#months before my elbows stopped twinging when I bent them too far.

[neverendingford]

.

[breserker]

ao3 down and struggling to get back up? no problem!

this isn't the entirety of chapter 5 of Blink, Snow, Corduroy, but i'll post what i wrote before having to settle in for beddy-bye regardless. the end of this is where i initially toyed with ending chapter 4, anyway. so.

----

Fuck. She was knitting herself into the salty soaked fabric of his shirt. Fuck. Eileen struggled to pull away, lightheaded and fighting the sudden collapse of comfort from his embrace. Henry held her lightly enough that when she tried wrenching away his arms fell to her elbows, then slid off her skin completely as she backed up into the wall of the front hallway and jammed her hands into her eyes.

Fuck, stop crying. Use your words. Speak! Eileen bit her lip and swallowed, her voice going down her throat with it. Henry had seen her cry before, surely remembered how blotchy and red her skin got to the point where her freckles disappeared into the color completely. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was she wanted to have a real, adult, calm conversation with him. Sit down, talk about life, catch up, affirm for herself that it wasn’t just her going insane when suddenly her puzzle piece didn’t fit into the family picture. But here she was, overwhelmed and immature and sobbing like a scared woman again.

“I’m—,” she gulped down too much air, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay…,” Henry said, soft, like she remembered his voice being. Also stiff, unsure, a little off in that it wouldn’t have given her any comfort if she didn’t know him. But she heard it, the twinge of pain in his voice from where he placed himself in her shoes—struggling to speak but unable to, and whatever speech did come out was distorted and awkward. There were times where it sounded like he either struggled with a stutter or had in the past; something that had stolen away his confidence to speak before it had even developed. She shook her head, not to reject his consolation but to damn herself for needing it in the first place.

“I just—,” she tried, then failed to regain her voice. Henry watched her for a moment more, sobbing quietly into the sleeve pulled up her wrist.

“A-Are you. Uh. How’s, um. How’d you…What are you doing here?” he tried and failed on several questions, many of them sounding like he was going to ask are you okay when clearly, certainly, she was not. Eileen let out a gasping sob at his completed question and found enough voice to speak.

“I’ve just. Been on the road for over a month. I think I’m tired.”

Henry gently bent to catch her eye, and she peeked over her hands to see that that did not answer the real concern behind his failed questions.

“Uh,” she bought for time by reaching into her bag and pulling out the magazines rolled open to the pages of his photography. Henry’s eyes widened, especially when she pointed to the floral one, “I really, really need to talk to you.”

Henry reached out and carefully took the magazine from her hand, his eyes lingering on the flowers before going back to her, “Did...something happen?”

That broke through her sobbing with a red hot frustration and she threw her hands down with a violent scoff. What hasn’t been happening? Things hadn’t stopped happening! “I don’t know, where do I even start? I can’t—I can’t get my life together long enough for anything to feel normal again. And I know—I know it can’t be, but, fuck, can’t I just pretend?” She thought of all her failed relationships, especially of Shane and his turnabout betrayal. She thought of Ethan’s meddling, Eric’s far-too-adventurous spirit, her father’s jokes and stinging wisdom, her mother’s untenable sadness when she looked at her. Eileen’s scoff turned into a scowl that weakened and faded back into a morose pout, still trying to keep tears inside.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, in that I feel like...Like it’s all fucking pointless, anyway.”

Though Henry had been listening, his eyes had drifted back to the flower photograph in his hand. When she said pointless, however, he sharply returned to her face, the concern unwavering as he studied her. She met his gaze, fierce while maintaining a pained vulnerability.

“I don’t want to do anything stupid. But I couldn’t be in my house anymore. I couldn’t be around my family anymore. And that feels like...like…,”

Like she was betraying them as much as Shane betrayed her. Giving up. Leaving them behind. They weren’t good enough, and Eileen was telling them as much. But they weren’t working for her either, even if they did so for her sake.

Eileen sighed, her shoulders dropping as she rubbed her sore temples, “Maybe I should...start from the beginning, huh?” Or the end, rather.

Henry blinked, “Are you tired? Did you just...drive here?”

“I stopped at a motel first,” Eileen said, “I’m…,”

She looked up at him, this time to really take in how the years had settled on his face. His age hid well, or maybe she had just been used to seeing him with heavy bags under his eyes from the insomnia. His stubble laid thicker on his jaw, to the point where she could get away calling it a proper beard just from how thick it looked despite the shortness of it. Beneath the left corner of his lip there was a little patch of white hair, and if she squinted she could see the occasional gray strand swept up in the hair on his head. His eyes were the same, though. Hazel. Gentle, because they were quite bad at hiding what he was feeling to counterbalance that he was otherwise too good at hiding himself. Yet even that had been initially hard to understand back in the day, because like then his eyes still hid beneath dark brows and bangs that fell into his face. All things considered, he looked good. No worse for wear, even if the bags under his eyes seemed deeper—permanent, now.

Eileen opened her mouth to tell him as much when the center of his sharp straight nose flickered. Her eyes widened in recognition and panic as another shape flickered out of time with the first one. Slowly as she stared yet another shape connected to the first two started to flicker. Soon her vision would become a kaleidoscope of shapes tessellated into a spiral, all flickering out of time with one another.

“Shit,” she hissed in panic, “Shit, I have to go,”

Startled, Henry reached out and grasped her arm, “Go? What—what happened?”

She raised her arm, ready to fling him off if need be, but the clip in his voice was concern born from fear rather than anger and Eileen twisted her expression, “I-I have to, go, a, a migraine,”

“Migraine,” Henry said both as a question and with a solemn understanding. The grip on her arm became firm and soon she was guided into the living room as more and more flickering shapes took up the expanse of her vision, “Please, lay down.”

“I’m—,” she wanted to say she was fine, that she’d take care of it, to apologize, the million anxieties were spiking again and twisting that she had not only sobbed instead of greeted him but the adult conversation she wanted to have was interrupted with such stupid timing. As Henry gently pushed her onto the couch though she succumbed to the reality of the situation and frantically gripped him to spit out, “Meds, glove compartment, in my car. Silver sedan, out front. Keys in bag.”

“Got it.” Henry graciously gave her, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch to lay on half her body before the shape of him disappeared from her flickering vision. Eileen covered her face with her hands, groaned, and quietly wept as she pulled the blanket over her head. As the flickering reached the edges of her vision the pain erupted and she buried as far into the dark as she could make it.

[thecleverdame]

All Teeth and Bad Intentions

Pairings: Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader

Summary: Sam gets jealous...pretty much just filth with a touch of fluff.

This is set right after The Brown Bottle, One More Time and The Morning After (read those first). They are listed in my master list. 

Warnings: NSFW gif, dubcon(kinda), knotting, mating, breeding, dominance, claiming, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, dirty talk, rough sex, ownership, manhandling, jealousy, cum play

Words: 5200+

Beta: @moonlitskinwalker

-

Sam’s hands are everywhere, palming your ass while slender fingers pluck at hard nipples. His mouth at your neck, licking with the flat of his tongue before sucking the skin until it stings. The weight of his body relaxes on top of you as his lips seal over yours in a series of messy, open-mouth kisses that elicit a stir between your legs.

“Sam,” you manage breathlessly before he kisses you silent, his mouth harder than before. Placing both hands on his chest you gently push back, but he doesn't budge. “Hold on,” you mumble in protest. It doesn’t stop him, instead, he rolls his hips between your thighs and the head of his cock pokes the swollen lips of your sex.

It’s been seven days. Seven days of non-stop fucking and Sam doesn’t seem the slightest bit sated. You suspect his rut is coming. Claiming you set certain things into motion, so, in addition to the horniness of being newly mated, he’s also fueled by his cycle building in momentum.

He reaches between your bodies, grasping his dick to line himself up before thrusting forward, his cock sliding deep until his balls rock into your ass. He snarls, nipping at your jaw. “So fuckin’ tight.”

“Ow,” you hiss digging nails into his biceps.

That seems to be the first word that registers for him because he stills, shoved inside your pussy, lifting his head up to look down at you. He’s come to recognize a symphony of moans and whimpers that tell him what you need, but this is something he hasn’t heard before.

“What’s wrong?” His lip curls, eyes sweeping down across your breasts, and then further, sneaking a peek at his cock splitting you open. He rolls his hips, pulling out just a little before nudging deeper than before. When you respond with a pained whimper he grimaces and stops. “What is it?”

“I’m sore.” You respond, biting your lip as your cunt throbs around his manhood.

“Where?” Sam asks thoughtfully, propping himself on his forearms, shifting his weight.

“Everywhere,” you confess.

Sam looks confused but it’s only for a moment before realization washes over his face. You think he might apologize and pull out, but he doesn’t. He just looks you dead in the eyes and says “tell me where.”

Truth be told it would be easier to list the parts that don’t hurt. Your scalp is tender from Sam’s hands twisting and yanking fists of hair and your backside twinges at the thought of him spanking you again, your round little ass can’t take much more. But you have a faint idea of what’s he asking, he wants a starting point. So you give him one.

“My mouth.” You’ve sucked his cock for the better part of a week, letting him come down your throat like a porn star. “And my jaw.” He pauses to grin, giving your effort the appreciation it deserves and then kisses your lips with a feathery light touch before traveling to your jaw with just the brush of his mouth until he’s made his way from ear to ear.

He lifts his head, looking down at you. “Where else?”

“My nipples.” Sam loves to pinch and tug on your nipples as foreplay but he really loves to suck on them while he’s fucking you, biting down until you squeal and claw at his back “They’re raw.”

“I didn’t realize,” he mumbles, cupping a full breast in his hand and closing his mouth around the stiff bud. He doesn’t suck, just runs his tongue, warm and wet, back and forth with gentle precision before moving to the other.

“Alpha,” you moan, writhing. His cock is still inside you eliciting a conflicted mix of pleasure and pain as you feel the tug of his thick shaft.

“Where else?” he looks up. His lips ghosting, just fluttery pecks over the swell of your breasts.

“My hips.” Your hips are the one area he already knows about. He’s tried to be gentle. You’re sporting black and blue fingerprints around your entire waist, reminders of how hard he grabs when he’s really in the moment, fucking you like an animal.

Without so much as a sigh, he pulls his cock out of your pussy and slides down, dragging his nose over your hip bones. He kisses each bruise, slowly and deliberately, until he’s given them all equal attention.

“What about this?” Sam asks. He’s between your legs now, two fingers oh-so-tenderly slipping between the wet, puffy lip of your cunt and opening you like a flower. “Do you ache here too, Omega? My cock too much for this perfect little pussy?”

“Yes.” You wrench your eyes shut, head tipping back. He’s popped his knot inside you more times than you can count over the last week, you’re walking like an overworked jockey. He’s had you in positions you didn’t even know were physically possible, fucking hard and deep as his hips slapped into your ass.

Sam’s tongue scoops over your clit, slow at first until you’re groaning like a whore and shoving yourself into his face. He speeds up, lapping the bundle of nerves as you rock from side to side, thighs clamped around his head. You’re not even sure if he can breathe down there, but you don’t give a shit as your orgasm creeps in.

He’s gone down on you plenty of times before, but this is different. Normally he wants control, he holds you in place, keeps you pinned to the bed. forcing your legs wide. But not this time. This time you lock your ankles behind his neck, thrashing back and forth until you come like a freight train. grinding your pussy into his chin. Your empty cunt pulses around nothing, but you can almost feel him inside, like the pain of a phantom limb.

He draws out every inch of pleasure possible, swirling his tongue in broad circles around your clit until your orgasm leaves you nothing more than a pile of raw connections, twitching and grasping at his shoulders.

When your legs fall apart he stands over you and strokes his cock, jerking himself until he comes in pearly white ropes. He groans as he spurts warm seed over your breasts and stomach, then down farther to shoot the final vestiges over the mound of your pussy.  

“Fuck,” he groans holding his dick, a predatory smile pulls his lips over his teeth. “You look good like this.”

“I feel like a mess,” you tease, propping yourself up on bent elbows.

“Still,” he tilts his head before climbing on the bed to lie beside you, carefully bending your leg at the knee, leaving your sex exposed. “Seems like a waste.” With two fingers he swipes across your sullied stomach, coating them in his spunk before slipping inside your sensitive pussy. He doesn't push in too far, just a couple inches, gently stroking with shallow movement.

“Baby,” you whimper, clenching your legs around his hand.

“I know, I know,” he rubs his nose into your temple. “You need a break.”

--

Chad’s in his early twenties. He’s as tall as Sam, built like a brick wall and definitely a newly turned Alpha. You guess he’s a couple months old and stupid as one would assume. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s the one who’s turned all four of his buddies, two of them are also Alphas, the others Betas.

All five of them are at your bar, making a scene and acting like idiots but you don’t really mind. As long as they don’t get in a fight or piss off the regulars you let it slide.

“Look at you baby, fuck that ass looks tight.” Chad bites his finger as his friends snicker behind him. It’s clear he’s the sad little king of his own sad little world. Your turn around, smiling and setting down five shots followed by five beers.

“Your mother know you talk like that?” You sling Chad a look and crack a Miller Lite for one of your regulars, Toby, who’s sitting at the end of the bar doing his best to stay upright.

“She’d understand if she saw you.” He grins, his eyes unabashedly staring at your breasts. He notices the scar at your neck for the first time and pounds on the counter turning to his friend. “And she’s one of us! I knew you smelled special.”

“Keep your voice down.” You lean in, covering the bite with your hair as he oggles you like a turkey leg in a Wile E Coyote cartoon. “You even know what this means?”

“It means your like us,” He licks his lips. “Like me. I’ll take good care of you if you give me the chance...Omega.”

“I said, keep your damn voice down. Not everyone here is in on our little secret.” You hiss. “And I already got someone to take care of me, so why don’t you boys go buy that table of questionably dressed girls a drink and free up the bar.”

“Ouch,” he groans with his hand over his heart as if you’ve wounded him. He leans forward with his forearms on the counter, when he grins it’s all teeth. “But I like you so, so much.”

“Yeah, well if you’re staying you better tip well.”

And he does.

It’s a couple hours later when Sam, Dean and the rest of their crew barrel through the door. They take over a table at the back near the jukebox and Benny heads to the bar.

“Hey.” Benny nods.

“Hey back,” you smile. “Usual?”

“Yup.” He looks from you to Chad and friends. “You need any help?”

“They’re harmless.” You wave a hand.

“Don’t be so sure.” If Chad’s good at one thing it’s inserting himself into your conversations. “I could tear you up.”

“Hey,” you snap, slapping the counter with an open palm. “What’d I say about say about that kind of shit?”

-

Sam wonders if you’re pregnant yet. You casually swipe a hand across your flat belly, exchanging a smile and comment with the old drunk at the end of the bar, and all Sam can think about is what you’re going to look like when you’re swollen with his child. He can imagine your round stomach in such vivid detail it makes his balls ache.

You never leave his mind, you’re always there; mentally if not physically. It's just incomprehensible. You’re the one stable force, his one stability in a world filled with chaos that he didn’t know he needed. Two weeks ago if someone would have asked if he wanted children he would have dismissed the idea outright, but then you came along and now it’s the only thing he thinks about.

Sam’s not an unreasonable person, but he’s the pack Alpha, this is his territory and you’re his Omega, but none of that is stopping the blonde guy at the bar from coming onto to you like a back alley hooker.

There’s something about the way he’s is looking at you that’s making Sam’s blood pressure rise. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t fucked you in two days. He’s on the cusp of a rut and all he’s wanted for the last twenty hours is to pound you into the mattress. But you, understandably, needed a break, and you’re gonna to need it.

His eyes narrow as you laugh big and wide, engaging the douche-bag and making conversation. As soon as you have your back turned he’s elbowing his buddy, slapping each other like cavemen as they stare at your ass.

“Why do we even come here, man?” Dean asks, resting his elbows on the table “She’s a bartender, it’s gonna happen.”

“Fuck you.” Sam grunts, tipping back beer.

“I’m just sayin’, there’s no reason to torture yourself.” Shrugging Dean turns his attention to the scene unfolding before him.

“That anything I should be worried about or just some college kids?” Sams ask Benny as he arrives with a tray of beer.

“She says it’s fine,” he looks back at the bar.  

“Human?” Sam presses.

“Nope,” Benny points his bottle toward Sam. “He’s an Alpha.”

-

“I got one more,” Chad bellows, vying for your attention. Despite the fact that he’s kind of a pig you are enjoying his repertoire of filthy jokes. He’s actually pretty funny. “What do the mafia and pussies have in common?”

Oh lord. “I don’t know, what?”

“One slip of the tongue and you’re in deep shit!” He finishes and half the bar is laughing right along with you.

“Alright,” you set down a rag and place both hands on the counter. “I’ve got a one for you.”

“Hit me with it.” He motions toward his chest.

“What’s the difference between your dick and a bonus check?” He shrugs and you finish “Someone’s always willing to blow your bonus.”

The entire bar erupts and you take a bow. Still chuckling you glance up, suddenly aware that you have a very intent audience. It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong, but you wouldn’t know that by the way they’re looking at you from across the room you. Benny, Dean, the scary little brunette and a bunch of other guys you’ve never officially met are watching silently.

Then there’s Sam. He’s just sitting in his chair with his hand clenched around a beer, his eyes are locked on you with a scowl that drains the color from your face.

“What’s wrong sweetheart,” Chad glances back, and then reaches forward, his hand covering yours. This kid really doesn’t understand, he doesn’t even recognize a pack when he sees it. If he were a more mature Alpha wolf he’d be able to easily smell others of his kind, but newly turned wolves have fucked senses. “I’m not your only fan, huh?”

“Don’t touch me.” You hiss pulling your hand away but he holds firm. You pull back again and he yanks you forward in turn. Not aware of his own strength your ribs connect with the counter. Chad lets you go immediately, oblivious to the impending doom that’s headed in his direction because Sam was out his chair the second Chad laid his hands on you.

You dash around the bar, trying to intervene as Sam whacks him on the shoulder. “Hey, asshole.”

“Sam,” you try to slink between them, placing a hand on his chest. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Sam glares at you, it’s a frightening look you’ve seen before, but never been the on the receiving end of. “Get out of the way,” he instructs, blinking emotionlessly.

“I got a pretty good idea what I’m doing.” Chad stands up from his chair and his friends follow suit.

“Sam-” You stop as Sam’s fingers curl around your wrist.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, Omega. Get out of the way.” He’s never given you a command before, yeah, he’s bossy when he’s fucking you and you always do what he says, but he’s never spoken to you like this outside of the bedroom.

There’s a part of you that wants to tell him to fuck off, because you don’t like being ordered around like a child; but he’s your Alpha, marking his territory, and you don’t have a death wish, so you take a step back.

“Over here sweetheart,” Dean’s hands are on your shoulders, pulling you away from Sam, and slipping in front of you.

“I didn’t know she’d just do what she’s told.” Chad snickers, stepping up to Sam. They’re roughly the same size, but Sam’s in his prime and headed into a rut; he’s lethal. Not to mention he’s got a dozen other Alphas who’d die for their pack leader in the blink of an eye. Any hope of Chad getting wise and shutting up goes right out the window when he adds “I would have told her to get on her knees a while ago.”

“You hear this guy, Dean?” Sam tilts his head, his lip curling.  

“I heard him.” Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Not a smart move kid.”

“You come into my territory, touch my Omega, and then have the fucking nerve to talk to me like that?” Sam’s a breath away from Chad’s face. “She’s mine. You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.”

“What? Did you piss on her? As far as I can see she’s free to do whoever she wants.” Chad spits, looking rather proud of his comeback.

Before Sam was your Alpha, he terrified you. Sam, Dean and their merry little gang aren’t the kind of guys who do a lot of talking when it comes to disputes, they settle things the old school way with their fists. Over the past week and a half you’ve become complacent. Sam’s your mate and lover and you forgot the side of him that scared the shit out of you, until now. You don’t have a shadow of a doubt that he’ll kill Chad and he’ll do it right here in the middle of your mother’s bar.

“Sam, he doesn’t know, he’s a baby.” You try to sneak around Dean but he catches you, holding you back. “He doesn’t know the rules.”

You watch Sam process your words as he tilts his chin up, scenting the young Alpha who’s too stupid to stand down. His mouth twitches, and you think he’s going to rip Chad’s throat out but instead, he turns away, grabs you by the arm and hauls you out of the bar.

-

“What the fuck are you doing?” You try to twist away, but Sam’s got a vice grip on your arm dragging you through the parking lot.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he spits, walking faster as you scramble to keep up with him.

“Sam, stop” you attempt to dig your feet in and stumble, but Sam keeps you from falling.

“We’re leaving.” He snarls.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you right now.” You protest.

“Hey buddy, maybe you should listen to her.” A guy puffing on a cigarette next to his truck steps forward. “It doesn’t look like she wants your hands on her.”

“I’ll put my hands wherever the fuck I want to. Mind your own business buddy.” Sam sneers and releases your arm taking a step toward him. Dean’s trotting toward you, ready to back Sam up. It won’t be a fair fight, this guy is nothing but a human who has no idea what’s getting himself into.

Shit.

“Okay,” you grab Sam’s arm. “Let’s go, take me home Sam. Come on.”

--

“You don’t just get to tell me what to do. I don’t respond to commands.” You sneer, it’s the same fight you had on the way home, just moved to the kitchen.

“I’m your Alpha,” he slaps his chest with his palm. “You’re my responsibility.”

“That doesn’t mean that I just blindly follow orders.”

“If I tell you to do something, I expect you to listen.” He counters.

“Well, good luck with that. I’ve never been very good at listening to anyone. You don’t own me.”

“What do you think that mark on your neck means? You belong to me.” He’s deadly serious.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” You know that’ll piss him, it’s why you say it.

“You know what a claimed Omega without an Alpha is? A whore. Is that what you want? To be a bar slut for the rest of your life. You’re already halfway there.”

“Fuck you!” You slap him, hard.

He stares at you, flabbergasted as his face stings red and then he grabs you by the hair, twisting a fist full of it between his fingers. Your neck arches back and you whimper, “you’re hurting me.”

He releases you immediately, hissing like you’ve burned him. “Shit, I-” he runs both his hands through his hair, breathing deep and slow. He bends down, resting his hand on his knees, still shaking with anger. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Y/N. You have to help me because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how to be a mate.”

“All you have to do is trust me, Sam.” You step toward him, “I’ve got three guys a night like that asshole, accidentally touching my ass and asking for my number. It was happening long before I met you and it still happens.”

“Perfect,” he shifts his jaw, standing tall.

“I would never let someone touch me, I mean really touch me. There’s this invisible line and ninety-nine percent of the time people don’t cross it. When someone does, you’re welcome to step in and beat the shit out of them, but until then you’ve got to let it go.”

“You were defending him.” Sam squints at you like you’ve betrayed him. “Why are you even worried about some asshole getting what’s coming to him?”

“I wasn’t worried about him, I was worried about you. You’re all amped up Sam, you’ve been spoiling for a fight for days. What happens if you beat that guy in the middle of the bar? What happens when you hurt him or worse, and you do it in front of a bunch of humans? I’ll tell you what, you end up in jail.” He hadn’t even thought about that, all he could see was you protecting another Alpha...but you weren’t.

“Did I hurt you?” Hesitantly he steps forward, waiting to see if you’ll let him near you. When you don’t back away he reaches out and grabs your waist.

“I’m fine,” you place your hands over his.

“I shouldn’t say those things to you,” resting his chin on your head as he pulls you into an embrace, he’s still on edge you can feel it. He’s not capable of relaxing, not yet anyway.

“I shouldn’t either,” leaning back you look up at him. “I’m sorry I slapped you.” Taking his wrist you pull his hand up to your neck, covering the scar.

“I just have all these thoughts running through my brain. A thousand different scenarios where I end up without you.” Sam pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you.”

-

As a general rule, Sam is dominant. Half of it’s the Alpha in him, the other half is just his personality, but tonight he relinquishes just a little of that control. He lets you fuck him.

He watches you bouncing up and down on his cock with an enthusiasm reminiscent of a strung out cheerleader.

You lean forward to kiss him, running a hand up his chest and Sam meets you halfway, trailing fingers down your arm. All of the women he’s fucked were at least a little scared of him, most of them knew who or what he was and none of them ever kissed him the way you do. He thinks he might be getting soft because fuck if he doesn’t live for the way you look at him like he’s your whole Goddamn world when you press your mouth to his. You’re not the least bit intimidated, instead, you just keep kissing him like you’re two kids making out in your parents' basement.

He’s not sure why he’s never done this before because the view is absolutely amazing. He gets to watch your mouth fall open, pussy clenching in pleasure. From this vantage point he’s got a spectacular view of your breasts jiggling and the shaft of his shiny, thick cock disappearing into your pussy. Two big hands cup each of your breasts, pushing them together. “God, I love these tits.”

Sam wonders if this is what it feels like to be in love. He doesn’t believe in sappy shit like love at first sight, but this can’t be far off. Logically, he knows it’s all hormones and base instincts, you’re his mate now and this bond is like nothing he could have previously imagined. It has to be close to whatever love is, and he thinks he might get to experience the real thing soon enough.

“So fuckin’ tight, Omega.” Sam sits up, nipping at your throat. When your pace slows he gives you proper motivation to keep moving.  “Don’t stop” His hand comes down on your butt cheek with a crack and you yelp, sliding a hand around the back of his neck for leverage as you pick up speed. “Keep fucking yourself on my cock, baby...yeah, just like that. You like the way I feel inside you?”

“Yes,” you moan, finding his mouth with yours. You’re sweaty, really fuckin’ sweaty, drenched like a marathon runner as you ride him and skin slips over skin. He feels bigger than before, it’s only been two days, but having him so deep inside reminds you of just how good he makes you feel, so stretched out and unbelievable full. “I fingered myself thinking about you in the shower this morning. I’ve been thinking about you all day and then tonight...how mad you got...all I could think about was your knot.”

“Good girl,” he growls, his lips smiling into the skin of your throat. “Gonna come so deep in this pussy.”

“Jesus, fuck Sam-” He grabs a fist full of hair, snapping your neck back.

“Alpha,” he corrects you, his free hand curling around your jaw.

“Alpha.” You pant, trying to maintain the rhythm.

“You want me to fuck you?” He grits, teeth sinking into your shoulder. He yanks your head back even further so that your back is arched, leaving breasts on display right in front of his face.

“Yes.” Breath rattling in your throat you reach out, desperate for anything to hold you earthbound. Your fingers curl into the skin of his bicep, nails sinking into skin.

“Tell me.” Both his hands move to your hips, pulling you down onto his cock until the lips of your sex meet the short hair around his shaft. He doesn’t let you move, just keeps in you place stuffed full as you wiggle around searching relief.

“Sa-Alpha, please fuck me. Please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” He smirks. He moves one hand from your side to rub his thumb your clit, sliding in fast circles. You buck around as he holds you in place, working into a frenzy with his cock so deep it’s tapping your cervix when you squirm, drawing little shooting pains that mix with building pleasure. “I could make you come just like this, hold you down on my cock and rub you until you fall apart.”

“Please,” you’re begging, your voice an octave higher than normal. “Please fuck me.”

He releases his hold on you and taps your hip like he’s tapping you out of a fight. Lifting yourself off his dick you immediately roll over, pushing yourself up onto hands and knees. Both his hands curls around your side, fingers fanning out over your ribs. “Turn over, Omega. I wanna see you.”

God help him, he wants to fuck in the missionary position.

As soon as you’re on your back Sam’s settling between your legs, grabbing his own cock and pressing the swollen head into your pussy. In one thrust he’s buried to the hilt. He doesn’t waste a second before pulling out and sliding back in again, the sensitive head of his cock dragging along the clenching walls if your wonderful little cunt. “Keep your legs up,” hooking a hand under each thigh he bends your legs until your knees are pressed into his sides. He can feel the ring of muscle around the base of his dick thickening as he thrusts into you. “So good at taking my cock,” he praises, his hips make hollow smacks that echo off the walls of the bedroom as he pumps into you. He doesn’t say anything else, just listens to his own grunts, your breathy moans and the squishy, gooey sounds of sex that seem incredibly loud.

His knot swells quickly, you feel it pushing into your folds with every thrust. Grasping his ass you pull him closer, begging for release. “Please baby, I need it inside me. Need your knot Alpha.”

“You sure you can take it?” He lifts his head, a bead of sweat rolling down his nose and dropping onto your breast.

“Stop fucking teasing me and let me come.” You growl, bucking under him.

Sam gives you exactly what you’re asking for, he grinds his pelvis forward, his cock unrelenting as he forces his knot inside your pussy with a wet pop that triggers your orgasm. The pleasure is so great you want to hold it in, but there’s no holding back as the damn snaps and gluttonous satisfaction racks your entire body.

Sam keeps shoving his hips forward despite his inability to really move as he watches as your eyes rolls back in your skull and you start to shake. Your legs go stiff around him, breath starting and stopping. When you come it’s like watching someone die and come back to life.

Just as you’re calming down from the high Sam’s balls tighten and he comes with a grunt. He drops his face to your neck, teeth sinking into the ruined skin of his original bite. Rutting forward, he fucks you down into the mattress as he fills you so full of his spunk that it leaks around his knot, dripping down the crack of your ass.

“Fuck.” He groans, sucking at the fresh bite. He grinds into you once more before dropping his weight onto your hips. You’re both a mess of sweaty skin and twitching muscles and not much more.

“Ohmygod,” you whimper, clenching and unclenching your fists.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He lays open mouthed kissed across your collarbone, slow and steady. Then moves down as his lips press across the curve of your breasts.

“I forgive everything you’ve ever done.” A lazy, exhausted grin spreads over your face.

Sam chuckles, his breath hot as he sucks at the hollow of your neck. This is the unexpected part of sex with Sam, the part when your bodies are trapped together and your strong, rough Alpha worships you slow and sweet, like a love-sick schoolboy. He lifts himself up, resting on his forearms and gazing down at you like Galileo when he first saw the heavens. You never see these moments coming, just a peek at the tender affection that he doesn’t even know he’s capable of until it pours out of him. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You think so?” He’s fucked you in every position possible. Seen parts of your body that you didn’t know could experience pleasure clench and tremble, but none of that makes you blush the way you are now.

“You should see yourself.” His eyes roam over your face, as his fingers stroke the line of your jaw. “You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

You kiss him, squeezing your legs around his hips. “I’m yours.”

Sam is your other half. The feeling is so strange; it stretches throughout your whole body. It’s overwhelming, yet makes you feel complete. It has no bound nor length nor depth; it’s just absolute.

[amydancepants-peralta]

we won’t run - part two

leave all your love and your longing behind (you can’t carry it with you, if you want to survive)

“Okay, you’ve got my attention Jake” Amy responds, hand moving away from the cloth that covered her wound as she studies his expression carefully.

He winks, a smooth flicker of his eyelid that makes her heart do a tiny jump up into her throat.  So handsome.  

Stop it, Amy.  

His boots scuff against the platform as he tents his legs, leaning his forearm against his knees and sitting up a little straighter.  “Okay, so admittedly I probably should have remembered this a little earlier, but I think it’s fairly safe to say that a lot has happened in the past month or so for me to turn a little absent-minded.”

Her head nods in agreement.

“Back when Holt was King, he’d begun planning for a masquerade ball.  His anniversary with Lord Kevin was approaching, and he wanted to surprise him while he was away with the other scholars.”

Twisting her legs until they were tucked underneath her, Amy finds herself leaning forward in interest.

“And then after his .. illness,” Jake pauses, using air quotes to show his suspicions, “Pembroke decided it would still go ahead - only now it was going to be this lavish display of his supposedly brilliant ruling.  Which, let's face it, is all a facade, but you I both know that he just doesn’t care about that.”

Rolling her eyes as she nods again, Jake leans forward, beginning to describe his plan.

“That ball is supposed to happen at the end of the week.  All the extra food and wares he’s been stealing … they’ve got to be for that.  Every member of the elite will be there.  And if there’s anything I learned from guarding with someone like Pembroke, it’s that he will never pass up on the chance to show off his wealth.”

“Okay, and …?”

“I have this friend, her name is Gina.  She and I have known each other since childhood, right up until I left to join the Royal Guard.  She lives in Truglia with her beloved, Rosa, which is why I went there to hide after escaping the castle.  And I’m not exaggerating when I say that she’s the best in the province when it comes to forgery.”  He pauses, making sure he has Amy’s full attention (if only he knew that was always the case) before continuing.  “There’s not a doubt in my mind that she could make us invitations to the masquerade ball.  You and I … we could infiltrate the castle, right under their noses.”

A silence falls over the platform as the idea of getting dressed up and attending a ball and the palace with somebody like Jake washed over Amy.  It sounded like something out of a fantasy - a dream that for so many reasons could never become real.  She looks up at him, taking in the hopeful look that has crossed over his face, and finds herself replicating his smile.  There was just one thing.  “I … my family haven’t ever been to anything like that.  I don’t have a dress.  I don’t even know where I could find one.”

He regards her for a moment, head tipping slightly to the side.  “Is that your only reservation to my plan?”

She nods, not trusting herself to speak.

He smiles in triumph at her response, slapping his hands across his thighs.  “Then leave it with me.  Lady Amelia Santiago of Fumera, you and I going to a ball.”

“Sounds wonderful, Sir Jacob Peralta of Truglia.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa … what are full naming me for?”

“I know, I'm sorry I just - hey, wait!  You full named me first!”

He laughs, loud and clear, dodging her flailing fists with ease and having the decency to look contrite when she winces from jostling her wounded arm.  At some point, between midnight conversations and daydreams of bright smiles, this man had become her best friend.  And she found that it didn’t bother her in the least.

*

Charles toys with the edge of the dagger as he moves along the dungeon wall, fingers tracing every ripple of the stones that rose high above his head.  It’s the same activity that he had been doing for countless days in a row now:  wake, search, play Helpless Prisoner as the guards do their rounds, search, eat, sleep … wake up, and repeat.  His ankle, red from the constant scraping of rusty metal, throbs in protest as he stretches, forcing his body weight forwards to reach the higher edge of the wall.  The secret passageway that CJ mentioned (a time that he can longer count the days from, he’s noticed) has been playing on his mind, and he was growing more and more determined with every day to find its trigger. 

There was a steady drip of water in the corner that acted like an uninvited metronome, an unrelentingly monotonous beat that had become his new normal.  Shutting it out for a moment, he pushes himself higher still, hands shaking as he thrusts the weapon forwards until it acts as an extension of himself.  The sharp point scrapes the surface as his pulsing wrist reaches, the dull sound it creates a welcome distraction from the falling water.  He falls as quickly as he rose, an exasperated huff escaping his chest as his heels slap down.

It must be somewhere.

Overgrown fingernails scrape against his scalp when he runs his fingers through his hair, travelling down to tangle into the beard that time had spread onto his face.  He missed the warmth of sunlight, missed the comfort of his bed.  The memory of his lady love, Genevieve, was fading day by day.  And as much as he hated to admit it, there was always the possibility that Jake wouldn’t be able to come back to rescue him.  And so, he persisted.  

Resting his right hand against the cold stone, Charles shifts his weight to his left foot – and maybe his mind isn’t as clear as it should be, from so many days in this dungeon, but he swears he hears a click.  Holding his position, he pushes both limbs harder, and a section of the wall pulls back, scraping against the floor as it slides behind the rest of the stone revealing a dark corridor.  

Balling his hands into fists, Charles rubs his eyes carefully before opening them again, staring dazedly at the sight before him.  He’d done it.  He’d actually done it.

His feet begin moving before his brain can catch up and he trips, arms flailing as he struggles for purchase before slapping onto the floor with a thud.  

Right.  The chain.  

The wall scrapes against the stone again as it slides back into position, and his eyes dart back to imprint the earlier positioning of his hands and feet before his frazzled mind tries to forget.  He’s desperate to know more.  And there was always the danger that what lay beyond the secret passage was far more dangerous than what he had here.  

But the fear of staying still is greater than the fear of the unknown, and he must try.  

Elbows digging into the stone as he pushes himself up, Charles reaches for the dagger that had just slipped out of his fingers, twisting until his leg is bent at an angle he can reach.  Lock picking had always been a specialty of his - a fact that had obviously been overlooked by the new so-called King - and with a determined grin he begins to dig.

It was time to find a way home.

*

The blades of grass between Amy’s fingers begin to split as she twists them around her digits, skin turning pale as she tightens the curl, then rushing towards pink with every release.  After spending the morning training in Beatra, the cool ground was a welcome reprieve for her weary body.  If there was anything the last few days had taught her, it was that plotting to overthrow an unjust King was an exhaustive experience.  Her mind is too occupied with a myriad of thoughts for her to notice her visitors until they’re nearly in front of her, and she blinks in surprise at the sight of another woman with Jake.  Behind them, the sky darkens as heavy storm clouds begin to roll in.  

She has red hair; and a discerning look on her face, casting careful eyes over Amy as she follows Jake into their secret meeting place.  In her hands she carries a large package, wrapped up in hessian cloth, and Amy feels a twinge of excitement run through her at what she hopes lay beneath. 

It had been three days since Jake had told her about the masquerade ball, and with the night’s watch resulting in a plan firmly set in place they had spent every possible moment, day and night, working with their prospective villages: training their fighters, drawing up maps of the castle’s grounds, essentially doing whatever they could to prepare their people for any possibility.  

This of course meant that their nightly stakeouts had come to an end - and as Amy watches Jake walk towards her, she feels a pang in her heart at the realisation that she had missed him way more than she could have anticipated.  

He smiles at her as he draws closer, one hand raising in a gentle wave before reaching out to help her stand up from her comfortable spot amongst the grass.  His hand grips hers for a beat longer, and she can feel her face heat up as he pulls away.

“Ames, this is my friend Gina.” He gestures behind him at the mystery woman, who raises one eyebrow in response.  “She found a gown for you, as promised.”

“It’s fit for a princess.  And you, I guess.” 

He throws a glare at the other woman before turning back around.  “Ignore her.  The bark is worse than the bite, I promise.”

Too long for Tumblr ... you can find the rest here.

[irrelevantwriter]

Simon’s Advent Calendar Challenge Day 5: Christmas Movies

Characters: Simon x OFC

Rating: NSFW, Explicit 

Warnings: Smut (like…a lot), vague mentions of past sexual abuse, mentions of pornography, mentions of bodily fluids, unprotected sex, cursing, degrading Santa’s reputation (???)

Word Count: 7K

Summary: Carmen requested a special Christmas tradition from Simon, but things took a different turn when Simon mistakenly brought some XXX to the holidays. 

This is for the “Simon’s Advent Calendar Challenge” by @simons-thirst-squad. I chose the prompt “Christmas Movies” and I decided to take this down a very dirty path. I’ve never written Simon smut before, but I’ve been wanting to so here ya go. Hope its dirty enough for you coal getting, name on the naughty list, thirsty squad of Simon!

Also, the movie mentioned in this story is very real so I cannot take credit for the heinous title. 

 Happy Holidays!

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

It was late. The halls of the Sanctuary were empty and silent. She knew if she were anyone else she’d be escorted back to her room for being out after curfew, but she had obtained perks throughout her stay at the Sanctuary. And they were all thanks to a man named Simon.

Carmen turned the last corner and spotted the lone door at the end of the hallway. She was in a secluded part of the factory, but the location was not by accident. Only the best for Negan’s top executive. She made her booted footsteps muted as she slowly walked towards the closed door. There was a soft light emanating from the crack at the bottom. She sucked in a large breath and released it slowly. She was nervous.

She and Simon had become an item recently. When he’d found her out in the shell of what was left of the world she’d been a prisoner. She’d been a hostage among men of the most brutal caliber. Simon had saved her. And perhaps it was the savior complex that tethered her to him at first, but over time her fondness for him never waned. There’d been other suitors who’d approached her, their interest written all over their face and their words dripping with it. She’d never once been tempted to explore those options. She’d only ever felt safe and comfortable with the mustached man who’d bragged about gelato upon their first meeting. She smiled at the memory.

She fidgeted with her dark hair, thankful she had at least had the forethought to check her reflection in one of the mirrors from the communal bathrooms. Her hair ran down her back in natural waves, the frizz apparent after a long day. Her dark eyes were weary, much like everyone’s nowadays, but they shined with anticipation for what was to come. Her complexion was lighter now that the summer months were long gone, but her natural caramel color was still apparent. The dark circles under her eyes were visible, but had faded over time. She’d scrutinized her appearance with a critical eye, wishing she’d spent more of her points on makeup or clothing. Her red plaid button-up was wrinkled and smelled of baby powder. Her black jeans had a poor excuse for a patch over one knee, the shade of black not at all a match to the rest of the fabric. She looked presentable in the context of an apocalyptic world, but not for a meeting with a potential….what? What was Simon to her?

A soft thud sounded from the room just beyond the door and she slammed back into the current moment. She shook her head to rid her mind of anymore self-analytical thoughts and lifted a fist to knock. The knocks sounded small to her ears, but she knew Simon heard them. She could hear him shuffling to get to the door. She shifted back on her feet as the door swept open, revealing a far more relaxed looking Simon than she was used to seeing.

“Hey…” He was smiling wide, his teeth on display as he met her eyes. Carmen couldn’t help but to return the sentiment.

“Hey yourself,” She threw back, her gaze momentarily straying to the extra buttons undone on his grey shirt. His many belts were gone from his waist. His shirt was half untucked, his sleeves still rolled to his elbows. His boots were still on his feet, but she could tell the laces were loosened. He looked at ease and happy to see her.

“Come on in,” He ushered her inside, moving aside to allow her to slip passed him. 

Carmen let her eyes dance over the space. She’d never been to his room before. It was large and surprisingly inviting. There was a large bed, perhaps a queen-sized mattress, with a dark tan comforter and chocolate-colored sheets. The pillows were large and looked extremely fluffy. The bed was simply made, with a soft cream knit throw blanket at the end of the bed. It was unexpectedly warm and domestic for the man who was near the same level of dangerous as Negan. There was a small kitchenette with various cooking utensils and refrigerator. There was even a small dining table for two. A brown leather couch sat alongside one wall with a dresser and television set positioned across from it. A door in the far-left corner had Carmen deducing it was a bathroom. His set up was nice…a palace compared to what most had.

“Wow…this is amazing.” She stated in slight awe. She felt a pull towards his bed, but kept her feet firmly planted in the center of the room. It’d been far too long since she’d felt the plushness of a mattress. She slept on a cot in a room with two other women.

“Oh uh, thanks.” He sounded sheepish as he shut the door and turned to face her. His hands were shoved into his pockets and Carmen couldn’t help but notice how boyish he looked standing there. He had to be at least ten years older than her, but he looked remarkably juvenile…in a positive way. That was one thing she had liked about Simon from the beginning. He made her laugh, and he did so by projecting a child-like quality that was robbed from this world years earlier. She was sure his charm would’ve been anything but appealing before the turn, but now it reminded her that there was a world beyond the dead…one with human emotion still summering at the surface.

“You want something to drink?” He asked as he scratched at the back of his neck. He was nervous and the realization calmed Carmen’s own nerves. It’d been so long since she’d entertained the idea of being with a man. It’d been even longer since she’d acted on it. She was never good at projecting her interest to the opposite sex.

“Sure. Whatcha got?” She watched as he moved towards his refrigerator, his hulking frame looking ten times larger in the semi-confined space.

“I got beer. Home brew.” 

He was talking into the fridge as he bent down to pull two bottles from the shelves. Carmen unabashedly zeroed in on his ass. She’d glimpsed the sight a time or two before and was not disappointed. He straightened up and turned to face her, an eyebrow raised at her in question. She belatedly realized he had asked her a question and she had failed to supply an answer.

“Oh yeah, that’d be great.” She said with a slight laugh. He smiled and popped the two tops with ease only a master drinker could accomplish. His biceps were straining against his shirt and she once again tried to keep from staring too long. He made it to her in three large steps and she took the outstretched bottle from his calloused hand. Their skin met for the briefest of moments and she noted how much warmth he seemed to radiate.

“Cheers to the most wonderful time of the year,” Simon deadpanned. Carmen laughed, raising her bottle to clink with his. The liquid was bitter, but the aftertaste was pleasant. It reminded her of hot summer days and football games. It reminded her of her family. A twinge of sadness accompanied the memories, but she quickly pushed them away. That was another life, another time.

“Its good, right?” Simon asked, his boyish grin back on his mustached face. She nodded in agreement, wiping some of the brew from her lips. She belatedly noticed the table-top Christmas tree on his dresser. It was a cheap, plastic structure with colored lights and a hideous looking gold star on top. It was the kind you’d see inside of a dollar store before the turn. But in Simon’s room it looked almost delicate. 

“Feeling the Christmas spirit?” Carmen asked, her head tilting in the direction of the miniature aluminum tree. Simon’s gaze followed her movements and he smirked.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for the old man in red.” He joked, arms outstretched in confession.

Carmen laughed, the sound not unfamiliar to her ears when in his presence. Their eyes locked for a few seconds longer than necessary and she could feel her cheeks heat at the gesture. She thought about his visit to her earlier that day. She’d been cleaning up the makeshift school room after all the children had gone when he’d stopped by. He’d promised her a gift, though he wouldn’t say what it was. He’d asked her to come by later in the evening and she’d agreed without hesitation. She trusted him. And if she was being honest, she was hoping they’d take whatever they were doing to a more physical level.  

She cleared her throat, adverting her gaze to the only window in the space. The moon was full and its luminescent light bled into the room. “So…where’s my gift?” She teased. He laughed in response and she felt her body start to tingle at the sound.

“Ah, I see. Only here for the promise of free shit.” He feigned hurt as he placed a hand to his chest.

“You can’t promise a girl a gift and expect her to think about anything else.” She fired back, her eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Touché.” He smirked, nodding his head in defeat. She watched as he took a pull from his beer and turned away from her and towards the dresser. His shoulders were wide and they stretched the material of his already tight shirt as he moved.

“So, you remember what you asked me to find a few weeks ago?” He asked with his back still to her. He was rummaging through the top drawer and Carmen tried to peek over his shoulder, though the gesture was useless. He was much taller than her five-foot-two frame.  

“Ummm….” She trailed off, trying to place the conversation he’d been referring to. It clicked for her when she thought back to the interaction they’d had right after “Thanksgiving”. There was no way to be sure if they were correct on their timeline of celebrations, but the weather provided enough clues. Carmen had been making a list of things she needed for the classroom when Simon stopped by. They’d chatted and flirted with ease, a dance they were familiar with. He’d happily taken the list from her and assured her he’d try his hardest to collect the supplies. At the last item on the list he’d raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She’d hesitantly written down “Christmas movies” in delicate cursive. She’d been on the hunt for any kind of Christmas loot so that she could dress up the room for the kids and give them a piece of what they used to have or never did have. It was a frivolous request and she’d told Simon not to worry about it, but he was adamant he would try.

The memory was gone in an instant when a slamming of a drawer brought her back to the present. Simon turned back to her, a stack of DVDs and VHS tapes clutched in both of his large hands. Carmen could feel a wetness trying to reach her eyes, but she quickly banished the emotion. She didn’t know why the gesture had made her emotional, but she had a feeling it had everything to do with the man before her. 

“I told you I’d come through. I’m a man of my word.” Simon presented the tattered and beat up movies to her and Carmen set down her beer to inspect his finds. She knew her mouth was hanging open slightly and her already large eyes were widened in disbelief. It was a small favor, but nowadays a small favor could get someone killed. Simon didn’t have to do what he did, he didn’t have to put his life on the line for her, but he did…more than once.

“I can’t believe you actually found some.” She said in awe as she read each title, nostalgia hitting her like an ocean wave. Some of her favorites were among the stack. A Christmas Story, Rudolph, Miracle on 34th Street. There were a few she’d never heard of before but she was sure the children would love them. Carmen tore her gaze from the items and met Simon’s warm eyes. He was looking at her with an emotion she couldn’t define, but that she didn’t to want to look away from.

“Wasn’t hard to find. Just hope they still work.” He said as he grabbed a few from her hands to fiddle with. Carmen bit her lip, trying to contain the smile that was threatening to burst off her face. Her eyes zeroed in on a black box atop the dresser behind him and her eyes lit up. 

“Let’s find out.” She exclaimed excitedly as she blindly reached for a DVD from his hand and walked to the DVD/VHS combo on his dresser. “This thing works, right?” She belatedly asked as she searched for the power button. She heard Simon chuckle behind her and then felt his warmth as he walked up and stopped just short of pressing his front into her back. His hand came out to press the button she’d been searching for, his arm nearly locking her in against his hard body and the piece of furniture. His scent filled her nostrils. He smelled like the wind, beer, and a hint of something spicy, cologne most likely. She struggled not to her push her backside into him. The temptation was there and she could feel herself ready to topple over the edge.

The once black screen of the television came to life and she realized Simon had turned it on. They both stepped back, waiting as the machines came to life. Carmen grabbed the DVD case of the movie she’d chosen and furrowed her brows. The cover was badly weathered, the title not clearly visible. She looked closer and could see the faded picture of a man dressed as Santa Clause and what looked like a girl sitting in his lap. Suddenly, music pierced the silence and a grainy image of a snowy New York skyline appeared on screen. 

“I don’t think I know this one.” Carmen said as she and Simon looked on. He was nursing his beer, his arms cross across his wide chest. He looked deep in thought, as if he was trying to place the movie as well.

 “Yeah, me either.” He finally said. Carmen startled abruptly as a loud and exaggerated moan filled the air, the image of a busy street replaced with a busty blonde being thoroughly ravaged by a man dressed as Santa, equipped with white beard and glasses. The image was unexpected and disturbing. The sounds of two people fucking echoed off the walls and seemed to magnify by the second. Simon started to cough and sputter, and Carmen realized he had choked on a swig of his beer. They both seemed paralyzed, unable to make a move to end the debauchery. A title in bold gold letters swept across the screen as Santa continued to fuck his “naughty girl”.

Miracle on 69th Street

Clever, Carmen thought. Simon hurried to shut the movie off, first muting the television and then stopping the movie altogether. The room was filled with only the sound of their breathing as they struggled to find their bearings. It seemed neither one of them knew what to say or do. Carmen tentatively met Simon’s eyes and she was surprised by her reaction. She laughed. It started as a giggle, but continued until she was clutching her stomach. Simon joined in, unable to dismiss the complete ridiculousness of the situation.

“I cannot believe that just happened.” Carmen managed to say between bouts of laughter. Her eyes had overflowed with tears and this time she didn’t stop them from falling. She wiped at the moisture as Simon clutched his stomach in amusement.

“What the fuck did we just witness?” He asked, running a hand over his moustache to smooth down the wayward whiskers. His smile was displayed brightly, his teeth impeccably white for the end of the world.

Carmen shook her head as her laughter turned to giggles. “I think my childhood is ruined.” She stated ruefully. Her cheeks hurt from the laughter and she could feel that they were pink with embarrassment. She had watched porn on occasion before the turn, but she’d never taken part in watching with a boyfriend. The act always felt too intrusive. That especially felt true in that moment. With Simon. Alone in his room. But there was an undertone of lust beneath the surface. She couldn’t deny she felt it. And she had a feeling he did too.

They had both stopped laughing and were now trying not to stare at the other, but failing miserably. They caught each other’s eyes and the instant they met, Carmen made a decision. She took a step towards him and he seemed to read her mind. He matched her movements and soon they were so close she couldn’t tell where his breath began and hers ended.

“Simon,” She breathed out. She could feel his heated gaze on her full lips and she licked them in response. The warm cocoa of his eyes had shifted to black. The change made her shiver.

“Carmen,” He responded. His voice low and gravelly with desire. The air around them was brimming with sexual tension. It had never been this intense with them before, but Carmen knew it had always been there; just waiting to show itself and combust. She stepped closer to him, if at all possible. It made it difficult for them to meet gazes, but she didn’t care. She leaned forward onto her tiptoes and brought her mouth to his ear.

“Kiss me.” She demanded and she swore she heard him growl. The sound fanned the already ravenous fire inside her. Simon wasted no time and pulled her flush against him as he attacked her waiting mouth. They clashed in a mass of lips, tongues, and hands. Carmen clung to his shirt as his lips dominated hers, his tongue gliding with hers in the most erotic fashion. The man could fucking kiss. He tasted like beer and citrus. His moustache tickled her skin, but she paid no mind to the delicious burn it left behind. His hands gripped at her waist, but she needed more. She pushed her chest up and into his, hoping he picked up on her hint. His mouth left hers and trailed down her neck, his teeth nibbling gently at the flesh. She allowed him more access as she leaned away to expose more of her skin to his hungry mouth. His hands still remained at her hips and she impatiently grabbed his left hand and placed it near her breast.

“Carmen, wait…” Simon rasped. His hands were back on her hips and he took a step back to allow space between their overheated bodies. Both of their chests were rising with rapid breaths, their lips swollen and red from their previous activities.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice no longer as confident as it had been. She watched as Simon ran a hand over his graying hair. He seemed to be struggling with something. Doubt crept into Carmen’s mind and she immediately started to feel self-conscious.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, the gentleness in his tone surprising her.

“Sure about what?”

“This.” He gestured to the space between the two of them but she was still confused. He took notice and elaborated with a sigh. “You and I.” He clarified.

Carmen closed the gap between them, her hands now back on his chest. She felt his own hands encircle her waist and she relished the comfort it brought her. She met his stare from beneath her dark lashes and she smiled softly up at him. Simon had always been gentle with her. She’d seen it the minute he’d saved her from hell. As a high-ranking official in the Sanctuary, Simon was someone to take notice of. He was someone to either impress or stay out of his way. He was a severe man with an air about him that demanded respect. He was like Negan in that way. He could be just as intimidating as the man himself. Many feared Simon about as much as they feared the Sanctuary’s leader. But Carmen had never been the target of such behavior. Simon had seen what she’d been through. She’d never explained in detail, but he had an idea. The pieces weren’t hard to put together. And because of that he’d been softer with her. He’d gone out of his way to make her comfortable. And for a while she thought it was all out of pity, but the more time they spent together and the more she observed how he acted around everyone else had her believing otherwise.

“Simon,” She started, the confidence in her voice slowly creeping back in. She rubbed against him as she lifted herself to his lips. She could feel his fingers digging in to the flesh of her hips as she nibbled at his chin and neck. He was tense beneath her, but he wasn’t stopping her either. “I want this.” She whispered against his mouth. “I want you.” She added as her hands started to travel to the button of his pants.

She knew he wanted her. She’d felt his erection pressing into her while they’d been making out like teenagers. Carmen knew he was trying to show some restrain and be a gentleman. She knew he was trying to show compassion for what she’d experienced, and while she was grateful for that, she was also a grown woman. A grown woman with grown woman needs.

“Fuck, Carmen…” He trailed off as she sucked hungrily at his neck, leaving a mark. Her fingers untucked the rest of his shirt and hungrily groped at his chiseled stomach and chest. She hadn’t realized how starved she’d been for human touch, but now that she’d had a taste she didn’t think she’d ever get enough.

Simon finally responded to her ministrations and moved his hands under her flannel. His hands felt delicious along the curve of her back. They traveled up to her bra and stopped, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Their lips met again and a certainness was there that wasn’t present before. His hands finally gave her what she craved and skimmed along her ribs to grope her soft breasts. She whimpered into his mouth as he moved the cup of her bra away and made contact with her nipple. It immediately puckered at his touch. His hands felt so good, but she knew it could feel better.

“Too many clothes.” She pouted once they’d taken a breath for air. He seemed to agree and chuckled as he removed his hands from her shirt and helped her unbutton it. The garment was quickly discarded to the floor once all the buttons had been undone. Her breasts were heaving in the black bra they were encased in. Simon’s eyes devoured her and she fought not to cover herself. He seemed to sense her anxiousness and started working on the buttons of his own shirt. She watched as more and more of his tanned and toned skin was revealed. She’d felt his abs under her fingertips but seeing them was something completely different. He looked like he was carved out of stone. He threw his shirt to the ground and reached out for her. She obliged and stepped back into his embrace. The skin on skin contact felt heavenly. They tasted each other again as Simon’s hands moved to the clasp on the back of her bra. The material loosened beneath his touch and she allowed it to fall away from her body.

“God, you are gorgeous.”

 His words and the way he was looking at her made a blush color her cheeks and her thighs clench together in want. She could feel her arousal seep into her underwear, the feeling uncomfortable but welcomed. Carmen felt her lust skyrocket at the look in his eye. She gazed downward and noticed the obvious bulge beneath his pants. She didn’t want to go slow anymore. She needed to feel all of him and soon. She moved her fingers to the button of her jeans and undid them while simultaneously kicking off her boots. She shimmied the denim over her shapely hips and down her thighs until they were low enough that she could kick them off. Simon watched her curiously, but copied her actions and undressed down to his black boxer briefs. Carmen pulled him to her and all but attacked him with her mouth. They explored each other as hands groped and squeezed in the name of desire. She felt Simon start to shift them back towards his bed and Carmen allowed him to do so. They stopped once her legs met the edge of the mattress.

Carmen’s bare back met the softness of his comforter as Simon held himself above her. He pressed his clothed cock into her damp center, making her moan out wantonly. He did it again and she awarded him with a similar response. Her nails bit into the muscles of his back and shoulders as he shifted down her body, his moustache providing a stimulating friction she wanted more of. His fingers hooked into the delicate lace of her black panties, but he didn’t remove them immediately. Her eyes found his and she could see the silent question in them. She nodded, biting her lip and squeezing her thighs together. He grinned at the invitation and her blatant display of enticement. She lifted her hips for him as he began to move the material away from her body, her desperation for him now on full display. She watched as he brought her panties to his nose and breathed in. The action immediately made her legs close and her hips swivel against the mattress.

“No, baby…keep those magnificent thighs open.” Simon chided, prying her legs back open with his hands. He knelt on the floor and pulled her closer to the edge by her ankles, causing a small yelp to escape her lips. She giggled as he licked his lips and inched his way closer to her aching pussy. He was eyeing her like prey and she ate it up. She felt a thick finger glide across her swollen lips, gathering the wetness that had spilled over. Carmen briefly felt embarrassed by her body’s reaction, but Simon’s words halted those feelings immediately.

“I cannot wait to taste that sweet syrup.”

Carmen moaned and gripped the bedding as he teased her entrance. Her hips pushed against his finger, but he placed a palm against her stomach to halt her movements. She was growing frustrated with his teasing and she was about to tell him such when he licked a long strip against her flesh. He left no area untouched as he feasted on her. Carmen writhed and moaned, lights flashing behind her eyelids as she gave herself over to the sensations. His mouth felt delicious on her bare skin and the coarseness of his facial hair stung her flesh in the most erotic way possible.

“Shit,” She cursed as the coil within her started to unravel. Simon’s pace increased and she squeezed his head between her thighs when he thrust his finger inside her. She unabashedly grabbed his head and moved against him as her orgasm started to rip through her. Her whole body contracted and she felt suspended in space. She had no idea what sounds were leaving her mouth, but she didn’t care. She felt a rush of arousal seep out of her and right into Simon’s eager mouth. Her pussy continued to spasm as Simon relentlessly consumed her. She whimpered and gently pushed him away as all feeling came back to her body and the sensation of him became too much. He laughed, but relented. She watched with heavily lidded eyes as he wiped his glistening mouth and moustache with the back of his hand. He winked at her as he moved a hand into his briefs and began to touch himself. Carmen nearly rolled her eyes at the sight and her thighs immediately clenched. She thought her body couldn’t take anymore, but Simon’s actions were revving her up for more.

She sat up on her knees, her inner thighs slick with saliva and her own juices. She reached out for him and he obliged, moving closer to her. Carmen licked and nibbled at his solid chest, her small hands moving to the waistband of his briefs and pulling them down and over his cock. He was long and thick and pulsating with need. Her eyes took in the image before her. Simon had his head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure while his hands tangled themselves in her dark tresses. Carmen let her lips trail down his body until she was able to take him into her mouth. The grip on her hair tightened as she suctioned her lips around him, forgoing any teasing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He chanted above her as she used one of her hands to pump him in time with her mouth and tongue. She almost couldn’t fit him all the way in, but she relaxed her throat and swallowed him. Simon growled above her and she instantly felt his body go rigid. She mimicked her movements, wanting to taste more of him. A hint of salt touched her tongue and she knew he was getting close. She pulled away from him to catch her breath and was rewarded with a bead of precum at his tip. She licked at it hungrily.

“Carmen…you have to stop…I’m gonna cum.” His words were breathy and tense, warning her of his impending orgasm. As much as she wanted him to come undone in her mouth, she needed him inside her.

She released him and he hungrily kissed her, both of his hands encasing her face as he moved her onto her back. His solid form covered her softer one as they lay in a mass of limbs. Without the barrier of clothes, they rutted against each other in animalistic passion. Carmen widened her legs to accommodate Simon’s large form. She could feel his dick at her entrance and she thrusted her hips upward to welcome him. Simon pulled himself away from her neck and held himself above her while he lined himself up with her slit.

“Ready?” He asked, breathless and with a touch of tenderness. Carmen rolled her hips against his and smirked at the grimace that painted his features. “That a yes?” He chuckled as he moved a hand between their bodies to grasp ahold of himself.

“That’s a hell yes…” She whispered, voice thick with lust. Carmen gasped as he finally plunged inside her. The sensation was all consuming. There was a slight burn, the fullness she felt bordering on uncomfortable. But she didn’t tell him to stop. Her whole body tensed and she knew Simon could feel it. He cursed above her, his chest heaving against her own.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, though she could tell it would take everything in him to do so, but he would if she said. He would stop in an instant if he knew she didn’t want to continue. But despite the slight pain, Carmen wanted it…and then some.

“No, don’t stop…” She gasped out as he shifted above her. Her body was starting to accommodate him and the burn was ebbing. She was vaguely aware of her tense limbs and she forced herself to go lax.

“You gotta relax, baby…” Simon softly whispered as he began to pull out and dive back in. Carmen nodded and focused on the pleasure, the warmth of Simon’s body, and his voice. “You feel so good, Carmen…so tight and wet.” His words were doing the trick and her legs widened as he picked up his pace. Carmen moaned as he started to go faster, his rough hand massaging one of her breasts. She wrapped her legs around his lower back, encouraging him. His mouth was on her neck, sucking and licking her flesh until it was sore and bruised. She craved more. Carmen clenched her inner walls around him, nearly suffocating his girth. Simon’s hips stuttered and his head fell into the crook of her neck at the action. “Fuck…” He growled against her. “Do that again.” He requested breathlessly. Carmen happily obliged, pushing her hips up to meet his as she locked him inside her depths. “Goddamn, that feels heavenly…”

Carmen bit her bottom lip and moaned directly into Simon’s ear as he stayed unmoving above her. She began to fuck herself on his dick, thrusting her hips so that he slid against her slick walls. Simon’s teeth bit into her shoulder at the action and she relished the power she held in that moment. The room was filled with their heavy breathing and the vulgar sounds of their bodies meeting. There wasn’t a headboard to bang against the wall, but if there was Carmen was sure it’d alert others of their activities. 

Simon’s hips came down on hers to halt her movements and she whimpered as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he took over. “Harder.” She moaned out and he wasted no time in giving in to her request. His hips thrusted with a brutal force, one that made her stomach start to tingle with the familiar sensation. Whimpers and moans of mindless pleasure started to pour from her lips as he pounded her into his mattress. Her nails dug into his back and she could hear him hiss above her at the gesture. Carmen was on the cusp of falling into oblivion. “On top…I wanna be on top.” She breathed out. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, the lust evident.

Simon stopped and looked down at her, his forehead shimmering with a sheen of sweat. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but when he met her dark eyes the lines smoothed out. He smiled down at her with a hint of surprise in her brazenness. “Your wish is my command.”

Unexpectedly, he rolled them so that he was on his back and she was straddling his hips, all while he was still encased inside her. Carmen moaned long and slow at the shift in positions, testing the new feelings of pleasure by rotating her hips slowly. She felt Simon’s hands on her hips and ass, the contrast of his rough skin against her soft flesh made her spine tingle. She threw her head back and let Simon have full access to her breasts as they bounced above him. He twisted her nipples with his fingers and then grasped at the fleshy mounds hungrily. Carmen grasped both of his wrists in her hands, not stopping him but urging him to continue.

“Shit, you look fucking amazing like this.” Simon growled as she continued to ride him. Her pace increased and she felt him shift below her. She suddenly felt his chest against hers and realized he’d moved upright to lean against the wall so that they were nearly face to face. His hands grasped her ass, encouraging her movements. Carmen surrendered to the sensations, moaning Simon’s name as he attacked her breasts with is mouth.

“I’m close…so close.” Carmen warned, hips now rutting in a frantic manner. He captured her lips with his own while his hand ventured down her body and to the place they were joined. He found her clit and massaged the bundle of nerves in an unforgiving manner. Carmen cried out and felt her body tense around him. Her eyes squeezed shut as she pulled Simon against her in what she was sure was a painfully tight embrace as she came undone. Her body rocked and shivered with tremors, the blood rushing to her ears. She could feel her release coating Simon’s cock and their thighs, the surge of pleasure crashing over her like a wave. It was intense and almost too powerful for her body. She could feel Simon’s hands all over. From her hips to her naked back, she could feel his fingertips dance across her sweaty skin. He tangled them into the ends of her hair as reality came back into the forefront and the fog started to clear.

They stayed like that for a moment. Her with her arms entangled in his hair and him mirroring her embrace, not an inch of space available between them. She could still feel him pulsing inside her and she couldn’t help but to squeeze him in response. He groaned into her ear and took that as his cue to start moving. He switched their positions so that Carmen now lay spread out below him. She still felt the aftershocks of her orgasm, the haze still clearing from her mind as Simon began to thrust into her now flooded pussy. He remained upright, watching his dick disappear into her body. He was coated with a mixture of their juices and Carmen could see the hunger in his eyes as his pace increased. His muscles flexed and the vein in his neck protruded as he thrust, his hands holding her legs open at an obscene angle.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He panted as he jackhammered into her. Carmen moaned at the statement, wanting to see and feel him lose control. She let him do as he pleased, her limbs feeling too heavy to move. She could feel the already unraveled coil ready to release again and she shook her head at the realization. Her body was too sensitive. She couldn’t do another. But Simon could read her body and he doubled his efforts. A finger landed on her clit and she whimpered in response. “Cum with me, baby…I wanna see you.” Simon demanded and she found herself doing as he said.

She felt his body go rigid as his hands gripped her thighs painfully. He went still as he emptied hot streams of cum inside her quaking walls. Carmen cried out at the smaller orgasm his own triggered. Her hands knotted into the bedsheets above her while her back arched off the bed. He pulled out of her mid-release and let the remaining streaks of his cum fall onto her pussy and stomach. Carmen welcomed the blatant display of marking his territory. He collapsed on top of her, uncaring about the mess between them. She cradled him, letting her fingertips stroke his back as they both caught their breaths.

“Holy shit, that was fucking amazing.”

Carmen couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from her throat. As a result, their bodies shook with the movement and his now flaccid dick rubbed against her thoroughly fucked sex. They both groaned at the contact, but reveled in the pleasure it still provided to their overused bodies. Simon lifted himself up and onto his forearms so that he could look down at her. She met his gaze through heavy lids and despite everything, she felt a blush heat her cheeks. His fingers moved strands of hair from her face and gently caressed her neck, and she knew those were the places his mouth had marked her. 

“You okay?” He asked, the gentleness back in his voice. Carmen smiled and captured his hand in her own against her neck.

“Better than okay.” She answered, wrapping her leg around his back to bring him towards her awaiting lips. He smiled and met her lips in a lazy, post-coital kiss.

Ten minutes later they had finally had enough strength to move and clean themselves up before getting situated under the covers. Carmen sat nestled into the crook of Simon’s arm as he sat against the wall, spooning gelato from a carton into her mouth and his.

 “We should probably check the other movies before we let the kids watch them.” He quipped, letting her lips wrap around the spoon he’d held in front of her.

Carmen giggled and nodded as the cold dessert slid down her throat. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” She sat up and turned to face him, holding the sheet to her chest in unnecessary modesty. She found his eyes and let her face turn serious. Simon immediately noticed and sobered. “Thank you.” At his confused gaze, she elaborated. “For everything…for saving me, for looking out for me, for getting those movies, for the mind-blowing sex…” At the last part, Simon almost looked sheepish and she grinned.

“It was my pleasure.” He said with a knowing smirk and a comical wag of his thick brows. She laughed and made a grab for the spoon sitting in the melting carton of gelato. “But really Carmen,” At the sound of his voice she met his eyes and found he was back to being serious. “I did those things because I care about you…have for a while.”

“Me too.” Carmen smiled shyly and grabbed the spoon again, scooping some of the sweet mixture onto the utensil. She brought it to Simon’s lips this time and he smiled before taking it into his mouth. His moustache had remnants of the gelato and she leaned forward to kiss it away. His hand cradled the back of her head as they got lost in each other.

When they finally pulled apart, Carmen placed herself into his lap and took over the feeding.  She could feel him harden beneath her and she rubbed herself against him. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Already?” He asked mischievously.

Carmen leaned forward to smear gelato on Simon’s neck and then let her tongue clean it away. She felt more than heard his breathing hitch as his hands gripped her hips. “I should ask you the same question.” She teased as she let his cock slip between her wet lips. 

“I told you, I gotta soft spot for the man in red.” He retorted with a smirk and she burst into a fit of giggles. The gelato was long forgotten as they set out to prove that it was in fact the most wonderful time of the year.

[openmouthwideeye]

Pumpkin and fall prompts! Either 11, 12 or 14 for Rosvolio or JB. :)

I’m pretty sure you stopped expecting this a long time ago, but here it is! Only three months late. I took many liberties with the prompt, whoops.

Prompt: I kind of told my family that we were dating and they kind of expect us to show up to our family’s annual Halloween holiday party.  Oh, yeah, I also kind of told them that you knew how to make a special dish, and they kind of want you to bring it.  Bonus: “I said it needs a dash of salt, not sass.”

Thanks to @queenofchildren for reminding me that not all fic needs to be a 40K slowburn

“I said it needs a dash of salt, Montague, not sass.”

“You’re bringing enough salt to this baking fiasco, Capulet. I don’t think we need any more.”

“Oh, because you’re all sugar and spice,” Rosaline muttered, folding a ripple of melted cocoa into the batter. “Look, I’ve baked this cake every year since I was six. I know what I’m doing.”

“Trying to break our cousins up?” At her unimpressed look, he backtracked. “Not that I’d blame you. A three-week relationship isn’t worth braving the annual Montague holiday shitshow.”

“Is anything?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Family hell? Now that she could relate to. Her frustration softened along with her voice. “Salt?”

Benvolio bent to scan the rack on the counter. “Are you sure you’ve made this before? Even I know it ruins a recipe to mix up the salt and sugar. Or have you never seen a sitcom?”

“I think I’m stuck in one.”

Sidestepping him, she ran her fingers over the spices, searching rows of uniform wooden canisters with hand-carved labels. If anyone named “Montague” had touched so much as a jar, she’d eat the disaster of a cake Juliet had baked before calling in reinforcements.

Spotting the salt the same second she did, Benvolio snatched it up.

“Seriously?” Resisting the urge to plant her hands on her hips, she held out her hand, palm up.

He ignored her, prying off the lid and turning the salt cellar this way and that to catch the light.

“Fine, keep it.” She stepped back to the bowl and seized the spoon, not entirely sure if she wanted to work out her frustrations on the batter or smack him in the face with it. “But you get to explain to your cousin why Juliet doesn’t have the famous Capulet chocolate cake he roped her into baking.”

“Hey, get your story straight. She offered.”

“Because he’d already told his dad about it.”

Benvolio fell back against the counter. “This is stupid. It doesn’t matter you bake a cake or not; my uncle’s going to complain about it either way.”

That she believed. From the snippets of gossip she’d heard, his uncle was about as hard to please as hers and twice as rude about it. Which explained why she was stuck in a stranger’s house baking a secret family recipe with the help of an obnoxiously hot (and flat out obnoxious) guy she’d met exactly twice.

Squaring her shoulders, she resolved to wrestle the salt away from him if need be, but he was a step ahead of her. Pinching a generous portion of salt, he met her eyes and dropped it deliberately into the bowl.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Capulet,” he said with a smile, as if she’d actually meant it.

Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling, but her irritation softened like butter in a hot pan. He set the salt cellar by the mixing bowl, and she hastened to drop another pinch of it into the batter.

“Oh, come on!” Planting his elbows on the counter, Benvolio leaned back, measuring first her expression, then the salt shimmering in the bowl. “Is there something wrong with my salting skills, or do you just have to do everything yourself?”

“I said a dash, not a pinch.”

“And there’s a difference?” he asked skeptically.

Amusement tugged at her lips, warming the wry look she aimed up at him. “There’s a difference.”

“Hmm.”

Remarkably he didn’t argue, just leaned forward to watch her fold the crystals into the chocolate. When she hoisted up the bowl, balancing the base on her ribs, he caught an edge, tilting it so she could scoop batter into the mold.

“Okay, I can’t bake,” he admitted finally as she jiggled the cake form to settle the batter, “but you’ll be glad I’m around when it’s time to decorate.”

She glanced up at him. Maybe he wasn’t just hanging around to get in her way. “I didn’t realize you had a talent for piping.”

“You’ll find I have a lot of talents.”

Her eyes narrowed at the sudden resurgence of his swagger. Somehow, over the last hour or so, she’d started to learn his tells. “And cake decorating is one of them?”

He opened the oven door for her, waiting until she slid the cake onto the rack to admit, “… not exactly. But I’ve been decorating canvases my whole life. It won’t be hard to figure out.”

“Uh huh. So you’ve never decorated a cake before, but I’m supposed to be grateful for your help?” She made to stand, but gravity took his side; she unbalanced and Benvolio caught her arm, pulling her to her feet.

“Yes, you should.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself. “You’ll find I have impeccable taste.” And maybe it was their sudden proximity messing with her head, but she thought his eyes flickered toward her mouth.

Turning abruptly, she reached up to set the timer on the microwave. The high-pitched tones cleared her head, helping her refocus on the task at hand, namely, making sure Juliet survived her first meal with a room full of Montagues.

Glancing around the messy kitchen, Rosaline busied herself stacking unused measuring cups, dusting flour and cocoa off the bottoms. Benvolio reached over her shoulder to grab the measuring spoons, nestled together on their ring, and deposited them into the dirty mixing bowl with a faint clatter of plastic. The heat of the oven hit her all at once as he lingered, gathering up the whisk and a handful of other tools she hadn’t even used.

Rosaline cleared her throat. “It enhances the flavor.”

“What?”

“The salt. It makes the cake taste sweeter.”

He hummed, considering. “That explains a lot about you, doesn’t it, Capulet?”

It took her a minute to work out his meaning. When she did, she spun, already frowning over the near-permanent smirk she was sure to find smeared across his face. And there it was, soft and smug and faintly challenging. But his eyes simmered with a curiosity that quickly boiled over into wanting. This time, it was impossible to ignore his eyes on her lips.

“But you did just prove the danger of making assumptions.”

The air felt too warm all of a sudden, thick and heady with the sweetness of the cake. She scoffed at him, but it was too soft, almost breathy.

“With a line like that, assumptions are all you’ll ever make.” Her body swayed forward, betraying her, but Benvolio had already drawn back. Far from the bravado he usually armored himself in, his expression had unfolded into something open, almost unsure.

“Okay. How about this? I like being your sous-chef, Capulet.”

“Better,” she allowed, swallowing, because somehow her heart had made its way into her throat.

And then she was kissing him, and the only coherent thought she managed to form was, oh. She felt like the batter in the oven, soft and warm, bubbling from within. Expanding into a new state of being. He took his time coaxing her lips open, like she was something sweet after all, worth savoring. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, stoking the sensations that shimmered around her like heat haze in an open oven. Her hands kneaded the nape of his neck, sifting up through his hair.

Every touch felt painstakingly slow, like they’d taken a desperate encounter in the back of a bar and put it under a spotlight, making every second stretch endlessly under the heat of the beam. Not intimate, not quite, but absolutely maddening.

His hand fell from her face, fingers skimming down her neck, heading somewhere. She felt behind her for the counter, trying to climb it with a planted palm and a heel wedged onto a cabinet door. She felt a twinge of regret as his hand abandoned its journey, but it vanished when he hooked it around her thigh instead, hoisting her up. She slid onto the counter, already angled forward to take advantage of her new height, when something collided with her tailbone, clattering as it upended on the counter. She jerked away on instinct, relying on the solid mass of his body to hold her upright, and smacked her head on an upper cabinet. Her butt slipped off the granite and Rosaline skidded down his body, groaning, to thud onto the floor.

“Are—you—okay?”

“Fine,” she gasped.

“You sure?” He drew back, hand dipping into her hair to probe the back of her head. She chased his lips, mirroring his pose. Benvolio groaned against her mouth, held there by her insistent hand on his neck. He turned his head again, lips skating over her jaw, her ear. She shivered as his fingers rummaged through her hair.

“Seriously, Montague, it’s just a bump.”

“You could have a concussion.”

She dipped in for another taste of him, chasing that last bite, and then gave up, letting him turn her head as if he could see through to her scalp.

“I don’t want you seeing stars because of me, okay? You hate me enough already.”

She waited for the wink, the grin, the waggle of eyebrows, but his eyes were earnest and concerned. Only then did she laugh.

“A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Eyebrows climbed his flushed forehead, racing a self-satisfied grin, and h o l y hell, she was flirting with him.

A throat cleared, startling them apart.

“Benvolio,” said an unfamiliar man, disdain apparent beneath a thin veneer of resignation she recognized from her own holiday get-togethers, “how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t care who you screw, just don’t embarrass me with it at family gatherings.”

Benvolio went stiff. Rosaline bristled with outrage.

“Screw?” they said in unison as if they didn’t have chocolate and flour coating their clothes in some fairly compromising places.

The man went on as if they hadn’t spoken. “The staff already rearranged the table for Romeo’s new girlfriend; I won’t ask them to do the same for some girl you snuck in through the kitchen.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Rosaline protested at the same time Benvolio said hotly, “She’s not just some girl.”

The man paused, evaluating.

Benvolio straightened, stepping forward as if to introduce them, and somehow managing to half hide her from view, a happy accident she wasn’t about to complain about. “Uncle, this is Rosaline. Juliet’s cousin.”

“I was just leaving,” she added acidly.

“Rosaline … Capulet, is it?” The oven timer chimed as if to applaud the man for figuring it out. He nodded to himself. “Now that I think of it, the Grimaldis said their son can’t make it. I’ll have Maurizio rearrange the place settings.”

Rosaline made no effort to sweeten her tone. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said—”

“That you were leaving,” he interjected with the kind of smile that said he knew he was making trouble and relished it. “That’s very kind of you, but don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all. Dinner’s in an hour. I expect you both to be there.”

His gaze bypassed the dishes, upended on the counter, and fixed on their clothes, which hadn’t been dinner appropriate even before becoming victims of curious hands.

“Clean up first.”

And he turned on his heel and disappeared.

Rosaline fell against the counter, rendered speechless by his sheer audacity.

Benvolio cleared his throat, turning toward her. Resignation had dulled the curious wonder in his eyes, stoking her fury. But before she could decide how, exactly, to make his uncle pay for being such a royal asshole, his expression came alive again. He gave her a smile that might be smarmy if it weren’t brimming so unabashedly with hope.

“So, Capulet … want to be my date to the annual Montague holiday shitshow?”

[jouissezduprintemps]

An ANBU Tradition

Rating: T Words: 3489 Fandom: Naruto Summary: Itachi Uchiha joins the ANBU under Kakashi Hatake's command. There's a certain tradition the ANBU has for new recruits, and Itachi is no exception.

Kakashi lay on his back, one knee bent up while the other extended. It was long past the time when he should have replaced his twin mattress with something that would actually accommodate his height. The only way he could fit was by sleeping with his knees bent; stretched out as he was, his head could either rest on his pillow or his ankle could hang off the foot of the bed. He opted for the latter. He held his newest copy of Icha Icha languidly above his exposed face, and his damp, white hair was brushed awkwardly back out of his eyes.

The laundry machine hummed in the background, keeping a steady rhythm as it spun nearly every article of clothing that the young man had to his name. The mission assigned to his ANBU squad took them weeks to complete, and his already spartan apartment was even more barren with its lack of basic necessities upon his return. Even so, the amenities that remained were a godsend for his right-hand man.

Without looking away from the pages of his book, he could see his towel-clad companion standing in front of the chest of drawers. Before he could ask, Kakashi instructed him, “Just take whatever’s there that’ll fit.”

Even if Kakashi had kept his clothing from three years ago, his broad shoulders and tall frame had always left Tenzo in his shadow. “Don’t you have anything that’s not made for a giant?” he asked snidely as he pawed through the drawers one-by-one.

“You’re the one who decided to wash everything you own,” Kakashi drawled as he turned the page. “Make do.”

Much to Tenzo’s relief, Kakashi hadn’t taken the only pair of drawstring sweatpants. The fabric bunched awkwardly at his hips as he pulled the strings to fit, tying them into a lazy knot. The legs were too long, and he had to be careful not to trip himself on the excess. As he dug for a shirt, he took his towel in one hand and began to dry his long, brown hair. He wanted to complain that he didn’t have ready access to laundry services or a private shower, but he was worried that Kakashi, out of petty spite, would bar him from using the ones in his apartment until he apologized. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The smallest shirt Tenzo found hung to the middle of his thighs, and if he held his arms out to his sides, it looked like a black bag instead of proper clothing. Unable to help himself, he frowned. “I look like a child.”

“Sixteen going on six,” Kakashi smirked as he snapped his book shut, a strange sight without his mask. He righted himself on his bed, crossing his legs in front of him.

Tenzo balled up his towel and threw it across the room, and Kakashi caught it with ease. With a toss, it landed in the empty laundry basket. Sarcasically, he began, “Thank you, Kakashi. You’re doing my laundry and let me use your shower, and you even called in some dinner. You’re the best captain ever!”

Tenzo made a lewd gesture, but there was playfulness in his eyes. “Fuck you, Senpai.”

To his surprise, Kakashi laughed. There was no way Kakashi could take him seriously dressed the way he was. Tenzo growled in indignation. He reached behind him and grabbed something from the dresser, throwing it at the white-haired man. “And put a damned shirt on, Hatake.”

Kakashi’s laughter faded into a chuckle that wouldn’t go away, even as he did as he was told. Tenzo had a feeling that Kakashi made those infuriating smirks and grins just as often on any other day, but that the expressions were hidden by his mask. He snatched the file folder of the kitchen table and walked over to Kakashi, taking a seat facing him on the mattress. He held it up and smacked his captain’s forehead with it. “We have work to do.”

Kakashi took the file and opened it. While he examined the pages, he set an elbow on his knee and bent over, his chin in the palm of his hand as he read. “Itachi Uchiha…” he mused, unclipping the child’s photograph from the file. “He’s young.”

“Not for our squad,” Tenzo corrected as he examined the score card. “He’s ten. Graduated to genin at six, like I did, and just a year after you. You joined at twelve, right? And Danzo had me in the foundation since I was five. It only looks that way because you’re old.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Exactly.”

Kakashi took a swing at Tenzo’s head, which he narrowly dodged.  “Lord Hiruzen appointed him. Good. We need to keep him away from Danzo until Itachi can manage on his own.” He traded Itachi’s photograph for the card Tenzo held. “He’s strong. From the looks of it, he should be able to keep up rather well. We won’t know for sure until we see him in action, though.”

Tenzo looked up and over, large eyes narrowing in suspicion. “No.”

The devilish grin Kakashi gave sent a chill down his spine, a thousand times more powerful now that it could be seen. “It’s a tradition.”

“Absolutely not, Senpai. Yugao still has nightmares, and she’s fifteen. Lord Hiruzen would kill you!”

“Us.”

“What?”

“Us. You don’t think I can pull this off on my own, do you?”

Tenzo drug his palm down the side of his face. “Kakashi…”

Clearly, this approach wasn’t working. Slyly, he reached out and grabbed Tenzo’s wrist, moving it away from his face. With his best puppy-dog eyes – which he’d long since perfected – he only had to say one word. “Please?”

Using both hands to cover his reddened face, Tenzo groaned, his head falling back against the wall in agony. “God, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Kakashi retorted flatly as he thumbed through the rest of the file.

The standard-issue ANBU mask covered the dark circles under Tenzo’s eyes, much to his relief. He’d been kept up far too late while Kakashi made his plan, and his captain refused to let him doze off until he understood it thoroughly. By the time he was finally allowed to sleep, he’d managed to get in about four hours before Kakashi woke him by going about his morning routine. His senpai’s late-to-bed, early-to-rise habits were excruciating, but at least Kakashi decided to sleep that night rather than staying up until dawn.

If he was lucky, this would all be over soon, and he could get some much-needed rest. He stifled a yawn, refusing to show weakness around the rest of the team. Absentmindedly, he wondered if he could put down literal roots to keep himself standing.

To his displeasure, when Kakashi informed their teammates of his plan, they had all readily agreed. Even Yugao, who had suffered just a few months ago, gave her support. Ko and Yoji delighted in the ANBU tradition, and so Tenzo’s voice of protest was lost. All the same, there was a part of him that looked forward to it just as much as the others, even though he’d never admit it. He just wished he could hide it from Kakashi’s keen perception.

When their newest comrade stepped through the door, Tenzo wondered if he’d looked just as comical in his ANBU gear when he was that age. It fit Itachi, but the sight of the small, gaunt child in black ops armor was ironic. In his hand, he held a small mask, one he had no doubt just been issued. Impressively, the Uchiha carried himself without fear, facing his seniors like equals.

Kakashi stepped forward from the front of the group, removing his patterned ANBU mask. He held it in his left hand as he placed his hands on his hips, looking down at his new charge. He watched as Itachi followed propriety and bowed, introducing himself in a yet-unbroken voice. “My name is Itachi Uchiha.”

Only when he stood back up did Kakashi speak. “I’m your new captain, Kakashi. Welcome to Team Ro.” He placed his mask back on his face as he continued. “It’s a tradition here at the ANBU for new members to go on a mission with their team on the first day. Sink or swim, if you will. If you don’t think you can keep up, leave now.”

Itachi looked his captain in the eye, emotionless, and placed his mask on his face. Beneath his own, Kakashi smiled.

“Good. Yugao, brief him.”

The single woman of the group stepped forward, a map in her hands. She spread it out on the table and drew a gloved finger across the parchment as she spoke. “We’ve been assigned to stop a squad of Suna ninja from crossing the border. They seem to be a small group of scouts, but we can’t risk letting them get any information on our territory.” She looked up from the map to catch Itachi’s eye. “The third war might be over, but we can’t let our guard down.”

“Understood.” Itachi nodded, the perfect little soldier.

“Now that we have an even number, we can operate with pairs.” Kakashi began to gesture to members of the team. “Yugao, I want you with Itachi. You’ll be our sensory unit. Ko and Yogi, you’ll be the decoy team. Tenzo’s with me for acquisition.

Ko and Yogi, I want you to forge a straight path, passing the shrine. Tenzo and I will take a wide berth and block any retreat into the sand. Yugao and Itachi, you’ll come in from the side.”

“Got it!” the team chorused.

Yugao was pleasantly surprised by Itachi’s speed. Despite his small stature, he was able to keep her pace, never faltering. So far, so good. She didn’t say as much, withholding any praise until the end of the mission. It was common for new recruits to become overconfident, and overconfident ninja made mistakes.

There was a twinge on the edge of her consciousness, most likely emanating from foreign chakra. She held her path, giving Itachi less than a second to pick it up for himself. Really, she should have expected nothing less from one of Lord Hiruzen’s hand-picked agents.

“Here.” Itachi veered to the east without breaking his stride. He didn’t know what the strange chakra signature meant, but it was too foreign to belong to something of the forest. He’d been on enough scouting practice missions with his father to know he’d found something.

Yugao turned and headed in the same direction, pleased that he’d passed her test. Maybe the kid would make it to his next birthday, after all.

The sound of metal hitting metal reverberated through the trees. Yugao picked up two familiar chakra signatures – those of Ko and Yogi – as well as a muddled, concealed trace of someone trying to hide their presence. “Shit,” she swore under her breath. With a few powerful leaps, she put herself ahead of Itachi. “Keep close!” she ordered, unable to spare a glance over her shoulder to make sure he heard.

Itachi did as he was told. At this speed, it was more difficult for him to keep up, but as they moved, he sensed the skirmish as well. His new comrades were clearly in danger. Yugao remained in his line of vision as he pushed himself to go faster. Then, in an instant, she was gone.

The only sign of her was a flash of her purple hair as she somersaulted when her body hit the ground. Itachi dropped down, ricocheting himself from branch to branch along the ancient trees, earning himself a much softer landing. When his feet hit the ground, Yugao finished cinching the cloth bandage she’d wrapped around her forearm. He could see her blood, but it didn’t appear to be serious.

“Let’s go,” she ordered, her eyes scanning their surroundings. “They know we’re here. We need to get to Ko and Yogi.”

A kunai flew out of the forest and impaled itself in a tree trunk, millimeters from Itachi’s face. He rolled to dodge the attack, which was far from the last. He caught sight of a Suna nin hiding in the trees. From his black sunglasses and cloth-covered face, he seemed to also be a member of a black ops organization. Itachi’s hands flew as he formed familiar signs and took a deep breath; from his mouth erupted a ball of fire twice the size of his body in height alone.

The Suna ninja was forced out of hiding, right into Yugao’s trap. Her blade struck against the kunai in the Suna ninja’s right hand, which he held above his face. A swift kick to the abdomen knocked Yugao off her balance.

Itachi’s eyes spun red in anticipation, willing the enemy to meet his gaze. If he could only trap him in his genjutsu, they could farm him for information in a matter of seconds. However, luck was not on his side. In his moment of distraction, the enemy formed the hand signs for the Earth Flow Divide jutsu. A little too late, Itachi fled the ground beneath his feet. His fingers clung with desperation to the ledge in front of him, willing himself not to look down at the chasm awaiting his fall.

His small hands grabbed on to the thick tree roots, now exposed from the earth along the divide. It was enough to support the weight of a full-grown man, and Itachi pulled himself out with ease.

With a sickeningly wet sound, the Suna ninja jerked his kunai down and out of Yugao’s stomach. Her hands clutched desperately at the wound, but the blood pooling at her feet was already too much. She fell face-first into the grass, and Itachi’s shout was animalistic as he charged the enemy, ready to kill.

He was knocked to the ground, where he slid across the earth for several meters before coming to a stop. To his horror, a second ninja, dressed like the first, deposited two lifeless bodies at his companion’s feet.

In a voice like sandpaper, the second ninja taunted scornfully, “And then there was one. Should we let him run home with his tail between his legs?”

The first shook his head and rushed Itachi. The screeching noise that pierced Itachi’s ears was not, as he first thought, an auditory symptom of fear. In a streak of blue light, his captain jumped down, placing himself between Itachi and his attacker. With his lightning blade, Kakashi sent an electrical current through the kunai he caught with his bare hand. Instinctively, the Suna ninja dropped his weapon.

“Go!” Kakashi barked at his subordinate, who did as he was told.

Itachi ran past Tenzo, who threw up a protective wall of earth in his wake. He kept running, as fast as he could, but he wasn’t quick enough. A third Suna operative caught him with a sharp blow to the head, and he fell before his surroundings went black.

When he awoke, Itachi was greeted by darkness. His hands were bound behind his back, and he could feel the fabric of a blindfold against his forehead and cheekbones. He picked up Kakashi’s chakra nearby. It was faint, but it was there. He found reassurance in the fact that he wasn’t alone. “Captain?” he whispered, taking a risk.

A short, sharp hiss sounded to his right, a signal to remain silent.

The first Suna ninja’s hazy chakra entered the… wherever they were, and Itachi heard the sound of skin violently hitting against skin. He heard Kakashi spit and smelled iron. In the same, coarse voice, the ninja demanded, “I’ll ask you one more time. How did you track us?”

Kakashi growled deep in his chest, “I’d rather die.”

“You will, but not yet.” The menacing chakra moved in front of Itachi. “I want you to regret coming after us. You’re going to watch me kill the last kid on your squad before I leave you for the animals.” A fist lifted Itachi off the ground by the right strap of his armor.

He had to think fast. Itachi lifted his left shoulder and drug his face across it; once was all he needed. His red eye locked on to his attacker, who immediately let him go. Itachi maintained his genjutsu hold as he righted himself. The man screamed.

It was then that Itachi allowed himself to slip inside the nightmare. The Sand ninja hung limply from a cross. A single black crow cried out and landed on Itachi’s shoulder as he approached the man, his sharingan eyes cruel and calculating. With a swift flick of his wrist, he tore away the man’s cloth mask and glasses out of a desire to see the man who killed his teammates in his suffering.

Itachi staggered back in shock, the genjutsu broken. His captor fell to his knees, gasping for air. Itachi was enraged. In a voice too big for his small body, he snarled, “What the hell is going on here, Captain?!”

“Swear like that again, and we’ll have your mother wash out your mouth.” Yugao’s voice came from behind him, and he felt a kunai cut through his bindings. As soon as he was free, Itachi snatched off his blindfold.

In front of him sat Kakashi, who had removed his Suna garb, holding his head in his hands. The Kakashi to Itachi’s right went up in a cloud of smoke, leaving Tenzo in his place. So, it was a transformation jutsu. His body was shaking in anger when Ko and Yogi joined the rest of the squad. His eyes, still blazing red, narrowed. “Explain,” he ordered, as though they saw him as a threat.

Tenzo had rushed to Kakashi’s side, one hand on his back and the other on the front of his shoulder to steady him. He scolded his captain in a low tone, and words like ‘told you,’ ‘idiot,’ and ‘your ass’ reached Itachi’s ears. Kakashi lifted his head when his body recovered from the effects of the genjutsu.

“It’s an ANBU tradition to haze new recruits,” Kakashi explained. “We put Yugao through something similar when she joined, only she was forced to ‘kill’ Ko.”

“Shadow clone,” Ko added, trying to be helpful.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be able to use your sharingan,” Kakashi protested, almost pouting. “It seems like someone didn’t tie it tight enough.” His eyes flicked toward Tenzo.

“No. You know what? No. You hit me in the face. You actually hit me in the face.” Tenzo resisted the urge to smack Kakashi upside the head.

Itachi looked on, unamused. He was frustrated, angry, and relieved all at once. “Never,” he snarled, leveling each of his comrades with a look, “do something like that to me again.”

“Easy, kid. It’s a one-time-thing,” Yogi waved his hand. “You made it. You’re in.”

Kakashi smiled behind his mask. “Welcome to the ANBU, Uchiha.”

“Stop moving.” Kakashi grabbed the side of Tenzo’s head, trying to keep him still. He lifted the cotton ball to the cut on Tenzo’s cheek once more, and he flinched.

“It stings,” Tenzo complained. He clawed indignantly at Kakashi’s hand, which had taken a handful of his hair as an incentive to keep him in place.

“It’s worth it.”

“Easy for you to say, Jackass. I didn’t hit you.”

“I told you I’m sorry. I misjudged the distance.”

“Sure you did,” Tenzo snapped sarcastically. “Now let me go.”

Kakashi made a noise of disapproval, keeping his hold on him. “Not yet. Have to make sure it’s clean.”

Tenzo sighed, his patience wearing thin. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“There’s a list. Should I go chronologically or alphabetically?” Kakashi’s grip finally loosened, and he began to pack away the med kit which sat open on his kitchen table.

Tenzo got to his feet, radiating annoyance at Kakashi’s callousness. Without a word, he started for the door, but Kakashi caught him by the fabric of his shirt.

“Kakashi-”

“You said my name.”

“Yes.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell as Tenzo waited for Kakashi to say something or let him go. He did neither for several seconds. Finally, he let go and trudged over to his bed, where he sat with his legs crossed and back against the wall. His eyes met Tenzo’s back as he spoke. “I didn’t listen to my voice of reason.” Another pause. “You were right.”

“I know.” Tenzo’s words were flat, but he had turned around.

Kakashi thought for a moment. “Would it make it even if I let you punch me in the face?” The look in his eyes showed he was serious. He was so far off the mark that Tenzo couldn’t keep himself from laughing. The white-haired ninja arched an eyebrow at his reaction.

“No, Senpai. I’m not that petty.”

“Oh, good. I was worried for a minute.”

“And Senpai?”

“Yes?”

“Next time, we use my plan.”

[amerart]

Divin/Rivi crossover story

Lost. The word rang in Divin’s ears, hung in the summer haze that surrounded him. At this point, he was too tired to panic, but the fact that he was lost still caused a twinge of discomfort.

The long-stemmed junegrass bent beneath his sneakers; everywhere he walked, clouds of tiny gnats rose up to meet him. The heat had risen considerably since he had set out that morning, but in true Killwin fashion Divin still wore his dark, iconic hoodie, holes in the pockets and patches sewn in the elbows.

His legs hurt, and he was feeling rather grouchy from missing lunch. The potato chips and trail mix had run out hours ago, and his water bottle was running dangerously low- he hadn’t seen a stream or creek for hours now.

Divin ran his hand through his thick, curly mop of hair, cursing it for being so adept at absorbing the sun’s heat and thus increasing his misery. He could hear his father’s voice in his head, pleading with him to wear a hat- he had refused, naturally. He wondered what the old man was doing right now. This late in the afternoon, he was probably out on the porch with a cool glass of applewater and a book. Paisely would be coming home from school right about now- what time was it anyway? With his pocketwatch buried somewhere in the bottom of his backback, he had no idea.

In every direction, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but an amber-green sea of grass. Not a single bush, building, or wandering farmer- just miles and miles of gently waving blades. However, if he squinted hard, Divin could see a tiny patch of something dark green- trees, perhaps?

Whatever it was, it was bound to be infinitely better than slow roasting in this blistering heat. Divin set off down the hill, his sword clanking against his back. A gift from his father, it was nearly as long as he was tall. Again he heard his father’s voice insisting he take the sword with him, with a promise that he would grow into it someday- but for now, it was just one more piece of crap to drag around.

By the time Divin came within view of the trees, his hunger and thirst had reached a peak, and he was on the verge of passing out. However, as he approached, his despair only mounted- this was no familiar wood, and it seemed barely large enough to hold a few birds, much less any life-sustaining bodies of water. But he was desperate, and at this point he didn’t have much choice.

“Greetings, stranger.” Divin jumped as a pleasant, melodic voice reached his ears. He reached for his sword, but only succeeded in getting the blade a quarter of the way out of its sheath before it got stuck. He pushed it back and looked around.

“Um, greetings?”

 “No need for weapons here.” The voice said, and Divin saw that it belonged to a young boy sitting with his back against an old pine at the edge of the trees.

“Could you help me out?” Divin said, then remembered his manners. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble… I’m a little lost.”

The strange boy met his gaze, and he saw a round, kindly face bordered by rusty locks woven into a thick braid. His clothing was quaint and simple, nothing more than a faded brown blazer over a clean white shirt, and threadbare brown shorts. True to his word, he had no weapons to speak of, but he did have something far more interesting:

Jutting out of his back were two enormous, chocolate-covered wings, half-folded in a lazy, restful manner.

“You have wings!” Divin blurted out, then stopped himself. “Sorry… Didn’t mean to be rude I just… nevermind.”

The winged boy seemed unaffected by this comment, and smiled up at him. “Lost, you say?”

 “Yeaaah…” Divin stuck his hands in his pockets. “And I kinda ran out of food and water.”

The boy patted the ground next to him, indicating that Divin should take a seat. “So nice to meet a fellow traveler. My name’s Rivi, by the way. Rivi Redwing.”

“Divin.” Divin replied, still not quite sure if he could trust what he was seeing. The boy seemed friendly enough, but those wings… After a few moments of deliberation, Divin made up his mind and joined him under the towering pine. The area beneath the tree was cool and shaded, and covered in a thick layer of clover and wildflowers. Fat, lazy bumblebees staggered from flower to flower; cicadas droned like a series of endlessly ringing telephones in the branches above them.

“Lucky for you, I was just about to have lunch.” Rivi said, pulling out two sandwiches and large canteen. “So, traveler, what brings a youngster like you around these parts?”

Divin bristled. “I’m twelve.”

Rivi’s face split into a grin. “As am I!” He offered up one of the sandwiches, then took a bite of his own. “Say, you’re not a wanderer, are you?”

Divin eyed both him and the sandwich.“What if I am?”

Rivi swallowed, and his smile grew even larger. “It’s the most noble occupation there is, if you ask me. Nobody to tell you what to do, or where to go, just you and the open road. Am I right?”

Divin nodded, and decided that Rivi didn’t really seem the type to give poisoned sandwiches to strangers. He tasted fresh herbs and some kind of unfamiliar crunchy meat; the flavor was gamey and foreign, but it wasn’t bad.

“I don’t suppose you have any maps or anything?” He asked.

“Never had any use for maps, myself.” Rivi said. “Remi didn’t use ‘em, and neither do I.”

Remi? Divin decided not to ask.

“I’ve been all over Amadok and I’ve never even heard of this place.” Divin said, brushing crumbs off his pants.

“Amadok.” Rivi let the word rest in his mouth like candy. “I’m not familiar with that region, I’m afraid.”

Divin stared at him. “Then we must be in Yaire, right?” He tried to ignore the fact that Yaire was a month’s journey at least, and he had been walking for less than a day.

Rivi finished his sandwich, and leaned back with his hands behind his head.

“You’re in Omori, my boy.”

Now it was Divin’s turn to chew on an unfamiliar word. “Omori? Where the heck is Omori? I don’t remember seeing that on any of the maps…” He felt the twinge of anxiety return.

Rivi picked a daisy, and watched idly as a tiny green caterpillar inched across it. “You people and your maps… Why not just run free for a while?” He paused, gazing off into the distance. “Remi once told me that being a wanderer is different from any other trade. There’s no end goal to what you’re doing- no finish line to cross, no final destination… The wind tells you where to go, and so you go, until it tells you to stop going.

Divin picked up the canteen and took a sip; the water was clear and sweet. “I mean, I’d totally do that if I could but… I kinda need to go home. My dad’s waiting for me. He doesn’t like it when I go on these trips but I just get this feeling, like I HAVE to go somewhere, and-”

“If you don’t go, your feet will just drag you up of their accord.” Rivi finished for him, chuckling a bit. “Remi said the same thing.”

They were both quiet for a minute, lulled into silence by the monotonous droning of a woodpecker, mingled with the eternal hum of an invisible army of insects. Above their heads the trees whispered to one another, given voices by a slight breeze.

“You and Remi must be really good friends.”

“We were, and we still are.” Rivi replied, his eyes half closed. “His spirit guides me each and every day to new places, that he never got a chance to see for himself.”

“I’m… sorry.” Divin replied, not sure what to say. He was no stranger to suffering himself, but he couldn’t imagine permanently losing his best friend. He thought of his wolf pup, Ripburger, and his friends back home, and for the first time since he had set out, he felt a pang of homesickness.

Rivi opened his eyes and stretched with renewed vigor. “So, tell me again where you’re from, and maybe I can help you on your way.”

“Um… I live in Surrin, Amadok, with my dad and my sister- though, he’s not REALLY my dad, and she’s not really my sister, because of all these alternate timelines and...  “ Divin trailed off, realizing it probably wasn’t necessary to go into his entire life’s story. “Anyway, I’ve never even remotely heard of Omori, and I have no idea how I even got here.”

Rivi nodded, apparently understanding Divin’s rambling.

“Okay, I’m really sorry if I’m being rude, but I have to ask.” Divin blurted. “Are those real?” he pointed to Rivi’s wings.

“Oh yes, they’re real all right.” Rivi stood up slowly, and unfurled both his wings. They caught the light of the sinking sun, and in that golden hour, they looked as though they belonged to an angel in a cathedral, not this strange, soft, wandering boy. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Divin could only nod. Amadok had its wonders, but winged children were not one of them.

“Beautiful, but about as useful as a fish that can’t swim, to borrow a favorite phrase of Remi’s.”

“Useless?” Divin said, dismayed. He had been looking forward to a little display.

Rivi shrugged. “Let’s just say me and some of the local spirits aren’t on the best of terms.”

“I know how that is.” Divin agreed.

“Anyway, I suppose we better be finding you a way home then, eh?” Rivi reached into the pocket of his blazer, and pulled out a scrap of paper and a piece of charcoal. “I have a theory- I could be wrong, mind you, but it’s an idea

Divin leaned in, eager to see just what this grand idea might be.

“Seems to me you might have walked yourself right through a corridor.”

“A… what?”

“A walkway between worlds. Not exactly easy to just stumble across, but it does happen.”

“So how do I find this corridor thing again?”

The golden afternoon was turning a sort of peachy orange, as the sun set and the shadows lengthened. Divin played with a thread on the end of his sleeve, feeling antsy. The first crickets were tuning up, and birds called goodbyes to one another as they each headed to their respective nests for the night.

Rivi tapped the charcoal against the paper. “That’s the hard part. Now, can you tell me any of the landmarks you saw on the way?”

“There weren’t any!” Divin cried. “That’s why I got lost in the first place- there’s nothing but cheesecaking grass the whole way!”

Rivi remained cool and steady despite his outburst. “Okay…”

“Well, there was this ONE thing, a big rock, kinda shaped like a dog.” Divin admitted. “But I can’t remember if that was here, or back home in Amadok. Oh, and there was this weird old tree that someone carved a face into. Not a particularly good face either.” He added.

“I know that tree!” Rivi said. “It’s by that old burnt-out farmhouse!”

“Did you carve that face?” Divin asked, not sounding particularly pleased. The face on the tree had scared him senseless when he encountered it, and he still felt embarrassed even now.

“Maybe.” Rivi said cryptically. “Anyway, so I think I’ve figured out what you need to do.” He scribbled something on the paper, rubbed it out with his thumb, and then rewrote it.

“Walk back the way you came…”

All the way? Divin grumbled to himself.

“And when you reach the farmhouse, there’ll be a big, flat-topped rock there. What you need to do is stand in the center of it, and then…” Rivi handed him the scrap of paper.

“I am NOT doing that!” Divin said, upon examination of its contents.

Rivi shrugged. “You’re welcome to stay here then.”

Divin fidgeted and glared at the paper, indecision lining his face. Should he spend the night in a strange,dangerous country, or embarrass the heck out of himself?

“You should go home.” Rivi said softly. “Or your dad’s going to worry.”

“He worries about EVERYTHING.” Divin muttered. “I can’t even leave the house without getting a lecture.”

“He must love you a lot, then.”

Divin huffed. “I guess.” The paper had stained his fingers an ashy black from gripping it so hard.

“It won’t be so bad.” Rivi soothed. “Nobody will see you.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. You best be on your way now, before the night finds you…I’d walk you there myself but…” Rivi smiled softly and gestured to the woods. “A certain spirit and I are due for our evening conversation.”

Divin nodded and gave him a small, awkward smile back. He hadn’t made a new friend in a long time, and the thought was both comforting and bewildering to him.

“Do you think we’ll meet again, sometime?” He asked.

Somewhere above their heads, an owl let out a shrill, drawn-out cry.

“Perhaps.” Rivi said. “If the wind wills it to be so.” He stood up. “If not, well…” He stuck out his hand in an unfamiliar gesture, and Divin shook it, unsure of what else he was suppose to do.

“May Remi’s spirit guide you, as it has guided me. Travel safely, my friend.”

Divin nodded. They stood there a moment longer, then he was off. He looked back, to see Rivi waving after him; when he looked again, he had vanished.

Divin looked at the paper in his hand, then at the road ahead. Boy was he going to have a story to tell when he got home…

Home. The thought had never been more comforting.

[i-am-agent-washingtub]

The Exile gets a kitten and only barely tries to pretend she’s using it to bother Atton for no reason. No possible reason at all.

(I wrote this months ago after finishing the game but only just found it gathering dust in a folder and it’ll be a weight lifted to shove it off to you guys.)

“Did you find out why the general stayed behind?” Bao-Dur asked when Atton finally made his way up the Ebon Hawk’s boarding ramp, defeated.

“She force shoved me away!” he said in disbelief. “Like, actually shoved me! With the force!”

Bao-dur arched his brow.

“She just– I can’t believe her! She told me to ‘Scram, Rand!’ and flicked her hand at me and–” Atton stomped his foot and huffed.

“That sounds a little short tempered even for her,” Bao-Dur said.

“Well, I mean, yeah, she told me a couple times before that that she was fine and I should leave and she did ask kind of nicely, but to use the force on me? It’s a shady city out there! I wasn’t going to just leave her alone in an alley on Nar Shadda! I don’t remember doing anything to piss her off more than usual… Did I? Did you see me do something to bother her?”

“Not that I can think of. Maybe she’s just finally had enough of you.”

“No, that’s– No. No, that can’t be it,” Atton said, trying to convince himself more than Bao-Dur.

“Well, if she’s not back in half an hour I’ll go check on her,” Bao-Dur assured as he turned his attention back to the workbench.

Atton found Halyn leaning against the communications room doorway with her back to him a few minutes after Bao-Dur had finally gone to find her.

“–and I don’t care if it’s Atton’s jacket or just a sock or even Kreia’s musty old… anything, just pile it all in the box, ok?”

T3-M4 whistled affirmatively from the room. Halyn stepped roughly back into Atton to let T3-M4 pass down the hallway to the center of the ship and he caught her by the shoulders. Atton looked down expectantly at Halyn. His heart fluttered at the applewood scent and warmth coming off Halyn as they listened to T3-M4 whirr away from them. He tried to swallow despite the anxious dryness in his mouth and tried in vain to think of a witty and sarcastic way to greet the Exile for finally returning to them.

“Is there a reason you snuck up so close behind me, Atton?” Halyn asked, emoting at the wall across from them.

The moment had passed. Atton quickly pushed her upright. She turned to face him, leaning against the doorway again with her arms crossed under a bulge in her jacket.

“If you think that was me sneaking up on you then oh, boy, do I have a really neat trick to show you next time we head out somewhere.”

“Is it you finally disappearing completely?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it; you made it real clear you wanted me gone when you went all Jedi to shoo me off. I get it. It’s just this isn’t exactly the planet you want to be sitting alone in an alley on even with all the major bounty hunters killed. They spring up like weeds, you know. Save the Force powers for one of them next time.”

“One, not a Jedi, we’ve been over this. Two, I asked you to leave. A bunch of times. Then I told you to leave and you got stubborn so, hey, buddy, maybe next time I ask for some time to stare at a box, let me stare at the kriffing box in peace. And, three, I’m actually kind of sorry about that.”

“Right, well, you can make it up to me later. Or start a little right now and tell me why you were ordering that little tin bucket of yours to throw my jacket in a box with Kreia’s musty things.”

“Oh, right, I need some… soft… things for a thing and there’s usually a bunch of dirty clothes lying around on the floor in places they shouldn’t be so I’m declaring all those things forfeit and T3-M4 is going to collect them for me.”

“Not that I like to pry, but that was incredibly vague.”

Halyn shrugged slightly.

“It’s kind of a surprise, I guess. Have you seen Bao-Dur? I was going to ask him for some of his work rags but he’s not around which is why your laundry is now in danger.”

“Oh, he went out to look for you just before this. Probably worrying his horns off that you’re not still sitting in that alley.”

Halyn scrunched her face in an expression Atton couldn’t quite place. He figured there was some amount of confusion mixed with appreciation.

“Right, then I’ll just–” he noted the bulge above her arms shift slightly as she stepped fully into the hallway while speaking, “–hope he took his communicator with him and tell him to come back.” She scooted past him and said something once she reached the edge of his hearing that sounded curiously like a note to herself to ask Bao-Dur to pick up kitten food on his way back. He took a moment to wonder just how much he trusted his own hearing before he caught a glimpse of T3-M4 rolling past a far opening with his jacket in its clutches.

“Hey! Give that back or I swear I’ll sell you for parts!”

“What does a trash bucket like your little droid buddy even need to be that fast for?” Atton huffed as he stepped into the port dormitory with an armful of his own dirty clothes. T3-M4 tittered triumphantly past him with one of his gloves waving above him. Halyn peered out from behind the furthest bunk to watch Atton drop his bundle of clothes in a sudden grab for his glove and begin a new battle with T3-M4 to recover all his dropped items before the droid could scoop them up. He shouted various profanities at the droid while T3-M4 responded in kind with scandalized beeps and whirs. Atton caught a glimpse of Halyn watching them with amusement a moment before T3-M4 resorted to using a low powered shock.

“Stop! I am very proud of your dedication to helping me, T3, but I think Atton has given up enough of a fight to mean he really wants those clothes. Let him keep them,” Halyn ordered and ducked back behind the bunk. “Except for one more sock!”

Atton let out a wordless shout as he tried to protect his many loose socks but T3-M4 snatched one too quickly for him to prevent and flung it over the far bunk to where Halyn sat. It chittered contentedly and slowly whirred out of sight.

“I’m going to get that back,” Atton warned as he shoved his clothes under the second to last bunk. He heard a curious squeak from Halyn as he piled his jacket and gloves on his mattress. “What was that?”

He slinked cautiously over Halyn’s bunk and propped himself up on his elbows inches beside her head. A kitten sat shakily in her lap, swatting at her fluttery fingertips.

“Atton, meet Atton!” she said, brandishing the thin, uneasy kitten in his face.

“Is this what was in the alley box?”

“Wow. What an incredibly warm welcome. Be mindful or I’ll teach him to use your pillow to relieve himself,” she warned and held the kitten close against her chest. Atton eyed a low walled box to her right lined with various cloth items, including a sock or two of his.

“It’s cute that you wanted an Atton to call your very own but if you wanted a cuddle buddy you could have just asked me.”

“You would need to bathe for a solid week before I voluntarily let you touch me, Rand.”

“Hey, now, how many baths do you think that thing has had in its entire life?”

“Counting the one I’m about to give him? More than you.”

Atton frowned at the kitten capturing Halyn’s attention (and fingers in its small, nibbling mouth). The frankly tiniest kitten Atton had ever seen shivered every time it lifted its skeletal paw out to bat a finger and screeched weakly after every few moments. It had a muddy tortoiseshell coat with numerous small mats of muddy fur offset by bald spots and a few patches of thin, wiry fur. One of its ears was mangled at the tip and its whiskers bent erratically. Drab, watery gold-brown eyes darted back and forth piteously from the center of its broad, mucous encrusted face. It was hideous.

“Are you really naming it Atton?”

“Yeah! He kind of looks like you, don’t you think?”

Atton looked at the contentment on Halyn’s face and felt a twinge of hurt.

“Look, he’s a little scruffy, but I think I can fix him up nice and handsome.” She held the kitten up proudly in front of her face. “Here, he’s been smelling your stinky socks so he should be comfortable with you holding him while I go figure out how I’m going to wash him. And check on Bao-Dur’s progress with finding kitten food.”

Halyn gently placed the kitten on Atton’s back and left before he had a chance to complain. The kitten stood where she left it, shivering its little claws through Atton’s shirt and meowing sadly.

“Yeah, you get used to not having her around all the time,” Atton said, struggling to grab the kitten off his back. It began moving hesitantly down his back and Atton felt its claws slip painfully every time he moved. He decided to let the kitten figure it out.

“So that’s your bed, huh? Tiny box of stolen laundry right next to her bed here. My bed’s next to hers, too, see; it’s right there.” He vaguely pointed at the next bunk over and the kitten fell completely off his back. “Not as close as yours, but at least I’m far enough away she can’t just smack me when I keep her up at night talking about stupid things.” He rolled up against the headboard and pulled the kitten into his lap.

“So, if she thinks you look like me, that means I look like a mess (which isn’t surprising) but she also thinks you can clean up nice and I’m pretty sure I can clean up nicer than a street cat so–” he trailed off wagging his finger in front of the kitten’s nose. Atton the Kitten showed no interest in his game. “I can’t tell what’s my lower point; talking to Bao-Dur or a kitten about Halyn and me. The possibility of Halyn and me?” The kitten nibbled tentatively on his finger. “You need to do the name of Atton proud, little guy. Maybe if she likes you enough she’ll start to associate your good Atton qualities with me and then– nope. Nope, I’m done talking to you, cat. Done,” he promised, taking his finger back from the kitten to point at it sternly. He waggled his finger slightly when the kitten softly laid its claws on his extended finger. With a dramatic stretch, the kitten slipped its claws off and scratched lightly at the folds of Atton’s shirt. It curled up gently against him, examining the room with jerky movements and heavy eyelids.  

“Or maybe you’re just competition,” Atton mused. He frowned. “No, that’s stupid even for me.”

Atton the Kitten nestled his face finally in Atton the Human’s shirt. Atton listened to the soft whistling of the kitten’s breathing for a moment, contemplating its small size.

“Atton the Cat’n!” Halyn called, her heavy footsteps thumping toward the dormitory. “Time for your bath.”

“Good luck, mini me,” Atton told the kitten with a gentle pat on its head as Halyn came into view with her sleeves scrunched up and hair pulled back. “Be gentle with him,” he asked Halyn, holding up the whining kitten with one hand.

“If you say so.” Halyn picked the kitten delicately out of Atton’s hand and held it in front of her face, watching it whine. She turned around to leave. “Don’t worry, Atton is in good hands,” she said, hoisting the kitten above her head as she left.

Atton the Kitten let out one last plaintive meow and Atton followed up with an amused sigh.

“This is going to get confusing,” he said to the ceiling as he pulled his legs up and settled into Halyn’s bunk to await her return.