#petition to give him more snake features

[99yikes]

inumaki scribbles 🐍🌸

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the breakfast

lilac, chapter two

a/n: when my love, @chvoswxtch, asked me to bring the horny energy of miss patty from gilmore girls, of course I fucking did it, I'm not a criminal, that's what we all deserve

summary: “well, hello stranger.” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, wholesome villagers being adorable

word count: 2373

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The Lilac Inn wasn’t just an inn to the citizens of Dunbrook. It was its beating heart, a hub for the small community to gather. 

As the town’s only culinary establishment, the residents had always made a habit of eating a fair amount of their meals in the inn’s dining room, the door to the kitchen often staying wide open so that Harvey wouldn’t have to leave the stove in order to catch all of the juicy small-town gossip that had people blabbering. 

“Dad, did you turn off my alarm?” you snapped as soon as your scurrying feet carried you into the bustling kitchen.

Not lifting his eyes from the loaf of bread he was currently slicing, your dad simply countered with a jovial, “well, good morning to you too, sleeping beauty!”

“Dad,” you sighed, jaw clenching at his usual demeanour, the paralysing dream you’d just roused from not setting you up to be in the right mood for such a level of positivity. 

“You just looked like you could use the extra hour or two,” a smile still warm on his lips, the middle-aged man defensively raised his hands.

“But I’m supposed to help you out,” your eyes followed his movements as he trotted towards the stove, “I can’t do that if I’m asleep.”

“Exactly,” your dad passed by a hook full of tangled textiles and tossed you an apron, “that’s why I let you go a little longer so that you wouldn’t doze off on me before lunchtime arrives.” 

“I wouldn’t have dozed off…” you mumbled pettily as you tied the linen around your waist. Exhaling lowly as you watched him crack two eggs into a sizzling skillet, you asked, “what can I do?”

“Well for starters,” he tossed the shells into a small scrap bowl to his side, “these were the last eggs, so if you could go get some more out by the front desk, that would be superb.”

“Why do you have eggs on the front desk?”

“Because Otto’s chickens are laying a lot right now and so he told me he’d give me some today when he swung by for breakfast.” 

“Wait, Sheriff Nilsen has chickens now?”

“Yeah, has for a long time,” the decade of you not living here grew palpable, “he usually just drops the extra ones off here, so they should already be there because I just took his order two minutes ago.”

“Alright,” you disappeared through the back door and snaked down the narrow corridor, ending up behind the messy reception area. 

Your eyes didn’t have to search for long before you noticed the petite basket, brimming with beige eggs, resting on the top of the counter right beside the small rolodex that displayed what date it was. Grasping it in your hand, your vision momentarily drifted down to the small, framed photo nuzzled behind the ever-open logbook. Sitting on the swing that still hung from one of the sturdy trees out back, head adorably posed in a tiny palm, there a 7-year-old version of you sat, forever frozen in that singular moment, beaming up at the camera. 

“Ah!” a sharp voice boomed as you heard the front door swing shut, “oh my goodness, oh my god! Y/n!”

Raising your chin, your eyes grew wide at the rotund woman beaming at you from the doormat, “miss Rays!” you hurried around the front desk, “oh my god, it’s been so long!” 

Capturing you in a hug, she pressed your form into her bosom, “darling, we’re not in bed together, call me Donna.”

Pulling back with a light chuckle, your eyes fluttered over her features, “you haven’t changed one bit,” her lipstick still a fiery shade red and hair still short and feathery framing her plump cheeks.

“You however have,” she clasped your free hand in hers, guiding your figure to give her a good view, “oh, do a little spin for me,” you bashfully obliged with a giggle, “yes! Honey, who is this woman, what have you done with the adorable little girl I used to tutor?”

To your knowledge, Dunbrook never really had a proper school, but for as long as you could recall Donna had always operated as a teacher to the handful of children that called the reclusive mountain village their home. Even though it was just run out of her living room, she had still been the best teacher you’d ever had, her patient way rivalling any of the professors you had to endure when you went off for college. As a matter of fact, she had been the person who’d pushed you to send in the application, praising that you were too clever not to go out and change the world. 

“Oh, stop it,” you sighed light-heartedly, a chuckle still bubbling out of your chest as you shifted the subject away from your own appearance, “so, you still come here for breakfast?”

“Of course, I do, you’ve tasted your father’s cooking,” readjusting her purse, she hooked her arm in yours, “a real shame that he’s never accepted any of my offers of becoming your stepmom,” she leaned in to add as you crossed over the threshold into the dinner room, “I could have been served all my meals in bed like some Egyptian queen!” 

“I’m sure you can easily find another fellow that can handle himself in the kitchen,” the click-clack of her heels came to a stop by one of the small round tables, her eyes briefly taking in the other patrons before a slight crease appeared betwixt her polished brows. 

“Oh, darn it,” her vision stayed glued to the table in the corner as she lowered herself onto her seat, “he’s not sitting at his usual table…”

“Who?”

“The eye candy over there,” she tilted her chin in the direction of the broad, muted flannel-clad back of the man sitting by the window furthest down at the bottom of the room, “you see, I asked your dear father to always reserve this spot for me just so that I can have a great view, if you know what I mean…” gulping down the rest of his coffee, the man’s head tilted enough for you to recognise whom the rugged looking visage belonged to, “oh boy, I tell you, if I was 30 years younger…”

Haven assumed that you’d never again run into the stranger who’d helped you just the day before, a warm flutter suddenly trickled down your spine, “like that’s ever stopped you before,” you pointed out, snapping your eyes out of their trance, “so, uh, do you know what you want to eat or do you just want some coffee or something while you think on it?” you took two steps towards the oblong table where mismatched teacups where stacked and the steam of a few thermoses, all containing a different hot beverage then the next, billowed out.

“Some coffee would be lovely,” she smiled as you with one hand snatched up a mug and the decanter labelled as such, “and some oatmeal if you don’t mind, sweetie.”

Promptly pouring her a cup, you then signed off with a wink, “you got it,” before your vision landed upon the latest of Donna’s abundant infatuations once more. 

Attempting to make the short journey seem spontaneous and effortless, you bounced from table to table, topping off people's cups, before reaching the final one. 

Drawing in a deep breath, your embarrassingly giddy voice then found his ears, “well, hello stranger.” 

Eyes flickering away from the newspaper sprawled out before him, a look of shock washed over his gruff features as he glanced up at you, “oh, hi.”

“Pete–, it is Pete, right?” you checked, slight mortification beginning to brew within your belly. 

“Yes, ma'am,” his head nodded ever so slightly.

“Do you want a refill, Pete?” you savoured the taste of his name on your tongue. 

“Sorry?” his brows furrowed at your offer. 

“Your coffee,” you pointed with the hand that clutched the handle of the thermos, “do you want some more?”

“Oh,” he breathed, though the puzzled look didn’t seem to fade, “yes, always.” 

Leaning in slightly over the newspaper, you filled up the drained mug, only a murky ring at the bottom indicating what it had previously contained, “and can I get you something to eat as well?” 

Eyes narrowing, he stared up at you, “is your vacation really already so boring that you got a job here or what?”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but breathe out a light chuckle as you answered, “I’m not on vacation and I guess, kinda,” staring back into his eyes as you attempted to repeat your question, “so, do you want any–,” though before you could finish the sentence, out pranced your father, a plate of food balanced in his palm. 

“2 eggs sunny side up and some sourdough toast, as per usual,” he sang as his long arm came down to slice the air between your forms, placing the dish upon the table. 

Briefly catching his eye, Pete then offered a polite nod of gratitude, “thank you,” folding the paper up and scooting the meal closer. 

Feeling the small basket of eggs disappear from your grip, you blinked back at your father as he softly requested in your ear, “honey, could you give me a hand in the back when you’re done out here?”

“Sure, dad,” you flashed him a smile before watching him disappear once more. 

Feet still glued to the floorboards right by Pete’s table, your vision then returned to him as his deep voice washed over you, “so, you’re Harvey’s kid, then?”

“Yep, that’s my dad,” your balance briefly shifted as you rocked on the balls of your feet, “thank you, by the way, for yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” his fork punctured one of the golden yokes, “how’s your car looking?” 

“I don’t really know yet. The local mechanic is taking a look today, so fingers crossed it’s not anything too catastrophic,” you felt your palms begin to sweat as he simply stared up at you in silence, “anyhow,” you averted your gaze nervously, “I’ll stop bothering you, let eat in peace,” you nearly bumped into the chair behind you as you backed up towards the kitchen, the near accident not managing to draw any words out of him, only the hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips, “see you around, I guess…” 

“Hey, dad?” 

Briefly raising his eyes from the logbook cracked open on the wooden counter, he glanced up at you as you bounced down the wide staircase, “yeah, pumpkin?”

Hand tracing the railing, with the aid of the grip, you swung your form around the last post as you ascended the final step, “did you know that the hot water doesn’t work? Like at all.”

“Yeah, that and about a million other things around here,” he sighed, vision returning to the ledger as you rested your folded-up arms upon the top of the reception, “this is a beautiful historic building… and what I mean by that is that there are too many things that either don’t work the way they should or at all. I am not a millionaire, honey. If I was, then the issues wouldn’t be piling up the way that they are…”

Bottom lip snug between your teeth, your mind raced a moment before you quietly theorised, “exactly how long is that list?”

Eyes racing to find your eyes, your father joked, “why? Did you become a contractor while living in New York or something?”

“No, but I was always the handy one out of the two of us,” you noted before your shoulders raised in an innocent shrug, “how hard could it be?”

“Let me get this right,” he raised a palm up between you as his eyes crinkled even further, “you’re telling me you wanna try and patch this place up?”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt the business side of things. When was the last time you booked out more than two rooms at a time here?”

“Oh, no, no,” the moustachioed man then began to shake his head, “you’re not turning this place into some fake, glossy tourist attraction.”

Swinging around to his side of the counter, you assured him, “hey, I’m not saying let's flood this place with tourists, but maybe just a handful more?” tilting your head in an attempt to catch his gaze that had now returned to the open book, “just enough to make ends meet, perhaps also enough to at some point hire someone else so that you won’t work yourself to death…” 

Eyes frozen on the page before him, a long exhale then flowed from his lungs as he deliberated. 

“Alright, fine, yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be that bad…” he tried to downplay the smile that blossomed upon his lips.

Spine pressed against the edge of the front desk, you then braced with your palms and hauled yourself up onto the spot that was just clear enough for you to sit there without knocking any knickknacks over. 

“So,” you drew out, searching for a new topic to explore, “Donna seems to be quite set on that guy Pete to be her new husband, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harvey chortled, “but you know her, she’s like a dog spotting a pheasant every time she sees a new man. I think genuinely I might be the only person in town who isn’t either terrified of him or has some desire to sleep with him.”

“How long has he been here anyway?”

“Eh,” he glanced up at the stained glass adorning the front door as he thought, “maybe a year or two? He mostly keeps to himself, lives up in a cabin in the woods and only really comes down here to either provide some firewood to whoever needs it or have some coffee,” vision landing on you, he then noted, “you however seemed to have broken through to him quite quickly. Took me like 5 months to get anything more than a grunt of recognition out of him.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t stop your eyebrows as they promptly rose up, “well, he kinda helped me the day that I got here. He was the guy I caught a ride with…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[sisterspooky1013]

More Than A Feeling, Chapter 6

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Week Three-Dadeville, MO

“Hey Penny, you have a minute?”

Scully stands and her head spins a touch at the change in elevation paired with a lack of sleep. Jean is approaching with two young women trailing behind her.

“Hey Jean, what’s up?” she asks, shielding her eyes from the sun with her arm.

“These are the local hires this week: Rachel and Miranda,” Jean says, gesturing to the young women. “They’re both gonna be on games, but Lenny is grabbing a couple hours of shut eye so I’m hoping you can at least show them around until he’s ready to start their training, introduce them to people and what not.”

“Sure,” Scully says, forcing a smile through her exhaustion. Jean nods and walks away. “I’m Penny, I keep the rides running with Summer,” Scully says, offering her hand to shake.

“Rachel,” the petite brunette woman says as she shakes Scully’s hand. She’s slight with large features, and has a somewhat elfin quality.

“Miranda,” the other woman, who has shiny chestnut hair and a stoic disposition, says, offering a small wave instead of a handshake.

“Did Jean give you a tour?” Scully asks, concealing her irritation when they shake their heads no. She has a shit ton of work to do before she can get some sleep, and orienting new hires is Jean’s job, not hers.

She shows them the areas that are slowly taking shape as the midway and concessions, offering tips about which booths to avoid and which rides are likely to make them sick. She introduces them to Mickey and Picker, then leads them over towards the boneyard.

“Are you staying in the bunkhouse?” she asks, and they both nod. “Well, make sure to keep your door locked,” she suggests, “and you may want to pick up some ear plugs when you’re in town. It’s loud in there.”

That’s based on what Mulder has shared with her, of course. She’s yet to more than poke her head into his room, if you can really call it that.

She’s hardly seen him since their kiss last night, what with slough and the long drive to Dadeville that she mostly slept through. They haven’t discussed where they will meet for their midnight rendezvous, though she infers that they’ll do so in her trailer, now that everyone thinks that they’re together.

“This is the cook trailer,” Scully says, leading them to the canopy set up in front of it and taking a seat at one of the picnic tables. Rachel and Miranda do the same, taking the spots directly across from her. “This is where we eat and socialize. Madge is the cook, and Luke helps her out.”

“I think I do a bit more than help her out, Penny,” Mulder says as he slides onto the bench beside her.

He sits close, uncomfortably close, and she feels her eyes start to widen before she catches herself. She turns to look at him, finding an impish smile on his mouth that makes her lips quirk.

“I stand corrected,” she says, holding his eye. “Luke is the mastermind behind this entire operation.”

“Well, that may be overstating it a touch,” Mulder says, and she feels his arm snake around her waist, pulling her flush to him. “But I do what I can.”

Her heart stutters and she turns away from him, gesturing to the two women across from her who are watching them curiously. “Luke, this is Rachel and Miranda. They’re the local hires this week.”

“Welcome to the show,” Mulder says, shaking each of their hands. “I’m just about to get started on lunch; I hope you both like pulled pork.”

They smile politely and Mulder releases his grip on Scully’s waist. He stands to leave, but at the last moment leans back down and presses his lips to her cheek.

“Later, Penny,” he says quietly, then goes into the cook trailer.

“Did you meet here?” Rachel asks with a hopeful tone, perhaps wondering if there is a second dashingly-handsome man on staff who she may find love with.

“Uh, yes,” Scully replies with a tight smile. “A couple weeks ago.”

Rachel’s eyebrows lift in surprise.

“A couple weeks?” she questions, but doesn’t elaborate.

Scully looks beyond them to the window of the cook trailer and sees Mulder watching her, his lip pinned between his teeth.

Two agonizingly long hours later, she is finally permitted to take her turn to rest. She slumps into her trailer and flicks on the radio to drown out the intermittent clangs of rides and booths being assembled, then flops onto the bed, not bothering to clean up or change. She’s drifting, fading towards sleep when there is a soft rap at her trailer door. She sits up abruptly, confused, and goes to open it, finding Mulder on the other side. Her shoulders slump and her face knits into an expression of agony.

“I was just about to finally get some sleep,” she whines, and he smiles sheepishly.

“I know, I was going to see if I could join you,” he says with a little shrug. “I’m off until dinner prep and it’s like Grand Central Station in the bunkhouse.”

She heaves a sigh and pushes the door open wider, returning to the bed and lying down on her back. Mulder lies down beside her, and they are quiet for a bit.

“Jean cleared all Barry’s stuff out of the bunkhouse before we left Kansas City,” he says, and she turns her head to look at him.

“His car was still there when we left?” she asks, and he nods with his eyes closed. “We need to tell Skinner. My day off isn’t until Tuesday, you?”

“Tuesday, too,” Mulder answers on a yawn. “But I made a pitstop on the way down and called him from a payphone so he could get things moving on it.”

Scully furrows her eyebrows.

“I don’t remember stopping.”

Mulder smiles.

“You were dead to the world.”

Another beat of silence and she closes her eyes.

“Has Mitch talked to you since yesterday?” Mulder speaks again, and she groans.

“Sleep, Mulder,” she says irately.

“Luke,” he corrects her.

Another beat.

“Did Mitch say something to you?” she asks, and he huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Sleep, Scully,” he parrots, and she whacks him on the head with her pillow. “He gave me some really weird macho-man apology for ‘encroaching on my turf’ and now he’s trying his hand with one of the new girls, given that Maxie didn’t stay on.”

“Well, I guess I’ll choose to be grateful that he’s moved on instead of angry that being another man’s property means more to him than my lack of interest,” she says dryly.

Another beat.

“You’re not anyone’s property, Scully,” Mulder says, and she opens her eyes to find him looking at her, a tender expression on his face.

“I know,” she answers.

They each close their eyes, though she finds his proximity somewhat distracting. She can smell his sweat and hear his steady breaths. For the first time since the night before, she allows herself to think about that kiss, and the brush of his tongue. He didn’t have to do that for the sake of their audience—the act would have been just as convincing without it. But he did, and she can’t help but wonder why.

-

Mulder wakes to the snap of the trailer door closing and opens his eyes to see that Scully is gone. He slides to the end of the puny bed and pushes the curtain on the door to the side to see her walking away, and he takes the opportunity to openly leer at her jeans clad backside and her bare legs. He’d just about hugged Summer when she finally convinced Scully late last week that jeans were no longer practical in the heat, and convinced her to cut them off into shorts.

Last night feels like a lifetime ago, as many times as he’s replayed it in his head. The way she’d leaned into him when he broke away from the kiss, her lips parted in invitation. It was more than was necessary to put on a show for the onlookers, and his immediate conclusion was that it wasn’t for show at all. She’d wanted to kiss him, and had taken the opportunity to do so under the guise of their cover. But now she seems hot and cold, distant and flirtatious, flip flopping from one moment to the next. Perhaps she isn’t sure where he stands, and so as he steps out of her trailer into the full heat of the day, he resolves to make his intentions abundantly clear.

_

Scully is slinging her tool belt around her hips, loading it with the items she needs in order to resume assembling the rides.

Waking up in her trailer with Mulder beside her had been odd, but also nice. She’s always taken secret enjoyment in seeing him asleep, as scattered and tormented as he is in his waking hours. She’d even laid there quietly for a few minutes and watched him, prepared to snap her eyes closed if he woke up.

“Penny!” someone calls out, and she turns to see Jean approaching again. She feels an immediate swell of irritation that she carefully hides.

“What’s up, Jean?” she asks, not rudely, but not altogether kindly either.

“Can you swing by Tami’s office and see if you can get the A/C working? It keeps shorting out and it’s hot as balls in there,” Jean says, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Sure, I’ll go take a look,” Scully answers, her jaw set. Were she an actual employee of this establishment, she’d have half a mind to file a complaint about being taken advantage of by management.

When she arrives at the trailer that serves as Tami’s office, the door is propped open and a large box fan is set up on the tabletop directly in front of a very sweaty and very agitated Tami.

“Hey, Jean said your A/C isn’t working,” Scully says as she steps through the door, and indeed the air is stagnant and muggy.

“Thank fucking god,” Tami says as she gets to her feet. “It started blowing the circuit every few minutes earlier today. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but I can’t deal with this heat.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Scully says blandly as she crosses to the unit, and Tami makes for the door.

“Thanks, Penny. I’ll be over at the cook trailer, let me know when you’re done.”

Scully has no knowledge of air conditioners beyond the fact that they pull hot air from the room and push in new air over cooling coils, but she’s learned enough from working with Summer to know that if air flow is central to the way a machine runs, anything that blocks or slows that flow is likely to be a problem. She pops the grate off the front of the window unit and immediately sees the problem: the filter is completely caked over with dust and dirt. Knowing that the only fix needed is washing and thoroughly drying the filter, she steps over to the door of the trailer and softly closes it.

Tami is a neat person, and every surface of the trailer is clear and clean. Scully opens drawers and cabinets, finding them mostly empty or being used as storage for extra ride tickets and wristbands. Some of the lower cabinets in the kitchenette have been outfitted with racks for file storage, and she quickly leafs through forms and permits for each city on the carnival circuit dating as far back as 1992. Another cabinet holds employee files, which are mostly just original applications from when each member of the crew was hired. She considers taking them to look over later, but as organized as it all is, the risk that Tami will notice is too high. She flips past Penny and Luke’s applications, looking for Dylan’s. She finally finds it and scans through the details he provided regarding his brief tenure at Sonic, and later as a busboy at a diner. There is no document regarding his termination, much to Scully’s disappointment. Turning back to more recent documents, she finds Barry’s application and, taking a risk, she folds it up and tucks it into her tool belt. One missing document won’t raise red flags the same way a whole suite of them will.

She hears Tami’s laugh from outside the trailer and she quickly closes the cabinet, returning to the A/C unit and posing with the dirty filter halfway removed just as Tami comes through the door.

“How we lookin?” Tami asks, saying nothing about the door being closed.

“The filter is filthy,” Scully says, holding it up for Tami to see that it’s opaque with dust. “You just need to hose it off, maybe hit it with some soap, but make sure that it’s completely dry before you put it back. That should do it.”

Tami shakes her head incredulously. “You’re too damn smart, Penny,” she says fondly. “You coulda done a lot more with your life than this.”

Scully smiles thinly, hoping she doesn’t have occasion to demonstrate her medical knowledge and really leave them stumped.

“Happy to help. I better get back out there before Summer comes looking for me.”

–

“Some people call me Maurice,” Picker howls, and the rest of the crew answers with a wolf whistle as Steve Miller Band serenades them during dinner service.

The first night after set up is one of the few that the entire crew shares a meal, given that no one needs to hang back to run the rides or joints. It gives the added opportunity for the local help to meet everyone they’ll be working with, and the old timers to fill them in regarding what to expect from the customers in that particular locale.

“You grow up here, sweetheart?” Lenny asks Rachel, who nods eagerly. “Awe, I’m sorry, darlin’. That’s a crying shame. I ain’t never been to a town as uptight as Dadeville in all my life,” he finishes, and her face falls.

The group erupts into whoops and knowing smiles, and Rachel looks around with a confused wrinkle of her brow.

Miranda shakes her head and pats Rachel on the back.

“Don’t worry about it, Rachel,” she says kindly, and it’s the most emotion she’s shown since she arrived earlier that day. “They’re just saying that ‘cause of Sundays. Most places don’t close down on Sunday.”

“Oh,” Rachel says with a nod, like it all makes sense to her now.

“I ain’t complaining,” Lenny says, his hands held up defensively. “I always like Dadeville week cause we get a day off together. It’s my favorite week of the summer, truth be told.”

Scully stands in line for the grill holding a paper plate on which a bun sits dressed and ready for one of the burgers Mulder has been studiously monitoring. He’s shirtless again, much to her dismay, and as she steps up to receive her burger, she actively avoids following a bead of sweat as it runs down between his pectorals and pools in his belly button.

“You’re the cutest thing that I ever did see,” he sings quietly as he scrapes a burger off the grill and lays it gently atop her bun. “Really love your peaches, wanna shake your tree.”

He catches her eye and a flush of heat courses through her veins.

“Thanks,” she mutters, turning away abruptly and finding a spot at one of the picnic tables beside Madge.

“Spock, here boy,” Madge says in a pitch a few octaves higher than normal.

Near the cook trailer, a scruffy dog with an errant tuft of hair between his ears stands and looks at her hopefully. She tosses the remnants of her bun his way and he snatches it in mid air, wolfing it down in two big bites.

“Is that the stray from back in KC?” Picker asks around a mouthful of potato salad, and Madge shoots him a dirty look. Picker turns his head towards Tami, who is seated directly across from Scully, and gives her a significant look.

“I don’t wanna hear a word about it, Picker,” Tami says, holding up one hand to make clear that any commentary is unwelcome. “He snuck into the maintenance trailer, and I told her she could keep him for the week.”

Madge sticks just the tip of her tongue out and sneers victoriously at Picker.

“Are we not running on Sunday?” Scully asks, having caught only bits and pieces of Lenny’s conversation with Rachel.

“Not in Dadeville, we’re not,” Tami answers, balling up a used napkin in her hand. “Dadeville’s one of those Footloose kind of towns,” she explains. “No drinking, no dancing, and the place is a ghost town on Sundays. We make good money here because the poor folks are so deprived of anything resembling a good time they go balls to the wall when we’re in town, but unless we want to get run out or banned, we close on Sunday in Dadeville.”

Jean takes the seat beside Tami and plucks a leftover pickle off her plate, biting into it with an audible crunch.

“So what do we do that day?” Scully asks, already making plans to get to a payphone and find out if Skinner was able to uncover anything regarding Barry’s disappearance.

“First half of the day we do some deep cleaning and organizing,” Jean answers as she smashes her hamburger into a thin disc. “Second half of the day is kinda like…one of those team building seminars people go to, you might say.”

“A team building seminar?” Scully asks, flashing her eyes over to Mulder’s. “Are we going to make a pyramid out of plush?”

The old timers exchange glances, smirks pulling at the corners of their mouths.

“Something like that,” Tami says with a pop of her eyebrows, and Scully gets an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

“Is this seat taken?” someone asks just over her shoulder, and Scully turns to see Mitch with a plate in hand and a requisite smirk on his lips.

She opens her mouth to answer, but Summer pushes in around Mitch and sits down beside Scully, shoulder to shoulder.

“Motherfucker, it’s hot,” Summer grumbles.

“I was going to sit there,” Mitch says levelly, and Summer turns to him with an exasperated expression.

“Was being the operative word,” she says tartly, and Mitch’s nostrils flare angrily. He moves to the other side of the table and sits down next to Jean.

“How’s our fresh meat coming along?” Summer asks, leaning forward to address Rachel and Miranda who are at the other end of the table.

“It’s a lot of new stuff,” Rachel says with a shy smile, while Miranda just shrugs noncommittally.

“Eh, you’ll get the hang of it fast,” Summer replies with one of her megawatt smiles, showing off her turned-in tooth. “After dinner I can show you my fortune teller, maybe it will predict how your first week will go.”

“What the fuck?” Mitch barks, bits of burger flying out of his mouth. He chews and swallows hurriedly, following it with, “You won’t even let me come near that thing.”

Summer turns her head slowly back to him, then props her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her clasped hands.

“But there’s a very good reason for that, Mitchell,” she says, spitting out his name like it has a bad taste.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he asks haughtily.

“I don’t fucking like you,” she answers plainly, and Mitch drops his burger on his plate and then turns to Tami and Jean.

“You’re fine with her talking to me like that?” he asks incredulously, and Tami and Jean exchange a look.

“We hired her to fix the rides, Mitch,” Tami says, cool and unaffected. “Being nice to people she doesn’t like isn’t in her job description.”

Mitch stands abruptly, abandoning his plate and muttering, “Fucking cunt,” as he storms over to the cooler and begins digging around in the soup of half-melted ice and assorted beverages.

“I always know I’m on the right track when I get the C word,” Summer says, clearly quite satisfied with herself. Spock, who had been napping in the shade of the cook trailer, lifts his head and shakes it violently to scare off a handful of flies. “What in the absolute fuck is that dog doing here?” Summer asks, and Madge’s posture slumps a little.

“It’s just for the week, Summer, chill,” Tami says as she stands to leave.

“I thought we agreed not to travel with the strays,” Summer whines, and Jean flicks her wrist impatiently, already having heard enough.

“We all know how you feel about it, save your breath,” she says before she, too, leaves the table.

“What’s with the dog?” Scully whispers to Summer, and Summer steals a glance at Madge before answering.

“Nothing, it’s no big deal. Madge has a soft spot for stray animals and sometimes it gets out of hand. I just think we should leave them where they are in case anyone comes to claim them,” she says, but it’s clear that she’s downplaying just how strongly she feels about it. “You about done, Rachel?” she calls down the table, changing the subject. “Doraldina awaits!”

Summer and the new hires head off to check out the fortune teller, and Mitch returns to his plate and slides down the bench so that he is directly across from Scully.

“How’s your day going, Penny?” he asks with poorly feigned sincerity, and she mutters a platitude in response. “So you and Luke, huh?” he says, eyeing her curiously.

“Yep,” she answers, popping the p at the end of the word to indicate that she has no intention of elaborating.

“Are you two…exclusive?” he asks, leaning forward with one arm propped on the table in a clear attempt to show off his bulging bicep.

“Madge, why did we decide to grill when it’s ninety goddamn degrees?” Mulder complains as he sits down beside Scully. His arm brushes over hers, leaving behind a wet smear of his sweat that she wipes away with a grimace. “Do I offend you, Penny?” he asks playfully, bumping up against her.

“You’re all sweaty,” she says as she grabs a napkin and wipes off her arm again.

“And to think I slaved away over a hot grill to make you that burger,” Mulder says with a somber shake of his head.

“I wasn’t made aware that the price of my meal included being covered in another person’s sweat,” she replies, balling up her napkin and tossing it on the table.

“We do offer an alternative payment plan,” Mulder says, his eyes on his plate. “If you’re interested, that is.”

“I can confidently say that I am.”

He sets his burger down and turns his head towards her, his face inches from hers. His lips pucker, and he waits.

There’s that flush again, that hotter-than-ninety-degrees swell of adrenaline and something else that she can’t quite name. She can feel Mitch watching them expectantly, and knows that turning down Mulder’s offer will only egg him on. She swallows, then leans forward with her eyes open and presses her lips to his. One of his hands slides over the back of her neck and her eyes fall closed as he delivers a series of soft pecks and then one long, firm kiss to her lips.

“Get a room, you two,” Madge says fondly, and Scully breaks away, her cheeks flaming.

Mitch huffs an irritated sigh and scoops up his half eaten dinner, pitching it in the trash can on his way back to the boneyard. Spock yelps excitedly.

“Alright, alright,” Madge says as she slowly extricates herself from between the bench and the table. “Time for a walk.”

Scully stares at the weathered wood of the table top, afraid to look at Mulder. Afraid of what she might see in his face, of her own reaction, of the relentless throbbing between her legs.

“Hey,” he says gently, trying to catch her attention.

She stands, collecting her trash and preparing to get back to setting up The Viking. She’s just about out of earshot when Mulder calls out, “Penny!”

She turns back to look at him, sitting alone at the table.

“Midnight, in your trailer?” he asks hopefully, and she nods. “See you then,” he says, and his expression is just a bit wounded.

She stalks across the scorched grass of the fairgrounds, the taste of his sweat lingering on her lips.

-

Mulder takes a deep breath before raising his arm to knock on Scully’s trailer door. He’s freshly showered, and the temperature dropped considerably after the sun slid behind the horizon so he is decidedly sweat-free. Suddenly unable to remember if he put on deodorant, he lifts his arm and tucks his nose just beside his armpit before taking a deep sniff. The door snicks open and Scully regards him with an amused smirk.

“Fresh as a daisy,” he says bashfully, then holds up his offering for the evening. “Full disclosure: I didn’t make these, but Lenny said they’re the best concession in Dadeville,” he tells her, and she takes a small plastic bucket from his hand and steps aside to allow him in.

“Cookies?” she asks with a mix of surprise and delight, taking one out of the bucket before setting it on the counter.

Mulder takes a seat at the table, which has not yet been made up into a bed, and watches Scully take a careful bite from the cookie and then lean against the kitchenette counter as she considers it. She’s dressed in cotton shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt, her hair still damp from her shower.

He’s been trying to decide all evening what to make of her reaction to their kiss at dinner. He’d only offered an invitation and had been delighted when she accepted it, but the way she high-tailed it out of there immediately afterward was less than reassuring. Was it the audience they had in Mitch and Madge? Would she behave differently if he kissed her when no one was around to see it? But if he were to do that, they’d have to stop pretending that it’s only for their cover.

“Mmmm,” she hums, eyes closed, as she savors the cookie. He shifts a little in his seat.

“Good?” he asks, horrified that his voice comes out a bit higher than is typical.

“Very,” she says with a sigh, then opens her eyes.

“Oh, I was able to poke around in Tami’s trailer a little bit today,” she says, changing the subject.

She moves to the small locking cabinet near the door and pulls out Barry’s application and hands it to him. He scans it quickly and then looks up at her.

“Anything of interest?” he asks, and she pulls in a deep breath and nods, leaning back against the counter.

“He has a record, one that he disclosed,” she says on an exhale. “They hired him anyway, apparently.”

Mulder looks back to the document and locates the area where Barry checked “yes” under the question regarding whether he’d ever been convicted of a felony.

“Indecent exposure,” he reads off the page.

“For that to rise to the level of a felony, it wouldn’t have been an isolated incident,” Scully observes, and Mulder nods.

“I’d bet a yard that it involved minors,” he says, and Scully grimaces. “We’ll have to call this in to Skinner on Tuesday, but he probably knew before we did.”

They hold eye contact for a beat and he notices for the first time the music lilting from her little radio. The silence stretches on and becomes heavy, then awkward. He has to ask.

“Did it make you uncomfortable that I kissed you?” he tries, and she averts her eyes.

“It’s fine, Mulder,” she says hurriedly, turning away from him to secure the lid on the cookie bucket. “It has to be believable, right?”

“Right,” he repeats.

“So, Rachel and Miranda,” she starts, changing the subject. “Initial impression?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he stammers, thrown by her steadfast refusal to discuss what, if anything, is happening between them. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to either of them much.”

“Rachel seems sweet,” Scully says as she rearranges small items on the countertop, moving them to one end then the other. “Miranda is a bit reserved: it may be hard to get a read on her.”

“Sounds familiar,” Mulder quips, and she stills. “Hopefully we can do some digging on Sunday at the team builder or whatever it is. After we perfect the plush pyramid, anyway.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” she says, then turns to face him. “Listen, I’m exhausted, I think I’m going to get to bed.”

“Do you want me to help you—” he starts as he stands and removes the cushion that served as his back rest.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” she insists, taking the cushion from his hand.

He makes his way to the door and she follows him, clearly eager for him to leave. He stands just outside the trailer, looking up at her with a cushion clutched to her chest and an unreadable expression on her face.

“Are we—we’re okay?” he asks.

She pushes her mouth into an unfamiliar smile and nods.

“I’m just tired. Goodnight, Luke.”

“Night,” he says with a little wave, and the door snaps closed.

He turns away slowly, more confused than ever. Maybe he grossly misread things, or maybe she really is just tired. He starts across the boneyard toward the bunkhouse, lost in thought until someone steps out right in front of him.

“Jesus!” Mulder shouts at the same time the someone hisses “Fuck!”

“Sorry, Luke,��� Picker says, shaking his head as though disoriented. “I didn’t see you.”

“No worries,” Mulder replies, laying a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder.

Picker’s formerly white T-shirt is crusted over with dirt and he has a shovel resting on the opposite shoulder.

“Midnight gravedigging?” Mulder quips, and a flash of fear crosses Picker’s face before he laughs.

“You know me,” he says noncommittally, and Mulder quirks his head. “Have a good one, Luke,” Picker finishes, then continues on toward his trailer.

Mulder watches him walk away, noting a dark patch on the back of one of his shoulders. It’s too dark to tell what it is, but Mulder is certain that it’s not dirt.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[wickedwitchofthewilds]

Day 15: The Fae

Relationship: Isleth/Siobhan/Eirlys Rating: Explicit Word Count: 724 Tags: BDSM, pet play, spanking, collars, leashes

Read on AO3

Isleth never tells Siobhan that he loves her. She feels it in the bite of the supple leather collar he secures around her neck. In the way he reminds her that her name belongs to him and him only, and she cannot give it to anyone else. In the way silver eyes stare into green—his thumbnail digging into her lower lip—before checking her over to make sure she is still hale and whole and ready for whatever he may demand of her.

Her knees ached; the wood floor unforgiving as she knelt beside Isleth's legs. Long, slender fingers brushed through her hair, pointed nails lightly scratching her scalp, as he spoke to the others. The only indication that he remembered she was still beside him. He had demanded her silence for the evening. A quiet pet. Seen and not heard, something she was very familiar with and therefore very good at. Not a sound emerged from her even as the others crept closer, cooing at the pretty and well-trained pet he possessed. She didn't gasp or cry out as fingers pinched her nipples or snaked between her legs to test the readiness of her cunt. When one asked for her name, determined to steal her out from under Isleth, she felt the tiniest tug from the silver leash he held in his hand. A reminder to keep silent and allow him to navigate the particulars of dealing with his peers.

Only one seemed disinterested in touching her. A plump Fae—Siobhan was so used to everyone wearing a glamour that rendered them slim and petite as if that made them more palatable and attractive to others—thick thighs and ample breasts matching Siobhan's features. Silver chains dripped from the Fae's neck and draped across their bare bosom. A black high-waisted skirt that skimmed the person's ankles, had slits that exposed the edge of their belly, its softness calling to Siobhan. Their purple eyes dragged down between Siobhan's breasts and to her dripping cunt hidden behind a thatch of copper curls.

"I would like to see how you punish her," they said, the low, melodic voice reminding her of the soft kisses Isleth sometimes showered on her.

"She would have to do something worth punishing, Eirlys." Isleth glanced at Siobhan, eyes lighting up, waiting to see if she would rise to the challenge. His thumb pushed into her mouth and she gently nipped him. Her way of telling him what she wanted. He drew his hand back with an exaggerated hiss.

Eyes twinkling, he gripped the leash tighter and pulled her up and over his lap. A hand stilled her trembling thigh as she draped herself across his thighs, one hand gripping his pant leg. Isleth always gave her a way to communicate when she wasn't allowed to speak. A gentle tug on his pants leg, the silk smooth under her fingers, told him she was ready. Siobhan made sure her thighs were spread and her back arched in the hopes that Eirlys could see all of her.

The first smack made her jump, always did no matter how much she anticipated it, and she pressed her lips together to hold in her gasp. Siobhan was hyper-aware of the eyes on her as Isleth set a punishing pace. Excited gasps fell from painted lips that pulled back to reveal sharp teeth. Eyes focused on her reddening backside. She didn't see Eirlys and wondered if they had left, unsatisfied with what they saw, until a thick finger sank into her and Siobhan barely caught her moan.

"So well behaved, but I expect nothing less of one of yours," Eirlys said.

"Barely scratches the surface," he said, his next blow making tears gather in the corner of her eyes.

"Oh? Perhaps you would allow me a peek," Eirlys whispered, careful not to let the others hear.

A gentle tug on her collar told her that she needed to give an answer. She tugged his pant leg with such force she worried she might split the fabric and he chuckled.

"It has been quite some time since you visited, old friend. I'd be honored to host you for an extended visit," Isleth said. "I hope my hospitality is up to par."

"Oh," Eirlys murmured, sinking another finger inside Siobhan. "I imagine it will be quite improved."

[watermelonlipstick]

Dean’s Jeans 2

What better day to post a sweet little family oneshot than Mother’s Day? This is the same setup as Dean’s Jeans, just a different late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ. I already have bare-bones drafts of a few other installments for these cuties, especially considering this one got a little deeper than I had intended. Stay tuned!

Title: Dean’s Jeans 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5561

Summary: Spending the afternoon working on the driveway with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and nephew.

Warnings: fluff, some family angst, minor injury, little dollop of smut at the end

           It was a big day for driveways and garages.

           You had been sitting in the apron of Sam’s drawing loopy pastel paths with DJ and your eldest daughter for your youngest to roll her cousin’s old matchbox cars down, watching adoringly as everyone’s palms and knees got covered in chalk dust. When the concrete was relatively full and the older two started getting a little antsy, you decided to try to stave off any bored bickering ahead of time.

           “Babe, is our garage unlocked?” you called over to Dean where he was trying to snake an extension cord out of Sam’s front door and down the porch.

           “Should be. Why, what’s up?”

           “I thought maybe DJ could take Picasso here over to the park to break in her new bike.” You turned to your nephew, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. He was just barely starting to fill out around the delicate Winchester features that had made him such an angelic looking child, the angle of his jaw seeming to sharpen every day, growing rapidly though you might still be able to throw him over your shoulder in a pinch. Hopefully it was a sign that he wasn’t destined for the late puberty you knew had frustrated Sam so much when he was younger; at least he could have one gift from his other parent, lost otherwise to the wind without as much as a periodic birthday card. Not the time for that thought, you reminded yourself, refocusing on the child’s glossy hair, carbon copy of his father’s with sun-lightened tips this late into summer. Dean would’ve taken him to get a haircut about a month ago, but as you and Sam both reminded him: not his hair, not his kid. It made you smile and likely made Sam proud that at his age, where so many kids were rebelling against their parents, DJ didn’t mind looking exactly like his dad. Somehow you had a hard time believing Sam would want to rush that process of teenage rebellion along. “What do you think, Deej?”

           Your elder daughter squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him onto the driveway. “Please please? Maybe Sarah and Davey can come too.” Her inclusion of the Fiore siblings into the mix was smart. They lived between your cul de sac and the park and were pretty similar in age to DJ and your older daughter. You suspected she thought on some level that DJ was on the cusp of being too cool to hang out with his baby cousin, but hanging out with the Fiores as a group gave them a little more social grace. Hopefully she’d realize, as you had, that DJ absolutely adored her and would likely rather catch some flack from his peers than drift apart.

           “Yeah but I’m not carrying your bike up the hill if your legs get tired,” he grinned at his cousin, who immediately took off across the street to get her bike from the garage.

           Sam and Dean had to move their whole setup from in front of Sam’s garage door so DJ could get his own bike out, the step ladder, extension cord, and electric drill going into the lawn next to the rest of their project, the basketball hoop. He almost got to the end of the driveway, swinging his leg over the seat, before Sam stopped him. “Nice try. Helmet, please,” he called out after his son, who reluctantly dropped the mountain bike onto the pavement and trudged back into the garage to pull a sticker-covered helmet out of a box and throw it on his head. By the time he made it into the street his cousin had done the same, yelling out over her shoulder for you to Mommypleaseclosethegaragethankyou as she tried to pump petite legs to keep up.

           You were thankful that your youngest seemed to be fully engrossed in the chalk patterns on the driveway and hadn’t seemed to notice the other kids’ leaving, not interested in having an argument about whether she was too little or not to go with them alone. Trusting the older kids or not, she was small and curious in a way that led to her sometimes running off to explore, and you didn’t want to add that into the mix. After a while, she picked up the green again, moving up the driveway to draw a picture of a dragon and immediately swipe hair out of her face, covering it with fluorescent dust. She got to her feet, and the amount of colorful powder on her made you beyond thankful that it was Dean’s turn to give her a bath that night. Crossing the driveway in a few skittering steps, she wrapped herself around Dean’s legs, practically leaving a silhouette imprint of herself on his jeans as he ruffled her hair. The way they had worn out and lost much of their dye over the years highlighted the contrast.

           “Daddy, come look! It’s a dragon!”

           Dean and Sam exchanged a smirk and Dean winked at you. “A dragon? Sounds scary.”

           “No, he’s a nice dragon,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the driveway, leaving Sam to drill holes into the wood above his garage door.

           “A nice dragon, huh? What’s his name?” Dean asked, grinning as he let her lead him.

           “Maurice,” she said, so matter of fact it made you laugh out loud. Sam did too, pulling the drill out of the wall to keep from wiggling the holes. “Can you do the fire?”

           “’Course I can, princess. How big are we talking?” He eased down to sit cross-legged next to Maurice The Dragon, accepting when you offered him yellow and orange sticks of chalk. You leaned back in the afternoon sun with a lap full of matchbox cars listening to the radio Sam had brought out to the porch, the chalk scratching on the concrete, and the rhythmic drilling of holes into siding for a few minutes.

           “Dean?” Sam asked, backing down the step ladder.

           “Got it,” he answered, putting a little flair on a lick of fire that went around Maurice’s nose and handing your daughter the chalk. “I need to help Uncle Sammy for a minute but I can come right back, sound fair? Your mom is better at scales anyway.” The girl seemed to consider it for a second then pouted her lips out in agreement, tilting her head to the side just like her dad did all the time. Dean got up creakily and brushed off his hands on his back pockets, the orange joining the other stains like an abstract painting.

           “You guys need any help?” you called over to Sam, who was trying to stabilize the hoop with long arms and struggling a little bit to keep it balanced in the light wind, powerful muscles rippling in his forearms and impressing upon you how heavy it must truly be if even he was having trouble with it.

           “Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to Dean to suggest his brother help him hold it up. He did, grabbing one side and having to reach up to his tip toes to match Sam’s stretch.  They were both standing on a kind of bastardized stool Dean had thrown together for this purpose, a few planks of wood balanced on some huge cinderblocks that had been in the garden holding up one of Sam’s compost setups. “It’s just those 12 screws, holes should already be lined up.”

           You climbed up on the ladder with the drill, having to crane to reach over even with the added height. When the last was in, the Winchesters carefully removed their hands. Seeing that it didn’t immediately fall, Dean grabbed the bottom corner and tried his best to rattle it to no avail. “Good job, babe,” he said, lightly smacking your ass as you backed down the ladder.

           “Watch out,” Sam said over your shoulder, and you saw him walking backwards a handful of steps down the driveway, being cautious to avoid his niece and her drawings.

           “Dude, there’s no way you can—” Dean started, cut off by Sam taking a running jump and leaping into the air, catching the rim of the hoop like nothing and doing a baby pull-up on the metal.

           “Can what?” Sam cackled, punching Dean’s arm playfully as he dropped to the pavement. “Don’t be jealous, old man.”

           “Jealous of Sasquatch? You can practically reach it standing, Lurch.”

           “Yeah, okay. Let me know when you can get up there without a stool and a trampoline.”

           You were giggling as Sam and Dean started putting all their tools way when DJ’s bike came flying around the corner. Neither he nor his cousin were wearing helmets, and she was wrapped around his chest like a novelty monkey backpack, her legs circling his waist and her arms clinging to his neck. He had to arch around her to see, but you could tell from the half-block length away that he was saying something to her. By the time they got close enough to get reprimanded for the lack of helmets, or for one of their dads to ask where the other bike was, you could hear the crying.

           Sam crossed over to his son in long, purposeful strides, holding his handlebars so he could dismount without letting go of your daughter. “What happened?” he asked, taking the girl from DJ’s arms and smoothing her hair back with a soothing palm. As he turned, you could see the blood trickling down her raw knees and elbows.

           DJ was visibly rattled, trying hard to calm his breathing down and tensing his bottom lip when it began to quiver. “Davey and I went down that big hill and, she—she was going too fast, and, um, she fell—I, I told her we could practice later but these guys were saying only babies couldn’t do it, I swear I didn’t know she would—” and then his voice broke, fat tears finally breaking through and crashing down his face. Sam nodded to you and Dean, murmuring some comforting things to your eldest as he carried her up the porch steps into his house. At the exact same time as if practiced—that same rapid, implicit communication they’d had on hunts now used to coordinate hugging their children in tandem, you thought to yourself—Dean wrapped his nephew up in a big bear hug, cradling the boy’s head and sweeping his hand up and down his back.

           “Hey, come on, you’re okay. She’s okay, she’s just shaken up, kid. Shhh shhh shhh, hey, come on, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he hummed into DJ’s hair. He gave you a tight nod over the kid’s shoulder to keep drawing with your daughter. Only a few steps away, you could still hear him as he continued. “I’m so proud of you, Deej. Got her all the way home on your bike, that’s pretty badass.” He waited for a few moments of silence until his nephew caught his breath a little. “Probably scared you, right?” he asked, his voice low and calm as DJ nodded through tears into the growing wet spot on his uncle’s chest. “That’s okay, chief, I would’ve been freaked too.”

           You noticed he was rocking a little, almost like he did when he was trying to get the girls to sleep as babies, and it really emphasized the way that no matter how wise DJ seemed or whatever signs of puberty he might be showing, he was still a child, still the same baby you’d fallen in love with when Sam had gotten that call however many years ago. It took a few more minutes for the crying to subside to hiccupping breaths and seeming to sense that the moment had passed in some way, your baby girl grabbed your hand gently. “Mommy, is DJ okay?”

           “Yeah, sweetie. He was just scared for a minute.”

           “That’s why he needs a hug?”

           “Exactly. Everybody needs hugs sometimes.” Just as she had before when considering your ability to draw cartoon scales on a dragon named Maurice, she tilted her head and pouted in agreement. When you realized what she was about to do next you almost had to wipe a quick tear away yourself, watching her get up to hug DJ and sandwich him between herself and Dean.

           “It’s okay, DJ,” she whispered, the high tender pitch of her voice like one of those unsettlingly extreme medieval harmonies with her dad’s but so much sweeter, the bright welcome sting of lemon juice in a dense poundcake.

           A moment later, Sam came out onto the porch with his eldest niece. One of her knees was wrapped in gauze but the other and both elbows had what looked from the driveway like a collage of Spiderman band aids. Sam appeared to have a matching one on his forehead, and both of them were giggling, though her eyes still looked a little puffy and red.

           Dean looked up and turned DJ to see both of them, cradling the back of DJ’s head in one palm. “See? She’s okay, just needed a couple band aids.”

           Sam winked at his brother as he walked over and patted his son on the back, taking the band aid off his forehead as he went. “Buddy, we’re going to go grab the bike and your helmets. Is there anything else you think you left at the park?”

           His son shook his head up at his dad and leaned back from Dean’s embrace to rub his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he croaked.

           “Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” Sam asked, crouching down to a squat to look up at DJ. You had noticed he tended to do this in sensitive moments with all the children, trying his best to seem less looming. The first time you’d identified it, it made you a little sick to your stomach, realizing it likely wasn’t part of how inherently good he was with kids but because he knew what it was like to have an angry man towering over you. Thinking of it now had the same effect, especially compounded by the emphasis Dean had put on telling DJ he was proud of him even if his daughter had gotten hurt, that he too knew a protective kid was still just a kid.

           DJ sniffled hard once more, finally able to take a truly deep breath. “I didn’t wear my helmet home because I couldn’t see arou—”

           “Aw, DJ. No way am I mad at you.” Sam hugged his son and stood up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting both of you guys home safe. That was really smart, to get her on the bike with you like that.” You caught DJ’s tiny smile of pride at his father’s praise, watched it deepen a touch as Sam kissed his hair again. “So just the helmets and the bike?”

           He nodded and rubbed his eyes before peeking around Sam a little bit to see your daughter. “You’re really okay?” he asked, as though he didn’t trust the adults to be telling him the truth and would have to ascertain her safety for himself. You wondered if Sam and Dean would find that nice or insulting, that ultra-fierce, trust-but-verify loyalty.

           She nodded sort of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t listen about the hill, DJ.”

           “It’s okay.”

           The moment seemed a bit heavy for a half-second before Sam wrapped a big hand around your daughter’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Let’s go find that bike.”

           After helping Dean get his wheels back inside, DJ went up to his room. You had to resist the urge to follow him, cuddle up with him like you used to when he was small enough to tuck into your lap. If he wanted to be alone, he was old enough to decide that for himself. Dean put the rest of the tools and things from putting up the basketball hoop away and walked over to you where you were laying on the ground so your youngest daughter could trace your body with chalk.

           “I think we need a pick-me-up around here. How do you feel about i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m for dinner?”

           You smiled, knowing you only had a bit longer of these spelling secrets left as your baby got closer and closer to proficient reading age. “Works for me. I think we have 2 or 3 kinds in the garage freezer.”

           He smirked down at you. “Can you bring him over in about 15 minutes? They should be back by then.”

           You tossed him a thumbs up and watched him walk across the street, the way the denim draped around his bowed legs as he went.

           It was only five or six minutes later when Sam came up to the driveway, jogging alongside your daughter with DJ’s helmet in his hand. Of course Sam would know that she needed to get back on that bike right away, and of course he’d come up with something to make her laugh all the way home, even if that meant he had to run the entire distance on a late summer afternoon. He was slightly out of breath when he helped her dismount in the driveway.

           “My kid okay?” he asked, taking the other helmet so your daughter could go back to what was becoming a pretty spectacular chalk surrealist piece spanning the driveway.

           “He’s in his room, I think he will be. Your brother’s got a very Dean style plan for dinner in a few minutes if you’re hungry.”

           Sam looked down at his watch. “Yikes, I didn’t realize we were even close to dinnertime. Let me go wash my hands and grab DJ then we can go over together?”

           “Sounds perfect to me. And hey—Sam? Make sure he knows everyone thinks he did the right thing.”

           He nodded, and you watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallowed hard. Sam reached down and squeezed your hand, saying thank you without reopening the situation in front of the girls.

           They came out a few minutes later, Sam in a fresh t-shirt and DJ looking a little more cheerful coiled into his dad’s side. You bundled up the girls and walked over to your house, tipping your head in thanks as Sam opened the door. The girls were the first to see the spread and took off squealing into the kitchen, where Dean had effectively set up a tiny ice cream shop on your kitchen island. Sprinkles of all different kinds, those 3 tubs of ice cream you’d been right to remember were in the freezer, syrups and whipped cream and cherries and bananas and even chopped up peanut butter cups and Butterfinger bars from the stash Dean hid from the kids. He was already handing out bowls before you got into the kitchen.

           “Ah, ah! Hands need to be washed before anyone gets ice cream,” you insisted, shooting Dean a look of teasing reprimand.

           He rolled his eyes to your oldest daughter, sending her giggling conspiratorially to the kitchen sink. DJ, presumably having already washed his hands at his place, helped your youngest daughter reach by picking her up to the faucet when her sister was done. You crossed over to Dean, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his hands for inspection. “Babe, you’re literally covered in chalk.”

           “You should be happy about me getting some extra calcium,” he winked, sticking out his tongue at you as you grabbed his ass on the way to the sink. “Mrs. Winchester!” he said in a faux-scandalized voice.

           As you washed your hands Sam manned the ice cream scoop, doling out much bigger bowls than he would normally, seeming to know as Dean did that a little levity might help the events of the day pass faster. After all the kids doctored up heaping mounds of ice cream and toppings to beat the band, you and the Winchester brothers stood around the island while they piled onto the couch to find a movie they could all agree on.

           “How’s our champ?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

           Sam shook up a can of whipped cream as he spoke. “He’s okay. Just feels guilty, I think. He says he should’ve stopped her from going down the hill.”

           “You think any kid of hers would’ve let someone tell her she couldn’t do anything?” Dean ribbed, accepting the gentle elbow you hit his side with.

           “I know that, but you know what it’s like. I think once he sees she’s really okay and no one blames him then he’ll be fine.”

           “Poor guy. Feels like that Winchester ‘weight of the world’ thing must be genetic.” You were partly joking but also partly not and they both knew it, looking pitiful and pitying for a beat before trying to cover with smiles. “He’s a great kid, Sam.”

           “Pretty much feels like you guys raised him as much as I did, I should be thanking you,” he murmured, drawing a lattice of butterscotch syrup over his whipped cream.

           You snaked an arm around his waist and gave him a sideways hug. “No, we’re lucky you let us know him.”

           Sam bent over and pressed his lips to your hair. “Seriously, thank you. I’m—I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t, you know, I mean if we—”

           “Don’t strain yourself, Sammy,” Dean smiled affectionately, giving Sam a merciful out. “Tell you what, I sure wouldn’t have made it in damn Themyscira without you two around.”

           Sam chuckled down at the counter while you disentangled your arms. You took the chocolate sprinkles from in front of him and scattered a few in your bowl. “Themyscira? The hell is that?”

           Dean set down his ice cream exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes so hard he put a backwards bend in his spine, holding onto the island to keep his balance. “Babe. Themyscira. Home of the Amazons? Wonder Woman?”

           “Riiiight. I forgot I was married to such a dork.”

           “As long as you don’t forget how this ‘dork’ makes you screa—”

           “Dude, enough,” Sam groaned, exasperated. Dean waggled his eyebrows at you as his brother followed into the living room with the kids, taking the opportunity of temporary privacy to slip his tongue along your neck where it sloped into your shoulder.

           “Dean,” you hissed playfully, pushing his chest away from you. “They’re in the other room!”

           “You taste like chalk,” he smirked, before holding your gaze for a gooier beat than you would’ve expected. His eyes softened and he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me—letting us—take that, today. I know you’re better at the Mommy Dearest stuff or whatever, but it sometimes feels like, ah, getting a redo?” He cleared his throat where it had gotten a little thick. “You know, um, like proving that it doesn’t have to be the same?”

           It was a specific vulnerability he doesn’t often let you see, but you could tell by the softness both he and Sam had with all the kids, how they beat themselves up for days if they raised their voice for even a second, that they both thought about it all the time. In so many ways they were still those same little boys who wished they could’ve drawn on driveways with their parents, that their dad could’ve given them Spiderman band aids and told them everything was going to be okay.

           He didn’t have to explain further, and you gripped his hand to tell him so. “They needed you two, not me. For what it’s worth, I think you guys were a pretty great team today.”

           Dean smiled, and it was almost like the sleepy thankfulness he had on those nights when he got home and you’d charitably done a couple of his chores for him. He closed his eyes in invitation and you leaned forward, meeting his lips with the smell of ice cream in the air. “So come on, Super Dad. Let’s go watch a movie with these great kids everyone keeps talking about.”

           The ice cream had gotten put back in the freezer immediately to keep it frozen, but the toppings had all been left out during School of Rock. Sam and DJ had left a bit after the movie, playing a round of LIFE that had been pretty ambitiously started, considering the time, and ultimately abandoned when all the kids’ yawns started to sync up. You came downstairs after trading with Dean for bath/shower duty to get out of cleaning up all the sticky dishes, the girls falling asleep too quickly for a bedtime story after you’d made sure they were thoroughly scrubbed clean and any wet gauze was replaced.

           He was rinsing some bowls in the sink, the majority of the toppings slid to one side of the now wiped-down island. You sauntered up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Your jeans are still covered in chalk,” you sighed into his neck.

           “Your kid was practically using them as a napkin, so I’m not surprised.”

           “Like father, like daughter.”

           You felt the rumble of his laugh through your chest where you were pressed up against his back. “Can’t argue with that. They asleep?”

           “You’d think I drugged them.”

           He chuckled again, putting down the last bowl in the sink and shutting off the water before drying his hands on a dishtowel deliberately. When he turned around, his face was inches from yours. “Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was as smooth and silky as any caramel drizzle you could’ve eaten that night. You nodded into a smile as Dean slid a washing-warmed hand to the nape of your neck and wound into the hair there, pulling you into him where he leaned against the sink and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like maraschino cherry and chocolate and you pushed up into his kiss hard, jamming him into the counter in a way that made him groan into you, tug that hair tighter. “Careful, baby. Been thinking about scandalizing the mother of my children for hours,” he growled, smirking through a voice rough like the sandpaper calluses of his hands.

           You bit his bottom lip and dragged it back, leaning away from Dean just enough to reach over to the island behind you, finding the whipped cream and starting to shake it fast. “That’s funny, because I’ve just been thinking about sundaes,” you purred into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before tipping back. Dean’s eyes practically glittered as his pupils blew wide. His shirt was off so fast you almost didn’t see it, feeling like you blinked and opened your eyes to him already yanking his belt open to shuck off those chalk-covered torn jeans. Before he could, you turned over the whipped cream on top of his collarbone, dripping a stream of white foam down his chest and letting it drift for a second, melt down his skin then lapping it up with a tongue flattened wide.  You shook the can again, draping a strip onto Dean’s stomach that trailed to his belly button and laying a palm on his chest, leaning him back to the counter on his elbows to watch as you licked the whipped cream with lazy swirls until you were at the hem of his boxers, sinking to your knees and taking them down his legs along with his now-opened jeans. He was already hard as rock when you took him in your palm, laying one last spray of whipped cream along the length of him and humming in delight at the “holy shi—” that punched out of Dean and fizzled into the ether when you sucked it off.  

           It was only a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, bending down to kiss you rough and dirty, tongue darting out to get the little dribbles of cream around the corners of your mouth and dragging you to your feet. With one hand Dean flicked open your jeans, using the freed slack to dive into your panties, middle finger dipping into you as he held your jaw with the other palm. He breathed hot and sticky along your jugular. “Not even close to how wet I want you.” The viscous pour of his words onto your neck sent goosebumps spreading over your skin in a delicate fan and you couldn’t help but smile as he scooped under your thighs and lifted you easily onto the island, slipping the denim off your legs as the same time he stepped out of his. You relaxed onto your elbows, watching those long eyelashes drift open and closed as his kissed a path down your abdomen, gripping handfuls of your t-shirt to get to skin. A lazy hand offered Dean the can of whipped cream.

           The smirk he gave you, bare shoulders between your thighs as he kneeled on the kitchen floor, might as well have been through a time machine for the way it made you see the cocky playboy you’d first met over a decade ago, before the faint wrinkles of years in sunny cars and staying up nights with colicky babies that accessorized his big doe eyes now. It had the same effect on you in a t-shirt that was older than DJ as it had when you were pounding through shots with eyeliner artfully smudged by the power of hangovers: pooling all the blood in your stomach and making you lightheaded. He slowly bit his bottom lip. “You taste way too good to be adding anything,” he rumbled, and when you threw your head back in a shaky laugh his tongue reminded you exactly why smudged-eyeliner girl was ready to drop her independence, jump in the Impala and follow that mouth to the end of the world.

           Dean built the earth up and cracked it into pieces beneath you twice perched on that kitchen island before grabbing the counter edge to haul himself up. “Were these tiles always so fucking hard? Feel like I just took a hammer to the kneecaps.” He shook out each of his bare legs, spring of his erect cock as he did looking silly and out of place with the glisten of his lips and chin, the sultry cast of his eyelashes on angled cheekbones. The juxtaposition made you laugh, breathy as it was with muscles that had been turned to jello, thrown in a blender, and scattered about the room by the deft movements of Dean’s tongue and fingers.

           “You’re thinking about your knees right now?”

           “That’s how hard these fucking tiles are,” Dean chuckled, deep and still sexy somehow, bending forward to catch your lips. When you reached down to stroke him, a hand wrapped around your wrist. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he murmured through kisses, a shade of playful challenge in his throat.

           You giggled, leaning back as he dragged a wet path of suction down your neck. “I don’t want to torture those legs, old man.” Running a hand through hair you’d sent spiking in all directions in your writhing, you dragged Dean’s head back on his neck, giving you a chance to meet his eyes, still the same dusted olive they’d been since that first wink. Long past the honeymoon stage when it was appropriate to do that kind of thing, you’d been content to spend hours searching them, cataloguing every spindly muscle of iris for posterity, trying to gather up every grain of him for when he inevitably was lost forever to a hunt or the solitude of the road.

           But here he was still.

           Here you were still. Living a life—living two selves—you never thought you’d get, lucky to have grown in and around each other like mangrove roots. Those eyes still every inch as beautiful, every spark of that electric heat still there now cloaked in layer after layer of what you’d built together: the complete trust and fanatical admiration he had of you flowing out like fountains of sunlight, strong enough they streamed through any raunchy waggle of his eyebrows.

           No time to think about it now with a hungry coil of desire tightening in your stomach. You traced the length of him with your fingertips, feather-light and teasing. “If you give me fifteen seconds to get my sea legs back I’ll show you who’s got tougher knees.”

           “All right, that’s it,” Dean said. He tipped his head forward and bit your bottom lip with that impossible pressure that made you whimper. “I’ll show you how old these knees are.”

           Before you could react, he’d put his shoulder below your sternum and thrown you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When you squealed he smacked your ass. “You’re going to wake up the girls,” he buzzed, starting toward your bedroom without a stitch of clothing on, you draped over his back.

           “Dean, Jesus Christ,” you giggled. “Get the clothes at least!”

            “Don’t need any jeans for what I’ve got planned—quit—squirming—or I’ll give you something to squirm about,” he continued, lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper and giving one of your upper thighs an impish bite as he headed up the stairs.

-

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[faeribuns]

perhaps it was the way his eyebrows were furrowed that gave out his concern, but levi seemed troubled. the male stamped a serious expression on his features, contrasting with the usual stoic and nonchalant look he often wore in different situations. but he had a weakness, oh he truly had. and it also came with a name and a pretty cute face. “don’t look at me like that,” levi sighed, lifting a hand in order to idly play with the female’s delicate pink locks. he was worried, but also somewhat pissed off for not knowing the reason why she had such a tormented look in her bright, big doe-like orbs. levi always admired fae’s eyes; it was like watching the late afternoon sky when the sun was slowly hiding over the horizon, full of colors and shades he never imagined it could belong to this world. it was truly beautiful, something the male could stare at for hours, intrigued, fascinated. “what’s bothering you, my fairy?” he inquires, dragging his fingers over her pink cheek, stroking the smooth skin. levi wasn’t the best at comforting people, no. in fact, he was the type to hit them with a reality check, sometimes a fatal blow against sensitive people. such behavior wasn’t the most appropriate, but it was something he couldn’t help. levi liked competency.

however, that very moment wasn’t time to sharpen his tongue with petulant come backs. the person he treasured the most in his life was unwell, and the male knew what to do in order to comfort her fragile heart. his arms gently snake around her middle, giving fae a soft back hug. levi wasn’t the tallest man, but he was still taller than the petite. his toned arms enveloped the dainty frame of her body, ever so carefully, fingers linking in order to keep her around his embrace. levi wasn’t the talkative type either, but around fae, the words just flowed as if everything in the world made perfect sense. “it breaks my heart to see you like that. your lips were made to hold a smile, preferably pressed against mine.” he murmured in his usual serious tone, gentle resting his chin against her shoulder, mouth brushing over the shell of her ear. “whatever put you in such mood, I’ll fucking make it regret. no one hurts my girl, no fucking one.” the threat comes as a whisper, but he was definitely not joking. levi rarely joked and when he did, it’d always sound serious and intimidating.

despite not being the most muscular, levi was more than capable to lift his girl around his arms in bridal carry style, with the back of her knees carefully pressing on his arm while he held her firmly around the waist for extra support. at that particular moment, their eyes met. their eyes would constantly meet since he adored to get lost into those beautiful shiny orbs. and every single time, without failure, his lips were drawn to hers until they met for a kiss, a loving press full of adoration and devotion for each other. there was nothing levi wouldn’t do to protect fae, to make her feel whole again, to make her happy. hell, he would slaughter every single titan that ever dared to breathe few meters away from her without hesitation, risking his life for her sake. that was the type of man he was. unconditionally devoted. unquestionably in love. levi never hid his feelings for fae either, on the contrary: he was open and even daring enough to pull her for a kiss in the middle of conversations he would have with other men. the world had the obligation to know that she belongs to him, solely and exclusively.

levi took fae towards the temporary bed he was staying, making his body crawl on top of hers while maintaining the intense eye contact. it was lovely how she would blush and attempt to hide her pink glowing cheeks, but the male was determined to not miss a single glimpse. “don’t hide from me, I spend hours away and now that we finally get some free time together, I think I deserve every second.” he admits boldly, touching her small hands with his bigger palms, gently pinning them both against the mattress before intertwining their fingers together, preventing her from having them close to her face again. he could watch how pink her face was, lips plump and glossy, forcing him to resist the urge to abuse them with rough and needy kisses. levi was gentle with fae, but his nature was to be rough and impatient to possess his significant other. in a sexual situation he’d be pounding her to tears, but he’d save that for later. her safety and well being was more important than his physical needs.

“tell me about your day.” he asks in a quiet, yet endearing voice. that surely didn’t sound like usual levi, but a side of his heart that only fae had the privilege to see. shifting to a different position, levi settles beside her on the king sized bed, placing his arms around her while his body fits against hers like a puzzle, cuddling her frail body, resting his chin on top of the crown of her head. having the female around his arms brought him inner peace, a comfort he was unable to describe. he never thought he was capable of nurturing such an intense love for another, but ever since she entered his life levi knew she was going to become his forever. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself in my absence. I need you to promise me that or I won’t be able to focus on my job. promise you’ll always wait for me, that you’ll always love me. because I already devoted my heart for the only woman in my life, the one I wanna spend the rest of it with.” his words come out firmly, determined to make her feel that he meant every word.

he could tell she was gradually falling asleep in his arms, so he ceased talking for the time being in order to press a firm kiss on the side of her forehead. levi held his fae for hours during her deep state of slumber, despite being unable to fall asleep himself. it didn’t matter though. he had everything he ever needed right there with him and he was more than willing to fight for that happiness, for a safe future full of hope and dreams beside the owner of the key of his heart.

[drreidfics]

Dr. Reid and the Broken Girl pt1.

DR. REID AND THE BROKEN GIRL (Working Title)

Characters : SpencerReid x FemReader

Warnings : Abuse, Hints of Self Harm.

CAUTION // TW // THIS BOOK DEALS WITH MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, SEXUAL ASSULT, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE. IT ALSO INCLUDES A LOT OF RATED-R MATERIAL. IF THIS IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ.

Here I am again, on the floor, begging him to stop. There he is again, laughing at my pleas and forcing himself inside of me. Almost every night he climbs into my bed, then in the morning, he pretends everything is normal. When anyone is around, he acts charming. He is able to trick everyone into thinking everything is fine. Well, it's not.

My phone buzzed to life at the side of me. The alarm was going off but I had been up for hours, staring at the flecks of dust dancing around the air. The sunlight streamed in through my thin, white drapes. It was beautiful out. It was the middle of May and bound to be hot out in Arizona. I could feel the warmth on my skin already. I needed to shower and get all this sticky sweat off my skin. It wasn't even mine. I felt disgusting. His touch lingered everywhere on me. The bruises he gave me stained my skin more than the self inflicted cuts.

'Morning Ms. y/l/n. Last night was lovely. See you at lunch?'. It was a text from Mr Reid. He was my psychology professor. Older than me, at thirty, he had long dark hair and deep brown eyes. His hair curled slightly at the end. He was tall and slim. Smart and nerdy, having two degrees and a doctorate, he left his job at the FBI for something less mentally draining. He had worked there since he was twenty-two.  I was twenty-one making our age gap quite small. Look at me, trying to convince myself that it even mattered. He was a lovely guy. Friendly, and handsome. He wouldn't fall in love with a student, and if he did, that student would never be me. He was too smart for that.

"Morning Dr. Reid. Thank-you for taking me. It was a fun eve! Yes, see you at lunch. We can have a chat about the stuff we saw yesterday =)". I read the message over and over again before hitting send. I was nervous as I usually always say stupid things. My low self esteem affected me very much. I was twenty-one, already with one degree and going back to do another. I was still living at Sharon's and I haven't had a boyfriend. He texted me back instantly.

"Can't wait! Need a lift to school? =)" I smiled down at my battered iPhone 6. I couldn't afford a brand new phone. I was lucky in that I only had to work a few hours a week at the local book store and that it was something I enjoyed doing. Sharon was good to me. She helped me pay for and make my way through college. I don't know what or where I would be without her. On the other hand, she brought the human spawn of the devil into my life.

"No thnx, Luna is picking me up =)" I sent but then instantly regretted it. I love my best friend but I would have preferred a ride with Dr. Reid. Our conversations were always interesting and insightful. We could talk about a wide range of subjects for hours and it would only feel like minutes passed.

"Ok, see u soon Y/N"

I smiled, almost forgetting my problems before catching glimpse of myself in the mirror. My fragile, battered body stared back. I sighed. He could never find a girl like me attractive. Not that it mattered anyway. Silly little girl crush.

After debating whether it was best to just find the nearest bridge in town and throw my self off or get ready for school (I am very mentally unwell), I decided on the latter. Luna had already texted me to inform me that she was about to set off. Knowing Luna, which I have had the pleasure of knowing for fifteen years (no sarcasm in there), ten minutes would be ten years.

I staggered down the dreaded stairs, almost losing my footing a few times, feeling light headed. I entered the brightly lit kitchen. It was so bright that I could feel an aching behind my eyes. The decor was simplistic, all white with gold features. Classic business mom who is never home asthetic going on.

       Sharon sat at the island, face absorbed in her laptop. She was in her late forties with short, mousey hair. I believe she would be referred to as a 'Karen'. She looked nothing like Dom. She was short, like me, and fairly slim. He was tall and muscular with broad shoulders. Quarterback star player with the strength to show for it. He could snap us both in half. Dominic is Sharon's only child. Yes, that is correct. She is not my mum. I lost her.

Sharon looked up at me, flashing me a warm smile, still bashing the keys to her MacBook. She took a sip of her black coffee, nibbling on some cold toast. "You look like shit" she stated; matter of factly, her face blank.   '"Thanks?'" I answered with a raised eyebrow. I walked over to the coffee machine and put in a pod, sticking my travel cup underneath. 77Kcals of goodness. All the fuel I will need this morning. "Sweetheart, don't act like that. You know I'm just saying. You need to sleep more" '"I know" I sighed. It was true... "But that makes two of us" I retorted cheekily with a grin.        "Oh sweetheart, don't I know it" she raised her cup as if toasting the comment before gulping the last bit of coffee.

Sharon was my guardian, though not anymore as I was an adult and of drinking age. She still cared for me though as if I were her own. My mom died when I was seven and my dad had a breakdown. He couldn't cope. One day I came home from school and he was gone. He didn't say a word to anyone. He packed up his stuff and  left me. I hated him for a while. The anger within me burned to my core. After a while I felt sympathy. He didn't get the help that he needed. If he did then we both wouldn't be in this mess. We'd be happy - together. I doubt he would know how to contact me now.

Aunt Sharon took me in. She wasn't really my aunt, she was my mom's best friend. She was the only connection to my mother that I had left besides her wedding ring. She loved her dearly and I believe she loves me dearly too. It's not her fault she can't protect me. She works herself to death trying to help me live my dreams. Dom wasn't the child that she had always wanted. He is doing nothing with his life. That is something I will alway's respect of her, single mom raising her child and somebody else's.

I loved her, though she did have the tendency to dish out tough love which often was way - way too harsh. And she was always away leaving me with him. I knew that if I'd only just tell her what he was capable of... What he would do to me when she left... She'd have murdered him herself with her bare hands. But it would kill her. I couldn't do that to her. He was the only thing she had who was blood. Me, I had no-one.

"shit! Is that the time? I'm going to be late. I gotta go, honey. Say bye to Dom for me." she pleaded as she stuffed the last slice of toast in her mouth and gathered her briefcase and her keys. " ...And make sure you have something to eat. You're wasting away!"                                   "Have a good day at work Shaz" I shouted after her. I doubt that she heard me. She was out the door in seconds, jangling her keys and fighting between speaking with me and the ringtone on her work mobile. I heard her professional, scripted 'Hello, Sharon Cormack speaking' as the door slammed behind her.

I made my way through the spotless kitchen Gina, Sharon's housekeeper, always did a good job. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the integrated refrigerator. I also grabbed my iced latte from the coffee machine. It was almost half eight. My first classes start at nine and Luna still wasn't anywhere in sight. I scrambled through my purse for my phone, ready to give her a piece of my mind. That girl would be late to her own funeral.

"You're up early" a voice from behind me sneered. It took all my might to not to curl up in a ball, trembling.

"I... I have school"

No reply. I felt him creeping up behind me, felt his breath against my neck.

"I can think of something much better to do with the day baby"  he whispered as he planted acid kisses on my neck. It burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, putting my hands up defensively. He pushed my back into the counter. A sharp pain ran though me.

"Please stop. I have to go" I whispered as his hand snaked its way up my neck, fist knotting tightly in my hair.

'"Why do you think a whore like you has the right to tell me what to do, hm?"

'- Hello? Katy?'  Luna's smooth voice called out in sing song.

Oh, thank god for her and her timing. He released me from his grasp and increased the distance between us. His eyes were clouded. I could tell he was pissed. I brushed passed him, running towards Luna, who was standing by the open door. I ran straight into her arms hugging her tightly.

"I thought you'd never show." I whispered. She rested her chin on my shoulder, stroking my hair. I could tell that she was staring daggers at Dom and I could tell he didn't care. Like I said, the same routine. Every morning.

By the time lunch rolled around I had had enough. had gotten into a lot of trouble with Ms. Hallows over an overdue assignment and I had spilt water all down the front of my jeans. It looked like I had pissed myself. My saving grace is that they were dark jeans and so it wasn't too noticable. That didn't stop Georgie from laughing and calling me pissy pants for half the day.

Georgie was the kind of girl that you would avoid in high school. Everybody wanted to be her but everyone hated her so bad. She had golden brunette locks, a slim face and a petite nose. Her friends Nova and Ari were just as bad. Everyone used to tell you that when you left high school things would be different. I am sorry to inform you that they don't. Bullies stay bullies forever.

I forced my way through the groups of students, crowded together in the corridors. The last thing I wanted was to be late for my chat with Mr. Reid

"Y/N" I heard Luna calling after me. I could tell that she was chasing me through the crowd of students.  "Y/N. Look, Y/N stop." I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped. I could see the hurt in her eyes. She leaned on the wall, panting. I sighed. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?" I asked. I felt bad for snapping at her. All she wanted was answers, like anyone would have after walking in on what she did. But I don't give answers. I shut down. I don't tell anyone anything. She tried talking once we got in the car. I ignored her and I ran once we'd arrived at school. She didn't even need to speak. I could just tell what she wanted to talk about from the look on her face. I sighed again.

"Luna, I can't talk about this right now."  I saw the hurt in her eyes. If I kept pushing her away then eventually she wouldn't fight to stay. 'Good', a small voice whispered in my head. Maybe that would be for the best. She deserves better. Everyone does. I could just end my life today and nobody would care. I used to fight hard against the suicidal ideations that entered my mind but now I didn't see the point.

"I have my meeting and I can't be late. Taco Bell after classes?" I asked. To my relief, she smiled and nodded, that beautiful smile that I loved so much. She was so easy to please. I smiled and walked away towards room 1980. Dr. Reid's office.

"I love you!" she shouted after me smiling.

"I love you more!"

"Lesbians" Georgie mocked. She was stood near the bathrooms. I rolled my eyes.

"Grow up"

Luna was gay but we weren't together. We had been intimate a few times but nothing had come of it. But so what if it had? We both agreed it felt weird as we had known each other as friends for so long. We didn't want to ruin anything. Luna and I had been friends ever since she opened up my juice box for me in kindergarten and then hit the girl who had stolen my straw. We had been inseparable ever since. She's been with me through thick and thin. I'd hate to think where I'd have been if she hadn't been there when my mom had died. We are and will alway's be the best of friends. In another life I could see us growing old together, adopting puppies and children but sometimes, it doesn't work out. And if you love someone, you have to let them go.

I opened the door to 1980 and as soon as I did my heart fluttered in my chest. There he was, as beautiful as ever. He looked up from the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose and smiled, he seemed glad to see me.

"Sweetie!" he said, a smile spreading across his gorgeous lips. He's the only person who calls me that.

"Dr. Reid"  I smiled back. My smile was huge and I probably looked so dorky but I don't care. My day just got brighter. I pulled up a chair next to him and kicked my feet up onto his lap. He rested his hand on my calf.

"So what did you think to the book?"

[courtlyharlequin]

🌙 AAHH!! This event is so adorable! Congratulations on the milestone! Can you please make my request have a spooky vibe? "Floyd ran up to me enthusiastically and pulled me into an embrace. I stiffened out of instinct and fear, feeling a desire to escape his grasp and run away." I admit, I'm a bit scared of Floyd.

Leviathan

Warning(s): Nudity (nothing spicy but just in case that’s not up someone’s alley), poor attempt at spoopy content, open-ended ending, implied death

A/N: Thank you so much anon! I changed “ran” to “swam” though so I hope that’s alright with you. I enjoyed writing this so thank you for requesting~ I got carried away though… oops.

A/N²: This would make sense if you read the prologue to this event.

With every step you took, you huffed and puffed your chest in a futile attempt to outrun the ambiguous figure cloaked by the forest’s mist. You were certain that you had collided with something, but when you regained your composure, not a single soul was present. Just you. You had heard a voice ask you, “Are you lost, little lamb?” with an eerie voice. You couldn’t be mistaken. Those words were audible and the speaker was nearby. You were sure of it and yet, here you are– shrouded in a thick fog, all alone.

Being all alone is not a problem as it is an inconvenience, but being all alone in a forest filled with god knows what- and at night no less- was a sticky wicket to put it lightly. Yes, your arrogance was partly to blame, but there was no time to dwell on such trivial matters regarding your concerns about a white rabbit. No, no! You had to find a safe haven, a sanctuary of some sorts, somewhere to take shelter and rest your sore limbs. Judging from your drowsiness and the position of the moon, it was an absurd hour– late, late, late into the night. You were famished. Parched too. You wanted to collapse onto the dirt path at this very moment, but the thought of being eaten alive by wild beasts revolted you enough to go onward.

After an eternity of you aimlessly wandered around the intricate arrangement of tree trunks and foliage, you came across a clearing. The mist was heavier and the smell of petrichor was dominant. Water! There must be water here. You followed the path, leading you to a body of water, a loch as people around this area would call it. You sighed in relief.

As you walked up to the shores, you stared into your reflection. A sight for sore eyes, you were. Worse for wear, but relieving nonetheless. The image of yourself offered solace. Crouching down on the banks of the loch, you cupped the murky waters into your petite palms and gulped down every last drop, leaving you breathless when you finished. The sensation of your thirst being quenched by the cool liquid was refreshing, but insatiable. You reached for the loch once more, but stopped midway.

Crunch.

“Who’s there?” you yell over your shoulder.

Silence. Then a growl. Your muscles tensed. You pulled your hood closer to your face. You stood up to peer into the woods. Glowering amber eyes met yours. A growl matched those distinct features. Biscuits. Just when you’ve found some peace and quiet. There was nothing to fend against them. You steadily bent down to grab your basket. The only plan you had in mind was to make a run for it. No destination in mind. Simply the desire to see the sunrise and nothing more. Feeling the stiff fibers of the handle, your grip tighten onto the handle. You closed your eyes. You inhaled, digging your heels into the soil, preparing to spring up from your squatted position and run as fast as your legs could carry you.

But to your surprise, danger emerged from the waters as something terribly slimy wrapped itself around your left leg. You yelped, turning around to meet a cryptid, a serpent with humanoid features. His eyes were mix-matched, holding a hazed yet crazed expression. His (to lightly put it) abnormal features striked sheer terror in your bones. With wild beasts racing towards you and a snake-like monster attached onto your leg, the only option was to the sides. Your efforts were futile, however; there was a death grip locking you into your place, pulling you back. Resistance prevented you from falling into the water, but you fell flat on your face. You hissed on impact. Grabbing the rock and soils that lined the loch banks, scrambling like a feline in water, you tried to break free.

Your voice cracked, “Help. Someone help me!”

Deep down you knew no one would come for you. You were alone before. You will die alone as you are now. You let go of the shore, letting the serpent drag you into the lake. A cold rush washed over your languid figure as you sank. What a fine night. The moon was lovely, shining brightly over the loch. The serpent’s body was still coiled around your shin. It was thick and slimy, sending shivers down your spin every time you kicked your legs around. To your surprise, the coil loosened. Although, you didn’t have time to swim away– let alone catch your breath.

The cryptid was a fast swimmer. It was right before your eyes now. Everything was so clear. From its facial features- sharp jawline and strong cheekbones, you assumed the creature was male. That, or his upper body being well defined [humanoid] muscles being a dead give away. Aside from his abdominals, he had hair. It was a darker color than his complexion with a black fringe to the left of his face. He also had the fins, claws, pointed ears, and all– like any loch monster. He had a tail too. Ah yes, the tail. A very long tail that resembled that of a sea snake though the color of it said otherwise. What kind of sea snake was turquoise? Of course, that was not your main concern.

It was the look in his eyes.

He, indeed, had mix-matched eyes. One was a faint yellow, illuminating the dark waters. The other was a stormy gray. They bore into your soul as if they were searching through every inch of it for your deepest, darkest secrets. He reached for you.

In response you swam backwards, distancing yourself from him which only resulted in him swimming towards you and firmly grabbing your small figure by the shoulders. His deranged expression kept you in place.With the last of your breath fading away and your limbs giving into fear and fatigue, you closed your eyes and prepared yourself for the worst.

Instead, something warm graced your lips. This sensation stirred butterflies in your stomach. You gasped, finally able to catch your breath yet they immediately returned to the heat source. It was addictive, more refreshing than a breath of air. It was– Hold on a minute…!

Your ears fluttered open to the sight of the loch monster kissing you. His eyes were closed too. His nose was scrunched due to the awkward angle he claimed your lips at. The intimate act was rough, forced even, but he cupped your cheeks tenderly while also keeping you afloat. Your eyes widened, wriggling out of his grasp, kicking yourself away from him. He followed you once more.

Raising a hand, you slapped him. He hissed.

“You monster!”

“Sure are feisty for someone who was just drowning a minute ago,” he mumbled, rubbing his cheek, “Not even a thank you.”

“You– I can breathe? Underwater. Holy hell, I can breathe underwater!”

He circled around you, now by your shoulder. His tail was loosely coiled around your person due to the circular motion he swam him. You were worried he might devour you, but paid no mind to it.

“I should’ve just left you to the wolves.”

“What a rude loch monster you are.”

“Eel.”

“What a rude eel you are.”

“I have a name yanno.”

“Right then, Mr.Eel, what do you call yourself?”

“Floyd, Floyd Leech,” he said.

“Charmed. I’m (y/n)(l/n), Please to make your acquaintance. Thank you for saving my life.”

You did your best to bow, but the water had a will of its own, lurching you forward. To counter, you failed your legs around to swim backwards. Floyd’s tail tightened around your thighs to pull you back.

“Imma call you Shrimpy. You swim backwards just like a shrimp.”

“Then I shall call you a lake monster.”

“Do you want to die?”

His sudden inquiry stopped you mid kick. His tail squeezed your legs together, slowly making its way to your stomach. You coughed at the pressure, trying to pry his appendage away from you.

“N-No,” you said meekly.

“Didn’t think so, Shrimpy~” he beamed.

While it was a long shot since he was a water-dweller, you figured you might as well ask: “Say, Floyd, would you happen to know how to get out of this forest?”

He burst into a fit of laughter. You nervously laughed as well.

“Shrimpy, we’re out of the forest.”

“No, I meant–”

The eel intertwined his webbed fingers with yours. You flinched at the slimy texture of his hand. Floyd grinned at you before swimming towards the surface, pulling you up along with him. No effort was needed on your part as he was dragging you towards land. All you had to do was swing your legs here and there.

 Occasionally, he would look back to see if you were still conscious. You smiled back at him and he’d return the gesture. Before you knew it, you had risen to the surface. You gasped for air, clutching Floyd’s hand. He waded his way to the shore and let you climb onto the rocks while he propped his elbows to watch you attentively.

“Shrimpy, take a look,” Floyd said.

You scanned your surroundings. Was there something he wanted you to see? There were only tall trees and an eerie fog that hugged the banks of the lake. The moon was still high in the sky though a bit dimmer than it was before you fell into the body of water. You turned to your companion.

“We’re out of the forest,” he sighed.

“No we aren’t. We’re in the middle of the forest. The trees are still surrounding us. I want to go to Wonderland.”

“What did that rabbit put in your head…”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, Shrimpy.”

“So do you know the way out or not?”

“It’s a bit fuzzy, but I can be of some use,” he said, crawling onto the banks.

“Wait. Wait. You’re not supposed to be on land. You can just show me some pointers and I’ll be on my way,” you yelped, pushing him back into the waters.

“Fine. Fine. See that path that you came from? Go straight that way and when you hit the fork in the road, go left and then keep going straight until the next fork. Go left for all the forks.”

“That doesn’t sound so hard. I’ll be on my way now, Floyd. Thank you for helping me,” you cooed.

He grunted and huffed. You scooted forward and kissed his cheek. Grabbing your trampled basket off of the ground and adjusting your cloak, you sprinted off to the path the eel pointed to. It was so simple. How did you manage to get lost? Silly (y/n)!

The paths and forks were short too. It didn’t take long for you to see light at the end of the pathway. Excited, you picked up your pace. When you reached the end, your enthusiasm faltered,.. The loch?

No, no. You must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, but no matter. You can always start over from the path you came from. A water break wouldn’t be so bad either. You crouched down before the murky waters, cupped it gingerly.

A voice stopped you from taking another sip: “Back so soon, Shrimpy?”

You spun your heel: “Floyd?”

There he was. You savior from moments ago. In the flesh. On land. Human...and nude. Dropping your basket, you took off your cloak and wrapped it around him– all with a profuse blush creeping up your cheeks.

“What are you doing on land?”

“I came for you.”

You stared intently into his eyes. He shot you one of his signature smirks. You let out a small laugh as you tied the cloak’s ribbon around his neck.

“Let me water it down for you, Shrimpy: I came for this-!!”

He grabbed you by the face, pushing you towards the loch as he kissed you once more. Oh goodness...you felt dizzy. Light on your feet, you fell onto the ground. Floyd towered over you as you gasped for air, choking and sniffling on your own tears. Water soaked the ends of your hair. One hand reached for your neck and the other reached for the loch monster that quite literally took your breath away.  

Floyd leered at you before waving you goodbye as darkness engulfed your vision.

[littlefreya]

Feather Strokes

Summary: After returning to England with his French lover, Brigitte, Charles wants to share with her something from his past that he kept hidden for years.

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Brigitte

Word count: 2.6K

Genre: Romance, Fluff to Smut. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut, Romantic Smut, Light Bondage, Fingering, Sexual intercourse.

A/N: K my dudes, this is was by request. I never wrote Charles Brandon, honestly, and never wrote a non-original female. So, I am a little bit insecure, it’s kinda eating in my bones. I’d love feedback, as always. Of course many thanks to @agniavateira who edits all my work! 💖💖💖💖

Title: Feather Strokes

The fire burned softly in the fireplace, the sounds of crackling wood calming her down as she read her book. It was late, but she was fascinated by the tome she was reading, sitting in her white nightgown while a bare foot hung through the hem of the sheer chiffon, circling in the air. 

She felt curious eyes upon her. She could always tell when Charles was standing by the gold and red pillars of the chamber, watching her in awe.

A small smile stretched between her cheeks as she took a curl from her charcoal-black hair and twisted it around her fingers. This man had the tendency of making her feel like a maiden in love. 

“Why don’t you come to bed with me, ma petite cherie? It’s late.” 

Still in his leather trousers and a loose white nobleman shirt, he slipped from behind the column.

For years the Duke of Suffolk felt dead. Scarred by war, plagued by court intrigues, estranged by his once loving wife. What was left of the life that he once lived was nothing but a dusty abyss, full of decay and ghastly memories. 

But then there was her. His Brigitte. She breathed fire into his lonesome heart, filling the little cold creases in between with her warmth and her sweet feistiness. He needed her by his side; he couldn’t spend one night separated from the cinnamon and lavender scent of her body. 

Every day he fell harder more and more and wanted to show her, to teach her all the delights that were to life. 

There was still so much to be taught. 

“I’m reading.” she answered in her cute French accent, the smile on her face deepening the dimples in her cheeks. 

“The book can wait, my love,” Charles offered with a gentle loving smile and strode toward her then kneeling at her feet, looking like a servant awaiting his master’s orders. . She stared at the crouched man, large chocolate brown curls framing his bearded face, his eyes glistening like two rich gems. 

It was a gaze that he had only for her. 

His knuckles travelled up from her bare ankles, ascending to the hem of her nightdress until they were hidden at the pit of her knees. He curled his finger slightly and watched as the book fell from her hand and her dark eyes went shut. Little wrinkles formed as she chuckled. He knew exactly the spot that tickled the most. 

“Come here,” he whispered huskily and collected her into his arms before she could even muster a protest. The tall man carried her slowly up the stairs, nuzzling her temple while leading them into the bedchamber.

He placed her on the bed and took a step back, drinking in the sight of his loving mistress. She sat on the edge of the canopy bed, a darling smile spread on her lips while looking with anticipation. 

“Let me look at you.” Charles begged softly, with a small tilt of his head.

Even after spending a year enamoured with her, Brigitte was still a mystery to him. A feisty little bird, yet she possessed an almost virginal coyness, drifting a scent of innocence. 

It maddened him with desire. 

She circled a finger around the lace that held her nightgown and tugged  at it gently. The fabric slid down her chest, pooling at her hips. Charles gazed at the roundness of her breasts, his eyes filled with both admiration and love. He shifted forward, moving to cradle one plump breast in his hand while bumping his forehead against hers.

“Do you trust me, my love?”

“Always.” she replied, leaning into his touch and closing her eyes as a sensation of safety showered her entire existence.

Charles planted a kiss on her forehead and then moved toward the large wardrobe in the room. Giggling lightly, she moved her head to see as he crouched down and fetched a box from beneath the heavy wooden cabinet. 

It was a semi-large expensive looking box, made out of polished walnut wood. Charles sat on the bed next to Brigitte and opened it slowly while she gazed curiously. Inside were purple ropes made of silk, some feathers, and a dark cloth. 

Something he kept from his frivolous youth, back when he took a different lover every night.

“What is this?” she asked almost naively, a sheepish chuckle rolling off her lips. 

Charles flicked his tongue over his lip and looked deeply into her dark brown eyes. “I want to take you to new heights of pleasure. Will you allow me, my love?” 

Brigitte glanced at the contents of the box and then averted her gaze to look at Charles. His big, soulful eyes glinted with anticipation. It wasn’t just about the sex, he wanted to share with her something more, to take her into the hidden chambers of his soul.    

The small woman took her slender wrists in the air and placed them together with devotion on her face. Charles gave a small sigh of relief and smirked as he took a piece of rope and carefully began wrapping it around her delicate bones.    

“Let me know if it’s too tight, ma cherie.”

Once he finished with her hands he held her to stand up in front of him. His palms splayed at her hips, slowly sliding the  rest of her nightgown down her legs, letting it pile around her ankles. 

Even after all their time spent together, she still shivered as she stood naked in front of him. 

Charles was nothing like the men she had before. It wasn’t just his divine features, it was the way he looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world in a room full of many others. His eyes were glimmering seashores and she imagined herself swimming nudely inside.

He took the dark cloth and lifted it to her face, giving her a look that begged for her permission to which she assented with a curious smile. A small gasp left her rose-coloured lips as the world around her went pitch black. She could sense Charles’ breath tickling her face as he drew near to tie the blindfold behind her head. Then, there was something wet on her nose.

A chaste kiss, small, scented of red wine. She giggled blissfully as his hands glided from her head to her cheeks, stroking at the two rounded apples before descending to her neck. His coarse beard tickled her skin as another soft kiss stroked the corner of her mouth, the tip of her chin, until finally, his lips found hers.

Being deprived of her eyesight, the rest of her senses strengthened themselves. She could taste the red wine on his tongue as it slipped into her mouth and licked inside. Raspberries, cherries, and dark grapes lavished inside her as their tongues danced together in a loving quarrel. He ended the kiss with a small suckle of her bottom lip and then she finally felt herself flying in the air and sinking into a lush softness.

She moaned slightly as her back hit the mattress. Charles’ heat radiated over her skin within seconds and then it was his beard and his lips that ran from her neck to her chest. Both wetness and roughness followed as his tongue snaked around her nipple while his whiskers scratched her tender flesh.

She hummed in a trembling voice, her lips sucked into her mouth while her body writhed at Charles’ ministrations. Every patch of skin was admired by his loving kisses that trailed all through the path of her body.  

But then, there was a shift on the mattress. Charles seized her hips and rolled her onto her knees. His hand positioned her ass to stick up in the air and then ran along her spine, gently pushing her to lie with her head positioned between her elbows, and her bound wrists in front of her.

“Give me your ankles, pet.” he called as he held her ankles together and slipped another piece of silk around her legs, tying them together yet making sure her ample behind remains lifted in the air.

“Good?” he asked in his velvety voice as his index finger ran across her curve and his thumb stroked at the back of her thigh.

“Yes.”she answered in a half-whisper. 

Taking a step back, Charles took the sight of his little Brigitte as she was laid on display for him like a true work of art. His mind went to the dusky corners of old memories, remembering bountiful women which he had in this position before. It felt different, hollow.    

Despite her trust in her English lover, Brigitte couldn’t help but breathe and shiver in the position she was left out. Charles took his time, she could sense his eyes on her, licking at her body like hungry tongues as his breath fell heavy onto the cold air in the room. A few steps echoed bluntly on the floor as he moved closer, once more gracing her with his heat.

“Don’t move, my little belle.” he murmured as he stood behind her. It was a command, she realized, yet spoken so lovingly by his deep voice that it lost all harshness. She braced herself to the unknown sins, her fists clenching and her toes curling nervously. Beneath the darkness that engulfed her, she tried to guess what surprises Charles had in mind. 

Something incredibly light brushed at her foot and began caressing up her ankles.

She took a sharp inhale as the feather tickled at her flesh, nearly failing Charles' request at the very beginning of the game. A smile spread on his face as he saw her jolting against the large feather which he trailed up the shape of her legs. Excruciatingly slow and feverish he traced the smoothness of her skin, allowing just the tip to draw circles and waves on her body.

He felt like an artist, painting the most erotics colors on a beautiful canvas.

Brigitte moaned his name, closing her eyes beneath the blindfold as Charles began to brush it dangerously close to her heat. The feather tickled at her inner thighs and for a wisp of a moment, whisked at her dripping slit. 

“Charles…” she called out his name with a tad of desperation, her body slightly rocking back to receive more of that blissful sensation, but his hand squeezed at her cheek and then pinched at the fat playfully. 

“Tsk, tsk.” Charles ticked his tongue and continued to run the feather in slow, taunting motions. The softness grazed every inch, tickling her sensitive flesh, eliciting the most frustrated moans from her lips. In her voice she begged, unable to form words as Charles teased just across the seams of her cunt.

Ever so lightly the feather stroked her petals, dipping the creamy tip between the swollen folds of her body. She yelped as Charles dampened the feather with her elixir, tickling her arousal and humming to himself. She bit her lower lip and stopped her breath, focusing every muscle to remain still while Charles coxed her body to his will. 

Brigitte shuddered, her pussy throbbing with despair begging to be filled as Charles only provoked her body further. She could see his smile in her blindness, that hint of smugness as he held her at his mercy. 

In her suffering, she enjoyed this game immensely. 

“Charles please,” she begged, allowing her behind to buck slightly upward, her back forming a perfect arch. 

“Patience, my love.” he answered and then laid his knuckles on the curve of her ass. He then drifted them down simultaneously to the stroke of the feather around her engorged nub. She hissed as nimble digits traveled across her offering, flowing at the very shape of her wet slick. The tips of his fingers played between her folds while the feather circled and licked her clit.

Charles gazed in awe at the sight of her as she arched and moved, hazy with desire. She was a defiant, stubborn little thing. Every night when joining her in bed, he thought of that day when he asked her to come back with him to England.

If she had refused, he would have been a dead soul in a broken shell.

Yet there she was, warm against his fingers as they slipped inside her, followed by a deep moan that ripped from her throat. He savored on every little sound she emitted, his finger lingering inside, dancing to the tunes. He pumped in and out, becoming only slightly crude as the feather soothed her swollen clit.

It was too much. Her forehead pressed onto the mattress, her hands gripping at the sheets as she whimpered and yipped for the entire household to hear. Charles curled his fingers deep within her depth, finding that spot that made her collapse into an abundance of bliss. She pushed back into his hand, her canal shuddering as sheer liquid squirted from inside her.

It was the most pleasure she have ever experienced in her life.Her entire body trembled, muscles nearly giving in but Charles' firm touch held her back and secured her where he wanted her. 

A deep blush bloomed at her mound. Ripe as a fruit, sleek, and drenched for him to take. She was more tempting than ever but what had made him harder was seeing this  woman so lost in her own ecstasies. 

Still chasing the last tendrils of her pleasure, she felt his hand holding her behind and heard the muffled sounds of leather being stripped off. She sucked the air in with anticipation, in her mind she imagined seeing Charles’ standing with his shaft in one hand, tugging at the length while looking at her cunt with hunger.

Unable to withhold himself, he entered her slowly, releasing a prolonged groan as her heat captured him. The air escaped him at once, his heart shrunken as he finally united with the woman he loved. She had him in the most wicked ways.

Both of his hands gripped her hips, sliding her back onto his impressive length while he pushed his hips forward and drove inside her. Still blinded, she called his name, feeling full in her soul and in her core as he reached deep inside her. 

She didn’t need to see him, she felt him deep inside as he felt her. In their passionate unison they were one, breathing, moaning, lost within one another. Charles thrusted into her as a berserk warrior, seeking for his redemption, fighting the protest of her walls as they began to tighten with each stroke of his cock onto the same spot that made her chant the most profane melodies.

For the second time she fell apart, her body washed with warm waves that flowed from her very essence. Charles felt her clench around him, yet he rammed her through her ecstasy, letting out hopeless groans of pleasure that filled the room along with the sounds of his hips slapping against her ass. 

In her need to have him implode within her, she used the last remaining power within her muscles and slammed herself onto his pelvis, forcing him to come inside her with one final thrust.

The sounds he made when he came deserved to have a sin named especially after him. She could have sworn it brought a little jolt of pleasure that danced inside even after she climaxed.

Sweaty and panting, Charles collapsed on top of her back, his hands hugging her body tightly. He pressed his cheek onto the wing of her shoulder while small tears of happiness began to well in the ocean of his eyes.

“Je taime,” he whispered breathlessly against her damp flesh. “C'est tout.”

____________________________________________________

[ficsnroses]

Prompt Fic #22

❧  Prompt : “You really need to be fucked.” requested by @penwieldingdreamer​!

Summary : You surprise visit Keanu at his hotel while he’s away filming- and of course the first thing you do is get your hands on each other.

Pairing : Keanu Reeves x Reader.

Warning : nsfw, implied blowjob, implied smut. 

Word Count : 1.1k.

Fun fact : I wrote 95% of this fic in February & it was supposed to be this whole amazing smutty one shot, but I ended up abandoning it because I felt like it was literally going no where 😭 never thought it would see the light of day, but after a few lil tweaks and adjustments, here it is!

Dragging his feet along the chalky cement path walk, a tired Keanu trudges into the main lobby of his complimentary, state of the art, magnificently exquisite hotel. He’d been away shooting the newest installment of his latest project, The Matrix 4.

He’d been out in the Bay area for a couple of weeks now, prepping prior. To say he’d been missing Y/N, his girlfriend of many years, would have been an understatement.

Welcomed by the overriding scent of white tea and fragrant lemongrass, Keanu pulls out his phone, dialing the number of his love. Nothing calmed him down, reduced him to a stress free bliss, like hearing her honeyed voice chime on the other end.

“Hello?” Y/N answers, her voice pirouetting, kissing his ears.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He replies, the phone held to his ear, as he waits lonesome for the elevator lift. The floor surrounding is shined as well as any glass, the creamy hues and crystalized chandeliers channeling the brightest of lights around. The mahogany oaked tables and wall linings seem far too foreign.

He longed for the corridors of his home, the place so familiar.

The place his Y/N was.

“Hi! Are you done filming for the day?” she inquires.

Keanu chuckles, before returning. “Yeah. Just heading to my room now. What did you do today?”

“Not much, did some cleaning, read a book, got some coffee at the shop down the street. How was shoot today?”

Pressing the button to the 11th floor, where his suite had been located, he shoots a hand through his outgrown locks, sighing. “It was good, really good. Wish you could be here with me.” He sighs gruff, gentle frown paving way, unknowingly. “I miss you.”

“Aw, honey. I wish I could be there too. I miss you just as much.” And to the thought of those words, he continues his journey to his suite corridors, dreading another lonely night, spent tossing and turning in bed alone.

-

Entering the card into the key slot door, the bulky wooden frame glides open to Keanu’s suite.

He would have sworn his breath caught in his throat, seeing the sight of his Y/N, waiting on the other side.

She looked beautifully perfect. Her hair cascades on her shoulders, perfectly marvellous, shining in the lights, her skin is emitting a dewy hue, a sparkling smile plastered on her rosy lips, eyes fixed right into his, staring at the sight of her awestruck lover.

“Surprise.” She smiles, walking towards him.

Keanu drops his bag to the floor, disregarded as the largest, goofiest smile spreads on his face, feeling his heart practically jump out of his beating chest, so joyful his wish had actually come true. They meet halfway, snaking his arms around her smaller figure, as hers tangle around his neck, he breaths in her scent of floral lavender and freshly picked oranges, something so familiarly her.

Resting her hands on his chest as he’s buried his face in her neck, Y/N giggles. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I took a flight out and had the concierge let me up with some ID.”

Moving forward, he allows the door behind him to close with a thud, allowing them the privacy of their room, to share all the kisses, all the gentle grasp of each other’s skin they’d went without. Pulling back, to look at her, he places at delicate kiss to her forehead, sighing in contentment; a contrast to the breathy sighs of stress he’d released on the way up.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” He leans in to kiss her, as her soft hand comes up to gently cradle his cheek, thumb soothing over the skin.

“Oh baby, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you…” her petite hands move down his chest, heading south, stopping just over his manhood; a subtle, sultry change of tone. “How much I’ve needed you..” biting her lips, she connects her gaze with his again, her voice low, above a whisper, intoxicatingly suggestive.

Keanu and Y/N had a very healthy intimate relationship. Normally, they didn’t go very long without being with each other physically. Not to mention, Keanu’s age hadn’t let his sex drive suffer in the slightest. He was always ready to please his girl, show her the love, the pleasure she deserved.

With his voice low and rasped, he speaks.

“Yeah, darling? Tell me more.” Smirking, his large palms soothe over her clothed hips, as he presses tender, closed mouth kisses to her neck.

Y/N moans at the feel of his lips on her neck, it always managed to compliment her arousal, he knew that by heart. “I missed the way you touch me. The way your hands feel on my skin…” a muffled groan escapes her lips again. “I missed this…” she refers to his cock, palming gently over his clothed member. “How about,” she places a kiss to his chest. “You let me give you another surprise...” whispering, her breath is hot against his lips, sending tingles of shockwaves through his body.

She grabs his hand, guiding it to the entrance of her sweater, inside, tracing his fingers over her bare stomach. Planting his palm right over her breast, she allows him to cup it, resting her hand on top of his. “Would you like that, baby?” she questions. Underneath her sweater, Keanu feels delicate lace embroidered on her skin, the feel of classy lingerie dressed on her body,

-only for him to peel off her exquisite frame. And to the thought of it, Keanu’s pants tighten, his bulge so prominent as it pokes against her stomach, a sharp breath sucked in from his lips as he lets out a stifling moan, feeling her hands explore his body.

“Please…” he breathes, tone a deep rumble, breathe caught in his throat as his features fluster; skin flushing in need for her. Smiling, she places another kiss to his neck, lips barely sucking in an deeply violet mark.

“Wow, you really need to be fucked.” She giggles, working the buckle of his belt as his cock throbs for her under the restricted fabric.

“Will you show me what’s underneath, sweetheart?” he asks, fingers fiddling the hem of her sweater, murals of her striking body, the way she’d look, wanton and bare on the hotel bed as he’d take her whole; something he’d dreamt of every night away.

“Mmmm, not just yet.” Y/N moans, fingers pulling out his generous cock as she slips to her knees in front of him, doe eyes gazing up to his in a sly smirk. “First,” She licks a thick, sloppy, wet and warm stride up his shaft, beautiful veins bulging against her tongue as his head falls back in an ecstasy alike,

“I haven’t tasted you in far too long…” she sings, lips wrapping around his rosy pink tip, tasting the sweet and salty dew drops of his creamy pre cum, drench her mouth as she begins to bob for him,

-throatily, sinfully sloppy,

and tight. The way he’d always liked it.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Summer Solitude

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC) 

Story Rating: Mature

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic / 

Story Warnings: Cursing, sexual terms and themes, flirting, playful spanking, vague mentions of kinks, mostly fluff and just silliness

Words: 2,395

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

Written for the @bnhabookclub​​ ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Lake Date

Bingo Masterlist

Art in banner by me

“Katsuki, where the heck are you taking me?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“Yeah, I would. That’s why I’m asking, you smartass.” With a playful scrunch of her nose, Koge brought his hand up to her lips, placing soft kisses along his knuckles. “We’ve been driving for almost two hours and we’re out in the middle of nowhere now!” Their hands flopping back to lay on her bare thigh, the petite woman turned her gaze back to peer out at the passing trees, the thick forest surrounding the small countryside road not giving her any hints to where they were. All Bakugou had told her was to pack things for a day outdoors and to either bring or wear her swimsuit. Koge had decided on the latter, even though the tight material had begun to grow a tad uncomfortable in specific places, especially with her minidress coverup that had a tendency to cling to every curve. 

Bakugou had followed her example, dressed in just some orange swim trunks and his typical black tank. Because of the way they had dressed, Koge thought they wouldn’t be going far, but it was clear at this point that she was mistaken. He had refused to tell her, and he wasn’t using a GPS to help her cheat or get hints, so the only real couple of clues she had was that the location was in nature and involved them getting wet somehow. 

The curiosity was killing her. 

“Well I’m not telling you. Be a salty bitch all you want, you aren’t getting shit out of me.” Bakugou rubbed his thumb along her skin, his palm hot against her thigh. “It’s a surprise for a reason, Utsuro. You’ll like it. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve been able to go out on a date and not have two wild children to deal with.” 

Koge gave a small sigh of relief at the thought, leaning her head back against the headrest. “I know! I can see now why you asked your mom to babysit. Those two little gremlins have been driving me crazy.” 

“Natsuki’s not even a year old yet, either. She’s going to be a handful.” 

“Just like her handful of a Daddy.” Koge smiled at her husband sweetly, rubbing up and down his forearm gently. “She’s literally going to be just like you. I hope you can handle it.” 

“Tch, I think you’re the one that needs to pray. I can deal with one of myself, but you’ll have to deal with two.” A small grin stretched across Bakugou’s lips, careful as he turned the car through a tight corner. “And Matsuki might be a calm little squid right now, but who knows. He may just turn into a crazy person when he gets his quirk.” 

“Katsuki, love, I have dealt with you my whole life. I can handle more of you. But you have never dealt with yourself. You’re going to go crazy, because you are crazy-- OW, hey-!” Koge burst out into giggles, trying to escape the wrath of her lover as he squeezed her leg right above her knee where she was ticklish. “No, no, don’t-! I’ll jump out of the car if you do that!” 

“Well then you’ll be left alone to wander the woods all alone while I go enjoy our date.” 

“Psh, yeah right.” Koge leaned over the console, hugging onto his arm with her cheek on his shoulder. “You’d miss me. You’d come looking for me.”

“Maybe in like… two days. Or a month.” 

“You couldn’t last a day without me. Admit it!” 

“Fine, fine. You’re right, Utsuro.” Bakugou took a moment to place a kiss on the top of her head, though he kept his focus mostly on the tight and uneven road. “Wouldn’t last a single day. Why else would I have married you?” 

“‘Cause you like the way I suck your dick.” 

“I only pretend.” 

With a click of her tongue, Koge sunk her teeth into his skin, though he didn’t bother to react as he turned off the road onto a dirt and rock path. Distracted by the change, Koge released him and sat back in her seat, beginning to see some breaks in the trees that hinted at what was beyond. “Oooh, I think we’re almost there.” 

Bakugou gave a small grunt in confirmation as the path curved, and before Koge could really prepare, they were out of the woods and thrust into a completely open field. Just as soon as they left the woods, the path turned back into a regular paved road, which ascended and curved along a grassy hill. When Koge finally caught sight of what was below, a small gasp escaped her lips, leaning against the door with her nose pressed against the window in an attempt to see better. “Wha-, Katsuki! Look at that! The water is so pretty!” 

Below them, surrounded by forest and grassy parks, was a huge lake that extended farther than Koge could see, snaking around hills and islands and coated with the early morning fog. Having left the house a little before sunrise, the earth was still coated in a misty, glowing haze as the sun struggled to climb over the rolling clouds. The beams of yellow light that broke through glistened against the beautiful blue water, sparkling like millions of tiny diamonds. Along the right side that was visible to her, Koge could see a little beach area, with tables and a few people already scattered about, trying to prepare before the summer sun hit them in full blast. 

“Are we going to that little beach?!” 

“No, fuck that. My family pays for some exclusive land up here.” 

“And you never told me this?!” 

“They just bought it!” Bakugou huffed at the accusation secrecy, glowering at his wife out of the corner of his eye. “I wanted to surprise you with it! You always say you want surprises, but then you get annoyed when it’s something I didn’t immediately tell you about.” 

“Is there a house on the land?” Koge continued her questions, ignoring his gripe for the moment. “Is it gated or fenced in? How many acres? Does it have a dock and-” 

“Utsuro! You’re rambling.” Bakugou reached over and pinched her backside, since there was a little peek of her left butt cheek while she leaned forward to see the view over the dashboard of the car. With a yelp, Koge was quick to sit back down, pouting up at him while she rubbed the now stinging skin. 

“Ouch! I’m just asking questions!” 

“You’ll see when we get there. And stay sitting down!” 

“I’m not going to go flying out of the car, Katsuki.” 

“No, I don’t mean that. I just can’t focus on driving seeing your ass peeking out of that little coverup.” 

After another thirty minutes of driving around the hillside roads with Koge asking questions that Bakugou refused to answer, they finally pulled up to a gate that was secured with a chain and large lock. After plopping a key into her hand, Koge hopped out at his request and unlocked the gate, pushing it open to allow him to drive in. Once they were through, Koge secured the gate back in place with a rattling of chains and a click of the lock, before crawling back into the car. “Oooh, that’s fancy! So secure!” 

“My mom wants to get an electric gate with a keypad later down the road, just in case we have guests and shit that one to come stay here.” 

“‘Stay’? So there is a house?” Koge smiled up at him slyly, putting the key back away where he had pulled it from originally. “You just gave it away!” 

“Tch, whatever. You can see it through the trees, anyway.” 

Sure enough, as they made their way down the driveway, a two-story house soon came into view, bringing a smile to Koge’s lips. “Damn! I can see why your parents wanted this place! Ooh! It does have a covered dock and everything! A fire pit too! Oh Katsuki, I want to live here.” 

“Maybe when we retire and the kids are out of our hair, we can get a lake house. Or just move out here, I’m sure I’ll get it when my parents are gone, if it hasn’t gone to shit or anything. Utsuro, stop bouncing in your seat, you’re shaking the car!” 

“It’s so amazing! Katsuki, I’ve always dreamed of a beach or lake house like this! I know it isn’t ours, but it’s so beautiful out here! Have you seen it all yet?” 

“Just pictures,” Bakugou parked the car, glancing at the outside of the house before looking down at his impatiently wiggling wife. Unable to resist an amused smile at her excitement, he leaned over and gave her a firm kiss on the cheek to catch her attention, though it was followed by a softer, more affectionate peck. “Happy?” 

Giggling softly with the affection, Koge turned her head to catch a quick kiss on his lips, caressing both of his cheeks. “I’m happy, Katsuki. And excited! C’mon, where’s my grand tour!” 

“I don’t know where shit is, I’ve only seen pictures. You have to take your seatbelt off before you can get out of the car, you dumbass!” 

The tour of the house was a quick one, with Koge bouncing down the halls and excitedly pointing out this feature or that detail and anything else that caught her eye. In design, it was very much like a traditional style Japanese home, much different from the modern design that Bakugou’s parents usually preferred, which is why he believed they decided to buy it. He was indifferent, but Koge was ecstatic, even her modern preferences fading away at the beauty of the house. By the time the couple got to the end of the dock, she was smiling nearly from ear to ear, taking in the beauty of the tranquil nature that surrounded them. 

“It’s beautiful here, Katsuki. I’m not as much of a nature buff as you are, but this really is so nice! The water is so clear and clean. And there’s not another person around at all! Total privacy.” Leaning over a bit, she peered down into the water, looking about for anything interesting such as fish or plants. Most of the area was just rocks that she could see with very little vegetation, which would be good for swimming, and she already found herself wanting to jump in. “Let’s go get the stuff from the car so we can swim!” 

“Sure. Y’know, it is beautiful out here. But nothing can compare to that ass in that swimsuit.” Smirk on his lips and malicious intent undetected by Koge, Bakugou waited until she was really close to the edge of the dock before bringing his full palm hard onto her ass. Paired with a push, Koge was sent squealing and flailing into the water, landing with a loud splash that rippled through the air, though it was dwarfed by Bakugou’s laughter. “Got you!” 

Coming back up to the surface, Koge first took in a large breath to gather herself, shaking her head to rid her eyes of her hair and water to glare up at him. “Katsuki! You can’t go for two attacks at once! That slap hurt.” 

“Boohoo. How’s the water-” Before he could even finish his question, Koge had stripped her coverup off and threw the bundled up ball of clothing at his face, hitting him before it fell to the wood at his feet with a slick plop. Face and chest now dripping with water, Bakugou stood there in shock for a moment before his menacing glare returned, slicking his hair back with the water that coated his forehead. “You think that was funny, Utsuro?” 

“Yeah, big guy. You deserve it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Stripping off his shirt, Bakugou tossed it aside, using only his feet to slip off his sneakers. “I deserve it? You know what you deserve?” 

“What?” Koge began to swim backwards a bit, sly smirk on her lips. “Another spanking?” 

Once all clothing was discarded besides his swim trunks, Bakugou took a few steps back before jogging forward, propelling himself off the edge of the dock to land full cannonball right in front of Koge. Before she could recover from the wave, Bakugou snatched her by the ribs, using his advantage of strength to lift her up and toss her into the air, sending her flying a few feet away as she squealed in delight. Laughing as he pushed his hair back from his face, Bakugou swam towards her. “That’s what you deserve, Utsuro.” 

“It’s not fair!” Koge latched onto him, her arms around his neck and legs latched around his waist. “I can’t do stuff like that to you! You’re too buff.” 

Caressing her body in close, Bakugou kissed her lips softly, placing a few last punishing pats on her previously spanked butt cheek. “Poor Utsuro. Too tiny to retaliate.” 

“I could retaliate. I could pinch that cute little butt. Or give you some nice blue balls. You don’t get any pussy.” 

Bakugou laughed, a sharp and amused chortle that brought a blush to Koge’s cheeks. “Yeah right! Utsuro, you’re obsessed with my dick, you wouldn’t be able to brush me off.” 

“You don’t think so?” 

“Nope.” Smirking against her lips, he squeezed a handful of her ass, only making her blush darken. “You’ve wanted to hop on my dick since this morning. You, retaliate by not letting me fuck you? That won’t ever happen.” 

“Well, how about I bet you.” Koge nudged his nose playfully with her own. “I bet you that I won’t fall for your sexual advances until tomorrow. If I win, then we buy your parents a hot tub to go along with this place-” 

“The fuck-?”

“-But if you win, then we can do that kinky thing you wanted to do, since we have time alone.” 

“Seriously? With the knives?” 

“Mhmm. But you can’t be all try hard. Everything has to be natural. Deal?” 

“You’re gonna lose. But I’ll get you tonight, you have no idea what I have planned. You’ll be falling into my arms.” 

“Apparently the only thing I’ll be falling into is the water, as you’ve so lovingly demonstrated. Ah, wait- No, Katsuki, don’t throw me again!”

[honeylemondrop]

Took those sticks and stones, showed 'em I could build a house They tell me that I'm crazy, but I'll never let 'em change me 'Til they cover me in daisies, daisies, daisies

BASIC QUESTIONS

First name? Haven

Surname? Lemos

Middle names? Benita

Nicknames? Havey, Honey (only Beck)

Date of birth? October 8

Age? 28

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE

Height? 5’8

Weight? 145

Build? slim

Hair colour? Light brown

Hair style? Loose and straight

Eye colour? green

Eye Shape? almond

Glasses or contact lenses? glasses

Distinguishing facial features? Eyes

Which facial feature is most prominent? lips

Which bodily feature is most prominent? skin

Other distinguishing features?

Skin? tan

Hands? petite

Make up? always

Scars? On her hands from failed experiments

Birthmarks? A brown patch shaped like a butterfly

Tattoos? no

Physical handicaps? no

Type of clothes? The latest fashions

How do they wear their clothes? Usually tight and out of the way

What are their feet like? Average

Race / Ethnicity? Cuban/Spanish

Mannerisms? She talks with her hands and get louder the more excited or angry she is

Are they in good health? yes

Do they have any disabilities? no

PERSONALITY

What words or phrases do they overuse? Carajo, dammit,

Do they have a catchphrase? no

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? realistic

Are they introverted or extroverted? introverted

What bad habits do they have? Forgetting to eat and not sleeping enough

What makes them laugh out loud? The silliest things

How do they display affection? A gentle touch and kind words

Mental handicaps? No

How do they want to be seen by others? innovative

How do they see themselves? Trying her best

How are they seen by others? Kind, intelligent and motivated

Strongest character trait? determined

Weakest character trait? self-critical

How competitive are they? Not really

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Time to consider

How do they react to praise? well

How do they react to criticism? She takes it in because she wants to do better

What is their greatest fear? To never accomplish her goal

What are their biggest secrets? She’s terrified most of the time that something will fail and there will be no coming back from it

What is their philosophy of life? Enjoy it while it’s here

When was the last time they cried? Last tuesday because of an animal documentary

What haunts them? ...Tadashi’s death

What are their political views? none

What will they stand up for? The people who can’t stand up for themselves

Who do they quote? Einstein, Tesla,

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? indoorsy

What is their sinful little habit? Uh, hmm, men? And chocolate.

What sense do they most rely on? Smell, usually the experiment smells before it blows up

How do they treat people better than them? The same

How do they treat people worse than them? The same

What quality do they most value in a friend? Honesty.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Courage. Bravery leads to stupid mistakes.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? She wouldn’t change anything

What is their obsession? chemistry

What are their pet peeves? When people don’t listen to other and act like they’re better

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Big, parents and siblings and family in Cuba

What is their perception of family? She loves her family. She thinks family is the love no one else can give you.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? She’s the eldest, a younger brother and sister

Describe their best friend. Fred Fredrickson. He’s an outgoing, creative guy who is always there for her.

Ideal best friend? Someone who balances her out.

Do they have any pets? No

Who are their natural allies? Fred, Reagan, Emily, Penny

Who are their surprising allies? Beckham Teague

PAST AND FUTURE

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? She was a bright bubbly baby that learned to walk and talk quickly. An inquisitive child that drove her parents crazy with a million questions.

Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? nurtured

What is their greatest achievement? Getting into college without debt but her PH.D is killing her financially

What was their first kiss like? A mess, she had braces, he was chewing gum.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Not tell them she loved them.

What are their ambitions? To change the world and be able to make it a better place through science

What advice would they give their younger self? To take more risks.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Roses because her mother would grow them in their garden.

What was their childhood ambition? To be a scientist

What is their best childhood memory? Cooking with her mom and siblings

What is their worst childhood memory? Being made fun of because she was taller than everyone else.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? no

LOVE

Do they believe in love at first sight? nope.

Are they in a relationship? …..nope.

How do they behave in a relationship? She’s completely loving and attentive. She cooks for them and spends time with them.

When did you character last have sex? Ask Beck.

What sort of sex do they have? The sexy kind?

Has your character ever been in love? yes

Have they ever had their heart broken? yes

CONFLICT

How do they respond to a threat? She’s very logical

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, she’ll tear you to shreds with her words.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Someone who needs to be saved

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Her journal with her notes

How do they perceive strangers? She’s very trusting but not naive.

What do they love to hate? Bad fashion

What are their phobias? She’s afraid of chickens because she got chased by one when she was a kid

What is their choice of weapon? Science

What living person do they most despise?

Have they ever been bullied or teased? She was constantly teased for her height.

Where do they go when they’re angry? She yells. A lot. Sometimes in Spanish and sometimes she just screams.

Who are their enemies and why? None…yet!

WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES

What is their current job? She’s an underpaid intern at PymLabs

What do they think about their current job? It’s fascinating.

What are some of their past jobs? Waitress, daycare teacher

What are their hobbies? Reading, singing and cooking

Educational background? Currently working on her PH. D

Intelligence level? Genius

Do they have any specialist training? She’s trained in handling lab safety and CPR/First Aid certified.

Do they have a natural talent for something? She’s a good singer

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? She played basketball but hated it.

What is their socioeconomic status?

FAVORITES

What is their favorite animal? Tiger

Which animal do they dislike the most? Snakes

What place would they most like to visit? Japan

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? Sunset in Cuba

What is their favorite song? No te pido flores by Fanny Lu

Music, art, reading preferred? Reading

What is their favorite color? Yellow

Favorite food: rice

What is their favorite work of art? Irises by Van Gogh

Who is their favorite artist? Banksy

What is their favorite day of the week? Tuesday

POSSESSIONS

What is in their fridge? Fresh vegetables, juice, milk and someone else’s beer

What is on their bedside table? Book, post it notes and pens

What is in their car? Doesn’t have one

What is in their bin? Trash? Probably lots of paper

What is in their purse or wallet? Lipsticks, bandaids, hair ties, candy

What is in their pockets? Paper clips, hair clips

What is their most treasured possession? Her teddy bear that her grandma made her, Raul.

SPIRITUALITY

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel?

Do they believe in the afterlife? That there will be something

What are their religious views? She believes in God but no religion

What do they think heaven is? A place where one feels loved

What do they think hell is?

Are they superstitious? Nope.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? Bird.

How would they like to die? In her sleep at old age

What is your character’s spirit animal?

What is their zodiac sign? Libra

VALUES

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Other than being unsliced, lied to.

What is their view of ‘freedom’? It’s not easy

When did they last lie?

What’s their view of lying? She hates it.

When did they last make a promise? She promised Hiro she wouldn’t cry

Did they keep or break their last promise? She broke it.

DAILY LIFE

What are their eating habits? She either eats really healthy or not at all because she forgets

Do they have any allergies? She’s allergic to shellfish

Describe their home. Neat and tidy for the most part, utter chaos if she loses something

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Yoga, because she’s better than me

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Enjoy reading a book with some cafe con leche because that’s what I do.

What do they do on a Friday night? Usually hang out with someone

What is the soft drink of choice? Sprite

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Wine

MISCELLANEOUS

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? She’d dress up as sailor moon

Are they comfortable with technology? Extremely

If they could save one person, who would it be? She couldn’t choose

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Beckham

What is their greatest extravagance? Her louboutins

What is their greatest regret? Not telling Tadashi she loved him

What is their perception of redemption? Understanding what was wrong and making amends

What would they do if they won the lottery? Buy her family a house and pay for her PH.D and open her own lab

What is their favourite fairytale? Doesn’t have one

What fairytale do they hate? Hansel and Gretel

Do they believe in happy endings? Yes, but you have to make them happen.

What is their idea of perfect happiness? Having accomplished all her goals alongside her family, the one she has and one she would make.

What would they ask a fortune teller? Nothing

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? She’d stop Tadashi.

What sport do they excel at? None

What sport do they suck at? All of them

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? She’d choose magic but she’d never admit it.