says. He feels like even for drunk Taemin that should make sense. Still, Taemin whines and wiggles and paps his little hands all over Jonghyun’s shoulders.

“But you always liked my butt and you always wanted to touch it and I liked it because I like my butt and I like you and I like you touching my butt but now you’re not and I don’t know why and I want you to touch my butt because it feels nice and your hands are, like, really warm and strong and they felt really good on my butt and I just really want you to touch m--”

“Okay okay okay, fine, I’ll touch your butt,” Jonghyun says quickly. Taemin wasn’t breathing much during that whole thing and Jonghyun feels like a gentle hand pap on the booty will be more okay than letting Taemin talk himself to death in his lap. He slips both hands from Taemin’s hips to rest over the back pockets of his jeans, patting his butt sweetly.

It is a nice butt, to be honest. Very cute and plush. Taemin hums the longest, most contented noise into his skin and squeezes him tight. Jonghyun rolls his eyes, a smile creeping onto his lips. He’s so cute sometimes. He lets his hands just rest there, very lightly, without trying to actually feel or pull him closer. This is nice, he guesses. Some nice sitting time with Taemin practically purring into his neck. He bets Taemin will fall asleep for real soon.

Soon, he feels Taemin’s lips kissing up on his neck again instead and sighs. Maybe he’ll just let Taemin glom onto him like this all night. Just a hickey. It’ll be easier than constantly pulling him away and he’ll have some evidence in the morning to hopefully convince Taemin to never get this drunk again. It’ll save the both of them a headache.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Kindness; Part Seven

Fandom: Fallout (3)

Pairing: Female Lone Wanderer/Charon

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Seven!

Spoon knew she was really, really lucky at this point. He had let her pull his wrist practically into her lap so she could look at it closer, and she assumed she must be using up all sorts of future favors. She couldn't help it though! The visibility of his muscles was captivating, and she itched to document all of their motions. Her fingers traced the red areas up and down his forearm, then moved to his leg.

  “You want me to take my pants off too? Needy smoothskin.” Charon's teasing tone snapped her out of her mindless exploration, and she felt her face start to heat as Charon took her hand.

  Much like she had done with him, he trailed his fingers across her forearm. Her pulse hammered traitorously as he pressed a thumb to her wrist, all the while so casual and calm. “Do I fascinate you or something, Mistress?” The tone in his voice was odd now, and Spoon worried that she might have offended him. “Am I a good patient to examine, Doc?”

  She remained silent, tongue tied as he somewhat brazenly continued to check her pulse.

  “Good news Spoon, you're still alive. A little racy, but seemingly none the worse for the wear.” The ghoul said solemnly, his eyes giving away his inner mirth as he looked at Spoon.

  She huffed indignantly, finding her voice to grumble, “No need to poke fun at me, you giant fucker,” while trying to tug her wrist from his grip. She might as well have been trying to remove her hand from a block of concrete. Charon didn't even seem to notice she wanted to get her hand back, his strong fingers firm against her skin. He raised her hand to his face, eyes inquisitive as he began poking and prodding her wrist. Spoon giggled in spite of herself and the sound seemed to please Charon. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “Alright, I'm sorry. I won't treat you like my own personal lab dummy.” Spoon apologized. “It was rude of me. Can you accept my apology so I can have my hand back?”

  Charon released her wrist, seeming to almost pout. “Fine. But next time, I'm taking it with me.”

  Spoon gulped. “You wouldn't.”

  Charon grinned in a manner that was more akin to baring his teeth. “You don't want to know how many times I've heard that.”

  “How many times have you threatened to take someone's hand with you?!” Spoon squawked.

    “Enough times to know the noises a hand makes when you separate it from the body.” Charon growled in reply, making Spoon snicker.

  “You're awful. You're only half-joking too, aren't you?” She jibed, gently elbowing him in the side.

  “Me to know, you to never find out.” Charon watched Spoon scrabble through her bag, tossing little bits of junk this way and that as she dug deeper. His chest tightened as he thought of how close he had come to having his contract holder killed. His brow furrowed. He would just have to be more careful is all. No more mistakes.

  Spoon pulled out an old, banged up Pip Boy, presumably to use the light on it to read something that she reverently took out of an inner pocket.

  Charon hesitated to ask, but... “What is that?” He kept his voice quiet, so Spoon could ignore his inquiry if she wanted to.

  Spoon jolted, looking up almost like she had forgotten he was there. “Oh! Uh, nothing. It's nothing. Don't worry about it. Get some sleep, Charon. Busy day tomorrow.” She mumbled, already re-absorbed with reading...whatever it was.

  Charon huffed. “Sleep is a luxury, not a necessity, Mistress. May I patrol the hall for threats?” He gestured to the door that led to the foyer. Her noncommittal murmur in reply made him roll his eyes. Charon stood, a strange urge taking hold of him that demanded to be acted on. He felt weirdly playful, teasing, almost drunk and he chalked it up to the rad water. “May I make you scream my name as you ride my cock?” He asked in the same tone as before, his smirk fading as he realized what he had just said. Fuck.

  “Mm, yeah. Sure thing Charon.” The smoothskin replied, clearly absorbed in leafing through that book. Charon grimaced, somewhat relieved that Spoon had actually been that distracted. Otherwise, things could have gotten rather awkward. That being said, he took minute pleasure in lowering a hand and rumpling her hair on his way across the room. But the smoothskin didn't even look up. Her brow just furrowed, like she was thinking excessively hard on something.

  Charon moved into the foyer and made himself comfortable in an old office chair, his shotgun lazily propped up on a blasted-out computer monitor. What a day, he thought, feeling his eyes grow heavy as he listened for the tell-tale sounds of something stirring in the night.

    Spoon awoke groggy the next morning, realizing in a flash that it was much later than normal. The light fighting its way through the boarded-up windows was a golden russet color, indicating the lateness of the day.

  Why didn't Charon wake me? Spoon wondered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. A small scrap of cloth on the floor beside her caught her attention and she picked it up curiously. It was saturated with...something. A quick sniff made her vision spin, and she threw the rag, gagging. “Med-X.” Spoon said aloud, swearing as she noticed the absence of her rifle. “Charon!” She called, thoroughly worried now. Spoon got to her feet, sliding the hunting knife out of her boot and slowly advancing towards the lobby. Every sense was on high alert, her brain running through a list of possibilities as long as the Potomac. Did Charon drug me in my sleep? If he hadn't, where was he? What had happened? And why did her heart feel like it was trying to slam its way out of her chest?

  Spoon peered around the corner of the doorway, shoulders slumping when she realized the foyer was deserted. She crouched, hearing her father's words echo faintly as she began her 'forensic investigation'.

  Alright Eleanor, think . Look for marks, signs, anything. You're a smart kid.

  Spoon shook her head. Not him. Never him. He had abandoned her, left her parentless in a vault full of psychopaths. She gritted her teeth, focusing on the task at hand. I gave Charon Stims and rad water last night. What do Stims do to ghouls besides heal them very slowly? What does radiation do to ghouls in general? Makes them happy, makes them loopy. Her eyes widened. Makes them sloppy .

  What if there had been something else living in this building? What if it came from inside the building while Spoon was asleep? They had drugged her and taken her rifle, and then...

  A desperate noise fought free of Spoon's throat, a quiet animal-sound. Charon . Her fingers traced huge footprints, Charon's footprints in the drifted sand and dirt on the floor. Numerous other footprints, crisscrossed and walked over and over again. Too many. At least six people, maybe more. Some dried blood in the dirt. Frayed bits of rope.

  Spoon's own blood ran cold when her fingers touched something formidable almost wholly covered in the sand. It was Charon's hunting knife, she recognized the wicked-looking half-serrated blade like it was an old friend. Charon's skill with the blasted thing had been legendary in her eyes. He had shown her a few tricks but she knew she would never come close to his level. Finding his knife without him attached to it was like the final nail in the coffin. Spoon swallowed hard, not surprised at the lack of Charon's shotgun after her own gun had vanished.

  The idea that she was alone again hit her much harder than she would have liked. Tears blurred her eyes for what felt like forever as she contemplated what she could do. She felt like she was leaving the vault all over again, stepping shaky-legged and terrified out into the blistering sunlight and thin air of a world she did not know, and a world that would not hesitate to punish her for her ignorance.

  “ I don't want you to follow me. God knows life in the vault isn't perfect, but at least you'll be safe. ”

  Her father had said those words before he vanished, gone back to the only thing he had ever loved. Spoon's face hardened and she picked up Charon's knife. She stared at it for a long minute, and then her knuckles whitened on the hilt. Charon was the closest thing to a friend she had out here. He was the only one who ever protected her, regardless of whether it was in his contract to do so. Fuck, she'd even gotten him to smile a few times. She doubted that was in the contract. He had said that she might be a good person. Well, here was her chance to prove it.

  Now she had to be the unstoppable killing machine. A part that, regardless of her smaller size, she was more than willing to play. Charon had to be hurt in order for him to have been dragged off with her still in possession of the contract, and that thought alone made her seethe. Her eyes followed a long furrow in the dirt and sand on the floor where something had been dragged. Something Charon-size. The trail led back into the building, past where she had slept, down another hallway.

  Another thought made her stop cold. Maybe...maybe the Med-X was supposed to have killed her. She had been exposed to a fair amount of it in the vault, due to her attempts to find the best possible ways to get her bones broken, either by the so-called, 'Tunnel Snakes' or other more accidental ways. She might have built up a tolerance to it. Out here, Med-X was hard to come by. A small dose could be lethal enough to kill someone with no prior exposure. After all, they hadn't even injected her with it, just dripped some onto a rag, put it over her nose and smothered her until she lost consciousness. She probably hadn't even woken up when they did it. She certainly didn't remember waking.

  Spoon scrambled to her pack, hidden before she had fallen asleep. She'd learned fairly quick that if you didn't want to wake up with your things gone, you hid them. And while the rifle was what she was most familiar with, she was by no means a slouch with her knife. Especially since Charon taught me a few things.

  Spoon swallowed the lump of gratitude in her throat, focusing on what she had to do. She thanked whatever god there might be that even though she wore mismatched boots, both the ones she had were found with knife holsters clipped to them. Charon's knife slid into her right boot like it belonged there, and hers followed suit on the left. A quick reach down and she was armed. An older, rustier knife with a knuckle duster for a handle took up residence in her left hand, feeling heavy but good. Like it was made for her. Some more rummaging procured her Pip Boy for illumination and the remainder of her Stims filled her pockets.

  Spoon squared her shoulders, adjusted her hat, and slipped silently into the hallway.

    Charon didn't know how long it had been since he had been at the Institute. One hundred, three hundred years? It didn't matter. The headaches were just as crippling now, stirring unpleasant memories in his brain. He was bound with numerous layers of things; rope and wire and chains tied together with dingy padlocks. His head swam and pounded with every beat of his heart; the control phrase felt like a battering ram against the insides of his temples.

  Return to contract holder.

  Return to contract holder.

  Return to contract holder.

  Spoon.

  This was worse than when he was with Ahzrukhal. He was nauseous, helpless, furious all at once. The chains, old as they were, were unyielding when he pulled against them. The ropes frayed but didn't snap like they had the first time. God, he was so stupid! Falling asleep, why did he take the rad water? He should have just taken the Stims and suffered quietly as everything slowly knit back together. Now he was trapped, chained to the wall in some hellhole. Spoon must be dead, there's no way she survived. The raiders got past her somehow, killing her in her sleep would have been all too easy with her night watchman asleep at his post.

  A new thought occurred to him that made him grit his teeth. What if they had...

  The image flashed into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. Her screaming, crying, begging as clothes were torn off, as she was exposed, as they--

  Charon's shoulders tensed, rubbing raw in his bindings as he strained against them. He snarled largely out of frustration at the dark figures that slunk around the corners of the room in the half-light. How dare they truss him up like a goddamn quivering coward? How dare they let their filth touch Spoon? How dare they?!

  He threw himself against the chain, his boots slipping in the grime on the floor and dropping him onto his shoulder. I swore to keep her safe. I told her I would keep her safe. The contract is supposed to keep her safe. His head rested on the floor and he drew his knees up underneath him. His arms stretched out painfully behind him, biceps crushing against the ropes and wires digging into his skin. He breathed out a whine through gritted teeth, the floor feeling cold and soothing against his pounding head as he fought the urge to scream and vomit at the same time. His stomach was revolting against him, his body thinking that he was purposely rebelling against the contract. You're not exactly in a great set of circumstances when your own body fights you mercilessly. Charon thought with more than a touch of bitterness, retching.

  A raider boot slammed into his ribs. Charon was freshly healed from the super mutant's onslaught and he prayed that everything had the chance to set right, because he was clearly about to have a few things re-broken. He closed his eyes, waiting for the blows to fall. The raider didn't disappoint and Charon retreated mentally into a quiet corner of his mind. An overwhelming sense of failure numbed the ghoul's body to the pain, replacing it with the empty feeling of knowing that once again he needed an employer. And for all he knew, he already had one. There was no way one of these bastards hadn't taken the contract from Spoon's body and even if they didn't understand the significance of it yet, their small brains would put it together somehow.

  If they didn't kill him first.

  Charon could take a beating before the Institute, but he'd learned a few new tricks while being...trained. Like mentally detaching himself from the pain. It left him unaware to the world; something like closing his eyes and opening them again in a quiet, dim room. He would just sit and think about things. Many topics wandered through his mind in his own version of solitary confinement, and it usually took an immense force to wake him up from it before he was willing. Because that always meant the return of the pain was hot on its heels.

  It was here that Charon found himself, quietly seated with his chin rested in his hand. The Wasteland might as well not even exist.

    Spoon crept silently down the hall, the only noise her shallow breaths. Two raiders were already down, dead before they knew it. Throat-slitting was a quick and effective, if not bloodier way of taking care of things.

  She straightened her hat. Spoon's hat was a special hat. She had acquired it when she had gotten to Megaton and deactivated the bomb. Moira gave it to her as a sort of a housewarming present...as well as an apology for getting her heavily irradiated for Science. The hat had a larger brim than most, but that wasn't what made it special. Moira had taken scrap metal and formed a protective ring inside the hat around the hat band. It made the hat exceedingly heavy, but it also made Spoon really good at taking blows to the head.

  Usually when your enemy is busy recoiling from the fact that they just broke their fist on your forehead, they can't react to you headbutting them in the jaw with your metal skull. Spoon grinned to herself, attempting to keep her worries about Charon at bay. A few still managed to slip through, though. Please be safe! She begged mentally, sneaking up on another raider. Be strong for me, I'm coming! Don't die on me, big guy. I need you.

  The raider bolted to his feet with a war cry, coming at Spoon with a revolver cocked and aimed for her heart. Spoon ducked and slammed her knuckle duster into his shin, grabbing Charon's knife out of its holster with her free hand. The raider screamed in pain, going down in the sand. His gun clattered against the wall, far out of reach. The young woman crossed her blades at the wailing man's throat, and leaned in real close. “You keep whining like a bitch, and I'll bite your fucking ears off.” Spoon hissed. The man quieted, and Spoon smiled mirthlessly. “That's better. Now, my little friend, I'm looking for someone. A buddy of mine. Maybe you've seen him?”

  “W-we...we killed you! We suffocated you with the chems! You want the...the rotface?” The raider asked shakily.

  Spoon sighed heavily and punched the man in the side of the head with her knuckle duster, tearing the skin. “Let's try this again, shall we?” She asked calmly as the man howled in pain.

  “Th' ghoul! It's a ghoul, ain't it?” The raider sobbed.

  “Better. He still alive?”

  “I-if it is, it won't be for long!” The man's bloodied face twisted into a grin, and that sealed his fate.

  Spoon slit the man's throat, got up and tipped her hat to his thrashing form. “Much obliged.” Hang on Charon! She ran down the hallway full-speed, throwing caution to the wind. If there was anyone else nearby, they would have heard the ruckus of the Raider she had just killed and come running.

  I-if it is, it won't be for long!

  She shook her head, trying not to think about those words. 'If', huh? Knowing Charon, he's got all of them tied up and he's picking his teeth with someone's shattered femur bone right about now. Light up ahead startled her enough to get her to slow, and she switched off her Pip Boy light. She slunk further, swearing at herself for not picking up the Raider's pistol as she passed a mattress with a human torso nailed to it and numerous limbs hanging from the ceiling via sharp hooks. How...quaint. Spoon thought wryly as she glanced upwards. They certainly do know how to make a girl feel at home.

  She carefully peered around a doorway into what looked like an old classroom, and her eyes widened. Charon!

  The ghoul looked like hell. His eyes were glazed over, and too many portions of his combat armor were stained with blood for Spoon's liking. A raider was in the process of swinging a baseball bat down onto the small of the chained ghoul's back. One other raider looked on idly, leaning against the wall and picking something off the bottom of his shoe.

  Spoon's blood sang to the challenge, both knives in her hands ready and willing. “You get the hell away from my friend!” She screamed, lunging for the raider with the bat. He turned and swung at her instead with a yell of surprise. The bat slammed into her knee, but Spoon pushed through the pain as her knives perforated the man's chest cavity. She proceeded to ventilate the first raider, blood spurting down the man's shirt and spattering on the floor.

  The other raider grabbed Spoon around the throat from behind and heaved her into the air, but she forced her chin down into the crook of his elbow and bit his arm, making him holler. While he was distracted Spoon flipped one knife around and buried it in the man's unprotected side, forcing the blade in sideways between his ribs. The raider squealed in pain when she twisted the knife and then loosened his grip, allowing her to escape. She whirled and clumsily caught him across the face with her knuckle duster, tearing Charon's knife back out with a rasp of the saw against bone. The raider staggered back, dropping to his knees.

  Spoon snarled, and she felt that Charon would have been proud of the furious noise. It was guttural, raspy and flat-out scary. She stood over the raider and asked, “Was it worth it, you little fucker?” The man scrambled back to his feet and Spoon tensed, moving to lunge again and essentially walking into a punch for her trouble. She heard a distinct crunch and then there was an explosion of pain as her nose broke under his fist. Sloppy, cocky, useless little Eleanor.

  Her legs buckled, injured knee having a rough time holding her up, but to her credit she didn't fall. She lashed out with Charon's knife, ramming the blade up through the man's chin to hold his face steady so she could batter him to a lifeless pulp with her knuckle duster. She was vaguely aware of someone yelling, maybe her, maybe him. Then it was over, the raider's frame plopping wetly on the ground.

  Spoon retched, spitting a little blood off to the side and starting to go through the raider's clothes for the keys to Charon's chains. She wanted to fix her nose, but she dreaded the idea of pushing it back into place. So get Charon free and safe first, then worry about her nose and knee.

  Spoon finally found the key in one of the man's pants pockets, holding it aloft with a garbled cry of victory. She fought with the rusty padlocks on the wall for several minutes before they gave way and she let Charon's arms ease down to rest against his back. He was still breathing anyway, which calmed Spoon's mind somewhat as she sawed through some of the ropes holding him.

  “Fucking wire, really?” She grunted as the knife caught on it. “The fuckin' chains weren't sufficient for you, eh big guy?” Spoon bit her lip as the wire snapped under the stress of the knife. “I hope you're alright. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here.” Her voice was quiet and matter-of-fact. She knew this was her fault. She had incapacitated him, spoiled him with both Stims and irradiated water and made him lose his edge. “I...I won't do it again. I promise. I can't let you get hurt again.” She murmured. “You mean too much to me. I can't let you get hurt anymore. You're always there for me, and the one time I could have been, I fucked it all up. I'm...I'm so sorry.”

Part Eight