#i had the honour to beta it again and i also know some secrets of what is to come and let me tell you it will be GLORIOUS

[synonym-for-life]

PEOPLE! THE THIRD CHAPTER OF HOWLR by @partialtopotter IS UP!  

If you don’t know what that is yet, it is a snort-inducing, ugly-laugh provoking text!fic, but this time we get major feels along with humour AND some SMUT! Yes, you read it right. Draco and Harry sexting which I never knew could be this hot tbh but she did it she did it and it was h.o.t.

Haven’t checked it out yet? Start with Chapter 1

Have been itching for an update? Read Chapter 3

I am seriously so excited for this story and I know loads of you were waiting for an update so YAAAY! :D

[sisterofleatherfrog]

Star Wars Kinktober day- 1

Prompt: Symbolic jewelry

Sub! Tup x Female (AFAB) OC

Hello! Willkommen to the grand opening of me doing Kinktober (even if this post is a few hours late for the actual 1st 😅)! Here is my prompt list derived from Kinktober lists by @ink-and-flame. Their prompt lists are phenomenal, but for the sake of my ADHD I had to whittle it down into a more finite list of interests that I am comfortable writing and know at least a little about it, or else I’ll just get lost in the sauce of prompts! But seriously, go check out their lists, they’re incredibly varied and have something for everyone! 

And now without further ado:

Tags: some drinking, sub male, femdom, nudity, almost pussy eating (working up to it in part 2!), pussy worship, praise kink, worship kink (is that a thing?),  there’s no sex in this fic it’s just the lead up (she is spoicy tho)

Words: 1609

🍑🍑🍑

Under his shirt, the chain and pendant Tup wore brushed cooly against his chest. As unpleasant as the gooseflesh it raised was, the reminder it gave him was anything but. 

From the moment he’d awoke that morning, wrapped in arms as pale as the thin sunlight at that hour, he knew what he wanted and began to get ready. A few kisses pecked around his groggy girlfriend, Aurelie’s, face placated her awakening at his rising and he moved to her dressing table to grab the aforementioned necklace. If she wasn’t interested in playing, it would have been put away the night before in it’s felt case, but this morning he plucked it from it’s customary open place before the mirror. 

Catching the morning bus he felt it leap and jump with the rhythm of the air vehicle as the pilot navigated Coruscant air-traffic. After the war ended and the clones were given their freedom, sentient rights, and a hell of a lot of backpay, there were questions of what was to be done with them. As it turned out, there wasn’t such a mass exodus from the GAR as previously thought there would be, though many opted to retire from combat positions. Tup chose to oversee the supply requisition and organization for the newly formed Search & Rescue Ops, a subsidiary of the Disaster Relief Squadron, helping places around the galaxy affected by natural disasters. It felt meaningful and good, and he could honestly say he didn’t miss having to carry a gun and constantly keep an eye out for clankers.

After a day of approving supply drops, running reports, and the pendant lightly caressing his chest with every slight sway, he was back on the bus home. A man scowled at him from among the crowd; some people would never see the clones as anything more than meat-droids undeserving of even the life they were given, but the pendant mocked that man’s ideas from behind Tup’s shirt. It was a gift of love freely given to him and he was worthy,

When he returned to his apartment Aurelie was still at work, not getting off until late. As he waited for water to boil he straightened up around the place, clearing dust from the nooks it always returned to settle and gathered laundry. When he came to the bed in their room he came to a spot by the bed and stopped, considered, and opened a drawer to reveal a medium sized case which he deposited neatly on Aurelie’s side of the bed. He already had the necklace, it never hurt to be proactive in terms of their play. 

Half an hour later dinner was had and a portion of it was squared away in the fridge with a reminder to reheat it and enjoy and Tup was ready to meet a few of the boys at 79’s. As he changed from his work wear into something light blue and more casual, the afternoon sun caught the silver pendant resting on the tan skin of his breast bone, dying it almost the same shade of pink- before he could finish that thought a beep from his comm sounded informing him that his taxi had arrived outside.

20 minutes, a few levels down, and a familiar neon sign later, Tup was walking into a familiar bar. Nothing had changed about the place, only now armour and dress greys were a rare sight to be seen as the open opportunity for individuality to flourish among the clones led to some, interesting, experiments in style. ‘Speaking of which,’ thought Tup as a discordant but jovial chorus of his name called him over to a table in the corner. Fives, Jesse, Kix, Rex, Waxer, Boil, Cody, and even Wolffe, to his surprise, sat there having already gotten a small headstart on happy hour. It wasn’t a full reunion, others still at work or spread across the galaxy exploring life, but it was always nice to see familiar faces.

They took their time and paced themselves drinking, it was still early and they didn’t have to run off in an hour to prepare for a campaign and weren’t shotgunning a train of shots to try and forget one. Some of them had to be able to operate tomorrow morning though and they parted as the night lowered it’s curtain over day; Jesse and Kix remained however to scope out some of the ladies coming in with the party crowds.

As good as the times spent together were, Tup silently willed the air-taxi to carry him away faster through the legendary Coruscant traffic and back home. He’d worn the necklace, the empty place it would otherwise occupy obvious, if she hadn’t noticed then she would certainly see the familiar box he’d left resting by her pillow. Stars he was ready, the anticipation had built all day, the secret only he kept feeding his need. He was thrumming for whatever Aurelie had to give him.

The taxi stopped and he cursed the second it took for the payment to transfer, the minute in the elevator, the short march down the hall, and the door code he had to spend time punching in-

The entry was dark with the exception of a string of pink fairy lights strung along the wall and leading around the corner to their room. He grinned and, remembering to turn back and lock the door when he was already halfway across the room, soon came to the closed panel that marked their space. He knocked, “May I come in mistress?”

“Enter, darling.” A high, breathy voice answered.

As the door opened Tup entered the threshold and lowered himself to his knees, his hands finding their place on his lap as he gazed upon the shining woman perched on the edge of their bed (somehow, someway, his girlfriend, a part of his brain never ceased obsessing). She regarded him warmly, “Have you been a good boy today Tup? You took your necklace and I really hope it didn’t make you do anything naughty.”

“I was very good, mistress, just for you.” His voice was breathy and quiet, he had been good, and he anticipated his reward. His eyes drank in the milky skin that clothed the leopardess in repose before him, partially obscured by the long, wavy strands of pearly blonde hair.

“Oh I know Tup, you’re such a good boy. You wake me up with kisses, make sure I have food to eat when I work late, and you were so considerate to get our box of toys out for me. I don’t know where to begin, but good boys deserve to be rewarded, isn’t that right my beautiful boy?” 

Aurelie’s voice caressed his every synapse as he breathed in air that still held the trace of a burn from a heavy incense and he was already in a state. Her words of praise had passed straight down from his ears to his cock, bringing him to a full erection from the half mast he’d been sailing at since walking through the front door. “Yes, please mistress, yes.” If it sounded like he was begging, Tup didn’t care. Her soft thighs were resting atop one another, hiding from him what he’d been craving all day. Just one simple shift was all it would take to reveal to him where she was no doubt already soft, sweet, and wet.

Her legs uncrossed, but she stood instead of spreading wider and came to stand before him, her curl-crowned mound a tease before him that turned his need to a desperate clamour within him. He held still, eyes glued to hers as she leaned down to him and brought her pillowy lips to kiss him, one hand coming up to cradle his cheek and the other fiddles with his collar for the necklace she’d gifted him. His hands were curled hard on his lap, restraining himself from the urge to reach out and touch; being so, so good and waiting.

Drawing the pendant along the chain away from Tup’s racing heart, Aurelie held it between them and teased: “Is this what you want Tup? Do you want to eat my pussy until you’re begging for me to fuck you, until you cum in me? Or maybe I’ll ride that handsome face of yours all night and let you cum in my mouth while you’re hard at work.” Tup could only manage a tortured moan, the pictures being painted in his head making him dizzy. She lightly laughed and graciously accepted that as her answer, gently leading him across the floor as she walked backwards with the chain still in her hand, him crawling on all fours after her. When she returned to the bed she sat as he looked up at her with lust and adoration.

Still holding the pendant, she slowly drew her legs apart, raising one to rest on the bed so her pussy and the glorious pink of her vulva were wide open on display for Tup in his current position. Aurelie considered the pendant again for a moment. “I’m glad I found that artist, it’s a wonderful likeness, isn’t it darling?” From the petal-like folds of her labia minora to the majora that protected them and the unique hood that shadowed her marvelous clit, it couldn’t belong to anyone else. The highest honour Tup felt was being lucky enough to be the one person allowed to worship it. 

“Stars yes, mistress!” He agreed emphatically and Aurelie laughed lightly again and let the necklace fall back into its place from her fingers. 

“Well, come and get your reward Tup.” He gladly obliged. 

🍑🍑🍑

So yeah, Tup as a Sub wears a necklace of his girlfriend’s vulva when he really wants to be her good boy (; It also helps that it’s really pretty ✨👀✨

Also sorry if this is a little off, this wasn’t even alpha read, let alone beta read.

Aurelie is one of a few OC’s I’ve used in my daydreams, she may make another appearance in another story if I think she’ll fit! I may try and do some art too…

As for the boys at the bar, I came up with ideas for what they’re up to now and may either write other Kinktober stuff in this AU, or do some drabbles later (though I could include the Kinktober stuff in an AU drabble, right?). I didn’t include it in the story though because I felt like it would disturb the flow too much. I’ll probably detail the AU in another post if I do end up doing that.

Kinktober works so far

Masterlist

[gabriel4sam]

Seventy-two varieties of root vegetable and other tasty things to discover (now that the Sith are dead); a Gen Obi-Wan story!

Written for theObi-Wan Kenobi Gen exchange and beta-ed by the charming @texasdreamer01

Under the cut, the fic! 

It was when he saw Ahsoka eyeing a beetle with keen interest than Obi-Wan decided it was time for an intervention. He had totally failed the culinary education of his own Padawan, he wouldn’t fail it in the same way for his Grandpadawan.

“You didn’t fail my education, Master, seriously-“

“-Shh, Anakin, I’m the one telling the story.”

The war was dying down, for no reasons the Jedi could exactly pinpoint. They were doing exactly the same things they had done for years, but this time the other side was answering their propositions of peace talks and, sector by sectors, the combats were stopping and tentative talks started.

The Senate was busy sending ambassadors left and right, companies were tentatively establishing commercial routes again, employment was going up and even Asajj Ventress was calming down, because after finally killing Dooku the only thing she apparently wanted was to roam the galaxy with a besotted Quinlan Vos trailing behind her like a besotted, if well-armed, puppy.  

How sad it was that a previously undiagnosed heart condition had taken Chancellor Palpatine before his time, before he could see the peace and harmony he had so wished for.

“Padmé will laugh so much when she hears you called her blaster an undiagnosed heart condition.”

“The joint investigation between the Judicial officers and the Jedi was thorough, Anakin. Heart condition.”

So, Anakin liked to eat worms, Ahsoka wasn’t far behind, the clones had only eaten rations for all their lives, and once a strange mushroom in Fives’ case. That had prompted hours of talking to the wall and giggling about stuff his foot was telling him, the right because the left was apparently quite rude. After seeing that, and also the way Fives had been ill after, none of the vode had wanted to test anything that wasn’t a ration sealed in vacuum and with the same taste every time, no matter what was written on the package.

Time for an intervention.

Obi-Wan had called his old friend Dex and asked for the permission to borrow his diner during the closing day.

Anakin had whined that it was a little hypocritical of Obi-Wan, who survived on tea, sass and more tea, with sometimes some algae biscuits thrown in it when Bant could corner him long enough, to comment on anyone’s eating habits.

“I didn’t whine!”

“You really did, my dear. And you do on a regular basis.”

Dex had said yes and even offered his diner, and more importantly his kitchen, every closing day when Obi-Wan was on Coruscant.

So, Obi-Wan had chosen his first tasters.

Ahsoka, of course, for who he had started all of that. Worms and beetles and other crawling things were fine in a pitch, he had himself sometimes indulged when Qui-Gon Jinn’s latest nonsense had thrown his Padawan self in the middle of a jungle with no rations. He could also admit that with the stress of the war, he had let his responsibilities erase his body’s normal hunger, but it was no more a time of war. Time to eat like a civilized sentient.

Anakin himself. Young Knight Obi-Wan, struggling with grief and -he could see it now- depression, had let this feral child keep his slave days habits in term of food: Anakin ate everything that couldn’t move away quick enough, in a latent fear there wouldn’t be something to fill his belly later. It was honestly heart-breaking.

It could also be heart-healing: the way the younger Jedi always insisted for Ahsoka to eat first… Obi-Wan will fight for every child in the galaxy to have enough, not like Anakin couldn’t when he was younger and now that the war is finishing, he hoped they could make a difference here.

Padme, because now that the so-called secret marriage was out in the open, he hoped he could spend more time with the young woman and deepen their nascent beginning friendship. The galaxy really could do with more friendship.

And Rex and Cody, the two vode they were closest to. Once those two had come back to the barracks in better shape than Fives after his mushrooms experience, the other vode could probably be convinced to try something else than rations.

Aaylala, who had just taken her first Padawan and would spend a year of Coruscant to better learn each other, had already put herself, the Padawan and Commander Bly on what she called jokingly “Master Kenobi’s dinner waiting list”. She wanted to explore with them the food of her home planet and reconnect with her culture.  Boil and Waxer could probably be convinced, too.

It meant the first experience had to be a success.

After his morning session with the Council, Obi-Wan had taken his afternoon off, that too being a new event in the Jedi Order. Most of the time, Bant or Anakin had too threaten to sit on him just for him going to bed. Everybody had sworn to never talk again about that time it had been so bad Master Windu himself really did have to sit on him for Obi-Wan just to take a nap.

“Speaking for yourself, Master, me, I’m never ever going to let you forget that one.”

He had slowly explored the closest market, feeling slightly nostalgic. Qui-Gon always had insisted food should be a fuel, not a passion. He had also said that taking pleasure in the taste, the smell, the hundreds of wonderful vegetables, fruits, meats, grains, offered by nature, that it was celebrating the joy of life, of the Force...

Obi-Wan realized he had forgotten that, in the despair of the war. Now, he took pleasure in choosing fresh produce for the people he loved. Around him, the market was bustling with life. People laughing, speaking, tasting, vendors celebrating their products… It was the season for one of the biggest food import of Coruscant. It was some citrus fruit which had the very rare peculiarity, a very rare one, to be edible for all known sentients. The smell was everywhere in the market, fresh and cleansing and Obi-Wan had taken a bite of one with a groan of pleasure the moment he had purchased them, the juice sweet and slightly acidic at the same time.

When he got to the dinner, he cooked with the same deep happiness of preparing something easy, nutritious and tasty for his family. He had decided to make it simple for the first time, not wanting to push the boundaries of Cody and Rex. Going from rations to a nine-course meal would probably be overkill.

Obi-Wan himself tended to a vegetarian diet, like Qui-Gon had, but he hadn’t always had a choice, and Ahsoka’s body needed an animal based died in a way human didn’t, so he had dismissed his all-time favourite recipe, a creamy vegetable pie a young Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi had learned from a young senatorial aid Bail Organa.

He prepared a stew which he had learned from Kit Fisto, with a lot of root vegetables and some river fish, aromatic bark from the Gold system and just a little touch of black salt. Soon, the entire diner smelled of Obi-Wan’s teenage years, when he and Bant did their homework and Kit Fisto prepared dinner.

Obi-Wan had a smile on his face, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. He should call Bant, soon. Perhaps she and some of their other childhood friends could come the next time….For dessert, he cleaned yellow, purple and red berries from Naboo, to honour Padmé, to be eaten with fresh cheese.

Nothing very complicated. Just simple food, to share and to rejoice in the new chance of the galaxy.

“To the peace?” Padmé proposed for toast at the beginning of the meal and all, they raised their glasses.

“To the peace,” they repeated in answer.

Seated between Cody and Rex, Obi-Wan explained sotto voce what exactly they were eating. He explained the planet of origin of every vegetable –

“Because everything has to be an occasion for a lecture.”

“Anakin, if you don’t stop, you will be in charge of the washing-up. And I used a lot of saucepans.”

Rex was very, very cautious with his first taste. He had been there when Fives had vomited everything he had ever eaten, and had been slightly alarmed once Obi-Wan had explained what a root vegetable was.

“Doesn’t seem very hygienic.” Was his opinion.

It changed after first taste and his plate was quickly cleaner than a ship before the admiral’s inspection.

Cody was more curious about why different sorts of vegetables had been designed.

“Waste of resources,” he decided, “one per species of sentient who wanted to eat them would have been sufficient.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t laughed. How could Cody, raised in the sterile environment of Kamino, know better about the extraordinary abundance of nature? In his own plate, he had picked a small section of one of the root vegetables he had chosen.

“This is a red stachys”, he explained, “the species comes from a planet all the way in the Outer Rim. It was only present on one of their landmasses, but as it isn’t attacked by fungus or insect pests, it’s now cultivated on all the planets and a lot of other agricultural worlds.”

Anakin made a face. He hated agricultural worlds, mostly for the smell. The desert boy loved his cities.

Obi-Wan smiled at his former Padawan’s face but continued:”Today, you can easily find seven, sometimes ten subspecies in Coruscant markets, but on the original world, where the people had centuries to select cultivars, you can find seventy-two cultivars. And it is only one of the vegetables you can find there.”

“Seventy-two!!”

Cody looked a little more at Obi-Wan’s spoon and the innocent little selection of vegetables swimming in the rich-tasting sauce.

“And every world…”

“Every world has its own food. Every ancient country, you could say. Every area. Sometimes every town has its own speciality.”

It was Cody’s turn to make a face. Not surprising: after years of ration, the abundance of possibilities seemed strange to his mind.

“It tends to be a little standardized today,” Obi-Wan admitted, “but a lot of people are working hard on preserving heirloom varieties and culinary traditions…”

Cody stabbed a bit of fish with his own cutlery and tasted it, chewing cautiously.

On the other side of the table, Padmé and Anakin were flirting. Anakin’s lines were terrible but Padmé’s own use of Naboo flowery poetry wasn’t exactly better.

Next to Cody, Rex and Ahsoka were whispering something about putting joy back in the Senate and something very suspicious about dye that Obi-Wan and Cody definitely weren’t hearing, because that one would be Commander Fox’s problem.

Cody tasted a yellow stachys, stolen directly from Obi-Wan’s plate because there were only red in his own plate. Then he tried again a red, pairing it with a green kidney-shaped pod.

“And that?” He asked, poking another pod.

“Magnolens. Seldom grown today, originated from the world of Glee Anselm.”

Cody seemed lost in thought, so Obi-Wan let him chew in peace, instead discussing literature with Padmé. They had all sworn they wouldn’t speak of work tonight, so every time they drifted to politics, Anakin interrupted them by stealing a kiss from Padmé.

It was a rousing and pleasant success.

“Master?” Ahsoka asked later, when she was helping with cleaning Dex’s kitchen. It would probably be neater than before their arrival.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Can I come to the market with you next time? And I think Rex would like it too.”

“Of course you can.” She gave him a sudden hug, surprising him.

From the kitchen, Obi-Wan could see the rest of them, Padmé and Cody lost in debate, Anakin just finishing his third helping of dessert.  Rex had taken apart his own dessert, testing the berries one by one.

His former Padwan sensed their gazes and turned to them, a smile on his face. His eyes were clearer than they had been in years, and Obi-Wan felt pride and happiness swell in him.

“You would be very welcome, my dear,” He answered his Grandpadawan.

[giuliafc]

Betrayal chapter 3 - Scandals and Sinners

<< 1 -- 2 -- 3: Ao3 || FFN -- 4 >>

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Agrestebug and myimaginationflows

Summary: Nathalie explains Gabriel's plan… and some secrets come out in the open.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks AND for LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly Day 14 — Sinner/scandal. Let me know what you think!

oOoOoOoOoOo

Ladybug, Chat, and Nathalie took the lift back to Gabriel's atelier and then gathered in the latter’s bedroom.

"Wasn't there something else you wanted to discuss?" Ladybug asked when Nathalie looked more comfortable, sitting up on her bed.

Nathalie nodded. "Yes. The reason why I reached out is because M. Agreste had crossed my personal line."

"Yes," said Ladybug, "Adrien mentioned that M. Agreste wanted to akumatise him."

Nathalie nodded again. "In reality, the real object of his attention is you, Marinette." The heroine held her breath. "I suppose you know a young lady called Lila Rossi?"

Ladybug winced and frowned, but nodded. "Yes, she's one of our classmates. She's a deceptive liar who's threatened me on many occasions."

Nathalie's lips curled in a hard smile. "You may not be so pleased to know that M. Agreste's deal with Mlle. Rossi goes way beyond his claim that she's 'the muse of his brand'. He has regular meetings with her and has asked her on several occasions to keep an eye on Adrien on his behalf." Her hard smile became a smirk when she heard the two teens gasp. "Last week, Mlle. Rossi produced a bit of information that raised M. Agreste's interest. Apparently she saw Chat Noir jumping out of Marinette's bedroom after wrapping her in a hug."

Both Ladybug and Chat Noir gasped. "Uh, yes he did. It was raining and I saw him wandering around all wet, so I offered him shelter and a towel to get dry." She looked between Chat Noir and Nathalie, and smiled sheepishly before continuing, "Now I don't know if it's wise to mention that I also offered him some croissants."

Nathalie glared at Chat Noir, who looked up and brought his hand to his nape. "I'll discuss this point with him later." She coughed. "Mlle. Rossi convinced M. Agreste that Marinette must be in a relationship with Chat Noir. And that's when M. Agreste remembered what he discovered when he last akumatised Luka Couffaine."

Chat Noir flashed his eyebrows in total confusion, but Ladybug's face became the colour of her suit. Nathalie noticed and continued, "It's not my place to say, but I can see that you got the message, Ladybug." The polka dotted heroine nodded and hid her face behind her hands. "They're planning to create a big scandal, make you look like a two-timer and akumatise you. I objected saying that Adrien could suffer from it, and may risk being akumatised himself. M. Agreste said that if that's where his heart lies, then he deserves to be. So I decided to contact you." She switched off her tablet and looked at Ladybug very seriously before warning, "I wouldn't be surprised if you started hearing about this story as early as tomorrow."

She made an enormous effort to move to the side of her bed. "Nathalie!" called Chat Noir darting to her side to help her stand up. "You should stay in bed and rest."

She gave him a genuine smile, one that Adrien had very rarely seen on her face, as she patted his hair gently. "I really should get up, Adrien. I need the toilet." She giggled at his obvious embarrassment and went out of the room.

When Nathalie left, Chat Noir turned to his Lady. "I thought I stopped you from saying anything compromising when Truth hit you."

Ladybug blushed to the roots of her hair. "Y-yes, you prevented me, Chaton. Not everyone else."

"Nobody knows your ident—"

"That's not the secret that Nathalie was talking about," interrupted Ladybug. "You don't know, because you'd left with Kagami, but before you came back, Truth asked Alya, Mylene, and Juleka what Marinette's secret was."

She dared glancing at him in between her fingers and emitted a loud squeal noticing that he was looking at her. "What did they say? I'm curious now..."

Ladybug took a massive breath. "She's in love with Adrien Agreste."

"WHA—? That's impossible…" Wide-eyed and pale, Chat Noir grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look up. Her face flushed even redder than before. "Oh my God… are you… really?"

She didn't see the bright smile that lit his face, because she crouched in on herself and started sobbing. "I hadn't even thought of the implications of Papillon knowing that I love you. I… thought it would be safe because he doesn't know my identity but I was wrong."

"YOU LOVE ME?"

She looked up at his words and nodded slowly; the gleam of pure adoration in his eyes made her blush darker.

"The other b-boy was Adrien Agreste," she whispered before he wrapped her into another tight hug. Then he touched his forehead again with hers, and got lost in the blue ocean of her eyes.

"You don't know how happy I am now!" The words coming out of his lips breathed on the skin of her chin. "Since we're making confessions, I have one of my own." His gaze took on an amused gleam. "I have sinned and pretty badly, M'lady."

"You s-sinned?"

He cupped a hand on her cheek. "Yes. You remember that day at the swimming pool?" He smiled when she nodded. "Well… that day I fell for Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Ladybug blinked. "Uh, I know you did. I mean, you fell in the water. On m—"

"Yes, but also figuratively, Ladybug. I fell head over heels in love with her. I don't know what it was but… when she tried to give me back my umbrella, I felt my heart soar and thunder in the distance. No wonder I banged my head against the car after that."

He closed his eyes and giggled, his hand running to the nape of his neck for comfort. But the giggle died in his throat when he felt soft lips on his. "How scandalous, Minou. Falling for two girls!" She brushed her lips against his. "Too bad that they're only one!"

Then, their lips met again and nothing else mattered in the world.

To be continued… day 15

-------------------------------------

Author's Note

There we are, the secrets are in the open now. We need to build a statue in honour of Nathalie ^^

I hope you will like this chapter and leave me a comment. You know that comments always make me happy! And after yesterday's episode, I need to cheer up from the angst!

Until tomorrow, bug out!

[mami-koppe]

Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

-------------------------------------------------

It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

-------------------------------------------------

He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

--------------------------------------------------

Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

--------------------------------------------------

He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

-------------------------------------------------

This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 4

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: All I can do is apologise for the wait for this one!  My mind was a mess - Ch 4 became Ch 5 so then I had to write Ch 4 and just...ug...well, you know.  I hope this isn’t too much for you all to take.  Cold towels are being provided.  I would also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo​ for her beautiful artwork that she so graciously allowed me to use from now on! <3

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds​ @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ and @effulgentcolors​ for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

————————————————————————————————–

Killian absentmindedly watched a patch of light on the ceiling of Emma’s bedroom, the silver oval shape fixed to the spot above them. It illuminated a blemish on the plastering of the ceiling that made Killian wonder if Emma’s apartment wasn’t some sort of metaphor for her life, the daytime showing the grandeur and superfluous life she led at Graham’s behest, and the innocently pale moonlight highlighting the rot in the darkness of her marriage. In truth, the fact that Emma made no secret of her distaste at her marriage just spurred Killian on to hold her tighter.

Killian wasn’t even sure if Emma felt the same, but what he was sure of, was, that for the last few hours she had been chatting, her fingers idling in the soft curls of his chest hair, sometimes slipping beneath the sheet at his waist in exploration of what was at the end of the line of hair there, he would listen to her forever. He couldn’t make head nor tail of his emotions, not only for the simple fact that Emma was a Beta, but also because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling she was something more.

Will had warned him about this, and maybe it was because Killian had never fucked anything outside of his toys when he wasn’t in a relationship. He might be an Alpha, but Killian was also a man of honour. Will might like to fuck everything that moves but Killian was more interested in finding that special someone who would complete both his heart and his soul, ultimately a mate who would know him better than he knew himself. Of course, it was absurd to think Emma could be that person, but she was addictive and he never wanted to be hooked on anyone else.

“Why did you come here tonight?” Emma asked softly as she rolled in Killian’s arms until she was on her stomach. He raised his arm a little to accommodate her in his hold, enjoying the warmth of her skin on his fingertips when he ran dragged them over the ridges of her spine.

“What do you mean, love?” Killian asked her innocently. “You know why I came.”

“Yeah, but,” Emma began, her fingers combing through the hairs on his chest. “I mean,” she stammered shyly.

“You mean, I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow?” Killian offered with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well that’s good to know,” Killian smiled proudly, his hand tracing the curve of her shoulder. “I’d hate to think I wasn’t doing my utmost to thoroughly please you.”

“Mmm,” Emma hummed with a daydream smile but that faded as quickly as his words had sunk in.

She had waited her entire life for someone like Killian to come along and sweep her off her feet. Alpha or not, she was sure they had some sort of connection. There had never been an opportunity for her to date as she grew up, and because of her illness, a lot of the time she was unable to attend the many social events that the Humbert's so graciously invited her to. Maybe it was why she had so eagerly agreed to marry Graham when he had proposed to her, knowing she had no other choice.

Maybe it was why, for the first time in her life, right now, in Killian’s arms, she felt like she had a choice.

“Hey,” Killian coaxed her from her reverie with the soft lilt of his groggy post-sex voice. He brushed the smooth pad of his thumb over the corner of her mouth until she looked at him, her cheeks prickling with pink as she offered him a small smile. “That’s better,” he smiled back before leaning towards her and pressing his lips to hers.

Immediately, Killian felt Emma’s smile widen and when he felt the softness of her palm against his cheek as she cupped his face, he kissed her harder. Emma giggled against his lips, a giddy, jovial sound that had Killian rearranging himself until he was towering over her, never breaking the kiss as he caged her in his embrace. Emma clutched the side of his face, pulling him down with her when she fell back into the softness of the pillows, spreading her legs wide to accommodate his bulk when he settled into the apex of her thighs.

Emma was the first one to part her lips and tease the seam of Killian’s with her tongue, gently lapping at his smirk until he opened up his mouth and let her in with a manly chuckle. Her hands left his face and danced down his shoulders, traced the outline of his ribs, and smoothed over the curve of his abdomen until her fingers tickled at the hair there. Killian sucked in a breath, pulling his lips from hers and fixing Emma with a raised eyebrow stare.

“Again?” Killian said darkly.

Emma bit her bottom lip and writhed, scooting down the bed until the wetness between her thighs was level with Killian’s hips and she knew he could feel the heat from her. The slowly hardening girth of him bobbed up when he clenched his muscles and barely brushed her sex, making her gasp all the same. Emma cast her eyes down between them, focusing on the one thing between them that might end her ever aching need for something she couldn’t explain but knew only Killian could fix.

“Alright,” he smirked, his voice soft yet firm. “But first you must do something for me.”

“Anything, Alpha” Emma breathed, not even realising the sort of effect her words could have on an Alpha.

For a second Killian was thrown. He was only going to ask her to get him going, but the second she had obeyed, whether she meant to or not, he was rock solid in seconds. Logically, he knew that Emma was not an Omega, but he couldn’t help but dream for a second. She wasn’t some Beta who had a scumbag husband that treated her like shit. She was more than precious, everything, the personification of happiness and love. She was an Omega, begging, pleading, wanting him to please her just as much as she eagerly pleased in return.

She was his.

“Killian?” Emma began sheepishly, touching her open hand to the side of his cheek.

It shook him from his thoughts just long enough for him to realise that her smile had faded and a real look of concern was plastered all over her face. Her eyes had dulled, the lust now gone and the darkness of worry having crept into its place. It took him a second of listening to the thumping of his own blood in his ears to realise that he had frozen, poised above her with his length pressed to her slightly damp sex and a stupified look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Emma blushed, a heat creeping down her neck and across the top of her chest. “Did I-?”

“No, love, you could never,” he assured her quickly. His hands found her face, brushing some stray strands of her golden locks from her brow, his heartbreaking from the look in her eyes.

“Then what is it?” Emma said shyly, a blush pinking her cheeks at his compliment. “Talk to me.”

How could he? How was he supposed to explain to a Beta just how he was feeling? Emma would have no idea. Alpha’s were not supposed to be like this, cradled in the arms of a woman who was paying him to please her. Correction. Her husband was paying him, and the mere thought of the ungrateful swine made Killian’s blood boil in his veins. Emma was sweet, and worth so much more than what Graham could ever offer her, physically and emotionally, but Killian couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

“It’s nothing,” Killian said sweetly. His hand stilled on her cheek, cradling the shape of her face in his palm, thumbing the edge of her pretty lips until he saw her smile. “I swear it,” he added and had never meant anything so much in his entire life.

“Oh,” Emma sighed, but before she could continue, Killian was reassuring her again.

“It’s just, you don’t have to say those things with me.” He swallowed hard, a warmth spreading up his spine. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her if that was what she wanted, but she had never mentioned it before now without his prompting, something he had thought she wanted during their encounters, so he could only assume she thought that was what he wanted to hear. “Call me Alpha, I mean.”

“Are you not an Alpha?” Emma teased, canting her hips against his length again.

“Aye, love,” he laughed timidly, shifting his hips away from her advances. “But this whole arrangement is about making you feel good, not me.”

“And does me calling you Alpha make you feel good?” Her smile was too much and he was sure that by the way he was blushing, she already knew the answer. “It does, doesn’t it?” Emma pried, letting her hands dance over the soft jut of his hips. “Calling you Alpha has you all hot and bothered for real, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not supposed to,” Killian told her with a quirk of his brow and a scratch behind his ear.

That had Emma intrigued and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, repositioning herself against the pillows and letting Killian roll off to her side.

“What does that mean?” She asked with a tilt of her head. Emma watched as Killian settled on his side, resting his head on his hand and giving her a confident smile. “What?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him but all she got back was his beautiful, cheeky grin. “Tell me!”

She giggled, sitting up so she could push feebly against his shoulder before tumbling down on top of him.

“Love, there is something you should know about Alphas like me, for hire, I mean.” Killian sucked in a breath, stroking some hairs from her face.“We aren’t...We aren’t supposed to have feelings for our clients.” Killian licked his lips and nervously avoided her gaze, the spread of warmth over his cheeks probably as obvious as it felt.

“Killian, what are you saying?” Emma teased, enjoying the way he squirmed.

“I don’t know exactly,” Killian shrugged with a chuckle, his whole body rumbling and making the bed bounce. His hand found her skin, attracted like a magnet, and he dragged the tip of his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. “I can’t explain it. All I know is that since I first laid eyes on you I have felt things, things I am bloody well sure no Alpha has ever felt for a beta before.”

Emma frowned, her brows pulling together, and she pushed herself up to mirror Killian’s pose. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” he began, trying to not look at her exposed breasts. Emma had no qualms about being naked around him, and he found it ever so endearing that she felt so comfortable when he was around. “Alphas are not exactly complicated, we rut, we fuck, and we are inherently attracted to that one person that we want to protect, above all else, and we will do anything in our power to keep them safe. “ Killian met her gaze once more, the blue of his eyes shining in the darkness. “Emma, I’ve known Alphas to die protecting that person.”

Emma’s throat went dry and she struggled to swallow. All of the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, not in a panic response, but instead, arousal. Want. Need. “Why are you telling me this?” she uttered, unable to stop her free hand from resting comfortably on Killian’s chest where her fingers gently stroked the hair there.

“I don’t know that either.” Killian shook his head. He was so confused and flattened his hand over hers, pinning hers to his chest where his heart thumped a steady rhythm against her fingertips. “Maybe I figured you could help me work out what I’m feeling.”

Killian offered her a small smile, warm and welcoming, a silent plea to her to aid him in deciphering his heart. It was all he wanted, really, for Emma to accept him and the love he knew he already felt for her, obstacles be damned. Here she was, glorious and glowing, like a naked angel in bed next to him who could end him, right where he lay, and he would willingly let her. If only their lives were not so complicated.

“Killian Jones, you don’t know a lot, do you?” Emma’s voice shook him from his daydream and he copied the grin that was plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, love, it doesn’t seem that I do.” Killian flopped down onto the bed, sinking into the pillows with a huff. The only word he could use to describe his current predicament was conflict, between his head and his heart. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted Emma like no other, and he would willingly give up ever finding an Omega mate just to be with her. There was a connection there, he knew it deep down in his soul, and had tried to ignore the pounding of his heart in his chest whenever she was near. Emma slipped further under the thin sheet that covered them and moved to straddle his waist with a groan of content that he was sure was involuntary because he had heard it before, but was like music to his Alpha ears nonetheless. Her hands found his face, lightly pawing over the scruff of his cheeks as she tenderly kissed the underside of his jaw.

“Well, what do you know?” Emma purred, the lobe of his ear catching on the skin between her fingers. Her mouth soon followed and through her smirk, she began nibbling his ear.

“Honestly?” Killian gulped with his eyes pinched closed, hating himself for grabbing her hand and halting her torturous assault. Emma stopped, easing herself up off his chest and sitting back, her heels tucked under her bare ass as her feet rested across his thighs, her nails clawing at the hair on his stomach because she couldn’t get enough of how soft they felt. The half hurt look she gave him made his chest tighten, but he needed her to focus on his words. “I know I want to keep you safe, more than anything,” Killian said earnestly, pushing his weight up after her until they were face to face and he was cupping her head in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks in unison and he held her tightly to ensure she not only heard his next words but felt them too. “I know that no man deserves you, least of all him.”

Killian’s heart stopped when he heard her hold her breath and a lump caught in his throat. He’d gone too far, exposed too much, been too fucking Alpha, wearing his heart out on his sleeves, and now he’d be back to just being her fuck toy that her husband was paying for. The idea stung more than anything he had ever experienced. Panic settled in his entire being, running so deep that even the beds of his fingernails itched when Emma looked away, casting her eyes downward.

“He’s my husband, Killian,” she murmured, her voice laced with sadness but her hands clutched his and held them to her face in a silent plea to never let go.

Killian felt her sorrow, he really did. It oozed from her every pore, every muscle tense and yet yearning for the release of his touch at the same time. She was caught up between the man she was obligated to be with and the man she was with right now, and the pain and torment were evident, radiating from her very being. Emma didn’t even have to say it; Killian knew exactly how she felt.

“I know, and I’m sorry, love, but he is so unworthy of you.” Killian's voice cracked a little, his words fighting to escape passed the lump that had formed in his throat. He rolled his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he inhaled her scent, the musk of sex and release all over her body, put there by his lips when he had worshipped her body with his kisses after they had fucked earlier that evening. She was more than she had been led to believe, more than she had ever known, but telling her constantly circled back to her husband and Killian hated himself for making her remember her sadness.

“What makes you think I am worth anything?” Emma whimpered, small and meek, her words nothing but a breath against his lips.

Killian felt her shudder when he trailed his hands down the column of her neck, brushing the hair that sat lazily there over the curve of her shoulder, his lips soon following to kiss her over where her pulse was quickening under the skin there. He inhaled her again, taking in every level of fragrant note that her body was offering up, and he couldn’t help but scrape his nails over the bumps of her spine as he held her, his hungry mouth impossibly wishing he was about to mark her as his. “Emma,” Killian chuckled in disbelief, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips and catching the taste of her salt sheened skin in the process. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and I can’t help but wish our paths had crossed before now.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head as he kissed her, her fingers plunging into his already sex messed hair and forcing his lips to sear her skin again. “Maybe in another life?” She panted, the hope evident in her voice that was also laced with regret.

“And why not this one?” Killian offered and Emma’s head snapped up, eyes wide with something Killian couldn’t quite recognise, a mixture of anguish and yearning balancing on the edge of anger. She wanted it too but was just as confused as to the logistics as Killian was. “Love, I don’t mean to sound crass, but your husband is away from you for over eighteen hours a day and I, for one, would despair if you were out of my sight for even a second.”

Emma’s face paled and Killian felt her flesh ripple with goosebumps under his hold. For a second he wasn’t sure if he had gone too far and suggested the ultimate betrayal in Emma’s eyes, or offered her the reason she has longed to hear. The reason to finally be free of the corruption that came with being a Humbert’s wife and live her life with whoever she wanted. The conflict was plastered all over her face and Killian’s heart twinged with remorse.

“I’m sorry, love, I shouldn’t have-,” Killian began in apology but he was taken by surprise when Emma pulled his head upwards and pressed her finger to his lips, sealing them shut.

“Shut up, Killian,” she snapped, but her voice wasn’t filled with anything except sultry darkness that made Killian hard again. She let him rest his face in her hands and offered him a coy smirk, their eyes locked once more, blue turning grey when Killian saw the lust behind Emma’s before she let her hands slip to his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. “Shut up and fuck me,” she demanded, wiggling her hips over his solid length, rolling her bottom lip under her toothy grin. “Fuck me like you want to.”

Killian thought he was going to pop his knot. Her words were so erotic, so unlike the manipulative woman he had been lead to believe Emma was, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed her demand. There was a blur in time, between where they were and where they ended up, where Emma had fallen forward onto the bed and Killian had crawled up over her back like a rabid animal. She squealed in excitement, clenching her buttocks and burying her face in the pillow that had been, somewhere in the exchange, slung to where she lay. Killian had her pinned, his powerful thighs on either side of her hips and his hands kneading slow, deliberate circles into the middle of her back.

“That’s a dangerous proposition,” he growled, fingers flexing around her ribcage. He leaned down and kissed her spine, pecking his lips to her skin between each ridge until he reached her shoulder blades and carefully moved her hair aside with a swipe of his hand.

“Why?” Emma breathed dumbly, trying to writhe beneath him, her hand finding his thigh beside her hip and clutching it, desperate to feel any part of him on her skin.

Killian nuzzled his nose behind her ear, the sound he made as he let out a husky laughing sound making her entire body vibrate with anticipation. His lips skimmed over the shell of her ear and he planted a hand to each side of her head, towering over her, mindful not to suffocate her with his entire weight. Emma he let out a moan and he smirked, open mouthed and wide against the side of her cheek, where she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

“Because, love, I’ve wanted to fuck you the way I want since the moment I first saw you,” Killian began, balancing his weight on one arm so he could stroke his knuckles down the side of her neck, right over the spot where she would have a scent gland if she were an Omega. He ground his engorged cock into the crease of her arse with clenched teeth, eyes cast down between them to watch, imagining her begging for his knot because she was so desperate to come that she couldn’t take it anymore.

“So?” Emma challenged, wiggling her restricted hips until she felt her cheeks slapping his cock and Killian groan.

Killian held her hips still, his fingernails digging into her flesh. “The contract-,”

“Fuck the contract,” Emma scoffed. “In fact,” she declared, rolling over underneath him. “Let’s break it. What’s stopping you fucking me the way you want?”

Killian’s lips ticked up into a wry smile. “It specifically states that I am not allowed to come inside of you.”

“Oh,” Emma sighed with a blush.

“Something I would sell my soul to do,” he said darkly, rearranging himself so he was between her legs. Emma spread them wider to accommodate him, his length scorching a hot line into the inside of her thigh and his tip begging for entrance between her folds when he settled over her once more. “Something that means I’d have to knot you,” he continued, reaching between them and stroking his fingers through her folds, his lips millimetres from hers when he felt her gasp and suck all the air between them into her lungs. “Something I think you would like very much.”

Before she had time to form a reply, Killian’s lips were on hers and he was delivering a crushing kiss that made her see even more stars than she already was. He had a way of leaving her dazed with just his words and she couldn’t get enough, even hearing his voice in her head when they were apart. Emma parted her lips to allow his tongue inside where it duelled with her own, his neck muscles strained under her fingers when she clawed his skin in her eagerness to get more of him. Nothing else mattered. He was all she wanted, so when he broke the kiss and left his mark lingering against her lips, she whimpered in protest.

“Emma, can I knot you?” Killian ground out, canting his hips until the tip of him slipped inside of her.

Emma bit her bottom lip and nodded her reply.

“It might hurt,” Killian warned her, angling his hips again so that more of his erection was inside her.

Emma felt her body sizzle with heat and angeled her own hips so he was even deeper inside of her, relishing in the burn that came with his girth, her hand gripping his bicep through the welcomed pain. “It’d fucking better,” she ground out in frustration.

Killian smirked, watching her face contort with every inch of him that slid inside of her. There were not many people who could take an Alpha’s cock, not all of it anyway, but there were some, like Emma, who would revel in the pain, and he loved watching them take him in. No one though had taken quite so much as Emma. She was made differently it seemed, needed him it seemed, perfectly accommodating his girth and his length, getting wetter as he pushed his way in.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, love?” Killian grinned wickedly, letting himself relax a little now that he was half way in. As much as he enjoyed being as close to Emma’s face as possible whilst she took him in, he knew that she was nearing her Beta threshold for him at this angle. Her body could only take so much, so after he saw her tell, when her brows knitted together in just such a way, he sat back, skimming his hands down her legs as he did.

The sound Emma made was intoxicating, her small nod his only answer. He wasn’t even entirely sure she had even heard him speak at first, but when he settled himself back on his heels and slipped from her core, she whined with the loss of him.

“What...what’s wrong?” Emma breathed, already halfway gone. Her eyes fluttered open and she struggled to focus on the Alpha between her legs.

Killian let his head roll to one side, lazily stroking his length that sat proudly in his hand. “Nothing,” he assured her with a smirk. “You just need a moment.”

“I didn’t earlier,” she winked, biting her finger coyly.

“You didn’t want my knot earlier,” Killian reminded her with a raised brow.

Emma sat up, shuffling back on the bed. “Hmm,” she hummed. Her foot found his leg, tracing a line up the inside of his thigh until she found the apex, the heel of it resting against his balls and her toes curling against his cock. "So, what your saying is there is more of you?" She bit her lip, kneading his length with her foot. "You have more to give?"

Her eyes were practically wide with glee at the mere thought of getting any more of the man in front of her. Of the Alpha. Killian knew she was trying to flatter him, and her foot tickling his cock didn't help him stay focused on the task at hand, which was making sure Emma fully understood what it meant to take all of him. He had met plenty of Beta women who thought they would be the one to take the whole Alpha cock, and he knew just as many, if not more Alphas who would boast about splitting a Beta wide open with their girth.

Killian moved his hand to her foot, halting her assault on his genitals, a move that offered him a pout from the blonde beauty before him. "What I'm saying, is, I've never given you all of me before."

"Selfish, Mr. Jones," Emma chided playfully.

"I'm not joking when I say it will hurt you, Emma, and that's the last thing I want." Killian watched the energy burn out from behind her eyes, his thumb brushing back and forth over the same patch of skin on her ankle in silent apology.

"You could never hurt me," Emma told him softly, a small smile accompanying her words. They were real, her flirtatiousness simmering just below the surface for now, and she gave him a small nod of agreement. "I know you, Killian, and you're a good man. What was it you told me the first time we did this?"

Killian frowned, confusion covering his face, so Emma out him out of his misery.

"You told me that the best thing to minimise my pain was an orgasm, and fuck, Killian, if you didn't make sure I was, how did you put it? 'Nice and wet', I think, were your words."

"You remember that?"

"Cringey, I know, but they were not a lie." Emma smiled at him, that genuine smile that he already knew she reserved just for him. "I don't think I've ever come so hard in all my life."

Killian gave her a wicked, sly grin, and tugged her leg, hard a fast, until she was sliding down the pillows and back into her original position with him between her legs. He gave his wrist a quick flick, pumping his length back into hardness at the sight of her legs falling open, the scent of her setting off his saliva glands and making him swallow hard.

"Would the lady like a repeat performance?" Killian growled, sliding his fingers through her folds to collect some of her nectar there.

It glistened on his fingers as he smeared it up and over her clit, the nerve hub screaming out when the cool air of the room hit it's scolding temperature. Emma craned her neck to see what he was doing to her, the slow drag of his hand up and down his cock making her shudder with excitement. She was ready to vibrate herself into non existence, her back arching off the bed when Killian slapped her clit with his erection once, twice, three times before she reached down, knocked Killian's hand aside, and slid his cock through the dampness below right to where she needed him the most.

"Fuck me-," Emma exhaled hard, slamming her head into the pillows behind her.

She had never guided anyone into herself before, unless he was made of silicone, and she let out a steady moan at the repeat sensation of Killian filling her up once more. At around half his length, he stopped, watching her intently for any sign of pain, until pulling almost all the way out and then slipping back into her. With every shallow thrust, Killian felt Emma relax a little more, even canting her hips in time with his and allowing him to slip in and over her g-spot a little bit quicker each time.

Killian could have used his tongue or even his hand, but he knew that with a little gentle persuasion, Emma body would and could bend to his will. She was ablaze, burning up from the inside out, and with every steadily increasing thrust came an equally elevated pitch in groans. Killian paused briefly to set her feet on his hips, restricting his entry to only a comfortable length whilst allowing him to quicken his pace and thus ensuring Emma remained unhurt. A quick, calculated move saw his thumb finding her clit, striking over the nerve bundle in time with his thrusts, watching, waiting for the telltale shake in Emma's thighs that signalled her release.

"Good girl," Killian soothed when Emma let out a moan. He increased his speed, short, shallow thrusts that stretched her in such a way that she cried out with near completion. "Such a delicious smelling cunt too, and you’re not even there yet."

“So close,” she breathed, her whole body twitching.

“You’re lovely, Emma, like this,” Killian praised, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her stomach. Her skin burned his but was instantly cooled by the thin layer of sweat that Emma’s body had created to try and cool the inferno hers was engulfed in. “For me,” he growled possessively into her navel.

“Only you,” Emma cried, so close to the edge she tried and failed to balance the level of her voice.

Killian had told himself over and over that her words would never have any effect on him, no matter what she might say, but Emma had a way of getting inside of his skin that he had never known before. Everything about her called the beast inside him, his baser instincts clawing their way closer to the surface with every sound she made or touch she made to his body. It wasn’t her intention to make him feel any of the things he was, he was sure of it, but damn if he wasn’t already addicted to everything about her.

“Kiss me,” Emma sighed, her voice so quiet that Killian wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. When she reached out for him, eyes closed and fingers extended to what lie beyond her open legs, grinning when she made contact with the soft fur of his stomach, a grin broke out over her perfect lips through hurried pants. “Kiss me, Killian, now!”

Her words were a demand, and usually not a turn on for him, but Killian found himself complying, dropping forward, bracing his hands on either side of her face and pressing his mouth to hers, open ever so slightly, tongues tasting, exploring, half of his cock still inside of her as Emma came undone beneath him. Her body spasmed, her thighs shaking and clamping to the side of his hips, feet hanging limply over the curve of his calves as Killian stroked her down from her high, whole hand massaging the length of her upper legs with a satisfied groan.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed contently. “I love being kissed when I come.”

“Duly noted,” Killian nodded, pushing himself back up and taking her in. Emma got more and more beautiful with every encounter, he was sure. “Although, if you want my knot,” he droned seductively, shuffling back until he pulled out of her and tried to ignore her whine of detest as he encouraged her to roll onto her stomach. “You’re going to need another one.”

Killian’s hands were on her back, massaging circles with just the right amount of force to make her shiver with every sweep of his talented fingers. In the little time he had known her, Killian had discovered that when Emma came, she came hard, so he figured a little relaxing but sensual massage between orgasms was justified. He kneaded the skin of her thighs, a little rougher than he had ever before because he knew she liked it that way, and rejoiced in the noises she made, half whimpering and half growling as she buried her face into the plush cushion.

“Stop,” she whined, her words muffled by the pillow.

Killian let out a hearty laugh that shook his whole body and had his cock bobbing against her plump, round arse. “You don’t mean that,” he chuckled, his voice gravelly and darkened by his own arousal. “Do you, love?” He teased, kissing between each bump of her spine until he reached its base, and content her nerves were heightened enough to make her shudder, ghosted his lips over the skin there with the promise of more.

Emma lifted her head when he paused. “Fuck, no.” She gave him a sultry glare over her shoulder, blonde hair slightly askew and fallen over her face.

“Good. Now,” Killian began through a grunt as he skimmed his hands over the curve of her hips, pressing firmly into her flesh and hoisting her arse into the air. Emma squealed excitedly and he couldn’t stop the throb of pleasure that overtook him again. “Present.”

Emma gulped hard, burying her face back into the pillow and making sure she was in the position Killian wanted, even if he had said this wasn’t about making him feel good, she still wanted to make him. She’d read things about Alphas, about how knotting was a personal thing and that they could control it, so if she wanted it, then she was willing to play her part in getting it.

Killian couldn’t help the snarl that audibly escaped his mouth when Emma wiggled her arse at him and when she moved her knees apart, and her scent hit him, he was even more gone. Emma was incredible, Beta or not, and he was finding it hard to contain his knot beneath his grip as he grabbed the base of his cock and willed it away. The last thing he wanted was a premature pop, and as if his body wasn’t his own, he found himself kneading one of the globes her arse with his free hand and licking his lips when her glistening nectar began to drip from her and gravitate towards the bed.

“Gods, love, you’re so, so wet,” he gulped, the last word catching in his throat. The only reply he got from Emma was another muffled hum of agreement, and when he slipped a greedy, exploratory finger through her silky folds and then to his lips, he immediately needed more.

Killian rearranged himself, scooting back until he was on all fours behind her and face to face with her dripping sex. A hand on each cheek spread her wider for him, his tongue wasting no time in diving in to taste what he had craved for most of the evening. She tasted like their earlier fuck, the coppery tang of blood where his girth had stretched her finding refuge on his tongue. Emma pushed back into his face, swaying her hips to try and gain some sort of increased friction, but Killian held her still with a firm grip on her hips, swallowing her down like a hungry wolf.

“Don’t move, sweetheart, I’m not done tasting you yet.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head when his tongue found her again, the flat edge lapping over her clit with each swipe, the tip stiffening to delve into her centre immediately afterwards. Killian was certainly all about making her feel good, with both his actions and his words. Fuck, she had never experienced talk like it, such eroticism that had her wondering how much of it was real and how much of it was because he was being paid. Not that she cared because as Killian left her, cold air invading the parts he had lavished upon with his tongue, her whine of anguish was rewarded with the tip of him pressing into her once more.

“Oh, fuck,” she sang through gritted teeth.

When he was halfway into her again, Killian paused and let her relax to his size. “Emma?” He coaxed, rubbing the small of her back through her groan and holding her steady as she tried to push back onto him. “Love?”

“Yes?” She didn’t even recognise the pleasure induced hiss that left her mouth as her own voice.

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you, won’t you?” Killian’s voice had changed, miraculously kind and unlike any other Alpha in this position. Closer to his rut, instinct would have taken over and would have had him buried to the hilt inside of her, pushing to fill her with his seed, like all Alphas craved. The fact that he was able to control his need surprised even him because Emma was a specimen to behold and he wasn’t sure how long he could actually last now that she was wet, primed and wanton in front of him, begging for his knot. “Please, say it.”

“Yes,” Emma sighed in a daze. “Please...just...don't stop.”

Killian hadn’t even realised his plea was out loud until Emma nodded into the pillow tucked under her chin and let out a silent, orgasmic scream as she inched back onto his length guided by his hands. She was ready and she wanted him, knot and all, and in the exact moment the wiry hairs on his stomach brushed against the smooth, pert skin of her behind, Killian knew Graham could take his contract and shove it right up his wannabe Alpha arse.

“Fuck,” Killian hissed, dragging a clawed hand down her spine as gently as he could muster with her heat enveloping the whole of him. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he grunted in a quaking voice. He felt dizzy, the room spinning, and he leaned forward and rested his forehead to her back to steady himself. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he repeated with a sly grin that he pressed to her skin for a rewarding kiss.

Emma had no words, just her body, so she clenched her muscles to jumpstart him back into action. Their limited window to be together was closing, and she’d be damned if she was letting Killian go without getting what he had promised. Emma leaned forward, arching her back and grinding herself back onto Killian length with a content sigh, the first few thrusts really opening her up all the way to her insides, but the few that followed were more comfortable. Killian let her set the pace, watching as his cock disappeared inside of her with every bob, her breath leaving her lungs every time he bottomed out inside of her, pulling his knot back to the surface where it threatened to pop once more.

“Killian, I…,” Emma panted, her movements back into his length becoming erratic at best.

“It’s alright, love,” Killian soothed, helping her onto all fours and nudging her legs even further apart with his knees. “Just let go,” he bid, taking over her movements and setting a new pace that had her toes curling. “I’ve got you,” he promised.

She was close, he could tell, and if there was any way he was going to be able to last, he needed to make sure that they came together. Killian skimmed his hands over her back again, her porcelain skin shimmering in the darkness as he hooked his hands over her shoulders and pulled her back onto his length, ending each thrust with a powerful snap of his hips. Emma gasped but he’d heard it before and knew it wasn’t in pain, just the sound she made as she scaled the heights of her own pleasure, and he wanted more.

Killian grit his teeth, jaw muscles clenched so tightly he thought he might crack one at any moment, but in the split second it took him to wrap his hand around Emma’s hair, bunching it into a loose ponytail in his fist and changing the angle of his hips, she was coming, shaking uncontrollably as he pounded into her the last few times before, coated in her juices that seemed endless, Killian’s knot exposed itself and he cried out, pushing it into her deliciously welcoming core.

The second he was inside of her he felt panic, not because he had so brazenly flaunted Humbert’s contract, but because the way Emma’s muscles massaged his length and coaxed out his own release, something he has convinced himself he could forego but had been helpless to avoid.

“Don’t come in my wife.”

Graham’s words echoed in his head, which was still spinning from Emma, as intoxicating as she was. She collapsed and let out a cry of pain when he fell on top of her, eager to not hurt her more by pulling out his knot too soon.

“Easy, love,” Killian said softly, though his voice was a little shaky. “Lie still.”

He managed to get them onto their side, tucking Emma’s legs up to her chest as far as she was comfortable with and delicately trailing his hand over her shivering shoulders. On closer inspection her whole body was quivering, her skin slightly damp and her scent had changed too. It was puzzling, feral in nature and something that Killian was sure he was imagining. When Emma pressed herself into him, her shoulder blades sticking to the slight dampness of his chest hair, she smiled and hummed, the sound vibrating right through them.

“How do you feel?” Killian worried. He couldn’t help it. His Alpha self was screaming out to care, to nurture and to protect, even though he was probably the one causing her most harm right now. “Are you alright?”

“Mmmmmm,” Emma hummed again, moving her head so Killian could rest his arm down underneath it. She replaced her head on his arm, interlocked their fingers, and pressed her lips to his bicep.

“Is that good?” Killian smirked, squeezing her fingers.

He knew he felt good, Gods above, she made him feel things he never had before. Better than good, in fact. Emma had a way of making him forget every one of his woes and why he had taken this job in the first place. He couldn’t think of anywhere else he would have rather been in that moment, wrapped up and knot deep inside of the beautiful woman who hadn’t just captured his heart, but had held it out, vulnerable and fragile, and hadn’t taken advantage of the fact, gracious enough to only take the love she thought she deserved, even if Killian knew she was worth far more than she had ever been led to believe before.

“It’s good,” Emma nodded, nuzzling into the crook of his elbow and bending his arm until she could kiss his fingers joins with his. She let her lips linger, enjoying the way he tasted when she let his arm fall back down to the bed and her tongue swept across her bottom lip.

“You’re comfortable?” Killian fretted, but that just earned him a swat from her free hand.

“Will you stop? Killian, I’m fine. More than fine,” she beamed, enjoying the way her muscles still fluttered because of his invading knot.

“What’s more than fine?” Killian teased, nuzzling into her hair that had fallen over her shoulders and kissing her neck.

His question threw her for a second because she struggled to find the correct words to accurately describe what she felt. It might have been love, but Emma wasn’t sure she had ever known that before. It felt good, she knew that much, but was more than lust. A comfortable silence fell over them, wherein Killian busied himself with fluffing the sheet over the top of them whilst making sure he moved the absolutely smallest amount, so as not to cause her any undue pain. Emma felt her lips curve into a beaming smile and reached behind her, threading her fingers in his hair and holding his face back to her neck where he peppered her with more kisses.

“This,” Emma cooed. “This is perfect.”

Killian couldn’t have agreed more. His hand slipped under the sheet and over her ribcage, his forearm settling under her breasts as he pulled her to his chest even harder, reluctant to let her go. He shifted his legs a little, trying to tangle them around hers, but the movement made Emma wince and stiffen in his arms.

“Love?” Killian asked concerned.

“I’m okay,” Emma told him softly, stroking his forearms in reassurance. “Just a little,-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Killian whispered into her hair. He kissed the back of her head and hooked a hand under her knee, moving it closer to her chest and relieving some of the tearing sensations she was feeling at her entrance. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured her, never wanting his knot to recede so he could hold her like this forever.

“I promise I’m okay,” Emma smiled, pecking his hairy forearm with a kiss. “I wanted this. It’s not that bad, just…”

“Just what, love?” Killian smirked, craning his neck to watch a blush bloom out over her cheeks and his hands explored further up her thigh to where they were joined.

“It feels so good,” Emma began but the last word caught in her throat when Killian’s fingers brushed around her entrance, the still hypersensitive nerves pounding with blood and excitement of his touch. She was inexplicably wet, still so very wet, and she felt his smirk turn into a full blown smile as he nudged his nose into the skin behind her ear at his discovery of her juices coating her inner thigh.

“So I can feel,” Killian teased with a dark tone that had a shiver rattling down her spine. He nudged his hips forward and made sure he was inside of her even deeper than before, his hand gripping her inner thigh so tightly he was worried he might blemish her skin. “Gods, you’re amazing,” he growled, inhaling her scent. “You’re going to keep me hard for hours.”

Emma gasped when he pushed deeper, the nerves inside of her core igniting, synapsing firing and a new wave of lubrication seeping from their join. She pinched her eyes closed, white dots sparkling behind her eyelids, another orgasm seemingly just beyond the horizon of anything she had known before. Killian, knot and all, rock solid inside of her was enough for her body to react again, even without the friction of his thrusts, and when his hand explored between her folds, it was just too much.

“I can’t come again,” Emma whined, her own words foreign in her ears. Not that she could even hear anything but the high pitched buzz of a pending release, the build up alone rendering her deaf. Her head fell back onto his chest and Killian just grinned against her skin, scraping his teeth over the curve of her shoulder joint when he finally found her clit.

“Yes, you can,” Killian commanded, circling an essence covered finger over her clit, softly at first. “The sounds you make, the way your body falls apart, Emma-,” Killian growled her name through clenched teeth and she felt her stomach fall away when his hips ground into her.

“Keep talking,” Emma whimpered, holding his hand between her legs where his fingers were deftly stroking her clit up and down, nudging the bundle from side to side and making her squeal.

“Fuck,” Killian grunted, increasing his pace. “The way you smell when you come all over me, like sweetness and redemption.” Her hand gripped harder at his wrist, but he just moved his hand faster, wishing there was more of him to give her. “The way I make that happen-,”

“Sweet fucking Christ, Killian, I’m gonna come!”

Emma went rigid in his arms, every muscle in her entire body contracting at the same time. Even her lungs stopped working and she couldn’t breathe, Killian’s hand on her stomach over her diaphragm the only thing that was helping her to remember to inhale. He held her tightly, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her, her body fighting the bulge of his muscles as he wrapped her in his arms and let her writhe against his knot. He could feel her muscles, featherlite flutters against the whole length of him, massaging the bulbs of his knot with every spasm in time with her heart beating at one hundred miles an hour in her chest.

The weight in her eyelids lifted, the blurring in her vision clearing and she could suddenly breathe again, the burning sensation in her lungs ceasing. When her hearing returned all she could make out was Killian laughing, his proud sounding chuckle vibrating through both of them as he bundled her up in his arms once more and crushed his lips to the side of her slightly sweaty face. She laughed with him, pure, unadulterated joy rumbling from deep down in her belly that had him wishing she could love him in the same way he now knew he loved her.

Oh fuck.

“Now, it’s perfect,” Killian smirked, tucking them back up in the sheet.

[dune-thedewcollectors]

The Asset codenamed the Waterseller is not a Magnate like Lingar Bewt. But there is more to this city Fremen than meets the eye. "Soo soo sook!" That is the cry of the water venders of the market-place. Havanna, our man in Arrakis, is one such member of a time honoured profession. "Soo soo sook!" The Guild has invested much in this city Fremen. A man with talents like those should be exploited. I have need of this asset's guile and cunning, my own career may profit greatly from it. Some say Havanna has the keys to the city of Arrakeen while others say nothing at the risk of death. Our man is a native of the city and knows little of the ways of his desert cousins, the sietch Fremen. They of the sietch spurn our solari and offers of Guild technology. The city Fremen, however, do not. They make for more than just useful allies in Arrakeen. No one dares interfere with them in the their natural habitat, the urban confines, their sanctuary and home. In the Waterseller we, too, feel we have a significant stakehold in the city. The Asset and his private army of assets provide a personnel of valuable retainers, informers, saboteurs, enforcers, assassins and the support staff that come with such a retinue. Our man, Havanna is not to be underestimated let alone trifled with. Regardless he has served us well and despite the billions invested, the returns have been more than satisfactory. Information brokerage is currently a thriving industry due to his endeavors and success. Spice production and secret stockpiles are a concern for all in the known universe. Obviously more so for my employers. His life is forfeit to all sides, such is the risk of the game we play. Stakes are high. But is Havanna ours to control? "Soo soo sook!" One can never be sure?

Arrakeen was a city under siege from within. Rife in civil strife, borderline anarchy and martial law to boot. The city was a perfect storm of chaos, suitable for those inclined towards espionage and tradecraft. Talents our man Havanna has honed over the last three decades through both covert and overt operations in the field. The Guild funded these, with no expense spared as aforementioned. That is not to say that others had not sponsored these same ventures too, for that is the art of playing both ends and the middle simultaneously . The Waterseller exploits everything and everyone. "Soo soo sook!" The Waterseller is part myth part fable that intelligence services across the universe aspire to, such is his prowess and legend "Soo soo sook!" He once intentionally inflamed racial tensions in alpha sector just to create riots between Giedi Prime and Landsraad youths. This provided the distraction that tied up the garrison units while his city Fremen cohorts emptied the warehouses throughout Arrakeen of the Baron's secret stockpiles of spice. That galled the Baron beyond repair. In response the Harkonnen Public Force sent their best assassin teams after Havanna, one in particular - Bravo squad. Information was conveniently passed on of the Waterseller's whereabouts. The six Bravos disappeared behind the shield wall near the village of Windsack, never to be seen again. The Waterseller never looked back after that. "Soo soo sook!"  

Our man in Arakkis was typical of a water soft Fremen. Pyon (one of the base classes) Fremen were urban dwellers despised and loathed by sietch Fremen. Ultimately, they were shunned by all. Yet the desert Fremen's treatment of the city Fremen over the centuries was appalling at best. Acts of genocide committed were not uncommon. The history of violence between the two was a tale of tragedy and woe that was passed between the generations, each one further victimised and displaced these native people of the cities. Although the non Fremen populations of Arrakeen did not murder the Pyon wholesale, it can not be said that they hated them any less than the desert folk. The engineering class of beta sector comprised mostly of Giedi Prime citizens and the CHOAM/Landsraad residents of alpha and delta constantly harassed the Pyon underclass with racial and bigoted behavior. Havanna, long ago, organized and galvanized the city Fremen. The Waterseller envisioned a city Fremen labour force as something else. Clandestine operatives. "Soo soo Sook." Here was the underclass that proliferated throughout the cities working in menial and domestic tasks, intrinsic in the day to day running of the city. From shadouts to catering to sanitation, there was no corner, nook or cranny that the Asset and his assets did not have eyes and ears on. Indirectly it would seem his power and influence was absolute. Our man had only to click his fingers for his workforce to strike. Arrakeen would cease to function. He had only to clap his hands and riots and crime waves would increase to catastrophic levels. He had only to point his finger at a person, a dossier, a building, a sector and his legion of enforcers, all adept in urban combat and warfare would seek to maim, kill and destroy. The Waterseller knew that people lived and died on his word and together with this ragtag legion of informants and irregulars they would reclaim their world. "Soo soo sook!"

‘Soo soo sook!’ Signified a call to arms or fair warning, even victory. Indeed, the Waterseller was at the height of his powers. He’d fleeced billions of solari over the years from everyone. The Guild mostly, the Emperor almost the same again, even the Baron, supposed Lord and master, felt the pinch, and not excluding Bene Gesserit, CHOAM and Landsraad all of whom also garnered his services. And there he was, in the marketplace, selling his literjons and the wet towels donated by affluent households. No one was the wiser that here was a spymaster general without compare and from the humblest of backgrounds. Still, underestimate our man at your own peril, as many have, even the sietch Fremen. According to reports, on the outskirts of the city, Havanna found himself alone,  momentarily without his security detail when he encountered Mihna youths of the local sietch. Now these Fremen were prospects hoping to initiate into tribal manhood. The worst type to mess with. Young men with something to prove. "Well, water seller, what can we do for you this fine evening?" said the lead Mihna as they formed a triangle around him. The Asset was no warrior but he was no novice either. He primed the bang-flash sheathed on his hip belt throwing it at the feet of the startled trio, a quick roll into their blind spots allowed him to position himself into the correct stance to initiate strikes. One down already, "got him, 'Vanna," snarls the hidden sniper in his earpiece. Our man is on the second, with desert storm speed and from behind, viciously stomped downwards at the back of the Mihna's knee. Snap! The ensuing scream shocked all, and Havanna tossed him unceremoniously towards his stunned and still blinded kin. Havanna wasted no time slipping towards the remaining youth, simultaneously drawing his baradye pistol. But the youth held onto his throat as if trying to plug a collander leaking profusely. Someone had already made quick work of him. "Vanna why do you insist on being the Lone Wolf at the worst times?" sighed Graham, his trusted Lieutenant, relieved that he had returned just in time. Of course, the Waterseller's legend will say how he personally dispatched a dozen Fedaykin that day alone. "Soo soo sook!" 

Our man's reputation came at a price. Such was his success and dominance in the intelligence game it brought ill upon his house and unfortunately his family. Due to a blood feud with one of the deeper desert sietch Fremen his family was kidnapped. No proof of life, their water taken for the tribe. That sietch exists no more. Havanna's stockpile of ordinance was fearsome. A small nuclear device was ignited and the area devastated, never to be entered for another fifty years without the ancient fallout suits. After that day the Asset's life changed. He would never work the field again; he would never take a wife or sire children again and for the rest of his days there remained a price on his head and kill orders from sietch Fremen all across Arrakis. Of course, the incident was covered up. The Baron cared less for thousands of wretched Fremen dead than the loss of face at the Imperial Court. That he could not control the populace and the visible internal turmoil seriously undermined his standing and could have threatened his hold on the spice contract. On the official report an overzealous trooper was turned scapegoat and quickly executed. The atomic explosion put down to an illegal firing of a lasgun on a personal shield and thus a simple Holtzman effect accident. Clearly the Baron needed our man dead too. How the Waterseller survived the onslaught of attempts on his life is a testament to his will and ingenuity. "Soo soo sook!" Havanna withdrew from overground operations and into the waiting protection of his fellow Pyon Fremen whom together became a force to be reckoned with in Arrakeen. The Waterseller could always rely upon their loyalty especially with their hatred for the sietch Fremen, which surpassed even their animosity toward the vile Harkonnen. "Soo soo sook!"  

In the end our man is his own man. And not ours to control. The Asset is still an asset, nonetheless. We have all succumbed to his demands. We tithe heavily and he profits. Havanna ignores the massive Harkonnen Public Force garrisoned at Arrakeen. "' Vanna no show for the dignatories tonight," prides Graham and beams, "the Waterseller has spoken. Soo soo sook!" My service in the Guild as the primary  handler of Havanna codenamed the Waterseller may be held in question? I have long felt the failure of the Asset going rogue. I assert that no intelligence officer could have predicted that outcome, considering the circumstances. That he duped us for so long was unforseen. That he out maneuvered and manipulated the best minds of the known universe the way he did seems an impossibility. How could we have known that when we engaged his services to gather intelligence, he was gathering our own at the same time? That we tithed so wantonly to him showed we had lost control. That we actually funded this superb network of Fremen agents completely proficient in the urban environment beggars belief. Havanna locked us out of our own operations, allowing him to create the tenuous position of him monopolizing all information thus neutralising alternative sources of covert business. He was too well protected, secreted in his city, for any termination orders to be successful. We were disbanded in bandit country. That a Fremen of low status was the architect of our failure in Arrakeen seriously underminined the stability of the tripartite of the Emperor, Landsraad and the spacing Guild. This was a travesty. That the Waterseller and his city Fremen won despite the odds, set our plans back decades, the repercussions, incalculable. "Soo soo sook!"

[kellylouise-blog]

Hello again!

Yes, I know I just posted a blog yesterday and here I am again! *pause for dramatic effect*

Anyway, it’s the end of another year and I wanted to write a separate post as a kind of look back over the past twelve months of my life. Overall, I think 2019 was a pretty good year, all things considered. Of course, it had it’s ups and downs as every year will but I feel like I am currently in the best mental state that I’ve ever been; this is the life I’ve been waiting to live.

Firstly, 2019 marked the end of my college career (sort of, anyway, I’ll explain in a bit). So, I spent the first five months of the year working my butt off to ensure optimal success. And I’m thrilled to announce that I succeeded in doing so! I passed with flying colours and obtained a BSc in Digital Animation Production with First Class Honours! Literally could not have done better. I am someone who always tries to make their work the best it can possibly be and I am very proud to have this behind me. 

They will likely never see this but I have to thank my lecturers in LIT for being so wonderfully supportive throughout the years I spent there. So often before, I had been made to feel inadequate by my teachers and my dreams were often shot down, but for the first time, LIT made me believe that I had as much of a chance as anyone else to succeed. 

I remember feeling so anxious in the run-up to graduation and the doom of “perpetual summer”. But luckily, that never came. I felt so certain that I would be left to struggle for months or years in hopes of finding a job, but the Universe was on my side and I somehow bagged an apprenticeship in the top VFX house of Ireland by August! Furthermore, that apprenticeship was only supposed to be for four months but a couple of weeks into it, they announced that two slots were open for a lengthier apprenticeship as part of a CGI course. Two spots, two weeks in. And I was chosen.

Of course, this meant that my college career wasn’t quite over yet but it also meant a strong start to my professional career. My mentor has embued me with confidence and encouragement and I am so thrilled to be where I am right now.

So while my educational and professional life continues to succeed, my personal life faces its own changes! For years, he had promised that once I graduated, it would happen. He would ask the question that he’d already asked dozens of times before. (But those never counted.) 

I had planned a trip to Disneyworld in Orlando for myself, himself, a friend of mine and my brother. That, in itself, was a venture that I completely meant to write about at the time but I never got around to it! I also still haven’t made the video. Le sigh.

Anyway, the trip was amazing. It was blistering hot yet also torrentially raining all the time but it was all I had hoped for. We managed to see all of the parks, rode so many great rides and saw some crazy shows. My only regret is not having our own transport so we were reliant on a bus schedule that meant missing nighttime shows. But I have hopes that we’ll someday return without that limitation! (I also ended up in the hospital for dehydration but let’s not talk about that. Get a bottle that can keep liquids cold ffs and drink constantly.)

Of course, the trip would not have been complete without Universal Studios. I remember that I had jokingly said before that he’d propose outside of Hogwarts and lol SPOILERS. He says that he made many attempts to find the perfect moment but then storms happened and threw his plans asunder. People laugh when I tell them it wasn’t a surprise, I knew it was coming (he’s terrible at keeping secrets from me, literally told me in his sleepiness), I even took down my hair when I felt the moment coming for the camera, no joke. 

It was the very last day of the trip, and we were just leaving the Wizarding World to begin our journey home. I did, for a moment, start to feel disappointed that it wasn’t going to happen until he coyly asked to take pictures on the Hogwarts bridge with me. I see you. So we made some funny poses and he tried to distract me while he pulled something out of his pocket, and got down on one knee! He told me after that he had a whole speech planned but nerves got the better of him and nothing but the question came out. He was blushing so brightly, I couldn’t handle the cuteness of it all and yes, I said “Of course” to the question he had asked so many times before. It was a wonderful moment and a memory that I shall cherish for the rest of my life.

The wedding will likely be another few years yet because of funds but it makes me so excited for the future.

Oh, and I also finished editing the current draft of my novel and sent it to a few people for beta reading. I’ve gotten some good feedback, plenty of encouragement and praise as well as many suggestions to make it even better. Now to just find the time to work on it on top of everything else going on!

I also lost one of my longest friendships this year but truth be told, it was a long time coming. I wrote (somewhat abstractly) about it before but basically, we had just become two very different people and the relationship wasn’t healthy for me anymore. It was a tough decision and still feels a bit upsetting sometimes but it was ultimately the correct decision for me to move forward.

2019, you’ve been a journey. 

Happy New Year.

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello snapeslittleblackbuttons and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many of our members will be familiar with your body of work, including works Watch over me and Once, Now and Forevermore.

Okay, let’s jump right in.

What's the story behind your pen name?

It’s actually a subtle tribute to a scene in one of the first fanfics I ever read. It was an SSHG one-shot, and there was a scene in which Sev muses aloud whether his wife is more taken with him, or his buttons. I thought it was adorable.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

That’s hard to say. I probably see more qualities of myself in Hermione than any other character.

Do you have a favourite genre to read?  

I enjoy fantasy most, but sci-fi and historical fiction tie for a close second place. When an author can seamlessly incorporate a bit of fantasy into history--like Diana Gabaldon does in her Outlander series--that’s the best of everything.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

A Tale of Two Cities by Dickens is my favourite classic by far. I also love The Mists of Avalon by Bradley.

At what age did you start writing?

I started writing when I was an adult. My senior year English class pretty much ruined my desire to focus on writing as a craft. Now that I’ve found my Muse again, I guard my personal voice as an artist fiercely.   

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I adore Sev as a character--his strengths and his flaws--the whole lovely, complex mess that is Severus Snape. My heart just broke for him--life had been so unfair, right from the start. I wanted to give him a glimpse of happiness, just a taste, you know? It was probably more to make me, as a reader, feel better than anything else! So, I wrote a parallel story called What Dumbledore Knew, which focused on his relationship with Lily during the First Wizarding War and tied my story into the canon events of DH, making it so that it could have actually occurred.   

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

The most interesting themes for me to explore (both as a reader and writer) are abandonment and fate. You Know Where to Find Me is about abandonment, and Unanswered Prayer touches on both abandonment and fate. Of course, Once, Now, and Forevermore and To Dwell on Dreams focus on fate.    

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

None, actually! HP is all I’ve ever read or written. I’d bet I’d love Star Wars / Reylo fanfic, but I’d be afraid to start down that road with all the commitments I have right now.

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be?

Well, I think I would have let Severus live so he could realize the fruits of redemption. It’s awfully clean and convenient when he dies; you don’t have to fit him into the wizarding world any longer, and you don’t have to deal with how you’ve treated him. And he doesn’t have to live with what he’s done. I think all of that merits exploration.

Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

My favourite? I have a few. Severus is Draco’s godfather, wizards sign betrothal contacts, and Blaise is a bit of a Casanova.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?

I prefer quiet, but I can write when things are extremely chaotic and loud, too. I can write at a library or a rave. It’s hardest for me to write when sound is somewhere in the middle, for example, when I can hear a single conversation or just a TV.   

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Second Life by Lariope, The Secrets We Keep by IShouldBe (which was, incidentally, the very first fanfic I ever read); Turn by Saras_Girl, and Advanced Contemporary Potion Making by Lariope. All of them can be found on archiveofourown.org.

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I’m a plotter, but I’m willing to listen to the Muse if she suggests diverting from plan.

What is your writing genre of choice?

Fantasy, certainly. I write historical fiction as well, but I find that I get ensnared in making sure the all details are perfect--like moon’s phase on September 6, 1978, or the average temperature in Sudan in late July, or whatever. Writing historical fiction takes me FOR. EV. ER.

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

That’s one of the hardest questions I’m asked--it’s like asking which of your children you like the best. I have favourite scenes from every single one of my plot-bunny-turned-story babies, but overall I would have to say my favourites are Fur and Sin and Child of the Moon.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

Generally, they unfolded as I had planned, but the Muse provided some details along the way that I hadn’t thought of until I was actually writing the scene.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

I don’t have any personal ties to themes in those particular stories, I’m just happy with how they came out.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

Certainly, the works of Saras_girl, Aurette, Loten, Lariope, and IShouldBe have influenced me.

All of those authors have inspired me to challenge myself as a writer. After reading Turn by Saras_girl, I challenged myself to write a story in present tense (Fur and Sin). Others have inspired me to try humour (The Shape of You) and first person POV (Child of the Moon).  

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

My immediate family knows, and just two of my RL friends. I have a fabulous support group on FB who first knew me as only snapeslittleblackbuttons, and now I am honoured to call friends as well.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Well, that notion was true for me when I first started my writing journey. As I mentioned, I wrote my first story (What Dumbledore Knew) to develop Severus’s motivations more fully. I wrote that story for me.

While Dumbledore Knew was supposed to be for me alone, I eventually wound up sharing it on ff.net (because why not?), and a very kind soul messaged me and asked to if she could be my beta for future stories. She showed me things I was doing well and coached me on things that I wasn’t. She was the perfect mix of encouragement and correction, and I’m thankful for her to this day.  

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

It’s incredibly important. I can tell you that each and every review or comment I receive reinforces the desire for me to return to my craft, to produce more, to hone more. I am very grateful for my readers.

Right now, the only ways I engage with them are through FB or archiveofourown.org.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Typing is different than writing. Don’t confuse the two. And yes, you can actually be writing--crafting a scene in your mind, for example--without touching your keyboard.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

I read, and try not to stress about it. Sometimes, I’ll reread a favourite ff, or even my own, until someone’s words inspire me again.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Absolutely. Themes in You Know Where to Find Me, and a scene in Nightfall (the conversation on the garden bench) come directly from my personal experience.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I’m working on a novel-length original fiction right now. It’s an expansion/adaptation of one of my ff stories, but I’m not ready to share a teaser yet. Stay tuned.

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Keep going, you’re doing great. Really, truly, you are.

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

Thank you, Relish Redshoes, for giving me the chance to talk about my work.

[hurl-a-can]

10, 20, 30, 40 and D, F, G about Lennan Tabris?

Sorry it took so long!

Lenn it is.

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Answered here.

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

“Romantic love, even when it’s not sexual, brings this...sense of--completing--one another, of intimacy - that other kinds of love do not. Two hearts, one soul. I’m not saying there is a clear line between romance and friendship, though. It’s not like relationships can’t have elements of both. Some of the best relationships do.”

30.  Who do they most regret meeting? 

During the first months of the Blight, he’d probably say Vaughn.But as the Blight progresses and he finds himself trapped in a leader’s position he never wanted, as it dawns on him what being a Warden really is about - and as his depression gets worse - he probably feels like that particular honour should go to Duncan.First, Duncan’s somewhat ruthless streak wasn’t lost on him, so he remembers the man with somewhat mixed feelings. Second, had Duncan not popped up, he would be dead now and wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit.

40. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

He’s quite aware of most of them. He has a pretty good grasp of the fact that indecisiveness, second-guessing and lack of confidence in his own decisions are a major issue for him - but he doesn’t really know how to deal with it. He can fake confidence very well when necessary (he IS a good liar), but his doubts never really go away. He’s also aware he’s got some serious problems with processing and expressing feelings - but again...he doesn’t really know HOW to snap out of it. And I guess he’s actually too afraid to try.He is overly sensitive to some of his flaws (he may be perpetually anxious, conflict-averse and occasionally deceitful - but he often views himself as completely spineless, which he absolutely isn’t), while he’s nowhere near sensitive enough to a few others (he doesn’t even always realize when he is being manipulative and he’s not always honest with himself or those he loves).

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

He’s evolved a lot. I’m gonna leave out the very first playthrough since that wasn’t even a proper beta version.But he went from this...

..to this...

...and eventually to this...

(That DAI makeover is closest to how I imagine him - so that’s his official face now; he doesn’t have a faceclaim...not yet, anyway.)

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Guilt (because I made him suffer a lot), affection (I love the bugger)...and dare I say pride? (I think he’s pretty cool. I also think he’s visually interesting. :-))

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

It’s gotta be the secretiveness and manipulativeness.There was a potential for some real nastiness there - but his anxiety and his lack of confidence held him back. (He was also a kind, well-intentioned bloke, sure - but good intentions can pave roads to hell and if he hadn’t been such a terrible overthinker and if he hadn’t tripped over himself so much, he could have turned quite Machiavellian.)

[witch-of-letters]

WITIWNU - Part 3/?

Chapter Word Count: 3161

A/N #1: Once again a HUGE ‘Thank you’ to my wonderful Beta (who so generously offered to help me with this) - @team-free-will-you-idjits-67  ! I’m forever grateful for your help.

Chapter Links:  (Prologue)  Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Stonehenge, England, 1999  

If an artist or a philosopher were to be asked whether or not the meadow was beautiful, the answer would be ‘Yes, it is.’ Being away from your home was something that occurred quite often. Satisfying your wild spirit and yearning to be free from everything. If it were up for your mother, she would most definitely leave you all locked up inside your bedroom. She never liked you running about in the open.

Alec, on the other hand, was more willing to see you enjoy nature and sunlight, sprinting here and there with glee like you would usually see when kids are being given presents at Christmas. He was calm and cautious by nature, never doing anything reckless unless the situation demanded it. While he was happy to be there for you, loving you like he had never loved anyone before, even your mother, he was sure as hell worried about what the future had in store for you.

The deal your mother had made did a huge blow to your family, the Ryders. It should never have happened and yet, she still did it for reasons unknown. That was one thing Alec would never forgive her for. Still, he could never have been more than happy to see you here being the only ray of sunshine in his dark life. He was tired. Tired of being hunted by people he had once called ‘friends’. Tired of being an attack dog, held back by the British Men of Letters’ tight leash. And he was sure as hell tired of being a good-for-nothing of a father to you, his only daughter. This life, a lifetime hunting of monsters, was not something he wanted to give you, but he had nothing. His custom-made M1911, his code of honour, and his undying love for you were all he had.

And that love? It was love that would eventually get him killed.

*****

You were out of breath when you reached your father. He gave one of the warmest smiles you had ever seen him give, opening up his arms for a hug. Alec felt as though a cannonball had crushed into his chest.

��Woah there, little one! Don’t break your pops’ ribs!” Your smile was one of mischief.

“As if I would be capable of actually doing that!.”

“Oh, one day you will be. Just you wait!” This was enough to send you into a fit of giggles, which may or may not have dragged him into a fit of his own. Such moments of happiness were rare for you. The main ‘issue’ being your mother, who didn’t seem to allow you being happy at all, wanting to keep you inside your mansion and train you in the ways of witchcraft. Her tyranny caused you to refuse to speak to her, undoubtedly giving her another headache with your antics. This didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy learning about magic with her though.

Your father poked at your side, pulling you from you back to reality.  

“You still there, Y/N/N?”

“Huh, what?”

“Your eyes got all misty all of a sudden. Thought you got lost in thought or something,” he spoke quietly, like a thief trying to share a secret.

“I was just thinking about us,” you answered with a shrug.

“Us?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you closer to him, your head resting under his chin, “What exactly, little one?”

“The way we are never really happy, papa. We move around a lot, some people always come knocking on our door and asking about whether or not you have finished your ‘job’, and mother still behaves like a cold-hearted bitch towards me-”

“Where did you learn these words?!” Alec was immediately alert, thinking about what could have happened between you and your mother this time. He just couldn’t bear hearing about another one of your spats, that usually force him to become the ‘ultimate peacemaker’ between you.

“It’s what she does, papa. What she  always does...” Alec contemplated telling you a comforting lie, but he knew that you would recognize it as one the moment he uttered it.

“I can’t believe her!” he whisper-yelled, “Why can’t she accept you?!”

“I don’t know.”

“It is not like her to be so cold-hearted,” he murmured to himself.

“When was she ever happy? Oh, let me guess, before I was born. Right?”

He didn’t know how to answer your question, instead just letting it hang open in the air. Indeed, when was the last time he had seen his love happy? She’d lost that spark since they had to go on the run from the Men of Letters back in the US. He had no idea how to reignite it. She had closed herself off to both himself and you entirely. While, sure, it didn’t do you any good in any parenting terms, at least she was still alive, or so Alec liked to think.

As the sun continued to beam down on you both, you fell into a semi-comfortable silence, each in your own thoughts. Life -  your life - wasn’t easy. For hunters and witches like you it never was, and yet you had to carry on, for the sake of other people who didn’t believe in supernatural. But the blood on Alec’s hands did not make it easy - for  him.

He despised killing people. Sounds simple, right? But it’s not.

Not only did his hands shake when he pointed his gun at people, he also couldn’t look in the eyes of his ‘victims’. Killing was messy. Killing was heartless. Killing was inhumane. But those were not the words of his new ‘comrades’ because their preferred term was: ‘It isn’t killing when it comes to monsters - whether human or not.

He didn’t want such life for you, but he knew that you would get thrown into it anyway, even if he were kicking and screaming like a madman.

Present, 2015

Darkness. It was all you could ‘see’ in front of you. The moment the cloud’s dark tendrils engulfed you, you could only feel its coldness and stare at vast nothingness. While normally you weren’t afraid of the dark, hunting having made it impossible to feel that way, it still felt unnerving to you. Nothing  about this was normal.

Trying to remain calm, you wailed your arms around, hoping to touch something -  anything that might calm your nerves. You needed to be grounded, no matter if what you touched would turn out to be a tree or a rock. You knew you were at least standing on solid ground.

But then you remembered those strange few words that echoed inside your head just before you lost consciousness. The voice belonged to a woman. It was both calm and soothing, like a fluffy blanket that you wrap around yourself when it gets cold. And yet, when you try to squint your eyes in the thick dark smoke, you see her standing there - tall, shoulders relaxed, and her own gaze fixed on someone beside her, who was looking around rather wildly.  ‘Dean! ’ your mind whispered, trying to see what was happening. When you looked at him more closely, you saw him staring at the woman in confusion, not knowing who she was or what she was doing.

“Hey! The hell's going on?!” he shouted at her, already feeling for his gun that wasn’t there. She said nothing, only looking into his eyes, with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Suddenly, her head snapped towards you, cautiously approaching them like a hunter would approach its prey. Dean’s face lit up in surprise, happy to see you there but confused at your presence at the same time. You kept your eyes on her, observing and calculating your next move. Something in the back of your mind told you that doing anything rash would only anger the stranger in front of you. Without a word, she turned around and walked back into the darkness. Before either you or Dean could utter a word, you blacked out.

*****

Sam woke up with one hell of a headache. The only thing he saw before something knocked him out was an enormous dark cloud, heading towards the Impala at a great speed, engulfing everything in its way. All three of you tried to get away, but the car had hit a damn pothole. He groaned when he touched his face, feeling a cut that wasn’t there before. Maybe he hit his face against the car door, he thought as he slowly looked around, not spotting neither you nor Dean. The only thing left to do was to get out of there.

Everything seemed normal. A slight breeze was blowing, both the car and the bar were still there, and not a soul around, except for him. Figuring that it was useless to drive around in search for both you and his brother, he went south towards the rolling hills. He prayed that he would find you there.

The next thing he saw, when he finally came up the hill, were your bodies, lying on the ground unconscious. He ran as fast as he could.

“Hey! Hey! You two okay?“ he asked as knelt down to touch your shoulders, shaking them a little.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling relief when you recognized Sam’s baritone voice.

“Yeah...we’re okay, or as okay as we can be, I suppose,” you whispered because your throat felt like you’d just swallowed sandpaper.

“Where's the car?” Dean spoke from beside you, already on his feet. He put out a hand to help you up, which you gratefully took. He gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“I-i-it's . . . About a mile that way.”

“What?”

Sam stared at him indignantly, “Seriously? The -- the darkness hit. You disappeared. You remember none of this?”

You gave him a look, “Of course we remember, Sam. We’ve just been there!”

“She saved us.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look confused.

“What? Who?”

You and Dean looked at each other, “The Darkness.”

*****

“Hold on, so what happened back there, exactly?” inquired Sam as you all hit the road again.

You looked in the rearview mirror at Dean, silently asking for help. You wanted to tell him yourself, but your throat still felt too constricted to speak.

“She saved us, I told you that already.”

“Wait a second. What do you mean, she saved you?”

“You were there. When the storm hit, everything went dark.”

Sam waved his arms around, as if emphasizing how incredulous that situation was, “Yeah, but you just disappeared from the car.”

Dean glanced at him, shaking his head in denial, “I don't even remember that.”

Then Sam looked at you but you shook your head as well. You were too out of consciousness to remember any of it, but if you were to take a guess, and you were sure that you’d be right, you’d say that she had just teleported you out of the Impala.

“Well, I don't remember some woman pulling you out.”

“Well, what do you want me to say, okay? Y/N and I were in the car, and then we weren't in the car. We were in the field, and she was there. Just standing.”

“She was observing us,” you croaked, sitting up in the backseat. You cleared your throat before continuing, “or maybe assessing us even. From what I could gather, she was looking at us with both familiarity and curiosity, as though she knew who we were.”

“And she told you she was the darkness.”

Dean was quick to deny such a claim, “No. She was wearing a nametag. What do you think? She thanked us.” Now that was something you didn’t quite hear her saying. Her? Being grateful to you? Perhaps there was something in it because Death had explained to you how the Mark was tied to her and vice versa, and after removing it, she was released from her confines, undoubtedly ready to rain destruction upon the world.

Sam brought you out of your reverie, “For what?”

“Setting her free.”

“You didn't set her free.  I  set her free.” You frowned at Sam’s response. Indeed, it was his idea to use the Book of The Damned, but there simply was no other choice. For a witch of your calibre, you were sure as hell frustrated when you couldn’t find a solution to that problem. But, what’s done is done, and you have to continue playing with the cards given, even if they’re stacked against you.

“Does it matter? I mean, yeah, you said the spell, but Y/N had the Mark, so lock and key.”

“But then there’s the question as to how both you disappeared. The Mark was on Y/N’s arm.”

You answered him before Dean could, “Dean was the bearer of it before I was, Sam, so my guess is that both of us were simply connected to it, and subsequently her. What that means for us exactly, however, I don’t know.”

“So, what, now she feels indebted to you or something?”

“I don't know. She's a Darkness. Does she feel anything?” mumbled Dean.

”And that's all she said? Thanks?”

”Yeah. She was weird. But she had this energy about her, this -- this focus. But, yeah, not a talker.”

“So, we know Jack.” For some reason, you found Sam’s response funny, smirking in the backseat. Boy, were you glad that they didn’t notice it.

“Well, we know what she looks like, and we know that she's evil. The question is, what does she know? I mean, she's been locked away since the beginning of time. Does she even know what a cheeseburger is? All I know is that we set her free, and we're gonna put her back in, no matter what it takes,” said Dean, just as Baby hit another pothole, “What the . . . ,” he got out to take a look at the car. “Well, that’s just awesome !”

You couldn’t help but let out a snorting laugh.

After Dean’s statement, it got quiet in the car, with you occasionally asking them where you three were, seeing as you were laying on your back in the backseat. During your ride, Dean checked upon you several times, even with Sam offering to drive Baby to let him turn around without putting them all in danger. Of course, the only response he got was a grumpy ‘I got it.’

Soon though, the car stopped.

“What, is there a roadblock or something?” you inquired while slowly sitting upright. Sam glanced back at you.

“Yeah, actually.”

All of you got immediately out of the car. The road seemed eerily quiet with no sound reaching your ears. When you got a little bit closer, you saw dead bodies strewn all over the road. It wasn’t a particularly gruesome sight as you didn’t see any blood around them. Instead, you noticed thick black veins on their arms and necks, that for some reason, reminded you of the late Croatoan virus.

“You all seeing what I’m seeing?” you turned around to look at the brothers. Both of them had their guns out, in case of danger. You weren’t  so sure that the bullets would stop the infected though, as the ‘infection’ itself was obviously unnatural.

“What the hell happened here?”

There was an unmistakable sound of footsteps ahead of you. It didn’t quite help that the cars obstructed your vision and made it harder to see the person approaching. As they got closer, it turned out that it was a construction worker. ‘ At least it is not a cliche teenager or something…,’  your mind supplied.

Dean cocked his gun at him, “Oh, that's not a happy sight. Hey, easy, buddy. Just stay cool till we figure out what's going here, okay?” The creepy guy continued to approach you, “Kind of narrowing my options here.”

“We don’t even know what he is.”

“You don’t say, Sam!” you retorted. You knew how he was holding himself back from giving you his ‘bitch face’. Y/N 1, Sam 0.

Suddenly, a shot rang out from behind of the cars, making you focus your attention again. Slowly, a woman walked forward towards you, shotgun raised.

“Weapons on the ground. Slow.”

Dean tried to diffuse the situation, not wanting to accidentally get you, him, or Sam shot, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, officer. We're FBI, okay? We got badges.”  That made you give him an incredulous look. He didn’t notice it, the bastard…

The deputy only pumped her shotgun, “Don't. Show me some skin.” She was only met with the brothers’ confused ‘Huh?’ and ‘What?’. You, however, didn’t hesitate to pull down your collar, exposing your neck.

“Is this, like, a "Magic Mike" moment?” asked Dean enthusiastically.

“Your throats!”

“Oh, you think we're -- we're . . . Look, we don't even know what these are.”

“I need to know you're not one of 'em.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, “One of what?”

Before she could answer, you heard moans from all around you, indicating that the infected were still very much around. She pointed her shotgun down a little.

“Let’s go!”

“Okay, all right, look. Huh? See?” Dean pulled down his own collar, with Sam following his action. Once they did so, the deputy gave a satisfied nod.

“Good. Let's see those IDs.”

“Yeah, whoa. All right, take -- take it easy, okay?” he pointed at her own wound, still bleeding profusely. “Bad guys?”

“Rebar. I sought cover. I fell,” she explained rather offhandedly. Another person not caring about their own injury. Just what you needed to see that day.

“Okay. Why don't you tell us what happened here?”

“911 reported a family in distress. I arrived to find several hostiles attacking said family. Oh, God, it was horrible.” The Winchesters put their guns away, and Jenna, as she gave you her name, put away her own shotgun.

“How long you been on the job, deputy?”

“Uh . . . Okay, three weeks.”

“Well, that’s not long,” you quietly remarked.

“Yeah…”

Dean was quick to take over again, “Okay, ah. I'm Dean. This is Sam and Y/N. Just breathe. Okay? Speak plain. What happened?”

Jenna took a deep breath, “They killed them all.”

“Who?” questioned Sam.

“Roadcrew. It was -- they were like rabid dogs. I fired off a warning, but they didn't stop. They…”

“You killed all these?” Dean pointed at the bodies. Jenna nodded.

“I knew some of the boys, but they didn't look -- something was wrong. They were...“

“They're not human.”

Jenna looked on the verge of collapse, and Dean stepped forward, in case she fainted, “Hey, look, Y/N can stitch that up, but, uh, it's gonna be ugly, seeing as we have lost our own first aid kit. You got a hospital around here?“

“Up the road.“

“All right. Here we go.“

You gave one last look at the bodies before all four of you piled back into Baby. You knew that it was only a beginning of the Darkness’ trail of destruction.

 Tagging: @waywardrose13 // @waywardnerd67 // @assassins-and-hidden-blades // @angelkurenai // @undertastic-dork // @unreadpoppy // @snffbeebee // @coffee-obsessed-writer // @spnhollis // @storminwomanform // @queen-of-deans-booty // @impala-dreamer

[pamphletstoinspire]

THE BOOK OF TOBIAS Or Tobit* - From The Douay-Rheims Bible - Latin Vulgate

Chapter 12

INTRODUCTION.

This Book takes its name from the holy man Tobias, whose wonderful virtues are herein recorded. It contains most excellent documents of great piety, extraordinary patience, and of perfect resignation to the will of God. His humble prayer was heard, and the angel Raphael was sent to relieve him: he is thankful, and praises the Lord, calling on the children of Israel to do the same. Having lived to the age of one hundred and two years, he exhorts his son and grandsons to piety, foretells the destruction of Ninive, and the rebuilding of Jerusalem: he dies happily. Ch. --- The Jews themselves have a great regard for the book of Tobias; (Grot. Sixtus Senens. viii.) which Origen (ad Afric.) says they "read in Hebrew," meaning probably the Chaldee, (C.) out of which language S. Jerom translated it, preferring to displease the Pharisaical Jews, rather than not to satisfy the desires of the holy bishops Chromatius and Heliodorus. Ep. t. iii. W. --- The Greek version seems to have been taken from another copy, or it has been executed with greater liberty by the Hellenist Jews, between the times of the Sept. and of Theodotion. C. --- Huet and Prideaux esteem it more original; and Houbigant has translated it in his Bible, as the Council of Trent only spoke of the Latin editions then extant; and S. Jerom followed in his version the Hebrew one of a Jew, as he did not understand the Chaldee. H. --- The Syriac and the modern Hebrew edition of Fagius, agree mostly with the Greek, as that of Munster and another Heb. copy of Huet, and the Arabic version, both unpublished, are more conformable to the Vulgate. The most ancient Latin version used before S. Jerom, was taken from the Greek; and the Fathers who lived in those ages, speak of it when they call the book of Tobias canonical. S. Aug. leaves it, however, to adopt S. Jerom's version, in his Mirrour. The copies of all these versions vary greatly, (C.) though the substance of the history is still the same; and in all we discover the virtues of a good parent, of a dutiful son, and virtuous husband, beautifully described. H. --- "The servant of God, holy Tobias, is given to us after the law for an example, that we might know how to practise what we read; and that if temptations assail us, we may not depart from the fear of God, nor expect help from any other." S. Aug. q. 119. ex utroque Test. --- The four first chapters exhibit the holy life of old Tobias, and the eight following, the journey and affairs of his son, directed by Raphael. In the two last chapters they praise God, and the elder Tobias foretells the better state of the commonwealth. W. --- It is probable that both left records, from which this work has been compiled, with a few additional observations. It was written during (C.) or after the captivity of Babylon. E. --- The Jews had then little communication with each other, in different kingdoms. Tobias was not allowed to go into Media, under Sennacherib; and it is probable that the captives at Babylon would be under similar restrictions; so that we do not need to wonder that they were unacquainted with this history of a private family, the records of which seem to have been kept at Ecbatana. The original Chaldee is entirely lost, so that it is impossible to ascertain whether the Greek or the Vulg. be more conformable to it. The chronology of the latter seems however more accurate, as the elder Tobias foretold the destruction of Ninive, twenty-three years before the event, which his son just beheld verified, dying in the 18th year of king Josias. The accounts which appear to sectaries to be fabulous, may easily be explained. Houbigant. --- Josephus and Philo omit this history. C.

* One of the seven Deutero-Canonical books, missing from most non-Catholic Bibles.

The additional Notes in this Edition of the New Testament will be marked with the letter A. Such as are taken from various Interpreters and Commentators, will be marked as in the Old Testament. B. Bristow, C. Calmet, Ch. Challoner, D. Du Hamel, E. Estius, J. Jansenius, M. Menochius, Po. Polus, P. Pastorini, T. Tirinus, V. Bible de Vence, W. Worthington, Wi. Witham. — The names of other authors, who may be occasionally consulted, will be given at full length.

Verses are in English and Latin. HAYDOCK CATHOLIC BIBLE COMMENTARY

This Catholic commentary on the Old Testament, following the Douay-Rheims Bible text, was originally compiled by Catholic priest and biblical scholar Rev. George Leo Haydock (1774-1849). This transcription is based on Haydock's notes as they appear in the 1859 edition of Haydock's Catholic Family Bible and Commentary printed by Edward Dunigan and Brother, New York, New York.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

Changes made to the original text for this transcription include the following:

Greek letters. The original text sometimes includes Greek expressions spelled out in Greek letters. In this transcription, those expressions have been transliterated from Greek letters to English letters, put in italics, and underlined. The following substitution scheme has been used: A for Alpha; B for Beta; G for Gamma; D for Delta; E for Epsilon; Z for Zeta; E for Eta; Th for Theta; I for Iota; K for Kappa; L for Lamda; M for Mu; N for Nu; X for Xi; O for Omicron; P for Pi; R for Rho; S for Sigma; T for Tau; U for Upsilon; Ph for Phi; Ch for Chi; Ps for Psi; O for Omega. For example, where the name, Jesus, is spelled out in the original text in Greek letters, Iota-eta-sigma-omicron-upsilon-sigma, it is transliterated in this transcription as, Iesous. Greek diacritical marks have not been represented in this transcription.

Footnotes. The original text indicates footnotes with special characters, including the astrisk (*) and printers' marks, such as the dagger mark, the double dagger mark, the section mark, the parallels mark, and the paragraph mark. In this transcription all these special characters have been replaced by numbers in square brackets, such as [1], [2], [3], etc.

Accent marks. The original text contains some English letters represented with accent marks. In this transcription, those letters have been rendered in this transcription without their accent marks.

Other special characters.

Solid horizontal lines of various lengths that appear in the original text have been represented as a series of consecutive hyphens of approximately the same length, such as ---.

Ligatures, single characters containing two letters united, in the original text in some Latin expressions have been represented in this transcription as separate letters. The ligature formed by uniting A and E is represented as Ae, that of a and e as ae, that of O and E as Oe, and that of o and e as oe.

Monetary sums in the original text represented with a preceding British pound sterling symbol (a stylized L, transected by a short horizontal line) are represented in this transcription with a following pound symbol, l.

The half symbol (1/2) and three-quarters symbol (3/4) in the original text have been represented in this transcription with their decimal equivalent, (.5) and (.75) respectively.

Unreadable text. Places where the transcriber's copy of the original text is unreadable have been indicated in this transcription by an empty set of square brackets, [].

Chapter 12

Raphael maketh himself known.

[1] Then Tobias called to him his son, and said to him: What can we give to this holy man, that is come with thee?

Tunc vocavit ad se Tobias filium suum, dixitque ei : Quid possumus dare viro isti sancto, qui venit tecum?

[2] Tobias answering, said to his father: Father, what wages shall we give him? or what can be worthy of his benefits?

Respondens Tobias, dixit patri suo : Pater, quam mercedem dabimus ei? aut quid dignum poterit esse beneficiis ejus?

[3] He conducted me and brought me safe again, he received the money of Gabelus, he caused me to have my wife, and he chased from her the evil spirit, he gave joy to her parents, myself he delivered from being devoured by the fish, thee also he hath made to see the light of heaven, and we are filled with all good things through him. What can we give him sufficient for these things?

Me duxit et reduxit sanum, pecuniam a Gabelo ipse recepit, uxorem ipse me habere fecit, et daemonium ab ea ipse compescuit : gaudium parentibus ejus fecit, meipsum a devoratione piscis eripuit, te quoque videre fecit lumen caeli, et bonis omnibus per eum repleti sumus. Quid illi ad haec poterimus dignum dare?

[4] But I beseech thee, my father, to desire him, that he would vouchsafe to accept one half of all things that have been brought.

Sed peto te, pater mi, ut roges eum, si forte dignabitur medietatem de omnibus, quae allata sunt, sibi assumere.

[5] So the father and the son, calling him, took him aside: and began to desire him that he would vouchsafe to accept of half of all things that they had brought.

Et vocantes eum, pater scilicet et filius, tulerunt eum in partem : et rogare coeperunt ut dignaretur dimidiam partem omnium, quae attulerant, acceptam habere.

[6] Then he said to them secretly: Bless ye the God of heaven, give glory to him in the sight of all that live, because he hath shewn his mercy to you.

Tunc dixit eis occulte : Benedicite Deum caeli, et coram omnibus viventibus confitemini ei, quia fecit vobiscum misericordiam suam.

[7] For it is good to hide the secret of a king: but honourable to reveal and confess the works of God.

Etenim sacramentum regis abscondere bonum est : opera autem Dei revelare et confiteri honorificum est.

[8] Prayer is good with fasting and alms more than to lay up treasures of gold:

Bona est oratio cum jejunio, et eleemosyna magis quam thesauros auri recondere :

[9] For alms delivereth from death, and the same is that which purgeth away sins, and maketh to find mercy and life everlasting.

quoniam eleemosyna a morte liberat, et ipsa est, quae purgat peccata, et facit invenire misericordiam et viam aeternam.

[10] But they that commit sin and iniquity, are enemies to their own soul.

Qui autem faciunt peccatum, et iniquitatem, hostes sunt animae suae.

[11] I discover then the truth unto you, and I will not hide the secret from you.

Manifesto ergo vobis veritatem, et non abscondam a vobis occultum sermonem.

[12] When thou didst pray with tears, and didst bury the dead, and didst leave thy dinner, and hide the dead by day in thy house, and bury them by night, I offered thy prayer to the Lord.

Quando orabas cum lacrimis, et sepeliebas mortuos, et derelinquebas prandium tuum, et mortuos abscondebas per diem in domo tua, et nocte sepeliebas eos, ego obtuli orationem tuam Domino.

[13] And because thou wast acceptable to God, it was necessary that temptation should prove thee.

Et quia acceptus eras Deo, necesse fuit ut tentatio probaret te.

[14] And now the Lord hath sent me to heal thee, and to deliver Sara thy son's wife from the devil.

Et nunc misit me Dominus ut curarem te, et Saram uxorem filii tui a daemonio liberarem.

[15] For I am the angel Raphael, one of the seven, who stand before the Lord.

Ego enim sum Raphael angelus, unus ex septem, qui adstamus ante Dominum.

[16] And when they had heard these things, they were troubled, and being seized with fear they fell upon the ground on their face.

Cumque haec audissent, turbati sunt, et trementes ceciderunt super terram in faciem suam.

[17] And the angel said to them: Peace be to you, fear not.

Dixitque eis angelus : Pax vobis : nolite timere.

[18] For when I was with you, I was there by the will of God: bless ye him, and sing praises to him.

Etenim cum essem vobiscum, per voluntatem Dei eram : ipsum benedicite, et cantate illi.

[19] I seemed indeed to eat and to drink with you: but I use an invisible meat and drink, which cannot be seen by men.

Videbar quidem vobiscum manducare et bibere : sed ego cibo invisibili, et potu qui ab hominibus videri non potest, utor.

[20] It is time therefore that I return to him that sent me: but bless ye God, and publish all his wonderful works.

Tempus est ergo ut revertar ad eum, qui me misit : vos autem benedicite Deum, et narrate omnia mirabilia ejus.

[21] And when he had said these things, he was taken from their sight, and they could see him no more.

Et cum haec dixisset, ab aspectu eorum ablatus est, et ultra eum videre non potuerunt.

[22] Then they lying prostrate for three hours upon their face, blessed God: and rising up, they told all his wonderful works.

Tunc prostrati per horas tres in faciem, benedixerunt Deum : et exsurgentes narraverunt omnia mirabilia ejus.

Commentary:

Ver. 1. What. Gr. Heb. and Syr. C. "See thou give the man who has come with thee his hire, and something must be added to it;" (H.) as he had promised (C. vii. 19.) a drachm a day, (C.) and more if they returned safe. H.

Ver. 2. Said. Gr. "Father, I shall not be hurt if I give him half of what I have brought, since he has conducted me safe back to thee, and has healed my wife, and brought my money, and likewise has cured thee. And the old man said, he justly deserves it. And he called the angel, and said to him, Take half of what you have brought, and depart in health. Then," v. 6.

Ver. 6. Said. Gr. "Calling the two, in private, he said to them."

Ver. 7. Hide. Gr. "To bless God, and to extol his name, exposing with honour the words of God, and delay not to confess unto him. For," &c. H. --- The Old Vulg. greatly abridges the remainder of this book, having only, "Then Raphael having called the two Tobies, said to them, Since thou hast not delayed to arise, and to leave thy meals to bury the dead, I have been sent to try thee to heal thee, and to deliver thy daughter-in-law. I am Raphael, one of the angels who assist and appear before the brightness of God. Hereupon the two Tobies were startled, and fell prostrate on the ground, and were seized with fear. And Raphael said, Fear not, Peace be with you. Bless the Lord all the days of your life, and sing his praises. You thought that I eat when I was at table with you. But you saw with your eyes; (H. only a vision. C.) wherefore bless the Lord upon the earth, and praise his goodness. As for me, I return to him who sent me. Write down all that has happened. The angel having spoken thus to Tobias, the latter wrote this prayer as a monument of his joy, and said, Blessed be the Lord, who is great in eternity, because his reign endures for ever. It is He who strikes, and who shews I mercy, who conducts to the grave, and who, by his majesty, rescues from the greatest miseries; and no one can withdraw himself from his hands. End of Tobias the just." H. --- King. Secrecy is the soul of human councils, to prevent an enemy from thwarting our designs: but nothing can withstand the divine power. It is therefore proper to testify our gratitude for favours received, as the ancient saints have done by their canticles. C.

Ver. 8. Alms. Gr. adds, "and justice. Better is a little with justice, than much with iniquity." H. --- Fasting and alms are like the wings of prayer. W. See C. iv. 11.

Ver. 9. Everlasting. This word is not found in Greek, though sufficiently implied; as liberality does not always secure a person's life, or temporal happiness. C. --- Gr. "Those who perform alms-deeds and justice, shall be filled with life. But sinners are enemies," &c.

Ver. 10. Soul. If this were understood of the present life, nothing could be less accurate, as the wicked often prosper. See Ps. x. 6. Jo. xii. 25. C.

Ver. 11. I. Gr. "I will not hide from you any word or thing. I said then, It is good to conceal the mystery of the king, but glorious to manifest the works of God. And now, when thou and thy daughter-in-law, Sarra, did pray, I brought forward the memorial of your prayer before the holy one." H. --- The angels are represented as God's ministers, offering our prayers to him. Apoc. viii. 3. C. S. Aug. W. --- Philo styles them ambassadors. Socrates says, "every demon (or good spirit) is between God and mortals." Plutarch. --- Inter homines cælicolasque, vectores hinc precum, inde donorum. Apuleius de Deo Socrat. C. --- Gr. continues, "and when thou didst bury the dead, in like manner, I was present with thee; when thou didst not delay to rise and leave thy dinner, that going thou mightest cover the dead; in thy good work, thou wast not hidden from me: but I was with thee. And," &c. v. 14. H.

Ver. 13. Thee. This rule is invariable, that the good may advance in virtue, and set a pattern to the world, (Heb. ii. 18. and xii. 6. Acts xiv. 21. C.) and cancel their smallest faults.

Ver. 14. From the devil, is not in Greek. H. --- In this history, as well as in other parts of Scripture, we have convincing proofs of the good which each one receives from his angel guardian, and from the other blessed spirits. See S. Luke xv. and xvi. S. Chrys. in col. hom. 3. S. Aug. de Civ. Dei. xi. 31. &c. W.

Ver. 15. Raphael. We know also the names of Michael and Gabriel. All others are apocryphal; such as Uriel, Saltiel, Jeadriel Barachiel, &c. --- Seven. This number is clearly specified by S. John, Apoc. i. 4. A mass in their honour was approved by Pius IV. It is supposed that the seven deacons in the Church of Rome, and of Jerusalem, were instituted in imitation of them. The kings, Assuerus, &c. had seven chief officers. Est. i. 10. C. --- Lord, ready to fulfil his orders, as innumerable other angels, of inferior degree, are likewise. M. Dan. vii. 10. --- These were the princes of the heavenly court. S. Jerom (con. Jovin.) admits only seven orders of angels. C. --- Gr. "I am Raphael, one of the seven holy angels who offer up the prayers of the saints, and go out before the glory of the Holy One. And they were both troubled," &c. (H.) at so unusual a thing, (M.) and filled with reverential awe. H. --- They might also suspect that death would shortly follow. C. Gen. xvi. 13.

Ver. 17. Be. Gr. "shall be with you. But praise God: for I came not of my own accord, but by the will of our God. Wherefore praise him for ever."

Ver. 19. I. Gr. "I appeared to you all the days; yet I did not eat nor drink. But you beheld a vision." H. --- Having an aerial body, he made the provisions disappear, as the sun melts snow. Gen. xviii. 9. C. --- He might swallow, though he had no need of meat, (S. Aug. de Civ. Dei. xiii. 22.) or digestion, (Grotius) so as to convert it into his substance. M. --- Men. I constantly enjoy the beatific vision. Mat. xviii. 10. C.

Ver. 20. It. Gr. "And now confess to God, because I ascend to him who sent me. Write ye all these occurrences in a book. And they arose, and beheld him no longer; and they proclaimed the great and wonderful works of God, and how the angel of the Lord had appeared to them." H. - Almost all interpreters infer from this injunction, (C.) that the work before us was originally composed by these holy men. H.

[secretsocietyofstuff]

The

Egsa (old english | scary)

Spell (old english | news)

Ok.

The Biblical Patriarch Abraham (called the father of nations) had one wife and one sister- the same person- and several concubines and mistresses- each of whom begot him many children. Now, when these children grew up- he gifted them each with magical secrets and one by one sent them east as magi to gather initiates for the creation of Mystery Schools.

We know that, with the exception of Issac, the sons and grandsons of Abraham made their way through India, and even further into the Middle East where Abraham is credited as being the progenitor of Islam as is described in the Quran, though the religion did not officially begin until Mohammeds involvement many centuries after Abraham sent his sons away.

So, when during the birth of the Nazari

in Bethlehem he was visited by '3 foreign Magi from the East,' it takes a special significance in my mind that itches and begs to be tussed out.

That is why I am writing this.

It should be noted that there was never any mention in the original texts of exactly how many Magi attended his birth. It is thought that the authors were drunk. No. It is thought that the authors simply assumed that since there were three gifts..there must have been 3 magi to deliver them. Probably wrong. A supposed eye witness account of the magis journey popped up 300 years after the fact claiming that there were 12 or more traveling in the party.

This lends credence to the idea that this was an entire magical order (or at least its senior brethren;) that this order was almost certainly seeded by one of Abrahams sons or grandsons; and that they traveled not only to attend the Nazaris birth but also to examine the god-child and make sure it was of satisfactory health and temperament. The mother would have been looked at by a normal physician.

There are so many thing in just these two stories alone that I want to share with everybody. Things that would make a Southern Baptist stone my ass to death. Things that would make a Methodist very seriously consider leaving the church to worship Satan.

People just don't realize how fragmented the testaments have become. It was intended as a living document that existed in space but outside of time. There was a reason that the original Hebrew texts contained no punctuation and no vowels..at least until the Masoretes got ahold of it. Despite the scores of Southern parishioners taking absolutely everything they read in the Bible at face value- much of what is taken as 'Gospel Truth' has been either misunderstood, mistaken or even simply mistranslated. It isn't conjecture at this point.

Take the following example:

Go to Google translate and type in

"I am a peaceful man."

Now translate from English to Latin to Greek to Hebrew to Greek to Latin and then back to English again. (Almost exactly how we arrived at our most modern Biblical translation minue English at the begining..by the way)

Surprise, surprise. It now reads

"I have an airplane ticket."

The Nazari himself anticipated this ridiculous game of telephone, which is why he communicated his most important messages with parables. Because parables require deeper thought from the listener, deeper thought from the reader and thus deeper thought from the translator as well.

Moving on..

As mentioned in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas:

II. 1 This little child Jesus when he was five years old was playing at the ford of a brook / and he gathered together the waters that flowed there into pools and made them straightway clean [unintelligible] commanded them by his word alone.

2 And having made soft clay, he fashioned thereof twelve sparrows and nd it was the Sabbath when he did these things [or made them,] / and there were also many other little children playing with him.

3 And a certain Jew when he saw what Jesus did, making things upon the Sabbath day, departed straightway and told his father:

"Lo, thy child is at the brook, and he hath taken clay and fashioned twelve little birds. He hath polluted the Sabbath day."

4 And Joseph came to the place and saw: and cried out to him, saying "Wherefore doest thou these things on the Sabbath, which it is not lawful to do?"

So Jesus clapped his hands together and cried out to the sparrows and said to them: Go! and the sparrows took their flight and went away chirping.

5 And when the Jews saw it they were amazed, and departed and told their chief men that which they had seen Jesus do.

And Jesus smirked. [I added that last part in]

!! Astonishingly, at only 5 years of age the Nazari was demonstrating not only a latent understanding of magical systems but also an ability to apply that system to a PHYSICAL ALTERATION OF THE NATURAL WORLD. He was also showing signs of disdain towards the human beings for whom he had been created to protect. And that coupled with observations of the boys power had everyone in town, not least of all "his parents" deeply, deeply terrified and concerned.

Here again from the Infancy Gospel:

1 After that again he went through the village, and a child ran and accidentily dashed against his shoulder. And Jesus was provoked. He said "Thou shalt not finish thy course." And immediatelhetbe boy who provoked him fell dead at the Nazari's feet. and when some of the onlookers saw what he had done they wrenched at their garmets and said

"From whence was this creature born that every word of his is a great work or a miracle or an act of nature."

And then the parents of the boy he had slain marched unto Joseph, and blamed him, saying: "Thou who has such a child cannot dwell with us in this village unless he is taught to heal and not kill and to bless and not curse. For if he remains as is, he he will slayeth all our children / and then what of us?"

1 Immediately Joseph called the young child apart and admonished him, saying:

"Why are you doing these things? Why do you inflict such unforgivable suffering upon these people? So that they hate us and persecute us? Is this what you wish? But Jesus said,

"I know that these words are not your own (!!??) nevertheless for your sake and for the sake of suffering I will hold my peace.

"But them" Jesus pointed to the parents of the young boy he had slain."Them that accused me.. Them shall bear the weight of their punishment, too."

And straightway they that accused him became blind / and they began to moan and to scream in confused horror until little else could be heard in the town.

2 And they that saw it became even more afraid and even more perplexed / and said that every word which he spake whether it were good or bad, was a deed, or a marvel. So they began to very carefully walk away / pretending not to hear the anguish of their neighbors.

And when he saw what the Nazari had done / he arose and took hold upon his ear and wrung it purple. 3 And the young child was wroth and said unto him:

11l

O. "It sufficeth them to seek but not to find, and verily thou hast done unwisely: Don't you know that I am not my own? Vex me not."

I know what you're all thinking. I spent a year of my life going over this document and asking every difficult question that I could think of. So let me save you some time..

1. The document is authentic. The narrative account matches those of others which which say the same thing in their own texts. Even with evidence, perhaps out of fear, I might have dismissed this manuscript if it weren't for similarly described behaviors by another, far older 'Son of God(s); Gilgamesh, King of Uruk- The (weirdly) 3/4 God King of Mesopotamian Sumeria. If you'll recall, Gilgamesh would routinely rape women in the streets in from of their Fathers and Brothers. He once enslaved a quarter of HIS OWN people....HIS OWN PEOPLE...to build ziggurauts in honor of the Gods- a pantheon to which he technically belonged.

Both Gilgamesh and the Nazari began their brief human existences as supremacists. Their distaste for humanity was oozing off of every word they spoke and off of every action they took. And both of them had to be 'corrected;' Gilgamesh by the Gods (through the creation of Enki-Du, a bizarre man-animal hybrid who challenged Gilgamesh to fight after fight until his rage and hatred subsided.) And the Nazari by his human keepers...though not NEARLY as successfully as Gilgamesh. Here is a link to something I wrote about Gilgamesh a few months ago. It may help to clarify whats happening here in case I miss something.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=246927900243739&id=100047795931957

The Gospl continues:

VI. 1 Now a certain teacher, Zacchaeus by name, stood there and he heard in part when Jesus said these things to his father and he marvelled greatly that being a young child he spake such matters. 2 And after a few days he came near unto Joseph and said unto him: Thou hast a wise child, and he hath understanding. Come, deliver him to me that he may learn letters. And I will teach him with the letters all knowledge and that he salute all the elders and honour them as grandfathers and fathers, and love them of his own years.

"And Joseph chuckled." Is what I would have written, because..

3 And he told him all the letters from Alpha even to Omega clearly, with much questioning. But Jesus looked upon Zacchaeus the teacher and saith unto him: Thou that knowest not the Alpha according to its nature, how canst thou teach others the Beta? thou hypocrite, first, if thou knowest it, teach the Alpha, and then will we believe thee concerning the Beta. Then began he to confound the mouth of the teacher concerning the first letter, and he could not prevail to answer him. 4 And in the hearing of many the young child saith to Zacchaeus: Hear, O teacher, the ordinance of the first letter and pay heed to this, how that it hath [what follows is really unintelligible, but it disturbingly picks up..]

VII. 1 Now when Zacchaeus the teacher heard such and then so many allegories of the first letter spoken by the young child, he was perplexed at his answer and his instruction being so great, and said to them that were gathered there:

Woe is me, wretch that I am, I am confounded! I have brought shame to myself by drawing to me this young child.

2 THIS CHILD IS NOT EARTHLY BORN: this is one that can tame even fire: this is one begotten before the making of the world!

WHAT BELLY BORE THIS? what womb nurtured it? Woe is me, He putteth me from my sense, I cannot follow his understanding. I have deceived myself!

Goddamn. GODDAMN. I mean what the fuck, man? I remember reading this for the first time and simultaneously remembering what the older version of this creature said to his people in Mathew 10:34;

'Do not assume that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.'

~shudder~

I'll explain how truly terrifying that statement really is in part 2.

-Chad

[rowdy-revenant]

The Beauty of a Beast - part 6

Characters: Y/N Singer, Castiel, Jack, Crowley (mentioned), Balthazar, Chuck, Charlie, Gabriel - future pairing of Gabriel x reader

Words: 1300+

Beta-reader: @nobodys-baby-now​

Chapter summary: After dinner you decide to break the number one rule; don’t go into the west wing.

A/N: I cut part of this out and added it to chapter 7. Also this is an au where Jack, Lucifer, and Castiel have a healthy familial relationship

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[General masterlist] [Gabriel masterlist]

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

Part 6 - Be Our Guest

You sat yourself down at a long and elegant dining room table. Castiel had ushered you here after some tea, Jack trailing closely behind, his positive attitude brightening up your strange and unpleasant evening.

Crowley had suggested, or rather insisted on a clothing change, claiming that you could use a better outfit. The tailor did have good taste. The clothes you wore were warm and much cleaner than what you previously had on.

Before you on the table was a meal you would only have on a holiday, though Castiel had told you it wasn’t much. A bowl of stew was in the middle, steam rising from it surrounding you with scents of fresh vegetables and herbs. Next to that was a plate of bread, a dish of butter and a knife next to it. In the front was a glass of water and one of wine.

“Our guest of honour!” Balthazar smiled. He walked down the length of the table towards you. “I see you’ve met Cas and Jack.”

You nodded. “So is Jack… his son?”

“Nephew.” A grand piano in the corner corrected. “Castiel is my brother.”

“That’s Lucifer.” Chuck explained.

“I can’t exactly visit my son in the kitchen. As you can see, I’ve grown quite a bit and can’t fit through the door.” Lucifer laughed. “But those two come see me. Cas cares for Jack when I can’t. I mean his mother…”

“Hasn’t been with us for a while.” Jack finished for his father.

Lucifer made a sound like he was clearing his throat, though it was more like a few low keys being played. “Yep.”

You picked up your spoon and started on the stew. It tasted as good as it smelled. When you’d finished a bit, you asked “How long have you been here?”

Chuck thought it over. “To be honest, we’ve lost track of time. The weather doesn’t change. We don’t seem to age, nor does the master. I guess the only way to be certain is to count the fallen p-”

“-pages of a calendar!” Balthazar cut in with an over enthusiastic voice. “Shame we don’t have one. Point is it’s been a long time. Too long.”

“Right…” You muttered, eyeing the candelabra before returning your focus to your meal. “Do you guys eat at all?”

Balthazar shook his head. “No. The master still does though. Some of us sleep, though we don’t need it. There just isn’t a lot else to do here.”

“So you were all human once. Even the beast?” You asked. “How did this happen?”

Nobody answered for a while. Everyone shared glances and unspoken words.

“Sometimes some questions are best left unanswered.” Castiel finally said.

When you’d finished your meal, everyone agreed it was time for you to go to bed. You offered to help clean up, but Chuck assured you it wasn’t necessary.

“Get some sleep,” Castiel instructed. “We can clean up here.”

You sighed. “Okay, okay. Thank you all again. You’re all too kind to me.”

“A little kindness goes a long way.” Charlie chirped, smiling.

Her smile was contagious. You could feel the corners of your mouth turn up.

So you left the dining room. The sun had long since set,  and the lamps along the wall lit your way. You headed up the stairs and to the-

You instinctively reached for the right hand banister, yet you couldn’t help but stop and turn towards the left staircase. Nothing was really stopping you from exploring the west wing. The servants were busy. The beast was nowhere to be seen. Just what was in there that you couldn’t know about? What secrets did this castle hide?

Against the instructions of the enchanted servants, you walked up the stairs to the west wing.

By comparison, the rest of the castle was in perfect condition. With every step you took up the stairs, dust rained down from the ceiling. The hall at the top hall was dark, yet you could still see the faded, peeling wallpaper. The west wing was a mirror image of the east. There were two large doors that were similar to those of the room you were staying in.

Your hand reached up and pulled open one of the doors. The creaking noise reverberated throughout the empty hall. Quickly and quietly, you slipped inside. Only after you entered, it hit you; this was the Beast’s room.

The room was massive, easily the biggest bedroom in the entire castle, illuminated by many candles. Against one wall was an unmade four poster bed. One of its curtains had fallen to the ground and laid in a pool of fabric. Golden and copper feathers were scattered around the floor.

Above the fireplace was an oil painting, destroyed by claw marks. Large scratches covered the face of a man. Carefully, you raised your hand and moved some of the torn canvas back into place.

He appeared to be around your age, and very, very handsome. The man’s face was more curved than angular. His nose was prominent and sharp, the tip of it ended with a faint little divot. His lips were well defined, the top one sticking a little further out in an overbite. Chin length hair that seemed to be a caramel between blonde and brown was slicked back, curls forming at the nape of his neck.

And his eyes… those eyes were familiar. A rare shade of amber. Deep, captivating, and beautiful. But cold and heartless. They seemed identical to that of… the Beast?

“No way…” You couldn’t help but murmur.

As you turned away you could see this room seemed to branch off into another one. This second area was more elevated, surrounded by panes of glass instead of walls and a ceiling. Some was broken, letting snowflakes float down to the ground. An open door lead to a large balcony that overlooked an unkempt garden.

In the middle of this room was a table. On the centre of it was a glass cloche, its surface intricately carved, containing a single rose. Somehow, it stood with nothing to hold it up. A soft light seemed to originate from the red petals. A few of those red petals had fallen and collected at the base, where they had shrivelled up. You could easily count the number that still remained on the stem.

You walked up the couple of steps to see the rose closer. It was magic, no doubt about it. Was a rose worth hiding? Was it worth this much secrecy? You reached your hand out to touch the glass cloche when a thud shook the ground.

The Beast had landed on the balcony, a snarl forming on his face. His wings were spread wide, casting a terrifying shadow. “What are you doing?! You shouldn’t be in here!” He growled as he stormed inside.

Quickly, you stepped away from the rose. The Beast seemed furious, even more sore than when you had refused dinner. Yet his voice wavered with the slightest hint of fear.

“No no no no! What did you do to it?!” The creature demanded, putting his paws on the glass and inspecting the flower.

“N- nothing!” You stammered. “I-”

“Get out.” The Beast growled. He turned you you, those amber eyes filled with anger. “GET OUT!”

You sure as hell didn’t have to be told twice. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, out the room, down the hall, down the stairs.

Charlie flew by you as you approached the main staircase. “Wait, weren’t you going to-”

Ignoring her, you pressed on. The rest of the staff were exiting the dining hall and saw you attempting an escape.

“Wait!” Balthazar pleaded. “Please!”

“He said get out, so I’m getting the fuck out!” You yelled back.

“B-b-but it’s dangerous!” Chuck stuttered.

“Not as dangerous as the beast in here.”

~ Murdoch’s tag list - want to be added or removed? Send me an ask! ~

All fics: @a-r-c-h-a-n-g-e-l @ashiewesker @ashtheironbat @authoressskr @baritonechick @blessedbebucky @crowleysprincess159 @cynda-kiwi @d4rzill4 @fayepummeluff @feelmyroarrrr @gabriels-depressed-angel @hunters-hiraeth @impatient-witch @kristaparadowski @lenawiinchester @like-gabriel-and-castiel @madelineannmolder @negansgrimes @oldpaperfan @sdavid09 @shrimpdrake @sumara62 @tangle-of-ivy @team-barry @thehowling1234 @thewhiterabbit42 @treitike @tenderlybeautifulbarbarian @tyrex15 @unsink-the-titanic

All Supernatural: @gabriels-trix​

Gabriel: @elven-leaf​ @hiddles-and-skittles​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @im-gabriels-bitch​ @jannalionheart​ @elenawrit​ @trollhunter94​

The Beauty of a Beast: @a-michellerae-things @a-vast-african-plain​ @clockworkmorningglory @red-bandana-girl@icharleecongrevemultifandomsblog @person-born-winchester 

[kuriquinn]

The Last To Know [2/5]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Beta Reader: None right now. Check back later.

Warning: Some language

AN: Also, added a big chunk to the end of last chapter, so do go back and read :)

First Chapter

Sakura takes her time headed to the Hokage’s office, going over what she intends to say once she’s standing before her former teacher and teammate. She plans to ask about in a mature manner, to learn the whole story from them as well—Kakashi, being Hokage, likely has access to any records concerning the incident. He can clarify certain points she’s having trouble with, and if Naruto is around he can…

Naruto can…

Sakura swallows, a stabbing pain in her throat, her heart beating a rapid rhythm against her neck, a rushing in her ears as a horrible truth looms over her. It pales in comparison to what Sasuke told her about his brother and his family’s deaths, and yet it’s making her lungs constrict and her stomach rebel once again.

She is angry and helpless and doesn’t know how to help Sasuke or who to be mad at. She needs to do something, and it’s all in the past and can’t be fixed both there’s something…something that she can deal with right now, something that she thought was dealt with long ago.

But Sasuke’s confession has revealed to her that it wasn’t.

No, she tells herself firmly. Breathe. Keep emotions in check. I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m a shinobi.

As she walks into the building, she remains calm and composed, perhaps not as prone to smiling at the many clerks there as she usually is, but not the slowly unravelling ball of emotions she is right now. Her presence is common enough here that no one expects her to make an appointment, and she walks into Kakashi’s office without even having to knock at the door.

Everything is so far going according to plan.

Until she looks around the room and sees Kakashi going over mission briefs with Naruto, who is complaining loudly, the way he always did. And for them, today is no different from any other day; they are coping and living with the knowledge Sasuke has imparted to her without another thought.

And that’s when her plans go out the window.

Literally.

It happens too fast for her to be entirely aware of it.

One minute she is closing the door behind her, and the next her fist is colliding with Kakashi’s chest.

She curbed her strength – mostly – so he shouldn’t have any damage that a competent healer couldn’t fix, but it’s to fast for him to get a substitution to take the full brunt of her blow. He and his chair go flying through the windows and wall behind him, throwing up a huge plume of dust.

“What the hell, Sakura?!” Naruto cries, grabbing hold of her from behind. The air around him crackles, like he isn’t sure whether he should be entering his Tailed Beast Chakra Mode.

She shrugs him off with ease.

“Three years,” she replies in a cold, furious voice.

“…Huh?”

“Three years, you’ve been lying to me.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“Uchiha,” she bites out through clenched teeth. “Itachi Uchiha.”

Naruto doesn’t understand right away, but as the seconds of silence tick by, he begins to pale with realisation. “Sakura—we couldn’t—”

“Don’t.”

“The fewer people who knew—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she growls.

“Sakura.” Kakashi has popped back into existence beside them, looking a little bruised, and eyes more sombre than she’s seen in a while. He waves a dismissive hand at several ANBU that are peeking inside until the three of them are standing alone. Distantly it occurs to her that technically she may have committed treason for assaulting the Hokage, but somehow, she can’t seem to care. “This was to protect the peace of the village.”

“To protect murderers,” she spits.

“If you think about it, we didn’t lie to you,” Naruto begins, “we just didn’t—”

“If you say you just didn’t tell me and so that’s technically not a lie, I will pull out your ribcage and wear it as a hat,” she informs him flatly.

He makes a sound like a squeak, while Kakashi sighs. “The omission was necessary, especially so soon after the war.”

“Maybe if this was a few months after the war that I was finding out, I’d believe that,” Sakura says, still deadly quiet and trembling. “But it’s been years, Kakashi.”

“This wasn’t a piece of gossip, Sakura, it involved the security and stability of Konoha.”

“Did you expect that I was going to tell someone?” she snarls. “Me? I’m the last person who would reveal anything that could harm Sasuke or Konoha in any way!”

“Sakura—“

“I am the only student you ever trained that had the necessary skills and discretion to achieve jōnin rank,” she goes on, drowning him out. “Apprentice to the Fifth Hokage which, I’m sure you of all people know, requires a certain amount of discretion. Head of Konoha’s hospital. Personnel and patient files are all rather confidential, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sak—”

“Hell, long before any of that, I was kidnapped and beaten for information and I didn’t give it up because I would rather die first!” she bites out. “And you’re argument is that you thought I was too much of a security risk to tell me that the village—”

“We never said that!” Naruto protests loudly.

“YOU LET ME BELIEVE A LIE FOR THREE YEARS!” Sakura’s voice cracks painfully here, and she swallows, having difficulty breathing for a moment. Tears threaten to fall, but she fights them back, because today of all days will not be the day that she cries. Because she is Sakura Fucking Haruno, and the twelve-year-old weepy child she used to be has been nothing but a memory for years now. “You let me think Sasuke was…”

“Sakura…”

“He thought I knew already,” she whispers, and watches them both freeze. “He thought you two would have told me. You know why he might have thought that?” Naruto’s expression is aggrieved, Kakashi’s resigned. They know what she’s about to say. “Because you’re my friends. Before we are teammates or compatriots or students and teacher…we’re friends.” She inhales shakily. “And he thought you would have told me the truth. Never even occurred to him that you wouldn’t. That I wouldn’t have all the same information that you both did. Because we were friends.”

“We are!” Naruto protests.

“Are we?”

“We were trying to protection.”

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” Sakura shouts, managing to keep her volume down this time, but only just. “I am not that silly twelve year old girl anymore! I have watched men bleed to death in front of my eyes and held beating hearts in my fingers trying to fix them! I am a hero to villages that don’t even have names, I am the reason half of the people in this village aren’t dead or orphaned! I have birthed babies and killed assassins and walked into battle to fight by your side, so don’t you dare try to tell me you still think I need to be protected!”

“Of course we don’t—”

“I tried to kill the man I am in love with because I thought he had to be stopped for his own safety as well as others…without even questioning why…and there was an actual reason for what he did, and it wasn’t just because of some thousand-year-old curse!” she cries. “He tried to kill me because he thought I knew and was in on it! And we both have to live with that memory now! Forever!”

“Your relationship with Sasuke doesn’t give you clearance to know all the village’s secrets, Sakura. Even Naruto isn’t privy to all of them—even I’m not, sometimes,” Kakashi says quietly, clearly trying to maintain some sense of his position. And while she understands that, she still resents it.

“But he could know about this?” she challenges. “A genin who failed every test related to secrecy and subterfuge that we ever took?”

“Hey!” Naruto says in an injured tone.

“You know the point I’m trying to make.”

“You’re trying to subtly remind me about keeping this impersonal,” she counters. “Fine. Then let me point out, according to the rules, your successor is a shinobi of a lower rank than I am—saviour of the world or not. As his superior, you’re not according m the respect and merit of my station. The information I received today is something I should have known since I became a jōnin, because my job is to protect the village from threats. Not knowing has kept me from pursuing that purpose.”

Kakashi’s eyes narrow. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Why have the Elders not been removed from their positions?” she interrupts.

“Sakura,” he begins, a warning note in his voice.

“No,” she cuts him off. “If Danzō planned all of it, they knew. And they didn’t stop him. People died, Kakashi! Our people, and one of our own was forced to do it! And you think a pretty plaque in a graveyard makes up for that? That is not justice.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Because they continue to be involved!” she snaps. “How many times has their behaviour led to more problems that almost destroyed Konoha from within? For fuck’s sake, we never needed to worry about outside enemies with them around! And yet they retain their positions, their income and the respect of the village, while Itachi is just a name carved on a block of stone and Sasuke is going to spend the rest of his life a pariah because he was trying to get justice for what they allowed to happen?”

“Sakura—”

“No, I’m not done,” she interrupts. “Everyone thinks Itachi’s being honoured because of what he did when he was resurrected by the Edo Tensei—and don’t even get me started on how Kabuto and Orochimaru have all-but been pardoned for their actions after everything—when in truth it’s more than that! If Sasuke’s brother hadn’t acted, Konoha would have been reduced to ashes thirteen years ago! It’s his name that should be taught in our schools or put up on statues, not Danzō or the Elders or the people who almost caused the destruction in the first place!”

“I don’t disagree with you on any of those points,” Kakashi sighs. “But they can’t, Sakura. For the sake of peace. If people thought that those in positions of power in the village—the same individuals they put their trust in to protect them—could be capable of what they did, it would destabilise the government. We may be in a recovery period, but it’s still fragile enough that I’m not sure we could survive if that happened. I’m sure you understand this.”

She clenches her fists, frowning at him, because her logical mind knows that he’s right about that point, at least.

“Something still has to be done,” she insists.

“And it will,” Kakashi promises. “But it will take time. I can work within the shadows and make the political moves necessary, but the push for change has to come from the people. Between you and Naruto, I’m sure you can figure something out. But it won’t happen over night. It’s what’s known as a long game.”

She crosses his arms.

“We’ll figure something out,” Naruto repeats, in a soft and placating voice. And though she knows he means it, and that he probably won’t rest until this problem is fixed, the discord in her heart doesn’t abate.

“None of that excuses the fact that neither of you told me the truth,” she replies. “And Kakashi…I can understand not saying anything. But you, Naruto?”

“It wasn’t…we weren’t sure if…” Naruto hedges, while Kakashi just looks uncomfortable.

That ever-growing suspicion sets in with a bitter twist in her gut.

“You didn’t think Sasuke wanted me to know,” she realises. Her voice feels very far away from her when she asks, “Why? Because of village secrecy? His pride? Or because he doesn’t care about me the way I care about him?”

“No!” Naruto cries. “That’s not it at all!”

“I know our connection isn’t as a strong as the one between you two,” she admits, the words scraping against her throat as she says them. She’s always suspected Sasuke had more regard for Naruto than her, but to have it confirmed that others think the same is still a difficult pill to swallow. “I might not be the reincarnation of his family, but I am his friend. And if I never have anything else, I’ll always have that. And on that fact alone, if you two knew…I should have known.”

“We thought you were better off not knowing,” Kakashi says. “You’re a healer, Sakura, you want to make people feel better. And this is something you can’t heal. We’ve both seen how you take it to heart when you can’t help. We believed we were sparing you that.”

“Again with the protecting me bit?” she questions, shaking her head. All of a sudden, all of the fight goes out of her. “I see. To you all, I will never be anything but that little girl who trailed after you like puppies.” She clenches her eyes tight, still fighting back angry tears. “How can you say you’re my friends, if you can’t trust me with knowing information like this? Sasuke did. If the person who has distanced himself from me for my entire life can show me that respect…why can’t you two?”

She turns to leave.

“Sakura, don’t go!” Naruto cries. “Let’s talk about this!”

“No.  You should have talked before,” she retorts. “Now you’re going to wait for me to decide to talk to you. I…need some time to think about this. And about what it means for my future.”

“Your future?” Kakashi echoes.

“I need to decide if I want to continue to serve a village that doesn’t trust me with something so vital,” she whispers, “and if I should keep friends who don’t either.”

Before either of them can stop her, she uses a Shushin to escape the stifling office.

つづく

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Also, if you are in a supportive mood , you can find my tip jar here. 

クリ

Next Chapter

[castielgurl]

The Soldier, the Spy and the Underoos

for @romanogersweek

Artwork9 Based on amazing 

fan art http://romanogersweek.tumblr.com/tagged/artwork9

by @ym4yum1

Beta by @ym4yum1 and dedicated to @ym4yum1

They were in Germany when Peter met the Black Widow for the first time. He couldn't  take his eyes off of her. Because she was the most  beautiful thing he ever seen. Well, sure he had met pretty girls in his school. But no one could be compared to the Black Widow. She was the definition of beauty. When he saw her fighting,  moving with precise and impressive skills, with such flexibility and tiny body, that made him respect her so much. He was  flexible but not as much as her. He wondered who she was and what she has been through in her life to make her fight like that. He had a crush on her. Well, every guy in his school had a crush on her. He would never be able to talk to her even if he  tried to. He was sure that no words would come out of his mouth. He only knew her from the comic books and gossip column in  the online tabloid.

One day he came back from school – it was after he had fought Vulture, a week ago. He thought he was hallucinating when he saw the blonde woman wearing  tight pants and a black jacket. She was staring at him and smirking while he was sitting on his bed. No words came out of his mouth.

“Well. We met before.” She said with a tiny smirk on her perfect lips.

“You are… you are… well you...” Peter struggled to find his words.

“I'm Natasha.” She said while coming closer to him.

“Well. You are the Black Widow.” He looked down at his feet. trying not to look at her eyes.

“Yes. Remember me, Peter?” She came close to him again.

“Yes. Well… what are doing here? And how did you get in here?” Peter was still shaking.

“Well, I don’t need a door to get in here. That's my style. Besides, you can climb out of your room’s window. and So I can do the same.” Natasha said while looking around.

“That’s awesome. I mean, your skills are pretty impressive., Miss Romanoff. Well, I'm sorry about my room, it is a little bit… um… It’s a mess.” Peter picked up his comic book and his calculus textbook on the floor and put them on his bed, very quickly. “Do you need anything, coffee? Orange juice?” Peter asked.

“No., I'm fine. Thank you for asking. Getting coffee is not the reason I'm here. Come here and sit down. Don't be afraid of me. I won’t bite.” Natasha said pointing at his computer chair.

Peter sat down on the chair.

Then she explained, “I need you Peter. The Avengers need you.”

Peter got so excited when he heard the word “Avengers”

“Yes I'm ready! I will do anything you ask me. Save people and  whatever the mission is.” Peter was almost jumping on his seat.

“Well, we do have a mission for you. We need you to go back to class.”  Natasha said.

“What? Go to class? But I go there every day.” Peter said.

“It’s not your regular class in high school, Peter. It is an extra class in Virginia University.” Natasha said as she held her smartphone and showed him some news article. “This is Professor McDonald, he teaches Biology at Virginia University. We believe he is creating a serum that could make humans grew bigger and become super strong. And he is on Hydra’s radar. We believe Hydra is paying him to create this serum to make their agents super strong. Can you imagine what if they could accomplish? Super strong bad guys? And it’s possible that he will sell it to the market.” Natasha said as she was scrolling her phone.

“I'm not going to let that happen. What if they sell it to the market? Bullies will get worse.” Peter stood up from his chair. speaking passionately.  since  bullies were a big issue for him, “I'm going to take him down now.”

“No., no Calm down, little boy. We have a plan. Your job is to follow our plan.” Natasha said as if she almost panicked when she saw Peter so determined. She’ve never seen that spirit in any Avengers before.

“Our? You mean you have a team?” Peter calmed down a little.

“Just me and Cap. Well, Rogers.” She forgot that Steve didn't allow anyone to call him Captain anymore. “He’d hate if anyone screwed up his plan. And we can't compromise working with anyone who wants to work alone.”

“Woah…, woah, woah... You mean Captain America? That is awesome! Thank you for giving me a chance, Miss Romanoff. It will be an honour to work with you and Cap.” Peter slightly jumped and squeaked. Natasha thought it was very cute.

“Well, this was easier than I thought. What I want you to do is to attend his class and investigate every detail. You will report to me.”

“Wait. When will I go?”

“Tonight.”

“What about Aunt May?”

“Just tell her you will attend an extra class. And don't worry about her, I will handle her.”

It turned out that Natasha’s skill to influence people was majestic. She told May that she was his tuition teacher. And gave her a free resort voucher to the Thailand Hotel. So Aunt May would will be absent from home for 3 days. Thankfully she had not read the news about the Black Widow. May had no idea who Natasha was.

On that night, Captain arrived. Peter saluted him as soon as he saw him. Steve almost had a heart attack. Natasha almost laughed when she saw his reaction. Nobody saluted him before, not after he had served his country. Besides, he was is not a Captain anymore.

“Captain...It’s an honour to meet you..Again. I'm sorry I took  you down in the airport. And I'm sorry for stealing your shield. I want you to know that you still have my respect Sir. You inspired me to be hero, and you still is my hero. No matter what the government says.” Peter spoke with his shaky voice.

“I know. I know. Thank you, and it is nice to meet you, Peter. Well, we’ve never introduced properly before.” Steve tried to shake his hands. And Peter was more than eager to do it. “Just call me Steve. And not Captain anymore. As you can see  I'm changed. A Captain isn't suppose to have a beard. Not in the military.” He said surprised by  how strong Peter’s handshake was.

“Well, you’ll always be Captain America for me.”

Steve exchanged  a look with Natasha. And she just smirked at him. “So, well, are you ready for your mission?”

“Yes. Anytime.”

Natasha handed him a small brooch and explained that it was actually a microphone, and a pair of glasses that actually had a hidden camera.

“Remember, do not take action unless we ask you to. Don't do anything more than ordinary. Just show interest in his lecture and ask questions. But don’t do too much,” Natasha warned warning him.

“We’ll always be standing by you . If you need back up. Understood?” Steve said.

“Yes Sir! But.. can I bring my suit?” Peter asked as he put his backpack  on his shoulder.

“Yes. But don't use it.” Steve said.

Steve and Natasha watched the camera while sitting on Peter's bed. The class is two hour. And nothing happen. Peter writes down everything the professor said. Natasha passes out, and she lean her head on his shoulder. Off course Steve had been close to Nat before. But this time, she is very close. And no one is around. He touch her hair, her new hair, her smells turned him on. He didn't care red or blonde he loves her hair. He kisses her hair, and slowly moves her head and legs so she lay on the bed comfortably. He almost falls on her body and Natasha body turned so her head is close to his Their lips almost touch each other. It takes him a few second to not to kiss her mouth. Until the bedroom door is open. Peter standing there awkwardly

“Peter! Oh you back. Sorry. Just she is tired. Just let her sleep for a while” Steve almost jumped when he sees Peter.

“Oh. Do you need a time for privacy?” Peter said awkwardly

Steve face turn red. “No. No we fine. Let’s talk outside.” Steve said as he walks to out to living room.

Peter told him he put his little spidey trackers, so they can track him everywhere The Professor go. He also asked about the DNA formula in Professor McDonald research. But refuse to share it. And he thought that's odd. He also observed an adult men sitting behind the class suspiciously. Tomorrow he had a lab class so he promises to get more information.

Peter was surprised to found out that Steve Rogers not only interested on the mission he also asking who he was, about his parents, his aunt May and his uncle Ben. And Peter learned that who is Steve Rogers before and find the similarities between them. Both of them lost their parents and living in a poor condition. He never thought that Steve is very care and emotionally deep person. He only saw him as Captain America, mean old men with and strict with rules. He also asked about Natasha.

“She had been through a lot of things in her life. But she is very secretive. I knows her for years, I still don't know who she is. But she is the good person and I won't be adapt to this new world, if not because of her. It makes me think sometimes; despite it was painful to lose your life. But she makes it worth. Maybe she is the reason I wake up again in this new century. I won't regret any single thing” Steve said with a lot of emotion in his eyes.

Peter thinks it was powerful. The love between them is powerful that become the real reason for them to woke up and feels bless to be alive.

Tomorrow Natasha wakes up and realizes it was seven in the morning. She can’t find Steve in this room. She looks around and found Steve sleeping on the couch. She stares at him. He is very handsome young man. She always thinks of that every time she stares at him. But she looks around to find Peter and realized that he must be at school. She looks again his living room and found a family picture. She takes as shower and sitting on Peter's bed to dry her hair. And then she sees something look like a comic book with bright yellow cover just below a Peter's pillow. She picks up and looks at it. It was title with Captain America and Black Widow: The Soldier and the Spy A love Story

She found it's funny. Off course she knows about The Avengers comic book. But she never had seen this one. It looks like it was published on 70s. She open and read it.

Steve and Natalia met during a world war 2 where she was send to kills him. But she let him go. And that cause the red room torture her, until she was safe by Steve Rogers. But not after that Steve was kills during a fight with The Red Skull. And he wakes up again in the new century and met Natalia who now known as Natasha.

“You are a very handsome young man Steve Rogers....And for the first time, perhaps I'm allowing myself to see that, to see you as someone other than icon called Captain”

This is bullshit.

“May I offer my threat?”

“That's mighty nice of you Tasha”

“Assuming of course that Jennifer does not want you all to herself”

There is no where I'm saying that. They make me pathetic fan girls.

“Please stop me Steve. Take me with you.” Right before she left the grave yard.

Shit

“I'm not good enough for you. You deserve everything Rogers. Even that dream not included me”

“Bruce is just a distraction. The truth is I'm in love with you.”

Fuck!  

“Nat?” Steve stands on the door.

“Yeah?” Natasha immediately fixes her face

“Are you alright? I heard you cursed or something.”

“Nothing, just angry with my hair, bad hair day” Natasha said as she hiding the comic behind her body.

“Well. I'm asking if you want some breakfast. I 'm going to buy sandwich.”

“Sure. Cool”

________________________________________________________________

Later Peter got back from school and Steve Rogers out to buy a dinner for them.

“You have to lie to get what you want Peter.” Natasha talk to him

“I don't know how lie” Peter said

“Really? You had been lying about your identity for year now.”

“That is my biggest secret. I'm did it for May”

“If it for saving life. Are you going to do it?”

“But I'm not sure if I convincing enough”

“Well Peter, watch what I'm doing carefully” Natasha went to refrigerator and get 2 big green chilli.

She eats the chilli in front of Peter like nothing. Peter eyes widen.

“What? Is not that spicy right?” Peter gets up and takes another green chilli from refrigerator. And eat it. Second later he coughed, his tongue burning like fire. His stomach feels hot too. Natasha picks plain water and gives it to him. After a few minutes and he drink a lot of water and he managed to ask Natasha.

“I don’t understand. How you do that?” Peter asking, he almost cries.

“Lying, even you hurt, you pretend it wasn't. If they find you lying, give some truth in it and make it up with lies. But do not lie to people care about you except if it needed” Natasha take a plain water and start to drink it.

Later, Natasha and Peter prepare the dinner. Peter pours some orange juice.

“Steve will not drink that. The way you arrange the plate is wrong too. Steve will not like it. And put plain water near his plate.” Natasha said as she put salad in the bowl

Peter surprise how close they are. The little detail remind him to Michelle

“Natasha how long have you and Steve been together?” Peter asking innocently

“We are not together. We are partner.”

“But he really cares about you.”

“Because he is gentleman”

“But not like that. He checked every hour to see if you slept well or not.”

Natasha surprise, she wonder if he did checked her every night.

“Steve really cares about me. But he cares about everyone in his team too.”

“I guess. You know, I have this girl, she was very weird. She did not talk to anybody, she did not have any friend. She noticed every single detail about me. I don't know how and why. She knew I quited band, she knows where I'm going after school. She draw me” Peter tells his story

“She likes you” Natasha chuckle

“No, she can't be. Nobody likes me. I'm a nerd, I did not have many friends, I'm a loner” Peter can't see anything special in him

“She likes you because you very similar to her. Girl won't pay attention so much to a guy, unless she had a crush on him” Natasha smile. And see Peter face got red.

“So, you like him too right?  Because you pay attention so much about him”

“No, me and Rogers is a different story”

“I didn't say Captain Rogers”

Damn Peter, you got me.

“Peter as you grown up, you will see. When two people was in love each other started to yell about why she did not reply texting, yell about why he going back late. Why you put a cinnamon in steak. They are fighting about every small thing. Being in love is easy, but being in relationship is the hardest.” Natasha tries to hide her blush on her face

“I know, I seen my parents, and Aunt May and Uncle Ben” Peter said, as he face looks sad

Steve Rogers arrives with their dinner. As they eating dinner, they talk about their plan.

________________________________________________________________

Peter get ready, and sees Natasha in front of door. Dress up as like a kindergarten teacher.

“Today I'm going to take you the class”

Natasha was very good at acting, she pretended to be his aunt. Professor McDonald didn`t expect anything. Natasha even asked, if he can give extra lesson to her “Nephew”. He said yes of course.

Peter said Professor wanted him to go his house tomorrow.

That night all three of them watched the spidey tracker, to see where Professor goes. Peter observed Steve and Natasha obviously flirting with each other. Steve will get a coffee every hour, and asked if she want to sleeps. And Natasha will bring him his favourite snack. He thinks they are very cute.

“Are you guys dating?” Peter said

“No” Both of them says at the same time.

“There was a gossip about you two in Hollywood tabloids. Many people ship you two.”

“What is ship means is it like a ship?” Steve ask because he so confuse.

“Please Roger's; you did not know what that is?” Natasha rolles her eyes

“Ship is support or has a particular interest in a romantic pairing between two characters in fictional series.” Peter said as he Google from his phone.

“Is that why you have a comic book about Captain and Black Widow? You ship us?” Natasha asks, as she lifts her eyebrows.

“What? Come on all boys reading comic.” Peter defends himself, as his start blushing.

“What is that comic about? They did comic about us?” Steve knows about comics, they make Captain America comic since the world war two.

“Nothing, Rogers, just normal comic book about us take down hydra” Natasha said as she signal to Peter, to not let Steve find out.

_______________________________________________________________

That night Steve is the only one was awake. He try to find the comic book Natasha talking about. He shouldn't bother, but he knew Peter and Natasha hid something.

As tomorrow, Peter going to Professor McDonald`s private class. Natasha convinced him to showed them his lab. And he showed them without suspect anything.

Steve knew something is wrong. Natasha should give a signal, a text or a secret code of something. But he did not receive anything. He anxiously waits in the car behind Professor McDonald house. He just about to breaking the house, he saw four large black hummer, arrived in front of the door.

“Captain? Long time no see” As a man in black with trench coat approach him outside of the car.

“I'm surprised to find you here Cap” The man said

“I think I should be the one who more surprise. Because I just saw a man comes back from death” Steve said. He very disappointed as he sees Phil Coulson still alive.

“I'm dying, but they found a way to make me alive again.” Phil

“So your death is just some kind of joke to us?” Steve said sarcastically

“You guys need a push. But I'm kind of proud of what I'm doing. If I'm not dead, there is no Avengers. More people will die” Phil said as usual, he did not show his emotion.

“I will deal with you later. I need to see what's going on in there” Steve said as he clearly angry and push Phil away

“Cap, you need to calm down. Nothing is going on. Professor McDonald worked for us.” Phil said as he tries to stop him

“What? S.H.I.E.L.D knows about this? S.H.I.E.L.D or whatever you call yourself. The serum is not going to anywhere. Nobody will get it, not even you” Steve as his start to shows his anger. He tired of this bullshit. He breaks the door. And he sees no one around.  Phil gives a signal to S.T.R.I.K.E team to hold their weapon.

“Natasha? Natasha!!”

Then he heard something big coming from the basement. He was hiding and ready to attack. He saw a giant red foot. Then he look up and

“Hulk?” Steve is in shock.

He is hulk but not a hulk, a red hulk. Then everybody scream and said what the fuck is that?? The S.T.R.I.K.E team start to shooting at him that caused the red hulk angry. Steve distracted him, tried getting him to paid attention to him. Steve successfully avoided his punches. And stopped hulk fist with his hand. And then he saw a spider web cover hulk face. He knew it, Spiderman was there.

Steve punched hulk abs and hulk very angry. Hulk cannot see anything and tries to remove the web on his eyes but failed. Then Peter uses his web to tie the hulk feet just like he did to Giant Man in Germany. And gave the signal for Steve to attack. Steve jumped as high as he can and punch the red hulk face and as hard as he can. Then the hulk felt down and fainted.

“Peter! Where is Nat?” Steve asking worriedly

“She was at the basement” Then Peter realized basement is not basement anymore. Is just a piece of concrete now?

“Nat! Natasha!! Natasha!!!” Steve screams her name and removed the heavy piece of rubble with his hand. He is much panicked.  Then the hulk woke up again and punched Peter send him flying across the yard. Steve looked back and in ready to fight again. But he heard a very familiar voice.

“Professor McDonald. Please look at her. She is your daughter. She knows you and believes you. You know her don't you?” Natasha walks closer to red hulk with a little girl.

“Daddy!” The little girl starts to cry.

“Stop this. You are a good man Professor. At least in your daughter eyes” Natasha said as she holds the little girl shoulder. Then red hulk slowly turn to human and pass out. The little girl runs to her dad.

Steve was very relieved to see Natasha. And jumped to hug her tightly. Natasha was surprised by his reaction.

“I'm fine Steve.” Natasha looks fine.

“Don't ever do that again. I can't lose you Nat” Steve said as he looking at her eyes.

“So you are very worried huh?” Natasha teasing him

“Of course. But what you just did was amazing Nat.”

“Did what?”

“The hulk weakness is his daughter. Even when he turned into a monster, he stills himself inside his heart. You did without a fight and without blood. That's amazing Nat.” Steve said as he holds her face.

“Are you really flirting Steve?” Natasha smirks at him.

“Hello? I'm bleeding here!” Peter yells to get their attention. They almost forgot about Peter.

“Agent Romanoff, we haven't seen each other for a long time” Phil approach them. Steve grabs his collar and lifts him like his weight is nothing.

“Steve! Put him down!” Natasha yells at him.

“None of this happen if not because of S.H.I.E.L.D. Hulk almost kill you and the 15 year old boy!” Steve said angrily

“I know. Just put him down ok.” Natasha persuade him

Steve releases him. Steve thought Natasha about to help Phil. But Natasha punched his face with one movement. And Phil passes out.

The mystery location Steve found in the tracker was S.H.I.E.L.D based where they cooperate to do research. S.H.I.E.L.D needed the serum to make Hulk as a replace the green Hulk that been missing two years ago. They want the serum back but Natasha steal it while Agent Coulson busily talking to Peter Parker. Natasha and Steve threw the serum in river. Natasha said Professor McDonald get panicked when his wife was kidnapped by mafia who wanted the the serum. So he injected himself with the serum. But S.H.I.E.L.D helped to get his wife back.

Steve and Natasha send Peter back to his home. Is time to say goodbye.

“You did a very good work there Peter. I'm was surprise when you try to protect me, or else Hulk will smash me to the ground. So thank you Peter” Natasha said as she kiss him on the cheek.

“Take care of your Aunt May. Finish school, and continue helping people in need. It was nice to work with you Peter” Steve said as he hugs the teen. Peter was shocked at that. Suddenly he felt so sad to see them go. They are like his parents now. So he hugs both of them.

“Thank you for everything Captain Rogers and Miss Romanoff. I won't forget all the advice you gave me.” He looks up to both of them. They was his idol and his new family.

“You can ask anything Peter. Just give us a call.” Natasha said as she touch his face

“Good luck for you two, my parents had a fight every day; my dad regrets it after she passes away. He regrets that he never told her, that he loved her. So I hope you guys will a find a way, before it’s too late.” Peter said genuinely, he really hoped they will confess their love.

“Thank you Peter, but I'm taking this comic book with me” Steve smirk as he show him the comic book in his hand. Peter and Natasha in shocked that he found the comic apparently.

________________________________________________________________

“That's is very good advice. I learn something from him as well” Steve talks as his driving to get out of the town

“He is very young and naive, I'm surprise for how mature he was” Natasha said as she looking at the window.

“So why don't we follow his advice?” Steve said as suddenly stop and parks his car beside the bridge. They watch the sunset, the view is stunning

“What are you doing Steve?” Natasha said as Steve takes her hand to the bridge to see the river.

“Natasha, I read the comic, I don't know how they found it, how they know about our story. But I want to say the way they described me in the comic book was true. I was stubborn and also an idiot not sees that you and me.” Before Steve can finish his words. Natasha pulls him for a kiss. Natasha laughed to see his reaction. She been with him all this time, as his best friend, helping each other in need, believe in each other no matter what happen, helping him to cope with this new world, she with him at the lowest point in his life, right now even he is a war criminal. So he cannot stop his feelings anymore. Because if he didn't say now, he probably will never ever can tell her.

“I love you Tasha” Natasha shocked at his confession, because she never though he will say the words very quickly. But she shut it down immediately as Steve kissed her passionately.

Later, Steve and Natasha heading to their secret honeymoon.