#keith is dark curls

[soulvtude]

i need a vld edit to 'Dear Arkansas Daughter'

[avis-writeshq]

hello 😘 aaron hotchner drabble request!

anything with jealousy and possessiveness but in a natural normal way not a joe goldberg way haha

and also - aaron sees you wearing his hoodie/shirt drabble!

thank you and your work is amazing!

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, aaron is a little (a lot) upset warnings: misogynistic moron >:( reader wears a skirt, if you get the reference ily a/n: i wrote it and the more i wrote the more i realised that it... really isn't the same at all :( if you want me to redo it, please send me an ask !! thank you lovely <3 wc: 631

“You would think that he would know by now,” Emily hums, her tone disapproving and mostly disappointed as she watches from a distance as Captain Pembroke attempts to chat you up. 

“He’s a captain?” Spencer asks in genuine amazement. 

“For NYPD’s major crime unit,” JJ confirms, her arms crossed over her chest. “He tried to hit on Emily a couple days ago, and on Amy from the fourth floor. I wouldn’t be surprised it he has some sort of sealed file on him.”

Emily scoffs a little, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like a charmer.”

“The bigger question is, does Hotch know?” Derek pipes up as he glances in your direction.

“Well…” JJ lets out a nervous laugh. “I kind of hope he doesn’t.”

You offer a curt smile in Pembroke’s direction, doing everything in your power to subtly signal that you really should be leaving. Fiddling with the loose threads of your shirt, averting eye contact, taking tiny steps away in hopes that he’ll somehow get the message. It isn’t surprising that he doesn’t. 

“I beat my PR yesterday, you know,” he brags, flexing his muscles. You think you’re about to throw up as he continues, “129. Impressive, right, hun?”

“The average amount of pounds an untrained man can lift is 135,” you respond dismissively in an attempt to lean into Spencer’s way of getting people to leave him alone, but Pembroke doesn’t seem to hear you. 

“You know, sweets, I don’t think you should even be in this job. You’re far too foxy,” he says with a wink, “You’d be better in a different job. I mean, women aren’t fit for these types of roles. They get too emotional.”

You refrain from punching his face as it will only prove his point. “Listen, Ken–”

“It’s Keith–”

“Kyle,” you amend with a sickly smile. “I do need to get these files to Agent Rossi, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Aw, come on, it was only a joke,” Pembroke says with a laugh. “It’ll be fine–”

“There you are.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life. Aaron’s hand rests flat against your back, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt and he stands behind you. Aaron is a good couple of inches taller than Pembroke, especially when he stands at his full height, his dark eyed narrowed and his jaw clenched. 

“Did you need something from my agent, Captain?” He asks lowly. 

“Just pleasant conversation,” Pembroke responds dismissively.

Aaron raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from your uncomfortable frown to the captain’s smug face. “We have three missing women and you are disturbing an investigation by disrupting my agents. I suggest you get your act together before I report you to your superiors for harassment.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, guiding you by the small of your back towards his makeshift office in the New York Police Office. He doesn’t say a word until the door is firmly closed and the blinds are drawn. 

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, taking a step towards you and curling his fingers by your cheekbone. “I heard what he said. Do you want me to report it?”

“I’ve dealt with worse.” You don’t mean to sound so honest when you say it and his frown deepens.

“That’s not okay, honey.” Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll report it. You know how it is with cases like these; someone just has to put the first step forward.”

You smile at that, poking at his cheeks. “I thought you were going to hit him.”

“I thought you would’ve beat me to it,” he admits through a quiet laugh, giving you a proper kiss. “We shouldn’t make this into a habit.”

“Tell that to Kimberly.”

“That isn’t even close.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

events page

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

When your best-friend Steve Harrington asks you to hold his fleshlight for him.

It wasn’t really something that either of you planned on happening. But then it just did. Steve had been pent up from work all day from typical annoying patrons, smart mouthed jocks from the high school, that were freshmen when he was a senior (tenfold karma, Harrington), and Keith’s particular way of criticizing his every move out of some form of nerdy revenge. You could count on one hand the times that Steve had to bail out of your two person movie nights on Fridays (Saturdays were for dates and Sundays were for hanging with the rest of the parties and running kids around), and tonight happened to be one of those occurrences. Usually, it would be for self-care or whatever reason he needed to spend alone, but when he’d barely shed his leather jacket upon entering his house, dusting snow off of his boots — he was about to crawl out of his skin by the time his massive palm was wrapped around the receiver, thumb strangled by its cord.

He was… off? And seconds after he’d cancelled without much reason, the line went dead. You wanted to give him space, especially because he usually called back to tell you goodnight. But after being unable to sit still and finish a generous portion of the large pepperoni pizza you’d ordered the two of you, you were grabbing your keys for the journey over to his place.

~*~

It didn’t take but five minutes before you reached Steve’s house, pulling in behind his familiar car. You dangle the copy - made spare from your pointer finger, trekking your way up to the door and letting yourself in, wiping at your wind-whipped, wet eyes. You know he’s not on the first floor, its entirety dark and a little cool. So you toss your coat and keys onto the small table beside the entryway, kicking off your boots to join his on the cheesy welcome mat, and you make your way to the second floor landing to his bedroom. Seeing a buttery glow spill out from the crack in his doorway, you’d proceeded, only to be met with a sight that only appeared in your late night fantasies… and pretty much your every waking thought.

Steve is facing his mattress, sheets tousled and clothing pooled beside him, stood on the left side of his bed, naked and glistening in the perspiration of teasing, observing his massive length as he edges himself, moving the toy slowly over his cock. You know what it is, you’ve seen it in magazines and stores, in some porn. A fleshlight, they call it. Your brain goes through a million thoughts at a couple seconds to spare.

Why doesn’t he have someone here to do this with? He can get a date?

Is he okay? Obviously he’s very okay.

Holy fuck… he’s big.

Holy fuck… he’s beautiful.

A little more than usual, waiting on the summer sun to tan his freckle and mole spattered skin. His hair has grown longer, curling at the nape, his shoulder blades and biceps defined from a regular regime. And that ass, the way it flexes and is perfectly plump, connecting to those hairy thighs and big feet, his own toes curling when he twists, a wet squelch coming from the faux cunt. There’s beautiful chestnut curls scattered across him sternum and connecting to a trail that surrounds his base and those full, heavy, balls. That cock… thick, barely able to be pushed back into the toy, his fingers having to peel back its soft pink layers to help ease the slick way, decorated in a vein that matches the one running along his forearm

And you must make some sort of noise, because your lips part to let in a gasp of air, causing his body to twist in a sudden defensive stance, clenching the toy so tight with a ‘caught’ pose. You go to move and the door spills open completely, slamming back into his dresser and shaking old sports trophies. You’re panting, seeking out the words to apologize, Steve is wincing from how hard he still is, attempting to cover his modesty. But the air shifts in the room and you gain a boldness, a restlessness that won’t be satiated, nor a conscience satisfied if you don’t ask.

“Can I help you?” A customer service line from working at Scoops with him. But it comes naturally.

Steve, biting his lip, disheveled — he nods. And it’s happening. A tickling ease, a line crossed.

“C’mhere.” He’s waving with his opposite hand. His ribcage expands as he gulps in lungfuls of air.

You’re at his side shortly, shyly. “W-what do you need me to do?”

His spare hand pushes back through his hair, amber gaze gone to a midnight sky, teeth milky white, defined jawline covered in stubble, and a perfect nose. His voice is raspy when he lets you know what he needs.

“Go get on my bed, lay back for me. Please?”

A fucking gentleman.

All of your clothes feel too tight, smothering you as you lay back on his bed, his pillow immediately invading you. Your hands are unsure of where to go, but he approaches slowly, kneeling his way into kneeling by your feet. “I’m gonna… Can I use this between your legs, honey? You don’t have to do anything, just let me do all the work.” He motions to the toy and you want nothing more, suddenly offered the world.

It’s your turn to say it now. “C’mhere.”

He’s using that enriched tendon covered forearm to prop himself up beside of your head, slotting right between your knees, his remaining hand wrapped so tightly around the toy that his skin is pulled taunt over his knuckles. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, releases it, licks it, and then he’s asking, “Can I?”

“Go. Do what you need to do. I’m right here, Steve.”

If you thought the toy was loud before, the sound of him working his lengthy girth through its walls right in front of you now — it’s surround sound. You’re watching, unable to help it, bones threaten to be dusted to ash from how hard your heart is ramming beneath your breastbone.

“Wanted to come over, but it’s been a shit week, an even shitter day. And I just needed to —“

“— Release some tension, right? I get it, I do it too. I have a cock that goes… I —“ you stop your horny rambling, face feeling too much warmed.

Steve’s face scrunches, teeth gritting, and he twists the toy until slowing it almost completely. “Tell me what you do. You fuck yourself with it, right? When everything is too much and not enough? Fuck, honey.”

He doesn’t verbalize, but you don’t either, simply accept the toy and hold it against your denim covered cunt, leaving Steve’s hands free to hold on either side of you, his nose nudging yours as he leans down — here, present. You copy his earlier motions, using the toy to glide along his length as he thrusts into it with a new focussed vigor. “That’s it. You feel so good, honey. Workin’ me so right.”

“I’m soaking — fucking — wet for you, Steve. Just so you know.”

His hips stutter and his nose finds its way into your eyelashes, cheek pressing into your own. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum into this thing, and I want —“

“— You want what, Steve?” You hold your breath.

He answers without fear or pause. “You.”

// Eat me paragraph //

[fettuccin-e]

Better Than Nine to Five

hi guys i wrote this quite a while ago!! i had trouble with the beginning but, like with most things i write, the words started coming as soon as the characters started coming (get it?? get it cause like cum) but ANYWAY pls enjoy the poly!steddie content!!

Tags: Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson, established poly, dp in one hole, brief use of sex toys, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv

Steve can barely ever get off work these days. He hasn’t been as fortunate in the job market as you or Eddie; the both of you have pretty strict 9 to 5 jobs, able to sit and relax after a day at work, knowing what your schedule will be the next week, and the week after that. Steve’s schedule, at best, is random and wildly inconvenient, working late shifts almost every night and waking up the next day with you and Eddie already gone to work, alone in your shared bed.

He hates it, you and Eddie know he does, but he puts up with it, wanting to help all of you save up for a house, a pretty one that’s the exact opposite of the run-down, shitty apartment that you all live in.

You and Eddie also know, however, that Steve needs a chance to fucking relax for once. And if there’s anything you both know how to do, it’s how to make your sweet, loving Stevie let out some steam.

It’s Eddie who calls Keith and tells him to let Steve out early for the day. “He needs tomorrow off too,” Eddie says, twisting his finger around the phone cord.

“No fucking way, Munson. I’m already doing a favor for him by letting him out today, but he’s coming in tomorrow, whether he likes it or not.”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, eyes narrowed and angry, but you rip the phone from hics grasp.

“Look Keith, either you let Steve off tomorrow, or I'm going to the cops to tell them about the stash of weed you’ve got in your office. That we an smell it all throughout the damn store. And wouldn’t that just be a crying shame?” you snarl into the receiver.

“It was your freak boyfriend who sold me that shit in the first place!”

You nearly laugh at the high-pitched indignance in his voice. “Are you really gonna tell them that, Keith? Maybe I’ll also throw in the fact that they should probably look into your tax records, right? I bet there are some glaring inconsistencies, aren’t there?”

“You fucking bitc-” You hear Keith stop himself, sighing angrily. You hear a loud crash in the background just before he says, “I’ll let him off tomorrow, but you stay the fuck out of my business, you got that? I’ll-”

“Not a chance, maybe try being less of a shit person. Bye Keith!” You don’t give him a chance to respond, slamming the phone down.

Eddie watches you with wide eyes, before smirking, pupils blown and dark as he grabs your waist to pull you in for a hot, messy kiss. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad like that, baby.”

You giggle, reaching a hand up to play with his messy curls. “Gotta stand up for my boys, don’t I baby?” You step away from him, grabbing his hand to drag him to your bedroom. “C’mon, Eds, you gotta get me ready for Stevie, right?”

Eddie nearly faceplants into the carpet in his race to get to the bed.

It’s only an hour later that Steve unlocks the door to the apartment, stripping his vest off. Keith had stumbled out of his office earlier that day, mumbling something about, “go home early, Harrington, shit. Just wait till like, six or something, and you can go.” Steve had been confused, but decided not to question it, his heart galloping at the thought of spending the evening with the both of you for the first time in far too long.

Except the apartment seems almost empty when he walks in, all of the lights off and the living room and kitchen empty, devoid of both yours and Eddie’s presence. His heart drops, only for a second, thinking that he’s alone in the apartment, before he hears a loud, keening whine come from the bedroom.

Your unmistakable whine, followed by Eddie’s familiar whispered praises of “shh… baby I know, I know. It’s a lot, but I think he’s home, did you hear the door open baby? He’s gonna think you’re so pretty baby, so good, planning all this out for him.”

You answer Eddie with a choked sob, and Steve’s pants suddenly are far too tight, cock bulging almost immediately. He goes to open the door, and the sight that greets him almost makes him pass out on the spot.

You, with your hips hiked up in Eddie’s grasp, your flushed face pushed into the mattress as Eddie works his cock into you, his pretty hips slapping against your plush ass. Eddie’s head snaps over to the bedroom door, mouth pulled into a self-satisfied smirk while he keeps fucking you.

“Look, baby,” Eddie grunts, lifting his hand to give your ass a loud smack. You jerk, head turning to see what Eddie wants, and smile blearily at the sight of Steve.

“S-Stevie, you’re, ah, home,” you slur, struggling to get the words out between Eddie’s strong thrusts into your needy pussy.

Eddie watches as Steve’s eyes darken, his big hand moving down to palm at the bulge of his cock through his pants. “She’s been waiting for you, Harrington,” Eddie says, sounding almost like he isn’t fucking you stupid. “She had this all planned out, wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, uh, consider-” Steve coughs, eyes trained on Eddie disappearing into your pretty cunt over and over. “Consider me surprised baby.”

Eddie chuckles, and Steve’s eyes snap from where you both are connected. “Steve, this isn’t even the best part.”

“What?”

“C’mere,” Eddie mumbles, and you whine as he stops his thrusts. Eddie beckons Steve over with a playful finger, and Steve moves next to him, kneeling on the bed to see what Eddie thinks is so important.

Steve nearly chokes on his spit. Because there, in your dripping cunt, is a pretty blue dildo, shoved inside you right alongside Eddie’s cock.

“She wanted to take both of us today,” Eddie whispers into his ear, and Steve can hear Eddie’s smug smile. “Been working her open for the past hour, waiting for you to get home.”

Oh fuck. “Oh fuck,” Steve says, echoing his own thoughts. He smooths a hand over the soft skin of your ass, and you whimper softly.

“You like it?” you ask, almost tentatively, and Steve almost laughs at the absurdity of the question.

“Like it?” Steve says softly. His hand moves from your ass to push lightly on the base of the dildo, making you gasp sharply. “Baby, I love it. God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“You gonna take your clothes off, Harrington?” Eddie murmurs. “She’s been waiting so long for us, it seems cruel to make her wait any longer.” 

Steve follows Eddie’s vaguely concealed demand at an almost frantic speed, ripping off his shirt so fast it gets stuck on his arm for a second. He ignores Eddie’s tiny laugh. He stands off the bed to untie his shoes and shuck his pants off, his hard cock slapping harshly against his stomach. 

“C’mon baby,” Eddie whispers to you, “gotta let Stevie lay down, right? So you can sit on his pretty cock, yeah?” Eddie's mouth waters just a little at the sight of his boyfriend, hard cock glistening and hairy chest heaving. He looks fucking illegal, Eddie thinks. You nod your assent, but still whine as Eddie shuffles back, his cock slipping out of you along with the dildo, leaving you painfully empty for the first time in an hour. 

Steve follows Eddie’s instruction, laying down on the bed, while you kneel up, swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. You lean forward to brush your lips against his, smiling softly.

“Hi, Stevie,” you whisper, and he smiles back at you, curling his fingers into your hair. 

“Hi, baby,” he whispers back, before crushing his mouth to yours. He feels Eddie grab his cock, notching it up against the entrance of your pussy, and suddenly you’re sinking down, down, sucking him into your sticky walls, making all three of you moan in unison. You and Steve breathe heavily into each other’s mouths as your ass finally meets Steve’s heavy balls, buried all the way inside.

“God, fucking shit, you both are so fucking hot, Jesus,” Eddie grunts from behind you, and you both can hear the unmistakable sound of Eddie’s hand slipping up and down his cock, still sticky with your juices.

You turn, smiling softly at Eddie’s blushing face, his lips parted as he looks at you both. “Eddie,” you whisper, “You can’t cum yet. Y’gotta fuck me too, right baby?”

Eddie curses again, before kneeling behind you, just like he had been a few minutes before. ”You are a fucking minx, you know that?” He mumbles, and you would giggle if it weren’t for the blunt tip of Eddie’s cock nudging against your opening, right beside Steve.

“Ah- Oh God-d” you whine as Eddie’s fat cockhead pops into your stretched out pussy. You thought you would be prepared for it, with the dildo, but you don’t think anything could’ve prepared you for this. Eddie’s sticky cock nudging along Steve’s as he sinks deep into you, Steve’s warm hairy body beneath you, his big hands on your waist while Eddie radiates heat above you.

Steve’s not doing much better, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the feeling of Eddie’s gorgeous cock squished against his, the hot walls of your pussy strangling the both of them. Eddie’s hands are clutched into the bedsheets beside your sweaty bodies, and Steve takes his hands off your waist for just a second to grab Eddie’s hands, entwining their fingers together to hold onto your waist at the same time. You all take a minute to just breathe, allowing your pussy to adjust to the stretch of both of them.

They’re both whispering breathless praises into your ears, trying to get through to your cloudy brain. “So, so good for us, baby, taking us so good,” and “Can’t believe we’ve got you baby, you’re so pretty, so, so good for us. Y’feel so good, princess, fuck.” You can’t even discern whose voice is whose anymore, lost in a sea of pleasure and nearly-painful fullness, their cocks reaching so deep inside, pressing into every crevice of your sensitive pussy.

And then they start to move.

You try to gasp air into your empty lungs through your screams and cries of pure fucking pleasure, the both of them thrusting in tandem to bully your pretty pussy open for them again and again. Eddie’s face is nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing comforting kisses into your skin between whispers of “doing so good, princess,” and “y’feel how wide you’re stretched baby? Fuck, you’re so sexy, sweetheart, how’d we manage to land you?”

Steve’s groaning praises of his own, primal grunts of “so fucking sexy,” and “our pretty, gorgeous baby. God, can’t believe I’ve got you both,” before licking into your mouth in messy kisses.

You knew, even while planning this, that none of you were going to last long, and you’re a strange mixture of pleased and slightly disappointed to learn that you’re right. The knot in your stomach is tight, tightening and tightening as they rock into you, the overwhelming stretch of both of them keeping them pressing into your g-spot. You’re choking on your own spit as moans try to escape your throat. 

It’s going to be over far too soon, but knowing that you can take them both, that you three could do this again, makes your pussy clench, your clit throbbing. 

After only a few minutes of Steve’s and Eddie’s strong thrusts into your dripping cunt, grinding overwhelmingly against the spot that makes you sob, you reach your hands into both Steve’s and Eddie’s hair, your hips jerking uncontrollably.

“I’m gonna, oh God, I-I can’t, I’m gonna,” you gasp painfully, tears leaking down your flushed face, not even able to get the words out, before your pussy is clenching hard around both Steve and Eddie. You’re shaking like a leaf, overwhelmed and wrung dry as Steve and Eddie rub their joined hands up and down your waist.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking t-tight,” Eddie whimpers, composure fully lost. “Steve, I gotta-I gotta, gotta cum.”

Steve nods frantically, unable to form words, before he’s releasing one of Eddie’s hands to instead cup around his boyfriend’s head, dragging him down to meet his lips, licking into his mouth over your shoulder. Their hips stutter as they finally, finally cum, flooding  your dripping pussy with a mixture of both of them.

You all breathe heavily for a moment, the room feeling hazy. Like heaven, Steve thinks, this is like heaven. You know you can’t move, feeling drunk and ripped apart, but your boys know it too. They slip gently out of your used pussy, Steve moving you to his side to cuddle you into him gently. Eddie steps out for just a moment, coming back in with a warm, damp cloth.

“Baby, Eds is going to clean you up real quick, okay?” Steve whispers, and you whimper softly, nodding your head, your eyes still closed. Eddie takes the permission to wipe the sweat off your body, and clean up a little of the mess between your legs.

“Good girl, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers when he’s done, pecking you softly on your sleepy lips, before turning to give Steve a quick kiss. He throws the cloth in the hamper, knowing you would hate to make up to it laying on the floor, before laying on the other side of you, pressing himself comfortingly against your naked body. Steve reaches down to tug to the sheets over each of you, and grabs Eddie’s hand to hold, their palms resting atop your warm body.

“Shit, I’m gonna have t’call off work tomorrow,” Steve mutters into your hair.

“Don’ worry bout it,” you slur, sleep already whisking you away. “I took care of it.”

“She did,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll have to tell you about it tomorrow, she was fucking hot.”

“She always is,” Steve smiles, chest hurting with happiness and sheer, unadulterated love. “Our perfect girl.”

[violettduchess]

A/N: This year, as I deal with a far more limited amount of free time, I want to focus on writing things that really spark something for me. These headcanons, which I started almost 6 months ago, recently came roaring back into my imagination and I decided to go for it.

This is imagining how these suitors would react to their small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night.

Leon, Sariel, Jin, Keith and Gilbert

WC: 2.2 k

The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.

The hall is empty.

Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.

One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.

Leon

He is awake the moment the door opens. A light sleeper, he never fails to hear when his daughter enters your bedroom, no matter how quietly she tries to. Even now, he pushes himself up, running a hand through his cacophony of dark hair, watching his offspring step as quietly as possible as she makes her way towards the bed. She’s so concentrated on not making noise that she doesn’t notice he’s already up and watching her until she arrives at the foot of the bed.

“Papa!” Her gasp is half surprise, half disappointment when she realizes he has, as always, heard her. Leon laughs softly, the sound still rough with sleep as he motions for her to come over to his side of the bed. 

“I was trying to be extra, extra quiet.” He offers her his hand and she takes it, climbing into the bed and then into the circle of his arms where he cuddles her close. “You were, peanut. You were very quiet but your father has very, very good ears. Especially at night.” 

Perhaps someday she’ll learn why. How good hearing and light sleeping could mean the difference between life and death in the slave pens. But not tonight. Tonight she snuggles into his embrace, clutching her brown bear with his black and red cape to her chest. 

“Shall I bring you back to your bed?” He brushes several dark locks of hair that have escaped her braid away from her plump cheek, his golden eyes warm with affection. His daughter stifles a yawn. “Can I stay here tonight, with you and Mama?” 

How can he say no? “Of course.” He shifts her, tucking her in close against his side where she curls up like a kitten, warm and content. Leon sighs, his heart fuller than he ever imagined it could be, before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Sariel

He looks up from the paperwork on his lap when the bedroom door slowly opens. One glance at the clock on his nightstand and he knows exactly who dares enter his room, unannounced, in the middle of the night.

His son, hair dark as onyx, eyes as bright as violets, peeks around the door to see his father sitting up in bed, reading by the soft light of an oil lamp. 

“I see you, little one.” The child gives up stealth and hurries into his parents’ room, climbing up the foot of the bed and crawling his way across the velvety covers up to Sariel, careful not to jostle you while you are sleeping. He settles in next to his father, peering at the sheaf of papers still in his hands. “Why are you still up, Papa? It’s so late.”

Sariel glances down at his son, his lips curved in a soft shadow of a smile. “You know what? You are correct. It is very late.” He carefully removes his glasses, placing them in a safe spot on his nightstand and then sets the missives and letters and parchments beside them. He extends his arms and his son happily accepts the silent invitation, burrowing into his father’s embrace, clutching his soft, stuffed snake with the onyx eyes close to his little chest. “We’ll go to sleep together, ok Papa?”

Sariel reaches out, extinguishing the warm light and then shifts, dipping his head to press a kiss to his son’s midnight hair. “A sound plan, son.” He closes his eyes, contentment flowing through him like the soft waves of the ocean. “A very sound plan.”

Jin

He freezes, lifting his head from your neck, his large hand going still on the sensitive skin of your hip. As involved as he may be with you, he has excellent hearing and the opening of the door is as loud in its whisper as a gust of howling wind. He feels the soft huff of air against his cheek as you reign in your galloping heart. Things were just getting good.... With a groan, a mixture of disappointment and the dying embers of desire, he sits up as you adjust your nightgown and tilts his head at the small outline in the doorway.

“Yes, Princess? What is it?”

“I heard a noise. In my wardrobe. I think there’s a monster in there.” Her voice is small, almost tentative as it floats through the darkened bedroom. Jin pushes back his covers, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He reaches back, squeezing your hand, a gesture that says I’ve got this, before getting up and walking toward his daughter. "Alright little lady, let's go investigate." She slips her small hand in his, clutching her stuffed baby eagle close as they make their way back to her bedroom.

Stepping inside, she pulls her hand away from his and points to the white and lavender closet. “In there, Papa.” Her garnet-colored eyes are wide as Jin clears his throat, fixing a scowl on his face as he faces the wooden doors.

“Listen up. This is Prince Jin speaking and any and all monsters hiding in this wardrobe better leave RIGHT now or else you’ll have to answer to me!”

“Yeah!”, she adds helpfully, eyes narrowing as she glares at the wardrobe, a mirror image of her father.

Jin reaches forward and flings open one door, then the other. Inside are all her dresses and coats. Her shoes all lined up neatly along the bottom. A few stockings peek out of small drawers and her wooden training sword and shield with Jin's crest lean against the side, askew. Jin searches through the clothing, stands on his toes to check the top shelves. He makes a show of it, incredibly thorough and yet serious. Then he turns around to face his daughter. “Looks like any monsters are long gone. And they won’t be coming back.”

A smile like the dawn breaks over her face and she rushes towards him. He leans down and catches her in his arms, holding her tightly against his broad chest. “Thank you, Papa. No monster would ever be stupid enough to come back now!” 

Jin carries her back to her white four-poster bed, grinning as he lays her down amongst her fluffy pillows and pulls the soft covers up to her chest. “Nope, not when they know they have to deal with me.” He glances over his shoulder at the wardrobe. “But how about tomorrow, we go to the knights training grounds and you bring your sword and shield. We can work on your swordsmanship so any monster knows to be just as afraid of you too.”

She grins, nodding eagerly. “Good idea!”

Her enthusiasm has him returning her grin and he leans down, running a large hand over the soft chestnut of her hair. “Alright then. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow.” She snuggles down into the warmth of her blankets, stifling a yawn even as she rolls over. “I love you, Papa.” He swallows for a moment at the lump of emotion that suddenly swells his throat. “I love you too. Princess. So much.”

Keith

Little feet whisper across dark green carpeting, continuing their journey to his side of the bed. “Papa,” she whispers, tugging on his covers, her stuffed deer dangling from her grip on its antlers. Keith inhales, his handsome face frowning in his sleep as her voice cuts through the fog of dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up yet. However, his daughter is nothing but insistent. She pats his upper arm, clearing her throat and speaking again, this time louder. “Papa. Wake up.”

His golden eyes open slowly and he blinks as he returns to the here and now. The sight of her, with her ashen blond hair and your intelligent eyes, has him sitting up in bed, the last misty tendrils of dreaming vanishing like fog in the sunlight.

“Yes, darling? What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” 

She glances to your empty side of the bed. “I miss Mama.” Those words send his heart spinning, leaving a trail of ache inside his chest as he nods slowly. “I do too. But you remember how she had to go back to Rhodolite. I promise, she’ll be home again soon. Just a few more days.” He reaches for her hand, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles, marveling at the tininess of her fingers, the softness of her skin. She speaks again, her voice compressed by sadness. “I still miss her.”

He sighs as she hangs her small head, curls covering her face. Then he has an idea. Slowly he gets out of bed and leads her by the hand across the room to the heavy glass doors of the balcony off of the bedroom, his favorite place in the palace to stargaze. Keeping a secure hold of her hand, he slides open one heavy glass door and then walks with her to the large brass telescope. “Take a look in there,” he murmurs, kneeling as he adjusts the eyepiece for her. He wraps one arm around her middle, holding her close. “Can you see it?”

She leans forward slightly. “It’s blurry.” Carefully he adjusts the focuser until he hears her breath catch. “Oh it’s so pretty!” She stares through the telescope in wonder at the bright star, brilliant in its silvery-blue light. 

“That,” he says softly, almost dreamlike, “is your mother’s favorite star.” Gently he pulls her away from the telescope and points upwards. “You can see it without the telescope just there, see the three stars just in a row?” She nods emphatically. “It’s the one all the way to the right.” He pauses, resting his chin tenderly on her small shoulder. “When you miss Mama at night, like you do now, you can look up at the sky and find her favorite star. It may make you feel better.”

She turns around and wraps her arms around Keith’s neck, hugging him with all her might. “Thank you, Papa.” He hugs her close, this walking embodiment of his heart, and smiles.

Gilbert

He is already sitting up when his daughter approaches the bed, her stuffed tiger tucked under her arm. He heard the opening of the door and knew who it was immediately. No one else would ever dare to enter his bedroom in the middle of the night without fearing for their life.

“It’s past midnight, Mäuschen. Why are you wandering through the shadows?” His voice is a gentle that only you and those very close to Gilbert have ever heard. A genuine softness like the blanket of dusk as it falls over the land, the protective moon whispering as it cradles a favorite star. His daughter sighs, pushing away a stray lock of dark hair. “I’m hungry.”

He laughs quietly, his chin tilting down as he regards her. He speaks quietly, not wanting to wake you. You need rest after all, so close to the birth of your second child. He gets up, slipping on his black silk robe and then holds out his hand. She takes hold of it, wrapping her cool little fingers tightly around him and then pauses. “Wait a moment, Papa.” Turning back to the bed, she carefully places her stuffed tiger next to you where you sleep. “Watch out for Mama,” she orders sternly and doesn’t notice the bright gleam in Gilbert’s eyes as he smiles at her protective gesture. She turns, grabbing his hand and nods. “Ok Papa, fertig.” Ready.

He leads her out of the bedroom and a short walk down the hall to his office. Once inside, he walks over to his massive wooden desk, made of the finest dark walnut, and leans forward, turning on the desk lamp. He settles into his chair, into the crimson velvet cushioned seat and motions for her to join him. The Obsidian princess climbs into his lap, eyes bright as she looks at him expectantly. “Shh…this is our secret,” he murmurs, tapping his finger on the end of her nose. She grins slowly and nods. “Versprochen, Papa.” I promise. One arm holds her close as he leans down and opens a bottom drawer. Inside is a small round tin which he takes out and sets on his desk, next to the missives and parchments waiting for him come morning light.

“Go ahead,” he says encouragingly and she leans forward, carefully working the lid off with chubby fingers and then he feels her straighten up in excitement when its contents are revealed. She reaches in and pulls out a hearty oatmeal and raisin biscuit. The cookie is nearly at her lips when she pauses, thoughtfully. Shifting in his lap, she turns to face him and then holds it up. “Do you want a bite, Papa?” Her generosity has him smiling, a warmth like no other brightening his heart as he pretends to consider. “You don’t mind sharing?” She shakes her head, several loose, dark curls framing a face that is the youthful echo of yours. He leans forward and bites off a tiny corner, then leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Mama makes the best biscuits.” 

She bites into the same cookie with much less restraint and then smiles, chewing happily. “Mm hm.” She leans back against his chest and he wraps his arms around her as she continues munching. “Just this one and then it's back to bed with you, little mouse.” She nods, mouth too full to answer and focus far too lost in the pleasure of her treat to respond verbally. Gilbert sighs, turning to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He is utterly and completely at peace.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381

For Leon content: @leonscape

For Gilbert and Leon: @ozalysss

For Keith: @drewadoodle-dandy

[scummy-writes]

One More Round

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Keith/Reader

Words: 2326

Tags: Some Size Kink, Creampies, (light) Overstimulation, Oral (reader receiving), Reader has She/her pronouns and vagina

Summary: It's a pleasure between the two of you to spend each night that you can entangled in each other's arms, but it doesn't always end with just one side of him fulfilling his desires.

For @portrait-ninja! Thank you so much for the support!

In the dark of night, pleasure suffused the air in Keith’s bedroom. Labored breaths left your sore lips as one hand twisted the sheets beneath your fingers, the other tangling in Keith’s messy gray curls as his tongue continued its relentless lapping along your lower folds. Each long lick had you squirming, yet Keith gently held your hips down, keeping you firmly in place as he tasted your juices again and again, his mind too enamored with the flavor.

After hours lost in paperwork, helping others, and research that sapped away time, it was difficult hiding the desires ebbing within the two of you day after day. Playing up a false narrative for the sake of unspoken politeness was exhausting. Once confessing that your needs matched his, longing for blissful nights tangled within each other, Keith had been eager to comply and indulge. Now, leaving yourself at the mercy of his wide tongue and skillful hands had become a nightly routine, leaving you breathless and thankful for voicing your desires.

“A-ah!”

Once more, your back arched as he guided you ever closer to your peak, thighs resting on his broad shoulders and trying desperately not to clench against his head. Yet your writhing form didn’t deter Keith. No, it seemed to only spur him on as he switched to suckling gently on your clit again, using his free hand to tease your entrance, testing just how welcoming you were.

You squirmed at the sensation of his thick index finger easing its way inside, exploring your inner walls with a care you rarely gave yourself.

“Mmmore, please-!”

“Patience,” he murmured, kissing your tender bud.

Slowly, he dragged his thick digit out before pushing it back in, beginning a careful rhythm despite your whines for more. It was only when your nails dug into his scalp that he blessed you with another finger, your walls clenching so tightly around him that he groaned.

“Ready?”

You nodded frantically, but Keith stopped his tongue.

“I want to hear you…”

Gentle, always gentle, so much so that it almost sounded like a desperate plea. This man that could easily tower over you was begging between your legs for mere words.

“I want you,” you gasp out, rolling your hips to meet his fingers faster, “please, I'm ready, I can handle it, please-”

The words died on your tongue, transformed into a moan as Keith ramps up the pace of his fingers, pumping them harder at a tempo that has you seeing stars. This time, your legs do clamp onto either side of his head, nudging his nose deeper into your curls as he suckles your clit with a renowned fervor. His mouth stays firmly against your wet sex as you writhe once more. After the slow build up of ecstasy he walked you through, the pleasure makes your head spin as it hits its peak, orgasm causing your legs to shake- yet Keith presses on, lapping up every drop of your essence that you’re willing to part with and gift to his waiting tongue.

Keith only stops when your whines make it through to him, overstimulation of your swollen clit causing tears to prickle at your eyes. His head lifts then, illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the window.

It gives your bleary eyes a proper view of your lover, half of his form bathed in the pale light, your juices coating his chin. It’s there, in the dead of night, that you feel as though you see the  rare beast in his eyes, looking at you with a renewed hunger.

When he blinks, however, his eyes skip away from yours, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Another easily recognizable trait- his shyness, catching up to him. His worry seeping in, noting how embarrassed you could get over how wet you became with him, over your stamina being less than his own.

Sitting up, you coaxed his gaze back to you with your hands on his cheeks, dragging him into another kiss. It’s with that movement that your gentle giant melts back into you, his concerns ebbing away as you pull him back to the bed. With each meeting of your lips, Keith found himself unable to bear the seconds between them, slipping his hand behind your head to keep you in place as he greedily took your breath away.

His other hand easily grasps your leg, pulling your hips flush against his, wordlessly encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. You eagerly comply, the stretch to accommodate his sturdy frame feeling comforting. The moment your legs lock around him, Keith rolls his hips against yours, his length rubbing between the folds of your pussy. Each rub has the head of his cock brushing against your clit, and a thrill of excitement buzzes through you at the sensation, lips breaking apart from one another as moans slip out unbidden.

It’s moments like these, where you can see the hunger etched across his features, that you’re thankful for your lover and his attentiveness. He knows how to prep you well, how to give so much focus to your pleasure, so that he can enjoy himself to the fullest as well.

“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to hold back-”

“I can take it, I promise.”

He looks apologetic, but his hand still moves between your bodies, guiding the tip of his cock against your opening.

And…Well, you could take it, but your breath always stilled at the sensation, your legs subconsciously tightening around his hips as his engorged head slowly slipped inside of you, the ridge of his dick making your toes curl as it pushed through. Keith, caring Keith, was losing more of his control as he inched his way inside, his brows furrowing together as he groaned.

“Always…So warm for me…”

His name is a keen on your lips, and it spurred him further, his grip firm on your hips as he sinks  the rest of his cock inside of you in one movement.

“Gods-” The groan that leaves his lungs does nothing but spike your arousal, and you’re suddenly aware of just how sensitive you still are from earlier. Even with him giving you time to adjust to his girth, shivers of pleasure run over your skin- you’re not going to last long this time.

It goes unnoticed by Keith, who is sliding his cock out just far enough to where his tip still remains inside of you, then snaps his hips back against yours. Crying out wasn’t enough, no, the second he starts up a steady pace, your nails are at his shoulders, etching in the words you can’t speak into his skin. 

“Ah, you’re sucking me in- ngh!”

The pain doesn’t deter Keith in the slightest, too enamored with the way your walls coax him further with each powerful thrust, losing himself to the pleasure you’re blessing him with. Now, his hands slide up your thighs, impulse taking over him as he grasps under your knees, pushing until he’s able to comfortably pin you down like this- knees to your chest, as he uses the leverage to fuck deeper into you.

Fuck words, you’re too busy trying not to scream as Keith continues, the intensity of his thrusts causing the bedframe to shake, rattling against the wall and surely leaving scuffs. Biting your lip, knowing how your mewls were slipping out regardless, you tried desperately to grasp onto any bit of him you could, your next orgasm approaching fast with Keith’s nonstop pounding.

It's a wonder you manage to muffle the sounds of pleasure overtaking you. Your legs strain as he continues to hold you in place, pumping himself into you with near reckless abandon. 

Keith, sweet Keith, can't help himself. He's so focused on chasing his pleasure, on losing himself to the feel of your pussy begging to squeeze him dry, that he doesn't fully register that you've cumed and that you're being overstimulated further with each thrust he delivers.

Instead, he murmurs your name fervently, mixed with words of love, of encouragement, of “yes”.

When he cums, it's after he pushes himself as far into your depths as he can manage, pouring his love into you with a groan. 

He lingers, breath ragged. It seems to take everything inside of him to pull out of your warm cunt, letting your legs finally hit the mattress. You’re so focused on regaining your clarity that you nearly miss the sensation of his cum seeping out of you. Until you catch a view of his face, and how he’s unable to tear his gaze away from the sight.

.

Keith was restrained in public, and undoubtedly shy, but after sex he wasn’t as demure as he could be. His confidence was secure in the moment, too full of your love to question himself just yet.

So his firm kisses to your jaw, in the warmth provided by the cascading water of the shower the two of you were in, moving to the back of your neck… The crook of your shoulder… They weren’t a shock, but a nice surprise as you let out a pleased sigh, happy to be pampered even more.

However, when teeth came into play- pressed against your skin, nipping enough to leave a mark, that was the first sign you had.

Followed by hands caging you against the shower wall.

No, your timid lover had slipped away again. Lost to another part of his mind, a more impatient one. 

His broad chest pressed against your back as he crowded you, the rumble of his low chuckle intoxicating to hear.

“‘Bout time the two of you finished,” his thick length rubbed against your ass as he spoke, excitement causing it to stand erect once more, “are you ready for my turn, little flower?”

Were you?

You didn’t get a chance to speak before he tipped your chin up, leaning over to capture your lips between his. Even though it was the same body stealing kisses, it felt so different from what you had just experienced. Soft lips were rough against your own, demanding your attention with the intensity of each kiss.

It was difficult to break apart, but once he seemed satisfied enough at the taste of you, you managed, “I’m pretty tired, so I won’t last long-”

“Mmm, that’s what the wall is for.”

With a smirk, Keith pinned your hands against the wall in front of you, his hands engulfing yours quite easily. As you readied yourself, head swimming at his tall body flush against yours, you felt the head of his cock rub against your pussy, a breathy laugh slipping out.

“Tired, huh? You’re so wet for me though.”

“Well that’s- mph!”

There was no warning as his length pushed into you, a heady moan escaping you as your inner walls eagerly clenched around him once more.

“Mm, feel that? Feel how your cunt is sucking me in already?”

That tantalizing drawl against your ears alighted your skin once more, but the way the tile walls seemed to carry the sounds had your head spinning. His body still pressed firmly against yours, letting you feel every ridge of his muscles, the way he towered over your figure. You felt so small like this, and Keith knew it. 

His hand slipped between your thighs, swiping circles around your swollen nub and chuckling at the way you jolted initially. But the longer he continued, still resting his cock deep inside, you felt that build up of pleasure again, and your legs trembled.

“He really did a number on you this time, huh?” Teeth nibbled at your ear, drawing out whimpers from your sore lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya steady.”

Finally, his wandering fingers left your clit alone. The small reprieve of delicious torment was pleasant, until his hands moved to your hips, grabbing firmly and keeping your pelvis a step away from the wall.

“Can’t be as nice as he would be, but I’ll make it quick so you can rest,” he murmured, planting a chaste kiss to your shoulder, “tell me if it’s too much.”

At your nod, Keith pulled his hips back to let his cock slide halfway out of you, before driving it back in hard. From that moment, you firmly planted your hands against the wall, a gasp leaving you- until his next thrust was just as powerful, his hips snapping at a pace you weren’t mentally prepared for.

You can’t help it, each time he pounds his cock inside of you, you’re having to lean more of your weight against the wall to keep some lucidity, but the tiles betray you again. Each slap of wet skin seems to reverberate due to the walls, your own lewd mewls and groans echoing in your head, aiding in the bliss overwhelming your body. If it wasn’t for Keith keeping your lower half steady, your trembling legs wouldn’t be able to keep you standing.

“A-ah, you’re clampin’ down real tight. Wanna milk me for all I’m worth, huh?” With his breathy words, Keith begins to trade the speed of his thrusts for depth, slowing down to make each pump of his cock hard enough to shake you, “just a little longer, flower, I’ll give it to ya.”

Another snap of his hips, and you're curling your toes, crying out as he keeps pushing past your own orgasm. And each rough thrust after that, he’s murmuring encouragement to you, commending you for continuing to take him again and again, until finally with one last thrust, his warm seed spills inside of you, taking both of your breath away.

Just as before, he lingers, but remains lucid enough to continue his exhausted praise, peppering it across your shoulders and neck.

And just as before, when he finally pulls his girth out of your tired pussy, you can feel the remnants of your night together, dripping out once more.

As said before, this is a fanfic for @portrait-ninja. She requested what to be included, as well as reviewed it to make sure it was to her liking. I do not want to hear any critisms, as this was completely written for her.

I am happy to have an actual Keith fanfic out now!! I feel guilty, I really do enjoy Keith, but my other favorites occupy my brain and inspo a lot more. This may be because I am always satisfied with the Keef-tent (keith content) that I run into? They've explored everything I wanted to do with him and more, haha!

This was a fun piece to write! I hope everyone enjoys it, thank you for reading!

Taglist (Sign-up form here!): @m-mmiy @ridiculouslly-ridiculous @xbalayage @bubblexly @queengiuliettafirstlady @yarnnerdally @keithsandwich @nightghoul381 @skoetiepoetie @katriniac @redsky-morning (wahh it won't let me tag you!)

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[autisticlancemcclain]

The air in his apartment is getting staler, and his scalp is starting to ache.

Everything is going to fail, he thinks to himself, unhelpfully. He doesn’t have time to correct himself because he has time for nothing. He barely has time to breathe. People will be coming in less that two hours, and he’s only just begun decorating; at this rate people will arrive and everything will look barren and horrible and boring and of course no one will say it to his face but he can hear how muttered conversations will go on the way home, how everyone will think he’s —

The front doorknob rattles. Lance gasps, a great, heaving breath forcing its way in and out of his lungs, realizing for the first time his hands are trembling too much to hang the tinsel correctly.

“Lance?” calls a voice, familiar and soft and raspy from years of cigarette smoke. “You in the kitchen?”

Lance finds himself frozen in place. His mind has gone completely blank, and he’s become a statue; thoughtless, still, unblinking, unable to process. As if someone has hooked him up to a remote and pressed pause.

Quiet sounds of boots unlacing echo the empty apartment, followed by socked footsteps. Keith appears round the bend of the front hallway, eyebrows knit together in concern, lips pursed.

“…Lance.”

“Everything is falling apart,” Lance blurts. He twitches suddenly, stiff muscles spasming, and the sudden movement rocks the rickety footstool under him. Quick hands flit out to grip his arms before he falls, steadying him on the ground with a soft, “Woah, dude.”

For several moments the only sound is the synched billowing of their breathing. Keith’s hands slide down his biceps to rest on his elbows, squeezing gently. Slowly, dragging through molasses, Lance’s heart begins to slow.

“You’re freaking out,” Keith says. “There is no need to freak out. Take a breather.”

“I don’t have time for any of this,” Lance says, heartbeat picking up again. “I barely finished the last of the food fifteen minutes ago, decorations aren’t out yet, there’s flour all over my clothes and my face is a mess and I haven’t washed my hair —”

Darting out faster than Lance can track, Keith’s hands come to rest on Lance’s cheeks, thumbs brushing under his eyes — rough, warm, startling. Lance stares at him with wide eyes. Keith smiles back, quickly, widely, crookedly; breathtaking. His hair is twisted back neatly, thick and gorgeous, and festive red sparkles line his eyes. Pretty red stones glitter in his ears to match. The gold bands of his thumb rings are cool against Lance’s cheeks, and the chain he got from his mother rests delicately over black knit fabric. The high-cut neckline of his sweater compliments his frame nicely. His jeans are the only pair he has without rips — a pair Lance forced him to get last time they were shopping together.

The air punches right out of Lance’s lungs, and the last of his worries with it. Keith tucks a curl behind his ear, lingering.

“Go shower and get dressed,” he urges, indigo eyes dark and imploring. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Lance breathes. He doesn’t move.

Keith smiles. He pulls Lance’s face down at the same time that he stands up on his tiptoes, eyes fluttering shut. Their lips press together softly, one, two, three, and then he pulls away.

Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat. His fingers come up to brush the swell of his lip. “What was that for?”

Keith’s eyes flick up at the doorway. Amusement dances across his expression.

Mistletoe, green and white and fragrant, hangs delicately from the door frame.

“Oh,” says Lance, flushing. He remembers, abruptly, the stepladder and falling into Keith’s arms. He becomes hyperaware of the bareness of the rest of the apartment, hardly lived in one month.

“Lance,” Keith says again, noticing the shift in his expression. He slides a hand down and pats his hip. “Go, you walking mess of anxiety. I got this. Get fixed up. Everything will be fine.”

Lance closes his eyes, exhaling shakily, and nods. It’s too late, now. Whether or not things get finished is irrelevant — he can’t very well host a Christmas party in sweatpants and his grossest, most threadbare hoodie. Whatever Keith can manage while he showers will have to be enough.

He rushes off to his room, tearing off his clothes the second the door locks behind him, practically throwing himself under the stream without bothering to wait for it to heat. He rushes through his routine faster than he maybe ever has in his life, toweling off so roughly the first two layers of his skin go with it, and buzzing around his closet like a horde of wasps on a field of decaying grapes.

There is Nothing to wear. Because of course there isn’t. The outfit he’d picked last night suddenly seems inadequate, and most of his other stuff is still boxed up, so he doesn’t even have the time to go digging. Eventually he just throws on what he’d planned and tells himself to get over it.

Forty-five minutes have passed, by the time he steps out of his bedroom, and the state of his apartment makes him gasp.

String lights are hung delicately along the walls and wrapped around his small tree. Ornaments and decorations sit artistically on every surface, as if each placement was deliberated and perfected. Paper snowflakes, even, that Lance had made in a fit of procrastination to avoid work weeks ago, are hung from the ceiling. Keith stands on the same footstool Lance tumbled from earlier, hanging a few more.

“Keith,” Lance chokes out. “Oh my God.”

His friend shoots him a grin. “What, surprised? I told you I’d handle it. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” Lance swallows as the words come out on reflex, heavier than he’d ever usually let them. “I just.” He looks pointedly away from where Keith stretches his arms above him, thin paper held delicately between his thick fingers, sweater raising to show a strip of pale skin. “I appreciate it, is all. Turns out you do have some taste, Mullet.”

“Asshole,” Keith huffs.

But he’s smiling.

They spend the next twenty minutes in comfortable silence, putting up the last of the decorations and plating up the last of the food. Lance doesn’t need to say, I should have asked for help from the beginning. Doesn’t need to say, I’ve missed being close to everyone, being a real adult is hard, finally finishing school and growing into a new phase of adulthood, away from all the people I’ve grown up with, is hard. I had to prove I’m handling it. Doesn’t bother admitting, I couldn’t have done it on my own. Thank you for knowing me enough to come even if I couldn’t ask.

Keith brushes his hand on the small of his back as he walks by. Lance smiles, shy and pleased, and sinks into the comfort of Keith knowing, of Keith knowing him; of the proof of their familiarity despite all the new changes. He sighs, long and silent and heavy, something settling in his bones.

When the doorbell rings, and the rest of his friends start pouring in, he’s ready for them.

———

Hours later his giggly and red-cheeked and a little bit tipsy. Pidge brought bottles of liquor and Allura brought novelty shot glasses, and the rest of that story wrote itself. Lance lost count somewhere between Hunk slicing up the honeyed ham he brought and Shiro busting out the Twister. Cheesy Christmas songs have been looping for hours on Veronica’s CD player, and the air smells of plátanos a sweet-smelling incense Adam pulled out, and Lance is drunk on more than just the booze.

“The place looks great!” shouts Shiro, not particularly because it’s loud in here. He looks pretty red-cheeked, too, glass of wine tucked protectively to his chest. Adam watched him in amusement, arms half-raised in preparation for his clumsiness.

“Keith helped,” Lance admits, just as loud. Their shouted conversation draws teasing glances from the rest of their friends, but for once Lance isn’t self-conscious of the stares on him.

They’re drunk. It’s Christmas. Who cares?

“Speaking of, where is Keith?”

Lance frowns. He blinks some of the dizziness out of his eyes — he truly needs to stop walking around, there was way more rum in that daiquiri than he thought, typical Matt — and scans the crowd of people shoved into his tiny apartment. He would recognize that mullet anywhere and from any angle, and it is not currently among the masses.

“Hm,” he says out loud, and wobbles off.

The first place he checks is his bedroom. It’s locked, but he knows Keith can pick a lock and also has no qualms about picking the lock for Lance’s bedroom, because he was raised by wolves. He’s not in there, though, so Lance pivots to checking the bathroom — occupied by Kinkade and Rizavi who are busy sucking face — and the weird little linen closet tucked in a random alcove, which is empty. Keith is, strangely, nowhere to be found, but he couldn’t’ve just — left, right? He would have said goodbye.

Lance pouts. He hopes he would have, because Lance’s emotions are Compromised right now, okay, and if he gets sad he’s going to get sad for real. And Keith leaving just like that will, indeed, make him sad as shit.

“I need t’clear my head,” he mumbles to himself. He pushes through the tight circle Allura, Pidge, and Veronica have formed — he does not want to know, it might be actual witchcraft knowing them — to make his way to Hunk, tugging on his sleeve to pull his attention away from Shay.

“‘M gonna go get air.”

“Don’t die,” Hunks says. Lance nods, moving to stumble away, but Hunk grabs his sleeve and tugs him back. “No, wait, drink this, buddy. Else you’re going to walk into a wall and we’re going to end up in the ER on Christmas again.”

Lance dutifully chugs the three separate glasses of water Hunk hands him, realizing suddenly that he’s parched. By the end of them and also a banana Hunk has him eat, his head has miraculously stopped spinning.

“Hunk,” he says in total seriousness, “I love you. Deeply. From the bottom of my soul.”

Hunk rolls his eyes fondly and presses a kiss to the top of Lance’s head. “I know, you doofus. Begone.”

Lance snickers and heeds his command. As he closes the apartment door behind him, shutting out the noise with it, he breathes a huge sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he’d been getting, as much as he’d been having fun.

He understands, immediately, where Keith has gone. He huffs a smile.

“Goober,” he says around a smile, and jogs to the stairwell.

———

A sobering seven flights later, he pushes open the door to the roof, panting breaths turning to steam in the frosty air.

“You are elusive, you fucker.”

Keith looks over his shoulder, smiling in that quick way he does. “And you’re tipsy.”

“Nuh uh! Hunk made me drink water!”

“Right, and that undoes the six shots you took when Pidge dared you.”

“Obviously.”

Keith laughs, a little, and Lance preens like he’s won the whole lottery. Keith most definitely notices. Lance can’t bring himself to care.

“C’mon, let’s sit somewhere not so close to the edge. Knowing your shit luck you’ll go careening over the edge and I’ll have to jump after your dumb ass.”

Ignoring how that makes his heart pound, Lance shoots back, “That wouldn’t solve anything, stupid, we’d just both be dead.”

“A very Merry Christmas to us both, then.”

Keith finally finds a spot on the ground that’s mostly clear of snow and only a little wet. He plops himself down. Lance grimaces, looking down at his expensive and shimmery black slacks before sitting down beside him.

“You good?” Lance asks after a moment.

Keith lets out a breath. “Yeah, it was just getting to be a lot in there.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re basically a cat in human form. Surprised you didn’t bite anyone on your way out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Keith looks over, eyebrows raised. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“That was very transparent, you know.”

Lance shrugs, not bothering to hide his own smile.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me. Not my fault I’m thinking about it.”

“You think I kissed you to shut you up?”

“A little.”

Keith holds his gaze, challenging. Lance crosses his eyes. Keith snorts, punching him in the shoulder.

Heh. Success.

“I didn’t kiss you to shut you up, you goober. I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“…Did you maybe want to again?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn for his smile to turn shy, for a slight flush to rise on his cheeks. Lance’s own cheeks hurt from grinning.

“No mistletoe up here. Not sure I have an excuse this time.”

“Aha, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Lance digs in his pockets until he finds the little sprig, plucked from when he and Hunk were caught under the doorway sometime after shot number five. He holds it up between them.

Keith’s smile grows. “You really are a genuine actual goober.”

“You seem to like it,” Lance says cheekily.

“It’s fine, I guess. If I had to live with it.”

“Mhm.” Keith’s hand has snaked its way around Lance’s neck. Lance’s own hands are planted firmly on the ground between them, keeping him balanced as he leans closer, closer, closer. “Is that the case.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, and then he doesn’t bother with anything else, closing the distance between them. “Merry Christmas.”

Lance sighs into his mouth, tilting his head as their mouths move, as Keith’s long eyelashes tickle his cheek. Merry Christmas, indeed.

———

based on this art by @mothmanavenue

[jiveyuncle]

*knocks the whole jar of angst into the soup* 😀

“It’s weird.” Lance says, voice coming out quiet and strained. “I came here thinking that if I saw you, it would make things better. Kinda reassure me that the things that happen in my dreams are just dreams - and it does, but it also kinda confirms that everything is real, too. You-“ Lance’s breath hitches, and his fingers curl just a bit tighter at the back of Keith’s neck. “You died. I saw it happen. This body that you have now is proof of that - but touching you, holding you? It’s also confirmation that you’re still here. That you’re not dead now.”

The longer Lance talks, the more his body finds a way to make contact with Keith’s, nose to collarbone, chest to stomach, legs twining. Lance is shifting to take up more and more of Keith’s space, asking. And Keith keeps giving, offering, letting. He’s not sure what all Lance wants, but Keith’s ready to give it to him.

“And I don’t know if that makes me pissed or hurt sometimes, or if it just makes me guardiansdamn relieved,” Lance confesses. His shuddering breaths and wet sniff cut through the dark of the room. “I don’t know if me being glad you’re here- if me needing this makes me a horrible person.”

Fic: Sure and Indelible on AO3.

You can read it here:

[oh-stars]

Out of Sync

Love is wanting to do everything with someone, even if its nothing special.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1311 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

---

It’s as if the universe is actively working against him right now. Keith was out sick, so Steve had to take on more during his shifts on top of covering the shifts they didn’t work together. And then, Keith’s return lined up with Robin’s family vacation, so he had to cover her shifts too. He’s less bitter about covering for her, at least, but that’s not the point. Working two weeks straight, with his usual six hour shifts turning into clopen after clopen – it’s like he’s living at Family Video. 

That’s not even the worst of it, really. Steve likes the extra money and working through Robin’s time off is always a good distraction from her being gone. The problem is Eddie’s working at the plant with Wayne now and he’s temporarily on Wayne’s shifts while a coworker is out on worker’s comp, so they’re all out of sync. It works great for Eddie’s schedule, lets him go to his physical therapy appointments he’s still doing and hang out with the kids and Steve usually, but not so great for Steve’s current predicament. 

It’s been a month since they’ve had one-on-one time and Steve feels like he’s losing it. 

Eddie’s shift change was a nightmare to get used to at first, and it didn’t help that Steve’s parents were in town so they couldn’t really see one another. Not when Steve had to pretend he still lived at the Harringtons rather than the trailer (Eddie had yet to ask, but if Wayne’s comments are anything to go by, it’s all but official). Then the Keith thing, now Robin’s out, and Steve’s just tired of seeing him in passing or when they bring one another lunch sometimes. 

He doesn’t mind losing a bit of sleep to go eat “lunch” with Eddie at two in the morning. It’s nice, being able to just sit with Eddie in his car as Eddie eats the sandwich Steve made him with one hand and holds Steve’s with the other. They’re hidden in the dark of the late hour, safe in his car to be themselves, but neither are up for much conversation. Steve’s usually half asleep and Eddie’s trying to eat as much as possible to get him through the rest of his shift, too sore from working to really engage. Still much better than when Eddie pops in to bring his lunch at Family Video, where they can’t even hang out some days when Keith’s being a dick about non-employees in the break room or Eddie lingering at the counter “scaring” customers away. It’s usually a drop off and a quick hug situation. 

Steve just misses him and he knows Eddie misses him too. 

But they endure and the second Robin is back, Keith approves of Steve having a few days off in a row. Steve thinks it has more to do with corporate seeing an employee working for three weeks straight rather than Keith having a heart, but he’ll take what he can get. 

Which means when Eddie comes shuffling into his (read: their) bedroom, eyes already closed and his belt undone, pants unzipped, Steve can help him into bed and take his time with him. He helps Eddie undress enough to be comfortable and makes sure he’s content laying down, then spends a bit of extra time massaging his back. He gets to enjoy feeling Eddie melt for him under his palms, to take his fill and look at him without worrying about the clock. They don’t say much, Eddie barely conscious as he grunts and moans as the knots in his back and the tightness in his skin are worked out, eased by Steve’s touch. The most he says is a mumbled, “Thank you, baby,” when Steve leans down to kiss his neck after a particularly painful knot.  

And when Eddie falls asleep, Steve gets to curl back up with him. He doesn’t care if he actually gets to sleep, just luxuriates in Eddie’s warmth and the lack of responsibility for the day, stuck in that early morning haze.  

They wake up a few hours later, when Eddie’s alarm goes off.

“You’re still here,” Eddie says, brow furrowed and frowning. 

Steve chuckles. “Keith gave me three days off,” he says. 

He watches as Eddie processes the information, concern turning into a shit-eating grin. It’s the only warning he gets before Eddie tackles him, hands in his hair as he kisses him. They don’t get out of bed for a while, too preoccupied with revisiting one another’s bodies and reacquainting themselves. 

When they do finally emerge, Wayne’s pulling on his shoes. “What are you two thinking about for dinner?” 

Eddie shrugs, yawning as he fixes their coffee. “Whatever works for me. Just not sloppy Joe’s again.” 

“That ain’t much help,” Wayne huffs. He turns to Steve. “You goin’ to be here for dinner?” 

Steve nods as he takes the mug Eddie offers him. “If you’ll have me.” 

“Like you ain’t always welcome,” Wayne says, shaking his head. “You got an opinion on food?” 

“No sir.” 

“You boys aren’t any help,” Wayne grumbles. “Can’t buy shit for dinner if none of us know what we want.” He’s grabbing his coat and keys as he speaks, walking around the small living space as he gets ready. 

Eddie shakes out his hair, eyes more alert. “Wait, it’s my turn to go to the store,” Eddie says. 

Wayne waves him off. “I’m not blind, boy. You two have barely seen one another in a minute now and I can’t take any more of your whining. You’ll get the next time.” 

“No,” Eddie protests, setting down his mug, “I’ve got this. You should resting–” 

Steve’s brow furrows. “What happened?” 

Wayne starts to grumble about nothing as Eddie turns to him with a scared look in his eye despite the serious expression. “His back is acting up. He says it's just a pinched nerve but I don’t think he should be risking anything.” He turns back to Wayne. “Go sit down. I’ll go to the store.” 

Eddie doesn’t give anyone time to say anything before he heads back to the room. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Wayne says as he shrugs off his coat. “I didn’t mean to mess up your day.”

Steve tilts his head. “You didn’t mess up anything. You should try to rest before your shift tonight.” 

Wayne sighs as he sinks into his chair, face contorting in pain with the movements. 

It doesn’t take much for Steve to head back into the bedroom in search of fresh clothes, his wallet, and Eddie’s keys. He meets Eddie at the bathroom, slipping inside to brush his teeth and try to figure something out with his hair. 

“Why are you dressed?” Eddie asks as he wipes the toothpaste off his mouth. 

“I’m going with you.”

Eddie shakes his head and puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “No. It’s your first day off in ages. Go rest.” 

Steve takes Eddie’s wrists in his hands and pulls them off his shoulders. “I just want to spend the day with you, no matter what we’re doing.” He leans forward to kiss his cheek. “And I’ve got your keys so either I’m going or none of us are eating tonight,” he whispers, lips brushing against Eddie’s ear. 

He laughs, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and pulling him in for a proper kiss. “I love you, you know that?” 

“I love you, too.” 

“What do you say to grabbing lunch before we go to the store? Make a date out of it?” 

“Greasy diner food and grocery shopping,” Steve says with a laugh, “you sure know how to woo a man, Eds.” 

Eddie winks. “Someone has to compete with the Harrington charm.” 

Steve pulls away and tugs Eddie out of the bathroom. “C’mon. Quicker we leave, quicker we come back and can go back to bed.”

---

Thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing this story!

Ao3 Link

[wolven91]

Red Flags

It wasn’t a word, so much a general shout that came from Keith’s mouth. His intention was to distract and get attention from the burly slaver, despite a healthy sense of self preservation telling him to keep hiding. 

He succeeded, the canid turned it’s head, spittle being flung from its bared teeth. The sight of its curled snout, v’s of flesh and short fur bringing forth the memories of rabid dogs and dangerous hunters. 

It leapt forward at him, but when Keith turned to run, his legs moved slowly, like he was wading through a waist high bog. 

He felt the claws dig into his back, slaicing him up, causing him to flinch and desperately try to arc himself to pull away. 

That was when he woke up. 

He didn’t sit bolt upright or break out in a sweat or wake gasping. 

Instead he laid there and let out a breath he was apparently holding. He reached underneath him and found one of his headphones had stuck itself to his lower back. The man grimaced as he put it on the bed side table with the other he retrieved from his ear. 

Two days ago, there had been a slaver attack. 

Since then his sleep was spotty at best, interspaced with dreams. It wasn’t always about the attack itself. Sometimes he was left behind somewhere, and no matter what he was always a second late to catch up with everyone else. 

Or he was being chased.

Or he was being hunted.

Keith sighed, still underneath the blanket. Anxiety dreams. 

The latest dream was the most vivid. He life, or at the very least his freedom had been saved thanks to a fik. The fik had launched itself at the canid slaver that was sniffing out his hiding place. But canid verses fik  in a one on one wasn’t a fair fight, so Keith had jumped up from behind a crate and shouted to get the canid’s attention. 

That was all the fik needed to jump over the creature’s head wrench the wolf-like alien’s head up and back down in a horrid, wet and loud ‘snap’. 

The fik, a massive brute, touched a clawed hand to her chest then had slunked away, the last thing Keith saw was the tip of her tail, but her smell; clean sawdust, lingered. The guards for the station found him only moments later. They said no fiks were on board the station and Keith ‘hysteria’ had caused him to imagine a saviour after he came upon the body. 

Keith sighed again, breathing in through his nose and intending to breath out through his mouth, trying to calm himself. He wasn’t due in work, but he felt lousy due to the poor sleep he’d been having. 

His eyes opened in the dark and sniffed again. 

Fresh sawdust. 

He glanced round the dark room. He was in secure quarters, moreso than before. A canid security team had become is honour guard and shadow. They occupied both the rooms above, below and each side of his. He was safe, no way anyone could get in without them knowing. 

But the shadows made strange shapes in the gloom. 

He had a pile of laundry on the back of chair, it looked like a geckin in the dark. 

He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into his bed and tried to calm himself. It was ‘just’ PTSD probably he tried to explain to himself. Just a panic attack, just a friendly old panic attack. You got this, calm down. 

“Calm down..” He whispered, barely audible to himself. “You’re safe. No one’s here. No one is going to hurt you…” He words were starting to toe the line of desperate in tone when the new voice spoke. 

“Wouldn’t allow it… Saaah…”

Keith’s eyes shot open, but he remained perfectly still. 

“Tk tk tk… Breathe?”

Keith remained still. He had no way of getting help besides screaming at the top of his voice. Would they even hear him?!

Something heavy landed on the bed. He was laying on his side, but could feel two points either side of him pulling the duvet tight. He stayed perfectly still, not daring it breathe at all. 

It straddled him, it was heavy and pushed his hips down into the large mattress until two large, padded and clawed hands grasped his head to gently, but surely turn him to face upwards. 

The brutish fik. Blood pounded in Keith’s ears, he couldn’t hear anything over it.

“Hai! If Hek tells you to breathe; Sah! You breathe!” She ordered, almost hissing. 

It was enough to snap Keith out of it, being told what to do and his mouth opened to gulp in much needed oxygen. One breath turned into two, then three. 

The fik released his face, but didn’t get off him. Keith slumped onto his back and stared up at her in the dark. The other day she had been in metal armour, studded with bolts and screws that gave her a ‘Mad Max’ vibe. 

Now it was all dark bandages that left nothing to the imagination. She had held herself wit the stereotypical fik hunch, but was still tall; tall enough to go toe to toe with a canid and hold them off. 

Without another word, she laid down ontop of Keith, forcing the air out of his lungs as her shoulders and head pressed him into the mattress, forcing him onto his back.

“W-what…?”

“Hai… Sleeping time. No talking.”

“You’re in my room?”

“Haai?” She drew out the word as if it was obvious.

“You’re not going to hurt me? Kidnap me?”

This got her head to raise back up, she was scowling. 

“Blackened night and creeping death; no.”

“Then why?”

She sighed and tilted her head. 

“Saah… You are not… Clever… Hai, very well. Yes yes.” She cleared her throat and almost began before reaching a clawed finger up towards Keith’s face. It touched his forehead and pressed forward. 

He hadn’t realised he’d raised his head and shoulders off the bed, but the relentless force of the finger pushed him back down into the pillows. 

“Stay.” She ordered. “Hek, that is me; yes yes?”

“You’re ‘Hek’?”

“Hai. Good boy. Hek was on station when attack, yes? Hek protect you, you protect Hek. Hek decide to watch over for time.”

“O-okay? But-” A clawed finger returned to press against his lips.

“Ah! Hek talking. Hek reward if good.”

Keith went quiet and the giant interloper continued. 

“Hek see Keeeeeith… No rest. Sleep bad. Yes.” She hissed in a negative fashion. “Unacceptable. Hek decide to help.”

“H-how?”

“Hek has seen this before. Terrible fight makes ghosts… spirits that haunt mind, yes? There is cure.”

“What’s the cure?”

“This.”

“What? What’s ‘this’?”

A sigh and the heavy body that pinned Keith squeezed him.

“Two guard, even if spirits slip within, two versus one is better, yes yes? Now. Sleep.”

Keith opened his mouth to speek but the finger returned.

“Hek willing to… ah… choke? Yes, choke you out… Speak no. Ah, no speak. Yes. Sleep.”

Keith blinked and went quiet, turning the situation over in his head. This fik had broken into his home and thrown herself on top of him. Yes she’d saved him, but this was more than a few red flags, this was the whole damn parade of the red army!

That was his last thought before he opened his eyes and it was mid-morning. 

He’d slept and not only that, other than being dehydrated, he felt… rested. 

The fik; was nowhere to be seen. Was it a dream? 

He touched his hand to the duvet, it was messy but no overt evidence. Until his leant down and sniffed it. Clean sawdust. 

“You’re here… aren’t you?” He mumbled, a touch over a whisper. 

“Hai.” Came a voice. He couldn’t tell where from. 

“I could call out.” He mentioned, turning at looking around the room. She was tall and broad, where the hell could she hide!?

“Hai.”

The threat was left dangling there… 

She was dangerous, it was stupid not to involve his guards… But… it WAS good sleep…

[r/WolvensStories]

[AO3]

[Ko-Fi]

[loviestyless]

Bloodied Shadows*

summary: when harry is looking for inspiration for his next novel, he stumbles across a house with a sinister past and well, you know what they say - curiosity killed the cat.

inspired by american horror story’s murder house

warnings: themes of horror, blood, violence, murder, smut: mxm pairing, choking, hand job, sub!harry

i wrote this for halloween last year and really loved writing something darker than i usually do so felt like sharing it here too. Hope you enjoy!

The misty moors of the English countryside rolled past the window in an endless sea of autumnal browns against the dark grey sky looming above. A distant chill clawed against the taxi window, threatening to clasp its grip around the curious man watching the world go by. There was not a single soul around except for the silent man in the driver's seat - the promise of solitude growing ever closer the further out of town they ventured.

A deep sigh breathed past Harry's lips as he ran his ringed fingers through his unruly curls, phone pressed against his ear as he reluctantly listened to his manager reminding him of the clauses in the contract he'd signed last year.

"We agreed you'll have the first draft on my desk by the end of this month and you've decided to take a little trip out of town?" Keith's unimpressed voice filtered through the phone, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "You don't have time for dirty weekends away with your girlfriend, Harry."

The man forced himself to bite back the scoff threatening to rumble from the back of his throat at his manager's words, knowing it would do nothing to get him back in Keith's good graces. Glancing at the empty seat next to him, Harry forced himself to find the humour in his manager's assumption to avoid the overwhelming stress of knocking out the first few chapters of his novel overnight. If Keith had bothered to check his emails, he would have known Harry was using this escape to the countryside to search for inspiration. It was purely work related and he was fairly confident that by the end of the night, he'd have a solid plan to break through this current bout of writer's block.

"I promise, first thing tomorrow morning the draft will be in your inbox." He grumbled; his tone almost bored as Keith continued to rattle on without even acknowledging what Harry had said.

"If you needed extra time, you should have told me sooner. Maybe then I could've negotiated something with your publisher. I can't work miracles, Harry. This only works if you communicate-"

A dull tone cut off Keith in the middle of his lecture and with a quick glance at his screen, Harry quickly discovered there was no longer any signal.

Outside, the stretches of rolling fields had changed into one singular stretch of road surrounded by the confinement of a never-ending line of decayed trees shedding their orange leaves. Harry supposed it was a blessing being so isolated from the outside world, he could focus on meeting his deadline without the constant distraction of his phone ringing every five minutes.

The screeching of the car's brakes caught the writer's attention as they slowed to a complete stop in the middle of nowhere. A frown creased his brows as he peered out the window at the stretch of misty grey land outside, wondering what had caused such an unexpected stop in their journey. The google maps tab open on Harry's phone said he was still ten minutes from his intended destination.

"This is where the road ends, you'll have to go the rest of the way by foot."

"Y'know, this is like every stereotype in every horror movie ever made, right?" Harry scoffed rudely, folding his arms across his chest as he threw the driver an unimpressed stare in the rear-view mirror. He'd heard the rumours about where he was going but they were so ridiculous he didn't expect anyone to actually believe them. "Let me guess, you're about to warn me I'm in grave danger and it's not too late to turn back."

"Selly House is no joke, mate. Every unsolved murder in the area has been linked to that place, nobody that goes in comes out alive." The driver warned, genuine fear present in his gaze as he took in the scepticism lacing Harry's features.

"Yeah whatever." The writer sighed, knowing there was no use trying to argue. He'd seen enough horror films to know he'd end up flat on his ass in the middle of the road with his bags at his feet while the driver sped off in the opposite direction as fast as he could. "How much do I owe you?"

Minutes later, Harry was pulling his puffer jacket tighter around his body as the cold threatened to steal the air right from his lungs while he continued to sort out his bags the driver had dumped on the floor. The rumble of an engine speeding away echoed in the distance, mingling with the sharp cries of the crows flying overhead. If Harry was the type to read into things, he would be unnerved by the lack of civilization around him, but luckily this was the exact kind of solitude he was seeking for his novel.

Already his mind was running havoc with ideas simply from his surroundings, and his shoulders loosened with relief as he felt ready to start writing. Weeks of staring at an empty notebook had left him drained, pushing him further into a slump that had him convinced his whole career was a mistake - that the success of his previous novel had been a fluke.

But the fresh air biting at his skin, causing his cheeks to flush pink, snapped him back into reality. Made his creativity come alive again. And this was before he'd even stepped a foot past the threshold of the infamous murder house that lay dormant a couple of miles down the road.

When researching potential places that could inspire a dark storyline for his latest thriller, Selly House had popped up on Google too many times for the writer to ignore. Spending an entire evening delving into the history of the house led Harry down a path seeped in murder, unsolved crimes and mysterious disappearances. Centuries of ghost stories, rumours of shadows dancing in the dark and whispers of temptation drawing unsuspecting guests through the doors lit the flame of curiosity in Harry's mind.

He had never believed in ghosts, ghouls and so-called unexplainable events. Horror movies were predictable and Halloween was just another excuse for retail companies to make a shit tonne of money. It was an ironic mindset for someone who had spent the past year making money off writing a chilling horror novel but it was something he was good at even if he felt it was all a bunch of nonsense. Anything to pay the bills...

Naturally, once the writer had heard the stories, read the newspaper reports, he was intrigued. He needed to know what elements of this house sparked such fear in the local community and made it so famous. Once he discovered the roots of these childish ghost tales that haunted the town of Selly, Harry had the perfect setting for his own novel.

And what better time to get a feel of the place than Halloween night.

His plan was fool proof. Nobody dared go within five miles of the house so he would be able to sneak in undetected, nose about the decrepit ruins for a bit before settling down by the dim light of his torch to spend all night completing a draft of the first few chapters. It would be silent and he could finally get some work done without his phone constantly ringing, demanding his attention.

Heaving his backpack over his shoulder, Harry let out a quiet sigh as he began trudging his way down the road in the direction google maps pointed him. He scoffed to himself as he noticed the road he was currently on led directly up to the driveway of the house with no sign of it abruptly ending like the driver had implied.

Not a single soul was around, all that accompanied Harry on his walk were the echoes of his own footsteps and the crows squawking up above, seemingly following him in his journey. Misty rain was suddenly upon the man, dampening his curls and making him pull the hood of his jumper over his head to protect himself from the weather.

"Fucking English weather." He grumbled to himself, wiping his phone screen against his jeans in an attempt to clear the little drops of water making it difficult to see the map.

Bringing it back out in front of him, the screen was completely black. Tapping it gently, the writer hoped to wake it back up again but was left staring at his own reflection on the blank screen. Rolling his eyes, he tried pressing the side button but had no success.

If he hadn't had a full battery upon stepping out the taxi, he would've assumed his phone was just dead. But there was nothing to explain why it had suddenly stopped working.

Cursing to himself he angrily shoved the useless device back into his coat pocket, hoping he'd be able to fix it once he got to his destination. However, in his own arrogance when looking into the house, he'd failed to note the accounts of all modern technology suddenly rendered useless around the house.

With nothing but his own company, Harry began to hum to himself, hoping to pass the boring walk a little quicker. The shadow of a tall, gothic building loomed prominent against the deep grey sky, serving as a guide for Harry to follow. Even from a distance it wasn't hard to recognise what struck such fear among those in the area.

Despite spending almost half a century abandoned, Selly House looked just as new as it had the day the building had been completed. There were no signs of disrepair, no overgrown ivy snaking up the stone walls and the front gardens were all properly cared for. The sight alone made Harry stop dead in his tracks, confusion knitting his brows together as he muttered his thoughts under his breath.

Surely this was the right place?

Glancing behind him briefly, the man tried to gauge his surroundings. It made no sense.

There was not a single soul that would dare enter the grounds of Selly House, not since the gruesome murder-suicide that had taken place fifty years ago on this exact date. After decades of murders and disappearances linked to those who lived in the house, the deaths of Ethel and Rowan Montague had shaken the community so deeply that the town council had agreed to never let the house be put back up for sale again.

In that time, you would expect the outside to at least appear a little weathered, especially with the number of storms this part of the countryside faced.

A crow squawked above, feathers fluttering as it swooped close enough to Harry to make him flinch before landing atop the iron gates. Its yellow eyes stared at him, unmoving as if waiting for Harry to take another step forward. Daring him to enter the grounds.

The writer shook his head, snickering to himself slightly at how cliche this all seemed and the fact he had for a split second briefly entertained the idea of turning back around.

He was getting too inside his head about this, it was a house that had an infamous past - of course it was going to be a little unnerving. But he knew that when planning this trip. He wasn't coming for a relaxing weekend away; he was coming to be scared. For the house to prove itself to him so could use that material for his own personal gain.

Suck it up, buttercup.

Taking a deep breath in, Harry willed himself forward, up to the gates and over threshold. He almost laughed when nothing happened, no voices emerged from the shadows, no brutal murderers ran at him with a bloody axe. He was fucking fine. In fact, he was almost bored by the lack of excitement.

All those stories warning him not to come here, all those tales of gruesome incidents and the only demon to greet him was his own imagination running away with him. Kind of pathetic when you think about it.

Now that he stood in the middle of the driveway, Harry could properly take in the details of his surroundings.

The front garden itself was split between both sides of the cobbled driveway leading directly to the house. A fresh lawn on either side carried tiny droplets of dew from the unpleasant weather, lined by borders of neatly trimmed back hedges going slightly orange with the changing seasons. It was simple but upheld the elegance of the plot of land - emphasised by the grandeur of the house looming like a shadow in the dark. The exterior looked like it had stepped straight out of a Victorian gothic novel with pointed arch windows, a steeply pitched roof and made from dark grey stone. If someone would have told Harry this was the place Dracula had lived, he would have believed them.

Harry's mind had become a wildfire of inspiration, sparked alight by the hundreds of avenues that he could take his novel. Any inkling of doubt Harry had about this place had evaporated into thin air, leaving a level of curious excitement in its wake.

Wasting no time, Harry hurried up the stretching driveway, his eyes flitting about the expanse of land in a desperate attempt to commit every tiny detail to memory. That was until he was struck speechless by the line of stone statues guarding the front of the house - seven gothic angels, their bodies and facial features contorted in various states of pain, each one more severe than the last as if depicting a story. Or perhaps serving as a warning. A warning of what might happen if one dared to venture further.

Whatever the meaning, Harry was captivated. They were the only parts of the house that appeared to age with speckles of moss clinging to the podiums and chipped elements only seeming to add to the decay each angel held within themselves.

The wooden porch creaked under Harry's step as he approached the front doors and he was just about to turn the doorknob to enter when he became aware of a weird cracking sound echoing in the still silence smothering the surrounding land. Clearing his throat, Harry slowly turned to look behind him with a frown. His heart skipped a beat as he was suddenly faced with all seven angels staring directly at him, their tortured expressions now directed in his direction as if he was the one inflicting such suffering upon them.

They hadn't been looking this way before. Harry knew that for certain. The writer swallowed thickly as he willed his racing heart to calm down. It was just an overused trick he'd seen in horror movies - similar to those paintings with eyes that seemed to follow you across the room. His creative mind was running away with him, that's all.

Suck it up, buttercup. Just a little closer...

"You must be losing your damn mind." He muttered to himself, shaking his head slightly in disbelief that he was allowing himself to grow so unsettled when he didn't believe in the supernatural. It was all bullshit, he had allowed the rumours of the house to run rampant in his mind, causing logic to get entangled with fictional fantasies. "Get a hold of yourself."

Rusted hinges creaked loudly as Harry finally pushed the oak front door open, the stale, musky scent of the house hit him almost immediately and made him cough a little as it caught him by surprise. Even though the house hadn't fallen into disrepair in the decades it had remained empty, the entire place felt as if it was frozen in time with the interior design steeped in grand decor of the early nineteen-hundreds.

Harry couldn't help but gape in awe at what surrounded him: velvet wallpaper, crystal chandeliers, golden trims and polished mahogany floors. It was as if he had stepped onto the set of a costume drama and he could feel himself growing impatient to start exploring. Judging by the size of the place, he could easily spend all night nosing about the numerous rooms instead of writing but he couldn't allow himself to forget the reason he came here.

Darkness had closed in around the house by the time Harry had finished searching for inspiration around the house and was feeling more than ready to churn out a couple of chapters. However, he was a little disappointed he had found nothing out of the ordinary in his search. No headless bodies in the kitchen, no ghosts creeping down the hallways, no bloody handprints smeared along the windows. All there had been half melted candles, family paintings, children's toys and moth-eaten clothes.

It had been a little disappointing but Harry had expected it. He knew the stories were made up, exaggerated over time to scare kids at night to stop them from getting too curious.

But at least his brain was almost bursting with new story ideas.

It had been an hour since he'd set up camp in the old library upstairs with his camping lantern as the only source of light in the gloomy room. The desk had a thick layer of dust covering it but it didn't bother Harry, it only served to create a more gothic atmosphere surrounded by all the shelves of leather-bound books as he frantically scribbled his thoughts down on paper.

Time seemed to pass differently in the house, slipping out of Harry's grasp before he knew it as he allowed himself to be entirely consumed by his work. Every glance at his watch would give him a different time, sometimes ten minutes would have passed since he'd last looked, other times it would have been hours. The only constant he knew was the night sky barely visible through the fogged-up library window.

The glass panels rattled slightly as the wind picked up outside, whistling through the slight gaps in the window panes. With the weather picking up, Harry knew to expect some strange noises to echo about the place as it was expected for things to go bump in older houses such as this one.

What he didn't expect was for the simultaneous slamming of all the upstairs doors to shake the house the way it did, causing him to jump out of his skin and make his heart start pounding in his chest. Dropping his pen in the desk, Harry's head whipped around to look behind him, his hands shaking slightly as adrenaline started to course through his bloodstream.

A small draught flowing through the house couldn't have made such a noise. But Harry refused to let it rattle his nerves. He knew there was a reasonable explanation for everything and it was possible there could be undiscovered disrepair where the wind was entering from.

Another rumble reverberated deep within one of the bedrooms and Harry couldn't ignore the voice in the back of his mind calling for him to check it out. It sounded like something had fallen over and the last thing he wanted was to be blamed for wrecking the place when he'd been minding his own business the whole night.

His legs felt heavy as he hoisted himself out of the library chair, clutching his lantern in his clammy hand as he forced every step forward and out of the room. Heavy, anxious breaths rattled in his chest as he gave in to the fear stroking its claws at his brain, a rising nausea settling as an uncomfortable lump in the back of his throat.

The hallway was steeped in shadows crawling through every crack and crevice waiting to pounce on Harry when he least expected it. The little light from his lantern did little to protect him from the monsters lurking around every corner, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Floorboards creaked underfoot as he peeked down the hallway, making Harry shut his eyes briefly to steady his nerves. His chest rose and fell as he made a conscious effort to slow his breathing, a hand placed lightly over his chest to feel when his heartbeat had slowed back to normal. Everything was fine and just as he'd last seen it. All that had changed were the bedroom doors were now closed.

He was still alone. Alone...

He was fine. He was safe. And he was alone.

Any resolve he'd managed to tackle over his emotions went flying out the back of his mind the moment his eyes fluttered back open only to be met with his own green orbs staring back at him from the other end of the dark hallway. But they weren't his. They were an exact copy, darkened with something Harry couldn't quite put his finger on.

A sinister smirk glinted in the limited flecks of light reaching that far, making a chill run-down Harry's spine. Shadows obscured the figure's face but Harry had looked in the mirror enough times over the years to recognise his reflection when he saw it.

What the fuck was going on?

All logic flew out the window as he moved on his own accord, his brain barely processing the movement before Harry was running towards himself - desperate for answers. But his double seemed to predict every move a second before Harry reacted, gliding towards the master bedroom and vanishing into thin air before the writer could catch him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Harry yelled in fear, his words trembling as he frantically threw open the bedroom door after the mysterious figure. Beams of light spilled into the room, illuminating a path for Harry to search for answers. His chest was heaving once more, as the man was on the verge of hyperventilating. "W-what do you want?"

Raising the lantern in his hand, Harry searched high and low in every single corner possible for any sign that what he had just seen was real.

Look at the little lamb, all lost and scared of the dark.

Let me comfort you, come to me buttercup. Let me save you.

Coming up short for an explanation, Harry was left with no choice but to return to the library - notably more shaken than when he'd left.

Goosebumps had risen against his inked skin now that he had been set permanently on edge, his tired mind allowing him to fall into the trap of believing the superstitions every logical part of him fought to disprove. But he had seen himself. He had seen himself walking away and disappearing through a closed door. It wasn't a reflection, there were no mirrors except from in the bathroom.

Wind howled menacingly on outside, whipping the onslaught of rain against the glass window panes. Thick drips leaked through the gaps, soaking into the wallpaper as it streamed down the walls and began to pool on the mahogany desk below. With every passing second, the puddle continued to grow and Harry cursed under his breath as he hurried to salvage the hours of work scribbled on the pages.

Trembling hands scooped up the sodden pages, beams of light fading slightly as the lantern toppled to his feet. It was impossible to see what he was doing as the shadows creeped closer, scraping their talons impatiently along the walls as they waited for their chance to engulf the man at his most vulnerable.

Harry's hands had become soaked with the thick liquid as he struggled to save his things before they were ruined, small drips falling from a crack in the ceiling and sliding down his face from where it landed in his messy curls. A horrid metallic stench suddenly flooded Harry's senses, his nose wrinkling in disgust as it suddenly dawned on him that something wasn't quite right.

Rain water didn't ooze from crevices the way this was and it certainly didn't reek of stale death that made you nauseous. Papers fluttered to the ground as Harry allowed them to slide from his grip, raising his palms in front of his face to confirm what he already suspected.

Crimson blood tainted his pale skin, smeared along his wrists and stained his cheeks as it clung to him like a disease. His stomach lurched as he remained rooted to the spot in horror, more blood pouring in through the ceiling faster than ever. Drenched in blood, Harry could no longer deny that this house wasn't normal - all logical reasoning was disproven before the thoughts even entered his mind. Intense nausea forced him to snap into action, dashing through the long hallway towards the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

Crashing through the door, Harry flung himself to the sink. His shoulders heaved forwards as his body worked to get rid of the contents of his stomach. Blood smeared against the pale porcelain as he gripped the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. Sweat clung to his forehead as shaky breaths rattled his lungs, petrified sobs echoing about the bathroom as Harry felt himself descend into madness.

His eyes flitted up to the cracked mirror, hoping to convince himself that this was all in his head. That somehow this was just one big nightmare and he wasn't here soaked in stranger's blood that rained down from cracks in the roof.

But what he saw was so much worse, rattling him to his very core.

Alongside his own pale features staring back at him, another form approached from the shadows from behind.

A muffled yelp escaped his lips as he whipped around to face the shadow smirking at his fear with amusement. The form stalked closer like a cat watching its prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce and feed from his emotions without a single remorse.

Trapped in place, Harry could feel the edge of the sink digging uncomfortably against his back as tried to keep his distance. Wary eyes never left the figure as it stepped into the beam of moonlight streaming through the tiny window, transforming the menacing shadow into one of the most attractive men Harry had ever seen.

Brown eyes, broad shoulders and slicked back hair stole the breath from Harry's lungs.

"Shhhh...don't fret, buttercup." A silky-smooth voice breezed through the air, making Harry's heart skip a beat as he got wrapped up in the sexual haze wrapping around him. He greeted it willingly, a sense of familiarity within this situation calmed his racing heart and a warm blur fizzled in his mind - making him forget of all the fear the night had instilled deep inside himself. "I'm here now."

Entranced in the man's beauty, Harry's legs moved of their own accord and carried him into the light - close enough for the nameless beauty to brush his index finger over his blood-stained cheek. Brown eyes met green and Harry tumbled willingly into the stranger's spell.

Only, this wasn't a stranger. No, Harry knew this man, had felt this man's passions before. His heart leaped in his chest as a sense of deja vu washed over him like a cool wave on a summer's evening, lips curling upwards as he greeted a long-lost lover.

"Rowan." He whispered into the small space between them, his voice wavering with emotion as he leaned into the man's delicate touch.

"I missed the sound of my name from those pretty lips." Rowan breathed out a chuckle, wasting no time in pressing his lips against Harry's with such passion that he had to grip Harry's waist to keep him from staggering backwards. Hot, frenzied kisses were exchanged, breaths shared and soft moans filled the air as Harry's hands found their way to Rowan's hair, smearing thick blood through the strands as he tugged harshly.

Their bodies were flushed together in a matter of seconds, Rowan's strong form walking Harry backwards so he was pressed against the bathroom counter once more. This time, however, there was not a single inkling of fear present in Harry's mind - completely overshadowed by the whirlwind of lust controlling his every action.

The kiss grew more frenzied, more desperate as Rowan asserted his dominance over his lover with Harry willing to do anything if it meant eliciting more of those delicious moans from the man towering above him. Adventurous hands explored the man's broad shoulders, venturing south to trail down the expanse of Rowan's toned torso over the soft material of his silk shirt.

Harry could feel the amused smirk against the skin of his neck as Rowan's sloppy kisses made his breath catch in the back of his throat, their blown pupils meeting briefly in a shared glance - a silent question of consent present in the slight twitch in Rowan's brows.

"Is this real?" Harry was breathless, fighting through the pleasure lingering in his bloodstream as Rowan's intoxicating presence loosened its grip around his heart a little. Peering up at the man through his lashes had Rowan rolling his head back with a stifled groan.

"You tell me, buttercup." His voice was thick with lust, causing a wave of arousal to rush straight to Harry's cock, half hard in his trousers and begging for attention. "Does this feel real?"

Before Harry knew it, Rowan was pushing his hips roughly against his own so he could feel his bulge, ready and waiting to pleasure him once he was given the green light. A low moan sounded from deep within Harry's chest, the feeling of Rowan's hardness rubbing against his own made his head swim in the most delightful way.

"Y-yes." He panted, flopping his head forward to lean against Rowan's toned chest.

"Then don't overthink it." Rowan purred in Harry's ear, strong hands gripping the side of his hips as he took control again. "Turn around, hands on the counter."

His waist bumped against the porcelain sink as Rowan roughly spun him into the position he wanted, tightly fisting his curls in one hand and yanking them so Harry had no choice but to stare at his reflection in the mirror.

He looked utterly wrecked already and he had barely been touched, crimson blood smeared across his face, lips swollen and pupils blown as he met Rowan's intense stare in their reflection. His lips were painted red from the dark blood that had been transferred from their heated kiss but the blood only turned Harry on more. It promised all the mess and dirty passion he was craving.

Rowan's bloodstained hands slowly snaked their way around Harry's neck, his darkened gaze lapping up every subtle flicker of emotion across Harry's face.

"You gonna let me touch you now?"

Harry's eyes fluttered shut momentarily as he nodded eagerly, a low chuckle from behind making his hips buck against the counter in search of some kind of release. Warm hands cupped his arousal through the material of his trousers, applying just enough pressure to make his head spin.

"Words, buttercup." Rowan's words slipped from his tongue, filled with such lust that Harry couldn't help but let out a quiet moan. His green eyes locked onto the reflection of Rowan's fingers toying with the zipper of his trousers, a devilish smirk across his lips as he purposely took his time to tease Harry.

"Please...fuck me, Rowan." He whined, his palm sliding over Rowan's pleading him to do anything to burst the building bubble of lust that was making him feel crazy. To touch him, to kiss him. To just fucking pleasure him.

Sweat dripped down his forehead as he continued to get worked up, his body falling against Rowan's strong body as his hips worked on their own accord, circling with Rowan's gentle teasing to work out some of the tension rolling through his body. Quiet gasps and frantic whimpers filled the air like music to Rowan's ears as he watched Harry grow frustrated at his failed attempts to pleasure himself against his hand.

"What's wrong, puppy?" He taunted, blood red lips pouting against Harry's ear as his sinister stare taunted the man through the mirror. "Pants a little tight?"

"P-please, I'll be good." Harry's words were breathy and light as he grew lightheaded under Rowan's intense stare. The red blood smeared all over his body from where he was pressed up tightly against Harry's writhing body only emphasised his devilish act, turning Harry on to no end as his mind played over a dozen different ways this night might end. "I'll be a good boy for you."

Danger loomed somewhere distant in the back of his mind but it did nothing to scare him. It only made him hornier, more desperate to feel Rowan exert his claim over his body however he wanted.

The bloodied grasp on his neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to add to the intense level of pleasure stole all of Harry's attention. His blown pupils couldn't focus on anything else.

"What do you need me to do, pup? Tell me."

"Anything! Please, just touch me. I need it, I need you!" Close to tears, Harry's eyes fell shut as his head began to swim, too many sensations flowing through his bloodstream to even blurt out exactly what he needed. He'd take anything at this point as long as he got to cum soon. "I'm being good for you, please!"

The only response was Rowan tugging at Harry's curls to snap his attention back to the mirror, a pointed look warning him to do exactly as he was told in order to earn what he was begging for.

"Eyes on me, pup or I stop. Got it?" He purred seductively, wasting no time in finally unzipping Harry's trousers and pulling his hard length out, a bead of precum collecting at the tip in anticipation of Rowan's full attention.

But just as Harry thought he finally thought he was going to finally touch him; Rowan brought his hand up to his lips.

"Spit." He demanded, and Harry obeyed without a single hesitation. "Good boy."

His cock twitched at the praise, instant relief enveloping him as Rowan finally wrapped his hand around Harry's arousal, slowly stroking his length with calculated movements. Pure bliss overtook Harry's features, his brows tugged together in pleasure as his lips parted to let out a loud moan.

"F-fuck." He groaned, his hips thrusting upwards to aid Rowan in his actions, his hands gripping Rowan's hair in a silent plea for him to continue kissing along his jawline. "More."

Rowan didn't have to be told twice, his tongue licking a stripe along the sharp edge of Harry's jawline, savouring the sweet metallic taste of the blood tainting his flushed skin. The muscles in his arm rippled under the flowy material of his shirt as he continued to tug at Harry's length, flicking his wrist ever so slightly to make sure he smeared the blurts of precum along the tip.

Waves of pleasure ebbed and flowed through Harry's entire body, making his legs grow weak enough that Rowan's strong body had to shift slightly in order to keep him standing upright. Heaving chest and sweaty curls, blood began to slide down Harry's forehead again as he felt himself rapidly reaching the edge already.

The grip against his neck tightened even more to the point Harry expected to have bruises where Rowan's fingers dug into his skin but he didn't care. It made his head grow even lighter, pleasure swimming through his brain and made every sensation he felt in the pit of his stomach intensify by the second.

Harder and harder Rowan's hand clamped the tender flesh, restricting the air that tried to enter his lungs. Harry watched as the man's eyes grew impossibly darker, something switching in his demeanour slightly that had his guard flying up. Something was wrong.

His chest felt heavy as he struggled for breath, eyes widening in fear as he noticed Rowan's other hand was no longer pleasing him, instead moving at a rapid speed to lock his arm where he was grabbing at his throat. The muscles in his biceps locked tighter than his hand was able to and cut off the air Harry desperately tried to suck into his lungs.

Panic overloaded his brain where pleasure once blurred his judgement. Adrenaline made his heart race, something that only seemed to urge Rowan on.

"Your heartbeat sings for me, buttercup. Isn't it beautiful?" He whispered darkly, tightening his iron grip even more as Harry's hands clawed desperately for some kind of relief.

Eyes wide and body jolting with fear, frenzied attempts to escape only made Rowan chuckle. His vision began to grow blurry as his brain was deprived of oxygen, tired eyes struggling to stay focused on the reflection of Rowan's sinister shadow overpowering. Any attempt in escaping, he realised, was pointless.

This man wasn't human, he had known that the moment he'd fallen for his intoxicating spell. He'd walked blindly into the trap set out for him since he'd entered the house hours ago. He was going to die here. His name would be added to the long list of victims Selly House had claimed as its own, his own arrogance being the cause of his downfall.

Shhh..buttercup, don't be scared. It's time to return home.

His limbs went still as the darkness creeped in around him, the last few seconds of consciousness slipping from his grasp faster than he could fight back. Before he knew it black consumed him and he gave himself over to Rowan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A cold breeze whipped around Harry as he stood in the middle of the road, the silence of the woods around him providing the peace he needed to collect his thoughts. The decaying petals of old flower arrangements fluttered away, joining the swirls of orange leaves scattered across the floor.

Sad eyes stared at the dead flowers - old memories from loved ones that had moved on with their lives while he remained eternally trapped on the other side, just out of their reach. His mother's handwriting stood prominent on the letter attached to the freshest bouquet, one that appeared at this spot every year to mark the anniversary of her son's passing.

Harry read her heartfelt words over in his mind, clinging on to her hope that he was in a better place.

"I thought I'd find you out here." A gentle voice approached cautiously, making Harry turn to greet his lover with a smile. Rowan stood behind him, brown eyes mirroring Harry's sorrow as he understood the pain flowing through his heart. It had been fifty years since his own passing but it never got easier watching someone like Harry come to terms with their own death - especially one that was so brutal.

Even now, Rowan couldn't look Ethel in the eye. Her jealous rage in seeing her husband fall in love with the innocent man who had stumbled upon the house had triggered a psychotic rage within her. She'd spent hours torturing Harry's mind, making him see disturbing things, chasing him about the house until eventually causing him to trip down the stairs and tumble to his demise - all while Rowan watched, trapped in the shadows Ethel had confined him to.

Overcome with emotions, Harry allowed Rowan to wrap his arms around him with a comforting warmth that battled the autumnal weather making him shiver slightly. Laying his head against his lover's chest, he allowed the sound of Rowan's heart to ground him, calming him from such a draining night.

"I forgot again, didn't I?" He sighed, feeling Rowan's soft touch playing with his messy curls.

"Sometimes it takes a while to process a traumatic death. You're lucky it was me that found you, I doubt Ethel would have been so quick to save you."

Harry knew Rowan was right, Ethel would have savoured every moment of his pain before eventually putting him out of his misery. She took pleasure in watching him play out the day he died, trapped in the vicious cycle until his mind finally accepted he was eternally trapped in the afterlife, living among the other countless victims the house had claimed that hid in the shadows.

"I suppose you had to kill me."

"It's the only thing that brings you back, buttercup. But I think you're starting to remember things now; you gave in to me pretty quickly this time."

At Rowan's smugness, Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes fondly. He should have known all that would play on his lover's mind were the intimate moments they always shared before Harry's death, all in an attempt to avoid discussing how it felt to murder his lover over and over again.

He knew Rowan couldn't help the darkness that clouded his mind when it came to murder. The house had taken its claim on his mind, just like it eventually would on Harry's.

There was no escaping Selly house, not even in death.

But Harry would gladly give in to whatever was in store for him if it meant an eternity in Rowan's arms. An eternity with his lover.

[bluemantics]

hii, do you have any fantasy fic recs?? (btw i loved midnight snacks don't exist in space!!)

OMG thank you so much!! sometimes i forget people actually read the stuff i post lmfao <3

Here are some fantasy fic recs!

1. Take my hand (we’ll dive into the sea) by noblegambit

Mermaid AU | T+ | 5.3K

A mer has four gifts for humanity.

The tear of a mermaid gifts strength. The scale of a mermaid gifts invulnerability. The kiss of a mermaid gifts breath underwater. The heart of a mermaid gifts long life. If one possess all four? No one knows, for no one has ever possessed the heart of a mermaid.

2. til we meet the dawn by angstinspace

Knight AU | T+ | 75K

Keith is a mage and Lance is a knight, and they've been best friends since childhood. For years, Keith has known that Lance carries a dark secret: that if he doesn't kiss his true love before he turns twenty, he'll die.

Now only three days remain before Lance's twentieth birthday, and Keith and Lance are sent on a dangerous quest to rescue Romelle––who Lance believes will be the one to break his curse. ... But what he doesn't know is that Keith is already hopelessly in love with him.

3. I have crossed the horizon to find you by somethingmorecreative

Mage/Familiar AU | M | 36K

onight, The Wicked Nightshade was filled with a vibrant crowd, rowdy, loud, and buzzing in excitement at what was to come.

The Bonding was tomorrow, and New Altea was ready for it.

Keith Kogane, on the other hand, was not.

4. you build your tower (but call me home) by parchmints

Curse AU | T+ | 63K

In the land of Arus, the youngest Nalquodian prince—Prince Leandro—is hidden away in a little castle that overlooks the kingdom; a countermeasure to protect him from the Galran assassins that have sworn to take his life.

And in the tallest tower of the castle, behind a grimy rose window and under a dusty sheet, is an enchanting gargoyle that the prince finds himself compelled to visit every day.

Almost as if by a spell...

5. a warlock and a djinni fall into a rift by bwyn

Urban Fantasy AU | G | 6.2K

“You planning on explaining what’s going on here?” Keith returns, thankfully now standing so that he’s blocking some of the sun in Lance’s eyes. “Or were you just going to leave again? Without warning? Without contact?”

Lance smiles as though the words aren't a punch to his gut. Really, he should’ve predicted this, but…

“Could you at least let me sit up? My head isn’t busting through dimensions, right?”

Keith’s lip curls, but he waves a finger tipped purple with ink, and Lance feels the chains slide free from his neck, arms and chest.

6. breathless by zxrysky

Mermaid AU | 6.3K | T+

"You shouldn't go out to the sea at night," their grandmother says. She's in a rocking chair, old and creaky, her withered body settled with a shawl around her shoulders, wrinkled fingers gripping the edges of the arm rest. "Don't risk it."

"Risk what?" Shiro asks, eyes wide. He's fourteen, just a young boy, on the cusp of maturity, arms wrapped around his younger brother as they sit before their grandmother.

His grandmother pauses for a while. "There is danger in the sea."

7. steal the air from my lungs by zxrysky

Siren AU | T+ | 10K

“Read the news,” his grandma told him with something sad in her eyes, and passed him the newspapers lying on the table. She lifted him on her lap and turned the page, flipped through the black and white words until it landed on a picture of the ocean, wide and blue, stretching out far into the horizon.

“Missing people at sea,” Lance read out dutifully, and his eyes grew big. “They don’t come back?” He asked in a small voice. He couldn’t imagine- he couldn’t imagine just leaving. He couldn’t imagine going missing. He thought of James, barely two, holding on to Lance’s hands as he toddled along the ground, and shuddered.

“They don't, baby. These missing people at sea, they don’t ever come back.” His grandma looked old and tired, and Lance abruptly thought of his granddad, lost at sea long before Lance came into the world, and all that was left was this huge house.

8. Siren's Call by wittyy_name

Siren AU | M | 21.6K

The once bloody war between man and siren has come to a tremulous truce once the siren prince had been captured. The people of Altea retreated, and mankind was once more free to roam the sea. Shackled and locked away within a mountain cavern, the prince watches, and he waits. Biding his time.

Keith has never truly fit in, no matter how much he’s tried. Ever since Shiro found him, wild and alone in the northern mountains, something has burned deep inside him, something dangerous and terrifying. A simmering need for something more. To protect those he loves. To tear apart those who hide behind falsities and carefully sculpted smiles. Those who hide behind laws of their own creation.

Two beasts, shackled and bound, each in their own way. Keys to each other’s freedom.

9. It Never Rains on Saturday by TheLegendOfChel

Demon AU | T+ | 22K

In the magical kingdom of Altea lies an ominous tower filled with monsters. Every day, adventurers battle through the tower’s levels in a never-ending quest to slay the Demon King who lives at the very top.

Lance, a talented archer, is one such adventurer. However, Lance doesn’t want to kill the Demon King.

Lance wants to marry him.

10. The Fallen and the Wandering by creeshtar

Gen Fantasy | T+ | 106K

Keith was born into a world of ice and darkness, with no sun to rise or stars to shine. In spite of humanity’s best efforts, the world is meeting a slow, but certain doom, which can only be stopped if the sun is found and replaced in the sky. Keith, meanwhile, is content to collect stars and eventually replace them in the sky, alongside a new partner that he can’t seem to help but gravitate towards--until a mysterious person with inhuman power goes on a warpath to find the sun for herself. Keith and his partner are unwittingly thrown into the race to find the sun first, only for Keith to discover, to his dismay, that it may be closer than he could’ve ever wanted.

I lovvvee fantasy aus! Thanks for the ask <3

[soulreapin]

spacex t-shirt

the not long awaited wip folks!!!

summary: Keith sees something white and soft-looking hiding underneath a towel, and as soon as he grabs at it, the lights flicker once and then shut off entirely, plunging him back into darkness. “Random Galra commander, you are on my shitlist,” Keith declares under his breath, pulling the shirt out of the pile and yanking it over his head.

His hair gets caught in the collar and he pulls at it until it curls around his neck again, and Keith haphazardly throws it up into a ponytail with the hair tie he found next to his bayard and knife. He forgoes boots entirely, on account of he swore he’d left a spare pair in Red, and even if he didn’t, his paladin armor had boots so he was really just saving himself time suiting up.

or, the canonverse fic where keith and lance’s laundry gets (purposefully) mixed up

please please reblog this if you had a good time, tumblr runs on reblogs and so do i

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Galra Nose

Galran puberty is weird. That's the only way to describe it. While in human puberty one might hit a sudden growth spurt or experience unfortunate vocal changes, Galra puberty causes enhancement of the senses and more recognizable alien features.

Keith doesn't mind the drop in his voice or his glowy eyes. His heightened hearing is actually very helpful, and his sharpened fingernails can come in handy in a tight spot.

He only complaint he has is hitting puberty twice. Anyway, he learns to live with it.

Keith steps out of his lion and is instantly bombarded with the strong smell of flowers.

In their briefing, Allura explained that this planet is known for its beautiful gardens. The whole place is in perpetual darkness, but their are small spores that float through the air and give the plants the necessary nutrients to thrive.

Now that Keith has a chance to see it with his own eyes, he doesn't want to leave.

For some reason, the fragrance filling the air around him calms him. He feels like a warm blanket has been wrapped around his shoulders. He has a strong urge to run straight into one of the many meadows surrounding them and roll around.

No one else is having this reaction. Pidge's nose is bright red, and she sneezes every 10 seconds. "Allergies suck," she mutters at the other paladins.

Keith grins at her. He does it to comfort her, but she looks taken aback. After a moment Keith realizes that he doesn't usually smile that wide at his teammates.

He can't seem to help it, though. He has a small smile on his face all throughout their meeting with the planet's leader. He has never felt so safe before. The scent of plants fills his head and fuzzes his thoughts. It's pleasant, not having constant agitation buzz around his brain.

Lance sees his good mood and decides to test it.

"Hey, Keith. Whad'ya say we go check out those fields? Someone told me that we can run around all we want after this meeting is over."

Keith smiles contentedly and nods.

They finally get outside and Keith is the first to steak across the tall grass that blankets the ground.

Lance lets out a surprised, but happy, shout before chasing after him.

Keith trips over a rock or root, causing Lance to crash into him.

Lance braces himself for Keith to snap at him, to tell him to watch it.

Instead, Keith giggles. Keith flipping Kogane giggles.

He rolls onto his back and flings his arms out so that one of his hands rests on Lance's chest. Lance tries to hide his blush.

"I love this place. It smells like warmth."

The way he says it reminds Lance of a cat and catnip.

"You feeling okay, buddy? This is awesome, and I'm glad to see you lightening up a bit, but you don't sound yourself."

Keith's laugh rings out like a bell. Lance tries not to seem shocked, the only laughter he's ever heard from the red paladin is after winning a harsh battle.

"I've actually never felt better. I feel freed."

The glowing spores in the air are floating above their heads. They look magical, and bathe Keith's face in just enough light for Lance to study it.

His eyes are closed, and there's a quirk to his lips. His tensed posture is gone as he lays spread out across the ground here.

Lance remembers something Keith said once. They had been doing their weekly team bonding session, aka spilling all of you secrets 'for the good of the universe,' and Keith had mumbled that he is afraid of the dark. Allura stopped turning the lights off in his room after that, not understanding that she wasn't helping his problem.

That's not a problem here, because the darkness is broken by the spores' glow.

Lance's train of thought is interrupted by a low rumble beside him. He realizes with a jolt that Keith is purring. He's moving closer to Lance and purring. Keith curls into his side. Lance wraps his arms around the happy boy next to him.

Keith needs to be like this more often. Sure, he's clingy, but he's lost the biting edge to him, and it gives way to this softer side of him that Lance didn't know existed. He doesn't doubt that Keith could still take down an army, but this is proof that Keith isn't all rough edges and grime.

The team eventually find them. They see Keith's peaceful face and decide to stay a little longer. They all lay on the ground together and tell stories about Earth while Keith purrs.

It's a shame they have to go.

Everyone expects Keith to go back to normal, but he doesn't.

He sulks around the castle and refuses to speak to anyone, even Shiro.

It tears Lance's heart out. He wants to scream, Speak! Yell at me or insult me or purr again, anything!

But he doesn't he stays wilted and unresponsive.

They are going to change that, though.

The whole gang gathers in the lounge for a meeting (without Keith, of course). They don't have to worry about him finding them because he rarely comes out of his room these days.

"I think I know what's wrong!" Lance bursts.

"The planet had all of those plants. We already know that he's developing stronger hearing and sight, so it makes sense that his nose would change too. It think it's like catnip."

He's so dead serious that he can't even laugh at the image of Keith sticking his head into a bed of catnip that appears in his mind.

Everyone agrees, so they move on to problem solving. In an hour, they have a plan.

-

Keith has been training all day. He hates the detached feeling that fills his body, and he feels so useless. Everyone has been trying so hard to cheer him up, and he can't even find it within himself to thank them.

He sighs before ending the training sequence and heading back to his room. It has done little to clear his mind, but he has to at least try to fix himself.

He punches in the door code and immediately drops his bayard.

All over his room, glass terrariums sit on every surface. There are golden fairy lights strung up all over the walls, and bright glow stars are scattered across the ceiling.

The first thing that comes to his mind is magic. The other paladins have worked some form of magic and transformed his once impersonal, bare room into an enchanted hideaway.

The tears dripping from his eyes only intensify when he feels someone hug him from behind. He turns around to see the whole team smiling at him.

They all huddle into a a giant hug and have a moment.

Now, at night he doesn't fear the darkness creeping around him. The loneliness in his chest doesn't claw its way into his thoughts. The smell of alive things fills his nose and heart.

He finds new plants at every planet they visit to add to his garden.

Sleepovers are always in his room from then on.

Keith's family is the best.

[ryomens-vixen]

90s!BF-GOJO SATORU HEADCANONS

I'll try to make this as Diverse as I can so-

(H/T) = Hair Texture

(E/C) = Eye Color

(H/C) = Hair Color

(B/T) = Body Type (🍎, 🍐, slim, etc you get it)

(S/C) = Skin Color

CW: Minor🔞 DNI, 🤏 of Smut, Fluff, Idk whatever else comes to my head.

Word count: Ion fckin know 🤷🏾‍♀️ Have Fun and don't forget to ❤ and Reblog!

90sBF!Gojo Who would roll up to your house in his black 1992 Pontiac Firebird blasting Sir-mix-Alot's ride, You could just hear it from the comfort of your bedroom. How did you know you were going somewhere? Did Suguru snitch on you again? Of course he would that's his homeboy for fuck sakes, Either Satoru would make you talk to him one way or another even if that meant disturbing the old folks that lived next door.

90sBF!Gojo who'd roll his window down at the sight of you walking out in (Your outfit of Choice),while peaking over his dark round shades Satoru wore a White sleeveless tank top, gold chain, and grey sweats.

"Gyattdaaamn~ Well would yah getta look at you, baaaby~ Looking good f'me and not anyone else I hope."

He had that cocky little smirk etched across his face, he knew exactly what he was doing showin up over here looking as good as he did and cocky as always. Boy did he get on yo nerves sometimes.

You stood atop of the porch, hand on hip staring at him with an annoyed expression written across your face.

"Gojo-"

"It's Satoru, baby... Or Toru for short yah know since you was screaming it a couple nights ago. So, instead of having a that lil attitude how bout you come get in the car and let TORU fix it."

When ya dance, I'm on ya 🎶

When ya walk, I'm on ya 🎶

When ya moan, I'm on ya 🎶

I'm that nasty dog and I tried to warn ya

To the 'tel, to the 'tel we go 🎶

Don't need a bed 'cause I'm good on the floor 🎶

When a chocolate masterpiece walks by- 🎶

90sBF!Gojo who sweet talked you enough to let him take you somewhere, at least it was a lot better than where you intended on going. Parked in an empty parking lot, one leg hanging out the window loosing a shoe in the process, other on the dashboard, seat laid back with Satoru giving you the best toe curling, soul lifting, overstimulating head imaginable while sir-mix-alot still played. Satoru knew just how to fix that attitude of your nothing, but some head and good dickin to cure it, and if he could he would freak you all damn day until you're either drunk on dick or too asleep to even remember what you were mad at him about.

90sBF!Gojo who took you to the basketball court to watch him play b-ball with Kento, Suguru, Ryomen And Toji right after making you wet up his seats and dashboard with your juices, man did he love it when you made his car smell like coochie... Yeah Satoru was freak nasty, but not as Nasty as his home boys, but only you would know that.

90sBF!Gojo who also enjoys hittin a blunt or two while you're giving him & Suguru head in their shared apartment.

[Now for some Fluff]

90sBF!Gojo who enjoyed gazing into your beautiful (E/C) eyes every chance he could because he loved the way you'd get nervous and fidgety everytime he made eye contact with you. He especially loved it when you'd avert your eyes elsewhere to avoid him, all for his to get up make his way over to you and grab you chin. With that smile ooh... That smile on his face as he makes you stare into his eyes until you're nothing, but putty in his hands.

90sBF!Gojo who enjoys buying you all types of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces as a way of showing you that you're his.

90sBF!Gojo who sits outside your house, Suguru holding a boom box in hand blasting "Nobody by Keith Sweat" while Gojo lip sync, Kento was also there as moral support, but can't help but to feel the second hand embarrassment listening to you cuss Satoru out from your window, and him screaming the lyrics as the ass crack of night. Maybe if he wasn't flirtin with that trick at the grocery store, then neither one of you would be in this position.

90sBF!Gojo Who enjoys helping you brush and style your (H/C) & (H/T) on days where you just don't feel like it or don't have the money to get it done yourself.

90sBF!Gojo who constantly talks about a getting out of the hood and marrying you one day, but also teasing you about having Suguru move in whenever that happens.

90sBF!Gojo Who gets all his Romantic ideas from Kento and Suguru because he doesn't have a clue about being Romantic in the slightest, but he knows he wants to treat you like the Queen you are.

90sBF!Gojo who takes you out of town on these expensive dates where you don't even have a clue about how much he's spent because he won't tell you. He wouldn't want your pretty little head to worry about some silly numbers.

90sBF!Gojo who introduced you to Toji's son Megumi who he and Suguru were taking care of while Toji was once again, in jail for something he shouldn't have been doing in the first place.

90sBF!Gojo who watched as you played around with megumi from time to time, hugging him, kissing his face, styling his hair, carrying him around on your hip as if he wasn't big boy enough to walk on his own. It Gojo realize how much he really wanted to marry you and have kids with you, you're the perfect mother for his children in his eyes.

90sBF!Gojo who loved feeling on your (B/T) shaped body and kissing on your beautiful, soft (S/C) where ever he could get his lips and hands on. He just loved the feel of you it didn't matter what you were doing. You could breathe and he'd come over just to put his hand and plump lips on you.

90sBF!Gojo who would wake you up with kisses and the smell of breakfast in the morning.

90sBF!Gojo who would embarrass you with his need for PDA if anyone tried to flirt with you while he is with you. The way he would grab a hand full of your ass and immediately shove his tongue into mouth is ridiculous. Just to drive off one person? Yes. Yes it was necessary TO HIM. Meanwhile you're squirming and pounding at his chest for him to stop because you're in public.

90sBF!Gojo who would teasingly call you his ole lady, even though he's the one that older than you. You just look like you're older than him because of his luscious skin and beautiful features.

90sBF!Gojo who can't handle his alcohol at all, waking up whining to you about his hangover and how he'll never drink with the boys again. He's so cute when he's all whiny and needy- So you end up taking care of him and staying in bed the rest of the day, I mean you DID warn him not to drink to much cause he's a lightweight.

90sBF!Gojo who would definitely go shopping for matching outfits with you.

90sBF!Gojo who can't stand not being away from you for more than a day. Yeah I missed his best friend Suguru after days of spending the night at your place, but he has to go back home and he's a LOT needier than you are. He'll sit at the apartment all quiet, pouty, and pissy because he wants to be in your arms longer, listen to your sweet voice, feel your hands massage that spot at the back of his head that sleeps so good it makes him sleepy.

90sBF!Gojo Who calls you complaining during boys night about how Suguru, Kento, Ryomen, and Toji are "fuckin wit him" about you and it's making him mad. All for you to laugh at him and the boys playfully telling them to leave him alone before you come over there.

90sBF!Gojo who after a long frustrating day at work where he was a teacher. Comes to your crib uninvited just to lay on you and decompress, dealing with a bunch of bratty, snort nose, whiny ass kids just wasn't his cup of tea yet he was so good with children! Even Megumi is in his class and Megumi loves gojo... Sorta.

90sBF!Gojo who randomly brings up possibly having kids with him and how he's already thinking of baby names, like if it was a boy he's name would be (x name) or if it was a girl her name would be (x name).

90sBF!Gojo who talks about where he should get your name tattooed on him, maybe his neck, or his back, maybe his arm, or maybe.. Just maybe on his sexy V-Line that you loved outlining with your finger tips whenever he was shirtless.

90sBF!Gojo who would annoying call your mom or you dad on you to make you talk to him when all else fails. Oh did your parents love Satoru he was already an in law in their eyes, but oh did you fuckin HATE when he does that shit like you weren't going to talk to him in a few days.

90sBF!Gojo who would get a stern talking from your father the first time you brought him home to your parents, hoping to God he doesn't embarrassing.

I hope you all enjoyed this was so hard so me to do 😵💫 there was so much going on around me during the making of this, BUT PLEASE DON'T COPY OR PLAGIARIZE My work, I worked really hard on this.

[violettduchess]

Hello I hope not to bother for the Winter Flurries

The spin prompts wheel landed on sleep intimacy Can I have it with Keith? 🙏 One of thetwo is fine whoever you are most comfortable with 🤗

I am sending you guys and support for your job I never thought it was so hard 😳 You have my respect Remember to take breaks sometimes to and fuel yourself with your fav snack 😉😘

A/N: Here you are @queengiuliettafirstlady 💜

Keith x Reader

WC: ~680

The Jadean morning light slides eager fingers along the window panes of your bedroom but it is no match for the heavy forest green velvet of your drapery. Not even a sliver of light manages to sneak its way into the darkened haven of the room. If you knew it was so late in the morning, you would feel a deep flush of embarrassment that you were still abed. But the curtains keep you cocooned in darkness and the strong arm wrapped around your middle anchors you to a very warm, very naked body.

You snuggle even closer, burrowing deeper into Keith’s sleep-heavy embrace. His breathing shifts, air drawn in quickly for only a moment before he exhales, remaining in the sea of sleep, under the waves of dreaming.

There is nothing that makes you happier than this, a moment in time where you are both at complete and utter peace. Where there is no worry for the burdens of the day or the regrets of the past. There is only you and the man who is yours to love, your hearts beating in tranquil unison.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel him move, a languid, full-body motion like that of a panther slanting down to stretch its powerful muscles. Keith's long legs extend and he sighs, relishing the feel of the cool silk sheets not warmed by his body. A deep rumble rolls through his chest as he half-groans, half-yawns, pushing away the last lingering cobwebs of sleep.

“Mmm….breakfast,” he murmurs, his voice gravel bedecked in satin. 

“What’re you–Oh!” He bites into the curve of your shoulder, a breathlessly unexpected action. His large hand is now splayed possessively against your stomach and you know exactly who has woken up.

Your heart slingshots against your breastbone as you turn within the tight circle of his arms. The room is still bathed in shadow, still holding the daybreak at bay. His eyes look like burnished gold in the dusk of the room.

You slide your hand up between your bodies, cradling his strong jaw in your palm where you can feel, more than see, his smile.

“I think we may have already missed breakfast.” You stroke the smooth skin of his cheek. He turns, with a smile both quick and wild, and bites the tip of your index finger, laughing when you gasp. 

“Who says I can’t satisfy my hunger right here, right now?” He ducks his head and demonstrates exactly what he means as his tongue traces a heated path down your neck, following the rapidly increasing rhythm of your pulse.

Oh how easy it would be to stay in bed with him all day…..to allow this man to have his fill of you, to give yourself over to it completely.

Temptation winds itself around you, following the path of his covetous hands, his insatiable mouth. 

So very easy……

The sun has given up trying to lure you out of bed, instead concentrating all of its efforts on illuminating the rolling green fields, the proud forests, the smooth gray stone of the castle.

It is already tiring, reading itself to embrace the promise of evening when Keith blinks, momentarily disoriented as he wakes up. How late is it? How long have you been asleep? 

You’re curled up against him, one arm thrown across his strong chest, your head a warm, heavy weight on his shoulder. Your hair is tousled, your skin decorated with clusters of pink love bites. They remind him of cherry blossoms floating across still waters. Slowly, he moves his free arm and traces over several of them, his touch tender. He knows that he would never hurt you, that any mark left on your beautiful skin was welcomed. 

His large hand moves to brush away several strands of hair that lay across your cheek and his heart feels warm and light, like it could rise up to the heavens and outshine any star pinned to the night sky.

You stir, sliding your leg over his and readjusting your cheek on his shoulder before sinking back down into the lulling ocean of dreams.

Forget time and it’s demanding minutes and hours. Today has been lost to the feel of you wrapped in his arms. The both of you rising in a shower of sparks and then falling together, swathed in peaceful darkness.

He sighs, deeply content and wholly in love, letting his golden eyes flutter closed once again.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @drewadoodle-dandy @keithsandwich