#points at cakes. HEAR THAT ENGINE PURR

[aueua]

tail wagging in a sine wave...

[ranmanjuu]

not a request but can you imagine oda forces trying to play smash against the anti-oda or they all play minecraft together

i’ll expose myself here. i have never ever played smash (although minecraft steve being announced is super pog) so i can’t tell ya that part bud. but i can with the blok game. (disclaimer that this request was made after i closed it yet my heart said No, you actually Want to do this so here i am. most probably will be short).

‎

welcome folks, to SengokuSMP.

oda forces:

—nobunaga:

would be the one that steals your iron and shit. commits thefts willy nilly, and no one is exempt from this. if he needs it, he’ll get it with or without your consent.

would kill an iron golem for the few iron it gives

before he got his own base (cause i think he’d just spend most of his time mining and getting materials to protect himself) he’s probably just barge in the nearest bed and sleep in it, regardless of the owner.

his base would probably be built by hideyoshi or sumthn.

he prefers playing pvp more than just survival. since mc placed a kind of restriction for the end (and therefore blocking them from completing the game), he goes onto servers and practice his battles even in a block game.

1.9 axe-shield pvp. he’s tactical in knowing when to strike and block and to back down, and is immaculate with his crits.

—hideyoshi:

probably spends the first few days around nobunaga to protect him. he always fights off the mobs near him even if nobunaga can handle himself.

always reminds people to sleep every night, so that the phantoms don’t come. even though a lot of the players prefer to just stay up.

built a base for nobunaga near his mine cause he needs A Place and not just mooch furnaces and beds from other people.

spawned iron golems for “protection” but nobunaga keeps killing them cause it just gets in the way

would be the one to make mines 4 blocks high so you don’t Bump your head thing, probably like 3 block width and even staircases. would also be the one to make a safety railing across any bridges he finds.

if an ally, he’d greet new players and give them some extra stuff so that they have Something to start off with

i feel like he’d be a pve player idk why

—mitsuhide:

no one knows where he is most of the time. nor his base.

unless you see his nametag (which, most of the time, he’ll see yours first) it’s kinda hard to find him when he’s off and alone.

mf is the black market of the server. whatever potions, potion ingredients, or shit like that, he has. he probably owns like several wither skulls enough to summon a wither.

he would sneak around when mc is mining and just like. scare the shit out of them. the cave noises don’t help.

(the newest screenshot hasn’t been released yet but,) y’all know the warden? the new mob? cause it’s reliant on sounds, if anyone is ever in its proximity he’d throw like snowballs at them so that it goes after them. little shit.

bow skills?? perfect. even in a game his accuracy is spot on. you know those obstacles people make with like slime blocks and maybe mlg 360s? mf can do that

he probably knows enough redstone to make traps, too.

somehow knows what everyone has/doesn’t have.

—masamune:

prank ass bitch.

he probably has like a Source of tnts in his base or something. if anyone is moving out of their old base, he’ll either blow it up or burn it, whether they wanted to or not.

fuck it. he’ll do it even if you’re not moving.

probably doesn’t often sleep and would rather fight off the phantoms than anything.

he probably wants to defeat the dragon quick, cause it’s supposed to be the game’s ultimate goal. but because of the previous restrictions you put, he just goes off and fights other players (cough kenshin, nobunaga)

and when he does kill you, expect like half of your items to not be returned.

also one of the casual thieves in the server. he just doesn’t care that it Belongs to someone and just yoinks

also a pvp player, although i find him leaning more to 1.8 style. he will jitter click you out of existence.

has dogs because idk he gives off that vibe also they Attack.

—ieyasu:

does not log on much lol. he got on once and then Never Again. it’s only when you ask him that he begrudgingly does get in in his own contrarian way.

definitely goes wayy far out for more isolation cause he doesn’t want to get caught up with whatever shit masamune has.

the only major thing he did besides mining and everything was that he got a cat. and almost no one knows about it, other than you because:

“ieyasu has made the advancement [Best Friends Forever]!”

“mc: :OOOOO!!!!”

yeah, you never told anyone.

the longest time that he logged in at first was probably when he found out that cats sleep in beds and just. sat there as the night goes by in his bunker just watching and hearing it purr. he’s a bit irritated when the others tell him to sleep, but then see that the cat went and slept on him that secretly made his heart soft.

and then you insisted on going to his base which took a considerable amount of time, and even with his denying, you decide to decorate and expand his base! you also got to name the cat, but you never knew since you just said like “i’d name it [...]!” and later ieyasu found a name tag and actually did name it that.

—mitsunari:

he doesn’t run a lot i don’t feel. primarily because he was wonky with the controls from the start.

i feel like he’d have the brain to be a redstone engineer. he spends more time like, making those cool machines than anything (probably those that’d help out everyone like an automated farm, etc.)

thing is he forgot that he could die, so most of the time he’s just starve to death without even noticing it.

much like in real life, he always forgets to sleep. and that’s why phantoms are his number 2 in his cause of deaths.

doesn’t have an actual base. hideyoshi built a small one for him, but mitsunari kind of never uses it and just logs off on the spot. at this point it just became a part of the main buildings for everyone or something.

he doesn’t do an awful a lot of collecting and often asks others for some. and when he is given it, he goes “thank you ^^ <3″ and does like the happy-shift thing. it’s honestly too cute for it to be just pixels.

probably knows a lot about minecraft stuff too, it’s just that he never uses any of it.

—ranmaru:

he was so excited the first time you told him that he was invited to the smp of sengoku warlords! would probably frequent the most.

i think he’d just vibe really. not exactly going extremely into pve or pvp or redstone or building, he plays it at a very slow place and more like an animal crossing player would.

like, he builds a small farm and stuff. it isn’t as efficient as mitsunari’s, but it is what it is. also has an animal pen with loads of one animal category and he tends to let people use it with the exclusion of some (coughs masamune) as long as they breed them again or something.

and while he doesn’t go for the big projects, he is kind of a builder? he has the Aesthetic sense while building his house and stuff yk. would maybe lean into the cute, cottagecore stuff.

favorite food in game is probably cake! it takes more effort than most other foods and it just looks cute so he likes making them.

totally has shaders on.

is scared shitless of cave noises at times. you could play 11 near him and he’d just straight up panic and log off.

‎

uesugi-takeda forces:

—shingen:

i find him to be maybe one of those builders that stick to large projects and stuff idk why

he does other things too, mainly pvp (he likes to just head over to nobunaga’s base and kill him sometimes. not that the man doesn’t accept the challenge). would probably also be more into 1.9 pvp because he’s a very calculative person in fighting. yes even in block game.

but the first thing he built once he’s set from collecting materials, was a “restaurant”. for what, you ask? why of course he takes you on a minecraft date. that was the top of his list the moment you even told him about the smp

once the others found out (which was not that long) he just started bragging. kenshin burnt down the building later on.

but he always escorts mc or some shit while spewing out his Lines in chat, sometimes doing the bow in game thing. in response, there are several barfs in chat, and a list of people coming to kill him.

mf likes to combat log on kenshin when he’s on a Killing Spree for the shits and giggles.

—kenshin:

first time you told him about it, he was very happy to learn something about mc’s modern times, even if it’s a children’s game. unfortunately, he didn’t know what an ‘smp’ meant.

so when he logged on and saw that there were Other people, his smile turned into a deadly frown as he just began punching them to death. he only stopped when they ran off and you intervened.

he tried having you stick around longer when you were giving him a tutorial of how to play the game.

at first he only collected material to get stronger. and by that only sword because he sees no need in getting armor (he doesn’t die in battle irl, he can’t die in a simple game). but WRONG cause he got killed by shingen who, even though he had a stone axe, had iron armor while kenshin got nothing but an iron sword.

he doesn’t make a base (why do so many here don’t make bases istg). in fact, he doesn’t log on much.

at first, he only goes on if mc is on. it’s only when he sees that mc appreciates some of the work the others have put into things (like shingen’s builds, mitsunari’s redstone, etc.) is when kenshin tries to Do Things Too and kinda fail.

this man kinda has no aesthetic sense in the block game. but you give him a for effort.

1.8 pvper. he can definitely do 1.9, but more the former mostly cause his deadly anger makes him jitter click like crazy. often challenges others (consented or not) which mostly includes masamune and nobunaga, and he often surprise attacks shingen and sasuke.

—yukimura:

honestly a normal player in survival.

he makes a decent house, has some pretty strong gear, and just helps around his allies a lot (mostly {try to} drag kenshin away from trouble, scold shingen for being too close to mc {though it’s a him problem ngl} and just being a messy caretaker).

i feel like he’d enjoy tekkit tbh. sasuke would probably introduce it to him and he’d just generally enjoy it.

but this is about the smp

he got lucky the first drowned he killed dropped a trident and it’s been his favorite weapon.

probably tried at one point to build kenshin a small base but he wouldn’t listen so like. shrugs.

he’s a bit iffy with playing alongside the enemies in the same server, but they are kind of divided into two. and mc did say it was just for fun and games and they didn’t want to see actual wars be dragged into this, so he just lets it go and has fun.

he looks forward to beating the enderdragon a lot, when the end is available.

—sasuke:

oh Boy he’s having a field day. his adored sengoku warlords? playing minecraft, his childhood game??? absolute pog.

even though it was you who proposed the idea, the one who set up the server in the first place was sasuke, since he has more knowledge on that stuff.

since he got his bearings quicker than the rest from experience, and he was earlier to log on due to testing and stuff, he mostly helps you with building like the main hub, like the center place for everyone and generally things that involve helping the overall smp.

can mlg water bucket, through a lot of trial and error. he uses it mostly to make dramatic entrances where he drops from a hill and just not take damage.

^ speaking of Dramatic Entrances, he probably has a chest full of ender pearls for those specifically.

although he helps a lot with guiding everyone, at times, he pulls out the ol’ “sleep in the nether :)” suggestion just to troll

ngl he’d stick to his ninja thing and successfully make a redstone-wired door and has his banger secret base in it

—yoshimoto:

the s in smp doesn’t exist to him.

he’s just a collector, really. one of his first priority isn’t even materials like stone, the moment he finds any kind of flowers he’ll pick it up. it’s only when yukimura and sasuke actually Give him shit does he start living a not broke life.

probably dies a lot to mobs and stuff

but like legit, this man spent a long time collecting all 13 discs and almost every flower (yes, even the biome only ones) because he wants to take it all in. nevermind the fact that he can just listen to the discs online and all.

he’s immaculate in his aesthetics. even with just wood he makes his base look really cool ngl. 

some parts of it are plastered with every painting there is in minecraft, or just item frames, or flowers in their pots. every decoration you can think of, lamps, campfires, even armor stands, he has them.

you gotta give him credit, it’s a lot of effort.

he often afks just to listen to the music even though, again, he could just listen to it online.

got into a bit of a spiel with ranmaru, since he unknowingly dyed a lot of his sheep (he did categorize it with color though). and so they made an agreement to just have every color sheep, and put them in different pens. so they just shared it now

he saw the cave updates and went silently bonkers because how pretty some look (like the lush caves? hello??)

he has like. 14+ texture packs and 4 different shaders ready at his settings.

[theicescorpions]

Strikemaster Ice-

A young man with a lot of boiling resentment for his lot in life, Andrew Fitzgerald was born to a single mother who died when he was very young. The only person who truly helped him through the loss of his mother was his best friend Evie, who later went missing in the third grade and he presumed was dead which really messed him up. His grandparents raised him up until the point where his deadbeat father returned, demanding money. His grandfather refused to give the man anything and was assaulted. Andrew tried to intervene to save his grandparents but was beaten as well. When the man realized he was looking at his own son he called Andrew a mistake that was lucky to have been born. He quickly left when he heard the police sirens. Andrew was hospitalized from the encounter and when he woke up he learned that his grandfather had passed away due to a heart attack triggered by the beating he had received. Andrew vowed to find a way to become stronger so that no one could beat him like that again, further compounding his hate for the world to the point he sought out the Zu monastery in Bhutan where he learned martial arts with DJ Fist and MC Cobra until they were expelled for their violent outbursts.

MC Cobra -

Shane Grey spent nearly all of his life in an orphanage. Orphaned at the age of two when a drunk driver ran a red light and hit the car he and his parents were in, killing his parents. all Shane has left is his mother’s locket and a worn old photograph of them holding him as a baby. He met DJ Fist when he was five years old and they have been inseparable best buds and brothers ever since, even passing up adoptive homes when they only wanted him and not him and DJ together. A Technical genius good with delicate and intricate work but not too bright when it comes to social tact Shane was taken advantage of by the orphanage staff who were looking to make money off his skill. He left with Desmund to Bhutan to get away from those who would use them for profit while they suffered. They later joined Strikemaster Ice at the Zu Monastery, learning martial arts until they were expelled for their violent outbursts.

DJ Fist -

Abandoned at a park at the age of Six by his parents, Desmund James Rodriguez (aka DJ), met his lifelong best friend and brother MC Cobra at the orphanage Cobra was being raised at. Des doesn’t speak because of his abandonment issues, if he does it is because he trusts that person completely and he has something important to say. He is an incredible listener and is the most mature and debatably the most responsible one of the Ice Crew. An engineering genius he can build nearly anything from scrap metal and make it look good. He was taken advantage of by the orphanage staff who were looking to make money off his skill. He left with Shane to Bhutan to get away from those who would use them for profit while they suffered. They later joined Strikemaster Ice at the Zu Monastery, learning martial arts until they were expelled for their violent outbursts.

Victoria Venom -

A short and very skinny young woman with black hair and blonde ends, Gertrude Evelyn Frankenburger absolutely despises her name and prefers her middle name. Her mother and sister disappeared when she was young leaving her alone with an overly abusive father who nearly killed her. From kindergarten through third grade, every night Evelyn would catch a trolley across San Francisco and go to Strikemaster Ice’s home, climbing up a tree to sneak in through his bedroom window. He would treat her injuries with a first aid kit he kept in his desk drawer and they would sleep in his bed together so that she would be safe and protected. She would sneak back out and go home every morning before her father woke up so he wouldn’t know she had been gone. In third grade CPS had removed her from the home and moved her far away, leading Andrew to believe she had died because no one would tell him where she was. They were reunited years later when the Ice Crew came to San Francisco and they were pickpocketing for money because they were starving. Evelyn offered them a place to stay and food to eat. Ice calls her Evie when he thinks no one can hear him and she calls him Drew in return. Their friendship remains incredibly strong and Strikemaster Ice can be incredibly overprotective of her.

Pit Viper -

On the run from her psycho micromanaging mother and an arranged marriage she wants no part in, Lilith Abernathy was born to the stupidly rich Abernathy family. Having been suppressed her whole life Lilith has taken on an extreme dark look, dying her honey colored hair black and neon blue-green with many piercings, even going so far as to having her tongue surgically split to make it forked like a snake. She has adopted a violent personality as a protective front against anyone who would threaten or harm her and her friends. Underneath all the anger and violence is someone who is loving, incredibly sweet and very loyal. She particularly enjoys loving all over MC Cobra at any given chance with all sorts of affection and kisses and adores any affection she receives from him in return. If she could she would purr. Also baking is her thing. Especially when stressed. Lots of stress baking. So many cakes and cookies. DJ steals most of the cookies though.

Roundabout -

Emma Swann is an incredibly successful underground DJ in the harder styles of music. She is always around and about giving her the nickname ‘Roundabout’. Her home life wasn’t terrible but she was mostly ignored as a child. Sweet, quirky and loud describes this pointed eared strawberry blonde. She hides a big secret from everyone, including her boyfriend DJ Fist.

[haledamage]

Wayhaven Week Day 1 - Dusk

@otomefandomevents

day 1 WOO here we go!!

Kira/Nate

Kira’s phone buzzed in her pocket as she closed her apartment door. She fished it out and answered without looking. “Detective Kingston.”

“Hello, Kira.”

She felt a shiver travel up her spine at the warm purr through the phone, very much the last person she ever expected to be calling her. “Nate. Well, this is certainly a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She could imagine the smile on his face, clear and present in his voice. “I was just wondering if you had any plans for this evening.”

“Well, I had a date with Ilona Andrews tonight,” she gave the book on her coffee table an affectionate pat, though she knew he couldn’t see it, “but I think she'll understand if I postpone if you have something else in mind.”

“It’s come to my attention that I missed your birthday.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.

“I wish you had said something,” Nate said softly.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.” She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling strangely guilty. She had no reason to feel that way - it’s not like she’d kept it a secret, really - but she still felt the need to justify not saying something back in April. “We had more important things to worry about.”

“No. We didn’t.” She was really glad she couldn’t see his face right now; the intensity in his voice alone was enough to make her weak in the knees. “Let me make it up to you.”

She wanted to say that there was nothing to make up, that he had technically taken her to a carnival for her birthday, even if it hadn’t exactly been a real date, but when she opened her mouth all that came out was, “Okay.”

“Perfect.” The smile was back in his voice. “Meet me outside the Warehouse tonight at sunset.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.” His voice dropped low, making the otherwise innocuous words sound like innuendo. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Kira. Tell Ilona hello for me.”

Kira couldn’t keep the smile off her face as they said their goodbyes and hung up. It lingered for the rest of the afternoon.

------

Right at dusk, Kira pulled up outside the Warehouse’s chain link fence to find Nate already waiting for her, leaning casually against the fence with his hands in his pockets. She cut the engine and got out of her car, stopping a few feet in front of him to lean a hip against the hatchback’s dented bonnet.

“Hi,” she said quietly, feeling absurdly shy under his warm smile. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Not at all. I only just arrived myself.” She arched an eyebrow at that; she didn’t think he would lie to her, but the way he’d been standing made it look like he’d been there a while. Before she could say anything about it though, he stepped away from the fence and toward her, holding a hand out. “Come with me.”

She didn’t hesitate to slip her hand into his and let him lead her into the woods.

They walked in silence for no more than five minutes, the sun still high enough in the sky that Kira wasn’t handicapped by her human senses, before the forest suddenly gave way to a clearing. It was fairly small, no more than fifteen feet from one side to the other, and nearly a perfect circle. The ground was covered in clover, dotted with patches of brightly colored wildflowers, and lanterns hung from hooks on low-hanging branches around the edges of the circle, clearly placed there by Nate. Fireflies flickered through the flowers and father into the woods.

In the center of the clearing was a picnic blanket. On the blanket sat a plate of cupcakes. One of them had a candle in it, flame flickering merrily in the summer breeze.

It looked like a dream. Like a scene from one of those romance movies Tina was always making her watch. Kira stared at it dumbfounded, like she'd never seen a picnic before.

“Happy birthday, Kira,” Nate murmured by her ear, breaking her out of her shock.

“Nate, this is… I’m…” She shook her head, completely at a loss for words. Part of her had been worried there would be a party waiting for her, no matter how much she reminded herself that he knew her better than that. But this, this was�� “Amazing. This is… you’re amazing. Thank you.”

He stiffened in surprise for just the slightest moment when she hugged him, but his arms wrapped around her immediately, warm and gentle.

“You’re welcome.” She could feel his laughter more than hear it. He was clearly reluctant to pull away, but he still did so, letting her go enough that he could see her face. “You should blow out the candle before the wind does it for you.”

Kira debated if it was worth it, but ultimately agreed on the grounds that she could always hug Nate again later if she wanted to, and let him lead her over to the blanket. 

Once they were seated, he lifted the cupcake with its still-burning candle and held it out to her. The candle had almost burned down to the cake in the time it had taken them to get there, but it hadn’t quite yet. “Make a wish.”

She grinned playfully, keeping her eyes on his as she leaned forward and blew out the candle.

He answered her grin with a smirk of his own, every bit as playful but not quite in the same way. “What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.” She plucked the candle out of the cupcake to lick the frosting off of it, and it was immediately apparent that Nate no longer cared about her birthday wish. He was suddenly much more interested in watching her mouth, the way her tongue swirled around the length of the candle until it was clean.

And hey, if she made more of a show of it than she really needed to, well, no one here would judge her for it.

Kira took the cupcake itself from Nate’s distracted hands in an attempt to relent in her teasing, but she didn’t do a very good job of it because the noise she made when she took a bite of it could only be described as obscene. She blushed scarlet, no longer able to meet his eyes, but she still took another bite. It was the best goddamn cupcake she’d had in her life.

She told him as much, with slightly less swearing, and a pleased smile curled across his lips. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he said in a sultry purr. “I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so… vocal about it. I’ll have to remember that.”

Somehow, her face got even redder. She stumbled over an attempt to reply, but it didn’t really resemble words. Nate laughed, though not unkindly, and showed her some mercy, grabbing his own cupcake and taking a bite.

They sat together in the quiet, enjoying their cupcakes and watching the sun set over the trees as night fell.

Kira’s eyes were drawn up, watching as stars began to emerge, the forest far enough from Wayhaven that there was hardly any light pollution - not that the town had much problem in that regard to begin with. The moon was only a sliver, a Cheshire cat smile just above the treetops, and the lanterns around the clearing only provided enough light to allow her to see Nate next to her, not enough to ruin the view.

She lay back on the blanket and stared up at the endless expanse, stars twinkling merrily in the cloudless sky. Around them, the forest was waking up, the rustling of leaves and the songs of frogs and birds and insects drowning out any hint of noise from the town until it felt like there was no one in the world but the two of them. 

She took a deep breath and let the peace of it settle over her like a soft blanket. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see that Nate’s attention wasn’t on the night sky and instead was much more earthbound, watching her with a kind of gentle reverence that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart flutter in her chest. She turned her head enough to meet his gaze, her smile growing to match his.

“Thank you for this,” she whispered, reaching for his hand again. “This is a perfect birthday.”

He chuckled as he laced their fingers together. “Only a month and a half late.”

“It was too cold in April anyway. This is better.” Something behind him caught her attention and she finally broke eye contact to look back at the sky. For a moment, nothing happened, and then another flash of light streaked across the sky, then another, then a third. She gasped and sat up. “Nate, look.”

He turned his eyes to the sky and then he gasped too. They watched the meteor shower in silence for a while, hand in hand and sides pressed together, the moment so beautiful it took Kira’s breath away.

She found her attention wandering from the sky and back to the man at her side. The stars reflected in Nate’s dark eyes, flashing like fireworks in their depths, and the sight left her breathless for an entirely different reason. 

In an effort to keep from losing herself to the moment entirely, she rested her chin on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “Make a wish.”

As soon as he turned to her, she knew her plan had backfired. Instead of dispelling the heaviness of the mood, it ignited.

It was too dark to read his expression well, but she didn’t need to; she could hear it in his voice instead, soft with affection and husky with desire. “What would I wish for?” He brought a hand to her face, fingers lightly caressing her cheek before curling around to cup her jaw. “Everything I could ever want is right here.”

Kira didn’t know how to reply to that, so she didn’t. Instead, she leaned forward to press her lips to his. With the way he responded, she was sure she got her point across.

Stars continued to streak across the sky, but neither of them paid them any mind, too wrapped up in each other to notice.

[duchessfics]

Fright Night

(https://clqrkkent.tumblr.com/post/179164121180/billie-dean-howard-medium-to-the-stars-in)

(https://yourghostcat.tumblr.com/post/179898885939/what-are-you-talking-about-you-cant-work)

Billie x Fem!Reader x Wilhemina

Warning(s): I don’t think anything??? There’s a haunted house, but it’s not that much

Summary: For Halloween night, you and your girlfriends go to a special haunted house experience. And while you like some scary things, you are glad you have your girlfriends with you to go through it.

Word Count: 3988

A/n: This is the last fall/halloween piece! I honestly can’t believe I wrote and published something for six weeks now. I will definitely be slowing down a little bit since the end of the semester is coming up for me. But I had a great time doing this and I hope you enjoyed each piece as well. This one is a little longer, but it is the idea that made me want to do this in the first place so I hope you like it!

Sentence Prompts from @forever-rogue (Here’s the link to the original post)

12. “I paid $50.00 for this haunted house. I better die.”

19.  “Let’s split up.” “Let’s not.”

30.  “No?? Of course I’m not scared…who gets scared of…floating objects or…um weird sounds? Not me, that’s for sure.”

46. “OH MY GOD SHUT UP THEY’RE GOING TO KILL US!”

52. “Mmm, I appreciated that little murmuring you did in my ear.” “….That wasn’t me.”

67. “Has that scarecrow always been out there?”

The parking lot is packed with both vehicles and people as Wilhemina slowly eases her way into a parking spot. Once she jams the shift into park, she groans, “Why are we doing this again?” Her complaint is followed by a group of teens yelling and laughing. 

You giggle and say, “It’s Halloween! We’ve got to celebrate somehow. And most of these people are going to the lower tier haunted houses, we’re going to the most exclusive one.” Her slender hand twists the keys, killing the engine as she grumbles, “I paid $50 dollars for this haunted house. I better die.” Then your other girlfriend chuckles from the passenger seat and soothes, “Oh Mina, darling. We’ll be back in the car before you know it. And you can count on us to protect you from all of the spooky monsters.” To end her sentence she presses a kiss to the red head’s rosy cheek making you giggle from the back. 

Wilhemina merely scoffs and retorts, “That’s never going to happen. If anything, you’ll both come to me for protection.” Then she steps out of the car, shutting the door with a purpose. You and Billie follow, and the blonde comes around, biting her bottom lip before she purrs, “Would that be that bad, sweetheart?” The only answer is an eye-roll and her grumbling, “Let’s just get this over with.” As you walk to the VIP entrance, you skip ahead of them, looking back with a mischievous smirk on your lips.

You make it up to the ticket booth first and explain that you’ve already purchased your tickets and tell him the name it should be under. By the time he confirms your purchase, you feel both of your girlfriends come up behind you. You look to them and give a small smile, grateful they are doing this for you. Then he says, “Before you head out, we need you to put any valuables and belongings in one of our lockers.” 

Immediately Wilhemina’s eyebrows nearly meet her hairline as she says, “Excuse me?” Oh boy. The man stiffens up and you try to ease the tension as you feel her stiffening and soften her growling tone by saying, “I think what she means is to ask about if something should happen while we are out there.” Adding an apologetic smile. 

The man relaxes a little and replies, “There are staff members throughout who have walkie talkies if something should happen. But we’ve never had anything happen.” From behind, you hear the red head humph, but the three of you drop off your phones and wallets in the locker. Then it automatically locks, and you walk out to a minibus where three other people sit. Billie sits beside you, hugging you close and placing a kiss on the top of your head as the driver begins the journey.

Your nerves collect as butterflies in your stomach and flutter faster as the driver takes you further into the woods. But everyone keeps pretty quiet, preparing for the challenge ahead. Finally, the bus slows to a stop just outside of a creepy abandoned house. 

They turn back to face you and say, “Each group will get a flashlight and a map to find your way out of the ghost town. However, three pieces of the map are hidden throughout the town so you will have to find all of those first. And just as a reminder the scare actors are allowed to follow or chase you around, but they are not allowed to touch you so please do not touch them.” Each person exits the vehicle and you take the flashlight while Wilhemina takes the map—or at least the small chunk of map you currently have. 

Before the driver gets back on the bus, they ask, “Any questions?” You all look to each other, but no one says anything, so they give you a smile and say, “Well good luck! You’ll need it.” Umm...what? Your brows furrow at his comment and you begin to wonder what actually lies ahead. Surely it’s not that intense you tell yourself. They can’t touch you, they were probably just being dramatic. The bus drives off leaving you in the dark with only the sound of crickets and light breeze blowing through the trees.

The other three people practically run in laughing and you hear a scream almost immediately making you stiffen up. Maybe this was a bad idea. Both of your girlfriends look to you and Billie asks, “You ok?” You nod and reply with a braveface, “Yeah.” But you bite your lip and say in a quieter tone, “But could I hold your hand please?” The medium gives you a reassuring smile and murmurs, “Of course, babygirl.” 

She takes the flashlight in one hand before holding out her other for you to take. You relax feeling her next to you and are glad to have her warmth radiating around you. Then Wilhemina follows behind as you and Billie begin to walk into the house and you take a deep breath, trying to keep your cool.

The first room you walk into is strung with spider webs and fishing lines hanging from the ceiling made to feel like you’re walking through the spider webs. Your body shivers at the feeling of them and just as you get through, someone jumps out making you jump and giggle into Billie’s arm with her chuckling as well. Well that wasn’t so bad.

The next room you enter is much gorier and there is a man who carries a chainsaw pacing around. As he revs it up and comes towards you, you giggle and snuggle into Billie. You’ve got this. This is going to be a piece of cake. The house continues, showcasing clowns, zombies, and what looks to be vampires. Finally, you walk out to the back porch of the house and see it overlooks a wild west-style ghost town.

There are a couple people who walk down the main dirt road, looking to their map for guidance, but the whole setting is eerily quiet, the main sound being the wind blowing through the town with an occasional scream. Wilhemina struts forward past you both and looks from the map to the street as she says, “Let’s split up.” 

Oh god. Has she seen any scary movie? You stiffen up at that idea and squeak, “Let’s not.” The red head turns back to face you and takes slow deliberate steps towards you as she murmurs, “If I recall correctly, this was your idea. Now don’t tell me you’re actually scared now, darling.” By now she stands close enough to feel her breath fan over your face, her dark lips curved into a smirk. 

You let out a sad attempt of a laugh and reply in a high-pitched tone, “No?? Of course I’m not scared… who gets scared of…floating objects or…umm weird sounds? Not me, that’s for sure.” And her eyes narrow in response. Even you aren’t impressed with your explanation. 

But before she can say anything, Billie says, “Mina let’s just stick together.” Then her fingers crawl up Wilhemina’s arm as she purrs, “Strength in numbers, right honey?” The woman in purple removes Billie’s hand from her arm before saying, “Well she can take the lead since she doesn’t seem to be scared.” And she hands over the map with an evil glint in her dark brown eyes. So it’s going to be like that? Challenge accepted. 

You clear your throat and try to confidently say, “Well it looks like the first place to go is the saloon which looks to be,” you pause, looking between the map and the terrain before pointing and continuing, “I think it’s the third building ahead.” Once you say that, you look to them to start walking, but Wilhemina gives you the flashlight and says, “Go ahead. We’ll follow our little fearless leader.” Immediately Billie says her name, but you jut out your chin and answer, “Fine.” And there is a little thrill that passes through you as you see the shocked expression within her darkened eyes. Then you begin to take confident strides towards your first destination.

However, as you step onto the creaky boardwalk in front of the saloon, you pause, feeling your confidence quickly slipping away. But you take a deep breath and slowly push the swinging doors open with them squeaking the whole time. So much for subtlety. 

Before you walk in, you turn on the flashlight and take small timid steps trying to get the lay of the land. Your girlfriends follow you in and you shine the light over to your left. But you let out a cry as a bloodied cowboy jumps out at you. Your hand covers your hammering heart and he bursts out the door with his laughter ringing out in the silence. That’s when you see both women stifling their laughter and you smile saying, “So much for the fearless leader thing.” 

Then you walk up to them and say, “You can take the lead. Actually please do.” Billie takes the flashlight once more in one hand and holds Wilhemina’s hand in the other, tugging her along before she can say no. Then the medium looks back to you and gives you a wink before saying, “I’ve got you babe.”

As you walk further into the saloon, someone screams outside making you gasp and look to the door, anticipating the worst. But your attention gets drawn by someone intertwining her fingers with yours. You look back expecting to see Billie, but it’s Wilhemina. She gives you a ghost of a smile and murmurs, “Keep coming, darling.” How can she make you feel like melted butter so fast? 

You silently thank her for taking your hand and let her lead you over to Billie who stands behind the bar. She looks around, using the flashlight, but pauses, looking to one of the shelves as she says, “I think I found it.” Then she bends over to pick up the paper held under a bottle. As she does, Wilhemina lets out a hum of approval, making the blonde ask, “Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” Both you and Wilhemina chuckle and she replies, “Of course.” 

Billie straightens up, holding the piece and murmurs, “As much as I would like to show you both more, the room is a little too dusty and would ruin my discarded clothes.” Then she saunters over and gives you the map piece. You position it to fit with the other piece as her and Wilhemina debate if she would actually have sex in a public place. If you had to bet, you would guess she’s probably already done it. And from the smug look on her face you can tell you’re right.

Once you’ve got it placed, you interrupt their conversation and say, “I think the next place to go is the jailhouse.” They both come closer to look over your shoulder and you find yourself leaning into their warmth. Wilhemina comments, “It looks like it’s four or five buildings down.” Then Billie smirks and says, “I’ll take the lead.” She struts ahead of you both, her heels making a light tap on the worn floorboards. 

You look to the woman in purple who stands next to you and silently ask to take her hand, looking to her through your lashes. She lets out a dramatic sigh and says, “Yes you can take my hand.” You grin, quickly interlocking your fingers with hers before nuzzling into her arm a little and murmuring, “Thank you, Mina.” She begins to walk, guiding you both and softly replies, “You’re welcome.” and you both catch up to Billie.

Luckily no one jumps out at you when you enter the creaky, dimly lit jailhouse. So, you release Wilhemina’s hand, feeling emboldened to look around on your own. This isn’t that complicated and the scares are minimal...somewhat. 

All three of you part from each other and look for the next piece but come up empty handed. So, you walk over and enter the cell Billie is currently in, thinking two sets of eyes may be better than one. Plus you enjoy being close to her as much as you can. 

As you step closer to her, she turns and says, “Mmm, I appreciated that little murmuring you did in my ear.” What? You freeze up, eyes going wide as saucers as you whisper, “…That wasn’t me.” Then a bloodied prisoner emerges from the darkness with an evil grin. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Immediately you stumble back to get away but end up pinned against the cool bars of the cell and all you can focus on is him coming closer to you.

However, as he comes closer you see he holds a piece of paper in his hand and realize it’s the map piece. He holds it out with bloody fingers and you cautiously go to take it, but he pulls it back with a teasing growl making you whimper. Well so much for this being a piece of cake. 

Luckily he holds it out again and lets you take the paper this time. Then he holds a finger to his lips as he backs into the darkened corner once more. Honestly fuck that guy. You just lost six months of your life to him. You inch your way out of the cell, keeping your eyes on the corner until you are outside the cell. Only then do you turn away and rush over to your girlfriends.

The three of you position the new part of your map and see it leads to your last destination: the bank. You can do this. How can it get worse? As you make your way to the exit you let out a small sigh of relief and say, “Only one more piece to go.” However, all three of you stop before you get to the door, seeing something out in the middle of the road.

 Billie is the first one to speak, saying, “Has that scarecrow always been out there?” This was no friendly Wizard of Oz scarecrow. It looks gnarly and terrifying with a bunched-up face and shadowed features. While it’s an obscure fear, you would take killer clowns or dolls over scarecrows any day. 

Wilhemina goes to walk out, but you grip her arm and whisper, “Can we wait a minute, please? It may leave.” Then it’s as if your prayers are answered and they slowly walk away, the footsteps heavy enough to be heard by you. They walk towards another group that’s outside and this is your perfect opportunity.

 Billie offers her hand and you take it, only then realizing you’re trembling. She squeezes your hand and soothes, “I’ve got you, babydoll.” Then the three of you step out, moving as quickly and quietly as you can to the bank.

As you walk, something shifts in the shadows making you curl into Billie, hiding your face. You can’t take much more. The medium merely chuckles and teases, “If I knew this would make you so cuddly, I would’ve done this much sooner.” You giggle as her thumb comes up to soothingly stroke your cheek, drawing you out of your hiding place. Has this really been that bad? Yes you have been scared shitless twice, but cuddling with Billie is a positive thing. And holding Wilhemina’s hand in public? A rare opportunity. 

Finally, you get to the bank and Wilhemina enters first. This is the darkest building you have been in, making you nervous for what other people may be in here. Meanwhile, the woman in purple bangs the flashlight against her hand a couple times, but the light is gone. She lets out a huff and mutters, “This flashlight is a piece of shit.” Then she sets it aside and pulls her phone out of her pocket, unlocking it before turning the flash on.

Both you and Billie look to her shocked and you stammer, “B-but we were supposed to leave those things behind.” Wilhemina scoffs, shining the light on you two as she turns back to face you and says, “Rule #1, never trust a stranger to keep your personal belongings. And don’t worry I have the car keys with me too.” 

Billie chuckles and shakes her head before saying, “You little minx. I should’ve known you would do that.” And you aren’t surprised either. Honestly a part of you agrees with her rule. 

You let go of Billie’s hand to look around, but try to stay close to them, getting exhausted from being so on edge. However, as you step further in, you hear a menacing growl and piercing scream almost directly outside of the bank. Oh, please no. Your head whips to face the entrance to the bank and you whimper, “Umm guys?” But you truly begin to panic when you turn back to see the vault door shutting after both of your girlfriends step in.

You run up to the door and try to open it, but it won’t budge. No, no, no. Shit what should you do? You whimper their names before saying, “It’s locked. I-I can’t get it open.” From the outside of the door, you hear Wilhemina growl, “Oh for fucks sake.” Then Billie says, “Angel, stay calm. We’re ok and you’re ok. Try to look for a combination to unlock the door. It’s probably at one of the tellers’ desks. You can do it, babygirl.” 

You let out a whimper, but reply, “O-ok.” Then you walk away from the door to look through the drawers of the first desk. Unfortunately without a light it’s difficult to see, but there is no sign of a combination. It’s fine, everything is fine. You have no reason to panic. Or at least you try to convince yourself of that. As you go to the second desk however, your blood runs cold as you see the shadow of the scarecrow coming towards the bank. 

Well when it rains it pours. You crouch down under the desk to hide in the foot space. Meanwhile you hear Wilhemina’s muffled voice say, “This is why I keep my phone on me, dear.” Then Billie’s muffled voice says something about taking joy in living in the moment. From their tones you can tell you need to find this combination soon before this ends with an argument and angry sex.

Panic rises within you as you hear the sound of heavy footsteps at the entrance of the bank getting louder and louder as they get closer. Then you nearly cry out when you see the scarecrow peek its twisted smiling face into the aisle of the desks. 

Don’t speak, don’t breathe, don’t even think. 

You keep perfectly still, holding your breath and thank your lucky stars when they walk away. If you lost six months before, you just lost a whole year off of your life. While the footsteps fade, they don’t leave the bank, so you slowly crawl over to the next desk and slowly look for any sign of a combination while trying to keep completely quiet. But there’s nothing so you crawl over to the next desk, holding your breath as listen to the thumping footsteps. You try to keep the cursing in your head quiet as you can, terrified of running into this...thing.

You look through everything and begin to lose hope but find a slip of paper with three numbers on it and you could cry tears of joy. But you keep cautious and crawl back over to the vault entrance where you still hear your girlfriends debating about living in the moment or planning ahead. 

You glance back to see the scarecrow is still here, but you are partially hidden from their view and your desire for your girlfriends outweighs your fear of them. What the hell, you’ve had a good life. So, you begin to twist the dial of the combination lock but hear movement behind you. No please, god. Please not now. You rush through the rest of the combination and the door opens.

As they walk out, Wilhemina says, “All I’m saying is one should be prepared for the worst so they can have the best experience.” To which Billie replies, “But you should also live in the moment or you’ll worry your whole life away.” But you cut them both off, whisper yelling, “OH MY GOD SHUT UP THEY’RE GOING TO KILL US!” That’s when they look down and see you curled up on the floor.

The medium looks around and says, “Darling…there’s no one here.” What? No. Well it’s a good thing, but now you look insane. You shoot up to stand and say as you look around, “But the scarecrow…I heard footsteps.” But you shake your head and look back to them, saying, “Never mind. Just…please tell me you have the map piece.” 

Wilhemina sports a proud smirk as she replies, “We found it and already placed it on the map, so we know where to go.” Oh thank god and the stars and everything else. You let out a sigh of relief and say, “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

You step out of your bathroom into the master bedroom, sleepiness making your eyelids heavy as you walk over to your king-sized shared bed. But you nearly have a heart attack and when Billie jumps out and scares you with a devilish grin. 

You let out a squeak and run over to climb up on the bed, snuggling under the covers and curling into Wilhemina who sits and reads a book. Her warmth makes you feel safe and you keep cuddled into her, practically crawling onto her lap. Then she lets out a sigh and scolds, “Billie did you really have to do that?” The blonde smirks as she crawls up on the other side of the bed and leans against the cushioned headboard before she wraps her arms around you and hugs your body close to her chest.

The vibration of her voice soothes your stiff body as she soothes, “Awe, angel I would protect you from any monster. You know that, right?” and as you look up to her sweet face, you can’t be that upset. So, you nod and reply, “I think so.” Then she pecks your nose and murmurs, “I promise I will.” And you smile as she rubs her nose against yours. That is one of the best feelings in the world. 

You feel Wilhemina shift behind you and turn back to see her reaching for the lamp making you cry out, “Wait!” The images of tonight flash through your mind as she threatens to make the room as dark as that bank. 

The woman in a dark plum negligee pauses her movements and watches you with a questioning stare. You sit up to face her and ask, “D-don’t you want to read some more…maybe?” She raises her eyebrow and replies, “You don’t want the light off, do you?” Well so much for staying subtle. Your cheeks warm in embarrassment and you look down as you shamefully nod.

But she goes back to sitting and says, “I’ll just finish this chapter.” When you both know she would never leave a chapter unfinished. But you thank her, giving her a kiss on the cheek before returning to Billie’s warm embrace. 

Being in between these two feels like heaven on earth and you practically purr. She rubs your back and says, “So maybe next year we can just hand out candy to trick or treaters?” You nod and reply in a drowsy voice, “Sure.” You would agree to anything with the sweet voice she uses. And as she massages your scalp, your body twitches from falling asleep too fast, but just as you begin to drift off, Billie murmurs, “Happy Halloween, babygirl. Sweet dreams.”

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss​ @saviorinsilk​ @chokemepaulson​ @versonstar​ @lush-les-lady​ @cordwliagoode​ @psychobitchtess​  @tasyahilker​

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[gayovwimagines]

Hi!! How would you feel about a dub con request for Y!Moira finally cornering her smol!obsession and getting them worked up and flustered before just having her way with them?? I just... Oh goodness I want that woman to pin me down and do terrible things to me and leave me overestimated and just craving her constant touch. Unnff 🤤

Notable tags! Dubious Consent and Yandere!Moria. Dubious consent is due to sex mist. Oh, and Blackwatch!Moira. 

“Hello there~ Do come in.” Moira spins around on her stool. Nonchalant. As if she had naturally noticed you walk in. Not eagerly watching the door, both her hands curled into a fist on the counter. Work in front of her, work all around her. Moira can’t pay any of it any due attention. Absolutely was not carefully monitoring the surveillance cameras on her personal holopad, clearance she isn’t authorized to have. Watching you walk down the halls, stopping to chat here and there. Moira made spiteful mental notes of the people daring to keep you from reaching her at the agreed upon time.  

“Hey!” You greet her back with a nervous grin. “You need me for some testing?”

“Yes, that is what my voice message conveyed.” Moira motions you over to her station with one elegant swoop of her hand, her slender fingers curling in elegantly, one after the other. She points to the stool to her left. “Have a seat.”

You plop down on the seat, as commanded, and patiently wait for Moira to tell you why she has called you here. You joined Overwatch a few months back. Agreed to test some of Moira’s… tamer creations and experimentations. In exchange for a more than just a decent amount of extra cash.

Moira has no problems with prolonged silence. Almost never feels the need to rush anything. She takes her sweet time poking and swiping at her holopad. Making doubly sure the doors to her lab are locked, and her work status is set to ‘do not disturb’, for any of her fellow peers who may feel the pressing need to bother her while she’s in the middle of snaring the only thing she’s been able to think about lately.

Moira’s cool, collected. It takes a lot to make the woman sweat. You, however, are already squirming around in your seat. Her vibe is palpable, you can’t make heads nor tails of it. Your gaze darts to her lap when she cocks her head to the side, assessing you unlike any other specimen she has gotten her hands on. It’s a look that makes your spine tingle. Gives you an abysmal feeling, like you’re about to be taken down by a predator peeking from the tall grass.

“Alright.” Moira puts her holopad away. Her tall, slender legs easily allow her to stand gracefully from her stool. “Allow me to check your vitals first, then we’ll get started.”

Moira’s no medical professional, though she could be one if she found any real interest in the practice. Smart enough and educated enough as she is.

She takes an old-fashioned stethoscope from one of her many neatly organized drawers, an ear thermometer, and a blood pressure cuff.

“Why am I here today?” you ask nervously, such an easily spooked girl you are.  

…Because I want you here. I desire you unlike any other. Because my fantasies of you have kept me up at night. I can’t stand it any longer. I need to know how soft you are, what you smell like during the throws of passion, what your lips taste of.

“I have a mist that needs testing.” She walks over to you with the blood pressure cuff in hand. Gestures to your arm and you offer it up to her.

“Oh…” Moira catches the visible lump and hears your audible gulp.

“Never fear.” She rubs your thigh assuredly, lingering longer than what is appropriate. Goes back to gingerly wrapping the cuff around your arm. Presses a button and it begins to tighten. “It’s simply a new version of an already existing and thriving product.” She rolls her ‘r’ and it sends a cascade of tingles down your spine, causing you to shiver like a cold gust of wind had run through you.  

“Oh, okay.” Nothing about your tone says that you trust her reassurance. “Was it developed by you?”

Dumb question. Coming from you, Moira answers nicely. “Of course, who else?”

You shrug. Moira carries on. Noting that your blood pressure is a bit higher than it should be. It doesn’t take much to understand why. She stands close. And holds onto the back of your neck firmly in her hand, while she takes your temperature. Finds it to be satisfactory. She moves onto your heartbeat. By far her favorite part. Getting that near to your chest, makes her feel young again. Like a horny, immature teenager getting so very close to something that is titillating and intimate and secret. You’re obviously a person who feels your body is something to be covered, and not something that is shared with everyone. You refuse to even change in front of fellow agents in the locker rooms…

…It’s maddening.  

She’d know. On a day, about a month back, she looked forward to casually finishing her workout at the exact same time you finished yours. Casually she followed you into the locker room, hoping. Hoping to get a glimpse of the body she’s been building up in her dreams. Only for you to remove your things from your locker and head into a curtained shower to change. Leaving Moira disappointed and heartbroken, robbed of her chance to take in you in all your bared glory.

Moira slips into the neck of your t-shirt. Presses the cold round hearing piece against your equally as chilly skin. Goosebumps rise on her arms before she even hears your heartbeat, added icing on the cake. It’s hypnotizing, the steady drumbeat of your heart. She closes her eyes feeling her own heartbeat rise just as yours too picks up its pace.

“Moira?” you whisper, alarm apparent in your tone.

When she opens her eyes, she finds that she’s leaning for forehead against your temple. Her hand and slender fingers dancing along the line of your spine. The air in the room has become thick and stagnant. And the listening piece has drifted downwards, along with her hand that is still holding it. Her pinky grazes across your nipple, Moira’s core jumps at the contact.

You gaze up at her with glassy, fearful eyes. Cheeks painted a rich hue of red. Heart hammering away at your ribcage.  

Moira removes the stethoscope. “My apologies, my head took a sudden leave.”

Giggling nervously, you shift. Squeeze your thighs together and readjust your t-shirt attempting and failing to hide how hard your nipples are now. “That’s okay, it happens.”  

You’re perfect, despite the high blood pressure, and ready to get started. So is Moira, she softly claps her hands together. “Up on the examination table.” She points toward the usual room.  

You hop up. Follow Moira to a separated examination room within the lab. The walls are made of smart glass; will darken and make the room private upon request. Not something that should be necessary today. But most definitely has been helpful, and will continue to be so in the future.  

As you climb onto the examination table, you trip over the stirrups. Moira adjusts the back until it’s just shy of a ninety-degree angle.

“Comfortable?” Moira drawls.

You nod. “Yes, thank you.”

Moira leaves the room momentarily to retrieve the aforementioned mist from a securely locked holding cabinet. She may have told you a small fib. The mist is not new, nor recently re-engineered. No need to fix what isn’t broken. It’d be illegal, if it were to ever get to the government. The public’s opinion would be sour on it. Moira supplies it to clients mostly by word of mouth that runs rapid in the type of social groups this kind of mist is most popular in, with a substantial price tag.  

“Alright,” Moira says as she reenters the room. She pushes down on the cap, twists and the cap is released. “Take a few breaths in through your nose,” she commands, enjoying the way your chest rises as you breathe. Her adrenaline drip switches on as she hovers the bottle over your face. Heart racing. Can’t wait to witness the effects. She may be starting to sweat. “On a count of 3, take a big breath… 1… 2… 3…”

She pushes down on the nozzle. A dense mist escapes, blanketing your face as you inhale through your nose. Moira’s whisks her face away. Realizing that, in her excitement, she forgot to be thorough. With no mask on her face, she risks encountering some second-hand side effects.  

With the knowledge that the mist should be taking its course quickly, she recaps the bottle and stashes it away inside her lab coat pocket. She grips each of your legs individually, rolling her shoulders as she goes, fingers digging. Gradually she leans into your personal space, pupils blown. “Tell me,” she croons. “How are you feeling?”

You gulp, darling eyelashes fluttering as you try and remember how to speak. “Ah, um.” You lick your lips and now they’re shiny, and all Moira can stare at. “Hot… I feel hot…”  

Moira hums so low it sounds like a purr. “Tell me more. Be descriptive.”

“I—I… um…” You look down your body but struggle to get past the embarrassment of what’s happening to you there.  

“Don’t be shy.” She leans in more. Her hips wedge between your legs. The closer she gets, the farther your legs spread. “Remember, I’m a professional.”

You grasp onto her coat as she aligns her crotch with your own and presses firmly. You throw your head back, gasping for air. Hips rolling into her own. Not even aware of it. “Oh God, I’m so hot,” you whine pitifully.  

“Allow me to help you with that.” Moira snakes her hands under your shirt. Follows the unique curve of your hips all the way up into your waist, eventually pulling your t-shirt over your head. All with you mewling with every inch of skin that she caressed. She steps back, in order to rid you of your shoes and leggings. Stumbles over her own foot, the misstep making her realize just how much her head is spinning. Just…

…Look at you. Already living up to and far beyond her fantasies. Cold sweat trickling down your temples. Looking at Moira with two of the prettiest fuck-me eyes she’s ever seen. You can’t seem to stop biting your lips, so they’re starting to swell; two puffy kissable buds. Dainty hands opening and closing, searching for anything they can cling to. Hips, on the constant move.

“Exquisite,” she purrs.  

Your underwear is nothing special. A run of the mill bra with sensible multicolored cotton panties. But oh– are those panties soaked and is that bra just a tug away from revealing the heaving breasts beneath it.

Nestled back in between your legs, Moira throws off her lab coat, and drapes herself over your smaller stature, completely engulfing you. You cling to her, desperately wanting her weight and her warmth to envelop you. Thinks on saying something that will keep up the façade, but decides that the situation is well beyond pretending now. Instead, Moira decides to give that busy mouth some attention. Licking, biting, gasping, leaving it wide open— baby girl clearly has an oral fixation.

Slowly she feeds you her fingers. You close your lips around them, sucking while Moira moves them in and out languidly. She dives in a little deeper, causing you to gag. But with the gag, comes a full body moan. So, Moira keeps on doing it. You close your eyes, really getting into it. Cradling and curling your tongue around her fingers. Eagerly take another finger into your mouth. It stretches your mouth open in a lewd way and gives Moira’s core something more to get jumpy about.    

The sight is lovely and the sounds you’re making are musical, but she needs to taste that slutty mouth. She slowly removes her fingers, trailing lines of saliva down your chin and down into your neck where she holds you down. When she kisses you, it’s consuming and a lot all at once. But it is just what you need right now. Tender pecks wouldn’t be satisfactory to you, something she can heap upon you later. Here and now, she invades your mouth with both her own moans of pleasure and her long, skilled tongue. Sucking and nipping at your lips that are so clearly unused to having so much devotion.

Still holding your neck firmly, Moira slips her other arm between you. Down into your underwear, flooded with your arousal. You stop kissing her, but that doesn’t mean she stops kissing you. Your breath stolen away by how relieving Moira’s touch is, simply resting on top your engorged clit. Your eyes glaze over with an impeccable stupefied sheen. She rolls her fingers over your highly sensitive nub, as you seize up, latching onto her shirt dangerously tight. Seems pop, she swears she hears something tear.

When you finally get your breath back, your ministrations are weak to the ears but consistent. A small choked whimper with every breath. A few curses sprinkled in between your attempts to keep kissing her back. The overwhelming sensations take you away every time, and even manage to steal your lips away from her. You throw your head back, hands lurching to grasp onto the sides of the examination chair, back arching more than it ever has.

A problem, with a simple solution. She’ll just have to ravish your neck then.

“I’m gonna—” You stop to catch your breath. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Go on then,” she states coolly. Moira latches onto your neck, treating the soft skin there just as rudely as she did your delicate lips, and rubs your clit with new vigor.

You go silent for a moment before it all hits you at once. An orgasm that you feel all the way from the top of your head to your curling toes. Unable to comprehend that you are experiencing the best orgasm you’ve ever had. All consuming pleasure that leaves your body weak. Complete satisfaction takes over for a blissful, precious few moments where you can catch your breath and maybe have a chance to think a little clearer. But it’s gone in a flash, all that agonizing want and desire comes back full force. And your body is in desperate carnal need once again.        

Once your body stops writhing, Moira rears back. Somewhere amidst all the commotion, your bra straps fell to the wayside. She grabs it at the middle and gives it a good tug. It slips down with no problem, exposing your breasts to Moira’s mercy. You will be leaving this room with both your nipples thoroughly abused and your breasts marked. She must know, if, in your current state, she can make you cum, simply by overstimulating them. But… for now… she has other curiosities that are pressing.

Moira leaves you for a moment. Having a destination, a… drawer in mind. But needs to take a moment just to fall back against the counter, housing said drawer, so she can shove her hand into her own underwear, and give her throbbing clit some of the attention it’s been urgently screaming out for. You pout when you see it, jealous of the attention you’re not getting.    

Moira nods towards your crotch. “Don’t leave yourself wanting.”

Your eyes light up, suddenly remembering that touching yourself is a thing. Immediately you dive between your thighs. Rub your clit and grasp onto a breast. Groping the meat of it and tweaking your nipple rudely.

“Look at me,” Moira demands. The way you snap to her attention does something to make her weak in the knees. Your eyes were trained on your own nipple rolling between your fingers. As nice as that is, she wants to look you in your eyes while she gets herself off.

It happens for her faster than it typically would. It must either be you, or she got a small dose of that mist. She clings to the counter for purchase, leans all her weight back into it as her knees threaten to buckle. She moans lowly, falling silent in the moment when the pleasure crashing through her is too much for her to be able to breathe at the same time. “Yess,” she hisses, as the intensity in her body starts to dissipate. She milks her orgasm of every last little pang and shock it had left, softly rubbing until she was finally satisfied. Removing her hand for her underwear, she spins around, leaving her pants undone and hooks a finger under the handle of the drawer she had in mind.      

“How long does this… this…” You gasp, struggling to find a word to describe what is happening to you. Sex mist, plain and simple. The best on the market. “…Mist usually last?”

Moira’s taken aback. You managed to form a coherent sentence. Shocking. “The effects typically wear off within 4 to 6 hours.”

“Oh my God,” you gasp.

“Don’t worry,” Moira assures as she pulls open the drawer she had in mind, it slides open smoothly. Neatly lined from front to back with medical grade dildoes of various sizes. She ponders on which one she should use on you. Looks back and once again lays eyes upon your dripping cunt, turns her attention back to the drawer and grabs, not the biggest one, but one that would still be described as “huge”. She grasps it at the base, takes it out, and shoves her hips against the drawer to shut it. Showing you what she has in store for you she croons, “I’m here for you, acushla~”

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch8 V x Reader

Chapter 8 - A Taste of Heaven

NSFW

____________________________________

May 30th, 3:12 pm

As V touches down, his snow-white hair fading back to black, he loses his balance and falls to one knee. You’re still standing where he left you, having watched the entire display of raw, unrestrained power from a safe distance. Now, you run towards him in concern. Despite the last few days of his sullenness and almost total disregard of you, you are drawn to him by an almost electric pull.

“V!” You gasp out as you reach him, leaning down to help him stand. “Are you alright?”

He ignores your arms reaching out to help him rise and utter agony flashes across his face as he grunts, straining to lift his own body weight and favoring his injured left side heavily.

“I’m fine,” he mutters stubbornly.

Your vision swims as rage overtakes you at his words. He just single handedly wiped out eleven Empusa and a Queen, something you would have needed hours to accomplish, if you even could, then collapses, and expects you to accept that he’s fine?!

 Like. HELL.

You tremble with the force of your anger as the silence and painful lack of contact with V over the last few days overwhelms you, vision going red as you reach forward to land a hard smack across his cheek. His eyes widen as he recoils, lips parting in shock as he almost falls to the ground, but he manages to stay upright as you scream at him.

“What the actual FUCK, V?! You are NOT FINE! Goddamnit, I’m here to help you stay alive, not watch you exhaust yourself to the point of near death! LET ME HELP YOU or I swear to GOD, I will punch you in the throat so hard Nightmare will feel it from your fucking gorgeous HAIR!!!”

You pause, breathing hard as your rage cools from a boil to a simmer in your gut. V looks at you through his silky hair you so enjoyed touching and smirks. SMIRKS!

“You think my hair is gorgeous?” he asks you innocently.

You shove him in the chest and he staggers, catching himself with his cane before he falls. You give him your very best Death Glare, with capital letters thank you very much, and he starts laughing!

The sound almost, almost, shakes you out of your rage.

“This isn’t funny, V! I know you’re some badass devil hunter summoner and you probably have a fourth fucking summon hidden in your goddamn EYELASHES, but – goddamn it stop laughing!”

He struggles for a moment but finally stops laughing. He looks at you earnestly, the most heartfelt look he’s given you in days. Your anger deflates, retreating into a sharp sadness as you wonder what’s been going on in his head to have made him treat you so coldly.

His eyes narrow and he bites his lip, looking away, and you realize you must’ve asked that question out loud. Refusing to retreat, you cross your arms and wait for him to answer you and prepare another slap if he says something stupid.

“Y/N…” he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable with what he needs to say. “I apologize for my behavior. I have not been… myself since I was injured. I don’t do well when I feel powerless. There are things about me I cannot tell you, but going forward I will treat you with more kindness. Can you forgive me?”

You growl deep in the back of your throat, not satisfied with his half-answer. “That doesn’t answer my question, V. What’s going on with you?”

He looks at his feet, hiding his emerald gaze from you behind his hair.

“I… I allowed my frustration to get the better of me. We’re running out of time to catch up, and it gets under my skin. I… believed our interactions to be a distraction that would slow us down even further, and I can’t allow any further delays. Again, I apologize.”

You huff, still not satisfied but realizing that’s the most straightforward answer you’re going to get. There’s still one last question he has to answer before you move on, though.

You reach out, not daring to even breathe as you rest your hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you again, waiting. You bite your lower lip, terrified of his answer but needing to know all the same.

“Do you really think this… I… am just a distraction and nothing more?”

You realize you’re crying again as you watch his face, searching for any shred of fondness or affection for you. His face shifts back to the flat, dead arrangement of his features he’s worn for the last few days and your heart breaks for an instant before his eyes fill with tenderness and his mouth twists into the tiniest of smiles. Your heart soars as he speaks.

“You are so much more that a distraction to me,” he finally responds, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and you smile gently at him, hesitantly leaning into his touch. It feels magical to have his skin on yours again, even just this small contact makes you dizzy with relieved tension and eased fears.

“Then I forgive you. Just DON’T. DO IT. AGAIN.” You punctuate the last few words with pokes to his chest and he strokes your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the remnants of your tears as he speaks.

“Never.”

____________________________________

Barely a half hour later, recognition stirs within your mind as you turn down a new street.

I know this place…

You walk a little faster, V doing his best to keep up as you stride to a familiar building. He frowns as he reads the sign aloud.

“Frank’s Bar and Grill? Why have we stopped here?”

“I used to work here and I think there may be something here to lift your spirits.”

You smile, spotting exactly what you were hoping to see in the parking lot. You push the door open and it thankfully opens; the demons appeared during business hours, it seems. V follows you inside the dark bar and pauses, waiting for his eyes to adjust. You know the bar well enough to not need to pause; the familiar booths and motorcycle memorabilia greeting you through the darkness like an old friend. You carefully pick your way behind the bar, arms outstretched just in case someone left a bar stool too far out or something. Your hand slides down the wooden bar, feeling the familiar grain of the oak under your fingertips until you reach the register. You duck down, looking beneath the counter and find what you’d been looking for – keys. You also take a moment to stow a couple mostly-full bottles in your bag with a mischievous smirk.

You stand up, triumphantly jangling the keys for V to hear.

“You’re about to feel so, so much better…”

As you walk back to V, you spot a long piece of shiny metal on your right. You smile and pick it up, glad to finally have a more suitable weapon. You give the metallic baseball bat a few swings, then head to V and lead him back into the sunshine outside, hastily wrapping the strap of your bag around the bat to free your hands.

The keys turn out to be for an old Yamaha motorcycle, dark blue and decorated with several tasteless stickers. The backseat is small and doesn’t have a back to it so V won’t be able to lean back. You grin at him as you climb into the driver’s seat and turn the key, the engine roaring to life. You chuckle as he jumps slightly at the sound and you toss him a helmet.

“See V? Told you we’d find a way to catch up. Look, it even has a mostly full tank of gas!” you shout as he approaches, struggling to be heard over the engine’s roar. He carefully gets on behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold on.

“Indeed you did! You do know how to drive this, right?” he yells in your ear. You twist the throttle in response, making the machine somehow make even more noise.

“Now hold on!” you shout and kick with your left foot while squeezing the lever on the left handlebar simultaneously, shifting into gear as you barely twist the right handlebar, and he grips your waist even more tightly as the bike smoothly rolls forward out of the parking lot. Once on the main road, you twist the accelerator again and kick, shifting into second gear as you build a little more speed. V’s hands on your waist grip you tightly but not painfully, and you take a moment to revel in his hands on your body, wondering what it would feel like for him to touch you in other areas. You can barely hear V over the bike’s engine as he yells at top volume.

“I’ve never been on one of these before!”

You smirk, enjoying the fact that you finally found something you can do that he can’t that directly contributes to his mission.

“Just don’t let go of my waist and lean with me during turns! Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” you shout back to him as you shift into third, zooming past areas that would have taken all day to walk through. You have to backtrack frequently as the roads are blocked by vehicles, debris, and the strange elevation changes caused by the tree. Your mind drifts as you drive, remembering the day your ex taught you to ride. A long and exhausting day, but even more exhausting was the man himself.

I’m glad I got away from him.

The wind rushes by you as you cruise through the city, time passing in a blur. You drive until dusk and finally slow in a residential area. Houses spread out around you, white picket fences and perfectly landscaped gardens like icing on a cake. You park in a cul-de-sac and V slowly lets go of your waist, giving you a slight pang at the loss of sensation. You stretch your arms to the sides, then take off the stifling helmet and dismount, V doing the same.

“We covered so much ground today. We might actually be able to meet Nero and Nico tomorrow,” he says happily. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this pleased; he almost seems to bounce as he strides to the nearest house.

“I hope they’re doing alright…” you respond, quickly catching up to him by the door. The house isn’t huge, a single story. You try the door and find it locked.

“Allow me,” V says dramatically and you back away instinctively. He gestures with one arm, summoning Shadow. She materializes in a blur, already barreling toward the door to the house. She crashes against it, ripping the door right off its hinges and flinging it ten feet into the room beyond. V gives her a rewarding pat as the pair of you head inside. She purrs loudly as you scratch under her chin as you pass, then vanishes in a cloud of black shards.

You try not to look at the photos lining the entryway of a happy family, but you find yourself hoping they escaped the carnage. The home is freezing cold, colder than outside. Someone must have left the AC on. You and V explore the house cautiously, wary of any demonic activity. Your eyes skim the living area, looking homey with a lumpy looking brown couch and oak coffee table set before the television. You turn left and find a kitchen, dirty dinner dishes still stacked in the sink. The linoleum floor clacks beneath your feet as you check the cupboards, finding pasta and a bottle of sauce to your immense pleasure.

“Help me look for a pot to cook pasta in, and a saucepan too,” you instruct him and he starts opening cupboards systematically across from you.

You try the stove top, fairly certain it won’t be functional but pleasantly surprised when a gas flame shoots out. V brings you a large pot and a laughably small saucepan. The water works when you turn the faucet and you lock eyes with V for a moment in utter joy.

“V… we might get to shower!” you tell him excitedly and he smirks at your enthusiasm.

You cook the pasta and heat the sauce, making a simple but satisfying meal for the two of you. You eat in near silence, too busy enjoying the food to talk. For a time the only sound is the clatter of silverware on plates, which V had brought you as well. You look over at him and see him slurp up some pasta that had been dangling from his full lips. You chuckle at the sight and he glances at you, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“You have a little sauce on your chin,” you tell him, and he wipes his chin with the back of his wrist, missing the sauce entirely. You laugh again and reach out a hand to help him.

“Here, let me,” you say, and he holds perfectly still as your fingers brush against his chin, his stubble scraping your fingertips and sending a jolt through you. Your hand trembles a bit, partially from fatigue and partially due to the sensation of touching him so intimately. He takes the opportunity to take your fingers in his mouth and you feel his warm tongue licking away the sauce you had removed from his chin, his mouth sucking gently.

 That feels… oh my…

His tongue caresses your fingers once more, the sauce long gone, and you barely suppress a moan as heat pools low in your stomach. He lets your fingers go and looks you right in the eyes.

“Delicious…” he whispers in a downright dangerously seductive tone and another surge of arousal rises within you, making your head feel light and your heart beat excitedly.

You swallow nervously at the sparkle in his eyes, the smirk on his tempting lips proving that he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you. You blush, suddenly overly aware of your unkempt hair and unwashed body.

“I… I’m going to go try the shower…” you stammer out and somehow manage to step away from him.

“I’ll be picturing you in there until I get my turn. Take your time,” he growls, eyes carefully watching your stride. Your body betrays you as you pause at his words, a heady gush of warm energy shooting from your toes to the top of your head, but you keep walking, determined to scrub away the filth of the last… however long it had been since your last actual shower.

You find the shower easily enough, barely noticing the blue walls and seafoam green towels on the rack. You fiddle with the knobs and are rewarded with a chilled spray of water. You wait, hoping for hot water, and almost cry in happiness when the temperature shifts. You strip, indulging yourself slightly and imagining V’s hands removing your clothes, and step into the hot spray.

You ruminate on the last few days, remembering all the interruptions in moments of almost-kissing, and you growl in frustration.

 Damn demons. Damn Griffon. Damn V’s dumb ego and rush to deal with Urizen. All I want is five minutes, five minutes to fucking kiss the guy…

You imagine what it might feel like to have his lips against yours, that adorable smirk opening to let you taste him. The flirting, the banter, the almosts have been driving you mad with desire.  You remember the feeling of leaning on his shoulder, sharing trail mix. His arm wrapping around your waist after you hugged him. The look of hunger in his emerald eyes each time you were within inches of each other.

You need release like a blanket on a snow day, and your hand drifts to your stomach, sliding lower to open yourself up. The thoughts keep coming, ever faster. The press of his lips on your wrist, his hand in yours. The timbre of his voice as he’d confessed his interest in you. Your fingers in his mouth, oh my… His hands in your air, washing it.

Your fingers move faster and faster against your sensitive bundle of nerves, quiet gasps escaping your lips as you rock your hips against your hand. Blood thunders in your ears as you put pressure on that one little spot, rubbing hard and fast now. You think of the feel of his hair through your fingertips, the silky softness of it, and you wonder how he’d react if you pulled it and you come undone as you visualize the look on his face, a single long moan escaping you as your release pulses through your body in a tidal wave of pleasure.

____________________________________

V

V hears the water turn on and smiles, extremely gratified by your reaction to his playful teasing over dinner. He only pictures you in the shower for a moment before respectfully redirecting his thoughts. He stands, gathering the dishes together and bringing them to the sink.

 There’s no point actually washing them, considering the circumstances, but at the least I can clear the area so Y/N can cook if she wants to in the morning.

He reflects on the change within him since you slapped him and yelled at him. Seeing the rage on your face and remembering your obvious worry over the days prior to it had shaken something within him, something bold and hungry, that tiny voice in the back of his mind screaming as it finally broke the thick walls he’d built to contain it and took control. He didn’t want to ignore how he felt about you anymore; in fact, he couldn’t. If he’d ever had any chance of not caring for you, it was long passed.

His entire existence was centered around one purpose – to defeat Urizen, and goddamnit he wanted more than that! And he didn’t want to die most of all. Perhaps it was selfish of him, to picture a fantasy of being happy with you, but tonight he doesn’t care.

To pass the time, he explores the house more fully, indulging his curiosity. It seems a family of two women and a young child lived here, the pictures on the walls featuring them smiling and playing together. He finds the child’s room but doesn’t enter; it felt strange to even consider snooping on a child. Instead he wanders toward where the sounds of you showering are emanating from, assuming it leads to the master bedroom. His cane clicks against the wood flooring, sheath left in the main area of the home.

He mentally congratulates himself when he proves himself correct. The bed looks quite large, easily enough room for you both, and he smiles gently at the idea of sleeping next to you again. Maybe this time he’ll even have the nerve to touch you?

He hears a door open, and glances back to the bathroom to see you standing in the hallway wearing nothing but a towel. You walk toward him with lidded eyes and he swallows, mouth suddenly dry at the sight of your still-wet skin and damp hair.

“All yours, I left the water on for you too. Maybe next time we can share?” you say coquettishly as you pass him, and the image of your naked forms pressed together beneath the warm spray makes him harden slightly and he has to suppress a moan. He turns to watch you walk to the closet, your hips swaying more than normal and catches a whiff of the vanilla soap you used.

 Tease… two can play at that game.

“I doubt we’d get very clean… in fact, I guarantee it…” he says with a smirk as he walks away, leaving you to your thoughts. He reaches the bathroom and goes to close the door, then smirks and leaves it open a few inches. He starts removing his clothes, wondering if there was time to wash them as well. The leather of his coat stood up fairly well to demon blood and ichor, but his pants were a different story once again. Sighing, he reaches out to test the water.

It is a pleasing temperature, hot enough to make him feel comfortable. He steps into the spray eagerly, letting out a loud groan of pleasure as the water hits his exhausted body. He braces his unhurt arm against the wall, leaning into the water and letting it soak his hair and bandage. He tilts his face up into the spray, letting the water cleanse away all the time spent fighting and riding behind you.

Eventually, he looks at the available soaps and shampoos. Most are far too strongly scented for his liking, but one is a subtle lavender scent and he uses that on his hair. He massages the shampoo into his scalp and remembers the way you caressed his hair a few short days ago. He smiles, turning around to rinse away the suds.

He takes his time washing his body; to slip and fall here would be terribly embarrassing. As he reaches his groin, his thoughts return to the feel of your touch, the taste of your fingers mixed with pasta sauce, the sound of your laugh. He remembers the very first day you met, when you slid into him in the back of Nico’s van and absentmindedly strokes himself.

 I shouldn’t be doing this…

Yet his hand keeps moving, and the thoughts keep coming to mind. The glassy eyed look you got when he teased you. The way your arms felt around him when you bandaged him. The power of your body leaning during motorcycle turns. The feeling of kissing the soft skin of your wrist. All the moments that have been building between you run through his mind as his hand quickens, breath coming in pants now.

 I really shouldn’t be doing this…

His mind transitions from memory to things he hopes are yet to come and he pictures you lying beneath him, eyes glassy as he enters you for the first time. Imagines the taste of your mouth on his. Imagines his hands on your skin, touching you everywhere. Imagines the sounds you might make when you come undone, just for him.

At that, he explodes. He lets out a long, shuddering breath, trying to be as quiet as possible, but a tiny moan slips past his parted lips. He stands there, slowly pumping through his pleasure as his mind goes blank, his imagination finally satiated.

He finishes cleaning himself and shuts off the water, carefully stepping out of the shower to get a towel. His emerald gaze checks the door, seeing it still as he’d left it, untouched. He towels his hair and stares into the mirror as he wraps it around his waist.

 Get a hold of yourself. Focus.

The recently released voice within him voices the thought he’s been avoiding since the moment of his creation; I don’t want to. I want to live.

He turns away from his reflection with a sigh and steps out into the bedroom to find you in a pair of pajama bottoms and a tight t-shirt, lying in bed with the covers turned already for him and another set of pajamas laid out. He smiles, pleased to see the invitation. He watches your face as he stands before you, towel slung purposefully low on his hips and water still dripping down his patterned chest. You part your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you playfully as he steps forward to take the pajamas, turning only after you look away blushing.

He returns to the bathroom to change, still thinking about the way your blush makes you glow. He dresses quickly, exhaustion hitting him even as thoughts of you continue racing through his mind. He comes back to the bedroom, having not bothered with the shirt you’d left for him, and he relishes the way your glinting eyes roam his body as he approaches the bed. He yawns, and you smile as he joins you in bed.

You face each other silently for a moment, both enjoying the peace. You reach out to touch his hair, and his eyes drift closed. His face relaxes as you touch him and he leans into your hand. You stop and turn over, grabbing the hairbrush you’d found.

“Sit up, V. I’m going to brush your hair,” you tell him. He smirks but rises obediently, eyes still closed. You begin at the ends, working your way through the tangled mass of wet strands as gently as you can.

“Thank you,” he sighs contentedly. You brush his hair gently, the strokes soothing and full of tenderness he has not known since he was a child. You brush until all the tangles are gone, then gently press his shoulder to make him lie back down. You put the brush back and turn to face him again. Your hand reaches out to stroke his hair again and he chuckles.

“You really like my hair, eh?”

You blush but murmur a yes.

“What else do you like?” he asks softly, playfully.

Your hand moves from his hair to his neck to trace one of the dark lines of his tattoos.  You keep going, hand gliding down his chest. You scoot closer to him, until you’re only inches apart and he wraps an arm around you. He opens his eyes, meeting yours immediately. You gasp softly at the look of affection in his emerald orbs and he pulls you even closer to him. You can smell the lavender soap he used, already mixing with his natural scent. The combination is easily the best thing you’ve ever smelled.

You and V move in unison, closing the distance between you at long last, uninterrupted as you finally, blessedly feel his lips on yours. Your lips meet gently, cautiously. His mouth is so soft against yours you almost think you’ve imagined it. Then you hear him inhale deeply and press his lips more firmly against yours, moving against you deliciously. You moan softly and he pulls back.

“So that’s what heaven tastes like…” he whispers softly, and you stroke his cheek affectionately. He turns his head to kiss your palm, then settles against the pillows.

“Goodnight, my poet…” you whisper back.

“Goodnight, my little fox…” he murmurs, and you both drift into a deep, dreamless sleep, still holding each other close.

[timelessmulder]

commissioned fluffy starjack fic for @bioluminosity !! :D

It was not so much that Wheeljack and Starscream had radically different schedules - though, that was certainly part of it. It was more a matter of who could detangle themselves from work or projects first, before they stumbled to their shared apartment at some obscene hour of the morning. Starscream just so happened to be better at it than Wheeljack; removing himself from political debate was a skill he'd mastered over the years.

It was the rare occasion that Wheeljack beat Starscream to their shared apartment, but there he was. The work for the day had been completed, for the most part - there were always things to tweak, things to perfect - but Wheeljack had been shooed out by one of the colonists before he could linger too long. He left with very little argument, especially when other scientists heard his protestations and joined in with her recommendation, his reputation having proceeded him.

Evening had just begun to settle on the rebuilt Iacon, the skies beginning to darken and the lights of the city flickering on to welcome the nightlife. He took it in, still becoming used to the fact that the city seemed to be alive, even after months of being online since his near death experience.

He was still taking in a lot of things about the situation, really.

He stared out the apartment's living room window, one that overlooked one of the main streets below, as he ran a cloth between the joints of his fingers, to dislodge whatever grease and oil that had seen fit to seep in between his seams. His fins pulsed a soft blue light as his engine gently thrummed, body shifting into something mechanical, more instinct than anything else. Normally, he wouldn't mind the stains that could stick to his plating for days, but the war was over and he had time to mind such things. And, on top of that, he could consider Starscream something of a bad influence: the flier certainly enjoyed taking his time to preen, which meant all kinds of products scattered around their shared space, and often scoffed (verging on a sneer, though he was trying to tone that sort of thing down) at Wheeljack's lack of care.

("Doesn't it ever...stick?" he'd asked once, sounding more than a little mortified at the idea. He mimed having difficulty flexing his hand, as if to better illustrate his point.

Wheeljack just shrugged. "Not if you're careful.")

He was just bout to deposit the rag and trade it for a clean one to continue his work, when he heard the door to the apartment slide open. Wheeljack paused in his movements, and sent a glance over his shoulder for the briefest of moments, calling out a greeting to Starscream. He could hear Starscream say something in response, but it was the grumbling kind of complaint that was often accompanied by long days with diplomats from cultures vastly different from what they were used to, so Wheeljack wasn't able to make out anything that resembled words.

Then, there were footsteps coming his way. Soft treads that still carried the complete weight of someone exhausted of dealing with the bureaucracy of the rebuilding planet. Wheeljack did not turn around to greet Starscream, merely continued with what he was doing. The footsteps grew louder and louder still, until he could hear the whirring of frustrated fans; he could almost imagine the grinding of too tense gears under a deceptively relaxed frame. But the carefully kept and polished arms draped around his shoulders bore no tension, even under the plating. Starscream hummed softly in his ear, his engine revving ever so slightly to match the sound; it rattled pleasantly in Wheeljack's chest, and the sound held, buried underneath and almost smothered by all the annoyance, a pleased satisfaction.

"How were the meetings?" Wheeljack asked, after a moment of Starscream hovering by his ear. Almost nuzzling him, but not quite touching his face.

"Awful," was the reply. The sneer in his voice quelled Wheeljack's impulse to push into his loose embrace, if only a little. "You should hear some of these people."

"I've met Windblade. She ain't that bad."

Starscream drew away, and Wheeljack tried to ignore the twinge of longing in his spark, so his hands were planted against Wheeljack's shoulders. He let out a low scoff, and Wheeljack finally turned to him. At having to readjust his grip, Starscream's wings - already slanting upwards with the tension of his frustration - twitched, just once.

"Not her," he said. He rolled his eyes, with added rolling of his head on his neck to emphasize exasperation. Wheeljack had to bite back a laugh. "Everyone else," Starscream went on. "But-"

Sensing an oncoming list of complaints against the Cityspeaker, Wheeljack reached up to cover one of Starscream's hands with his own. Starscream glanced down at his hand, trailing up his arm to where some stains still lingered, then he looked back up at Wheeljack with a low huff.

"Fine," he said, having caught the meaning. "I don't want to talk about it, anyway." He withdrew his hand, and tapped a finger under one of Wheeljack's fins. He smirked, lips parting just enough to show off his fangs, as he leaned in a little closer, a new victory at hand. "I'm going to clean up. And once you finish that, I expect to see you in bed." Starscream pressed his forehead to Wheeljack's for just a moment, before drawing away to place a ghost of a kiss on Wheeljack's forehead.

As he stalked off towards the shower, Starscream didn't even bother to cast a look over his shoulder as he said, "And don't you dare get a drop on anything."

There was a thinly veiled threat of murder in his words, and Wheeljack supposed he could appreciate Starscream making an effort at being overt about it.

It took some time to get the last of the stains off his plating, but he was sure that even with the shower he had taken earlier there were still things caked into his joints. There always were. Still, he tossed the rag he had been using to the side and stood to make his way to the bedroom, where Starscream was already making himself comfortable. He watched for a moment, in the doorway, as Starscream stretched out wings that hadn't seen flight in a few days before tucking them close to himself so he could better lie down.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked, giving a small smirk as he fluttered his wings in invitation.

At that, Wheeljack rolled his eyes, but stepped into the room and towards the bed. He perched on the edge of it beside Starscream, who took no time in draping himself across Wheeljack's shoulders. Face carefully positioned to avoid his fins, Starscream nuzzled against him, a showing of affection he may not have performed had he been more awake. Or, he thought with an amused rumbling of his engine, if there wasn't anyone else around to see it.

He nuzzled back, engine transitioning to a deep purr. And he thought, in some corner of his mind, about how he never in a million years thought he'd be in a place like this. But he also never thought Starscream would save his life.

"I'm tired," Starscream mumbled, pulling Wheeljack close. He placed a light kiss on Wheeljack's cheek.

"I can tell," Wheeljack replied.

They rearranged themselves, with Wheeljack curled into himself, kibble tucked and folded close to his back, as Starscream wrapped his arms around his chest to hold him close. Wheeljack leaned back against him, and Starscream buried his face into Wheeljack's neck. The room fell into silence as neither of them spoke, allowing the rumbling of their harmonious purrs to take over. It was at that point, a matter of comfort and enjoying company, discussion could wait for the morning.

It wasn't long before even their purrs dwindled into nothing, as sleep over took them.

[kidneysquid]

Freak (preview of part 3)

Hello my lovelies! 

So sorry for the delay. I am currently in the Quebec providence of Canada on vacation with my family. 

I still have my lap top with me but there are a few challenges.

One: I am with my family, and it’s awkward writing into the smutty details with them around (quite the mood killer).

Two: I am skiing and hiking on a daily basis so I don’t have as much time as I’d like to write even though it’s my drug at this point.

Three: Part 1 and 2 were already written when I first posted them, hence why they were so long. While I have over 30 pages worth of drafts and notes on the story, I spend extensive amounts of time editing and rewriting (I have a strange writing process).

I am SO SORRY for how short this is. But I’m honestly debating on just doing posts that are 1,000 to 2,000 words a post to give you guys satisfaction and to give me more time to perfect my chapters.  

I know my character (played by Harry) in this is kinda OOC but NOT TO WORRY. He is still his dark demon self. This story will always be dark despite it’s moments of seeming light. 

I AM ALWAYS EDITING AND ADDING TO MY CHAPTERS and while have the dates of additions on each post, so I suggest re-reading them if you want :)

Warning: Language and explicit content and triggers

Enjoy! 

“Mm…” Soft sheets tickle my cheek.

I know where I am.

I’m home. In my apartment. Jax is purring in his corner of the bed. The white, ‘half dick’ mark splattered on his cute little otherwise black face. Leaning against his white sock paw.

The redolence of honeysuckle incense fills my nostrils.

I forgot that cozy feeling I always get in my bedroom. Filled with all the tapestries and black and white photographs I took in college. My deep purple drapes and light purple sheets.

I open my eyes, and for the first time I’m not upset to see how messy it is. Clothes scattering the floor. The oriental rug tilted to the side. Not an empty space of surface on my desks and drawers.  

I always told myself each time I’d manage to get my room clean that I would keep it that way.

It never happens.

I lean up on my right elbow lifting to get up, but something long and heavy keeps me pinned to the bed.

Wait, where did that come from?

 I shuffled lightly against comforting sheets. The honeysuckle scent was gone to my chagrin. Just clean, must. Masculine. Light spice.

I twisted my neck hearing it crack. It was laying on something hard. I was on my right side, as always. Thanks to the car accident I was in that destroyed my left shoulder when I was eighteen.

My lids were too heavy when I tried opening them.  

The steady hum of Baby Cat’s purrs was replaced by the unmistakable tapping of rain. On the roof and windows.

Rain

My favorite sound in the world.

Car rain in particular. 

Even after arriving at my destination, I’d sit in the driver’s seat with my engine turned off and remain engulfed in the comforting pitter-pattering beats bouncing on the roof in steady rhythms.

There was a stale decaying taste in my mouth. When I parted my lips I realized it was the distinct flavor of morning breath.

Really bad morning breath.

I swallowed hearing the familiar pop in my eardrums, unmistakably from clenching my jaw throughout the night. 

Ever since I was a little girl I’d always had problems with grinding my teeth in my sleep. The dentists told me if I didn’t wear a mouth guard at night I would ware them down to my gums.

Mom always told me it was from the night terror’s I’d experienced at a young age.

She never believed me when I told her dad was the one who started them. Not intentionally.

They say night terrors mostly occur in those who’ve experienced sexual trauma at a young age.

Dad never meant it though. He didn’t realize that his mistake would fuck me up for life.

But I don’t want to think about that now though.

I groaned wincing at the usual ache of a filled bladder upon waking.

Human bodily functions can be such a bitch sometimes.

Something warm and heavy was circled around my waist. Whatever it was, the fabric of my shirt was damp with a starting layer of sweat under its weight.

Dear Hyperhidrosis: Fuck you.

I finally opened my eyes and my heart stopped. There was a chest with facing swallows beneath the collar bones.

I trailed my eyes. There was something that looked like a cursive lowercase “g” on the front of his shoulder. Then the date “1957” above the end of his right collar bone.

My pulse throbbed in my veins. Frozen sweat trickled my forehead and the back of my neck. I was the fawn that unknowingly fell asleep in the bear’s den. And any movement to sneak out of the cave would surely wake him up.

But in this case, I was in his claws.

I finally lifted my gaze to his face.

He was truly pleasing to look at.

When he wasn’t t talking that is.

When he wasn’t doing anything for that matter.

But when the devil sleeps, he’s peaceful. Unaware of the world of pain and destruction he created.

How can something so horrible be beautiful at the same time? We are taught as children that beauty represents good. But as we grow older we realize it’s often used to mask the evil.

My left arm was folded and squished between our chests. I tried to move away but to my horror realized I was attached to him. My right arm was losing circulation with his weight on top of it. To make it worse, our legs were tangled beneath the sheets.

I always preferred sleeping with a pillow between my legs. It felt great for my lower back. Also a light pool of sweat would tend to form between my thighs when I sleep with my legs together.

No not like that.

Another fuck you to hyperhidrosis.

I tried to move but my arm, numb at this point, wouldn’t budge beneath him.

Fuck.

This is why I’ve never been a good sleeping partner. (Sleep in the literal sense that is.) I always got complaints about how much I move around in my sleep. I was a restless sleeper. My family would even wake up from the resounding hits on the walls.Thanks to my vivid dreams and I would always always always wake up in a position where any non-subtle movement would wake the poor victim sharing the bed with me. Leaving me lying in discomfort. Against heat.

I laid there. Frozen. Watching the steady in and out movements of his chest. His breaths were smooth and tickling my face.

The tensing in my shoulders ached.

I trailed my eyes down the arm snaked around me, biceps lightly budging. Maybe if I could somehow ease it off me then I’d be able to scoot away.

But that would be ignoring the fact my other arm’s still anchored to the bed.

I let out a breath and rested my head back down. Fading scratches trailed down his chest, his shoulders and his upper arm

Good.

He’s not the only one who gets to leave marks.

That’s when I caught the design beneath his sternum on his upper belly. I’d only had a quick glimpse of it, when he took off his shirt before pouncing on me.

I shivered at the memory.

I studied it and to my surprise realized it was an anatomical design of a butterfly.

I’d already known his tattoos were lame, but this one definitely took the cake.

I’ve never seen a dude with a butterfly tattoo before. Not until now. Why the hell would a guy get one?

Breaking gender conventions is always good though.

I always supported it.

It truly wasn’t a bad design though. Finely detailed, actually.I studied the shadings and the intricate lines as it lightly flapped its wings with the inhales and exhales of his breaths.

“Enjoying the view?”

The blood in my veins froze and I looked up. His eyes were open. And they were focused on me to my horror. Observing me drinking him in. The corner of his lip tugged up in a smirk.

Ignoring the pain of my swollen fingers, I pushed my free arm against his chest, moving to get away from him. He tightened his grip and pinned me to him. Easily caging me in his arms.  

“Don’t ruin the moment,” he whispered, nuzzling his face in my hair. 

At this point I didn’t give a shit if he could smell my putrid breath.

He was the definition of a space invader.

A minute passed.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Mmm..” Something rubbed against my hair. “You can hold it.”

“I’m serious. I really have to go.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

My cheeks began to burn. “I can’t feel my arm.” I tried moving it out from under him.

A light chuckle rumbled against me. “I guess you shouldn’t have wrapped it around me then.”

Oh you fucker-

I wanted to dig my nails and slash into the swallow. But my fucking fingers. Instead, I kept trying to straighten my arm and wiggle my body against him trying to untangle out leg.

His teeth sunk into his lip and he closed his eyes. “Mm… Keep that up baby.” His hand on my waist lowered and tightly gripped my ass before lifting my leg higher on his hip as he grinded himself against my thigh resting between his legs.

Fucking pervert!

“No!” I somehow yanked my arm out from under him and shoved him back with all my might digging the fingers of my right hand in that fucking swallow, kicking my legs out of his and rolling away.

There was a crash and a wail of pain.

Laughter filled the room. “Well good morning to you too, beautiful.”

I stood up from the floor, he was curled up on his side shaking with laughter. Hair extremely disheveled, his fist in front of his face, eyes squeezed shut with wrinkles in their corners and white teeth laughing.

It was reminiscent of a little boy being caught after his prank.

Not knowing what else to do, I gripped a pillow and slammed it on him as screeched:

“Oh FUCK!” Hit! “YOU!” Hit!

He kept laughing harder, nearly cackling as he caught it on the last hit. His body shaking uncontrollably.

Rage burned my eyes and the blood scorching beneath my skin making my face red. How the fact can he be like this?! So nonchalant and carefree after what he did to me?!

Ignoring him, I stomped to the bathroom in the corner slamming the door. I could still hear his laughter in the other room.

I took down my pants, sat on the toilet and had one of the most relieving pisses in my life.

Thank. God.

I reached between my legs and observed my parts. I was significantly less swollen down there, and the ache was beginning to slowly dull.

Good. He hasn’t raped me in my sleep. Not yet at least. 

After flushing the toilet, I went to the sink and washed my hands before I brushed my teeth.

How long have I been out for?

I ran my face through cold water. Washing the grogginess out of my eyes before sipping on some water. God I was thirsty.

I looked up in the mirror. The healing of the marks on my face had progressed nicely. Including the bruises on my neck.

But something was missing.

I could see my nipples poking through the grey fabric.

No.

I gripped the hem of my shirt, yanked it up and shrieked.

To my horror, I was not wearing my sports bra. And I distinctly remembered putting it on before succumbing to unconsciousness.

Holding the shirt to my neck, I inspected the condition of my breasts. They were still tender and sore, of course. And were pocketed with yellow fading marks. I wasn’t sure if any of them were new.

Swallowing, I unlocked the door and turned the knob.

He was lying on the bed, torso still bare and tattoos proudly on display. His hands behind his head with his legs crossed (wearing pants thank god) and an infuriating grin on his face.

I looked at the lamp next to the bed, clenching my good fist. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of days now. I kept checking to make sure you were breathing. You were right to only take half of the oxy, otherwise you would probably be dead.”

Shit.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose. I looked up and straightened my shoulders. “Why is my bra off?”

“I removed it.” 

My eyes lit up and my nostrils flared. “You what?!”

“You were wheezing a little and coughing in your sleep. I figured it was suffocating you.” His gaze lowered. “Besides I can see how it would be... confining for you.”

Oh. No. He. Did. Not.

“You saw my tits while I was unconscious!?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen them before-”

“That’s no excuse to be a pervert!”

“It was to make you more comfortable. I was thinking of your wellbeing. You began breathing fine right after. It was constraining your chest.”

I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my pursed lips. This was very true. Having a DD cup doesn’t exactly go well with sleeping with bras on. Especially sports bras. I’d already read about how bad it is for you to do that on the internet. So in a sense, he did do me a favor.

“I swear to god,” I snarled, curling my upper lip. “If you molested me in anyway-”

“Believe me, darling, you would have woken up.”

I clenched my jaw along with my good fist.

“Don’t worry, it’s right there.” His dimple popped as he pointed to the chair. Sure enough the fabric was neatly folded on it.

My face grew red. I stomped over, snatched it and disappeared in the bathroom slamming the door harder than before.

I reappeared when I was all adjusted.

“I’m hungry.”

[seengularity]

Still Breathing in the End Part 3

Pairing: none for right now

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

Summary: A man in his late thirties, who can be quite reckless. A woman in her early twenties, who can be quite mysterious. A story of someone thought dead is discovered alive.

A/N: Feedback is strongly encouraged, so please leave a comment if you reblog. It doesn’t have to be a super long comment, just enough so I can better my writing.

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT, FIND PART TWO HERE

You hadn't paid much mind to it until now, but as you looked over Dean's car and seen it caked with dirt and handprints covering the driver and passenger windows, you couldn't help but laugh.

"You think your sand box will beat me?" You pointed to his car, snorting from trying to hold in your laugh. "Careful, there might be mud inside your engine and you'll crash."

Dean glared at you as you laughed and then he looked at Sam. "She just made fun of Baby, didn't she?"

"Oh you better hope you win," Sam said, handing Dean your spark plug. Dean made his way to your engine and placed the spark plugs back, taking no more than five minutes.

Dean rose from behind the hood and looked at you with crazy eyes, his hands formed into fists.

You got back into your car and started the engine, hearing the beautiful purr, uninterrupted.

"Follow me?" You said, revving your car. Dean glared at you, shooting daggers at your face as you continued to make your engine purr for him.

You were more than familiar with the place. You knew every road and every rock that laid on the road. The perfect place to open up your car and show Dean just how much you could beat him.

"Ride with her," Dean told Sam, pointing to your car. "Make sure she doesn't try to drive away and chicken out."

Sam nodded, making his way to the passenger seat. You shook your head as Dean walked away mumbling to himself. You couldn't hear him clearly, but it did sound like he was furious that you made fun of his dirt bag of a car.

Sam cleared his throat, "It was a pretty bad idea to make fun of his car. He cares for his car a little too much."

Dean roared his car to life and let his loud engine fill the air. He was trying to show off, allowing his engine to grow louder and louder. You couldn't see him but you somehow knew that he was smiling with his loud engine, like if his engine was going to intimidate you.

You shifted your car into gear, taking off, leaving Dean to trail behind in a cloud of smoke.

"He'll get over it eventually," you said, looking over at Sam for a moment. "Plus it makes this race all the more interesting for when I win."

You stopped at a two lane road. This was a road you took often and you knew the quick and hard turns it had only straight ahead.

Dean drove up to your car and leveled with you, making sure that you weren't any inch farther than he was. He rolled down his window and glared at you, making you think that his glare never left his face since the parking lot. You rolled your eyes at his immaturity. How can anyone be so upset about a stupid little comment?

Sam got out of your car and slammed the door behind him, quite hard that it rattled your other windows. He bent down to be eye level with the car windows.

"You see the light pole down there?" Both you and Dean looked down the road. You could barely see the light pole with all of the turns in the road, but you could make out that it was a few miles away. "First one there and back wins."

Both of you guys nodded in understanding. "May the best car win," Dean shouted over his obnoxious engine.

You roared your engine, louder than before, and then spoke. "I plan to."

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam stepped back, making sure he was out of the way when the two of you took off. Sam shouted, and you stepped on your gas harder than you ever had.

Wheels screeched, smoke rose from them, both cars leaving large dust clouds behind. You lurched your car forward at a speed you didn't know was possible, at a speed you never had the reason to go until now. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles growing white.

This was exciting. It was the most excitement you'd had in a long while, ever since you and Ladybug had gone skydiving. When you had the car given to you by a will that your parents left, you promised yourself to not use it for racing unless for a good reason. This was a good reason, right?

Dean was ahead of you, which made you more excited as you inched your way closer to his car. The bumper of both cars increasing and decreasing by inches as the both of you drove at what seemed like the same speed.

Several turns and curves later, the light pole was quickly approaching, and you knew you needed to slow down so you can do a full 360° without tipping over.

Your nervousness was growing into a panic and you slowed your car enough to brake and gas it and turn the car around in a cloud of smoke. Tires screeching once again, you turned, suddenly facing Dean in his car.

He moved to the side, turning his own metal dirt trap around, and you floored your car before he could. Pressing the pedal down hard, feeling like you might break the gas, you wished your car would go noticeably faster.

You heard the roaring of Dean's car right behind yours. You could barely see Sam, although he was not completely out of sight. You didn't want to lose, although losing wouldn't be that bad. It's only hanging out with them.

Dean's car slowly appeared on the side of your eye. He was practically toppled over laughing as he drove, as he slowly began to inch his way ahead of you. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, you shifted your car into a different gear, sending your car several inches ahead of him.

You heard Dean yelling profanities as he was falling behind. You could here his gears shifting, but it made no difference in his speed.

POP!

The noise was so loud, you were sure the people at the bar were able to hear it. Your tire exploded below you, causing you to swerve and break harshly. You became scared, your heart racing but trying to keep your focus on keeping your car from tipping and rolling over. Everything was happening so fast.

As your car continued to lose control on the road, you noticed Dean slammed on his breaks and Sam was running his way towards you. Your car seemed like it never slowed down, continuing its deviation from the road. You shut your eyes, waiting to feel pain as you assumed your car would topple over anytime soon.

You tried to take deep breaths, but the dirt and dust around you was making you gasp for air. You were horrified by the events and you were sure you were going to die. You didn't hear Dean yell your name the first time, or the second, but by the third time, you were back to normal. You opened your eyes and you noticed your hands were still gripping the steering wheel forcefully, and you slowly let go, your hands and knuckles feeling sore.

The cloud of dust that surrounded your car was clearing up, and you were able to see how close Dean was to catching up to your car.

"Y/N! Are you okay?" He asked as he swung open the car door forcibly.

"I'm fine. My tire exploded and I think I wasn't breathing for a few minutes, but I'm okay," you said, climbing out of your car with shaking legs. You circled around your red car, trying to find the messed up tire.

It was two tires instead of one. You now knew why the pop was so loud. The two back tires completely ridded themselves and you were driving on the rim.

Sam finally caught up to your car, his hair all over his face and completely out of breath. "Is she okay?" He asked Dean.

Dean nodded in reply and Sam looked relieved. "Thank goodness. Do you have a jack?"

"Yeah," you said, clearly annoyed with the present situation. You made your way back to the front seat, lifting the lever to pop the trunk.

"I'll take the tires off. We can leave it jacked up here and run into town to get you new ones. Okay?" Dean said, finally catching his breath.

"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked. He reached his arm out to clearly comfort you, but you ignored him and continued to your trunk.

"It was just a tire, I didn't get hurt or anything," you shook off his gesture and got the jack out of your car.

You bent down, knee digging into the dirt as you started to place the jack on the ground, lining it up with the side of your car. You began pushing the jack, putting all your muscle into it.

"Y/N, please let me," Dean said, bending down on one knee next to you. He was getting ready to place his hand on yours but he saw the look on your face and retracted his hands.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. This whole thing was annoying to you. Dean. Sam. Your popped tires. You losing the race.

"Oh so this happens often? Maybe you should get it looked at, or stop driving so recklessly," Dean hadn't meant for his words to sound so harsh, but they did. His words filled your ears and the air around you.

You scoffed at his words and turned back to the jack. "I'm not some helpless girl that can't change a tire. So be useful and take your car off the road before someone crashes into it and we're all stranded here."

Dean rose to his feet, taking a look at Sam and wondering why the hell you were so upset since the first time you met him. He didn't reply back to you, but he did, however, walk back to his car and move it out of the way.

[blakelysco-pilot]

Coming Home

Pairing: Dean Winchester/ Reader Rating: Mature Warnings: Angst Author: GinaBaker1666 Summary: The Darkness is released, and Dean returns to the home of the only person who has been down this road with him before.

The night air was warm; a spring warm that wasn't laden with humidity or thick sticky air, the breeze that passed through the open window of the car keeping him awake. The Main Street, anything but dark and desolate, was aglow with neon billboards, lights and storefront signs advertising in the wee hours of the morning. People were still on the sidewalks, stumbling from bars or clubs, staggering into cabs or their apartment buildings.

The radio played a soft sound, maybe it was White Snake, but he couldn't be sure at this point. He had changed the cassette tape a few times since his journey started in Sioux Falls and his mind seemed to be numb to whatever spilled through the speakers.

As he turned down a street that led towards the beach, he couldn't help but take note of how almost all of the houses lights were still on; if he didn't already know that life here was different from everywhere, else he did now.

As the car slowed to a stop, pulling up to the curb of one of the beachfront homes, the soft purr of the engine mixed with the low music was all he could hear; and as he pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out into the warm west coat air, he couldn't really help the small involuntary smile that formed on his face.

He took quick, long strides to the door, knocking as soon as he was close enough to the double wooden panels. Footsteps could be heard coming closer to the door, and as it swung back to reveal a brunette woman with an oversize t-shirt on and a pair of fuzzy cheetah slippers he couldn't help but shake his head. That was his t-shirt.

"Dean? What are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you..."

She looked up at him, his green eyes had dark circles underneath, and his clothes were caked in dirt and mud. He had a bruise on his cheek that was beginning to turn purple, and his legs looked like they would give out on him at any second. As she stepped forward, she came close enough to wrap her arms around his neck, holding his body close to hers; she was there. She had no idea what was going on but she was there.

Dean pulled her closer against his body, his arms wrapping around her as he let his face come to rest against her disheveled brown locks. He inhaled deeply, and instantly found comfort in her scent, his fingers curling the ends of her hair. "Come inside." She said quietly, her hand finding his and tugging him over the threshold and into the foyer of the house he had spent countless hours in. Dean obliged, allowing her to guide him into the house, releasing her grip on him to shut the door and lock the house back up.

Dean watched her as she turned the light in the foyer off before moving in the direction of the stairs.

"Come on..." She said gently, beginning her journey back to the bedroom.

Dean followed her up to the bedroom-their bedroom- and watched her the entire journey. When they entered the room, he let his eyes roam the large space. The tv was on; some late night talk show. There were papers strewn across her dresser, a stack of folders on the vanity, and a few stray jackets hung from the hook behind the door. She shut the door behind them, turning to face him again. "Are you coming to bed?"

Dean stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms and picking her up off the floor. She couldn't help it as she chuckled, allowing him to carry her over to the bed before placing her down on the soft mattress.

Dean stripped down to his boxers, tossing his mud caked clothes on the floor beside him. He cast them a wary glance before turning back to his her.

"Don't worry about it," she shook her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. "I'll take care of those tomorrow."

Dean nodded, still having said nothing since showing up on her doorstep. She knew that if she pushed him he would just close himself off more, so she just let him be for the moment. When Dean reached the side of the bed, she shuffled over to her side, making room for him to slide in between the cool sheets next to her. Once comfortable, he reached for her, pulling her into his side, and letting out a sigh when she let her head fall to his chest and her arm curl around his stomach. The couple lay silent for a while, no words were spoken; a fly on the wall wound think they had fallen asleep. But as Dean curled the ends of her hair, her nails blazed a trail up and down his arm, leaving light chills in their wake.

She heard him sigh again; as she looked up at him, he was looking down at her. "What happened Dean?" She finally asked, her fingers never ceasing their movement along his skin.

"I don't wanna talk about it..."

She nodded against his chest, understanding the way he was. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, and she smiled at his small action, and he knew it. He could feel her smile grow against his bare chest, and it made him smile too.

"I love you..." He whispered.

She looked up at him, a smile on her face but worry in her eyes.

"I love you too," she replied. "But you're worrying me..."

"I don't want you to worry."

"You know I can't do that," she sighed. "Now, tell me what's going on."

Dean could see the pleading in her eyes, and it broke his heart that he was about to tell her that the world could be ending, again. And that him and Sam were responsible. Again.

[anavoliselenu]

This man chapter 2

‘Are they all this big?’ I ask, flexing my fingers until he releases my hand. Does he behave like this with all females? It’s really off putting.

‘Yes.’

I walk into the centre of the room, looking around. It’s a good size. I notice another door. ‘En-suite?’ I ask as I wander over and enter.

‘Yes.’

The rooms are huge, especially by hotel standards. A lot could be done with them. I would be excited, if I wasn’t so concerned with what’s expected of me. This is no Lusso. I exit the bathroom, finding Ward leaning against the wall, his hands in his trouser pockets, his eyes all hooded and dark as he watches me. My God, the man is sex on legs. I’m almost disappointed that traditional doesn’t feature in my design history. It’s of no interest to me at all.

‘I’m not sure I’m the right person for this job.’ I sound regretful. That’s okay, because I am. I’m regretful that I can’t pull myself together. He looks at me, those sludgy eyes stabbing at my defenses, making me shift on my heels.

‘I think you have what I want.’ he says quietly.

WHOA! ‘I’ve always dealt in modern luxury,’ I look around the room again, slowly dropping my eyes back to him. ‘I’m sure you would be happier working with Patrick or Tom. They deal with our period projects.’

He considers me for a second, does that head shake thing and pushes himself away from the wall by his shoulder blades. ‘But I want you.’

‘Why?’

‘You look like you’ll be very good.’

An involuntary rush of breath escapes my lips at his words. I’m not sure what to make of that statement. Does he mean for my design skills or something else? The way he’s looking at me, tells me it’s the latter. He’s a bit bloody confident.

‘What’s your brief?’ I ask, because all other words fail me. My colour is rising again.

A smile tickles the corners of his mouth. ‘Sensual, intimate, luxurious, stimulating, invigorating…’ He pauses to gage my reaction.

I frown. It’s not the usual brief. Relaxing, functional or practical were not mentioned at all. ‘Okay, anything in particular I should allow for?’ I ask. Why am I bothering with these questions?

‘A big bed and lots of wall hangings.’ he states on a husk.

‘What sort of wall hangings?’

‘Big, wooden ones. Oh, and the lighting needs to suit.’

‘Suit what?’ I can’t help the confusion in my tone.

He smiles, and I dissolve on the spot in a hot pool of hormones. ‘Well, the brief, of course.’

Oh God, he must think I’m something else. ‘Yes, of course,’ I look up, seeing chunky beams spanning the ceiling. The building is new, but they are no faux beams. ‘Do all of the rooms have them?’ I return my eyes to his.

‘Yes, they’re essential.’ His voice is low and seductive. I’m not sure how much more I can take.

I grab my client briefing pad to start making notes. ‘Are there any particular colours I should work to or against?’

‘No, knock yourself out.’

I flick my head up to look at him. ‘Excuse me?’

He smiles. ‘Go for it.’

Oh, well, I won’t be knocking myself out on anything because he won’t be seeing me here again. But I should get as much information as possible so I can pass it to Patrick or Tom, with at least a bit of willingness.

‘You mentioned a big bed. Any particular type?’ I ask, trying to remain professional.

‘No, just very big,’

I falter mid-note, slowly looking up to find him watching me. It’s making me stupidly nervous. ‘What about soft furnishings?’

‘Yes, lots.’ He starts walking towards me. ‘I like your dress.’ he whispers.

Holy shit, I’m out of here! ‘Thanks,’ I squeak, making for the door. ‘I have everything I need.’ I don’t, but I can’t stay here any longer. This man is like a sensory drain on me. ‘I’ll get some designs together.’ I exit into the corridor, heading straight for the gallery landing.

Bloody hell, when I woke up this morning, this was the last thing I expected. Posh country mansion – with a painfully handsome owner to round the package off – is not part of my regular daily routine.

I find my way to the top of the stairs, bolting down at a stupid rate, considering the tan stilettos I have on. I hit the parquet floor, wondering how the hell I got here. I’m a mess.

‘I look forward to hearing from you, Selena.’ His husky voice rolls over my flesh as he joins me at the bottom of the stairs, putting his hand out. I take it in mine for fear that if I don’t, he may well clench me and place his lips on me again.

‘You have a lovely hotel.’ I say genuinely. I’m beginning to wish that my handbag contents consisted of spare knickers, a blind fold, ear plugs and some armor. I might have been more prepared.

His eyebrows shoot up as he keeps hold of my hand and slowly shakes it. The buzz travelling through our joined hands makes me tense all over. ‘I have a lovely hotel.’ he repeats thoughtfully. The buzz transforms to a full on jolt of electricity, and I retract my hand under reflex. He looks at me questioningly. ‘It really was nice to meet you, Selena.’ He emphasises the really.

‘You too,’ I practically whisper.

I watch as his eyes dart briefly and he starts chewing his bottom lip. His shifting body eventually moves over to the centre table of the entrance hall. He pulls out a single calla lily from the huge spray that’s dominating the piece of furniture. He studies it for a few moments before he holds it out to me. ‘Understated elegance.’ he says softly.

I don’t know why, maybe because my brain is mush, but I take it. ‘Thank you.’

He puts his abandoned hand in his pocket, watching me closely. ‘You’re more than welcome.’ His gaze travels from my eyes to my lips. I take a few steps back.

‘There you are!’ A woman walks out of the bar and towards Ward. She’s attractive – all blonde, mid-length, layered hair and red, pouty lips. She kisses his cheek. ‘Are you ready?’

Okay, I’m assuming this must be the wife. But there was no ring, so maybe it’s the girlfriend? Either or, I’m completely stunned when he doesn’t take his eyes off of me, making no attempt to answer her question. She turns to see what’s stealing his attention and eyes me suspiciously. I don’t like her instantly, and it has nothing to do with the man she’s draped all over.

‘And you are?’ she purrs.

I shift uncomfortably, feeling like I’ve been captured doing something naughty. Well, I have. I’ve been having extreme unwelcome reactions to her boyfriend. An unreasonable pang of jealousy stabs at me. How ridiculous!

I smile sweetly. ‘Just leaving. Goodbye.’ I turn, practically running to the door and scuttling down the steps. I jump into my car, letting out an almighty breath, and when my lungs have thanked me for the welcome air, I flop back in my seat and commence breathing regulating exercises.

I’m going to have to pass this to Tom. But then I laugh at my stupid idea. Tom’s gay. He’ll be just as affected by Ward as I am. Even knowing he’s taken, I still couldn’t work with him. I shake my head in disbelief and start my car.

As I drive down the gravel driveway, I look in my rear view mirror at the imposing Manor getting smaller and smaller behind me. And there, stood at the top of the steps watching me leave, is Justin Ward.

***

‘There you are. I was just going to call you,’ Kate exclaims, without looking up from placing a figurine on the wedding cake she’s decorating. Her tongue’s hanging out, resting on her bottom lip. It makes me smile. ‘Do you fancy going out?’ She still doesn’t look up.

This is good. I’m sure my face will give away any attempt to feign coolness. I’m still slightly flustered after my lunchtime meeting with a certain Lord of the Manor. I don’t have the energy to get ready and go out.

‘Shall we save ourselves for tomorrow?’ I try. I know this will mean a bottle of wine on the sofa, but at least I can put my PJ’s on and chill out. After the day I’ve had, winding down my racing mind is paramount. I’ve got a headache and lacked the ability to concentrate all day.

‘Absolutely. Let me finish this cake, then I’m all yours.’ She swivels the fruit cake on the stand, dabbing edible glue onto the icing. ‘How was your day in the countryside?’

Ha! What do I say? I expected a pompous country bumpkin, but I got a devastatingly handsome, suited God. He requested me by name, his touch turned me to molten lava, I can’t look in his eyes for fear of passing out and he liked my dress. Instead, I say, ‘Interesting,’

She looks up. ‘Do tell.’ she prompts, her eyes sparkling as she bends back down, her tongue popping out again.

‘It wasn’t what I expected.’ I flick a piece of imaginary lint off of my navy dress in an attempt to appear casual.

‘Leave out what you expected and tell me what you got.’ She’s stopped trying to fix husband and wife to the top of the cake. Instead, her eyes are narrowed on me. She has icing on the end of her nose, but I ignore it.

‘The owner,’ I shrug, fiddling with my tan belt.

‘The owner?’ she asks, her lips twitching.

‘Yes. Justin Ward, the owner.’ I flick more imaginary lint from my dress.

‘Justin Ward, the owner.’ she mimics me, pointing to one of the flowery tub chairs in her workshop. ‘Sit, now! Why are you trying to sound cool? You’re failing miserably, by the way. Your cheeks are the colour of that icing.’ She points to a fire engine cake on the metal shelf stand. ‘Why was the owner, Justin Ward, not what you expected?’

Because he was steaming hot! I flop into the chair with my bag on my lap, while Kate stands tapping her palm with the handle of her spatula. She finally walks over, sitting in the chair opposite me.

‘Tell me.’ she presses, knowing there’s something to tell.

I shrug. ‘The man’s attractive and he knows it.’ I see her eyes light up as the spatulas taps become faster on her hand. She wants more drama. She loves it. When Matt and I split up, she was the first on the scene to soak up the spectacle as a supporting friend. She needn’t have bothered. It was mutual, very amicable and really rather boring. No plates were flying and no neighbours called the police.

‘How old?’ she asks keenly.

Now, that one’s got me. I’m still mortified that I blurted such an inappropriate question during a business meeting. My embarrassment wasn’t even worthwhile as he was obviously playing with me.

I shrug. ‘He said twenty one, but he’s at least ten years past that.’

‘You asked him?’ Kate’s jaw hits her lap.

‘Yes, in a moment of pure brain to mouth filter malfunction, the question did slip. I’m not proud.’ I mutter. ‘I made such a fool of myself, Kate. A man’s never done that to me before. But this one, well, you would have been ashamed of me.’

A sharp shot of laughter flies from her mouth. ‘Selena, I need to teach you some social skills!’ She falls back in her chair, starting to lick the icing from her spatula.

‘Please do,’ I grumble, putting my hand out to her. She passes me the spatula, and I start licking at the edges. I’ve lived with Kate for a month and existed on wine, icing sugar and cake mixture. A loss of appetite after a break up, I don’t have. ‘He was very self-assured.’ I say between licks.

‘As in?’

‘Oh, this man knew he was sparking a reaction in me. I must have been painful to watch. I was pathetic.’

‘That good?’

I shake my head in dismay. ‘Ridiculously,’

‘He’s probably shit in bed,’ Kate muses. ‘All the hot ones are. What’s your brief?’

‘Ten new bedrooms in the extension. I thought I was going to a country mansion, but it’s a mega plush hotel come spa. The Manor, have you heard of it?’

Kate’s face screws up into a clueless expression. ‘Nope,’ she replies, getting up to turn the oven off. ‘Can I come next time?’

‘No, I’m not going back. I can’t work with that. Besides, he has a girlfriend. And I could never look him in the eye again, not after my performance.’ I push myself up from the chair, throwing the spatula into the empty mixing bowl. ‘I’ve passed it over to Patrick. Wine?’

‘In the fridge,’

We make our way up to the flat and change into our PJ’s. I dump my bag on my bed and it flops open, the calla lily Ward gave me making an appearance. Understated elegance. I pick it up and twirl it in my fingers for a few moments, then dump it in my wastepaper basket. Forgotten...

Once changed into my slob out clothes, I load the DVD player with the latest offering from the local rental shop, jump on the couch with Kate and try to concentrate on the movie.

It’s impossible. My mind’s eye is trampled with a tall, lean, dark blonde, green eyed male of a certain age, with a dribble worthy gait and bag loads of sex appeal. I doze off with the words “But I want you” pin-balling around my head. Not so forgotten…

Chapter 3

After two progress meetings with clients and stopping by at Mr Muller’s new townhouse in Holland Park to drop off some samples, I’m back in the office listening to Patrick moan about Irene. It’s a normal Monday morning affair after he’s endured a whole weekend away from the office with his wife. I really have no idea how the poor man pokes up with her.

Tom breezes in with the widest grin on his face, and I know immediately he must have pulled over the weekend.

‘Darling, I’ve missed you!’ He air kisses me and turns to Patrick, who holds his hands up in a don’t-even-think-about-it gesture. Tom rolls his eyes, completely un-offended, and waltzes to his desk.

‘Morning, Tom.’ I greet brightly.

‘I’ve had the most stressful morning. Mr and Mrs Baines have changed their bloody minds for the thousandth time. I’ve had to cancel all the orders and re-arrange a dozen workmen,’ He waves his arms in the air in frustration. ‘I got a sodding parking ticket for not displaying a permit in a resident’s zone and, to top it off, I snagged my new jumper on them hideous railings outside Starbucks.’ He starts picking the stray wool from the hem of his hot pink, V neck jumper. ‘God damn it, look! It’s a good job I got laid last night or I’d be in the depths of despair.’ He grins at me.

I knew it.

Patrick walks away, shaking his head. His attempts to tone Tom’s gayness down to more tolerable levels have proven ineffective. He’s now given up.

‘Good night?’ I ask.

‘Wonderful, I met the most divine man. He’s taking me to the Natural History Museum at the weekend. He’s a scientist. We’re soul mates, for sure.’

‘What happened to the personal trainer?’ I ask. That was last week’s soul mate.

‘Don’t, it was a disaster. He turned up at my apartment on Friday night with the Dirty Dancing DVD and an Indian takeout for two. Can you believe that?’

‘I’m shocked.’ I tease.

‘I bloody was. Needless to say, I won’t be seeing him again. What’s happening with you, darling? How’s that gorgeous ex-boyfriend of yours?’ He winks. Tom doesn’t hide his attraction to Matt, which makes me laugh but makes Matt extremely uncomfortable.

‘He’s okay. He’s still the ex and still straight.’

‘Damn shame. Let me know when he comes to his senses.’ Tom saunters off, tweaking his perfectly positioned blonde quiff.

‘Sally, I’m emailing you a design consultation fee for Mr Ward. Can you make sure you send it today?’

‘I will, Selena. Seven day payment terms?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ I turn back to my desk and resume colour matching, reaching over to grab my phone when it starts dancing around my desk. Glancing at my screen, I nearly fall off my chair when I see the name Justin flashing up. After a few seconds of staring, my brain finally gets the shock message and my heart commences sprint in my chest. What the hell?

I never stored his number – Patrick never got round to passing it to me and after handing the project over to him on Friday, I no longer needed it. I wouldn’t be going back, and I meant it. And even so, I wouldn’t have saved his number under his first name. I hold my phone in my hand, scanning the office to see if the continuous ringing has drawn any attention from my colleagues. It hasn’t. I let it ring off. What does he want?

I make for Patrick’s office to ask if he’s notified Mr Ward of the change in arrangements, but then it rings again, halting me in my tracks. I take a steady breath and connect the call.

If Patrick hasn’t advised him yet, then I will. And if it doesn’t suit, it’s bad luck. I make a rubbish job of convincing myself that I’ve passed the contract over because Patrick’s more suitable for the project. I know damn well that’s only half the reason.

‘Hello.’ I say, stamping my foot a little for sounding apprehensive in my greeting. I was aiming for sure and confident.

‘Selena?’ His husky voice has the same impact on my weak senses as it did on Friday. But at least over the phone he can’t see me physically trembling.

‘Who’s speaking?’ There. That sounded better – professional, business-like and steady.

He laughs lightly, and it throws me completely off guard. ‘Now, I know you already know the answer to that question because my name came up on your phone,’ I cringe on the spot. ‘Trying to play it cool?’

Oh, the arrogant arse! How does he know that? But then realisation dawns on me. ‘You added yourself to my contacts list?’ I gasp. When did he do that? I mentally sprint through our meeting, settling on my visit to the toilet when I left my portfolio and phone on the table. I can’t believe he went through my phone!

‘I need to be able to get hold of you.’

Oh, no. Patrick, obviously, hasn’t told him. Nevertheless, you don’t go around snooping through strangers phones. He really is very self-assured. And storing it under Justin? That’s a bit familiar.

‘Patrick should have contacted you,’ I coolly inform him. ‘I’m afraid I’m unable to assist you, but Patrick will be more than happy to help.’

‘Patrick has been in contact,’ he replies. I sag in relief but then frown. Why is he calling me then? ‘I’m sure he will be happy to help, but I’m less than happy to accept it.’

My mouth gapes. Who does he think he is? He’s called to tell me he’s not happy? Oh, this man is way past arrogant. I close my gaping mouth.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ I sound less than sorry; I sound irritated.

‘Are you?’

And I’m thrown again. No, I’m not sorry. But I’m not about to tell him that. ‘Yes, I am.’ I lie. I want to add that I could never work with an arrogant, good looking swine like him, but I refrain. That wouldn’t be very professional.

I hear him sigh. ‘I don’t think you are, Selena.’ My name sounds like velvet rolling from his lips, causing a familiar shudder to course through me. How does he know I’m not sorry? ‘I think you’re avoiding me.’ he adds.

I’m going to dislocate my jaw at this rate. He’s right. He sparks some very unwelcome feelings in me, and the fact I know he’s involved with someone else has not helped one iota.

‘Why would I do that?’ I ask cockily. That should shut him up.

‘Well, because you’re attracted to me.’

‘Excuse me?’ I splutter. His self-assuredness knows no bounds. Has he no shame? The fact that he’s bang on the money is way beside the point. You would have to be blind, deaf and numb not to be attracted to this man. He’s the epitome of male perfection and, quite clearly, he knows it.

He sighs. ‘I said…’

‘Yes, I heard you,’ I interrupt him. ‘I just can’t believe you said it.’ I slump in my chair.

I’ve never known anything quite like it. I’m completely stunned. The man has a significant other, and he’s flirting on the end of the phone with me? What a player! I need to turn this conversation back around to business and get off of the phone quickly.

‘I apologise for not being available to assist with your work.’ I blurt and hang up, staring down at my phone.

That was really quite rude and extremely unprofessional, but I’m completely staggered by his forwardness. Passing the contract over to Patrick is looking more and more sensible by the minute. A text arrives.

I notice you didn’t deny it. You should know the feeling’s mutual. Jx

Shitting f**king hell! I slap my hand over my lips to stop my mental explicit language from falling out of my mouth. No, I didn’t deny it. And he’s attracted to me? I’m a bit young for him, or is he too old for me? A kiss? What a cocky arse! I don’t reply – I have no idea what to say to that.

Instead, I throw my phone in my bag and go to meet Kate for lunch.

‘Holy Moses!’ Kate exclaims, staring down at my phone. Her red hair is swinging from side to side in its ponytail as she shakes her head. ‘Did you reply?’ She looks up at me expectantly.

‘Christ, no.’ I laugh. What would she recommend I say to that? It’s got me completely stumped.

‘And he’s got a girlfriend?’

‘Yes.’ I nod, raising my eyebrows.

She places my phone back on the table. ‘That’s a shame.’

Is it? It actually makes things a lot easier. It totally trumps the looks and reactions he spikes in me. Kate’s far more daring than me. She would have replied with something shocking and suggestive, and probably made his jaw drop. That girl would give any bona-fide man-eater a run for their money. Not slow in coming forward, she mostly scared men off on the first date – only the strongest survive. Kate’s long, red hair is as vibrant as her personality. She’s confident, strong minded and determined.

‘Not really,’ I muse, picking up my cheeky lunchtime wine and taking a sip. ‘Anyway, it’s only been four weeks since Matt and I split up. I don’t want any men in my life, not in any capacity.’ I like the fact that I sound resolute. ‘I’m enjoying being single and carefree for the first time ever.’ I add. And it really does feel like the first time ever. I was with Matt for four years and previous to that, I was in a three year relationship with Adam.

‘Have you seen the prick?’ Kate face distorts into one of disgust at the mention of my ex’s name.

She can’t stand Matt and was delighted when I split up with him. Kate catching him at it with a work colleague in a taxi only confirmed what I already knew. I don’t know why I ignored it for so long. When I confronted him calmly, he fell apart with apologies and nearly fell over when I told him I wasn’t bothered. I really wasn’t, much to my own surprise. The relationship had run its course, and Matt was of the same opinion. It’s all been very amicable, much to Kate’s disgust. She wants flying plates and police intervention.

‘No.’ I confirm.

‘We are having fun, aren’t we?’ She grins as the waitress approaches with our lunch.

‘I’m just going to the loo.’ I get up, leaving Kate dowsing her chips in mayonnaise.

After using the toilet, I stand in the mirror re-applying my lip gloss and fluffing my hair. It’s behaving today, so it’s down and tumbling all over my shoulders. I brush down my black capri pants and pick a few hairs off my cream blouse. My phone rings as I make my way back to the bar. I drag it from my bag, rolling my eyes when I see it’s him again. He’s probably wondering where my reply to his inappropriate text message is. I’m not playing games with him.

‘Reject.’ I huff at my phone, stabbing at the red button and stuffing it in my bag as I continue down the corridor. ‘Oh God, I’m Sorry!’ I splutter, slamming straight into a chest.

This chest is a very firm chest, and the intoxicating fresh water scent that’s washing over me is way too familiar. My legs refuse to move, and I know what I’m going to see if I look up. His arm is already wrapped around my waist to steady me, my eyes level with the top of his chest. I can see his heart beating through his shirt.

‘Reject?’ he says softly. ‘I’m wounded.’

I push myself away from his grasp, attempting to regain my composure. He looks stunning, wearing a charcoal suit and crisp white shirt. I laugh at myself and my inability to get my eyes past his upper body for fear of being hypnotised by the potency of this man’s sludgy gaze.

‘Is something funny?’ he asks. I suspect he’s frowning at my random outburst, but because I refuse to look at him, I can’t confirm that.

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ I side step him, but he grabs my elbow, halting my escape.

‘Just tell me one thing before you leave, Selena.’ His voice prickles at my senses, and I find my eyes travelling up the leanness of his body until our stares meet. His face is serious, but still stunning. ‘How loud do you think you’ll scream when I f**k you?’

WHAT? ‘Excuse me?’ I manage to splutter around the lead that is my tongue.

He half smiles at my shock, placing his index finger under my chin and pushing my gaping mouth shut. ‘I’ll leave that one with you.’ He releases my elbow.

I flash him a displeased scowl before I walk back to the table as steadily as my boneless legs will allow. Did I really just hear him right? I slide myself onto the chair, immediately glugging down my wine to try and moisten my parched mouth.

When I look up at Kate, she’s openmouthed, exposing half chewed chips and bread. It’s not attractive. ‘Who the f**k is that?’ she mumbles around her food.

‘Who?’ I look around, simulating unawareness.

‘Him,’ Kate points with her fork. ‘Look!’

‘I saw, and I don’t know.’ I grate. Drop it!

‘He’s coming over. You sure you don’t know him? Fuck, he’s hot!’ She looks at me. I shrug.

Please, go away. Go away, go away! I pick up a stray piece of lettuce from my BLT and start nibbling at the edges. I’m tense all over, and I know he’s getting closer because Kate’s gaze is lifting upwards to accommodate his height. I wish she would shut her bloody gaping mouth!

‘Ladies,’ His low, throaty voice prickles at my skin, doing nothing to relax me.

‘Hi,’ Kate spits, chewing rapidly to rid her mouth of the obstruction to speech.

‘Selena?’ he prompts. I wave my piece of lettuce at him to acknowledge his presence but without having to look at him. He laughs lightly.

Out the corner of my eye, I see his body slowly lowering until he’s squatting at the table next to me, but I still refuse to look at him. He rests one arm on the table, and I hear Kate cough and splutter on the remnants of her food.

‘That’s better,’ he says. I can feel his breath on my cheek.

Reluctantly, I look up through my lashes and find Kate gawking at me – all wide eyed and yes-he’s-still-there-talk-you-idiot! I can think of nothing to say. Once again, this man has rendered me useless.

I hear him sigh. ‘I’m Justin Ward, pleased to meet you.’ I see his hand reach across the table.

Kate takes it eagerly. ‘Justin?’ she splutters. ‘Oh! Justin,’ I can feel her glaring at me accusingly. ‘I’m Kate. Selena mentioned you have a posh hotel.’

I scowl across the table.

‘Oh, she mentioned me?’ he asks softly. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s displaying a smug, satisfied face at this news. ‘I wonder what else she’s mentioned.’

‘Oh, this and that,’ Kate flips casually, but it’s too late to back track on her previous statement. I throw her my filthiest look.

‘This and that.’ he counters softly.

‘Yes, this and that.’ Kate affirms.

Fed up of the pointless little exchange that they both seem to be enjoying, I take the situation into my own hands, turning my eyes onto him. ‘It was nice to see you, goodbye.’

Our eyes latch immediately, and I’m ruined by his sludgy green eyes, all hooded, dark and demanding. I can feel his breath waver and it draws my eyes away from his, but only to his mouth. His lips are moist, slightly parted, and his tongue slowly creeps out of his mouth, running a leisurely path across his bottom lip. I can’t take my eyes off him. Without any encouragement at all, my own tongue responds with a happy little adventure across my bottom lip. It betrays my effort to appear emotionless…unaffected. I’m so affected.

This is crazy. This…whatever this is…it’s just crazy. He’s over confident and arrogant, but probably has the right to be. I desperately do not want to be affected by this man.

‘Nice?’ He leans forward, grasping my thigh, causing hot liquid lava to flood my groin. I shift my legs, squeezing my thighs together to restrict the pulsation that threatens to break out into a full, hard throb. ‘I could think of lots of words, Selena. Nice is not one of them. I’ll leave you to consider my question.’

Oh, good Lord! I gulp as he leans into me at half height, pressing his damp lips against my cheek, holding his kiss forever. I clench my teeth in an effort not to turn into him.

‘Soon.’ he whispers. It’s a promise. He releases my tense thigh and rises. ‘It was nice to meet you, Kate.’

‘Hmmm, you too.’ she responds thoughtfully.

He strides off towards the back of the bar. Good God, he walks with purpose and it’s sexy as hell. I close my eyes to mentally gather my wits, which are currently dispersed all over the bar floor. It’s completely hopeless. I turn back to Kate, finding accusing bright blues gawking at me like I’ve just sprouted fangs.

Her eyebrows hit her hairline. ‘Fuck me, that was intense!’ she spits across the table.

‘Was it?’ I start pushing my sandwich around my plate.

‘You better stop with the blah-fucking-zay shit now, or I’ll shove this fork so far up your arse, you’ll be chewing metal. What question are you considering?’ Her tone is fierce.

‘I don’t know,’ I brush her off. ‘He’s attractive, arrogant and has a girlfriend.’ I try for vague.

Kate lets out a long, over amplified whistle. ‘I’ve never experienced that before. I’ve heard of it but never witnessed it.’

‘What are you on about?’ I snap.

She leans across the table, all serious. ‘Selena, the sexual tension batting between you and that man was so f**king super charged, even I was horny!’ She laughs. ‘He wants you bad. He couldn’t have made it any clearer if he’d have spread you on that pool table.’ She points, and I actually look.

‘You’re imagining things.’ I snort. I know she’s not, but what can I say?

‘I’ve seen the text, and now I’ve seen the man in the flesh. He’s hot…for an older guy.’ She shrugs.

‘I’m not interested.’

‘Ha! You keep telling yourself that.’

I scowl across the table at my best friend. ‘I will.’

‘Let me know how that works out for you.’ she shoots back, rather flippantly.

***

I return to the office and spend the rest of the day achieving absolutely nothing. I twiddle my pen, visit the toilet a dozen times and pretend to listen to Tom harp on about Gay Pride and all things camp. My phone has rung four times – all Justin Ward – and I’ve rejected each and every call. I’m staggered by this man’s persistence and confidence.

How loud?

I’m stunned!

I’m happy and enjoying my new found freedom, and I have no intention of derailing my plans to be single and carefree. I’m not getting caught up with a handsome stranger, no matter how handsome he is. And oh, is he mind meltingly delicious. Anyway, he’s way too old for me. And more importantly, he’s obviously taken. And that only reinforces the fact that he’s an ultimate player. This is not the sort of man I need to be attracted to, damn me, especially after Matt and his infidelities. I need a man, eventually, who’ll be faithful, protective and look after me – preferably a bit nearer my age too. How old is he?

My phone declares a text, making me jump and snapping me from my wandering thoughts. I already know who it is before I look.

Being rejected isn’t very nice. Why won’t you answer my calls? Jx

I laugh to myself, drawing the attention of Victoria, who’s rummaging through the filing cabinet near my desk. Her perfectly plucked eyebrow arches. I don’t suppose he is use to rejection. ‘Kate.’ I offer, by way of an explanation. It seems to work, as she returns to sifting through the cabinet.

It should be obvious why I’m not answering my bloody phone. I don’t want to talk to him. He unnerves me, triggering too many reactions. And, quite frankly, I don’t trust my body around him. It seems to respond to his presence with no prompt from me or my brain, and that could be very dangerous indeed.

My phone rings again and I quickly reject it. Christ, give me a chance to reply! Am I even going to reply? I’m never going to get rid of him. I need to be brutal.

If you need to discuss your requirements, you should be calling Patrick, not me.

There. No sign off and definitely no kiss. I’ve not said in so many words, but he should get the message. I put my phone down, all set on getting something done, but it chimes again. I pick it straight back up, grabbing my coffee with my spare hand as I do.

My requirement is to make you scream. I don’t think Patrick can help me there. I’m gagging just thinking about it. That’s a thought...will I need to gag you? Jx

I spray coffee all over my desk as I cough. The cheeky sod! How brazen and unashamed can a man be? Does he think I’m easy or something? I switch my phone to silent, chucking it down on my desk in disgust. I’m not even dignifying that with a response. Replying will only encourage him. There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance, and Justin Ward triple jumps that. I feel sorry for old pouty lips. Is she aware of her man pursuing young women?

I watch as my screen lights up again. I snatch it up, silencing it before it draws attention. I open my top drawer, drop it in and slam it shut on a huff. He’ll get the message.

I make a meager attempt to carry on with some work, but I’m far too distracted. Strange words – all having no place in work related correspondence – are appearing in my emails as I absentmindedly tap away at my keyboard. The office phone rings.

Glancing up, I see Sally away from her desk, so I answer. ‘Good afternoon, Rococo Union.’

‘Don’t hang up!’ he blurts down the phone. I sit up straight in my chair. Even his urgent voice prickles my skin. Get the message, he will not. He’s really quite thick skinned. ‘Selena, I’m really very sorry.’

‘You are?’ I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. Justin Ward doesn’t look like the kind of man to offer apologies willy-nilly.

‘Yes, really, I am. I’ve made you feel uncomfortable. I’ve overstepped the mark by a long shot.’ He sounds sincere enough. ‘I’ve distressed you. Please accept my apology.’

I wouldn’t say I was distressed by his bold behavior and comments. Shocked would be more apt. Some people might even admire his confidence, I suppose. ‘Oh, okay,’ I say hesitantly. ‘So, you don’t want to make me scream or gag me?’

‘Selena, you sound disappointed.’

‘Not at all,’ I blurt.