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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

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Book Boyfriend a Frankie Morales x Plus Size Reader fic Part two the final

Book Boyfriend

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Plus Size F! Reader

Characters: Frankie Morales, Reader, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, William “Ironhead” Miller, Ben “Benny” Miller, Isabella Morales (OC)

Setting: Two years after the events in Colombia (Triple Frontier)

Rating: R, NSFW

Warnings: Smut, Soft Frankie (yes that has to be a warning), cursing, teasing, unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), tooth rotting fluff, mixed with a little hurt/comfort, mention of abuse,

Word count: Part 1: 10,284, Part 2: 16,388 (sorry not sorry, I blame Frankie for the wordiness)

Summary: You’ve been so engrossed in your currant book series its lead to Frankie feeling a little left out.

Notes: This is my first Frankie Morales/Pedro Pascal Fic, so I’m hoping everyone loves it as much as I did writing it. Something a little fluffy I thought of while thinking of my own favorite book boyfriends. Using the translator Systran for my very bad Spanish translations. A grateful thank you to @icanbeyourjedi for helping me out with Frankie’s Dog tags.

Tag list: @manalg14 @songbirdcannabe

From Part 1

Finally, home from running errands and wrangling a very fussy Isabella though you couldn’t blame her really. Exhaustion setting into your very bones from running around town, stopping around noon at a play/girlfriend's date. Talking with the girls as the kids played, laughing over the latest things their men have done and the newest book in the series everyones reading. Heat flared to life at the memory of Frankie from this morning during your talk when things turned towards the more intimate. Though you’d refused to share the details just saying he’s better than any book boyfriend you’ve read. Getting teased by your friends up until the moment you left for the grocery store with a very sleepy little girl in your arms.

Chuckling softly you put Isabella down for another longer nap so you could get the rest of the groceries in from the car. Pulling your cell out to dial Santi’s number putting the slim piece of tech between your shoulder and ear having forgot the buds in your purse. Not wanting to waste time on getting the steaks marinated for tonight, you decided a neck pain would be a better choice for now.

Breathing a sigh when he picks up on the second ring, “What do I owe for this unexpected call?” smooth baritone filtering over the line making you smile.

“I need a favor Pope.”

Chuckling, “Finally came to your senses and dropped Fish for me huh, hermosa?” teasing quality to his voice, you picking up the sounds of water running in the background.

Knowing he’s just playing with you though at one time you’d entertained the idea of asking Santiago out. You never got the nerve up instead one cold beer accidentally poured down your shirt later and here you were with the man of your dreams and his beautiful little girl who you’ve fell in love with. You still chuckle at how sweetly apologetic Frankie had been, cheeks stained red with embarrassment at having spilled his drink over you. Though in reality it almost hadn’t been an accident, as all three guys noticed the way he looked at you. Watching the sway of your generous hips to the music, glancing away when you scanned the bar. Never seeing your own eyes rest on him for longer than normal. Only to dart away and back to your friend on your left.

They plotted, Will trying to talk Pope and Ben out of the stupid idea, but neither would listen, while Frankie took off to the bathroom. Coming back, he’d made a beeline for the bar to grab another mug of beer, taking up the spot right next to you. That’s when Benny tried to strike, sneaking up to Frankie’s left side looking to ask you out himself. Only to be beaten when you turn towards Frankie and he to you, a guy from behind barreling his way through the crowd and into your back. Pushing you forward and into the glass he held. Cold beer pouring down your front as a warm hand pressed against your thick waist to keep you from falling. Your eyes locked and from that moment on you’d been a goner.

“Hello earth to Y/N you still with me woman? Or fantasizing about me,” knowing there’s a grin on his lips by the tone of his voice.

Eyes rolling, as your hands work to finish seasoning the steaks, “Keep dream Pope maybe one day it’ll come true. Through I wouldn’t hold my breath,” snarky comment leaving your lips with a grin tugging the corners. “You busy tonight and tomorrow?”

“Free as a bird, why you have something planned? Party? Or are you finally gonna ask Frankie to marry you?” the last question only a half joke knowing that the man in question wanted to ask that one himself.

Gapping for a moment but finding the idea appealing, “Think he’d be okay with that if I did?” Of course, you’d thought about marrying Frankie. Hell for the last year you wanted to ask or at least hint at it. But not wanting to overstep any boundaries he set up for himself. Never brought up, though you’ve thought about it a few times. Finding yourself for the most part content having them both in your life.

“He’d die, but say yes so I think it’s a go,” smiling at the thought. You fit right in with the boys, giving hell just as much as you got. But most of all helping Frankie through his demons, not shying away when things got tough. Rather suiting up for battle with a determination he hadn’t seen in seasoned soldiers. Not to mention the way you took care of Isabella as if she’s your own daughter. “Remember I’m best man, Will and Benny bridesmaids I’m sure they’ll look good in whatever color you choose.”

Giggling at that idea, “I’ll put them in hot pink dresses, halter tops to show off those muscles,” fully belly laugh roars from your lips at the very through of those two grown men in dresses. Santi’s gruff laughter only serves to spur yours on, making you grip the counter to keep from slipping to the floor in mirth. Sobering, grabbing the towel to dry your laughter tears away, “I’m gonna have to tell them you know that right Pope?”

Snorting, “Of fucking course you would,” wiping his own mirthful tears away. “Anything else you needed to ask me hermosa and please I don’t do flower arrangements. Cake tasting I’m all for.”

Finished with the streaks, setting those aside to grab the potatoes to get them ready next while answering, “So noted but you might have to fight Benny on that one babe.” Pulling the aluminum foil out to wrap up the fork stuck potatoes, “That’s not why I called actually. I’m wondering if you could baby sit Isabella till tomorrow afternoon?”

“That’s a no brainer of course I will, Uncle Santi to the rescue,” looking for the car seat and his keys. “I’ve got her bed set up and extra clothes.”

“No junk food Pope or I’ll skin you alive when I see you tomorrow,” voice taking on a hard mama edge. Already having packed a small bag of items, knowing full well that Santi wouldn’t have them on hand. Nor did you expect the poor inexperience man to know what to feed a two almost three-year-old. “I’ve got her a goodie bag packed with what you’ll need and if anything happens…”

“I’ll call Will and Ben, we’ll figure it out unless it’s an emergency,” placing his buds in to continue the conversation and setting to work on getting the new car seat in place. Double checking the instructions, he would never let anyone know he used, wanting to keep his goddaughter safe. The very idea of her getting hurt knocked the wind from his lungs. Shaking that thought aside, knowing you wouldn’t ask for this favor if you and Frankie didn’t trust him. “Better yet, we can three men and a baby it tonight.”

“Oh, good Lord if my child comes back with a tattoo or piecing and drinking a Budweiser, I will have all three of your cocks mounted on my wall.” Trying to make your voice hard but wanting to bust out laughing again. Almost straining yourself from holding back the giggles.

Fake gasp leaving his lips, “Have some taste woman it’ll be a tequila, if it's Bud blame Frick and Frack for that.” Catching the ‘your child’ comment makes him grin knowing his best friend and Goddaughter are in good hands. “Careful cariño your mama bear is showing.”

“I’ll show you three mama bear when I’ve strung you up by your balls if there is one hair on my precious child’s head missing,” grinning, knowing that you love that little girl with all your heart.

“Damn Y/N I didn’t know you were this blood thirsty or is it a cock and ball fascination? Bigger question does Fish know?” biting back the laughter bubbling up, triumphant look on his handsome face when he’s finished putting the car seat.

Shaking your head small giggle leaving your lips, “Watch yourself Santiago Garcia or you’ll find out just what I keep in my purse.”

“Now you have me intrigued. Thank packing heat in that monster bag of yours?” sliding into the driver seat phone call switching to the onboard Bluetooth. Plucking the earbuds out to stow them while driving. “When did Frankie teach you how to shoot?”

Heat tingling your neck, as you sputter out an answer, “He actually didn’t teach me.”

“What’d mean?” confused frown marring his handsome features as he stops at a red light. Hearing his phone ding for a text message from Frankie, deepening his confusion. “Does Fish know Isabella is staying with me tonight?”

Thanking God for the last question, “No, I didn’t tell him just yet. It’s a surprise. Why?”

“He’s texting me now, asking if I can watch Isabella I bet,” pulling into the nearest gas station to answer. “Shall I tell him?” smirking when he hears the low growl from the other end of the phone. “Take that as a no Bella.”

“I swear on all that’s holy Santiago if you tell Frankie…”

“Yes, yes you’ll have my dick nailed to the wall as a trophy,” rolling his eyes though you can’t. Light chuckle barely sounds when he reads what Frankie texted, “So, violent today Y/N.”

Catfish: Necesita un hermano favorito?

(Need a favorite brother?)

Pope: Nombrarlo

(Name it.)

Not hearing anything for a moment, bottom lip trapped between your teeth standing in the kitchen worried your plan could fall apart. But trusted Santiago, “What’s he asking about Santi?”

“Hasn’t yet, just chill Bella like I said he’s probably asking the same question.” Sure, enough the next text that comes in, has another chuckle leaving his lips.

Catfish: Puedes cuidar hasta mañana?

(Can you babysit till tomorrow?)

Pope: Lo que está en él para mí

(What’s in it for me?)

Knowing Frankie’s groaning at his answer, Santi can’t help but tease his best friend. “I was right he’s asking the same thing you owe me five bucks.”

“Fuck you Pope we didn’t make a bet,” rolling your eyes this time and breathing a sigh of relief. You set to work making the key lime pie for dessert, aiming to get everything ready before Frankie came home from work. Along with a shower and dressed in the new lingerie you bought a week ago.

“Shame I could use the dollar bills,” shaking his head at the stupid code he and Frankie came up with for strip club.

Chuckling, “Next time Pope I know the girls miss you raining them with those bills and sticking them in their G-string.”

“How did…” eyes wide when the phone dinged with another text message.

Catfish: Tiempo con tu ahijada y debía uno. Además, voy a preguntarle esta noche.

(Time with your goddaughter and owed one. Plus, I’m going to ask her tonight.)

Forgetting all about how you knew what that code meant, Santiago let out the loudest yell of excitement. Gaining the attention of a few people pumping gas with ‘you crazy’ looks and also making you worry.

“Pope what’s wrong? You, okay?” genuine fear lacing your tone, holding the phone tighter hand starting to shake. “You didn’t have an accident, did you? Don’t you dare ruin my plans for tonight Santiago Garcia.”

Knowing the last threat means nothing, Santi tries to calm down not wanting to give away that he knows something about Frankie’s plan. “Yeah,” clearing his throat to hide the fact he’s lying. “Yeah, I’m good cariño just found out my team won,” hoping you don’t see through his lie. Something you’re almost scary good at.

Releasing the breath held trapped in your lungs relieved sigh pushed out along with the air. Heart broken if anything happened to him. In a relative short period of time all four men have situated themselves into your heart in different ways. The very idea of loosing them would shattered the strongest muscle in your body. The wise words of your favorite whiskey drinking Hunter comes to mind that family doesn’t end in blood.

“Don’t ever do that again Santiago or might just have to punish you in ways that won’t you won’t like,” leaning against the counter trying to calm your racing heart.

“You wouldn’t cariño you love me too much,” grinning, leaning over to scoop up his cell phone from where it landed in his excitement to answer Frankie.

Pope: Acerca de maldito tiempo hombre, sí, voy a cuidar a mi godhija esta noche para que usted y el pronto para ser esposa puede carajo toda la noche.

(About fucking time man, yes, I'm gonna take care of my goddaughter tonight so you and soon to be a wife can fuck all night.)

Chuckling, Pope places his cell phone on the cup holder and restarts the truck heading first towards Will and Benny’s place. Hearing the groan leave your throat followed by a quick ouch. “Now what’d you do?” hissing coming over the speakers in his truck making him worry this time.

“Just nicked my finger is all Santi I’m not gusting blood or anything. Though I don’t recommend getting lime juice in the cut, hurts like a mother fucker.” Moving to the sink to clean the cut, just one more thing to put you behind in getting things ready.

“Do you kiss Frankie with that mouth woman?” pulling into the drive giving a couple of blasts on the horn.

“On the mouth and other places to Pope,” smirking at the disgusted sound leaving his lips. Bandaging your finger up to get back to work. Hearing a horn sound over the cell line, “You hear alright Pope? I heard you honk over the phone.”

“Picking Will and Ben up then heading over to yours,” seeing the two brothers come out he puts the call on mute to speak with them. Rolling the window down to talk, “Suite up we got ourselves a mission.”

Glancing between each other than back at Pope, “The hell you say man, the game’s on tonight, Ben and I were heading to the Roadhouse to watch and see how many times Benny get’s shot down.”

“Fuck you Ironhead,” punching his brother’s arm, leaning on the mirror hearing your voice muttering something over the truck’s speakers. “Why you talking to Y/N?”

“No thanks man you ain’t my type too many dangly bits for my taste,” snarking back landing his own punch to Ben’s shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, “Y/N called we got babysitting duty tonight, Frankie’s gonna pop the question but neither know of the other’s plans.”

Loud cheers erupt from both men to the point Santi must bang on the side of the truck to get their attention to shut up. Having heard you ask something he goes to unmute, “What did you say Y/N I couldn’t make it out over Frick and Frack’s noises assholes selves.”

Huffing, “I asked if one of you could start a fire for me, Frankie gets weird if he knows I did it myself.”

“That’s cause last time you tried you almost burned the house down woman,” Pope snarked pushing Benny away

Coming back, hitting Pope in the chest, “Of course, gorgeous we’ll take care of that for you,” Benny chimes in leaning into the window so you can hear him.

“Down boy, or you won’t get a slice of the pie I’m making,” chuckling you put the phone down long enough to put said pie in the oven and slam the door making you jump a little.

Playfully putting his hand to his chest, “Marry me Y/N, Frankie doesn’t deserve you.”

Both Pope and Will snort at that, but it’s your sweet voice that answers with, “Sorry sweetheart I’m spoken for by a sweet little girl who you’ll babysit tonight and one handsome flyboy that does some very wicked things with his hands.”

Groaning, “Don’t give us any visions please I’ll need bleach to get Fish’s naked ass outta my head,” shaking to get the images out. Laying his forehead on his arms while leaning against the truck trying to rub that idea out of his mind, having come to love you like a sister. Will didn’t want to know anything about your sex life.

“Aww what’s the matter William you didn’t see enough of it while bunking together on tour?” teasing tone to your voice plopping down in a chair to wait on the pie. “What time will you three Stooges get here?”

Shrugging, “Twenty or thirty minutes give or take, depends on how long it takes the blond wonder twins to pack a go bag.” Santi answers getting murders looks from both men.

“Make sure you ask them their measurements Santi,” biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing harder. “Let them know pink won’t clash with their skin tone.”

The looks only intensify combined with a confusion at your words, “Thanks Annie Oakley.” Groaning head dropping to the steering wheel. “Which reminds me you’ll have to tell us the story of how you learned to use a gun. See ya in a few,” hanging up before you can say anything else and dig his hole deeper.

“What exactly did she mean by measurements?” crossing his arms over muscular chest, glaring at Pope.

Resting an arm on his brother’s shoulder, “And pink? Really, I’m more of a coral,” trying to keep from chuckling while giving Pope his own glare. Benny realizing what he’d said at the end and tries to cover with adding, “When did Y/N learn to shoot, better yet where’d she get the gun?”

Shrugging, “Just found out today, gonna ask when we get there.” Knowing you can handle yourself more concerned that you’ve learned the correct way to handle a gun. Never wanting you to actually have a need to shoot but incase Santiago wants to make sure you wouldn’t hurt yourself. Especially if Frankie didn’t show you or know. His mind rewinding to the fact, “Coral? What the fuck dude? How the hell do you even know what that is?”

Dying of laughter, Benny turns giving both of them the middle finger salute heading back into the house to grab both his and Will’s go bags. As promised Pope pulled into the driveway thirty minutes later, all three exist, not even bothering to knock just walking right in. Fresh baked goodies and coffee brewing meeting their noses, along with a squeal of excitement from a little blur of yellow and blue.

“Ukcl Po,” flinging herself into his arms, as he’s crouched down to scoop her up unconcerned with his knees popping, spinning around to her delighted peels of laugher.

Hugging her close, seeing you come around the corner with an arm load of firewood bright smile on your lips. “Good y’all finally showed up thought I’d have to start the fire myself,” joking tone. Using your elbow to wave them in.

Will passes Pope and Isabella pausing to ruffle her hair, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead then going over to take the arm load from you. Making you roll your eyes reluctantly giving it over when he gives you that stern look.

“I’m not helpless you know I can move a couple of pieces,” tossing your hands up, smacking Will’s shoulder as he passes.

Shaking his head, “And have Frankie put us on freeze for letting his woman get hurt. Nope, no thank you ma’am I happen to like having certain body parts stay in respective places.”

“It’s not Fish you have to worry about rearranging parts Ironhead its Y/N,” bouncing Isabella in his arms smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ain’t that right Annie Oakley?” grin widening when you turn to scowl at Pope.

“Careful Santi or you’ll wearing the pink dress,” crossing your arms to glare at both men, as Benny chuckles beside Pope. In between making faces at Isabella, her giggles making beautiful music.

Rejoining the group after dusting his hands on his jean clad thighs, “Anything else you need done Y/N?” scenting the air a small growl leaving Will’s stomach.

“You got a bear in there William?” taking Isabella from Pope to put her on your hip while walking back to the kitchen and check on the potatoes.

Low whistle leaving all three men making heat race up your neck a small squirm moves over your body when they see everything you’ve got planned out for tonight. Steaks siting out ready for the grill along with the corn on the cob, salad finished and chilling in the fridge, and the pie cooling. Out of the corner of your eye you spy Benny going towards the pie. Quickly spinning making Isabella giggle to land a hard smack to his hand. He pulls back quickly puppy eyes in place and howls of laughter from the other two men.

“Ben Miller how dare you try to stick a finger in my pie,” scowl firmly in place, Isabella matching the look or at least trying to its more adorable than anything.

Unlike yours which is truly scary and has Ben raising his hands in surrender. “You sure you weren’t in the military gorgeous that look alone would’ve made plenty green recruits wet themselves,” backing up when you go to smack his shoulder.

“Shame none of you will get a slice now,” placing Isabella in the highchair feeling a rush of air pass you by. Looking up to see all three sitting at the table with pleading looks on their faces. Shaking your head smile sliding over your lips, “You three are the worse right Bella baby?”

“Ight mama,” nodding her head quickly, clapping her hands in excitement.

To which Ben leans over to tickle her sides making her squeal even louder. Will and Pope both making silly faces none of them noticing when you pull your cell phone out to take a short video. Sending it to Frankie with the simple words “Our family”. Soft smile gracing your features watching them interact. Your heart expanding in love but also hurting. Wishing, not for the first time, that your own mom and siblings where here.

“Hey,” calling from his spot. Having looked away so Santi wouldn’t see your eyes, turning to pull plates from the cabinet missing the frown turning down his lips. Raising to go over, “You, okay?”

Wanting Frankie there to chase away these thoughts you’ve tried to keep buried. You nod not trusting your voice right then to answer with words. Hating how your mood so quickly shifted spoiling the moment.

Placing a hand on your shoulder to turn and have you face him, “You know you can tell us, me anything Y/N, we’re your family and family takes care of one another.”

Taking a deep breath wringing your hands in front of you, knowing he’s right. Seeing for yourself the genuine concern in those deep brown pools. “My thoughts went to having my blood family here, my mom,” turning to look at Isabella, “she would’ve loved her so much.” Glancing up to see both Will and Benny giving you reassuring smiles that accompany nods of affirmation having heard Santiago’s words about family.

“Blood doesn’t always make family sweetheart standing by someone through thick and thin, never giving up, letting them into your heart that’s what makes a family.” Taking Isabella’s little hand in his, Ben looks at you his words making you tear up but this time in a good way. Eyes lingering on the youngest Miller for a bit longer.

Seeing your tears, “I’d cry to if I looked at Benny’s ugly mug, got a face only a mother could love,” trying to lighten the mood. Hearty laughter filling the kitchen when you toss a balled-up towel at Will’s head. Landing perfectly over his face getting high pitched giggles from Isabella.

“Thank you,” sincerity laced through you tone giving both Miller boys a smile once the towel is off Will’s face. Turning back to Pope to pat his chest, giving him the same smile. “Grab the coffee for me Santi please, looks like I’ve got a pie to cut into.”

With a two-finger sloppy salute and a kiss to your cheek, Santi grabs the glass coffee pot from the maker, sugar and cream sitting nearby. “Anytime cariño, anytime.”

Each with their hands full come to the table setting various items down, coffee poured, and pie sliced out with a heavy dollop of Reddi-whip atop. Moans of pleasure leave all three men, along with compliments and praise for your baking skills. Benny proposing once again which you turn down of course. Everyone tucking in after that first bite including Isabella who has more cream on her cheeks, chin, nose and shirt than her mouth. Her babbling on about different things while enjoying her pie. Brought a warmth to your heart, a rightness you hadn’t felt in your life till now.

Reaching over to wipe off her face, the smile gracing your lips made all three men grin. Santi pulls his phone out to take a couple of pictures to send to Frankie later, knowing he’d want to see them. Hearing the tale tell sound of a camera going off makes your head whip around.

Hating to have your picture taken when it’s needed, “Really I look like shit Santi and you’re taking pictures?” though you try to be mad at him, you fail knowing he’s doing it for Frankie.

“Shit…” little voice states making all four grownups turn to look at her, eyes wide before busting out laughing.

“You’re fault mama bear, I can’t wait till I tell Fish,” gripping the table to keep from falling from his chair laughing, fist banging the hard wood making the plates and forks jump around.

Face going into your hands to hide your embarrassment from the boys, all of whom can’t stop the gruff laughter from bubbling up in their chests. Worried, Isabella reaches out with a pie covered hand to touch your arm. “Oh, ta mama?” sticky fingers patting quickly.

Looking over at her you reach to taking her face in your hands, smile breaking through the embarrassment, to kiss her forehead. “I’m okay baby girl, your uncles are just evil is all,” giving her a wink that makes another peel of laughter leave her lips. Turing to Pope, “I may have to make good on that threat to hurt you by shooting you.”

Still laughing, Santi shakes his head never feeling more at home or free than when he’s surround by his family. Eyes crinkling, he sends a wink to Isabella before fixing his eyes on you. “Speaking of which you never told me who taught you.”

“Must you know all my secrets Pope?” teasing light entering your eyes that fixed on the man. With a heavy fake sigh, seeing the concern under the mirth, you answer. “My brother actually taught me years ago. Frankie took me to the range for practice a couple of times but we ah,” looking at Isabella she covers the little girl’s ears. “We got banned from the place,” giving them a shrug noticing the way all three were giving you a weird look. “Who knew Frankie like’s a woman who could handle a gun. He got handsy and one thing led to another…” smirk sliding over your lips.

“Stop, stop, stop I beg you,” from Will.

Waving his hands before covering his ears, humming “It’s the end of the world as we know it” trying to get what he just heard from his head. “That’s so wrong,” from Benny.

Santiago didn’t look to fazed just a grin on his lips, “That’s Frankie for ya. Should ah known he’s kinky as fu…”

Whipping around to smack Pope before he can finish that word, “Language Garcia.”

“Hey, you said a bad word,” winking at Isabella who clapped her pie covered hands at her uncle Pope. “How good a shot are you?”

Snorting, “Not nearly what Frankie can do but I managed to land a few head and chest shots before it got a little too hot and bothered.” Laughing when all three groan while you rise to pick Isabella up, “Fire please boys and light the grill too while I get baby girl here cleaned up and ready.”

“As long as you stop talking about yours and Fish’s sex life, I’ll do anything you ask,” Benny begs standing, grabbing the empty plates and mugs. Trying to push the thoughts running through his mind on film reel.

Pausing by the kitchen door leading towards the bedrooms, “Careful Ben I might have to take you up on that one. There’s gutters needing cleaned and a garage plus the house needs repainting,” giving him a mischievous smirk at his groan. Pausing to place a chase kiss to his stubbled cheek in thanks for cleaning up.

“If anyone is evil it’s you woman, go,” waving his free hand at you. “Get our little princess cleaned up we’ll handle this,” heading to the sink to wash dishes. Will heading to the living room to start the fire and Pope out the back door to get the grill going for you.

Standing there a moment tears pricking the back of your eyes, “Our family little one.” Heading then to her bedroom to change and clean the sticky pie from her hands and face. Coming back out ten minutes later a sugar high little girl running ahead of you and into Will. Who scoops her up holding her against his chest.

“Y’all might be in for it tonight with sugar baby there,” giving them an apologetic look, handing off Isabella’s backpack filled with cloths and the reusable grocery bag with food to Ben. Giving him a tight hug first, moving to Pope before ending with Will and Isabella giving your little girl a kiss on the forehead. “No, tattoo’s or piercings,” jokingly said a hitch in your voice at seeing her go.

It's the first time she’ll sleep somewhere that’s not her room it makes your chest tighten in worry. Though you know good well that all three men would protect her with their lives.

Slinging an arm around your shoulder as you all walk outside, “Don’t worry Y/N we got this have a good time tonight and know that Isa is taken care of.”

“Three men and a baby huh?” recalling Pope’s earlier comment. “My only question? Which one of you is Tom Selleck?” trying to shake the nerves, using jokes to set everyone including yourself at ease.

“Who and what are you talking about?” Benny chimed in opening the back door of the truck to place Isabella in her car seat.

“Guttenberg,” saying the same thing together, you and Pope laugh wrapping an arm around your shoulders for a half hug placing a kiss to your temple. “You’re too young to remember plus it’s chick flick,” quickly moving away from your pinching fingers.

“They’ve finally cracked, I don’t know what did it but they’ve cracked I tell ya,” Ben playfully mourned only to have Will slam the door almost in his face.

“Guess that leaves you as Selleck and me Danson,” Will snarks with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s get this jalopy rollin the Roadhouse waits.”

“Don’t you even,” giving him a dirty look to which Will just grins, closing the door before you can throw anything at him. “Keep those two in line please Santi.”

Chuckling, “Don’t worry cariño, princesa is in good hands,” stepping away Pope turns to give you one last wave. “See you tomorrow sometime, just ah let us know when you’re done fuckin don’t want to bring Isa back too soon.” Ducking the mound of dirt you toss at him with a smile on his devilishly handsome face.

With a wave, you watch them go sigh leaving your lips feeling a little lost without Isabella around. Pocket vibrating breaks you from those thoughts, the guitar solo at the beginning of Angel by Aerosmith starts to play making you smile. Frankie asked you when you made it his ringtone why you picked a song that’s more suited for your ringtone. Shaking your head arms wrapped around his neck explaining that he’s your angel who saved you from yourself. Showing you that despite your size, the past you had you’re worth loving worth cherishing. It took a while for you to actually believe him but once you did, having Frankie Morales as your angel did wonders for your confidence and self-love.

“Hello, my angel,” answering while heading back too inside to get the steaks on the grill and check on the fireplace.

Leaning against the metal outside wall, one leg bend to press into the builds side, “I think you have that backwards hermosa.” Deep chuckle sounding from his lips, making you shiver despite the warmth of the house. “Pope come get our little one?”

A shiver of pleasure runs down your body at the sound of his voice, smile blooming widely. “Nope flyboy, my angel happens to actually have metal wings,” giggling leaning against the counter for a moment. “He did, enlisted the help of Benny and Will for the night too,” checking the clock to see you have just enough time to get the steaks and corn grilled along with a quick shower. “Can I expect you at the normal time?” hoping that his asshole boss wouldn’t keep Frankie any longer than a few minutes.

Bent knee shaking to a beat that’s none existent. His nerves shouldn’t eat at him but the small velvet box rattling around in his pocket gets heavier by the moment. Pulling it out to flip the top still a little unsure if you’ll truly like it. Sunlight caught the round cut chocolate diamond, simply done in rose gold with two trellis of white diamonds cascade down either side. Having bought the ring months back, paying it off a little at a time. Getting lucky by sneaking one of your much-loved rings out to get it sized and back before you noticed it missing. Even hint asking to find out what kind of gems you preferred. Surprised when you tell him about the chocolate diamond. Finding the beautiful stone on a birthday present run with your best friend to the local jewelry store. One that almost matched his eyes and reminded you of him. Soft blush dusted his cheeks at your words that night when you explained tucking away that tidbit of information for later.

As later came, he went to that very jeweler finding the perfect ring he hoped you’ll love. Above that he prays you’ll say yes to being his wife and mother to his daughter. The very thought of you saying no constricts his heart in a vise grip. One he’s sure will squeeze the organ till there’s nothing left but a hole where you once resided.

“Frankie?” frowning when no answer comes from the other side of the line. “Everything all right flyboy?”

Clearing his throat and closing the ring box to stow it back in his pants pocket, “Yes, mi amor everything’s perfect. Sam time as usual, since all the work’s completed there’s just clean up and inventory left.”

“Don’t be too long baby I’ll have dinner waiting for us, I’ve got a date after all,” teasing tone that’s touched by humor. Knowing you could take this one of two ways and deciding on the provoking one. “My book boyfriend is lonely without me.”

Groaning, shaking his head and readjusting the cap covering his hair, “Woman you’re teasing again remember what happened this morning when you tormented me. The promise I made you?” Licking his lips at the very thought, “I’m getting my dessert tonight and making you scream my name for everyone to hear.”

“Promises, promises flyboy I think you’re all talk and no action,” knowing you shouldn’t be teasing him but couldn’t help yourself. Especially when that sexy growl vibrates over the phone making you weak kneed.

Smiling, Frankie pushes away from the wall needing to get back to work so he could get home to you. “No promise sweetheart just facts,” hating to hang up. “I’ve gotta go mi amor, see you tonight, I love you.”

“I love you to Frankie, I’ll see you tonight. Now go finish work there’s a present waiting for you when you get home.” Biting your bottom lip, insecurities rising like bile in that back of your throat. Hope and fear warring in your mind after hanging up with Frankie.

Trying not to dwell on those thoughts while getting the steaks and corn cooked. Once finished you add them to the oven along side the potatoes on warm. Stopping in the living room to check the fireplace and arrange the blankets laying them out for maximum comfort. Heading to the shower to clean up quickly.

Thirty minutes later, body lotions, hair dry and lingerie in place, putting his camo robe over. You check for what felt like the hundredth time the clock on the wall. Seconds ticking by till Frankie comes home and you’re desperately trying to choose a spot for him to find you in. Laying first by the fire but figuring that didn’t look right. Choosing next to lean against the entrance wall just shy of the door, shaking that idea off as it could expose you to anyone walking down the side walk. The kitchen popped up just causally draped over a chair or the counter. Sighing in frustration when none of the places look right. Till that proverbial lightbulb goes off and your grabbing the book you’ve read for the last couple of nights. Laying on the couch, one leg bent at the knee to show off your bare legs, robe open just enough to display a touch of cleavage and the book open but you’re not really reading.

Listening for the moment you hear the key slide home into lock, door opening, “Y/N, hermosa where you hiding?” Voice deep and soothing to your nerves a smile tugging your lips upward at the frustrated growl that reverberates from his chest.

Itching to raise up, show yourself to him but the imp side has you staying in place on display for him. Catching the sound of boots toed off, keys dropped in the little ceramic bowel. Tracking his sock covered footsteps guessing he’s peeked into the kitchen when a soft groan meets your ears. Letting you know his nose took in the smell of dinner. Bottom lip caught between your teeth again patience wearing thin as excitement courses through your veins. Bare foot dancing to the tune of nerves as you peek over to see Frankie’s shadow in the kitchen. Hearing the oven open then close smirk sliding over your lips as another rumble of a groan sounds.

Soft giggles touch his ears, strong legs eat the distance from the kitchen into the living room. Seeing the fireplace alight, “Please tell me you didn’t…” train of thought crashing when his eyes drop to see you laid out so beautifully for him. Pink tongue coming out to wet his lips, chocolate pools darkening, the twitching in his jeans making itself known.

Growing even more pronounced with the slow trek your eyes take. Starting at his waist, couch hiding anything lower from your view, licking your lips to trap the bottom one between your teeth. Seemingly a permanent home for the abused lip. Trailing over his shirt covered chest, thick tanned neck that your wanting to nibble. Over his strong jaw and patchy beard, smirk in place when you see his lips parted in shock. Though a part of you worried it’s more because of how little you’re wearing, baring your thick, curvy body to his eyes. However, those thoughts died a very painful death as heat slips into its place with how he’s truly looking at you.

Unable to keep the gasp from leaving your lips with how desire darken his eyes have become, the crinkling of leather meeting your ears. Making your eyes drop to the callused hands gripping the back of the couch so tightly, knuckles white with the tension and you wonder for a moment if it’ll be ripping soon. Returning your eyes to his, making sure he’s still watching when you return to reading that same paragraph you’ve tried to finish for the last twenty minutes. Loud growl is the only warning you get before the paper bound volume in your hands is ripped away and tossed over his shoulder.

“Frankie,” trying to infuse a little bit of anger into your cadence. But to your own ears it just sounds breathless and needy. Swallowing hard you rise knowing the robe is opened more baring your black lace covered breasts to his gaze. Going to stand but a hand on your shoulder stops you, sliding down to your arm and tugging you to turn. Kneeling into the couch, the only thing between you both except clothing of course. “Dinner’s ready.”

Still staring at you, drinking in the sight of your body half exposed to his eyes. Chest raising quickly with every breath you take, the soft smile on your lips that you lick and make him groan. “I don’t want dinner mi amor,” placing hands on either shoulder to push the robe from your body.

Pooling at your waist the knot still holds fast, “Oh than what do you want mi Rey?”

“You,” simple word never held so much need and want packed into one syllabi, eyes held to yours. Palms sliding over your skin, talented fingers brush under the lace strap perched on your shoulder. Drawing it down to rest on your bicep, breath hitching when he leans in to place a kiss to where it previously resided.

Hands going to cup the back of his neck, toying with the short curls under the baseball cap. Head lulling to the side, giving him access to the sensitive skin of your neck. Taking advantage and rubbing his lips over the soft skin. Bearded cheek tickling, making your squirm wanting to pull away but also enjoying the slight burn. One arm stay’s at his neck while the other moves between your bodies giving a little push to his chest. Making another growl vibrate through his body and into yours. Arms coming around your waist to pull you even closer. Teeth ghosting that little spot just under your ear he knows will make you weak. Placing his lips right there to suck a mark while his hands drop to palm your ass and squeeze. A touch of frustration sings through his veins at not having you pressed against his body fully.

Trying to gather your scattered wits, body thumping with a desperate need, “Frankie,” short whine leaving a dry throat, you try to push him back once more. Not really wanting him to move but the position your both in is only making things difficult.

“Want me to stop?” Breathing the words into your ear, warm air making a shiver race down your spine.

Whimpering, “No, but I’d much rather want you closer and not this couch between us.” Loosening his grip on your body, you reluctantly pull back grabbing his ball cap along the way. Soft giggle leaving your lips as you dart out of the reach of his hands. Almost slipping from the couch backwards, managing to catch yourself and get up while placing the cap on your head. Eyeing Frankie as he stands where you left him though leaning forward, as if to jump over the couch to get to you.

Swallowing hard, heat rising over your skin in the best of ways with how he’s staring at you. An idea pops into your head, fingers going to the knot at your waist. His eyes following the path pausing for a moment to take in your heaving chest, nipples pebbled tight beneath the lace. Licking his lips at the sight before trailing lower to watch with held breath. While nimble fingers untie the knot, letting the Terry cloth fall to pool at your bare feel. Hands itching to wrap around your nearly naked form. To hide from those slowly tracing eyes.

That make there way back up to your face, hunger, desire, love all warring deeply in those swirling dark chocolate eyes. “Hermosa esposa,” (Beautiful wife.) words spoken almost reverently. Drinking in the sight of your body, wrapped in sheer black lace that hides nothing from his eyes, wearing his much loved ball cap. Only served to have a streak of possessiveness dance across his mind. Bottom lip caught between his teeth eyes watching caught in the trance that is your beauty with every step you take.

Swallowing, your feet having a mind of there own as they make the short trek around the couch to stop just shy of reaching him. “Like what you see Frankie?” Worrying your bottom lip, nerves have you fidgeting under the intense stare. Keeping your hands at your sides first then clasping them behind your back. The action pushing your chest out which draws his attention, trying to keep himself from drooling.

Knowing you’ve said something, asked him a question but his brain doesn’t fire off any response. Instead he steps forward, brushing his fingers over your collarbone, touch light as those deliciously callused digits ghost the skin of your shoulders and down your arms. Wrapping strong limbs around your thick waist to haul you against his strong frame. Gasp leaves your lips that he takes advantage of and swoops in for a kiss that’s anything but delicate.

Fierce and demanding, pressing his mouth to yours leading with his tongue that goes in to taste and mate with yours. Toying with the muscle before sucking harshly, tasting coffee, something sweet and a flavor that’s all your own. Pulling a moan from deep within your chest that bubbles up at the same time your arms wrap around Frankie’s neck. Pulling him closer wanting to merge the two of you together. His strong body pressing you into the couch, wondering for a moment when you turned, but not caring. As his kiss stole all thought and reason from your mind, turning you to mush in his arms.

Air becoming a needed commodity making the two of you break apart gasping and resting your foreheads together. “Cariño you can’t wear things like this when I come home.” Pulling back just a little only too groan at the innocently sexy expression in your eyes.

“Surprise,” tugging at the curls getting a low grunt from the man wrapped around you. “So next time you rather I’m naked spread out on the kitchen table?” Teasingly running your hands up and down his back. Stopping to slide both hands in the back pockets of his jeans, cupping his ass to bring him against your pelvis.

“Mierda,” head dropping to your shoulder, the bite of the zipper against his cock making him hiss. Needing inside you wanting to make you sing his name for everyone to hear. Panting for breath, “The guys find out about that and they will never eat at the table again.”

Soft giggles brush his ear, turning your head to press your lips to the shell, “You did say I was your dessert.”

“I did, didn’t I,” wicked smirk sliding over his lush lips, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to rock against your soaked panty covered folds. Letting you feel how hard you’ve made him, the throb of his shaft beating a rhythm only you can dance too.

Head tossing back at the feeling, you use that leg to pull him impossibly closer rocking your hips slowly. Lips pressed against his neck, flicking your tongue out to taste the sweat tinged musky skin. Hands moving to his shoulders under the fabric of the red and black plaid to push it from his body down his arms and adding it to the growing pile. Tracing little patterns over his chest soft smirk in place when your fingers brush over his nipples making him hiss at the contact. Lower to the hem of his beige t-shirt clinging to his skin, sliding your fingers under the fabric to tease the warm flesh.

“I’m your surprise baby, you’re in charge of where this goes,” low growl leaves his lips at your words, making your head spin in desire. That floods your panties with slick and a need to have the man standing in front of you.

Hands start to dance up his chest, when he bends cupping your ass with both hands and hauling you against his body tighter. Looking over your shoulder to see blankets spread out over the floor in front of the roaring fireplace. “That for us sweetheart?” You nod as he trails one hand around to slide between your thighs and over the soaked gusset of your panties sliding two fingers under the edge and over your puffy swollen lips. “This all because of me?”

“You’re to smug Morales,” bitting your bottom lip to keep from moaning. Hips however have a mind of their own as they rock over his questing fingers. “You know that book boyfriend is kinda talented…” rest of the sentence swallowed by the moan exited from your throat. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder a shutter racking your frame with the teasing slide of those thick work calluses fingers through your soaked folds.

Circling your clit with the tips to give a jolting pinch at the mention of your ‘other’ boyfriend. “Seems I have some competition,” dark chuckle leaving his throat at the same time a whimper leaves yours when he pulls his fingers free to suck clean. Helping you place the leg from his waist to the floor before taking you over to the fireplace.

Shivers skate across your body at the deep cadence of his tone, the dark promise of what he’s got planned making slick flood your core and drip down your quivering thighs. Fascinated by how deep his chocolate browns have become while staring into those beloved eyes.

Soft gasp pulled from the back of your throat with his hand upping your cheek, brushing his fingers over the soft skin, free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. “When did you get this little number? Better yet why didn’t you take me with you while picking it out?” Dropping his head to the crook of your neck nose brushing over your skin, drawing in the jasmine scent that’s burned into his memory as yours alone. Making his cock throb dangerously.

Swallowing harshly, “A few weeks ago,” head lulling to the side to give him access. Your own hands returning to that patch of skin just under his shirt. Short nails leaving little tracks over his flesh, marking him as yours. “I ordered it online, first time I’ve worn it other than trying on.”

“Next time I’m gonna be there to watch you try things on,” nibbling kisses dot your neck and shoulder. His path haphazardly moving to the hollow of your throat, biting down on the sensitive skin and leaving his own purpling mark behind. Sweet moans leave you lips a shiver of arousal pours through your veins at the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to.

“I’d never get anything tried on if your there flyboy,” nickname rolling off your tongue, brushing your hands higher dragging the shirt with wanting it off. Tracing little patterns with your fingers to brush over both nipples. Making another sharp hiss leave his lips that rest against your collarbone. Breath fanning out hot and moist over your body trying to focus on giving you pleasure. Yet with each brush of those skillful hands he finds himself getting weaker to your advances. Desperately needing inside you, all those lovely noises you make music to his ears. Taking advantage of the moment you pull back to tug his shirt off tossing it somewhere behind you. Pausing to admire the man who’s captured your heart. Drinking in the sight of his tanned skin, soft yet muscular body gleaming in the firelight.

You’re truly in awe of this man and so caught up tracing each piece of him you don’t realize he’s stepped closer till warm hands grip your waist. Inching the sheer lace up your body till he gets a peek at the lacy black matching cheeky panties your wearing. Hands gliding around to cup your ass, giving you a hard squeeze, drawing another moan from your lips. Eyes sliding closed as your body sways to lean against him. “Your right cariño you wouldn’t because you don’t need these lacy clothes to tease me. Your mire present does that. You make me rock hard and all you have to do is whisper my name.” Voice taking on an octave lower, filled with a longing and love for you alone.

“Frankie,” voice low, filled with a deep arousal you try to contain, his words making your heart flutter with love. Knees weakening to the point your sagging against him. Wanting to state the fact he’s got the same power over you. Voice like silk over your skin, making butterflies flutter in your tummy, tingles dance through your body and heat pools low, dampening your panties. “That damn voice.”

Dark chuckle leaves his lips, hands coming back to bunch the lace in his fists to pull it from your body, joining his shirt. He takes one step back to return the admiration of your body. Fire light dancing off the dips and valleys, highlighting the stiff peaks of your nipples begging for his mouth to worship the soft swells of your breasts and tummy. How your shyly try to turn away but stay still at the same time. The down turn of your chin however makes a frown appear and a dangerous growl leave his chest.

Reaching out two fingers to grip your chin raising it and making you look into his eyes. “Beautiful mi amor, you’re stunning, never think you have to hide your body from me,” letting go of your chin to trace a path down your cheek, between the valley of your breasts and around your waist. Pulling you flush against him, feeling his rough body hairs brushing against your softer skin. The satisfaction of having him pressed so intimately soothes all the nerves and dark thoughts making them run squealing back to where they came from. The affirmation of his words through his touch sets your blood on fire with a need to please him. To show him how thankful to have him in your life rises like a tidal wave.

Cresting the moment you lean in starting to place kisses along his jawline, searching for every spot that draws a moan from his lips. However, Frankie doesn’t let you get very far instead he pulls you back, helping you to sit on the pallet of blankets before the fire. On his knees, he takes the cap from your head placing it on the coffee table behind him. Cupping your cheeks between his large hands, watching you watch him. To lean in for a kiss that’s so achingly tender it has a shiver running over your body that’s got nothing to do with being cold. Arms going around his neck to pull him against you. Teasing the tip of his tongue against the seam of your lips that you open on a sigh.

Taking that moment to slip his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth. Tangling your tongues together as your noses brush and angle trying to find the right place to draw in air without having to break apart. When he does your bottom lip becomes caught between his teeth, nibbling the delicate skin, gathering air to dive back in. This time it’s deeper, demanding those little moans from you. He’s rewarded with one that’s dragged from the depths of your soul making a smile tug at the edges against his lips.

Both gasping for breath, clinging to each other, he noses your chin, running his lips over the delicate skin searching out your mouth again. Drunk on your kisses, the feeling of your hands fisting in his hair, clutching him closer. “Lay back for me hermosa,” opening his eyes to stare at you. Seeing the indecision war with the need to give instead of receive. “You said I’m in charge tonight right?” Nodding not trusting your voice to anything other than totally wrecked right now. “Use your words mi alma.”

“Yes,” swallowing thickly seeing the desire darkened chocolate eyes bore into your own. A shiver skating across your body at the promise those beloved eyes held. “Yes, I did my love, but you don’t…” he doesn’t let you finish that thought.

Instead pressing his lips back against yours unhurried. Taking slow sips from your mouth, nibbling your lips, dipping into the warm cavern for little tastes. Making whimpers of need push from your chest as you rub your thighs together for some kind of friction. Warm work roughen hands cup your breasts, giving the soft globes a gentle squeeze. His thumbs circle the peeking nipples before trapping it between it and the index finger. Giving a hard pinch that’s just this side of pleasurable pain. The little tug going straight to your core, knowing you love how he’s playing you body. Making your back arch against his hand a mewl of need leaving your lips.

Abandoning your mouth to trail nibbling kisses across your jawline, “I want to mi amor, you’re a goddess and I’m here to worship at your temple.” Breath falling over your neck as those words have a shiver running down your body. Heating the skin, heart thumping behind your rib cage he traces with those wicked fingertips.

Moving between your legs, rough blue jean fabric abrading the inside of your thighs as he hovers over you. Watching with passion filled eyes, tongue coming out to wet those kiss swollen lips you know you’ll never get enough of. Arms go to wrap around his neck to pull him down to you, but he shakes his head taking both wrists in one of his large hands to place them above your head.

“Leave them right there sweetheart because if you touch me now I won’t get to taste you,” desperation laces his voice making the cadence drop an octave and drawing a shuttering breath from your lungs.

Never have you seen this look in those beloved eyes as the one right now, pinning you to the blanket covered floor. Body squirming under that dark gaze, thighs rubbing as fresh slick coats your already drenched panties. “Please,” back arching to press your chest into his hands, desperate to have him in some kind of way. Not above begging to get what you want either, “Frankie I need you,” words coming out on a needy whimper.

“Patience mi amor I’m a starving man who’s just discovered his favorite dessert,” lips tipped up in a smirk. Resuming his path over your skin. Leaving goosebumps in his wake of teeth nibbling your flesh, sucking kisses placed in spots he knows only serve to make you moan and sigh. His name a whimpered plea from your bitten lips.

Till reaching the mounds of your breasts, taking one taut nipple between his lips. Sucking sharply and receiving a keening moan that surges straight to his cock. The throbbing pulse robbing a grunt from his chest though he tries to stay unaffected. Your breathy gasps and mewling whimpers start to drive him crazy with passion. Switching to the neglected breast while tugging with his fingers on the abandoned one. Tip of his tongue flicking over the peeked nipple before biting down at the same time his fingers tug the twin. Remembering how sensitive your breasts are and playing them like a skilled master.

His teasing pulls another shuttering breath from your lungs, sweat glistening over your body. Warmth filling your belly with those familiar tingles, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment drinking in the pleasure Frankie brings to your body. Short gasps and moans leave your parted lips as you try to brag air in your starving lungs. Feeling the first strings of an orgasm start to sing through your veins, knowing he’s trying to kill you sweetly with his mouth. Only to have your eyes fly open and look down when he bites the gentle swell of your tummy. Nuzzling the soft flesh with his nose, his eyes lock with yours. Fingers grasping the band of your panties to peel them down.

Placing kisses over each inch that’s bared to his hungry gaze. Tongue swirling around your belly button to dip in and nip before placing a kiss just before your soaked, puffy cunt. Impatience rides him hard, wanting to rip the flimsy material from your body. But also wanting you to wear them again. Biting back a groan of frustration he moves to the side pulling the fabric from your body, flinging it behind him. Pausing to taking in your beauty even as you squirm under the intense look in those gorgeous eyes.

So enrapt by your beauty he doesn’t notice your hands coming down to shield yourself feeling a little self-conscious, till they partially cover your breasts. “Don’t,” the word coming out on a sharp growl that has your eyes snapping back to his. “Don’t ever feel like you have to hide from me Y/N. You’re gorgeous mi amor,” voice rough with unspoken emotions that show in the tight clinch of his jaw. Eyes that drink in every inch of your plush body.

One hand intertwine’s with yours to bring down against the prominent bulge in his jeans. Hissing when you cup his shaft and squeeze. “You feel what you do to me cariño, what your body does to me?” Seeing you nod, swallowing hard as your fingers tip toe up to above the waist band of his jeans. Drawing your nails lightly over his tummy, watching as he sucks in then exhales making you smile.

Nimble fingers making quick work with the button and zipper, hand slipping inside the material feeling the throb of his cloth covered cock against the tips of your fingers. Before he pushes them away making you pout at the loss. “Put that lip away sweetheart you’ll get your chance later,” smirk making its way back over his handsome features. Hands placed over your collarbone to draw them down over your curves pausing to dip his head down. Drawing his teeth over the soft flesh of your hips, hands sliding under you to cup your ass. Giving the generous globes a squeeze while sliding down to his belly.

Groaning when the blanket covered floor makes contact with his erection, moist breath panting over the skin of your hip. Forehead resting on your lower belly to gather himself for a moment. Savoring the softness of your body under him, filling his work roughened hands. Lips worshiping the parts of you that at times make you want to cover and hide. Dipping his tongue along your folds grinning when another keening moan leaves your mouth on a gasp. Back arching to meet his mouth, one arm presses you back down wrapping around your thigh to hold you in place.

Using those skilled fingers to tease the pearl of your clit. Bullying the little nub with light circling pressure that has stars bursting behind your tightly closed libs. Teeth baring to sink into the flesh of your thigh, leaving marks behind for you to feel tomorrow when your walking a little funny because of him. Repeating the same treatment to the twin thigh while semi ignoring the place you want him most. Only those talented fingers keep with light touches. That serve to drive you crazy with need and want. Trying to buck against him silently demanding more but held in place by his strong arms around your thick thighs. Baring your pussy to his gaze, licking his lips he leans forward to draw just the tip of his tongue from entrance to clit through your folds. Making a soft scream leave your body, smirk sliding back into place.

That’s still there when you raise your head to look down at him, “Pay back baby…” gasping unable to form the last few words as his fingers have spread your folds. His lips attaching to your clit and sucking harshly, tongue flicking like the beating wings of a hummingbird. Another scream bouncing off the walls as your first orgasm rushes through your system catching you by surprise. Gasping for breath, fingers fisting the blankets below you, tight coil having sprung so quickly your eyes rolled back into your head.

“Hmm that’s one hermosa I think you can give me another before you take my cock,” chuckling the vibrations shooting through your body making you shake. You try to answer, the words disappear on another whimper, body sensitive to his touches.

Frankie unwraps his right hand from your thigh, fingers teasing along the seam of your body where thigh meets pelvis. Watching with hooded eyes as you gasp once more trying to collect yourself. Though he doesn’t give you a moment to think, sliding one finger inside your fluttering walls, thrusting slowly. Left hand spreading your folds as his tongue attacks your clit, slowly this time. Giving light little kitten licks, circling with the pointed tip before flicking the throbbing pearl. Crooking the finger inside you to press that little spot with each pass. Adding a second to stretch you open, groaning against your folds, “So tight for me mi amor, every fucking time, God.” Eyes dropping down to watch his fingers disappear inside your tight quivering walls. Curses leaving his lips in broken Spanish his hips rutting against the floor needing relief from the throbbing of his cock.

He stays transfixed by the sigh of your cunt taking his fingers, the wet sounds with each thrust, the way your thighs shake around him. He adds a third finger, your voice meeting his ears. Though all he can make out if his name and please. Sparing a glance upward his breath catching at what he’s witnessing. Your hands cupping and massaging both your breasts, fingers tugging and pinching the nipples in time with his fingers. The sight burned into his memory one he’ll gladly keep and try to repeat many times over. Seeing you so wanton and free like this bolsters his ego knowing he’s the reason your on display in such a manner. Even as a spark of possessiveness cuts through never wanting anyone else to experience you in this way.

Sensing eyes watching you, you raise your head to insnare his gaze, licking your lips slowly as your breath catches. Tingles dancing over your body at the way he’s mastered your pleasure. Giving you just what you need and when. Feeling almost as full with his fingers as with his cock though you crave having him deep inside you. But also knowing he won’t give you those desires till you’ve cum once more. Head dropping your back bows when his talented lips seal over your clit. Tongue lapping at the little nub and drawing different patterns to make you see stars explode behind those closed lids. His name chanted to the ceiling while those wicked fingers draw out your pleasure with each stroke and crook. Brushing that hidden spot no man other than Frankie has ever found. A moaning, withering mess under the man’s skilled mouth and hands. That coil tightening in your belly threatening to snap any second.

Caught between wanting the delicious torture to end but also to continue being the pleasurable pain masochist you’ve become. All at once it becomes too much and not enough, hands shoot down to clutch at Frankie’s head. Tugging his hair and pressing him closer as your orgasm washes over you, his name a scream ripped from your mouth. Breath gasping from your lungs, body shattering around his tongue and fingers. You try to push him away, cunt oversensitive from the two orgasms he’s brought you.

Yet he continues tormenting you, with slow thrusts of his fingers, little laps of his tongue. Drawing out your orgasm, working you through each shuttering after shock. Till your spent, hands dropping to your side, eyes closed as you trying to control your breathing. Pulling his drenched fingers from your quivering walls to suck them clean. Humming in satisfaction at your tangy essence, placing one more kiss to your quivering clit making you jump at the contact and moan at the feel, proud chuckle leaving Frankie’s glistening lips.

Placing kisses as he moved up your body, hovering over you once more. A shutter racing over his frame when your legs wrap around his trim waist, feet crossing at the small of his back to press his swollen jeans covered cock against your tender folds.

“You’re pretty proud of yourself huh Morales?” Lashes fluttering just peeking up at him to see the smirk forming on his lips. Wanting to be cross with him for all the teasing but couldn’t summing the energy. Fingers carding through his hair tugging at the mahogany strands to bring his mouth down against yours. Tasting the remains of your essence when your tongue dips into his mouth. Mating with his in a dance that pulls a groan from the man above you.

Hands tracing patterns over his back feeling the muscles shift, short nails lightly digging into his skin as your hips rut in slow circles against his groin. Your own smirk forming when you feel the shutter roll down his body. Detaching his mouth from yours to rest your foreheads together, breath fanning over your face as he tries to hold back just a bit longer. “Now who’s proud of themselves hermosa?”

Giving a small shrug, one hand coming around to glide up his chest. Brushing over his nipple before wrapping around his neck. “I’d say it’s pretty equal now. Though you’re a little over dressed my love,” free hand sliding down to his ass and giving a squeeze.

Wrapping his arms around you, Frankie rolls the both of you over, hands going to behind his head. Dark eyes watching you sit up, straddling his waist, wet folds pressing against his throbbing cock. “Undress me princesa.”

“Do I get to take my time with you flyboy?” Leaning down to place a chaste kiss to his lips, making sure you rub your body against his. Knowing he’s having a hard time containing himself, catching the way his hands are fisting under his head. “I could really draw this out, pay you back,” with each word you place a kiss. Starting just under his chin, to the pulse point on his neck. Nibbling that little spot for a moment to suck a mark. Moving on to flick each nipple, giving little bites to his sternum. Feeling rather than hearing the growl vibrate through his chest.

Glancing up to ensnare his eyes, lips pressing into his tummy more times than there are words. Nuzzling the thin line of wiry hair leading down and under his jeans. “Oh look a map it’s a little thin but it seems to lead me to what I want.” Grinning at the groan echoing from his throat, rubbing your cheek into his skin.

Fingers making quick work of the button, slowly lowering the zipper, hands slipping under the fabric to push from his hips. Leaving his boxer briefs on for now while working those sinfully sexy jeans from his body, depositing the behind you. Sitting on your knees between his legs, drinking in the sight of your love. Running the palms of your hands up his calves to strong trembling thighs, fingers edging the stretchy material that hides little from your imagination. Bracing one hand on his hip you lean down to kiss the very visible patch of wetness. Knowing the crown of his cock rests beneath, lips much like this morning teasing the sensitive head. As your fingers tip toe up to pull down the band of his underwear. Baring his shaft to your hungry glaze, yanking the undergarment down his legs and straddling his right thigh. Rubbing yourself over the quivering muscle that flex’s with the touch of your wet cunt against his skin.

“Shit ba… baby please,” whimper leaving his lips at the feel of your soft lips brushing over the crown. Warm breath making him twitch in need, hands having come from under his head to fist the blankets below. Knowing he won’t last long with how your teasing and tormenting him. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when the warmth of your mouth engulfs the crown. Free hand stroking his shaft, pulling the foreskin back to reveal the sensitive cock head to your lips. Tongue finding that one little spot just under the crown which never fails to make him lose his shit.

Hips thrusting upwards filling your gapping jaw having prepared yourself for that very moment and relaxed to take him down. Saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, coating your fingers helping to lubricate your movements. A whine leaves the back of your throat when Frankie pulls you off his cock, catching sigh of the wrecked look on his face. The trembling of his body, the curses slipping from his lips in a mix of Spanish and English.

“Can’t wait hermosa, need to be inside you, need you to ride me,” voice desperate and cracking. Not pausing in his movements to line you up, knees on either side of his waist. Like a rag doll you let him position you where he wants, not coming back to yourself till you feel the bunt tip of his cock run through your folds.

“Frankie…” calling out to try and gain his attention through the desire fogged brain. Unsure of the position, one that you’ve never tried together. Though you couldn’t say it not one you hadn’t thought about. You just didn’t want to hurt him by being on top.

Shaking his head, positioning your body over his throbbing length. One hand wrapping around the base, long light strokes as he lines himself up. Even with his passion hazed mind, he knows your wanting to disagree with him. Making him sit up, cupping the back of your neck, “My choice mi amor I want to feel you around me, watch you bounce on my cock. See these beautiful eyes,” tracing his fingers to your cheek, brushing over your closed lids. “I want to watch you take your pleasure from me. Please mi ángel,” voice deep and tinged with want.

Lifting your lashes to stare at Frankie, using his shoulders to raise up as he teases your folds with his cock. Brushing over your clit, making you tremble in his arms before lining yourself up and sinking down slowly. Till your thick thighs are pressed against his hips, head tossed back at feeling so full. The slight burn of being stretched by his cock never fails to make you shutter in his arms.

“So fucking wet, tight,” muttering the two words over while burying his face in your neck. Arms wrapping around your waist as yours move to wrap around his shoulders pressing your bodies together. Letting the fullness feeling wash over you, consuming your body. The steady throb of that vein reverberating through your system making you whimper, rolling your hips against his groin.

“Baby please I need to move,” little whines leaving you lips a gasp wrenched from the depths of your soul when he lays back pressing his cock even deeper inside you. Large hands on your hips grounding him, watching with hooded eyes. Feet planted to thrust slowly up into your quivering walls, filling you so completely you don’t know where you end and he begins. Not that you care at the moment, as your worry melts away with the tender heated look he’s giving you.

“Ride me sweetheart,” bottom lip trembling before caught between his teeth. Watching you place a hand on the center of his chest. Rising up till just the cock head rests in the circle of your fluttering walls. Slowly sinking back down teasing the both of you with long deep strokes, moaning when he brushes over your g-spot each time.

Eyes rolling back a gasp leaves your lips when warm hands come up to cup and massage your breasts. Tugging the peaked nipples making your walls squeeze his shaft tighter. A groan forced from his parted lips at the feeling. Watching the way your features morph in pleasure, biting your bottom lip with eyes tightly closed.

“Look at me hermosa,” the command is hard to ignore combined with the tugs of his fingers at your nipples making you gasp. You slowly do as he asked entranced by the way he’s watching. Tongue coming out to wet his parched lips, breath catching in his throat at the sigh you present him. Sweat coating his forehead, dripping down the side of his face, chest glistening as you take him in. Hungry eyes devouring the look of pleasure, the needy little grunts expelled from his mouth. “Lean back on my knees I wanna watch my cock disappear into that pretty cunt of yours.”

Whimpering, pausing your movements to do as he asks. Bracing yourself with hands on either side of you on the floor. Pressing your back against his bent knees that have lowered just a fraction so your spread out backwards on display for his eyes. Hips rolling against his groin, body undulating against him the movements slow and delicate. Filled with a passionate abandonment that never fails to make Frankie smile. Head tossed back gasping breath leaving your parted lips, forgetting about everything that’s not centered on Frankie and the movement of your hips.

“So beautiful amor,” licking his lips, hand moving down to circle the little pulsing pearl with light pressure. Watching you quiver around him, feeling your walls squeeze his shaft, almost to the point of sucking him in deeper. Eyes glued to the apex of your thighs, observing how his cock disappears while his fingers draw different patterns over your clit. The sight nearly making him cum right then combined with the noises your making he knows it’s not long before he’s falling into the arms of pleasure.

Siting up unable to keep his hands and mouth from you any longer, Frankie wraps his arm around your shoulders bringing you down with him. Mouth’s attached in a deep tangling of a kiss that’s pulling small little mewling whines and whimpers from you. Keeping his fingers on your clit tapping and circling making you gasp into his mouth. All the more with the vise like grip of his free arm around your waist holding you in place as his hips thrust upwards. In quick and deep punishing thrusts, chasing that high only you can give him but first he wants you to see the stars. Knowing your getting closer with each thrust, the tight clinch of your walls around his shaft, making him grit his teeth.

With that thought and a need for air you break apart, lips going to your ear, “So fucking good to me mi amor,” groaning breathless. “Taking my cock like a good girl, letting me fuck you like this. Christ the things you make me feel mi vida. I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Frankie,” another whimper of his name leaves your lips that your bury into his shoulder. Eyes dropping closed the closer you get to your release. Trying to grasp on to your sanity with each deep, hard stroke he delivers to your body. His words only serving to make you shiver even harder and when he hits that spot you blank. Mouth gapping in a silent scream of his name, release washing over you and coating his cock that keeps hammering into your quivering cunt.

Teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder sucking a mark into the soft skin. Working you through your orgasm as his own begs for release. Balls tightening against his shaft as his hips start to falter in his pace. Hot moist breath leaving his nose that nuzzles the side of your throat over the mark he’s left. Eyes clinch tightly, cock throbbing to his heart beat as he spills his seed deep inside your body.

Both of you are out of breath Frankie moving his hips in short shallow thrusts feeling your combined juices seeping out around his shaft. Groaning when he remembers the one thing he forgot. Hearing the sound you place a kiss to his neck, loopy smile gracing your features. Raising your head to look down at him, hips finally stopped even as the pleasurable after shocks still make your body tremble.

Kissing his chin, nosing that little spot where no beard grows, nipping the skin gently, “Shall I move baby? Am I squishing you?”

“Fuck no you ain’t hermosa and if you don’t stop saying shit like that I’m gonna smack your ass. You feel too damn good laying there and I don’t want to move from inside you.” Realizing what he just said heat floods his cheeks staining them a soft red. “I’m sorry mi ángel, I just don’t like you talking that way about yourself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to keep the moan from escaping at his words, the force of his tone making you clinch around him tightly. Praying he hasn’t felt the change in your demeanor or the way your heart flutters at his words. Though you should’ve known better when thumb and forefinger pinch your chin to rise it from looking at his chest.

“Amor?” Having felt that squeeze around his shaft, making his heart hammer against his ribs. “Does that thought excite you sweetheart?”

Soft whimper leaving your lips with a shake of your head though you focus back on what you’d intended to ask him after hearing the groan. Trying to divert his train of thought away from a newly found kink. “Why’d you groan if not because…” biting your bottom lip when you feel the stinging bite of his hand coming down on your right butt cheek. Chocking on the moan that tries to leave your lips as his fingers rub the offended area. Burying your heated face in his chest that rumbles under your head. “S’not funny Fransisco,” pinching his side getting a yelp that brings a smirk to your lips.

“Woman you should be wore out,” hearing your playful huff. “Hmm seems I have more work to do mi amor, your still able to think and pinch.” Running his hands over your back, rolling the two of you over so he can stare down into your beautiful eyes softening cock slipping from your warm depths. Making you both groan at the loss. “And as to why I groaned a moment ago,” looking sheepish he leans up to kiss your forehead. Leaving his lips pressed there before speaking, “In my haste to have you cariño I forgot to use a condom.”

Thinking for a moment, small chuckle leaving your lips that turns into full giggles you can’t keep inside anymore. Holding onto Frankie tightly, burying your face back into his neck, breathless laughter ghosting over his skin. Frown marring his features when he feels the shaking that turns into confusion as those giggles reach his ears.

“It’s not funny sweetheart we haven’t talked about…” fingers covering his lips to stop the flow of words.

Eyes locking with the worried chocolate orbits, “Frankie my love if we happen to make a baby tonight I would be over the moon with joy. That’s why I’m giggling,” smiling, little chuckles still escaping. “I want to have your child mi rey,” cupping his cheek to bring his lips down to yours. Placing nibbling kisses before a full press slipping your tongue into his mouth, coaxing a moan from deep within. Pleased smile tugging your lips up as you draw back, “Even if it’s not tonight I wouldn’t say no to trying every night.”

“Mi amor,” endearment spoken on the tail end of a moan. Smile so blinding its as if the sun has been captured and brought inside to shine just for you. Holding you close he crashes his lips against yours, taking your moans and swallowing them. Sloppy and fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues, each trying to dominate the other. Till air becomes needed and you break apart gasping for breath. “You sure?” Worry creasing his brow, chocolate eyes filling with uncertainty as he looks at you.

Brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek, leaning up to place your lips over his, “I’m positive Frankie I want to give Isabella a brother or sister to play with.”

Moving off you, hearing the whimper you make, “Don’t move baby I’m not going far.” Reaching for his jeans a nervous smile sliding over his face as he pulls the little black velvet box from the denim. Pausing to flip the lid staring at the chocolate diamond for a moment, till he feels you move soft hand coming to rest on his back.

“Frankie?” Undertone of worry in your voice as you raise up on your knees waiting for him to turn and face you. Bottom lip caught between worrying teeth, fearful that you’ve said the wrong thing. Pushed him too far with the baby comments, Santi’s words coming back to you about marriage and asking Frankie first. Before thinking things through fully the words fall from your lips, “Marry me Morales?”

“What?” Shock coloring his gasp, turning quickly to stare down at you. Swallowing hard, “What did you just ask me?” Trying to keep the box fisted in his hand so you can’t see it yet.

Knowing there’s no reason for these feelings and thoughts to flow through your mind but his quick movements and no real answer causes the doubt to creep in. Eyes downcast not wanting to see the rejection in those chocolate pools you love so much. “I… I… I mean you don’t have to answer it’s just a silly question. I just thought,” biting you lip to keep the tears from slipping out of there ducts.

“What silly question amor?” Fighting the urge to tip your chin up to see your beautiful face. Frankie waits and when you don’t answer he opens his fist in front of you. Flipping the box open, “You mean this question mi vida?”

Gasping, eyes landing on the beautiful ring nestled into the plush black velvet, “Frankie?” Hands coming up to cover your mouth as tears slip free though they’ve changed to happiness as you stare up at him.

“I wanted to ask you differently baby really I wanted to try something a little more romantic. Maybe candles and dinner, down the on one knee” rubbing the back of his neck scrambling for the right words.

“You mean,” hiccuping as a bright smile tugs your lip. “You didn’t plan on proposing to me naked right after we made love?”

Rolling his eyes at your snark, free hand coming over to brush your tears away and cupping your cheek, breath catching when you place your own hand on top. Nuzzling the palm and placing a kiss to the center, “You deserve better, something special, flowers and chocolates and music playing. Not us naked…”

Watery happy smile, placing your other hand over his mouth a moment, “Crap I don’t need Frankie I only want you and Isabella, you’re my life.” Taking a deep breath, scooting closer on your knees till your just a hairs breath away from him, “Yes.”

“I haven’t asked you yet woman you can’t… wait what?” Chocolate eyes shocked wide by that simple little word. He’d hoped you’d say yes, dreamed of it from the moment he fell in love with you. But to hear you say yes still stole his breath and any other words he’d planned to say.

Soft giggles leave your lips, dropping your eyes down to the ring box in his hand and back up to his. Wrapping your arm around his neck to pull his forehead down to yours, carding through the short curls at the back of his head. “Then you better ask me flyboy so you can make an honest woman out of me in case you’ve knocked me up.”

“God sweetheart,” eyes slipping closed for a moment just breathing in your scent and warmth, savoring you, for a few heart beats, until he finally gather’s his wits. “Marry me amor, become my wife mother to Isabella and as many more child’s as you want. I don’t want to live this life without you beside me, please marry me,” whispering he last three words. Heart thumping wildly, fearful it’s all a dream and he’ll wake up back in that rehab with no proper out look for his life.

“Yes Fransisco, yes I’ll marry you, I love you baby. Though,” watching his eyes open to stare back, so many emotions filtering through those beautiful eyes. “I’m not giving birth to five children I’ll leave at least two for you to push out of your dick.”

Gruff laughter leaves his lips, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him, crashing your lips together in a hard, desperate kiss. Ring forgotten till it slips from his fingers in a bid to cup your ass and press you closer.

“We can have as many children as you want amor,” unwrapping his arms to bring the box back to show you. Plucking the band from its snuggled confines. He grasps your left hand bringing it to his lips and kissing the ring finger. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while slipping it on your fourth digit, before dropping to look. “Prefect fit.”

“Just like us,” leaning in to brush your lips over Frankie’s. Smirk gracing your features, “Remember we already have four kids and Isabella’s the mature one.”

Deep happy laughter leaves Frankie’s chest, arms going back around your waist to haul you against his body. Properly sitting with his back against the couch, cradling you in his arms, playful smile on his lips, “Shame that three of them still need house broken.”

“Frankie,” your laughter joining his as you straddle his thighs settling in his lap. Letting your mirth simmer while looking at your ring, still unable to believe you’re gonna be married. “Pinch me,” soft yelp leaves you, trying to summon a glare to direct his way but failing miserably.

“What you asked me to pinch you cariño,” soothing the pain he gave to your ass with the palm of his hand, cupping both generous globes to pull your pelvis flush with his. “Don’t worry I’ll kiss and make it all better baby unless you want something different.” Remembering the way you curved into his hand when he spanked you earlier. The memory of how tightly your quivering cunt gripped his cock, makes a moan leave his lips. Cock throbbing against your slick folds, demanding attention from the moment you straddled his thighs.

Experimentally smacking your ass feeling you quake against him, breath hitching in your throat chocking off a moan. “Frankie,” rocking your hips against his growing shaft. Feeling his fingers dip between your folds finding you soaked and throbbing.

“Like that don’t you baby, like when I smack this beautiful ass of yours,” low growl leaving his lips that attack your neck. Drawing another whimper of need from deep with in your body. “I know you do, can feel it you’ve soaked my fingers and I��ve barely touched you.”

Rubbing your nose against his neck breathing in his scent mixed with the heady scent of sex and sweat. Amazed how he’s flipped from the sweet Frankie to sexual beast mode in seconds. “Don’t tease handsome please,” whimpering, all thought leaving your mind except for the way Frankie’s talented fingers feel. Strumming your body like a master to drag out moans and whines of pleasure.

“As you wish amor,” slipping inside of you slowly, gritting his teeth at the tight squeeze of your walls. “I’m warning you now we’re not getting any sleep tonight baby. I’m gonna have you on every surface of this house I can.”

Smirking, “Promises, promises Morales,” pulling back to stare into his molten chocolate eyes. “Actions,” gasping when he pulls half way out and thrusts back home. Hitting your g-spot, his pelvis moving to rub against your clit deliciously making stars shoot across your vision. Trying to form the rest of the words to tease him, “Speak louder than,” soft scream leaving when he dips to the side rolling the two of you so he’s hovering over you.

Grasping your thighs to push them against your chest, pushing his cock ever deeper inside your depths. Eyes rolling back missing the smirk on his plush lips, “You’re saying amor?” Wedging his upper body between your thighs, legs draped over his shoulders, his knees braced apart for stability. Hovering over you with hands gripping your ass to lift a fraction off the ground and start a punishing pace.

Making good on that truth, neither of you getting much rest that night. Finally eating dinner around mid-night, thankful that Frankie had turned the oven off earlier in the evening. Rewarding him for his thoughtfulness with a blowjob at the dinner table, making good use of the Reddi-whip. In turn Frankie snatched up what was left of the pie having a second helping of his dessert, with you spread out over the kitchen table.

Reliving that moment in your mind you don’t hear the question Santi asks. Only breaking out of the smirk causing memory when Frankie places his hand on your thigh giving a squeeze. Looking from him back to Santi, “Hmm,” clearing your throat with a sip of coffee. “I’m sorry Pope what did you ask?”

Chuckling, “Off daydreaming again cariño, hope it’s as good as the smirk on your face.” Lifting a dark brow, Pope watches you for a moment catching the subtle shift of your body, Frankie’s cheeks dusting red. Guessing the two of you spent much of the night and early morning celebrating. If the marks littering the both of you indication anything accompanied by the way your both leaning against each other.

Thankful he called before driving over with Isabella and eager to hear weather you said yes. Though he knew better than anyone the answer which becomes confirmed while you hugging Will, chocolate diamond glinting in the sunlight filtering through the front door. After a round of hugs, claps on the back and congratulations along with very happy giggles from Isabella everyone settled in the kitchen for coffee.

Drawing your thoughts back from this morning smirk only growing on your face, Frankie leans over, seeing the intent in your side profile, “Don’t do it hermosa.” Warning growl in his tone, hand still on your thigh giving a harder squeeze. Isabella’s little giggles the only answer he receives to the warning, wrapped in her mother’s arms and oblivious to everything except playing with your hair.

“Well Santiago if you must know it’s even better,” chuckling evilly when Frankie groans head landing on your shoulder. Blindly reaching over to cover Isabella’s ears. “Just reliving late last night when Frankie got to have his second dessert.”

Confused for a second, eyes widening comically as he looks from you to the table place he’s currently sitting at and back. “Your telling me,” words sputtering out as he pushes violently backward, chair scratching across the tiled floor. “You could’ve warned a guy Y/N,” shaking his head in part disgust and part amusement. “Tell me you at least disinfected it before we sat down?”

Shrugging, “Where’s the fun in that Pope, besides it’s only fair after all Frankie got to see the stars right there in that chair first.” Licking your lips glancing at both Will and Benny who haven’t caught on yet. The harsh crash of his chair makes you bust out laughing, holding onto the table for support and cleaving into Frankie who’s red as a tomato.

“That’s just… fucking hell,” wiping at this ass and thighs like there’s something there.

Confused till he looked between the two of you, the table and Santiago. Deep groan leaving his lips as he head comes down to rest in his hands, “We eat on this table now it has to be burned.”

“What? Why?” Thinking for a second, comprehension clicking into place Benny jumps up scrubbing his hands along his pant legs. “That’s just wrong so fucking wrong now I have that in may head to. I take back the marriage proposal Y/N, Frankie can have you.” Though the grin on his lips speaks differently. It however doesn’t reach his normally expressive eyes. Hiding a secret he’s kept buried for far to long knowing now there’s no chance of it coming to the light of day.

“How generous of you Benjamin,” playfully rolling your eyes, giggling when you look at Frankie seeing his eyes have narrowed on his friend. You lean over, “No worries flyboy you know you’re the only one.”

Chuckling he places a kiss to your cheek giving you a wink, “I know.” Standing to round the table, “So you proposed to my girl huh?” Trying to infuse a touch of anger to his tone that fails miserably with the grin on his lips. “Dude what happened to the code of friendship huh?”

Stepping back, hands up in mock surrender, playful grin o his chapped lips. “You know I didn’t mean it like that Fish, Y/N’s a sister to me.” Words tasting and sounding bitter to his own ears. Looking too Will and Santi for help, finding none except fake disapproving frowns, arms crossed. Glancing at you and Isabella with a pleading look getting no help.

“Shit,” little voice speaking into the silence every set of adult eyes land on her, giggling follows with little claps of her hands before burying her face in your chest shyly.

Peels of laughter ring out around the kitchen Will beating the table with his fist, head hanging with broad shoulders twitching. Benny and Frankie leaning on each other as tears of mirth slip down their cheeks, Pope leaning against the island to stay standing up right his own body shaking in laughter. While you hold her close laughing, shaking your head at the sight of your family. “Your daddy and uncles are silly little one,” kissing her forehead locking eyes with Frankie when he turns to you. Seeing the love saturating those chocolate eyes, soft grin pulling at his lips.

“I love you mi alma’s,” playfully pushing Benny from his shoulder to come around and kiss both your foreheads.

Reaching up to cup his cheek, bringing him down to touch your lips together in a tender kiss, “I love you to my real soon to be husband.”

Sure you still read get carried away into another world of your books. However, not so deeply that you neglect your husband’s needs and wants along with your own. Besides you know he’s so much better than any old book boyfriend.

THE END

#Frankie Morales smut #Frankie Morales x Plus Size Female Reader #Triple Frontier #Frankie Morales x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x Plus Size F!Reader #Female Reader

81 notes · View notes

philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.02]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 3.5k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla,“ sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia’s hands.

Notes: Part 1

Masterlist

Chapter 2

At the barracks’ canteen reigns the unspoken rule that no one is allowed to cook borsch, and trying to do so is punished by cleaning all windows with cold water only in the middle of the night. Can’t see anything because the nights at the outskirts of Zapolyarny are blacker than out in the taiga? Tough luck. There are so many different recipes as there are families out there, and everyone has their very own way to make it. Fatui agents have brought each other to the hospital wing over fighting which recipe is the best, therefore a couple of years before Tartaglia and you enrolled, this rule was established.

Sitting out in the cold of Jaroslawk at four in the morning, you’d kill for a hot bowl of your mamochka’s borsch—the best in Morepesok even though Tartaglia begs to differ, but the only problem with his claim is that he is fucking wrong.

Through your binoculars you see everything is quiet and dark on the other side of the compound, which is a good sign. Unfortunately, good also means very boring. You’ve been lying in the exact same position for nearly three hours now: on your belly, elbows slightly propping your upper body to see the Baron’s estate that’s embraced by a forest like a mother cradling its child. Tales have it if you make even one little mistake inside those cold brick walls, Baron Igor would personally see to it that you don’t leave these woods alive and whatever his hellish guard dogs don’t finish eating up, his servants would send to your family as a small parting gift and warning to get as far and fast away as possible.

If only he were as thorough covering his tracks as he is scaring people, but Baron Igor has never really excelled at multiple things and now, months after the first little bird brought some interesting insight, you can’t wait for Baron Igor to finally slip and confirm the rumours about him selling information on one of Il Dottore’s gun research labs to a spy from Sumeru. Intel has it exchanges usually occur once every full moon and with the orb now hidden behind thick, black clouds, this is the last chance to get some evidence before the ship leaving to Sumeru carries whoever deserves a knife in their windpipe back to their God of Wisdom.

Baron Igor has messed up, got too arrogant, and now you and your team are here to make sure he eats up his mess. It wasn’t easy to infiltrate his mansion. Mitsuki only passed because you took out two of the other contesters for one of the Baron’s favourite restaurants down in Nowobirsk. That man bows to greed and when introduced to the place’s new maître d’hôtel—the best of his kind, the most exotic to own during their flimsy ceasefire with Inazuma—Baron Igor acted swiftly and hired him. Mitsuki had gagged at those words while lieutenant Scaramouche had shown the patience of a man barely holding himself back from violence. Two days later, Mitsuki took his position as spy and head waiter of the Baron’s personal restaurant taking up the whole second floor in the right wing of his stone mansion.

“Fuck me, I look like a penguin,” Mitsuki had said on the night before his work began at the estate, glaring at himself in the mirror dressed in a sharply tailored tuxedo.

“Then we know who to call if Baron Igor decides to open a zoo,” Mikhail had said, but he was in no hurry to turn away his appreciative gaze from how tight Mitsuki’s black pants tugged his slim legs and ass.

That’s the team, Mitsuki, you and Mikhail—Lock, Shock and Barrel, one of your fellow division’s comrade likes to call you for unknown reasons, simply laughing to himself and shaking his head as if trying to get rid of a good memory. Though for all that Scaramouche is concerned, to him you’re triple double and a clusterfuck he doesn’t want anywhere near him or so help him Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, he’ll stake your heads and scatter your remains to the seagulls terrorising the coast of Port Odessa.

“He loves us,” Mikhail likes to joke, even though you aren’t sure the words love and Scaramouche should be used in one sentence.

“One day, he’ll kill one of us with his bear hands and feel nothing,” Mitsuki commonly remarks, sounding like whatever you’d do to receive such a punishment is probably ghastly enough to justify being murdered.

“His hat is pretty neat,” is usually your only contribution and they both look at you as if you’re crazy.

“Any movement?” a voice asks from your right. Mikhail shakes still fresh snow from his head and shoulders as he dugs under the narrow doorway, looking like a puppy trying to shake itself dry. Now that a year has passed since a Geo Vision user crushed his right arm and healers had to amputate it to save his life, he’s adapted pretty well to only one arm and hand at his disposal. He’s balancing a cup in his palm while holding two paper bags with his fingers and somehow makes it look easy. He rejoins you at the window, carefully placing the steaming cup and one bag in front of you. You hand him your binoculars so he can see for himself, and inspect your breakfast. “Do I even want to know where you found,” you peak inside the bag, “pirozhky at a time like this?”

“Couple of blocks down there’s this place. Really nice lady, gave me one for free and added a little extra to our coffee.”

You take a sip, and instantly begin coughing and pounding your chest as it goes down burning. “Archons, that’s disgusting. Who in their right mind puts Fire-Water in their coffee?”

“I know, right?” Mikhail beams. “It’s genius.”

It’s ghastly. You take another sip. Horrible, really. But it keeps you warm and awake. So maybe it isn’t that bad at all.

While Mikhail observes the area, you dig into your beef and onion pirozhky. There’s nothing fun about pulling an all-nighter but sometimes sharing a cup of coffee and eating warm food helps to get through them. Also knowing someone suffers with you. Sharing pain is gain, after all.

“Well, they sure like taking their sweet time,” Mikhail mumbles, getting a little more comfortable on the cold stone ground. He puts the binoculars away and digs into his own food. “What are we gonna do if nothing happens today?”

“Then we’ll come back next month and do it all over again.” Hopefully you don’t have to. Fyrva’snezh was two weeks ago but this winter started off particularly brutal. Two out of three units are still missing from their outskirts training and you don’t want to be in the poor lasses’ and lads’ shoes who are still at the infirmary recovering from severe hypothermia. “What worries me more is that Mitsuki might lose his sanity if he stays there another whole month.”

“Well, what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger,” Mikhail says, wiping his greasy fingers off his pants. “I just want to wipe that smug smirk off the Baron’s pig face.”

He and probably every citizen populating Jaroslawk. “Once Mitsuki locates the communication point, we’ll go in and neutralise the target if we can’t catch him alive,” you say. “Baron Igor will try and weasel his way out of it but so far all evidence stands against him. The rest is up to Her Majesty.” And the Tsaritsa is known for many things, but mercy isn’t one of them. That will show anyone else trying to make business behind her back.

“Do you really think Mitsuki will endure another month in that stupidly tight uniform?” Mikhail sounds like he very much wished for another month out in the cold like this if it meant Mitsuki would bless him for a while longer wearing his uniform.

You stretch your leg and kick him in his shin. “Don’t jinx this, Nozhyalensky,” you say. “No matter how good his ass looks in those pants, it isn’t worth freezing your own ass off out in this cold. If we have to extend our mission, I’m going to steal your coat and own it for the whole time.”

“You don’t care if I freeze to death?”

“I really don’t.”

He puts his hand on his heart in mock despair. “That’s harsh.”

It would be his own fault, no hard feelings. You sit in silence, sharing your scalding hot coffee. In the mansion on the other side, a light flickers on in the east wing. Mikhail shifts and makes a disgusted grunt. “I did not want to know the Baron is banging the Duchess of Pavlovich.”

“Might be good leverage in the future.” You quickly dot it down in your notebook, squinting at the barely illuminated page. “Especially if the Duke refuses to pay his taxes again. I’m sure we can get to him through her.”

More minutes pass in silence. Mikhail continues his watch while you start to mindlessly doodle a little Foul Legacy Child in the corner of your page. You wonder what time it is in Liyue. Is Childe also out on a mission or tugged in and sleeping well in a land that knows nothing of harsh winds and freezing nights. Does he spare a thought of home? Is he missing you as much as you miss him or has he already filled the gnawing void with faceless, warm women that comfort him at night?

“Heard anything from our comrades in Liyue?” Mikhail asks nonchalantly, but he’s always been the poorest liar of you three and it’s pretty obvious where this conversation is going. Part of you hungers for that conflict.

“They still can’t find whoever killed the Geo Archon. But Lord Childe might have located the Gnosis and has begun his infiltration.”

Chances are good he might succeed in another month or so, though from the letters you’ve received so far, it sounds like he might succeed fucking the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor before that. Tartaglia has never started anything serious with guys before, safe from occasionally drunk making outs, but new cultures could change a lot in you and it’s Tartaglia’s first time staying for so long in Liyue and meeting a man like this so called Zhongli.

Mikhail clicks his tongue in disgust. “I can’t believe this guy is over there for three months already and is still nowhere near finishing the job.” He spits at the ground and twists his mouth in a very familiar manner of annoyance—only usually this expression is meant for initiate Fatui members who can’t tell a shotgun from a sniper rifle.

“How can you still be mad at him for handing you your ass three years ago,” you say. A man’s ego is such a frail thing, thank the Tsaritsa for being a strong, independent woman.

“This isn’t about that stupid fight,” Mikhail splutters, red blotches creeping up his neck. His inability to lie is abysmal. “I don’t get how you stand that guy. His arrogance needs its own giant room to fit inside. Someone needs to knock him down a peg or two and maybe beat out this need to whore around as well—”

You move in a flash. Mikhail doesn’t have any time to react before he finds himself on his back, pinned down by your weight with a knife to his throat. “Mikhail, I love you like my own kin and you know I’d take a bullet for you any time,” you growl. “But speak another filthy word about Childe and I will cut off your tongue and feed it to street dogs while watching you bleed out like a slaughtered pig. Are we clear?”

You feel Mikhail’s chest rising and falling under your spread hand, his body warm, proof of his life. How easy it would be to take it from him, to warm the cold, dirty ground with his blood.

Mikhail’s dark eyes don’t give away anything. He’s holding very still, like a cornered animal faced with its hunter; don’t move and maybe it thinks one is dead. Eventually, he says quietly, “If you could see what an unlikeable, unpleasant person he really is, maybe...” He doesn't finish. There is no need to. You know very well what point he’s trying to make.

“I don’t need your supervision,” you say. “Or your pity.”

Mikhail barks a loud, humourless laugh. “Lassie, if I had an ounce of pity left for anyone else than myself, I wouldn’t be very good at this job, would I?”

You shift your weight. Mikhail groans as you put pressure on a wound a Pyro Vision user inflicted on him a week ago that hasn’t fully healed yet—a favour for Mikhail to prevent him from following his train of thought. You don’t know what is worse: His unrequited love for Mitsuki or Tartaglia and you knowing what you both want but can’t have.

Mikhail quietly says your name and gently lowers your hand. The sharp knife has bit into his skin just enough to leave a fine, red line on his throat. “All I’m saying is, I am not the bad guy here.”

He is right, of course. But that makes it even worse, because without a bad guy, who could you put blame on? Who would be the target of your frustration and your scorn? Who would pay for countless sleepless nights wasted alone or in a stranger’s arms?

If there is no good, no bad side, no villains or heroes to put blame on, what does that leave for you? Just the law. It is hard, but it is the law.

There is no one but yourself who carries the burden. Even knowing Tartaglia goes through the same doesn’t soothe the pain steadily growing in your heart. You’re like two stars gravitating to each other, seeking the sweet collision to finally become one and create something bigger, the most exquisite light in the endless black galaxy, but whenever you manage to come close to each other, other forces pull you apart.

You shift your position from towering above him to slumping back on Mikhail’s lap, your anger deflated like a balloon.

“Arguing with you is no fun,” you mumble, sheathing the knife back in its place inside your boot.

Mikhail arches one dark brow. “Learnt from the best. You don’t want to get into an argument with my mama.”

“Are you two leaving me out from a team bonding session?” comes a static voice from your left.

“Darling, we would never leave you out from a potential threesome,” Mikhail says back, a wicked grin flirting with his mouth.

“Blergh,” you groan in disgust and roll off him, grabbing for the plastic piece from where Mitsuki’s voice has sounded; Il Dottore’s newest invention, a voice transmitter agents use for long distance communication.

“So, how’s it cooking, good looking?” Mikhail asks, ignoring your eyes rolling back. “Anything new at the front?”

Mitsuki is silent for a moment. Somewhere, a dog barks. “I think someone might have tipped the Baron off.”

Immediately, you feel Mikhail's body tense next to you. “Do you need us to come in?”

Oppressive silence fills the room. Mikhail jerks, but before he can jump to rash actions, you grab his arm hard enough to bruise. He freezes, and you both stare at the voice transmitter in Mikhail’s hand.

A moment later, static crackles, and Mitsuki says, “I received a note on the caviar shipment. Roads are all clear, it should come in around seven in the morning.”

Mikhail relaxes, but a sweat bead rolls from his temple and disappears behind his black turtle neck sweater. He sags against you, exhaling very loudly.

A couple of years ago, after you three had been working together and hadn’t tried to kill each other as often as other teams, you guys had decided to come up with your own secret language for times like these. Mikhail had first complained about the hours put into learning it the most—the semantics always changing depending on what line of work you’d infiltrate—but eventually even he had agreed it was a pretty neat trick. What Mitsuki has said simply means all is in order and the mission is proceeding smoothly.

“Little fucker,” Mikhail grumbles, ruffling his own hair just to keep his hand busy. You agree. It feels like you’ve aged five years in those last five minutes.

That relief is short lived. A small explosion from the right wing inside the mansion lights up the night like a firework show. Mikhail is out of the window in a flash. You grab your rifle, keeping an eye on him as he crosses the street in a flash and climbs over the iron gate.

Two shadows tumble through the hole in the second floor. You sway your scope, laying eyes on Mitsuki as he wrestles with a cloaked figure. Purple sparks fly, clashing with crimson flames that rise skyward and turn into black smoke. At least something is according to plan even though your Cryo Vision would be more effective.

You watch them fight for a moment, unable to get a clear shot as both are short distance fighters. Mitsuki moves quicker than a flash, whirling two hatches over his head, parrying a deathly bow from the Sumeru’s Claymore. Mitsuki is smaller than most of his comrades. People like to underestimate him, but that’s part of the fun, according to him. Proving people wrong. He dodges another swift strike, rolling out of the way and giving you a clear sight at your target. But over his shoulder, Mitsuki catches your eyes and gives the tiniest shake of his head. Not yet.

You wish he could see the stingy eye you’re giving him right now. You’ve waited long enough out in this cold and your whole body shakes with the need to move, the need to fight. A quick look to Mikhail shows he’s fending off two of the Baron’s guards himself. Luckily, they can’t really hold their stand against a fully trained Fatui agent. He quickly takes out his opponents, closing in on Mitsuki and the Sumeru agent. Mitsuki has driven him to the edge of the forest. So that’s his plan. You wait until the spy is right beneath a long, thick branch, then pull the trigger. The shot is muffled by the silencer, slicing through the air with infused Cryo power. It hits its target, cutting the branch off. The Sumeru spy is too slow. When the branch buries him under its weight, Mikhail finally catches up to Mitsuki, and through your scope you can see him patting Mitsuki down for injuries. Mitsuki pushes him away, not hard or in a mean way, just enough to signal this isn’t the time. The job isn’t done yet.

Mitsuki advances the spy and kneels, looking for signs of life. He looks up, his dark eyes searching your scope. He holds your gaze, picking up his voice transmitter.

“I have good and bad news,” he says. “The spy is still alive, so we’ll get our answers. But now I’m pretty sure the Baron knows what’s going on.”

“Then don’t just stand there, someone go after him, quick!” you yell in your transmitter.

Before Mikhail dashes off, you hear him curse. “Lord Scaramouche is going to kill us.”

He will, considered this was supposed to undergo without the Baron noticing anything.

* * *

Dear little tygress,

forgive my horrible handwriting. I am still shaking from all the laughter your last letter gave me. Zhongli-xiansheng was actually worried for my wellbeing because I had choked on air and almost died. I swear, you will kill me one day, little tygress.

Speaking of little and potential lethal beasts, I’m surprised Scaramouche didn’t use your head as a toilet plunger. I really do think he's fond of you, little tygress. Any other team would be six feet under by now. You have to tell me your secret once I’m back. Scaramouche still doesn’t know I broke his favourite, ugly cup with the bear on the front from Fontaine, and I want to be prepared once he knows.

Everything is the same in Liyue, and at the same time, everything is changing. Rex Lapis’ murder is still unsolved, and I do enjoy watching the little traveller boy run around looking for answers. Once I return with the Geo Archon’s gnosis, dinner will be on me.

How are things at home? I hope Tonia hasn’t finished all mooncakes by herself again and saved some for the rest of the bunch. I can’t bear to hear Anthon cry again about me only sending sweets to Tonia and Teucer. Has the old man gotten in touch with you? He still doesn’t reply to me, but mama says he’s reading the letters. Maybe a bottle of Liyue’s Baijiu will loose his tongue, or hand for that matter. It’s almost as good as Fire-Water, promise.

Till next time and don’t get too much on little ‘Mouche’s nerves, otherwise there will be no room left for me.

Yours, Red Fox

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin impact childe #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact tartaglia #reader #reader insert #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin impact tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #childe x you #genshin impact tartaglia x you #genshin impact childe x you

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 3 years

Text

Something more than Dreaming (One Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: weird dreams. Panic blushing

Word Count: It feels so weird to work in an office which has one-fourth of the workload of your previous office (though this one has ten times the responsibility, coz I am the head here). Anywhooo, I am in a place where there is no booze, no bars, no friends. :/

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The lights are a mixture of all the flavours the Gods can taste on their tongue. The seventy-five coloured rainbow seems like the perfect vibe for the buzz that is setting in on the nerves currently. Bass-boosted music and the cool air running through the building filled with heated, sweat-ridden bodies is driving everyone up on a new high. Wait. Is everyone feeling the same high? Or is it just me? Before that sharp brain of his can evaluate the situation, a new beat is hitting him hard along with the scene he witnesses unfolding in front of him. There in the unruly crowd of drunk and horny strangers, seven hottest aliens dance along with the one person his eyes seem to be searching for. You.

It's not good enough for me, since I been with you It's not gonna work for you, nobody can equal me

Everything else fades away in the background- and he is convincing himself that it is because his senses are heightened in a dark place filled with lunatics- and the only focus is you. That is what he repeats to himself when his eyes land on the movement of your fingers in your hair; that is what he is singing internally when watching you pout and bite your lip makes him gulp.

I'm gonna sip on this drink when I'm fucked up I should know how to pick up

That is what he wants to smack into his head when he feels his body gravitate in your direction while you are swinging your hips in a way he feels should be considered a sin; a sweet seductive sin.

I'm gonna catch the rhythm while she push up against me Ooh, and she tipsy

He keeps denying the internal dialogue of feeling jealous with all these strangers around you all this time, and still cannot get his icy glare off anyone who gets even an inch closer to you. At one point he is happy to see the boys be distracted by the light show that begins at the bar. That is until he sees something he does not like. He does not even realise the eyes he turns with those veins popping out of his arms and neck, neither does he acknowledge the dangerous vibe he gives off that automatically clears his path to you to remove that excuse of a lizard trying to prey on you from your back. With one tight hold on his neck, he is making that pervy lizard writhe and struggle where he stands, making him shed his skin with just the poisonous look in those green eyes. That devilish glare is enough to send that creature running. Once he is convinced there is no sign of any more ill intentions, he turns back to the most unaware person in the world- you, of course- and watches you struggling to twerk.

I had enough convo for 24 I peep'd you from across the room Pretty little body, dancing like GoGo, aye

There is a minute pause when he tries to absorb what exactly it is that you are trying to do and has to question how you are the same person he saw dancing so effortlessly a few seconds ago. Just when his patience runs out, he grabs your hand and takes you away, walking through the dispersing crowd without looking back till he finds the darkest corner in this excuse of a building and pushes you towards it. He can easily assess that with the amount of bao-bao in your system, you won't struggle. And you don't. Your back is against the wall and by the time you can ask him- in between the giggles- what was going on, you find those familiar arms caging you from either side.

But you are unforgettable I need to get you alone Why not?

The bubbles of fun are suddenly popping from the heat your whole body feels at once with Loki's body so close to yours. That perfect mess that is his hair is covering his face while eyes are stuck on you. His brows are struggling to loosen themselves up and his breaths are shallow.

A fucking good time, never hurt nobody I got a little drink but it's not Bacardi

You can tell he has been sweating, for you can smell his very intense natural odour- something you have become quite familiar with on this space trip; the trip that continues to make you conscious about your own body's smell now that you do not have any deodorants to cover it up. You can also tell there is something wrong with the way his veins are popping in his neck- though you do not refrain from admitting to yourself that it kinda makes him look hot. Very hot.

If you loved the girl then I'm so, so sorry I got to give it to her like we in a marriage

You know it is that bao-bao making you so bold but you could swear to all the powers in the universe you want to take a chance. The thought is tempting and fun to fantasise about till you realise that his hands have come close enough to brush against your arms and the mere touch is sending an unfathomable buzz up and down your body. "Loki-" is all you struggle to get out of your dry throat that is thirsting for things it should not be. And to add to these strange waves crashing inside your limbs, he brings his face closer to yours. You know your heart has taken a dive and your lungs are fluttering with that sweet scent of alcohol that brushes on your lips with his sigh. So close is his face that you can spot every single cell of flawlessness on his skin. Is this really happening?

Oh, like we in a hurry No, no I won't tell nobody

It feels like he can hear your thoughts for his hand comes to pick those sweaty stray strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. This is really happening. The world is swirling all around you. So are your breaths when they see those wanting lips come closer. Not able to take this twist along with the stuff you are high on, you close your eyes and wait with parted lips.

You're on your level too Tryna do what lovers do

The fire inside his gut is driving him closer to you even though his sanity is questioning every logical reason behind this. But that sweet scent coming off you is clouding every possible sane answer there could be. That's the thing. He does not want to be sane anymore. What is the advantage in that anyway? His hand is moving on its own, catching his breath when he feels your heated skin on the back of his fingers while brushing away those hair strands that are driving him mad for making you look so...he dare not say such things even to himself- that make him feel things. And boy, does he not like feeling things, especially such things. Oh, lords be praised! He loves the way your gaze is struggling to rest at one place, walking all over his eyes to his jaw before settling on his lips. And then closing themselves shut. He does not know whether that is an invitation or not. But looks like this sweet alcohol is making him bold. So, this is what alcohol really does to you, huh, he wonders, thanking the maker for this ale that was able to make a God feel the buzz. ... Wait. I am feeling the buzz. His own statement makes him blink out of the drunken trance for a second. "Why did the beer taste sweet?" his suspicion speaks. That suspicion is quickly turned right when he sees your meek smile and feels the floor beneath his feet sweep him face down into the ground. "Oh f-"

The boy band patiently sits in the lounge in their own particular ways. While one is sipping on their drink, the other has got their face in their palms. One has that mischievous smirk on his face and the one sitting next to him is gazing with a look of pure confusion. One has got his brow up while tapping his lips with his index and the other one is pushing two glasses of- what looks like- water towards the one particular side. And their captain is just plain tired at this point, looking at the ones who are their centre of attention. You and Loki.

You sway to and fro on the couch while Loki sits next to you with his head in his palms, his eyes lost in a void, given up on this world. You are pouting by this point, looking at the empty table in the middle of the crowd of you nine. "So...are we going to order food soon?" You had to ask. You feel a movement from your left and are nervous to look in that direction, whining internally when Loki drowns you in his judgmental gaze. "I'm hungry," you mutter as you look down. "I don't think you're getting any food today, Princess," Violet mentions, turning all the heads to him. "What, I was just translating what Loki's eyes are saying." "But I'm hungryyy," you cry. Loki closes his eyes and sighs. "Serves you right to starve." Violet carries on with his translation. "Stop it," Loki commands with his eyes still shut. "Okay." "Why did you spike his drink though?" Green asks put loud, making it hard for you to get away from all those curious eyes. You shrug. "I just thought it'd be fun. Loki will let his hair down and, I don't know, dance." "From the looks of it, it was gonna be more than a dance." "What?" "I said from the looks of it Loki can't dance." Loki pretends to have not heard White's word but narrows his eyes at him when he gets the chance. "Relax-" White gestures you two to drink the water-like liquid- "both of you are on the fourth stage. One more and it'll wear off like it was never there." "What's the fifth stage?" you tilt your head while your hands are squeezing your abdomen. "And how do you know about these stages?" "The Bao-Baos are our people's speciality," all seven of them say in sync, leaving you a little speechless. "So what's the fif-" You pause and never come back to the sentence. Your eyes are looking at infinity, seemingly lost in a trance, your body has let go of all the tightness, easing into the couch. Loki turns to watch the slow transformation. Anyone can tell from the look on his face that the word 'worried' right now begins and ends on you. He also knows that with that metabolism of his, he is going to hit that stage you are in, in no time. And so he goes, letting his trance begin while his gaze is still settled on you. There is a pause around the table as seven pairs of eyes observe the both of you. "Alright boys-" White slaps his thighs- "you know what to do." All of them get up with different tasks in mind. Violet takes two fuzzy blankets out of nowhere to put them around you and Loki. Green lights a candle and puts it a little close to the side where his tranced bunnies sit. Orange takes the charge to put headphones on and takes a few seconds to decide whether to put on his romance playlist or horror playlist. Red and Yellow draw the curtains to the private lounge while Sky puts shades on you and Loki before tucking a plushy under your arm, Loki's arm and handing one to Lulu as well. "Perfect," White announces, "now let's have some fun till they sober up." He calls for Lulu- who readily jumps and settles on his shoulder- and goes out into the crowd with his brothers, leaving the two of you to go through the final stage of your colourful high.

You The music is a soft melody with a depth given to the bass, and you can automatically tell there is a touch of Galimatias in there somewhere. Blinking and feeling the environment around you, you find yourself out in the open, an unlit paper lamp in your hand surrounded by the building and creatures you were just dancing around. This cannot be real, is just a passing thought in your mind, never given the weight it deserves. Why? Because you are already distracted by the pairs sitting on the grass under the shimmering night sky and oil lamps either hung on the trees, rested on rock piles or kept safely on the grass. The scenic beauty is too romantic and the smell of vanilla burning somewhere is bringing up emotions you wanted to keep hidden from the world for some time more. If it isn't for the voice that calls out for you from behind, you are quite sure another minute would have ended in tears. "Is this the spot?" You know the voice all too well to turn around voluntarily but a part of your subconscious itches at this new wavelength you feel in that very sound. That silken voice that has a veil over it suddenly seems...free. And to add to your surprise, the God of Mischief who adores the shades of gold, green and black is out of the blue walking towards you in a white shirt and blue jeans. Are those ripped jeans? And did he just tie his hair back? You are in the middle of thinking about this new persona when you are pushed into the river of questions with that slight tilt of his head and a huge smile. If only you could see the look on your face like Loki 2.0 was seeing right now. Your frown; your wrinkled nose and those lips turned as if they have tasted something sour. "What?" He laughs. "You're laughing?" Your gasp of unbelief is not making it easy for the God. "I just asked you if we're sitting here and you looked at me as if I was some strange alien." He shakes his head. So do you- at the fact that you could see his teeth throughout that sentence. "It's just-" you lick your lips and try to move a liiiittle back, away from him- "I've never seen you smile this much, let alone laugh." He breaks in a giggle, making you pause your breath. "Staahhp," he nearly sings and pokes you on your collar, trying to act all shy, forcing you to wonder if he is an imposter. "Okay, something is definitely of-faa-" The distraction in front of you makes you miss the end of the stone beneath your step, almost sending you down seven feet but Loki is quick to catch you by your hand and pulling in towards him by your waist. Ah. Now, this chest to chest nearness is quite familiar. So is that scent that naturally lingers on him. It is him. More or less.

Loki The illuminated aquatic ball gets a red and yellow micro planet down the hole. The tentacled pink alien grumbles something at his opponent, breaks his cue stick and stomps out of the bar. A nonchalant chuckle comes of that very opponent as he straightens himself after those smooth three shots. "Come back when you are old enough to stop whining." "One Midgardian Sex on the Beach for Loki," the waitress sings before setting the twirling glass down beside his cue stick and walking away- but not before she has felt that ass on her fingers. There is not much colour on his face except for a tired look in his eyes when he feels those intruding hands on his jeans. "Get those hands away be-" "Before he cuts them off clean." Loki has to turn to find the source of the voice that is somewhat quite usual to his ears. And when he does, the waitress is forgotten right at that moment, for all his senses are on you. You stand at the entrance facing Loki, who has to take a lungful of this musty bar air to come to terms that the person wearing a generous amount of kajal and smokey eyes is you. That smile on your lips assures him that. But the outfit brings back some more questions. All black. Those jeans- black. That tank top- black. That leather jacket- black. Those high boots- black. Those belt accessories hanging off those thighs- wait, they actually look good on her. And is that a nose ring? Your steps come to a halt right in front of the God; the very God who stands there nearly toppling over his cue stick. Your fingers take the liberty to tap him under the chin and draw yourself close enough. "Better keep that butt safe from unwanted hands before I claw someone for even looking at them," you whisper before pretending to bite him and walking away with his drink. The chill around his neck does not subside even after you're gone. And he is still wondering just one thing. "What kind of bao-bao did she eat now?"

You "What?" "...Nothing." Loki smiles and tries to hide his face in his hair. "Why are you looking at me like that?" It's no lie. You have been staring at Loki for the past twenty minutes with a smile on your face. You are sitting the same way you were sitting when he longingly looked at a couple making out, or when he moaned while eating a burger, or when he said you looked pretty in the moonlight. "I am wondering," you hum, letting your arm cradle your head, your gaze still stuck on him. "Wondering what." Loki mirrors you. "How amazing you are," you sigh, closing your eyes, "and yet I miss my Loki."

Loki "Are you comfortable in those?" He is still getting used to your eyes following every single hot body that passes by the room, checking them out without any restraints. Your eyes finally come back to him and find him pointing at your outfit. "Why? You wanna borrow them for the night?" Your suggestive voice raises the God's brows and forces him to inhale through his mouth before blowing all that air out. "I will just borrow my own drink for now," he acknowledges while taking his cocktail and downing it in huge gulps, all the while you sit there with your legs apart, resting quite casually with your arms on the bar table. Breathing in through your teeth you lick your lips. "You are looking quite yummy today, Loki-" you tilt your head and smirk with your eyes- "wonder how you'll look on that pool table there." "Quite heavy on top of you," he quips, feeling a burp come up. His arms go past you to keep the glass over the tabletop when he feels your legs wind themselves around his to pull him closer. "What makes you think you'll get to the top?" you point out while playing with his belt loops. Loki looks at you for one long minute. Eventually, he lets his hand set those two hair strands in their place, every from those side braids that add something to your look which clearly does something to Loki. "As painfully lovely as that offer is," Loki hums and looks right into your eyes, "I feel I should rather bear with the Y/N I know."

You wake up with a jolt to the bass-boosted music thumping outside. Removing the shades and rubbing your eyes you nearly slip your lenses out. "Fuck," you mumble under your breath before realising you had been drooling. On Loki's shirt. Your fingers work discreetly to wipe that drool off his black shirt. "You are buying me a new one." His voice reverberates in your ear that is closer to his chest, sending goosebumps down your body. Slowly moving away from his chest to sit straight, you wipe the marks of your saliva away from your lips and clear your throat. Loki clears his throat and snaps the knots in his neck and then removes his shades. "I didn't realise when I fell asleep," you mumble as your fingers move through your hair to straighten them out. "Probably went through the last stage," Loki insists, removing any wrinkles from his shirt and finding something resembling a plushy under his arm. "Which was one bizarre dream," he mutters. "Felt like a weird dream," you utter. Both of you freeze for a short second at the synchronisation of your thoughts, turning to face each other for one fleeting moment. As if looking into each other's eyes opens certain doors that did not seem to be there before, both of you turn away to hide your heated faces- questioning whether the other one knows something. You busy your hands to move your hair behind your ears. Loki pulls at his cuffs before trying to scratch an itch in the back of his head. You move the blanket over you closer to your chest before wanting to bury your face in it. Loki tries to play with the plushy's head, trying his best to check if he could see you from the corner of his eyes. "Do you wear white?" You blurt out without a warning and it is only later that your eyes are popping out as words register in your mind. "What?" Loki is confused. He blinks and tilts his head a bit. "Uhh, no. I...don't." He does not know why he is answering that question. "Do you have a naval piercing?" He asks, genuinely curious; more like cautious. "God no," you gasp, feeling your hand go over your naval to check. You blow out some of that hot air burning inside you. Loki inhales, trying to look at anything but you. "Have you ever tried braiding your hair?" Even though it is an interesting question, it is a bit strange coming from Loki. "Like, like those side braids?" You ask softly, showing him a rough example on your hair. Loki nods. "No-" you shake your head- "but it'll look good on you." Loki nods. "You too. It will look great on you as well." "And a bun at back will look good on you as well." A minute or two passes as you two sit there awkwardly, trying to find something to talk about. You look at your wrist to watch the time before realising you are not wearing a watch. Loki is scratching an itch on his palm as he tries to come up with a strategy. "Oh!" you jolt up in your seat at a sudden realisation. "the kids!" "Hmm?" "We should find Lulu and Javier." "Oh! Yes!" Loki nods and gathers the blankets and the headphones, keeping them at one side before getting up with you. "We should find them and get back home." "I hope they are okay." "They better be okay or I will kill those colourful bastards for neglecting the kids in their care." And off you two go into the alien rave, thinking the new door has been shut for good, never anticipating the events that are about to come that would change the whole dynamic of many relationships.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki series #mcu loki #loki fluff #loki feels #loki smut #loki fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel smut #It's The Avengers #fluff #smut #loki smile

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Something Unexpected

A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss

Killian Jones has never felt especially devout to the church, falling into Priesthood following the death of his brother and father. When Emma Swan beings attending nearly every service, he knows her presence to be a test of his will. One he will most certainly fail.

Titled as such because this became something I was not expecting...

If smutty priest!Killian is not your thing, no hard feelings!! Please just skip this one and I’ll catch you next time 😇💛

Read on Ao3

~3700 words

Rated E for sexy times and curse words

Read my Other Stuff

I don’t know if I even want to tag anyone because I’m horrified of offending someone so ✌️

~~~~

He hears the clicking of her boots against the stone flooring long before he even hopes to see her. He knows which ones she must be wearing before she even gets to his office, recognizing the tall pair that reaches above her knee in the most deliciously sinful way by the tone of it’s clicks against the hard surface. They’re the same pair she wore yesterday during his sermon, where she continued to cross and uncross her knees as she made eye contact with him, biting her lower lip in a way that made his pants too tight.

Killian Jones fell into priesthood by accident. After the sudden death of his father and brother left him with the family business, he decided that preparing the dead for their services was not for him. With little other options, and with his philosophy degree already pointlessly completed, he obtained his master’s degree in divinity without a clear path before him and became a priest in the small town of Storybrooke, Maine. He’s never been extremely devout, but meeting Emma Swan has made him question his devotion to the church more than he even thought possible.

The first time he met her, the first time he saw her staring up at him through thick lashes, her big emerald eyes glowing in the candlelight during evening mass, he thought it must've been a test. Something greater than himself sent a devil dressed in an angel’s clothes to ensure his allegiance to God, and he failed miserably. He hasn’t been able to stop the thoughts of ruining her since then, though he hasn’t touched her once in the six months that they’ve been getting to know one another.

Several times a week, Emma makes confession to him, starting by listing silly things she’s done like throwing away her leftovers because she didn’t like them but felt too guilty to refuse a to-go box, or double parking someone at the post-office because she was just running in for a second. But every once in a while, she teases him by confessing her impure thoughts for a man of the cloth, her knowledge of his fidelity to the church just barely outweighing her desperation for him. It’s driving him mad to absolve her, to tell her that she is doing the right thing by ignoring her desires.

But today, she’s meeting him after telling him the night before after his service had ended that she needs counsel from a man of God. He can only hope it’s for the usual things he deals with, like mild anxiety or feelings of uncertainty surrounding her faith, but based on his knowledge of her after all these months, he knows it must be something else.

A part of him, the part that the devil likes to taunt, hopes it’s something else.

There’s a soft knock on the door and he calls for her to enter, the heavy slab of wood gliding across the stone floor until she peeks her head through. “Father?” she asks, and the tone of her voice does something to him despite being referred to as his title each and every day.

“Hello,” he returns, clearing his throat. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you for seeing me,” she says softly, giving him a smile that makes his heart race. Her cheeks are flushed and pink, and he hopes it’s from the cold air she had to walk through to get to him. “It’s comforting to know that I have someone I can talk to.”

“Of course, love,” he says, wanting to kick himself at the informality. They’ve spent months getting to know each other, although it’s always with a partition between them and with the possibility that someone could overhear. He clears his throat. “Uh, my child. What brings you to seek counsel this evening?”

She swallows, gulps, and he notes the anxious bounce of her right leg causing her heel to tap

against the floor. “Well, I… I’m worried, Father.”

“What about?” he asks with concern. Despite how clearly he knows that he should stop, he cares about her deeply and struggles to hide his concern for her.

“My symptoms,” she says softly, timidly, “they haven’t gotten any better.”

His heart rate picks up as she mentions her symptoms. He begins to sweat, his collar feeling much too tight as he realizes exactly to what she’s referring. “I see. And, um, you’ve tried what we’ve discussed?”

She nods solemnly. “Yes, I’ve been praying and praying each day, but my desires continue to plague my mind and body.”

His mouth goes dry and his stomach curls in knots. “Remind me, child, of what desires you speak, exactly?”

She bites her full bottom lip and stares at him through her thick, black lashes. “My desires to be with a man of the cloth. Not only to be with him physically— to show him what he’s been missing in his years of service to God— but also… to be with him. To spend a lifetime with him. To love and be loved by him.”

He stands from his chair, hearing it scrape against the rough stone, and walks around the desk towards her with haste. He’s hardly able to breath, each puff of air coming out hot and short, and he notes the rapid rise and fall of her own chest as her breasts swell against the tight, low cut top she wears. Clearly, it’s another one of the devil’s tests, and he’s about to fail. He kneels before her and takes her hands, placing both sets in her lap. “And your prayers have not worked?”

Shaking her head, she says, “each time I pray to God to ask Him to steer me in the right direction, I see an image of you before me. How can I follow God’s will if, each time I try, I’m met with that which I am trying so desperately to avoid?”

“Avoid?”

Her mouth is downturned, open slightly, her brows straining in concern and her chest heaving as she pants through her nerves. “I wish I could see and speak to you each and every day, Father. But I know that if I were to do just that, I would never stand a chance. I would never fall out of love with you.”

He stops breathing, releasing her hands from his own and reaching them into her hair as he grazes his fingers along her scalp in a way that makes her lashes flutter over her cheeks. “Emma,” he breathes against her mouth, coming closer and closer to her as he feels her breathing picking up. She bites her bottom lip sinfully again, tracing her own fingers along the edge of his collar before he closes his eyes as well.

He hasn’t kissed a woman in ages, but he knows with certainty that the kiss they share now is more passionate and more meaningful than any he’s ever had. It’s soft and gentle, allowing both of them the opportunity to melt into the other’s hold, before she pulls away breathlessly and squeezes the collar of his shirt. “I love you,” she whispers, her swollen lips pressed just barely against his mouth.

Her expression drives him to madness, to sin, and he lunges for her more powerfully this time, pulling her head to his and kissing her fiercely. She moans lewdly into his mouth as his tongue traces the seam of her lips, her fingers finding their way around his neck and into the thick hair at the back of his head. She pulls him impossibly closer to herself, until his hands slide down her back and lift her from the small chair, placing her on his desk. She separates her knees from one another in order to create enough space for him to rest his hips against hers as he continues to kiss her with the passion he’s been wanting to unleash for months.

Parting from her for just a second, he cups her cheeks with his palms and traces her high cheekbones with his thumbs. “I love you, Emma,” he whispers back to her. He furrows his brows and continues to stroke her cheeks, only this time it’s to catch a tear that has slipped from her jade eyes. “What is it?”

“How can we love each other and never be together?” she cries softly. “How can the Lord be so cruel as to make us so perfect for one another, only to make it impossible for us to love each other the way we both deserve?”

He shakes his head, kissing her tenderly once more, and says, “nothing is impossible, my love. I have every intention of being with you from this day forward.”

“How can you say that?” she asks with a touch of anger in her voice.

“Because I love you,” he answers simply. “Because my love for you is stronger than anything else in this world and in this life. The way that I love you, the way that I intend to love you, transcends the way that I feel about anything and everything else.”

“What about the church?” she asks him, her fingers tracing along his clerical collar, which suddenly feels much too tight. So tight, that he loosens it and places it on the desk behind her.

“The church is not ever going to make me feel the way I feel when I’m with you.”

It’s his confession this time that drives the two of them together, her fingers finding her hair again and his pulling on her lower back so that their hips are pressed together firmly. He feels her hooking her ankles together behind his thighs and it makes his stomach churn in the best possible way as he lets his fingers explore the soft skin under her skin tight knit sweater. She moans into his lips again, and the way hers part gives him access to sneak his tongue inside and explore until she begins panting needingly. She tightens her thighs around his hips, pulling him more firmly against herself until he begins to swell against the seam of his pants. That’s when he notices what she’s wearing, the knit sweater paired perfectly with a skirt that was modest in length, especially with her tall boots, until she sat with her thighs spread on his desk. He grinds his own hips against hers and she moans so erotically that it makes his cock pulse harder.

“I want you,” she begs against his kiss, swiveling her hips on his. “Please, Father.”

“ Fuck ,” he groans. “Please call me Killian.”

She pulls away from him and gives him a smirk so lurid that he loses his breath. “You don’t want me to address you formally?”

He chuckles breathlessly and says, “I’d rather forget about my ties to the church, if I can. After all, I plan on resigning tomorrow.”

She snorts. “Can you even do that?”

He shrugs, his palms finding her rear and pulling her to the edge of the desk. “I’ll find out.”

She lets out a cry, a bit too loud despite the privacy they’ve found in his office, as he tugs her sweater above her head and laps his tongue against the lace of her bra. He wonders if she wore the garment on purpose, with hopes of how the evening would go, and finds himself pulsing in his slacks at the thought.

“I’ve not tasted,” he breathes against her hardened nipple, feeling her tug at his hair. “A woman,” he starts again, biting down just hard enough to make her moan. “In quite some time.”

“ Fuck,” she pants.

“And I’ve never met a woman I’ve wanted to taste more desperately than I want to taste you, my love.” He bites her collarbone and then licks the sensitive flesh and her hips cant against his. “May I taste you, Emma?” he whispers against her neck.

“God, yes, please,” she starts, but he cuts her off by pressing his finger to her lips.

“ Killian ,” he whispers with a smirk.

She snorts, and while the sound may detract from the mood slightly, it makes him love her even more. “My apologies,” she jests. “Now, what was it you said you wanted?”

He’s practically growling as he places his warm palms on the smooth skin of her thighs, wondering in passing how cold she must’ve been in the chilled fall air on her way into the church. “I want what I’ve wanted since the moment I first laid eyes on you,” he says, sinking to his knees between her thighs. “I want the taste of you on my tongue. I want to make you come so hard you see stars behind your eyes.”

Her breath catches in her throat at his declaration, and when he runs one finger along her dampened underwear, she gasps and pushes her hips forward until she’s barely hanging on to the edge of the wooden desk. He lets his hot breath flood her sensitive core and she keens at the sensation, her knuckles turning white with the force with which she grips the surface. “Okay,” she whimpers.

“Is that something you’d like?”

“Yes.”

He hums in agreement and lets his teeth drag the soaked fabric from her, down her thighs until he can tug them with his fingers over her black suede boots. When he’s met with her swollen center, he slowly lets his tongue drag up her slit, collecting some of her arousal so that he can push against her clit until she cries out and tugs on his hair again after pushing her skirt out of the way. With her permission and her obvious enthusiasm, he places her thighs upon his shoulders and grabs her ass with his hands, letting his tongue trace gentle, hot patterns along her core until she’s chanting his name. He feels her squeezing her thighs together against his head, so he moves his right hand from behind her and slides a finger through her arousal, swirling his tongue on her clit and tucking his finger into her, causing her to squeeze harder.

“Fuck, yes, Killian,” she praises, pulling on his hair and slamming her other hand against the desk. “Fuck, more.”

He hums against her and she cants her hips against his mouth. “You want more?” She nods. “You want two fingers? Three?”

“Yes, please yes,” she begs. “I want your cock.”

“Mm mm,” he hums, shaking his head as he drags his tongue over her clit. “Come on my tongue first, love,” he commands as he adds another finger and curls them until she stutters. “Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Oh fuck,” she moans, her muscles tightening around his fingers. “More,” she begs again.

“My, my, someone’s desperate.” He slips a third finger into her and she squeaks out something inaudible, grip somehow tightening on his hair as she comes hard around him. “That’s it, love,” he coaxes, working her through it, not letting up in hopes of preparing her for more.

“Shit,” she breathes as she lets her head fall back on her neck. He stands, never letting his fingers stop their slow, languid movements as she continues to twitch around them, and presses soft kisses to the bare skin of her chest, up her neck, until their lips meet. Her breathing continues to stutter against him as he keeps up his ministrations until eventually she’s whimpering against him, nearly ready to come again, so he backs off and removes his hands from her all together. “Mean,” she accuses.

With a soft laugh, he begins working on the button of his pants and slides the zipper down. “Apologies, but I believe the lady mentioned wanting something other than my fingers?”

“Oh, yes,” she agrees fervidly. He feels her fingers against his stomach, pulling at the waist of his pants as if helping him out of them. “I’ve wanted to see your body for so long. You leave way too much to the imagination under that robe.”

“And what have you imagined?” he asks against her neck.

She pulls at his shirt, free of his collar now, until it’s over his head and she’s able to press her palms against his chest. “This,” she breathes, scratching her nails through the coarse hair. “Sometimes I would see your forearms and just imagine how much hair you would have all over.”

He loses his breath as she leans towards him and licks against his taut nipple and says, “aye.”

“So hot,” she murmurs against him, dragging her nails down his front and sending a shiver through him. His fly is down but his pants are still up, and she seems disappointed in this as she shakes her head and tugs them down his thighs. The only thing between her hand and his cock is his thin boxer briefs, and she traces her fingers along the outline of his tip and up his shaft so lightly that it makes him shiver again.

He slides his hands up her thighs again, scratching his fingers along the way, and hums appreciatively at the feel of her soft skin. “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve...”

“I would hope so, Father ,” she flirts, sneaking her hand into his briefs and gripping him with firm tenderness.

“What did I tell you?” he bites out, sucking a mark into her neck that she’ll surely wear tomorrow.

She moans at the sensation, and at him licking her tender skin. “Killian,” she corrects.

He captures her lips in his again, kissing her with a passion he’s been craving to show her for the six months that she’s been coming to mass. Maybe he should’ve known how she felt from the start; there are only a few people in town who attend mass more than once a week, and she’s come to nearly each one, sitting in the front row and constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs. He can only hope that means he’s had an affect on her all along. “I love you,” he mumbles against her mouth as she deepens the kiss, pulling him closer and tugging his underwear down his legs until he can kick them off.

She repeats his sentiment back to him again and again as he unhooks her bra and slides it off. She says it again as he pulls her skirt off of her hips, letting it fall to the floor between them. She repeats it once more as he slides his cock up and down through her folds, letting her arousal coat the both of them. It doesn’t take long, given how wet she is, and he’s breathlessly lining himself up to her entrance in a matter of moments. “Please,” she begs again, lacing her fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth back to hers. He tucks himself into her as she kisses him, her tongue exploring his mouth so that he can feel the moan she lets out.

He breaks from her and groans into her neck, pulling her close to him so that he can feel her breasts pressed into his chest and her chest and stomach heaving with each heavy intake of breath. He’s glad he brought her close to the edge already, because she feels so perfect around him that he knows he won’t last long. “Fuck, you’re incredible,” he says as he kisses her once more.

She starts to become restless in his arms as he pumps into her, and she wriggles to the edge of the desk until he’s picking her up and supporting her weight. She pushes against his shoulders, not breaking their kiss, and guiding him backwards into the chair he scooped her out of. Planting himself down without leaving her core, her suede-covered knees brace herself on either side of his hips until she grips his shoulders firmly and starts riding him mercilessly. The way she thrusts makes her breasts bounce before his face and he can’t help but to sneak a nipple into his mouth, sucking it until she whimpers and digs her nails into his skin. Eventually, when he can hardly take anymore, he plants his feet firmly on the floor and begins to thrust his hips up into her until she’s panting into the skin of his neck. “Don’t stop,” she breathes. Then, “harder.”

She meets his every movement with her own until he feels her fluttering and squeezing and falling apart around him. He places his fingers against her clit and she cries out, hugging herself to him and shouting his name just a bit too loudly. He praises himself for lasting and, once he’s certain that she’s reached the precipice and is falling off the same edge he’s about to topple over, he praises her as well. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gives in to the building pressure and lets himself go as her tight walls clench around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, continuing his thrusts as she does the same, holding her around the back of her shoulders and pulling her close to him. He kisses against the skin of her collarbone and then her neck, and then her lips when she gets close enough. “Bloody brilliant.”

She hums against his kiss, continuing to lazily move her hips against his as she comes down from the high they chased together. “Agreed.”

He lets out a soft laugh and asks, “worth blaspheming a man of the cloth?”

“For me? Absolutely,” she confirms, giggling and hugging him tighter, squeezing his hips with her thighs. “For you?”

Be hums thoughtfully. “Aye. Being with the woman I love is all that I need.”

It’s true, what he tells her that night. He sends his resignation via email in the middle of the night, packing his things while she watches but too tired from their second go round to help him. They leave for Boston the next morning, before anyone can ask questions. He had asked her questions, of course, like whether she would miss Storybrooke or her family. She informed him that she simply came for a job and has no family to speak of, aside from him. And so they travel to Boston, building a life together that’s exactly as they want it.

~~~~

#priest!killian #cs smut #cs fluff #kiss prompts #cs ff #don’t like don’t read #hehehe 😅😬

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omgrachwrites · 3 years

Text

Falling Stars (Sequel to Tell A Tale of You and Me) Chapter Two

Pairing: Dean Thomas x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a brewing war you fall for one of your classmates, a boy that you used to know. When you have the chance to fight against evil, you fight for what you believe in.

Chapter Summary: Tensions rise between Umbridge and Harry, forcing Dean and Cass to be civil with one another. Meanwhile, competition arises on the Quidditch pitch.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, swearing, sassy Harry

Words: 2645

Disclaimer: I haven’t read The Order of The Phoenix in so long so the timeline might be out of wack!

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

previous part masterlist prequel next part

Chapter Two - The Pink Toad

Dean woke up, shivering slightly in the drafty dormitories – with all the magic in Hogwarts he thought someone would have taken the initiative to make the castle warmer. He was in a bad mood already and for a moment he couldn’t think why and then, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The 5th year Gryffindors and Slytherins were going to be having their first lesson with Umbridge in Defence Against the Dark Arts. To hear other people talk about it, it seemed like she didn’t know what she was doing, they said that she should have stayed at the Ministry.

He mulled over his thoughts as he walked over to the window and watched the quiet grounds begin to stir beneath the glow of the rising sun. Dean couldn’t deal with another shit Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Dumbledore should have brought Lupin back – even if he was a werewolf – he had been the best Professor they’d ever had.

Though, it wasn’t all that bad, today Quidditch try outs were taking place tonight, he had wanted to try out for the team last year but all of the matches had been cancelled due to the Triwizard Tournament. He was itching to climb onto his broom and zip through the late summer air. Once Seamus was awake – he didn’t say a word to Dean, Seamus was the worst person ever in the morning – they both got dressed and made their way to The Great Hall. Dean’s insides were already aching with hunger.

Dean perked up even more when he smelled all the amazing breakfast food and he sat by Fred and George Weasley, piling toast and bacon onto his plate.

“You trying out for the team then, Thomas?” Fred asked – or it might have been George – the twins both had identical smirks on their faces. The Weasley twins had been on the Quidditch team since Dean’s first year, they were extraordinary beaters.

“Of course,” Dean grinned, feeling excitement course through his body, “tonight’s try outs are going to be a blast!”

“You guys haven’t heard?” Dean looked around at the sound of a voice and his heart dropped when he saw Harry nervously running his fingers through his hair, “the Slytherins must have gotten wind of our try outs tonight because they booked the pitch before Angelina had the chance. Our try outs have been pushed to Saturday,” he scowled.

“What?” the four boys gasped in horror and Dean looked over at the Slytherin table.

Cass was laughing with her friends as she raised a mug to her lips; her eyes flickered over to Dean for a moment before she looked back at her friends. She looked radiant and beautiful, like she didn’t have a care in the world and that pissed Dean off, he turned back to his friends with a frown.

“I bet that Cass had something to do with this, this is so like her,” he moodily stabbed at his food.

Seamus rolled his eyes as he shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth, “mate,” he started with his voice muffled, “you say that you don’t give a shit about her but, Merlin, I think you’re obsessed. Not everything that happens is her fault.”

In the back of Dean’s mind he knew himself that Seamus was right and it had probably had nothing to do with Cass. However, he was still so annoyed with her that he wouldn’t even entertain that idea.

On their way to class, Dean’s eyes impatiently searched through the sea of people in the corridor, “this isn’t a good idea mate,” Seamus scoffed.

“Please, just give us a second, yeah?” he offered his best mate a smile before going back to the task at hand and he spotted Cass as she was about to walk into class.

“Oi, Cass!” he called out to her, making her stop in her track and she gave him a surprised look as he caught up with her, “why would your team book the damn pitch for tonight? We were supposed to have our try outs.”

Cass rolled her eyes and Dean noticed the glimmer of disappointment in them and he almost felt guilty, “do I look like the team captain? Everything that goes wrong in your life isn’t my fault you know,” she hissed before storming into the classroom.

“Told ya,” Seamus snickered.

Umbridge hadn’t come down from her office yet so Dean contented himself with doodling a lion devouring a snake while Lavender and Parvati made a bird out of paper and had charmed it to soar through the air. As it flew over to Dean and Seamus, Dean laughed, “go on, Seamus. Hit it!” he goaded his best friend and Seamus landed a successful hit, blowing it off course. In the next second, it burst into flames making the class jump.

Dean scowled as a toad like woman stood at the front of the class wearing the ugliest shade of pink ever seen. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as a sickly sweet perfume smell wafted towards him. Umbridge started like all the other teaches had by explaining the importance of OWLS, before she handed out a beginners handbook.

“Your introduction to this subject has been uneven, probably due to the fact that you’ve had half breeds teaching you and whatnot,” there was mirth in her voice and it annoyed Dean massively.

“If you must know, Professor Lupin was the best teacher we’ve ever had. So what if he’s a werewolf?” most of the class murmured in agreement and Dean clenched his teeth in anger as Umbridge gave him a sweet smile.

“That will be five points from Gryffindor, Mr Thomas,” she let out a high pitched laugh that went right through Dean.

“Dean is right though! How is it Remus’ fault that he got bitten? He didn’t ask for that to happen! It shouldn’t make it impossible for him to get a job, he’s not dangerous,” Cass piped up.

Dean whirled around to look at her; her usually warm eyes were hard as she stared at Umbridge with a furious expression. Dean agreed with Cass though he hated to admit it and would never say it out loud. Cass made eye contact with Dean and her eyes softened as she smiled at him gratefully. Dean gulped and looked away.

Umbridge smirked as her nostrils flared but she didn’t tell Cass off. Instead, she smiled at a couple of people on the front row who had got their wands out, “oh, you can put those away, my dears.”

“We’re not going to be using magic?” Ron mumbled, his voice held all of the confusion that everyone else was feeling.

“Why on earth would you need to use magic dear?” she let out another annoying high pitched laugh.

“Oh, of course,” Harry gasped as he slapped a hand against his forehead, “because when Voldemort comes after all of us, the last thing we’ll need to know is defensive magic, dear me, the thought of it. Ron, how could you ask such a silly question?” sarcasm laced Harry’s voice, making Dean smirk to himself as everyone waited for Umbridge’s response with baited breath.

Umbridge barely flinched at the use of You-Know-Who’s real name and her sickly sweet smile almost faltered, “you and your tall tales, Mr Potter. The Ministry would be protecting everyone if the Dark Lord was back.”

Dean glanced over at Harry when he let out a scoff to see that Harry had his hands on the table, clenching his fists, “so, Cedric Diggory spontaneously combusted did he?” Harry’s tone was dry as he glared at Umbridge, “Voldemort killed him! And you’re an idiot for not admitting it!”

Someone near the back of the room gasped at Harry’s words and everyone got ready to watch Umbridge murder Harry. Umbridge’s face was drained of colour as she scrawled on a piece of parchment and simply said in a steady voice, “come here, Mr Potter,” when Harry stormed up to her desk, she gave him the parchment, “take this to Professor McGonagall, off you go dear,” Harry scoffed as he snatched it off her and stormed out of the room, not looking back.

The rest of the lesson continued in silence, nobody dared to speak to one another. At the end of the class, Cass caught up with Dean, “intense huh?”

Dean was still reeling from the shock of Harry’s words that he momentarily forgot the bitterness he had towards her, “yeah,” he laughed, scuffing his shoe against the floor.

“It was nice of you to speak up for Remus,” she smiled, leaning against the cold stone wall.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly as his cheeks grew hot and he tried to ignore the peaceful feeling in his chest, “thought it was only fair to defend the guy when he wasn’t there to defend himself,” he cleared his throat, “it was good of you to speak up for him too.”

“I would do anything and say anything for the people that I care about,” she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes as she bit her lower lip and Dean swallowed nervously, “I thought you would know that by now,” she gave him a small smile and pushed off from the wall, “see you around,” she nodded at him and then she was off, walking down the corridor with Astoria.

“So, the both of you can have a civil conversation without biting each other’s head off,” Seamus smirked.

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

As you stood with your back against the Quidditch stands you shivered in the freezing evening air as you watched the try outs, waiting for your turn to try out for the position of Keeper. Your teeth chattered as you stuck your hands in the inside of your coat and pulled the letter from your dad out of the inside pocket. You smiled down at the piece of parchment as you read over the words again in the perfect script. He was wishing you luck at the try outs, he knew how important Quidditch was to you.

All you wanted to do was make him proud, you knew that Harry made him proud but Harry had that effect on the adults in his life who loved him. It seemed so easy for him, he was a hero. You just wanted to make Sirius proud of who you were. Your breath came out as smoke as you watched your housemates zip through the sky in all directions. All you wanted to do was zip through the sky with them; hopefully it would warm you up. It was strange that Draco wasn’t trying out this year; he loved a bit of attention.

You jumped slightly as you felt warmth against your elbow and you glanced to the side to see Astoria holding a steaming cup of something hot, “this is for you, you look freezing,” she laughed as she passed you the cup.

You grinned at her as you lifted the cup to your lips and swallowed down the hot chocolate, humming at the thickness of it, it burned your tongue slightly but you didn’t care all that much, you were just thankful for the heat, “thank you so much,” you licked your lips as the hot drink warmed your insides, “what are you doing here? You hate Quidditch,” you narrowed your eyes as you realised just why she was here, “Draco’s not playing this year, sorry to disappoint you,” you laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not here for him Cass, I’m here for you. I know that I hate Quidditch, just don’t see the point of it all but I know how much you love it and you’re my best friend, so I came here to support you.”

Astoria’s words were so sweet and kind that you threw your arms around her in a tight hug, “I love you, you’re amazing. You know that?”

“Of course I know that,” she laughed, winking at you as she linked your arm through yours and leaned her head on your shoulder, “uh oh, incoming.”

You bit your lip as Dean, Harry, Seamus and Ron were coming out of the castle heading for the stands behind you. It seemed as though Harry and Seamus had put aside their rivalry in the name of Quidditch, the thought made you roll your eyes. What were they doing here? Were they here to sabotage you?

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” you turned around to face the Gryffindor boys, shouting against the howling wind.

Dean smirked, just enough for his dimples to be on display and even from here you could see his eyes flash with an emotion that you didn’t recognise, “I’ve missed out on Quidditch for the past two years, I’m not waiting till Saturday to be able to watch some! It’s got nothing to do with you,” he raised an eyebrow at you as he slouched against his chair, making you scowl at him.

Harry laughed as he shot you a smile, “and we wanted to see what form your players were on!” he would never tell you outright but you knew he was here to offer you some support and you appreciated it. You shook your head at the boys before turning back to watch the try outs, painfully aware of their eyes on you.

Finally, the captain looked at you, “Cass? C’mon, let’s go!” Astoria gave you a supportive smile and a pat on your shoulder as you walked onto the pitch, mounting your broom as you soared through the air to guard the hoops.

The first couple of throws the captain directed at you were easy saves; there wasn’t much spin on the Quaffle so you could have saved it with your eyes closed. However, every time you made a mediocre save, you could hear Astoria screaming as if you had made an amazing save and it made you laugh, she really didn’t understand Quidditch. You didn’t feel the cold anymore; the adrenaline you felt made it all go away

“C’mon! Give me a challenge!” you shouted to the troll like boy who was hovering on his broom, holding the Quaffle, he smirked at you as he sent the ball hard and fast with a lot of spin on it.

You kicked, caught and booted the ball with the end of your broomstick, sending it back to him and every time he caught it with a taken aback look on his face. There was a save that you almost didn’t make, it was too far off to the side but you caught it between the tips of your fingers. You heard the small crowd below you gasp and you glanced down to see Dean looked impressed – though he would never admit it – it only made him more handsome.

By the end of try outs, it was no question that you had been the best Keeper, and you were looking forward to practise the following week. As you walked towards Astoria she grinned at you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “that was amazing! I can’t believe that you’re my best friend.”

You rolled your eyes at her words but you couldn’t help but smile a little, as you walked back into the castle together, desperate to get out of the cold night air, “oi, Cass!” you whipped around as you heard Dean calling after you.

Astoria gasped a little in delight as Dean jogged towards you, a competitive glint in his eye, “Gryffindor are going to kick your arse in the first match,” you laughed and it felt like things were better between you and Dean.

However, as the rest of the boys ran up to you, Dean’s expression dropped and his eyes went hard and cold again. It was obvious that apart from the competitive banter, nothing had changed.

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

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

tapestry 👑 III

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader speaks up.

Note: Here’s part 3. I’m still going while I can. Fair warning that I work every day given the holiday season and so I’ll do my best to keep up but so far I’m having fun and you all are too. I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

It was a week before your father returned. A gruelling week.

You weren’t surprised to hear of his arrival from another. Nor disappointed that he didn’t call for you immediately. That was your father’s way. He doted on Alice and shunned you. She brought him esteem with her marriage to a duke and you brought him disgrace with your failure to garner even a betrothal. The convent lurked on your horizon.

When he did send for you, the dread sank deep in your chest. The thought of your inevitable meeting hung over you all day and to face him was an obstacle in itself. Even as a small girl, you’d managed to stoke his ire. You were too quiet, and when you were not quiet enough, you were flowery and irritating. Not like Alice; refined and endearing.

Your father’s servant led you to his chambers. As a lower lord, he had no receiving chamber, merely a screen between his bed and his desk. You entered with your head dipped. A quill scratched noisily on parchment as the servant informed your father of your presence and retired to his vigil beside the door.

Your father didn’t look up. A candle sat on his desk as he wrote and the lanterns did little to add to the hazy glow of the amber fire. His grey hair was combed back as it always was; thick despite his age. His lips moved along with the words he spilled from his nib.

“Father,” You greeted. He didn’t even nod. You waited, hands clasped before you. “Is Alice well?”

He lifted his quill and dabbed dry its end. He sat back and looked at you with a tilt of his head. He placed the pen on his desk and sighed. “Daughter.” His eyes were dull, unimpressed. Disinterested even though it was he who prompted the visit. “Yes, she is well. As is the child. A grandson.”

“And mother? She has remained with Alice?” You asked. You were hopeful she would’ve returned to court and offered you an ounce of companionship.

“For the time being. Until they are ready to return to court. Though the duke should return within the month.”

Your father spoke grimly. His tone rarely wavered; rarely rose above a monotone. Only with the king or some higher lord did he show a trace of humanness.

“So all is in order.”

“Is it?” Your father wondered as he leaned on the arm of his chair.

You blanched. You hoped it was. The king had not bothered you since that night after the banquet, the queen remained ever gracious, though Rose was as thorny as the flower. But all seemed to be as it was and just in time for your father’s return. You’d thought your prayers answered; the rumours swept away before he could hear of them.

“Of course, father.” You assured him. You felt so small before him.

“Mmm,” He considered you. His lips curled in a sinister smirk. “You danced with the king?”

“At his request,” You replied. “But you know I haven’t a quick step, father.”

“You needn’t remind me of your shortcomings, daughter,” He quipped. “But it surely must have been adequate for as I hear it, he called for you the next night.”

“An invitation which I refused.” You said plainly. “As a proper lady would.”

“A foolish lady.” He gripped the arm of the chair as his lips turned downward. “So it is true?”

“Would you rather I accept and tarnish my reputation? Our family’s name?”

“I’d rather you seek the rare favour you can find in this world.” He spat. “You are as daft a woman as you were a child.”

“Forgive me, father, but I only did as I thought you’d wish me to.” You pleaded. “You wouldn’t want me to resign myself to a life as the wife of a second son.”

“As it is, I’d prefer you the wife of any.” He huffed. “And if you cannot achieve that, a king’s mistress is a fine consolation.”

You frowned. How could he not be proud of your resolve? Of your restraint? He always lectured you on propriety and now he sneered at it.

“I would rather the convent.” You hissed.

“You must realize, girl, that this is not about your whims, but the king’s. Should he will you on your back, you will lay before him as he pleases.” He snarled. “So if he should come to you again, you will not deny him.”

“He has not in the week since.” You assured him.

“And I doubt he will now.” Your father grumbled. “As always, you’ve ruined it all.”

“I’ve only done as you taught me to.”

“Enough of your insolence.”

“My insolence? I will not be used by the king--”

“This is not about the king. It is about me, your father, and your family.” He stood and planted his hands on his desk. “You could do more as the king’s whore than the wife of some lowly baron of the marshes. If you were not so heedless, you might even raise our name. The Marquess of Lofton was but an earl before the king thought to take his daughter to bed.”

“I will not trade my virtue for your advancement.” You gritted.

“For what other purpose is a daughter good for?” He hurled viciously. “You shall lift your skirts for my fortune one way or the other. Better it be a king, than a pauper.”

“I will not.”

“You will,” He pushed himself straight and stormed around the desk. He rushed towards you and glared down as he slid to a stop. “If the king has not already found another fancy, you will do as he wishes. Should he return to you, you will welcome him fondly.”

“No.” You growled as you set your shoulders. “I will not.”

“You will,” He struck you so hard you stumbled back. You touched your cheek softly as it burned. “Because you are my daughter. My property.”

You held your tongue. You gulped as you dropped your hand and stood straight. You blinked.

“Father.” You said evenly.

“Understood?” He sneered.

“I understand you.” You twined your fingers together tightly. You might understand his wishes but you would not obey him. Let him rage and send you off to the nunnery when he realized.

“Good. Now be off. I’ve more important business than my impetuous daughter.” He turned back and rounded his desk. “I swear, you’ve always been intent on ruining me.”

You muttered a farewell as he sat. As you turned, the servant avoided your gaze and you swept past him through the door. In the hall, the air was cool against your hot cheek. You took a deep breath to steady yourself. You hoped it was already too late and your spurning of your father’s ambitions was already complete.

👑

When you returned to your chamber, the other ladies were on their beds. They read or sewed, and were oddly quiet. You didn’t realize at first why. You were drained from your meeting with your father and just wanted to forget about it. Foremost, you wanted to forget about court and its spectacles.

Then you saw it. The small box on your pillow. It sat on a folded note and you held your breath. In dread, anxiety, and fear. You looked around the shared room. You caught Sybil watching you as Joan and Marion tried to hide their eyes behind their books. You lowered your chin and sighed quietly.

You neared the top of the bed and reached for the box. You unfolded the note with nervous fingers and the scrawl within seemed to move around. You could barely focus as you thought of your father and his anger. At last, the letters stood still and you read with bated breath.

My lady,

I have counted the ways I might apologize. For my assumptions, my insinuations, and gross misstep. My intent was never to demean, never to offend, and so I cower in my remorse. In my regret for how crudely I treated you.

I am of loose impulse. I act often without truly thinking. I let myself be led by my emotions and my thought is left to wither. As I did with you. I was selfish. I did not foresee the implication of my invitation. I did not think of you or your status. For that I apologize, deeply.

But I cannot apologize for how I feel. For the sudden and fervent desire that has arose in me. The want to know you, to know more of you, to know everything of you. I will not apologize for that would stain you; your beauty, your wit, your very person.

I should like to atone for my indiscretion. To bring you pleasure rather than displeasure. So I include, with this most heartfelt and since apology, a gift and I beg your forgiveness. I beg of you mercy. I beg of you only...you.

Your king.

You slowly lowered the parchment and looked to the box. You bit your lip and glanced around at the girls. They weren’t being so subtle anymore. You folded the paper up and set it with the box as you went to your chest. You pulled out your own square of paper and went to the desk you shared with the others.

You sharpened a nib and took a pen. You dipped it in the ink and a shadow passed over you as Sybil neared.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to open the gift?” She asked.

“No, I mean to return it.” You began to write your message. Concise enough you hopped your point was taken.

Your Highness,

While I appreciate your apology, it is entirely unnecessary. I’ve already accepted your amends and as I stated, bear to you no animosity. While a gift is most flattering, it is improper and undue. I am thence, with the utmost respect, required to return to you your kindness though your forethought is recognized.

Your loyal subject.

You folded up the small slip and stood. Sybil was aghast and Joan watched with a smug smirk.

“As you should return it,” Joan sang, “We all know it is an empty gesture. A scheme to irk Rose. The king is loathe of her triteness though he loves her wholly. You...well, he only wants a puppet.”

“Oh, Joan, what do you know?” Marion chirped. “You’re only jealous that you’re neither of them and you’ll be left to marry that chubby Earl from Priskam.”

“I have seen the letters the king writes to Rose, I have seen the love in his eyes,” Joan insisted. “And I have seen this little mouse in her hole and she is pathetic.”

“Then you should know what lies within this letter,” You said as you went to your bed to fetch the box and the king’s letter. “And know that they are the same words he has written to a dozen women before myself. Before Rose.”

“Rose was right. You are despicable.”

“I am honest. And I see this place for what it is.” You pressed your letter to the box as you turned to the door. “I know that words are never meant as they are said. There is an edge to each syllable.” You opened the door and looked back. “Sybil, may I request a favour? Or Marion?”

“You may,” Marion spoke first.

“I should not go unaccompanied to return this. I don’t think it would be decent. Will you walk with me?” You asked.

“I will,” Marion rose and closed her book. “I should like to stretch my legs before we retire for the night.”

“Thank you.”

“Not at all,” She nodded to the door. “Let us to our task before curfew should deem us unseemly.”

You gave a small smile and led her into the corridor. She pulled shut the door and turned to walk beside you. She was quiet at first; you were nervous as you fidgeted with the small box.

“Are you not at all curious?” She asked at last.

“Naturally,” You confirmed. “But I don’t dare to look lest I be tempted to keep it.”

“Ah,” She raised her pale brows. “You shouldn’t mind Joan, she’s jealous. And she’s far too enamoured with Rose.”

“I don’t mind her.” You said.

“Do you think the king will be upset?”

“Perhaps, but he has no reason to be. I suppose, however, that a man of his stature finds much to be displeased with and none to tell him he shouldn’t be.” You reflected. “I have made an enemy of Rose already, I do not need the queen a foe as well.”

“The queen knows the king strays.” Marion said.

“Her knowledge does not make it right. Her acceptance is not of her own will. What can she do?” You stopped as you reached the corridor along which the king resided. “As women, we are all given to circumstance we do not desire.”

Marion considered you. Her warm eyes bore into hers and she nodded. “There is much more going on in your head than I supposed.” She remarked. “Thoughts I’d never think to have myself.”

You looked at the box. Your father’s voice echoed in your head. If he was here, he’d slap you again. You raised your head and set your shoulders.

“Let this be the end of it.” You declared as you marched forward.

You’d never been down this way. Never thought you would. How did one knock on a king’s door. Well, was it necessary with the guards without? The men in mail watched your approach as Marion trailed behind. There helmets bobbed as they observed you with amused grins. How many women had they greeted in the evening hours?

“Sirs,” You nodded at one guard and then the other. “I would request the king, only if he should be available, of course.”

“The king?” The guard on the left looked over your shoulder at Marion. “You, her, or the both of you?”

“I come here on my own charge but she accompanies for decorum,” You explained. “If the king is engaged, I shall leave a letter for you to pass to him.”

“The king is alone. He may receive you,” The right guard assured you. “He’s not one to turn away a lady.”

“I would prefer he emerge,” You asserted. “It would be untoward to enter his chamber.”

“A receiving chamber is meant for that purpose, lady,” The guard returned.

“Even so, if he cannot be drawn from his privacy, I shall leave this with you.” You held up the box and letter folded atop its lid.

“Ah, don’t need to be so impatient.” The guard knocked on the door with his elbow. The sound barrelled down the hallway.

The door opened and the king’s footman, Hugh, scowled at the guard. His eyes blinked at the mailed men then turned on you. His forehead wrinkled in recognition and he spoke at last. “What is the bother?”

“This lady is here to see the king.”

“Very well, then send her in,” Hugh said sharply.

“She will not enter.” The left guard intoned.

“Says it’s indecent.” The other added.

Hugh sighed and looked to you again. He squinted and shook his head before disappearing within. You could hear his voice and then the king’s. Both were slightly muffled and followed by a stir. You waited and glanced over your shoulder at Marion. She looked as anxious as you felt.

Footsteps and then another shadow in the door. This one broader, taller. You bowed as the king appeared. His lips parted as he saw you and he let out a deep breath.

“My lady?” He greeted.

“Your highness,” You returned. Did your voice tremble? You could not tell. “My apologies for the disturbance but it was pertinent that I seek an audience.”

He nodded and stared at the box in your hands. “Did you like my gift?” He asked.

You swallowed. “I did not open the gift, though I did read your letter,” You felt it hard to breath. His eyes never left you. It was as if you were alone, as if there were no guards, as if Marion didn’t linger behind you. “I appreciate the gesture but I am unable to accept it.”

“My lady, do you reject my apology?”

“I...It is in my letter, your highness, but there is no apology required.” You held out the box and stepped tremulously toward him. “You must take it back.”

“I will not.” He insisted. “It is for you.”

“There is no reason for it and I cannot accept a present from a married man.” The box shook and you stilled your hands. “You may refuse to rescind it but I will not take it. I shall leave it upon the floor if I must.”

His blue eyes focused on you. They were stern but not angry. In them, a glimmer of confusion, a spark of provocation. He pressed his lips together before he spoke. “You refuse upon the grounds of my marriage?”

“I refuse on the grounds that it is improper.” You said. “On the grounds that I’ve accepted your apologies once and shall not do so again. On the grounds that I am a lady with a reputation to uphold should I have any hope of a betrothal.” Your voice had risen and you were embarrassed at the realization. “I wish that you take it back.”

“If you wish, I should happily appease you,” He stepped forward and reached out to take the box. His fingers grazed yours and his lips twitched. “For whatever you wish, I would give you, my lady. Whatever you will, you shall have. By my hand, by my order.”

His tone made you shiver. You rescinded your arm and clapped one hand over the other to uphold your composure. “Thank you, your highness.” You said. “It is late and I must return to my chamber.”

“So it is,” He accepted as he cradled the box in his hands. “And so you must.” He bowed his head and you curtsied to him. “Good night, my lady.”

“Good night, your highness.” You said as you began to back away.

The king watched, his gaze unwavering as you retreated. There was a promise in his eye, a nonchalance in the way he held the box, how he only looked away to open it and peek inside. He turned as he snapped it shut and his guards stared ahead stiffly. His broad back disappeared behind his door and Marion gasped as she finally let out her breath.

“My lord,” Marion swore. “I thought I would pass out.”

“Me, too.” You said as you grabbed your skirts. You spun around and didn’t dare look back. “Let us be away. Quickly.”

#dark!steve rogers #king!steve #medieval au #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #series #fic #tapestry #dark!fic #au #captain america #mcu #marvel #dark fic #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

1K notes · View notes

drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Uncover

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word count: 4.8K

Summary: Leah goes on a date with the Tobias Carrick, Ethan's ex-best friend. The jealousy and anger which unfolds within Ethan, leads him to confronting Leah. But in midst of their confrontation, feelings are uncovered.

Author's note: It's angst in the first half and towards the end it's smut... I have differentiated it if you aren't comfortable :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

Songs: Uncover by Zara Larsson and Missed you by The Weeknd

Forgive me if there are any mistake

Ethan was walking down the hallway of Leland Bloom's mansion. To be honest, he didn't even know where he was but his pride wouldn't let him go and ask for help.

Just keep going, you will eventually find the way.

That was his mantra in life. Whenever things became difficult, he would keep on pushing forward, never stopping. His mom left him? Study, work and get into a good college. Tobias and him had a fallout? Work harder, get into a better undergrad program than him and go on to join the best diagnostics team in the country. Naveen fell sick? Stuff all the feelings in a box, shut it and work hard till Naveen can stay alive.

He never stopped. He switched off his feelings and kept marching forward.

But when he met Leah, it felt like he came across a speed breaker, which forced him to stop. Forced him to breathe. Forced him to feel. Forced him to be human.

And the funny thing is that, he didn't know whether to be grateful or be terrified of this change.

Leah had a fiery spirit and a kind heart. They were so alike that it often took Ethan's breath away. They were the dream team, complementing each other. They worked like a well oiled engine, their dynamics so superior that they could complete each other's sentences.

Leah and Ethan.

Sunshine and E.

But being alike had its downfalls as well. Both of them were stubborn and had their head all the way up their asses.

He had still not forgotten the way she opened the door to her room in bra and panties. The way the golden rays illuminated her long tanned legs and the way the lace contrasted her flawless body, sent Ethan reeling through memories of them lying naked in that very bed.

And as if that wasn't enough, she stripped in front of him. The most incriminating thoughts ran through his head and he had to clench his fists to prevent himself from fucking her against the wall, having her scream his name, as her nails dug into his back. There would be red scars down his back but he would wear those scars as a damn medal.

But he was angry and furious as well. Going behind his back and calling that air head of an influencer made his blood boil. It went against the beliefs and the rules based on which, the diagnostics team was laid.

There are rules of the world that are meant to be followed. Monotony, no matter how boring it is, is the way of life. It's not always safe to shake things up. You never know what consequences arise.

On their way to the patient's mansion, they bickered like a married couple. June and Baz had a field trip seeing him being called out by Leah.

She called him a fucking diva.

All his life he had worked on building a reputation which commanded respect and awe but this girl just comes in like a wrecking ball.

Good lord, how can this woman make me pissed and turned on at the same time?! He grumbled internally as he turned the corner.

He heard Tobias's deep voice carry over."I must say Dr. Garcia, you are a vision and you take my breath away. Such a beauty-"

"Dr. Carrick if you want to flatter me, you are going about it wrong. Screw beauty, that's subjective." Leah said as she wrote in the chart, without sparing a second glance at him.

She walked past him and Ethan couldn't help but chuckle at Tobias's expression. Tobias just gave him a dark glare before following her. He was proud of his Sunshine.

But that momentary pride diminished as soon as it came.

Ethan walked to the exit and saw Tobias talking to her again, and this time, Leah was laughing and blushing.

Why that asshole-

"No I must say, not everyday do you see such bright minds as yourself."

"Thank you Tobias. You are too kind."

They were on first name basis?! When did that happen? Did I step into an alternate universe? Ethan thought as jealousy slowly burnt bright in his veins.

"So, can I buy you breakfast tomorrow? As an apology and a chance to get to know you better?" Tobias asked, his turquoise eyes shimmering in the sun.

"Dr. Garcia. We need to run couple of tests on Mr. Bloom. Time waits for no one." Ethan called out to her, cock-blocking them. He wasn't gonna lie, that was the most satisfying thing he had ever done.

Both of them glared but Ethan just held an impassive face, as if he didn't hear their small 'cute' exchange.

"Yes, Dr. Ramsey." She walked towards Ethan not before waving him goodbye.

They walked towards Helen, Baz's cute mini cooper. "Leah..." Ethan spoke, wondering how to frame his sentence without sounding like a jealous imbecile.

"Yup Dr. Ramsey?" She turned to look up at him.

"Tobias... He isn't a good man."

"God, Ethan! I think I can decide for myself." Leah rolled her eyes.

"No, you don't get it. He charms and lures woman to his bed and after he has sex, he leaves them high and dry. I don't want you to go through that pain."

She stopped and turned towards him, "Ethan I am no weak bitch. I'm not naive and he isn't my first date. I am just goofing around and I will do whatever I want because this is a free country. And, in a long time some guy has shown me attention so I'm not letting that slide-"

"Sunsh-"

"Shh! And about pain... I think I have experienced that because of you."

"Me?" He gasped out loud, his world stopping. Doesn't she know that my feelings for her are so strong that the thought of hurting her physically pains me?

"You heard me. Your constant rejection and the 'hot and cold' moments pain me so damn much. It breaks my heart that we pretend that we are together but when I ask you, you close up."

"Leah you know there are ethics-"

"Don't give me that ethics and moral crap. You yourself said that I am not a resident, I am a PEER. A colleague. Hell, Lahela and Harper have been dating and absolutely nobody has blinked an eye." She said with a steely voice.

Leah gave a sigh and Ethan could see the dark circles under her eyes. She looked so tired. "Ethan... I- I'm so exhausted. You can't reject me and prevent me from seeing a guy." With that she turned on her heels and walked away.

What just happened? Ethan thought, feeling shaken to the core.

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Leah wore a simple pencil skirt and tucked in her olive green blouse into the skirt. Her hands continued their daily chores, but her mind was so far away. When she thought about Ethan, she would get so angry that her hands would tremble.

Just who the hell does he think he is? Wasn't he the one who kept pushing her away? Wasn't he the one you said that "if I gave a damn about you, I won't be with you"?

What a damn hypocrite.

There was so much tension between them already. Ethan was giving her the cold shoulder and Leah returned it with such a punishing silent treatment that people on the entire floor could feel it.

They already had fought about the team giving more priority to rich and wealthy patients. And this entire Tobias situation made things even worse. She knew about their background, about how that his ex girlfriend, Stephanie bitch played both of them like a violin and ended up cheating on Ethan. She knew and yet she went ahead, flirting with him, repeating history.

What a hoe I am. Leah shook her head getting annoyed with herself. What has gotten over you Leah? When did you become a fucking hypocrite? Throwing yourself at other men so that you can make Ethan jealous?

Her feelings were in a flux. Sometimes, she wanted to jump his bones and other times she wanted to bash his head for being such a colossal pain in the ass. She craved him and wanted him to belong to her, but life isn't a wish granting factory.

She sighed and stared at her reflection, seeing how all the stress and workload was taking a toll on her.

I just need sleep...or some dick and then we will be golden. A girl gets tired using her own hand... Her conscience comforted her.

Picking up her bag she headed to the deli where she was supposed to meet Tobias for their so called 'breakfast' date.

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Tobias was a nice guy. He was kind, brilliant and handsome. He was a true gentleman. He held the door open for her when they entered the deli. He had an amazing sense of humor and managed to make her laugh till her sides hurt. He was intelligent and they had a great discussion on the American healthcare system.

Any other woman would have thought that he was the complete deal.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't help but compare him to Ethan. His cerulean eyes were so much darker than Ethan's stormy eyes. She couldn't help but think that she found Ethan's dark humor and sarcasm way better that the light hearted jokes. She couldn't help but think that in any discussion, Ethan would push her and challenge her rather than be a simp like Tobias who just would give in.

She couldn't help but think that absolutely no one would ever compare to Ethan.

Oh. My. God.

It is Ethan. Always has been and always will be.

And she hated herself for that. She was getting tired of waiting. Wasn't her affection enough for him? Why was there a need to complicate something that is already so simple?

Leah sighed internally. Tobias and her were walking down the driveway of the hospital. There were just talking about random things but Leah was not able to focus.

How could she when she had a mind shattering revelation that her pussy is whipped for a certain hard-ass diagnostician?

They were walking through the foyer and they stopped at the reception.

"So this is me." Leah smiled.

"Well... I enjoyed myself. " He gave a grin.

"I did too..."

"I sense a 'but'." The blue perceptive eyes noticing the hesitation.

Leah chuckled, racking her brain for a good reason. " Yeah... I'm sorry it won't work because we technically are rivals and I don't want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy."

Tobias stared at her some more, trying to see through the truth but Leah didn't flinch, even if her palms were getting sweaty.

"It's okay. I get it-" Tobias began talking but he was interrupted.

He was interrupted by Ethan's fist in his face.

Tobias crumpled to the floor like a paper doll and suddenly the entire hospital's eyes were on the three.

"Motherfucker." Ethan shook his hand because of the blow. He stretched and clenched his fingers, his knuckles an angry red.

"Ethan Jonah Ramsey! You have five seconds to explain what the hell was that?" Leah said, her eyes glimmering with anger.

"What is he doing here? Mass Kenmore is all the way downtown."

"Don't you dare tell me that thi-" Leah was interrupted by Tobias's painful groans. She helped him up and threw another glare Ethan's way.

"When you have got your head out of your ass, we will have a chat." Leah spoke.

"But sunshi- Hey don't walk away from me!" Ethan pleaded. Seeing Tobias so close to her made him so angry and he didn't realize his actions before it was too late. And the fact that she had an arm around his waist and was walking away, just made his heart heavier and cold fury seep into his veins.

Leah ignored him as she dragged Tobias to the first examination room she found. She made him sit on bed and immediately reached for a pair of gloves.

She started wiping the blood up with the help of a cotton swab, analyzing the injury with cool calculated eyes. There was a cut on his cheekbone which needed stitches.

Goddammit Ethan.

"You have blood on your shirt." Tobias pointed out and surely it was visible on the dark green blouse.

She shrugged nonchalantly as she picked up another cotton swab and dipped it in antiseptic. "Eh.. won't be the first time. I have ruined my fair share of shoes and shirts, but it's worth it."

They were silent as Leah continued being thorough in cleaning the wound. Suddenly, Tobias chuckled and Leah looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

"No...it's just funny to see Ethan so worked up. I think that's the most emotion I have seen from him."

"Really?"

"Yup. Do you know what happened between us?"

"I know what happened between the both of you..."

"And you still went out with me?" Tobias asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Leah sighed. The cat was out of the bag and there was no point hiding it anymore. "It's just... Ethan can be a robot. I'm tired and I needed fresh perspective. That's why I went out with you."

"Did it help?"

"Yes. No. Maybe? It just left so many question marks in my head.." she picked up the needle and thread, getting ready to sew his face.

"Well... When Ethan walked in on his girlfriend cheating on him with me, he just turned around and walked out of the room. But when he saw me talking to you, I'm on the ground, groaning in pain. Does it help?"

Leah sighed "It kind of helps.. but I am still pissed with him. He is an asshole." She grumbled.

"Congratulations, you have feelings." He said in a sing song voice.

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It was an awful day at work and Ethan sending withering looks her way didn't really help. She avoided him for most of the day because she needed to think.

Her feelings were all over the place. On one hand she felt angry with Ethan because that hard-ass isn't ready to confess the feelings that's written all over his face. And on the other hand, she felt like she was just being a whiny bitch on heat, complaining about everything.

The internal war in her left her restless and irritated.

She unlocked the door to an empty apartment. All her roomates had driven down to Quincy for some music festival on their day off and were going to stay over for the night.

Leah would have gone with them, but a certain somebody had stormed into her room that morning and dragged her out of the comfort of her bed.

She stripped in the hallway and threw her clothes for a wash in the laundry basket. She slid on a long loose jersey and some fresh panties and headed to check the fridge for leftover lasagna Sienna had made the other day.

She was about to pop the tray in the oven when she heard the door bell ring. She saw through the peep hole and her eyes widened.

Ethan.

Maybe if I stayed quiet he would go awa-

"Sunshine, I know you are in there! I see your heels out here and your eyes through the peep hole."

Fuck Ethan and his observation skills.

Sighing she opens the door, where Ethan stood. A tense energy radiated from him and it made Leah jittery and on edge.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, which wasn't really a good idea because it made her bare boobs more prominent. Ethan's eyes went down at the movement.

"Eyes up here, hero. What do you want?"

Ethan blushed pink and shook his head to regain composure. "We need to talk."

"Yeah no shit."

"Will you let me in at least? Unless you want the crime scene of my murder out here." Ethan tried to joke but Leah wasn't fascinated.

She side stepped and he entered her apartment. He always liked Leah's apartment. It was homey with all the colourful pillows and the various vintage art decorating the place. From the huge glass facade you could see parts of the bay.

They stood in the kitchen, neither of them spoke. They just stood in silence. Nobody knowing what to say.

"Why did you help him?" Ethan asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Because you punched him and he was on the floor, bleeding. I had too."

"We work in a hospital. Somebody else could have stitched him up...why did you? Do you have feelings for him?" Ethan asked as he placed his elbows on the island counter.

"Ethan.. Jealousy never suited you well." Leah said.

"Dammit sunshine! Just answer the question. Do you like him?!"

"What would you do if I liked him, huh?" Leah asked tersely.

Silence. Heavy breathing. Tension.

"Nothing right. You would just sit there, belly up and see me being whisked off by another guy."

"That's not-"

"Stop lying to yourself Ethan. You are nothing but a ball- less bastard who hides behind your so called 'beliefs' and 'rules' and what not!"

"Yes! I hide behind them because I want to see you grow and be better-"

"WHY?! Haven't I become better? Am I not growing to my potential?"

"And that's because I am not distracting you."

"Ethan, for a man who is so smart you are so dumb. Can't you see? Can't you see that you are in my thoughts?! That I am always thinking about you?! That I am always afraid that you will find someone else and leave me in the dust?!"

"Ethan it's too late because you are already a goddamn distraction."

Ethan's fists wrapped around the counter and he bent down, trying to calm his racing heart.

"God. I knew this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have come." He started heading towards the door.

"Yeah run away Ethan. Run away like you ran away when you saw Tobias having sex with your girlfriend, Stephanie. Run away like you did when Naveen was gonna die. Run away like you did to the Amazon when your feelings for me intensified. Run away like you always do." Leah was breathing heavily, angry and furious.

Ethan froze in his tracks before turned around, scoffing. "I'm not running awa-" Ethan tried reasoning.

"Oh really?! Every time I think that I am close to knowing you, you throw up your walls. Every time we have a moment, you distance yourself. The entire universe has been pushing us to be together but here you are, defying it and turning a blind eye to what we have. If that isn't running away, then I don't know what is."

"Sunshine please, don't." Ethan pleaded. He can't deal with feelings. It's too much for him.

"No. I'm tired of waiting for your affections. I'm tired of the mixed signals. I'm going to go to Tobias's house right now-"

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"Have you left me any choice?" She started heading to her room and Ethan followed her.

"Sunshine please don't go. I beg you. He isn't the man you deserve."

"If you can't grow a pair despite everything, then I can't help you. I'm free-"

She was interrupted when Ethan pushed her against the wall. "No. You won't be leaving this apartment. Even if it means tying you down."

"You are not my damn keepe-" Leah began but Ethan interrupted her again when he pressed his lips against hers.

They were kissing. After almost a year.

After a year of longing to touch each other.

After a year of pining over each other.

After a year of pain, heartaches and tears.

But all that pain and longing vanished when their lips collided with each other's.

Time stopped when his lips met hers, but the flutter only intensified. Leah's heart pounded in her chest as her knees got weaker. She could only focus on how hard his body felt against her small frame. But at the same time, his lips were soft and fervent against her mouth.

Ethan kept his eyes half open, sneaking a guilty peek at her every time he came back for air, just to make sure this wasn't a product of his imagination.

He wasn't sure if nature rooted for this moment or if his mind tricked him into a perfect present, but every breath he took, smelled like lavender, like spring time and for the first time since he'd known himself, he didn't feel scared anymore. He didn't feel like running anymore. If anything, the warm feeling of her lips was inviting and addicting.

They parted for breath. Both of them standing with their bodies pressed against each other, in the dim lighting of her room. "Ethan..." She said like it was a prayer.

"Oh how I've missed you sunshine." Ethan cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Me too.."

"Let's make up for the lost time, okay?"

Leah just went in her tip toes and kiss him, conveying her need for him. He hiked one of her legs up and she gasped when she felt his growing erection on her heat. Ethan bent down and placed hot, fiery kisses up her neck. When he reached the spot below her ear, he whispered is a husky voice. "Sunshine... I really, really like you. But, I am a man of needs... Please, can I fuck you?"

"I did not wait for a year for some gentle sex Ethan. Don't hold back." She purred.

******************************************************

Ethan groaned at her words and took her earlobe in his teeth, his hands roaming around her body. He pinched her nipples through the t-shirt and Leah's stomach clenched with pleasure and she threw her head against the wall, enjoying the way Ethan's hands made her feel.

Leah reached and took of his jacket and Ethan obliged. The need to feel her skin against his, fueled his moments. Taking of her t shirt, he threw it across the room.

"Hey, don't dirty my room." Leah spoke with feign anger.

Lifting her up so that her legs could wrap around his waist, he went back to kissing her lips. "I don't care, sunshine. I just want to make you feel good. I want to worship you. So let me just do my job while you focus on how to scream my name, mkay?" He whispered against her lips before going back to ravaging her mouth, not able to get enough of her taste.

How is it possible for a man to drive me mad with only words?

He lifted her and threw her unceremoniously on the bed. Leah giggled as her back hit the soft mattress. She lifted herself on to her elbows and looked at Ethan's dark stormy eyes.

"You are over dressed for this occasion, Dr. Ramsey."

Taking his shirt and jeans off, he crawled in to the bed, stalking her like a predator. He settled between her legs, bare chest pressing against each other as he kissed her hard.

Their tongues swirled and rolled against each other's, as if it was a tug of war with no clear winner. He pulled back and started placing searing hot kisses on collarbone. His hands traced her sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He took her breast in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the dusky nipple. As his tongue continued to assault her nipples, Leah grew wetter and wetter.

"Ethan.. I- please.." She moaned out.

He took off her panties and nipped at her naked hip bone, eliciting a breathless moan from her. He peppered scratchy kisses on her inner thighs and lower abdomen, his beard making her skin sensitized. It felt as if all her nerves down there were on fire.

"Don't worry sunshine. I will be here all night-" he said as he parted her pussy's lips, "-eating you-"

He blew air on her dripping slit before speaking, "-fucking you-"

He lapped her juices slowly, his blazing blue eyes making contact with her dark brown orbs "-making you scream my name all night."

That being said, he threw her legs over his shoulder and buried his face into her womanhood. Leah's back arched and she let out another moan. Her sexy moans and the way her eyes fluttered shut was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He closed his eyes enjoying the way she tasted, reminding him of how starved he had been for the last one year.

She fisted her hands through his luscious brown locks as his tongue swirled her sensitive nub. He enjoyed seeing his sunshine this way, moaning and writhing as he ate her out.

He slipped his finger into her started moving it. When he gained enough momentum he slipped a second digit and continued to finger her to oblivion. Leah was a in a daze. Her mind was only focused on the handsome man who was with her, in her bed.

She had touched herself, thinking about him. But none of those fantasies compared to the real deal.

He let out moan and it reverberated through her entire body, pushing her of the edge.

She was coming, hard and fast. Crashing and soaring at the same time. She hadn't even come down from her high when Ethan lifted her leg as far as it could go, and entered her pulsating cunt.

"Try not to ruin your manicure when you dig those nails into my back, sunshine." Ethan said as he snapped his hips and started pounding her.

The sensation was overwhelming. It was so much. There were moments like these when the pleasure and the pressure of the orgasm was so intense that she wanted him to stop.

She shouted his name and the way the tears of pleasure streamed down her face, made him make his moments rapid.

"Just like that sunshine... Scream my name." He pressed his lips against hers, greedily swallowing the moans she let out.

Burying his head in her neck, he felt his lower abdomen tighten, the need to release becoming urgent with every stroke.

"Oh go, sunshine you feel sooo good." He moaned.

His moans are now my favourite sounds... I could hear them all day. Leah thought.

"Come with me Ethan. Come with me." She said as they interlinked their fingers, holding each other's hands.

And he did. His strokes became sloppy and slower as he dumped his load into the condom he had slipped on. Leah felt his dick jerk in her and it triggered her release as well.

***********************************************************

Both of them were falling together, holding on to each other as they rode the waves of euphoria, rushing through their veins. It was one of the best feelings they had experienced. All the pinning and sadness was all gone. There was only joy and the feeling of contentment in their hearts.

After their rapid heartbeats had calmed down, Ethan pulled out and got up from the bed, and stretched. Seeing the muscles of his back and abs stretch, Leah gave out a rumble of approval.

Ethan gave her a small smile and started heading towards the door but Leah caught his wrist. "Outside bad. Bed good." She said, her brain still a mess from the mind blowing orgasms.

Ethan bent down and kissed her forehead. "Sunshine, I'm just going to get some food and run a bubble bath."

"Okay."

After a couple of minutes of rummaging through cabinets, Ethan came and lifted Leah in his strong arms. Leah was smiling so much that her cheekbones hurt. She hasn't smiled like this in such a long time.

He put her down on the bathroom floor and Leah grabbed a stool where they could keep their drinks and the lasagna that he had heated.

Ethan first sunk in the hot water, the water reaching till his chest. Leah sat across him, sighing when the hot water soothed her sore muscles.

"Ethan...you are a goddamn blessing." She sighed as she picked up the plate with her food.

"I should be saying that. You changed my life."

They sat comfortably in the large bathtub, occasionally joking and eating the cheesy goodness. Leah inhaled her food, realizing just how hungry she was.

After they finished eating, Leah closed her eyes and sighed. Ethan was massaging her feet and she made it a personal mission to make him her masseur.

"Ethan?"

"Yes sunshine?"

"You won't run away from me, right?"

"No sunshine. I'm here to stay. In fact, tomorrow we both are going to go and talk to HR. Enough with the pining and the jealousy. I just want to make you mine, baby."

"Really?" Leah asked, with happiness gleaming in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Yes sunshine. I guess you are stuck with me."

Leah surged forward, water sloshing over the bathtub. She pressed her lips against Ethan's. He chuckled and kissed her back chastely and tenderly, pouring all his affections for the beautiful and intelligent woman before him.

Leah. His girlfriend. His sunshine.

And it's going to be together like that, forever and always.

aaahhhhh if only Ethan could just give in... but for now we will comfort ourselves with fan-fiction 😉

also, i want to sort out my tag list... so if you guys could dm me with which fics you want to tagged to, i would appreciate it 💗

like, comment and re-blog

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cordonian-literature · 4 years

Text

Reluctant Reunion

Summary: Olivia reflects on her relationship with Vivienne

Premise: majority of TRH thrown out the window, but some elements are present. overall i’d say this isn’t canon. the MC’s name is Vivienne (nicknamed Vivi). her and Liam have two children: Eleanor and Evangeline. the gang hasn’t seen each other much.

A/N: hi! so i wanted to practice some writing since i’ve been kinda out of it, so i decided to do a @wackydrabbles prompt! i’ve seen some people do it and just wanted to participate :) this week’s prompt is not everything is a joke, and will be in bold

A/N 2: the idea for this fic came from Prompt #1407 (i’ve changed it up a bit though). i don’t know if i’ll continue this or not, but i’ve been playing around with the idea and just might

Word Count: (+/-) 1540

Warnings: none (i think. feel free to call me out if im wrong)

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those unique to my story*

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Olivia tried to do what she could to keep Vivienne at arm’s length. But her smile was so disarming, and she was so genuine — how could one help the overwhelming want to get close to her, to be embraced by the soft care she expressed to everyone in her vicinity? Olivia didn’t want the bubbly feelings, the pounding in her chest. She believed that if she kept ignoring it, the emotions would go away.

The isolation of Lythikos allowed Olivia to stay focused; there was always some issue that would occupy her mind long enough so Olivia would not think of Vivienne, and would instead attend to her people’s concerns like the old rulers of Lythikos.

But Valtoria’s issues were not unique to Vivi’s duchy. The smallest familiarity between Valtorian and Lythikosian concerns would prompt a lighthearted, heartbreakingly friendly phone call from Vivienne. The Queen would invite the Duchess over for a discussion, and would afterward ask Olivia to extend her visit, which Olivia never did.

But something she couldn’t ignore was a surprise invitation from Duke Bertrand — “financial proposals need to be overlooked to confirm suitability for all duchies of Cordonia” prompted Olivia to start towards Ramsford. Olivia did not expect that the King, Queen, and their friends were already there.

It had been Lady Hana’s idea for them all to meet and enjoy an evening over tea after having spent months apart. But for the afternoon, the Queen and Duchess Olivia would attend Duke Bertrand’s meeting.

They both sat in front of Duke Bertrand, their chairs some feet apart, a distance Olivia felt keenly towards her left. Olivia’s chair fully faced the Duke, while Vivienne’s was turned so that in one swift glance she secured both their attentions.

Vivi didn’t hesitate in commenting that Bertrand’s proposal would negatively affect more than half the country. She opened up the discussion, allowing Olivia to speak first, then adding in her own opinions.

The three of them formed a rough plan with enough moving elements that at least one was sure to work. Leaving the office, Olivia made a beeline for the front of the estate.

Her heels tap sharply on the wooden floor. Olivia slows her pace so the taps are the same rhythm as the melody of Vivi’s voice, drawing Olivia into tranquil peace.

Unfamiliar tranquil peace. The inclusivity of Vivi’s words were not well-known to the Duchess that had come to terms with isolation. She wasn’t ready to embrace the friendships that she had disconnected from years ago.

She stood in the front of the estate, watching the fog lift and dance around the marble columns. Some puffs of clouds were so large Olivia could put herself in a daze and imagine she had climbed the North-most mountain in Lythikos, her body kindly begging for oxygen, the ghost of Misha just on her heel. Other warm clouds were so small that Olivia could close them in her palm and diminish it from its lonely existence.

And then it was time for tea. When Olivia walked into the sitting room, the soft colors of the curtain compliment the gentle conversation of the friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. Olivia takes a seat on an empty couch, attempting to avoid bringing attention to herself.

Olivia takes a long breath. She smells the scent of the tea on the small table in front of her, the dry lemony tang of furniture polish, and the faint scent of Vivi's perfume, who had come to sit next to Olivia.

Eleanor takes a seat on the gray velvet settee with her father and asks where her sister, Evangeline, is.

As if she'd been conjured by the mention of her name, the girl enters the room and grabs the pitcher off the table. Olivia notices that she is almost as tall as her father. Evangeline stares carefully at everyone's glass as she fills them, the tea pitcher looking like a child's toy in her hands.

She smooths the edge of her rose-colored dress as she sits near her mother, cupping the tea in her hands as if it were a valuable heat source. She looks over at her sister, who converses with Liam and Drake.

After she reached the age of twenty, Liam pulled Eleanor on the front lines of Cordonia’s issues, leaving the girl little time to spend with her family. Many called the Crown Princess rough, claiming her serious exterior was too extreme.

But now, next to her father and his friend, Eleanor is relaxed and leans back against the cushion. Evangeline eyes her sister, her own posture as stiff and straight as a wall. She analyzes the sleeveless, light green dress gently draped over Eleanor.

“Do you want me to put some ice in your tea?” Evangeline asks, motioning towards her sister’s casual attire. “You seem like you feel hot.”

Eleanor drifts apart from Liam and Drake’s conversation, a vacant smile on her face as she answers Evangeline. “No? Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing,” Evangeline smirks and takes a calm sip of her tea, a laugh hidden behind every word. “Just that I’ve never seen you wear something so… revealing.” She gives another critical look, her eyes glazing down to her sister’s shoes and back up to her face, giving an angry smile at the last second. “It doesn’t look too good on you. I’ll tell my dressmaker to make something that suits your style.”

“Thanks, but there’s no need.” Eleanor’s face falls as she turns back to her father.

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Evangeline leans over to put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I was just joking with you. It’s sarcasm. Ever heard of it?”

“Not everything is a joke just because you say it is. Sarcasm or not.” The sisters turn away from each other.

Vivi gives a gentle laugh in the direction of her daughters. “Drake was your babysitter once and all his sarcasm rubbed off on you.”

Conversations are paused as everyone absorbs Vivi’s words. Olivia remembers the diplomatic trip Liam and Vivi took to Italy less than two decades ago. Eleanor was able to come along, but Evangeline had been too small. Duke Bertrand and Lord Maxwell were also meant to make an appearance, Lady Hana was called to Shanghai to visit her parents, and Olivia had issues in Lythikos to attend to. The only person available had been Drake, and after that one week, he had become baby Evangeline’s favorite person.

When she was a child, she would constantly urge her parents to let her go on camping or fishing trips with Uncle Drake. Liam would always accompany them, but the younger sister had always been cold towards Eleanor, throwing a fit if her parents suggested she accompany them.

The group chuckles when they remember, even earning a smile from Olivia. But the grins dissolve into lost looks. They meet each other’s eyes, and though Olivia remains focused on the tea pitcher, she can sense the sad questions they kept to themselves: where had it all gone wrong? How did we let the distance become so large?

Olivia knows these questions depress those around her, but she has had a lifetime to adapt to them. From her lonely childhood — being her parents’ second priority, then being treated as the traitors’ daughter after they died. To growing distanced from the friends of her youth and her first love — Liam making it clear to her countless times that he would never reciprocate her feelings, and Olivia eventually coming to terms that such a love was never meant to be her’s. To a vast space having formed between her and the only woman that had ever believed in Olivia.

Maxwell gives an audible sigh. “If only my puns rubbed off on Eleanor.”

The girl rolls her eyes, while her sister inspects her freshly painted nails.

Maxwell playfully scolds her: “Were my play on words not good enough for you?”

Eleanor laughs, a bright smile lifting the mood of the room. She speaks of her childhood, everything she remembers and misses, the adults adding in silly details of her childish antics. But Olivia has no memories of Eleanor’s childhood, nor of Evangeline’s.

The friends’ conversations flowed gracefully, but Olivia could not contribute anything.

And so she stood and left, quietly lifting herself out of her seat and spinning towards the door. She wondered if her driver were ready to bring her back to Lythikos.

The fog embraces her, wrapping wet coils of air around her waist, drawing her away from Ramsford, away from memories she wasn’t a part of, away from Vivi.

But before she can lower her head and enter the limo, Vivi’s slender fingers wrap around Olivia’s wrist, drawing her away from the vehicle and slipping an envelope into her hands.

Her disarming smile doesn’t disappear until Olivia has opened the envelope: it’s an invitation to the palace.

Decline it, her head tells her.

Accept it, her heart tells her.

Vivi sighs, holding her arms against herself as if she were about to break.

“You’re cold,” Olivia states.

Again that smile. Vivi agrees to go inside, Olivia agrees to consider the invitation, though she doesn’t want to.

But her incompetent driver leads her to the palace anyway.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

i don’t have anyone to tag - but if you would like to be tagged if i continue this, let me know :)

#wacky drabbles #trr fanfiction #trr au fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #the royal heir fanfic #trr fanfic #cordonia #liam rys #trr liam x mc #trr olivia x mc #olivia nevrakis #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices the royal romance fanfic

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thenightmarecollector · 3 years

Text

The Angel In The Church

Content warning for gore, religious themes, and graphic violence to a child.

A man drives down the highway in an old sedan. He is running away from something. What it is, we do not know. Perhaps, we never will. He is speeding, dangerously above the limit, but there is nobody there to see it, not on this quiet road on this quiet morning. The light is soft, and almost beautiful, in the just-after-dawn, but he does not see it past the white of his knuckles cramped and clutching the steering wheel, and whatever he keeps looking over his shoulder hoping not to see.

He careens past the open-gated graveyards at the mouth of the road when he turns the corner onto the main street of a frosty little nowhere-town. He does not see her until it is too late. Her name is Celeste Leah Davidson. She is eight and three-quarters years old, and her favourite colour is lavender. Her mother did her hair this morning, and she likes her backpack because of the stars she glued on with her sister. She says they protect her from monsters by glowing in the dark. None of that matters when she is splayed backwards over the front of the car for a second, then under it, out of view. There is a scream held in the air like the last note of a song, suspended. There is a snap, then two dead-still thumps of the tires on the ground over her body, lying in the street.

It takes the man two tries to open the car door, his hands shaking, and he falls to the bloody asphalt, head cradled in his hands as though he cannot bear the light of day.

“Dear God, what have I done?! What have I done?!”

If he is begging for forgiveness- an answer- from the Lord, the Lord does not hear him.

Still, he is aware of whatever is behind him getting closer and closer- an unrelenting pursuer, the constancy of whatever happens after grief. He trembles as he picks up the body from the road, delicately at first, but then rushing as the panic sets in. There’s a quiet crunch from the body as it is shoved into the trunk, and if anyone was watching, they would see the man shudder.

When he is driving again, his knuckles are drenched in blood, and the stains seem to creep into his bones. He scrubs at them, but it never seems to go away.

Something makes the man keep driving, that night. Something just at the edge of his head, on the tip of the devil’s tongue, waiting for him when the adrenaline fades.

The night after that, when he pulls over to the side of the road to sleep, he thinks he hears something. He wakes up in the middle of the night to what he thinks is the girl’s scream repeated in the wind. He tries to rest as little as he can after that, and when the quiet encroaches, he turns up the radio, but all he can find is static. He turns it up all the way anyways, until he starts to hear a voice in that too.

It is the middle of the night, a month in, when he is falling asleep, and the car begins to shake in the middle of the night- thumps and screams from the back of the car. He shakes like a leaf in the wind, slamming his hands into his temples until the light of the radio goes black with his vision cutting out, hoping that it will kill him.

The next night, he dreams of blood- soaking the walls, pooling in the road, filling the earth like a biblical flood. When he wakes up screaming, delirious with exhaustion, he stares down at his hands while the lid of the trunk rattles. At the bloodstains that will not come clean, no matter how long he scrubs them raw in gas station bathrooms. With hands delicate and steady- hands with skill from another life, he pulls out a penknife. Methodically, steadily, he makes a slit along the back of his left hand, and slowly, slowly, pulls away the skin until the edges are turned inside out. If it hurts him, he does not show it- perhaps he is past the point where pain ends already. He stops when the blood loss makes him woozy, and starts again the next morning. For two days in the sedan parked in a field, the man skins his arms up to the elbows, until the only bloodstains are his own.

The next day, he stops at the edge of a town, and finds someone who will take the car for a bundle of cash. When he’s walked to the next one, his shoes are soaked with the water from blisters and blood. His eyes are sunken and hollow. The man who he buys a gun from at the edge of town thinks he might be half-dead already, and says nothing about the gloves of scabs stretching painfully bloody around his knuckles when he is handed the wad of cash.

He shoots himself in a flax field that night at sundown, and they do not find him until harvest that fall, when the combine spikes drive through his bones, picked at by crows in the field til they are bare. When the teenaged boy driving it steps down to look at what has happened, he sees the blue flax flowers growing from where his eyes once were, and the skin cracked dry and rotten-wet in equal measure. He throws up, and the image haunts him every time he closes his eyes for the next month, until they find him hanging in the barn from a rope tied to the rafters, an old wooden chair tipped over underneath him.

The car waits, empty in the used car lot at the edge of town. Two months later, a man walks in and buys it for his son’s birthday. The owner brings out the paperwork. He does not tell the man how he has not had a night’s rest since he bought it- about the dreams he has of blood and skin and knocking in the middle of the night. He does not tell the man about how he swears he sees it shake at night sometimes. He does not tell the man about the one with the scabbed hands and empty eyes who left it behind. Perhaps he does not know how to say it, or perhaps he wants the money, or perhaps he is made desperate by his visions- desperate enough to pass them on to somebody else. He breathes deeply through his mouth when he drives the car over to deliver it, and tries not to think about the plastic shopping bag of skin rotting in the compartment in front of the passenger’s seat, no matter how much he knows the scent will cling to his skin afterwards.

The boy’s name is Dylan, and he knows that his father doesn’t love him- knows that the car is made for him to open in front of his father’s friends, and nothing else- smells the heady, icy stench of rubbing alcohol on his father’s jacket and the sharp glint of eyeteeth in his father’s mouth when he hugs Dylan like he would never do without all eyes on him. Maybe that’s why the first thing Dylan opens is not the door of the car, but the trunk. Maybe he was looking for revenge, but what he finds is salvation instead.

The smell of months of shit and piss and rotting bedsores and the vomit from before the girl knew anything but this is still suffocating even after the trunk is opened, saturated into her skin and the fabric and the very essence of what she used to be. Her fingers were the first to go. “Delicate”, her mother had called them, once upon a time. “Artist’s hands”. She had lasted two days before sinking her teeth into her knuckles and lapping up the blood that swelled there, and another week before starting to rip into her fingertips with her canines. It has been night for so long. A long time ago, her mother told her she was named for the stars. She loved the stars. She does not remember the stars. She does not remember her mother. All she remembers is the infinite darkness, and the stench of her own decomposing and her broken bones healing curled up in the trunk, and the deep, animalistic pleasure of digging her teeth into meat and flesh still warm, still bloody, still breathing.

Her arms are a hollow framework all the way up to the elbows- like a man, lying as carrion in a field for the crows, with arms skinned up to the same spot. Her fingers, as delicately boned as before, are picked the cleanest- smooth white with bite marks across their surface. She had lost the beaded friendship ring from her best friend a day before the accident. The finger that it wrapped around is broken twice, once by the wheels of the car, and the second by her own teeth, sucking the marrow out.

As Dylan staggers back from the trunk, a whisper swoops across the crowd. “Godly,” they say. “Body and blood. A miracle.”

They lift her out gently, and snap all her bones when they splay her out from crumpled on the altar. The knife, good and sturdy from the basement kitchen, slices through the half-decomposed, abscessed skin above her shoulder blades, with the same firm hand as there must be the moment before you bring a chopping knife down on your fingers and slice all the way through bone. Pus leaks out, and the wings- made of white dove, stitched together alive and starved and dried, a frame of feathers- slip in. The meat hooks are pushed through the back of her arms, her collarbones, her sides, her thighs. Cleansed in fire, they brand her skin when they touch it, still hot. The flesh roasts. She has enough consciousness now, full on the communion, to know how to scream again. They hang her from the angled planks of the cathedral ceiling in the chapel, where the crucifix used to be.

A great joy in the parish is always best shared with the community. They hold a potluck in the chapel’s basement, and there is laughter and hymns and prayer. The widow’s son is a talent on the piano- he always plays in the balcony for services- and old Mrs. Hargreaves brings a pot roast from the recipe her mother always used. The girl who used to be named Celeste weeps above, scrabbling with skeletonized hands for a memory the scent rising from the basement brings up, of hiding behind her mother’s skirts, of playing tag on summer days, of dusty catechism books. She cannot remember, and for that she weeps more.

The wine always makes her head hazy, enough to slip away. They always give her a lot of it, to keep her from wailing during the sermons. Every year, for the first communions, they bring up the children to kneel in front of her. When her skin is pierced, they drink of the blood of heaven, and they all lie that it is as sweet as water. Her eyes watch the choir, as though she thinks she is already dead, but still her skeleton breathes, and her eyes blink glassily behind the curtained halo of her hair, tangled and matted with the ends still in the braids her mother carefully brushed out and tied so long ago.

They do not know her name from Before. If they did, they would not use it- would not care.

They call her Heaven now. Heaven Mercy Faith. The angel in the church on Crow’s-Elm Lane.

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intricate-oeuvre · 4 years

Text

On how to be deadly || Geralt of Rivia || part III

A/N: Ahhh, update!!! This is a bit of a filler chapter, so I can set mood for the next big turning point. Also I don’t know how long do you guys want this story to be? Hit me up if you want to be tagged. Likes, reblogs, comments, fanarts, playlists, moodboards are always welcomed!

Word count: 3.1k+

Summary: Axelia is Witcher experiment herself and has gone through same harsh Trials as Geralt, but she wasn’t so lucky with the outcome. Her vision didn’t become better. Therefore, she was rendered blind in the end. And because of that, she solely uses her Witcher senses to make her ways. Only potions can give her false sense of sight for limited time.Somewhere along the way she meets the Rivian. Who’s interested to know how she’s been killing monsters and hasn’t been killed herself yet.

Warnings: Nudity, but nothing too graphic. Alcohol (drink responsibly). Angsty, kind of. Bad grammar, since English is not my first language.

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

Before Axelia had gone and slayed the monster she had found some old lady that was ready to take her in for some time, or until she will be ready to leave for the next place, next monster.

Now she was making her way towards that place. With deep sigh she exited the grove and stopped at the small stream that separated the village from the said grove. She leaned down near the stream, letting her fingertips dip in the cold, refreshing water, she washed her hands off, at least enough to knock on the old lady’s door. Then she stood up again and shook off her hands. Girl with the tulle blindfold carefully made her way across the small stream and then walked on the dirt road. She heard chatter of the people that were walking through the village. Someone was feeding their pigs; another was chopping wood. Someone three houses down was forging iron. Then there were giggles and laughs of children. Some even running past her, making girl stop and turn around as she followed the sound, small smile of wonder curving on her lips. Which soon turned into look of curiosity as she heard the whispers that followed afterwards. Kids were talking about her. The way she had outlandishly white hair, or the fact that she looked as if someone had been dragging her on the ground for hours to no end. Or maybe it was the blindfold that made her look odd, or two swords that were attached to her back. Axelia didn’t indulge anymore on that chatter and turned back around and continued her path to the old woman’s house. She just wanted a hot bath and some peace and quiet as everything seemed to be annoying her at the moment. As curious as she was about the talks going around about her, she, at the same time, couldn’t take anymore talking.

With three quiet taps of her knuckles against the wooden door, she was granted the warmth of the house.

“Oh, lords, look at you, dearie!” Old woman exclaimed and putted her hands together as she saw how Axelia looked like.

“Did that beast do such a thing to you?” old lady asked.

“Nothing serious. It’s mostly dirt and some scratches. Nothing that good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Axelia replied taking a seat at the nearest chair as she was wishing to get off her boots faster.

“I am going to draw you a bath. Would you like that?” She asked the girl.

“Yes, thank you very much.” Axelia said as she pulled off her boots and putted them down by the fire to dry.

“Are there some specific herbs you’d like in your bath?” lady had asked. All people around here were herbs gatherers, that much girl knew.

“Velvet rose and sandalwood.” She said without thinking. After realising what she had said, she hissed and looked up at the lady, who was already gone to prepare her a bath.

“Great.” Axelia rolled her eyes and stumbled to where she heard the sound of the running water.

*Some time later*

Axelia was sitting in the wooden tub. Fire crackling softly to her right, casting the right side of her face in orange glow as her shoulder was getting pleasantly warm. The old lady was sitting behind her on the small stool and combing Axelia’s white hair that was now wet and cascading down her back. Girl absentmindedly played with the rose petals that were spinning in the water every time she moved. Girl didn’t talk much, but the old lady seemed to be the opposite. She told Axelia how she became living here and that she was once married and has a daughter, similar Axelia’s age, at least in the appearance. How all her children were living in different cities and villages. All the reasons why she was alone in the big house, only her and two maids with two stable boys, that she raised like her children. Axelia didn’t answer much to it, only occasional hum and nothing else. At some point Axelia had quite blatantly asked the old lady to leave her alone for the moment. And without questions and only full with understanding, the lady had grabbed her dirty clothes and left the girl.

Axelia had her left elbow propped on the side of the bath tub, while her fingertips were against her forehead. She was trying to not listen for once, not feel for once and just let her body restart. At the moment she was feeling as everything was setting her off, keeping her on the edge. In her other hand there was small woodchip, as she was turning it over and over with her fingers, to distract her mind. For a second her eyebrows rose up as she heard commotions downstairs. She didn’t pay any heed to it and with a deep sigh stretched her legs under the water. Couple moments later doors to her room opened, without raising her head she said in a tired voice:

“May I be undisturbed for the rest of the night?” And as she finished that sentence, she raised her head and froze for a moment, similar to dear that is fearful and is listening for noises and smells.

“What are YOU doing here?” Axelia said, sitting up straighter and pulling her knees to her chest.

“I told you to leave me alone.” Axelia grumbled, in no mood to talk to Geralt who was standing in her room now.

“Your payment.” He said as he tossed the leshen’s head near the tub alongside with purse of coins.

“You brought dirt in old hag’s house. And thus, in my room.” Axelia looked down at the scull, that still had the broken antler missing. She raised her right leg out of water and putted its calf on her other knee, wiggling her toes as the water dripped down now exposed leg.

“If that is all, you can go.” Axelia said, turning her attention back to the water, listening how water droplets hit surface of the scented water.

“Geralt, you forgot-” There was a voice that Axelia didn’t recognise. Jaskier had just entered her room too, holding other antler in his hand.

“What are we doing in the naked maidens chambers? Together?” Jaskier asked raising one eyebrow as his eyes slid from Geralt to Axelia.

“I’m hoping that not only talking.” Axelia tilted her head to the side, small smirk playing on her lips. Jaskier could feel the tension in the room and it was not between him and the girl in the bath nor it was one akin to pleasure.

“I, um… I got your... horn?” Jaskier said, pulling on the collar of his jacket as he briskly walked to the bath and extended the antler toward Axelia. Axelia extended her hand, palm up but didn’t take the antler from him. With still outstretched hand, Jaskier turned his head back to look at Geralt, questioning look on his face.

“Put it in her hand, Jaskier.” Geralt answered with slight roll of his eyes. The bard did as he was told, and as soon as the girl grabbed the antler out of his hand, he stepped back, still standing slightly behind the witcher.

“Thank you.” Axelia smiled politely and instantly started to twirl the antler in her hand.

“But I don’t need it.” She said dropping it near the bath.

“And now you can leave, so I can continue my bathing.”

“Water’s cold already.” Geralt said not missing a beat.

“Fine.” Axelia said in steady voice as she braced herself on the edges of the tub and on her right, got out of it.

“Oh, sweet…” Jaskier exclaimed, hiding his face behind Geralt’s back. The witcher only let out a displeased grunt as he casted his eyes down at the floor. With her back naked to two men, Axelia reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself.

“I’m… I am going back downstairs.” Jaskier said sliding away from the back of Geralt and disappearing from the room.

“Is that your jester?” Axelia asked as she pulled a comb through her hair.

“Jaskier is a bard.” Geralt’s voice come from somewhere closer than before.

“Why don’t you go downstairs now? Join that Jaskier of yours. I am pretty sure that they have ale or something.” Axelia said putting down the brush on the table in front of her.

“Look…” Geralt started, briefly receiving disapproving sigh from her.

“About what you said.” He continued.

“I don’t like where this is going. You should leave. Before you say too much, Geralt.” Axelia said, looking down at the floor. All she could feel was him standing behind her, as his warm breath landed on her naked shoulders.

“I didn’t want to-” Geralt started again, but Axelia interrupted him:

“Leave me?” she took a step forward, away from him.

“Axelia.” Geralt said sternly.

“Leave. I need to get dressed.” Axelia run her hand along the dress that was on the bed.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Geralt said, his yellow eyes following her hand movement.

“I don’t feel like showing my scars to you right now.” Axelia said holding towel closer to her chest. Her head turned towards the door, where one could hear cheers from downstairs.

“Go. Join them.” Axelia putted her hand gently on his chest and gave him a small push backwards. He didn’t fight her, with only a nod towards her, went downstairs.

Axelia was left alone for a moment, when there was a small knock on her door.

“What is it?” Axelia asked half annoyed as she was securing her hair in low bun at the nape of her neck.

“Are you wakeful, dearie?” Old lady peaked her head in her room.

“Yes.” Axelia half whispered.

“May I come in?” old lady asked even though she already had come in.

“Boys must be keeping you up with all that noise.” Lady said sitting on Axelia’s bed.

“I’ll manage. After all I grew up in a place with mainly boys.” Axelia sighed at took a seat next to the lady. She let her hands slide along the skirt part of the dress that lady had given her. Axelia was never one for the dresses. They always got in her way. Restricted the movement of her body.

“I guess alongside the big one.” Lady chuckled. Axelia hummed in response.

“But there is something more.” She continued to tell the girl.

“Maybe in past.” Axelia sighed, looking around the room. Without a word, the old lady took hold of Axelia’s left hand and held it in her lap.

“Tell me what happened.” She asked her softly.

“He left…” Axelia started in the softest voice, barely above the whisper.

“Without any explanation. Left me alone on the doorstep. I thought that all the things we faced together until that…. I thought that there was something more to it. Maybe it wasn’t the connection he was looking for… I don’t… know… that winter he didn’t come back… I was being a fool… for waiting for him to come back… I was alone… no one believed me that I could do this… this…whatever this is…” girl explained, her head now in the old lady’s lap as she used her hands to express her mixed emotions.

“I was all alone… and all the parts of me that I showed him… kind of disappeared… I thought that he loved me… we didn’t say that… not directly, anyway… but I thought that… he had this thing with tapping me three times… I didn’t know what that meant… still absolutely don’t… he tapped whatever part was closest to him… just *tap tap tap*” Axelia tapped lady’s knee three times.

“Only three times… no more, no less… tap tap tap.” Axelia tapped in air with her finger.

“After the second winter, I kind of… got sick of it… news travelled fast you know? I heard that he was coming back… I don’t know why or for what… but he wasn’t alone…” Axelia explained, letting out some details, not willing to bare her all to some stranger.

“With who?” old lady asked softly, letting her fingers brush hair out of Axelia’s face.

“Yennefer…” Axelia said softly, without any malice in her voice.

“This pretty girl, the sorcerer… the one that had stolen his heart… Love of his life.” Axelia said, single tear running down her face. She remembered that, she didn’t want to, but she did. Vesemir had said something about Geralt coming back, to do something. Unfinished business of sorts. But when Vesemir had mentioned another name, Axelia was confused. She had asked him to explain who this Yennefer is to be. And once Axelia had learned about this all ordeal of love of his life, she didn’t want to linger. She had run upstairs to her room, packed as little as she could and escaped the Kaer Morhen through the hole in the wall, so just she wouldn't have the option to run into him and the love of his life. But that was years ago, even though the memory was burnt in her head like with flaming spear.

“You know…” old lady started as she saw the unhappy look on girl’s face.

“In one lifetime you can and will love so many times, but there will be that one that will burn your soul forever.” She continued.

“Yeah… right…” Axelia scoffed with slight roll of her eyes.

“Sweetheart, do you know the difference between the love of your life and a soulmate?”

“Aren’t you supposed to love your soulmate for the rest of your life…” Axelia furrowed her brows.

“You choose the love. You choose who to love. How long? That is up to you. But the soulmate… soulmate isn’t a choice, dearie.” Lady explained.

“What are you implying?” Axelia sat up, dried her tears and blinked at the lady.

“Maybe he’s your soulmate. Have you thought about that?” lady looked at her with caring smile.

“No… never…” Axelia trailed off, her eyes drifting towards the door.

“He might not love you in the same he does this Yennefer. Nor does he love you in a way that you might understand love. But there always will be that connection, that power that will draw you together. You might think that you both are just making your way through the fog, but in reality, you’ll just end up meeting each other again. He needs you as much as you need him.” Lady explained. Axelia sat there, thinking. Her thoughts running in circles. Her ears buzzing. Hairs on her hands raising, sending shivers down her spine.

“I…umm… I gotta…” Axelia stood up, pointing at the door.

“You better…” Old lady got up too and opened doors for her.

Axelia didn’t walk down all the way. She stopped in the middle and just looked over the railings. There at the table sat Jaskier telling some magnificent tale about his and Geralt’s adventures. The stable boys drinking and laughing, and cheering at that. Two maids seemed to listen in as well, but their attention was caught by the handsome witcher sitting at the same table, tankard of ale in his hand, and annoyed look on his face. Axelia leaned against the railing and listened at the story that Jaskier was telling. But her unseeing eyes seemed to be drawn towards the witcher.

What if the old hag was right? What if he was her soulmate? What if it was inevitable for her to meet him here? What if it was inevitable for him to find her in that forest? She would have stared longer at the witcher, but he caught her stare and quirked an eyebrow at her, that familiar scent of velvet rose and sandalwood more prominent than ever. That smell could numb all his senses and he wouldn’t complain. He could drown in that scent and he wouldn’t even fight for his life.

“What?” Axelia mouthed but didn’t move away from her spot on the stairs. Jaskier, on the other hand, had caught the look that Axelia shared with Geralt.

“Ah, yes, the blind she-witcher!” he exclaimed, raising his tankard and cheering at the girl on stairs. This only got him a look of disapproval from Geralt and annoyed sigh from Axelia.

“Come, join us!” Jaskier got up and made his way towards Axelia.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Axelia said taking a step back but she had nowhere to go as Jaskier grabbed her hand and dragged her to the table, making her sit between himself on her left and one of the maids on her right. And next to that maid sat Geralt.

Great. She was stuck somewhere she didn’t want to be in the first place.

“Do tell us of your adventures!” one of the stable boys in front of her asked, sending a smirk her way. Axelia furrowed her brows, but didn’t say anything.

“How can a blind girl fight monsters…” giggled one of the maids that seemed to be tipsy already.

“It just takes sword and little bit of courage.” Axelia explained pulling on her sleeves, as she didn’t feel like being in the centre of the attention.

“That sounds like lines for my next song.” Jaskier mumbled to her left.

“That kind of life must be hard. No man in your life and all…” other maid on her right said, leaning her head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I’ll choose to not answer that…” Axelia leaned her elbows on the table.

“Oh? Why not?” still giggled the first maid.

“I don’t want to talk about that one asshole…” Axelia answered matter of factly and sent a small look to Geralt, who looked at her incredulously.

“He was not an asshole.” Geralt said in his tankard as he drank ale.

“Oh, really?” Axelia’s eyebrows rose up as she leaned away from the table and turned to look at Geralt.

“Let’s see, hmm. That asshole left me. Didn’t explain anything. Not a single word. What else? Didn’t come back for two years. Oddly enough. Oh, and when he did come back, it was with another woman. And a child. I could live with that child part, because that’s complicated and he kind of asked for it. Destiny has something for all of us. But you know, no explanation... How’s that for an adventure story.” Axelia finished her rant with crossing her hands.

“We weren’t together.” Geralt gave her a pointed look.

“We...?” Jaskier mumbled, his fingers pointing to Axelia and Geralt, as he was drawing parallels in his head.

“We slept together!” Axelia stood up. She bunched up her skirt part of the dress and climbed over the bench and was ready to leave.

“As if you haven’t slept with anyone else.” Geralt called behind her. She swiftly turned around, still holding her dress:

“Speak for yourself, Rivian. Some of us don’t really go for unmeaningful sex.” Axelia huffed. There was silence as both of them stared at each other.

“So, you two were together…?” Jaskier asked meekly, pointing at both.

“Jaskier.” Geralt warned the bard.

“Shitty day to learn that you are my soulmate, I suppose.” Axelia mumbled quietly to herself, but she was pretty sure that the witcher at the table was the only one who heard her.

“I bid you all good night.” Axelia made a little bow and walked up stairs. Geralt only stared at her leaving form. With annoyed grunt he got up and went after her.

~~~~

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

tags: @boiled-onionrings @fandomwithnolifesblog @901seconds @kingniazx @shesakillerkween @your-dreams-are-strong @stitchattacks @ayamenimthiriel @stormfire6 @mr-illegal-king @stretchkingblog97 @mikariell95

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #roach the horse #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #jaskier #butcher of blaviken #geralt imagine #witcher yennefer #witcher oc #witcher netflix #withcer games #gwent #deadly series #angst #soulmate

279 notes · View notes

charmed-asylum · 4 years

Text

👨‍🍳#𝓕𝓞𝓞𝓓𝓲𝓔👨‍🍳

Summary: Something happening in Easter Hills. Something that effecting everyone under the surface. Could this just be a phase a trick that no one can shack off? Is this something that will pass with another or can we all be heading for destruction

Declaimer: #Foodie has some curse words, blood,cat fight, mentions of bullying and eating disorder. Also, I do have dyslexia who happens to do her own proof reading so be easy with me!!!

A/N: This chapter is a filler before things start to go to shit in the next one. Let me know what you think or want to be added to the tag list. xoxo Tia

MASTER LIST // Previous CHAPTER 2

Tagged: @weapinggwillowss @kittykatlow @alagalaska @deansblackbeauty

The journey to school was a blur. I don’t know how or by what grace of god but I made it come Monday. It has been one hell of a week but that be an understatement. In reality, it wasn’t just this week it was these last month or so. I tap my number two pencil a few times against the desk waiting for my name to be called. Ms. King was an older lady full proud of the fact she been teaching since 1968. While it was an achievement to the only thing she to show was 13 cats waiting for her at home. The simple 10 minutes routine took her much longer and left us 20 minutes to cramp everything in. Today this lovely dry hot day was pushing 22 minutes. Taking a deep breath I look away from the heart diagram and look up to see what was taking so long. Class of normally 27 students was a minor fraction of 18 if that. I would think nothing of it but as I chew on the nasty no taste but death eraser it hit me. It was the same thing for all my other class different students were missing, I heard principal Ratchet mention the flu or mono. Just did not feel right.

Eraser still hanging from my mouth as I think of that day. Mind rush back to sitting in the back of the ambulance. Flashing blue and red light blur my vision only clear thing was KP looking like a superhero. His huge rough hands play in his hair as he let a huge breath out from his chiseled chest. Eyes darting back from the black bag and the sheriff. I was gonna speak but KP knows what is best and having me talk wasn’t it. Men stuck in his ways talking to the freak was never useful. The only words that came from his mouth addressed to me were,” Second time in a month you got something going on with you and these damn woods. You doing some witchcraft or something. Weird girl”. I chuckled under my breath at the joke he was. But he was right two times in a month this time I’m alone. No parents no reassurance. Blood mix with the dirt covers most of my clothes. KP didn’t mention much just that we saw the body out of nowhere. Not that it was still alive barley but alive not that it said anything just that it was dead when he checked. The next thing I remember was me in the bathtub still in my clothes as he cleans me off. Water was mix with soap water and dirt. I practically begged him to stay not to leave with tears rolling down my cheeks eyes red with fear and pain. With a kiss on the crown of my head, he promises me before carrying me to bed. We lay snuggled together his hands holding me tightly his hands and mine laying close to my heart. By the time the rosters call to wake up the night creatures, he was gone.

Bell took me out of my mind back into reality. Slowly grabbing my thing I rush out to my locker to see if Janet picks up the note I left. Peaking over my shoulder I shield myself as I put in her combo. With a tap it open with the note still there. SHIT JANET. Besides the creepy 3 words messages, I haven’t heard from her. Just had to focus today thing on Janet.

Corner of my eye I could see few people going towards the cafeteria. I swing my bag over my shoulder and ran off to the cafeteria. Even though my lunch period was for another two periods. Pushing through the sea of people looking for her. Crazy how classrooms were getting more and more empty but the cafeteria was getting more and more crowded. Pushing people who were waiting on the growing line to get food I look around for Janet. She has been having lunch during this period and her regular one with me for a month. Turning shoulders calling she was nowhere. FUCK.

My fresh white polish nails comb through my hair as I tried to remain calm. Closing my eyes I pray to the lords for help a sign. Anything to prove I’m not losing it once again. As I started to relax I could hear a noise a voice. Looking up I thank god before following the voice. Now before I explain to you what saw a person should know in this school I’m a freak I’m okay with it, I accept it, I celebrate my flawless in the eye of my peers. One of many things is my strict unorthodox eating habits. I have been called every word in every dictionary. Something I never wanna contribute to, Tiffany though is a 500 calories a day type of girl. Once someone gave her a regular coke and she beat the poor freshman right to ER. She screams Malibu Barbie with matching purse. Flawless. She Janet’s level flawless just with an eating disorder. This Tiffany if it wasn’t for the 5,000 purses and that annoying voice, this girl looks nothing like her. First, it was the fact all my years of knowing her she only wears a crop top and thong poking out now in size large sweater with purple unicorns and leggings, that she probably got from the local theft shop in town. I almost piss myself. Then was her plate. The fact she had a plate was a shocker. She had two things of chili fries, a sloppy Joe, and three pudding cups. Sipping from a BIG BOY slushie from the gas station down the road. Unknown to me I was currently in front of her table mouth open till one of her minions toss a fry at me.

“ Tiffany. Hey huh, Tiff” I said still unsure.

If I was shocked before when she turned to me made me beyond doubt stun. She had a ton of acne and her face look a bit puffy from her skeleton skin-tight face not so long ago.

“ What do you want? “ One of her minions ask as she was chewing on some sour union flavor chips.

“ Have you seen. Janet today? We got a project due tomorrow and I can’t find her” I said spit balling as went on.

They look at each other and giggle. Tiffany looks at the other and like that her mood change she sat up a bit more and turn to fully look at me. With her stain shirt and food on the corner of her mouth. She looks at me with hungry in her eyes with a quick lick around her smug lipstick lips grind at me.

“ Actually no we haven’t but we were gonna look for her. Hey, you got any Trippie on you” Tiffany said with joy and lust in those hazel eyes.

Step back and put a hand to my hip. I look at her as she waited for my answer. This gosh darn drug again. The reason why I and Janet been at odds, to begin with.

“ No. I don’t take that stuff. Tried Popi. She the one who had it in the 1st place. You haven’t seen her she usually here with you during lunch” I pressed. Look of doubt of cross all four girls face. Who was spotting a similar appearance to their leader?

“ Come on. Smith your join to the fuckin hip. You must know where we can find her or some of the drugs. We ran out quicker then we wanted to. Takes longer to get it up. Help us. We do anything. Tell Janet we are willing to do anything “ Zoe said grabbing tight to my wrist. Her grip was airtight that I felt the pressure. Almost like how it was with Janet that last time. Same look in the eyes too.

Pulling away from her grip with all my might I stumble back. I look at the girls as their expressions started to change to a dead zone look in their eyes. Like they were on something. My mouth became dry my brain ache from thoughts that were running through my head. My eyes darted from one to another to another.

“ Lik-”

Tiffany ignore me and started to laugh after taking a few more bites of her sandwich. Drops of it left on her shirt one just by the corner of her mouth.

“ She not gonna tell us. She wants it all to her self. It’s fine we figure it out we are not selfish people” Tiffany said laughing between each chew. I clench my jaw till I felt something swooshing in my mouth a bitter taste.

“ Like I said. I don’t take that stuff. I care what goes in my body and I don’t trust it” I said before turning to leave. I got a few steps in before I heard more laughter. I stop and chuckle to myself what was so funny. Sound like she was mumbling something. “Excuse me” I said turning back around.

“ You know what. Why did I even ask you? Face it. Without that candy eye boy toy or your American pie girlfriend you nothing but a fuckin virgin who can even drive. Your nothing only thing you were made to do was to worship and praise others. Look at you Janet doesn’t give you any attention finally realize what dead weight you are and left you. I bet it hurts knowing that you are nothing. EVERYONE LEAVES YOU. But you are one thing. Very good at if I may say. Being a pathetic bitch. Roof roof” Tiffany said with a smile on her face and a wheeze of a laugh. I hated her I know I should not but I did. Hated that she was mostly right I hate that I let this get to me and most of all I hated I was entertaining it. It was too late I felt the tears in my eyes. So I did the only thing left to do and that was to mirror her. Show who she was I am good at pretending so much so I don’t know if my mind grew up with my body.

“ Funny you say that. Because the only thing I see is a bunch of mystery meat slops of shit. Yeah, you almost was right but you forgot about one thing. Tiffany, I’m not someone bitch I am the mother fucking animal control. I round up all those rodents pest and I put them down. Don’t test me, ugly soul. Because next time I put you down maybe just maybe finally allow your groupies some air to think for once” I said got closer to her till I was nose to nose.

Taking my thumb I gently clean her of the sloppy Joe that settles on the corner of her mouth before rubbing it on her shoulder. A smile with victory as she remains silent from my death stare. Lips cover in raspberry flavor organic lip-gloss roll off a bit from my tongue as I move it across. Stepping back I flip up my middle finger high in the air and turn around probably too quick because next thing I know something pulls me close and punches me square in the face knocking me slow motion down to the ground. Light flicker a bit before with rainbows and glitter before it all fades to black.

Drips of water fell down my forehead. The buzzing was the first thing that caught my attention, the buzz from a circle ceiling light with a cool white tent. Buzz hypnotize me Mumbling back noise stop but my eyes remained on a poor dead fly t stuck in the filter.

" Oh, Ms. Smith you awake. That was a nasty fall. I will be back in a second" Nurse Jane called out.

The nurse’s office like this fly in a black hole stuck in the 1950s with a wall of fame for Nurse Jane prize dog. Yup, Mr. Fuzzy Bear. Elvis Presley played in the background. I look at the wall Mr. Fuzzy Bear look completely different then dog I saw a few weeks ago. Tap on the shoulder shocks me to the core as I scream out and throw the now baggie of water into the floor by my converse. Hands shake with fear my breathing getting shorter as I hold onto the wall of trophies. Trying and failing to catch my breath. Another tap sent me to the floor crawling to the corner covering my ears and tried to control my breathing.

" Oh, I'm sorry. Ms. Smith. I was seeing if you were okay. Sit here let me get you some water" Nurse Jane said. I could smell whiskey on her breath as she spoke to me. Mix with the cheap drug store perfume they sale but no one brought due to the reaction most got.

Looking up I watch as she walks off. She had far to much hair spray that perfect her scoop with a white daisy in her hair and the white long sleeve white nurse uniform. My eyes went back to the daisy I study flowers out of boredom and that one something was off. Slowly getting to my feet I follow her to the front till I stop and see the puddle I felt. CRAB CAKES I said to myself as I got on my knees to clean up my mess.

“ That’s a new daisy huh Mrs. Cruise. Might need to clip a few and add it to the garden” I said

“ Oh, this little old thing. My little boy was playing out in the fields and found some. Next to this strange patch of grass. Probably weed. Anyway, it was the prettiest thing I have seen had to cut one of myself. But don’t let your self eat it. My poor baby eats some and well that how he ends up going to see you” She said handing out a can for the trash.

“ How is little guy anyway. Not eating any more chocolate or flowers I hope” I asked dusting off my rip denim jeans.

She looks at me strange her head tilt to the side hair staying in place. A huge grind plaster on that clown-like makeup face.

“ Smith. My baby has been with you all this week. I took my little fuzzy home and he started to act like he was from the wild. Brought him back so the good lord of a doctor can make him all better” Jane said.

I wanted to laugh because last I check he wasn’t there. Words stayed at top of my tongue. My eyes dart to her and the wall of trophies back to her.

“ Oh yeah. Ethan got hurt had to get someone over from next town over. Sure he is back to the cute button he always is in no time. If I may ask because well new doc might make a fuss where was this planet at” I asked.

“ Well, I was on my daily work out power walk so mmmm somewhere by the old wooden bridge in Lovers. Such a pretty sight” Jane said. Before I can speak the phone rang. I slipped out as she turns to answer it.

I look in my hand was the white tissue with the daisy I snatch off of her. Something was off. Maybe if Janet didn’t want to tell me I figure it out myself. Something was wrong and I attend to figure it out one way or another. The first stop was to work.

Most don’t know because my family likes to keep it hush back before Ethan came into town my dad family own Easter Hills Animal Hospital for over 60 years. Still does as a private owner. Ethan was like the fun aunt and each time I had nowhere to go she would sit me on the desk and teach me things. The first animal I cut open was a raccoon at the age of 7 with Ethan of course helping me every step of the way.

Lights in the hallway were dim fluorescent lights. With my phone in my hand, I tap on the flashlight and slowly walk into the back. Maybe I can check a few of the animals and the daisy I snatch to see if anything was similar. BING BING I glance down to my notifications to see a text from KP. Asking me if I am okay. I cared about him but there was too much at state. I need to know. Call it a hunch.

It smells like trash and cleaning supplies for some reason. Like the hardcore, stuff police use to clean a crime scene. I should know each night I clean the operation rooms and front area. The stuff we use was the general store brand. And it smells and looks too perfect. The new vet hasn’t arrived yet, so who did this? The keys dangle from my left hand hitting me as I walk down to the back where the files would be at. I just had to check to see if the dog was still here. As I got close something wasn’t right. There was a brand new lock on the door. I was here not so long ago this heavy-duty lock wasn’t here. Clipping the keys to my hip I glance around before I tried to jiggle at the lock. No luck. Looking around I tried to think on my feet. Shit. Lending against the wall I see a light on in Ethan office. Alright, that can work. Pocketing my phone in my back pocket. I sneak into her office.

The walls were cover in wine red wallpaper with cherry dark chocolate wood floors. Her office looks nothing like the one you would assume a veterinarian office would look like. Everything from the desk to the chairs was expensive something Ethan insisted. There was a black bookshelf that lay against the wall with matching black gold nods desk. Chairs that were a whopping 2,000 each sat perfectly insight. Awards plastered on another wall with pictures of her many accomplishments. She looks print-ready perfect. Along with all her pictures was one in the corner row of her with my parents when I was younger. I remember that day like it was yesterday. The first day she started almost 10 years ago. She had a short boy cut with dyed blonde hair that made her features pop. I didn’t know much about beauty but she and my mother are what I imagine. Most look at Mona Lisa or Marvel statue for reference me I had two prime examples just for myself to see each day. Kinda like what I felt when I saw KP for 1st time 6 years ago. For so many years I was lost in the woods unable in away to find my way home. At first, it was Ethan and Janet who hold me close then shortly KP.

A loud bing drum though my ears. Clinching onto my ears I start to breathe again. Calming myself before I slip again. I had to focus. My eyes gaze to the computer. Ethan was many things but OCD was one. She always had copies full of details. I couldn’t get into the back room but maybe this could work. I rush over almost knocking over a picture of Ethan's two older daughters to the desk. Shaking the mouse I wait till the computer comes alive. My left hand cradling my face biting my thumbnail. Taste is nail polish with taste funny but I chew and spit it out without thought. CRAP. Password. Taking my hand away I tap the keyboard. It could be an endless list of it could be one. Sitting back in the plush comfy desk chair lean back and rock back and forth. Great way to putting all those AP and college courses to good use I thought to myself. Tapping my sneakers against the wood floor I loosen my messy bun and run my fingers through my hair. My ring KP gave me tangle through my hair. I stop thinking and reach to type something in quickly. WINE. Nope, crap. Pulling out the draws I look around for something. A hint clue maybe like many older people password somewhere.

While her office was perfect these draws were nothing like it may be the OCD part was probably the wrong word. It had five draws: 1st had simple office supplies and a pill bottle of viagra, 2nd had appointment book and business card old open bag of photo chips, 3rd had a prepaid phone, key to the safe, and thing of condoms. 4th one had a bottle of cheap whiskey, two glasses, and a few files full of pictures and post it’s. The draw in the center didn’t budge. Feeling around the smooth polish surface I felt something off. Stretching down a bit more I felt it. A huge grin spread across my face as I grab and quickly tried to open the back door with it. Still, it did not budge. Running back I did not see the front door was wide open letting in a cool breeze. Driven by excited I tried for the desk draw and heard a click. Opening it. I saw a phone book and a journal and right on the front corner in a bright pink post-it was the password: 2HOT4THISISH.

My laughter was cut short when I heard heavy foot shuffling outside the crack door. I pause and tried to figure my next move. With my eyes on the door, I quickly shove the papers from the files in my bag. The journal replacing it with a book another that was on the table and putting everything back to what it was. Before I could slip out the door open with a loud creak sound. Panic took over and I quickly bundled tight under the desk with my legs squeeze tight to my chest a gentle rock not make a sound. I could hear wheezing. My eyes were full of tears as I tried not to panic. Who could it be? My eyes drift off to the side and I could see a pair of Black Jimmy Choo nearly 3 feet from my hand. I quickly move it and watch the shoes. It was there for another 10 maybe 15 minutes before I heard a rattle of keys and shoes walk away. Towards the end hallway I heard some more noise but this time it was from the back door I tried to open earlier. Whoever it was the person did whatever to the lock.

I jolt awake from the sound of my phone going off. I glanced down to see it was KP. And it was going at 11 o’clock. Fudge I slowly got up from the floor and sat in the chair.

“ Hey baby I’m so sorry I got lost in my work and fell asleep” I said rubbing my eyes.

I could hear a deep breath in and I could imagine he was rubbing his forehead with a thick strong finger.

“ Sweetie. You had me worried. I had to hear from someone else you got in a fight with that toothpick girl. Tiffany something. Why didn’t you call me” he asked with a bit ignored.

I look around at the office and back at the computer it was still on. I rest the phone in the crook of my neck and type in the password.

“ I know I didn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry. I should have told you. Do you wanna snuggle tonight Phillip. We can snuggle and I can give you kitty licks or something” I said trying to get him to lighten up. The home screen came up. There was normal stuff internet, virus protection filed, a few others. As I waited I click on to each and look to see what I can find.

“ Oh really. You know I love your kitty licks Issac. I gotta stay in late today probably till about 2 in the morning. But I can still come over. For some snuggle, if the offer still open” KP tease.

My smile drops when I saw something I didn’t mean to click. It had pictures and pdf of things I never have seen before. I hold the clicker to print everything out.

“ Of course. You know where the key is. Just bring some milk if you come. Mr. Cereal cruncher uses the last bit the other day” I said with a giggle.

“ Will do. Sorry I been distant. Perks of small ass town are not many folks to call if there a crisis. I never get how a town of 203 people can have a police unit of 12 people which includes the old man club who just sleeps in the police car. One day this mentality gonna bit them in the ass baby. Baby are you still there” KP asked.

I wasn’t listening but instead reading what I found. It was my reports I send for. For the drug, dog, and something unknown. I glance at the date and it was of a few days ago. Each had this strange code at the end of each page.

“ I’m sorry about that honey. You know this town stuck in time. I know things are hectic with you. I wish I could make it perfect like the way you are. But I can only be your snuggle bunny and talk to you and be here for you” I said packing my bag and looking some more.

“ That’s all I ask for baby. My beautiful snuggle bunny. God your -“ KP stop talking and shot out to someone. “ Huh. I gotta go another fuck up animal. Just pop up by lover lane” KP said disappointed.

“ It’s okay. Hey, hasn’t it been a lot of that lately? We don’t get those anymore. You cheating on me with another animal lover” I teased. It was silent only I could hear was a deep breath from the other line.

“ I am joking. I’m gonna be wearing your favorite plaid shirt to sleep. I love you. Stay safe for me please” I said in a mouse-like whisper.

I need this stuff. Looking in my bag I pull out my key chain for my USB drive. I looked around before plugin it in and copying all the files. As it got to 100% I quickly unplugged it and fix everything to was before I came. My bike was a half-mile away hiding behind trees and some branches. Midnight sky dance high. Times like this I would stop and lay on the road and look up now I’m filled with this void. This feeling was creeping from the corner of my eyesight. Feeling of claws pulling at your flesh. Ahead I could see some birds flying south. A huge flock like it was on my date. They always know I wish I could just have left with KP and not look back. Even with that would I be escaping the danger or welcoming another.

I sat Indian style on the floor with a pencil in my bun and a yellow highlighter in my mouth. Looking over the papers and files scattered across. The more I read more I could tell something wasn’t right.

“ Baby why are you up ?” a voice said for behind me. I jump up almost choking on the highlighter falling in the papers behind me.

KP stood tall with his sleeve rolled up to show his god-like muscle hairstyle slick back looking like a Ken doll.

“ Sorry homework” I said looking up to him. He chuckled and bend down on one knee to get a better look at me. He took my hand and slowly help me up in. I could smell the coffee from his breath mix with some gum. He smokes even though I told him how much I hated it. More he smokes a brand that not even available anymore. Which made me madder at the money he spent.

“ You know you keep it up with the donuts and cigarettes your not gonna be able to promise me that forever. Mister” I said with a bent brow at him.

With a finger, he played with my hair a bit before meeting my eyes. Sweet sparkle that makes anyone weak to the knees and a smile to match. Coming closer he kisses me with such hunger. I reach for the back of his neck to help me out as I deepen the kiss. Til I taste the cigarette and stop.

“ No kisses till you brush your teeth. Yucky “ I giggle in his neck. My hands still playing with his neck hair. His hands move further down my back till it reaches my rear.

“ But I’m sleepy. I don’t wanna. You said you are my snuggle bunny” He said with his puppy eyes. I hit his rock hard chest playfully before pushing myself backs away from him laying on top of the papers so he couldn't see it.

“ And we will when you brush your teeth. Or you can quite” I said with a fake shock face.

He laughs and walks to the bathroom join to my bedroom. I turn to watch as he walks off. God his butt was a thing of beauty.

“ What type of work are you doing “ He asked from the bathroom.

I slowly got up when I heard the water and quickly move all the papers and shove them in my bag.

“ Research paper for history. You know how Mr. Burns is a pain in my buttocks “ I said checking around for anything else.

KP wall out with a mouth full of mouthwash gave me his serious look. I walk over to a bin under my bed full of some clothes for him and toss him over some sweatpants. Getting under my blankets I waited for him to come out. My cell started to ring from my bedside table. Reaching for it I answered it and walk out to the hallway.

“ Janet is that you. God, I have been worried” I whisper into the phone. Nothing.

“ I forgot you quite. Tiffany came at me looking for you. Be proud I told her off” I laughed. Still nothing.

“ If you are in trouble I can help. And hey if it’s something legal then fuck it. You are my friend I can talk to KP. He here..hello” the phone click and I heard a dial tone.

“ Who was that” KP asked standing in the doorway arms cross over each other.

“ Janet. She has been calling and saying nothing. I’m worried “ I said looking up to him. He pushes himself off and wrap his arms around me and squeeze me tight. Tears fell onto his bare chest.

Master of Puppets began to blur though the tiny radio. Fiddling around I press onto the snooze buttons. KP was still sound asleep with his arms wrap around my small of my abdomen. Head in the crook of my neck snoring. I glance back and kiss his forehead smiling. The clock read blink 6:03. Taking his hand I slowly ease myself out of the embrace and out of bed. He snuggled into my pillow and started to snore once more. Flipping my alarm off grab my outfit I had plan night before and headed into the bathroom.

It still early so I decide to open the windows to let some fresh air in. After a few minutes, I hop in. I scrub some shampoo in my hair and hum this morning song to myself. I reach back and let the water hit my face run down to the rest of my body. Taking the dirt and worried away. A cheep cheep stops me as I tried to figure out what it was taking out last bit of conditioner. I felt something coming around me then more cheep cheep. I wipe my eyes to my surprise I saw a bird no five maybe more in the shower with me. I tried to move but more I did more they attack me two in my hair other hitting me with its wings. My breathing started to fall short as panic set it. I tried not to scream thinking to all the safety videos I would watch growing up but it didn’t work. I tried pushing away shooing them but still nothing. The anxiety got so bad that after trying to hold it in I scream. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. They kept attacking me this time pecking me over and over. Taking my hands I tried to push then away. Still, they came after me. I grab for the shower curtain tight trying to find some escape. AHHHHHHHHHHHHELP. With one last scream, the curtain I was holding onto with my dear life suddenly gave. Suddenly everything faded to black. The only thing I could hear was the birds still chirping.

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lannisterdaddyissues · 4 years

Text

rolls off the tongue - aelswith/alfred

For the @tlkfanficfest.

A/N: Sorry this is late, I thought the deadline was July 6 and not July 5. Oops. Anyway, I was originally going to let @tsukkinami fill this prompt because I was too lazy and afraid to write it myself, but the KissFest was like a second chance for me! I will write a different pairing for the KissFest so don’t think you’ve seen the last of me ❤️

Prompt filled for: Pairings, 1. Aelswith/Alfred, first meeting

“You may call me Lord Alfred, or ‘my Lord’ if you prefer.” Aelswith’s betrothed nods gravely at her, face neutral and betraying nothing. It frustrates her to be faced with such unyielding ambivalence; pray, what does he think of her?

The Mercian recalls what her father told her only the day before, with a stern pinch in his brow.

“My dear, this union is for the good of Mercia. You will marry Lord Alfred and do your duty to your country. If God is good, he will be a good husband to you. If God has no mercy, then...”

Then she must be a good wife.

Alfred lifts his hand in a dismissive gesture. The rest of the room’s occupants bow their heads respectfully before retreating through the door and leaving it closed.

Aelswith dips low before him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Lord Alfred does not sound very well, she decides. It doesn’t roll pleasingly off the tongue.

Her eyes roam over his person as she contemplates the man before her. Lord Alfred is of a height with her father, though the former’s physique is slight and almost gaunt whereas her father is large of girth. He has a boyish face, pale skin and blotches of red on his cheeks, but his eyes are weary for all his nineteen years. He cannot be a boy with eyes like those.

It twists her good Christian heart to see such eyes.

“We are alone now,” he says, breaking the silence that has settled. When he speaks, his voice is soft, quiet, but it is not from timidity. He has the look of a thoughtful man, one who thinks before he speaks and weighs his words with care not to say the wrong thing. “Speak.”

What does he expect her to say? Aelswith had determined to play the part of a dutiful wife with all the grace of a woman of her station, but now that she is facing the man her life will be spent beside, her throat is dry and devoid of words.

“Wessex has been quite welcoming,” she eventually manages, twining her fingers together at her belly as she glances down demurely. He would have expected her to say that — she is doing her duty thus far. “It is a country that I can see myself at home in, some time in the future.”

Alfred inclines his head, acknowledging the compliment for what it is worth. She waits for him to say more. It is not the Lady’s place to address a man. He studies her intently, gaze traveling probingly over her person as though he can discern her every thought. It intimidates her.

You are a Christian?” Alfred inquires, eyes alighting upon the cross round her neck. Light glimmers in his eyes where before there was fog and mist. Aelswith smiles more genuinely this time, for her faith is her greatest pride.

“All good people are called by God to be Christian, my Lord,” she says piously. Alfred returns her smile with a ghost of his own.

“That is correct,” he says, and Aelswith warms to him. A Christian husband will be a good husband.

The shroud of silence that separates them before returns, and Aelswith wishes to banish it. Her eyes roam about the room in search of something to focus upon, eventually landing upon the scrolls on the table. Curiosity arises.

Alfred’s eyes follow hers and he brushes his fingertips over them reverently. They are manuscripts,” he says by way of explanation. Aelswith had understood that much. He continues, “The history of Wessex is written within them — history my brother writes, that I write.”

“History, my Lord?” Aelswith asks.

“History that we make.” Alfred’s face is serious now. “The Word of God is remembered and practised centuries after His life. To write oneself into history is to live forever within these pages. People will know of my brother and they will know of me.”

His words carry the weight of a crown now, the Lady thinks.

Alfred steps around the table to her side and their eyes meet, a storm of blue to earthen brown.

“Do you dream, Aelswith?” he asks seriously. Before she can respond, he resumes speaking.

“I dream of England,” Alfred says, “Wessex will one day become England, and when it happens, I will write the birth of England into this chronicle. It will be remembered.”

She believes him.

“One day I will rule, and it will be my duty to unite the kingdoms under a single God. This union is the first step to that dream,” he murmurs.

“Then I will share that dream with you,” she whispers. She is called as his wife-to-be to support him in all matters, to be his constant companion and salvation, but it would not be a hardship to see such a dream as Alfred’s realized. It is a lofty, noble dream, one that seems too large for his thin shoulders. Aelswith will offer her shoulder too and carry the burden.

She tilts her head to his, parting her lips in a silent invitation. His eyes flicker to them, gleaming with intent. It makes her belly twists with an unfamiliar want.

Their noses brush together in a tentative kiss, lips grazing light as feathers, and Aelswith’s firm and unyielding heart wavers. Alfred has the look of a priest, but he captures her mouth in his with a prince’s confidence.

She breathes hot into his mouth and his hands grasp at her shoulders, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss with a fervor she had not expected of him. It steals all the air from her lungs and Aelswith has to pull away in order to breathe. Alfred gasps as she breaks the kiss and he stares at her, eyes brightening as though he is seeing her through new eyes. Aelswith feels rather the same.

His hand reaches for hers and he twines their fingers together. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at her and Aelswith’s lips curve upward into a smile of her own.

“One day you will be queen,” Alfred says with conviction, squeezing her hand. “Queen of Wessex and later, Queen of England.” She likes the sound of that. “I would have you by my side,” he adds. She likes the sound of that even better.

“Yes, my Lord,” is all Aelswith can say, though inside her are many words that she could have said. He releases her palm from his grasp and Aelswith hopes to hold it again the next time.

Alfred dismisses her with another one of his crinkling smiles instead of a wave of the hand. Aelswith bows her head dutifully before closing the door to allow him his privacy.

As she departs from her betrothed’s writing room, Aelswith allows herself one last private smile.

Lord Alfred may not roll so pleasingly off the tongue, but perhaps the title of King would suit — King Alfred, though, now that sounded well.

tagging: @tsukkinami @seaberrycloudberry @myenglandmylove @sihtric @hislivinglegacy @cocchamscrew @bird-on-a-wire20 @for-bebbanburg @limenal @othermoony @nightskyfangirl @lauwrite1225

#tlkfff2020 #my writing #tlk #tlk alfred #tlk aelswith #aelswith x alfred #alfred x aelswith #fanfic #im crying i love them so much #honestly wanted to cry at writing the kissing scene they're both babies #i fell in love with this prompt when i saw it #WHO SUBMITTED IT #i want to be their friend

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67-chevy-baby · 4 years

Text

Take Away My Heartache

Pairing - Dean x Cas

Rating - 18+ Only!!

Squares Filled - Kink Bingo: Begging and Dean and Cas Bingo: Fight and Make-Up

Tags - SEASON 15 EPISODE 3 SPOILERS, Destiel, Arguments, Angst, Language, Drinking, M/M sex, Anal Fingering, Prostate stimulation, Anal Sex, Begging, Finger sucking, Unprotected sex, Implied self-blame, and I think that’s it.

Word Count - 3,753

Beta - @winecatsandpizza

Fic Aesthetic - Yours truly

The Song I Chose - Crazy Love by Van Morrison

Written for - @rockhoochie’s 1k Followers Writing Challenge, @spnkinkbingo, and @deanandcasbingo

Yeah, and why does that something always seem to be you?

The sting of Dean’s words cut through Castiel’s heart like a knife as the sound of the Bunker door shutting behind him echoed in the distance. Truth be told, he’d give anything to run right back into his hunter’s arms and forget the argument ever happened. His hunter. Those two little words used to bring him nothing but joy-something an Angel of the Lord rarely felt. Now … Now, it only brought tears to his eyes because clearly Dean wasn’t his. Not anymore.

The dry leaves crunched beneath Cas’ shoes as he walked. The cool autumn air nipping at the skin exposed at his neck made him shiver. Not only were he and Dean over, but he’d lost Jack too. Never in his entire existence had he felt so alone. Jack, his son for all intents and purposes, was dead. Even though there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop it at the time, he still blamed himself. He’d made a promise to Kelly. He swore to her he’d keep her son safe and he couldn’t even do that.

Hell, maybe Dean was right. Maybe he should have just stuck to the plan. They would have found a way to stop Belphegor. They’d saved the world before. This wasn’t their first go around. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and killed the lying sack of shit while he had the chance. He’d figured Dean would have been proud of him, cheered at his braveness. Not once did he think Dean would dismiss him like their ten-year-long relationship meant nothing.

Cas found himself in an all too familiar place. The barn where it all began. The very place he first stood face to face with Dean. It still looked the same. The various black warding sigils and chipped white paint were still there and immediately brought back every memory he shared with the elder Winchester. Finally, he let himself feel the emotions he’d been holding back. A choked sob left his lips as he sank down onto the cold, hard ground.

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The sound of glass shattering made Sam’s ears perk up. He hurried into the Library armed and ready only to find Dean hunched over the table. His hands splayed out on the dark wooden surface, the remnants of broken glass joined his beer in a wet puddle on the floor. Slowly, he lowered his gun and walked cautiously towards him. “Dean? Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Cas?” Dean didn’t look at him, his breathing heavy as his shoulders started to shake. Now, this was a sight. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother cry this hard. “Hey, whoa… Dean? C’mon man, talk to me.”

Dean shook his head, his tears falling against the table’s veneer. “He’s gone, Sammy…” Sam didn’t miss how broken his brother sounded. He wasn’t naive to the fact that Cas was intimate with Dean. You’d have to be blind not to know how they felt for one another. Sighing, he set his gun on the table and moved so he could see his brother’s face. “Dean, you have to calm down. I’m sure he’s coming ba-” The sound of the chair being kicked over made Sam jump, his brother’s tear-filled eyes boring into his own. “WHAT DON’T YOU GET, SAM?! CAS. IS. GONE. NEVER COMING BACK! END OF STORY!” Dean’s chest heaved as he fished the keys to the Impala out of his pocket. It wasn’t until his footfalls echoed down the hallway that Sam reacted. His long legs walking quickly after him. “Dean! Wait, Dean, you can’t just leave while you’re upset like this!”

Dean didn’t react to his little brother’s plea, but that didn’t stop Sam from trying. He was hot on his heels as they crossed the threshold of the Bunker’s garage. The familiar creak of the Impala’s door broke the silence between them as Sam waited for a response. Dean fired up the engine and gripped the steering wheel, the tips of his knuckles turning white as he let out a long shaky sigh. “Don’t you get it, Sammy? I break everything I touch. I’m poison. Happiness wasn’t meant for me. This life ... there’s no chance at love when you’re a part of it. I push everyone away and I’ll be damned if I do something to ruin the last relationship I have. Let me go, Sammy … before I force you to leave me too.”

Reluctantly Sam stepped back and watched Dean drive away. His brother’s words tearing at his heartstrings as the sleek black car disappeared out of sight. Part of what Dean said was true in a sense. Rarely did someone with their job description find happiness. He’d tried … time and time again he had tried. First with Jessica, the love of his life from his Stanford days. Then there was Amelia, the sweet veterinarian with a heart of gold. Eileen was another one that ultimately ended in tragedy.

Of course, there were others that Sam had been romantically involved with, but more often than not his love interests shared something in common with one another. They weren’t hunters. They didn’t spend every day knowing what went bump in the night or lurked just beyond the shadows. That’s one thing that was different between him and Dean. Before they’d met Cas, his brother didn’t care much about settling down. One night stands were his specialty, something that Sam often envied.

The moment Castiel made himself known to them, Dean’s whole demeanor changed. It was subtle at first. He started cutting back on the number of women he’d spend the night with. Then came the not so discreet glances. Cas was oblivious to them of course, but Sam wasn’t. He’d known his brother all his life so he was quite familiar with that look. Dean was attracted to the Angel. Once his stubborn brother got enough alcohol in his system he finally made his move. The rest was history.

The silence in the garage became almost deafening as Sam’s thoughts continued to race through his head. They’d lost so much recently. Their Dad, their Mom, Jack, and Rowena. So many people they loved were gone. He’d be damned if Dean lost Cas too.

He half jogged back into the library and picked up the broken pieces of his brother’s beer bottle. After cleaning up the wetness with a towel from the kitchen, he headed back to his room to get his phone. Hopefully, Cas still had the one they’d gave him. He held his breath as the shrill ringing filled his ears. “C’mon … C’mon” His persistent voice was the only sound in the room other than his boots pacing the floor.

After the third ring, he finally heard the gruff sound of Cas’ voice. “H-Hello?” A wave of relief washed over Sam. “Cas? Hey, don’t hang up okay? Just… hear me out…” He waited, listening for any sort of acknowledgment from the Angel. When he didn’t get any, he took the opportunity and kept going. “First things first, where are you? Are you safe?” A cough and a low groan made his chest heavy with worry. “Cas?”

“Sam, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m an Angel. I can take care of myself.” Sam frowned and stopped pacing, his hand finding purchase on his hip. “That’s not what I …” He sighed, not wanting to be the second person that argued with him today. “Look, Cas, I realize it’s not my place, but I know what you have with Dean is worth fighting for. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you. He’s just… he’s a little lost right now. In no way am I defending his actions because I don’t know what was said, but I will stand here and say that my brother loves you. He’s madly in love with you, Cas…”

A shaky breath on the other end of the phone told Sam that he was still there. "I...I love him too, Sam. Like I've never loved anyone or anything before." Another ragged cough told Sam that Cas wasn’t being forthcoming with how bad his health really was and it worried him. Hell, shouldering pain and wounds was one of their specialties after all. “Cas, listen to me, okay? Everything that’s happened recently has taken its toll on all of us. I can’t speak for you or Dean, but having to … to” A shaky sigh left his lips as tears threatened to slip down his cheeks. Eventually, a few betrayed him and his vision became blurry as he forced the words out. “... kill Rowena wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.” He cleared the lump in his throat and swallowed thickly. “What I’m trying to say is we can get through this. We’ve saved the world so many times, and I’ll be damned if we let God’s little temper tantrum do us in.”

Cas wasn’t saying anything, but his occasional exhale told Sam he was still there. “Please, Cas. Just tell me where you are so I can come and get you.” Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity. Finally, relief washed over Sam when he heard the Angel respond. “The barn … I’m at the barn where it all began.” “I’ll be there as fast as I can, Cas! Just … stay there.” Sam hung up and began packing his duffel bag.

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Dean welcomed the smooth burn of the whiskey in his glass as he knocked it back. Maybe if he drank enough he’d be able to forget those sad blue eyes and how he was the cause of said emotion. The bartender eyed him curiously but filled his glass again nevertheless. “Relationship problems?” Dean downed the golden brown liquid in two gulps before sliding the cup back. “With all due respect, it’s really none of your business. Now, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to drink until I’m numb. In fact, just go ahead and leave the bottle.” After tossing a few twenties and sporting a stern look, the man seemed to get the message. Even if Dean didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, it was better than sharing them with some stranger just to be judged. He took another sip and groaned happily. Yep, being alone was much better.

The vibration of his phone startled him out of his thoughts once again. “Now, what?” He grumbled. Seeing his brother’s name lit up on the screen made him roll his eyes, but he swiped to answer anyway. “Dammit, Sammy. I’ve been gone for a few hours what could you possibly…” He was cut off by the frantic edge in Sam’s voice. “Dean! It’s… It’s Cas… he… he told me he was at the barn where you met. I went to get him a-and now he… he won’t wake up.”

Dean felt his blood run cold.

He pushed the stool away from the counter and all but ran back to the Impala. “What do you mean he won’t wake up?!” Baby’s tires spun as Dean pulled back onto the main road toward the Bunker. “I-I-I don’t know, Dean… He’s breathing, but he seems to be in some sort of celestial coma? When I talked to him on the phone, he kept coughing and wheezing. I don’t know what to do. Normally, I’d call Rowena, but… she’s…” Dean cut his brother off before he could finish, his knuckles white on the steering wheel for the second time that day. “Sammy, listen to me. Just get back to the Bunker as fast as you can. I’ll meet you there, and we will figure this out … the Winchester way.” He ended the call and tossed his phone on the seat next to him, his boot pushing the gas pedal all the way to the floor.

The moment Sam arrived with Cas, Dean was there to help. They carried him to the hospital wing in the Bunker and carefully laid him on the cot. Dean couldn’t help but notice how sickly his angel looked. He’d lost weight, his skin was pale and hot to the touch, and his lips were chapped more than they normally were. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he looked at his brother with defeat. “Sammy… I.. I can’t lose him. I was so stupid… so fucking stupid…” His shoulders shook violently the moment he let his emotions take over.

Sam was determined to make things better again. Not just for his brother, but for the sole fact that he refused to let anyone else they cared for die. “Keep an eye on him, Dean. I’ll hit the books and make some phone calls. You should stay here just in case he wakes up.” All Dean could do was nod and watch as Sam walked away. He turned his gaze back to Cas, his fingertips reaching up to gently caress his cheek. He was afraid to do much else.

Eventually, Dean’s eyes grew heavy as the adrenaline wore off from earlier. Leaving Cas was out of the question, so he did the only thing he could think of and gently curled up on the mattress beside him. He slung his arm protectively over the angel’s torso and carefully laid his head against his chest. He couldn’t help the memories of their first night together flooding his mind. How they listened to music in Baby and drove out in the country to look at the stars. A tear slid down his cheek as he began to softly sing their song, the one that Cas insisted they listen to on repeat the whole trip home.

I can hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles

And the heaven's open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

Yeah when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

Yes I need her in the daytime

Yes I need her in the night

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss and hug her, kiss and hug her tight

Yeah when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole

Yes it makes me mellow down into my soul

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

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The last thing Castiel remembered was seeing Sam’s concerned face. Then there was only darkness. He wasn’t dead, no, this was something different. A coma maybe? He couldn’t open his eyes or move, but he was able to hear everything going on around him. Angels normally don’t go through things like this, but if their bodies get too worn down then they go into somewhat of a protective mode. He figured this is what happened to him when he used the last of his strength to teleport himself to the barn. His celestial powers needed to replenish.

He hated hearing how worried Sam and Dean were. He especially hated how much Dean blamed himself. He’d spent so much time showing his boyfriend how much good he brought to the world, and now he felt like Dean was closing himself off again. He’d only wanted to take some of the stress from Dean. That’s why he chose to kill Belphegor instead of letting him do more damage. Cas knew Dean didn’t mean to hurt him and he longed to tell him how sorry he was.

It became a waiting game, letting his vessel reenergize itself. There was no telling how long it would take, but Castiel took comfort in knowing that the man he loved was snuggled into his side. If only he could have comforted Dean and wiped his tears. The sound of the elder Winchester’s voice filled the small room, and it was then that he realized Dean was singing to him. Cas’ heart both soared and broke at the same time by the emotion in his voice as the lyrics flowed freely from memory. The last thing he heard before Dean fell asleep was him saying how sorry he was and how much he loved him.

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Dean groaned and tightened his grip around Castiel. What time was it? Had Sam found anything? Several questions ran through his mind as he prepared to open his eyes. Before he could, he felt a hand smooth down his back. His heart skipped a beat as he sat up. Beautiful blue eyes gazed into his own, and Dean looked at him like it was the first time he saw him all over again. “Cas?! Cas! Oh, I’m so happy you’re okay. I’m sorry for the things I said to you before. I was so stupid and I know you were just trying t-” His rambling was cut off as Cas smashed his lips against his. Their tongues danced together and when Cas finally pulled away he was panting as hard as Dean was.

“Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for. I forgave you the moment it happened, and there’s nothing you could do to make me love you any less. You will always be perfect in my eyes. Forever the Righteous Man I saved and rebuilt all those years ago. I love you.” Dean placed another emotional kiss to Cas’ lips, pouring all his love and need into it. Never in his life did he think he’d be able to settle down with anyone. Being a hunter of the supernatural meant a short life span more often than not. He was conditioned to not get too attached to anyone, but with Cas, he couldn’t help himself. This was different. Cas was different, and without the Angel, in his life, he’d be incomplete.

The need to feel Castiel’s touch nearly took his breath away. No words were spoken as they rid each other of their clothes. Cas flipped them over so he was hovering above Dean, his blue eyes glowing with power. Dean felt his cock swell in anticipation, his breathing becoming more ragged by the second. “Cas, please…”

Castiel began to trail kisses along his jaw, nipping at the skin now and again. The moment he began sucking at Dean’s pulse point he could feel just how much he needed him. His cock was pinned between Cas’, the tip weeping beads of precum. “Look at you, Dean. You’re a fucked out mess and I’ve barely touched you.” Dean whined shamelessly at his words, his hand reaching between their bodies to slowly stroke Cas’ length. “Mmmm, Dean… Gonna make you feel so good.” Cas brought two of his fingers up to Dean’s lips, pushing them into his mouth. “Suck.”

Dean obliged, swirling his tongue skillfully around his digits. Cas nearly came at the sight below him. The way the elder Winchester fluttered his eyes shut the moment his perfect lips closed around them, his soft moans as his slick tongue flicked over his fingertips, and the constellation of freckles littered over his skin. Reluctantly, Cas pulled them free and pressed one against Dean’s entrance. “Relax for me.” It wasn’t a command, but Dean knew it would do him well to obey. The first few moments were always painful, but the pleasure Cas promised was better than anything he’d ever felt.

“C-Cas… I… I need you. Please… don’t make me wait… F-Fuck!” Cas knew he’d found Dean’s prostate just from the sound of Dean’s plea. His fingers grazed the bundle of nerves making the man beneath him shiver. “As much as I’d love to fuck you into this mattress, Dean, I very much like hearing you beg.”

Dean whimpered as Cas continued to slowly fuck him open with his fingers, his hands fisting the thin sheet under him. “Unngh! P-Please fuck me… need you inside me so bad.” Cas smirked and peppered kisses along Dean’s chest. “I know you can do better than that, Dean. I’ve seen you do it.”

Dean arched his back and cried out, his mouth opening in a perfect “o” shape. “I need it! Oh, fuck I n-need it, Cas! Need you to fuck me until I can’t think anymore… Please…. Oh, fuck! Please. Please. Please…” Finally, Cas gave in. His cock replacing his fingers as he slowly thrust inside Dean to the hilt. Both cried out in unison, their bodies thrumming with arousal.

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean softly before starting a steady pace. It was a wonder the poorly built cot didn’t break beneath them. Dean’s cries filled the small room as Cas fucked into him relentlessly. “Oh, fu-... C-Cas! Oh, Cas! R-Right there!” They’d done this enough that Cas knew Dean was close. The way his body shook, how desperate he sounded when he moaned, and how he clenched around him. He’d normally draw this out, take his time with his hunter, but this was something they both needed.

Cas began to stroke Dean’s thick cock in time with his thrusts, his angelic grace causing the lightbulbs above them to burst with all the energy in the room. Both of them fell over the edge together, Dean’s cries swallowed by Cas’ kiss.

Once they came down from their high, Cas carefully pulled out of Dean and pulled him close. “Dean, you complete me. From the moment my father told me to rescue you from Hell, I knew my life would change forever.” Dean kissed Cas sweetly and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you, Cas. M’heart s’yours.”

Sometime later, Sam came home from the library and noticed how quiet the Bunker was. He made his way to the hospital room and snorted to himself at the broken glass on the floor. Glancing at the cot, he smiled widely at the sight of his brother and Cas asleep in each other’s arms.

“Thank God.” He breathed.

Forever Tags: @desiree-0816

#spnkinkbingo #deanandcasbingo #rockhoochies1k #destiel #dean and cas #spn spoilers #'pala writes

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