#why isn’t a woman in charge of these cases

[watchyourbuck]

I’m watching 4x15 of lone star (“Donors”) and the way this fucking detective is speaking to Grace has me seeing red fr

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Leonidas and Buddha with fem!Giyuu!reader headcanons

Warning(s): RoR manga spoilers up to ch. 78, violence, KNY manga and anime spoilers, strong language from Leonidas and Sanemi, ooc.

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1, based on her own headcanons with fem!giyuu!reader and Leonidas. Images of Leonidas and Buddha were provided by @enryegotrip.

So with that being said guys, sit back, relax, and let’s dive into these headcanons! :)

Being a Demon Slayer did not mean to wait on a crow with orders and directions to find the flesh-eating monsters. There was also intel gathering, working closely with the kakushi so that they were not overwhelmed with the number of injured and deceased Slayers, and being pestered by your peers to take an apprentice because you are the only Hashira who doesn’t have one. That isn’t necessarily true, though. You had every intention of taking Tanjiro Kamado as a tsuguko once he was proven to be trustworthy by other Hashra and Lord Ubuyashiki. 

He, at the very least, had what it takes to become the Water Hashira. He deserved to be the Water Hashira, more so than a failure like yourself. It makes sense to take Tanjiro and his sister in your care, housing them at the Waster Hashira residence with a room and food. So why was Kocho making a fuss about it? She stayed quiet about it before, and you assumed it was because she despised people who defended demons or disapproved of your decision to make Tanjiro your apprentice. But that shouldn’t be your concern, or Rengoku’s. 

Lord Ubuyashiki has allowed these children a chance to prove themselves, and you will not grant the other Hashira an opportunity to hurt them. You’ve lost count how many times a colleague has shown up at your door, and how simply slammed the door in their face. 

You weren’t in the mood to hear their excuses then, and still aren’t. 

Tanjiro was quick to warm up to you, profusely thanking you for all you’ve done even when you really didn’t do anything. If he and Nezuko were home from a mission, they’d welcome you back with light hugs and a warm meal. You made sure to make extra portions when you were alone, in case they didn’t come back until late at night, or tried to, depending on the crow’s swiftness with a message from the Kamado siblings. Against your better judgment, they became precious to you. You would show no mercy to anyone who would harm them, demon or Demon Slayers. 

But that was enough reminiscing. You, Tanjiro, and Nexuko were being sent to investigate a few territories where demons are reported to have been spotted and causing chaos. No one has been killed, though several civilians were injured, two are currently in critical condition at the Butterfly Mansion.

You almost felt sorry for Kocho. Almost.

Leonidas had not been happy lately. Greeks in his domain were being picked off left and right and no one could tell what was going on, except movement from their corner of their eye and that is all the information his men had been able to collect. Damn it all, what else could he do? What would Gorgo do? His heart twisted painfully at the thought of his wife. Because she had not been a warrior, she was not welcomed into Valhalla by side, instead residing in Elysium with other souls. It’d been so long since their separation and he never took another woman to his bed, putting that energy into training his men to be prepared for anything…until now. 

When another night-time report came in of yet another incident, Leonidas and his men immediately left camp to investigate. What he and his soldiers hadn’t expected, though, was to stumble upon three scrawny men gorging themselves on lifeless civilians, their hands and everywhere from the waist down covered in blood. 

Leonidas led the charge, swinging his shield and sword but the maggots barely flinched when they touched them. No….when the criminals turned to them with annoyed frowns, the Spartans saw rows of glistening white fangs and slitted amber irises. 

These weren’t men. They were monsters who were evenly matched with his men, both in agility and physical strength. All seemed lost until a woman, a boy, and a girl jumped into the fray. 

The smaller ones went against two of them while their de facto leader swiftly decapitated the other monster once she had gotten close enough to strike. She was calm, too calm for someone who faced a monster and cleavage spilling out of her…uniform. Or she didn’t give a shit about modesty in a life-or-death situation as she darted towards the others, providing the boy with enough cover to swing his sword across the monster’s neck while the girl held its accomplice by the throat and burned him.

Yes, she fucking set the bastard on fire. 

When the monsters disintegrated into ashes, Leonidas all but demanded who the hell they were and what are those things they just killed. The younger ones were startled by his command, but the woman simply blinked owlishly at him, as if she had been asked this question a dozen times. 

“That was…a demon.”

“A demon?” Leonidas snarled. 

“Yes, that was a demon. It feasts on human flesh and cannot be killed unless it is exposed to sunlight.” She said, sheathing the iridescent blue blade in her hand back into the scabbard hanging from her hip. “We are able to kill them because it is our duty as Demon Slayers.”

….If shit-head gods existed, then he supposed it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the idea that demons did exist. But Leonidas did not survive wars on sheer strength or the number of armies under his commands or ‘blessings’ from the gods alone. He was a strategist. 

And he did not stop pestering the woman, who only introduced herself as the Water Hashira, until he’d squeezed every bit of information she knew about demons and the sword used to kill them. 

But she did not give in to his demands, and would not compromise the organization by telling him about their supplier. There was too much at stake....unless he was willingly to speak to her commander. She cannot guarantee if he will answer him or not, though…it seems he has many people to protect as well. 

Leonidas didn’t like it, but if this woman is willingly to arrange a meeting with a complete stranger like himself, he could not allow this opportunity to slip past him. He agreed to the conditions, and watched her and the other Demon Slayers leave, fussing over each like a group of misfit siblings rather than comrades on the battlefield. 

The Water Hashira came to personally escort him to Lord Ubuyashiki’s estate a week later. Kneeling outside on the grass near the veranda were the other high-ranking Demon Slayers, the Hashiras. When they stood in front of them, she too kneeled, her head down. Glancing over his shoulder, Leonidas could see the pissed off expressions on everyone’s faces. Suppose in their eyes, the Water Hashira had brought in an outsider to their organization and became the mediator of a meeting that should never have happened. 

If Lord Ubuyashiki hadn’t agreed to this, the Water Hashira’s actions might have been considered treason, and she’d be stripped of her rank plus any land she owned. But she was calm, not flinching or back talking to the other soldiers until one of them, a white-haired little prick with scars on his face made a snide comment about ‘being brainwashed by a brat and his demon sister’. 

“...Choose your next words carefully, Sanemi, or there won’t be another Wind Hashira among the ranks.”

“Is that a fucking threat, Tomioka?!” 

“It will be if you or the others make another attempt to hurt Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado in my absence.” She said icily. “They are under my care and no harm will befall on them unless Nezuko succumbs to bloodlust. How can we call ourselves the pillars of this organization if we cannot trust them?”

“And how hasn’t your ass been killed yet with that thick head of yours?!” Sanemi barked. “God, you’re always like this, just doing whatever you want -”

“Oi, shithead.” The Spartan turned towards the Wind Hashira. “This woman is the reason my men are still alive. You’ll soon be in the presence of your commanding officer, so heel.” 

“THE FUCK YOU JUST SAID, GEEZER?!” 

“I said heel, you fucking mongrel.” Lenoidas’ eyes flashed dangerously, his temper about to boil over. “If that’s too hard to understand, shut up. And no talkin’ to a woman like that, got it? Gods, kids these days.”

“You son of -!”

“Sanemi, that is enough.” Tomioka said. “Be silent.”

“[First Name] -”

“Quiet, Kocho. Whatever grievances you have, I will gladly listen to them another time.” As soon as the Water Hashira hissed out those words, Lord Ubuyashiki appeared alongside his children and wife. When the Hashiras tried to voice their complaints in his presence, the scarred man all but silenced them with a finger pressed against his mouth. He then turned to him, apologizing for his children’s behavior and asked him to come inside to talk. 

The hours went by quickly, and Leonidas got the answers he wanted. Tomioka, the Water Hashira, whatever her name really was, had been assigned to escort him back to his domain. 

“Thank you…for defending me.” She murmured, her eyes looking straight head and face flushed a light shade of pink. “No one…has ever done that for me since I became a Hashira. They…do not like me. And I am…not like them.” 

Lenoidas raised an eyebrow. “Anyone in their right mind would defend a hell of a woman like yourself. Honorable, strong, and it’s pretty damned obvious that you love those kids in your unit as if they were your own children. In Sparta, there would be men lined up outside your home asking for a chance to court you with the intention of marriage. Hell, even I would have a hard time fending them all off.” 

When he saw the surprised look on her face, Leonidas gritted his teeth. It was obvious to him that her comrades did not think highly of her, and with her current mindset it had no positive impact on her self-esteem. 

Looks like they were just fellow Hashira, and nothing more. Assholes. He thought before he sighed, patting her affectionately on the head. “Wanna get a drink with me before we start heading back?” He asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. 

[First Name] agreed, and she followed him to a local pub. The Water Hashira hadn’t realized what he did was a pick-up line until he was on his fifth drink, and she was on her third. He didn’t expect her tolerance to be this high for a strong liquor. 

“You know this is a date right?”

Her comical reaction to his words made him roar with laughter; [Eye Color] orbs wide, face bright red, and her mouth formed into the shape of an ‘x’ with her drink still in her hand. He grinned at her from the rim of his glass. 

Shit, she’s adorable! 

Bonus Content:

The Spartans came to enjoy Tanjiro and Nezuko’s company over time, as well as their help in training them. While Tanjiro worked with the men to increase his physical strength and practice his swordsmanship, Nezuko would shrink down to her smallest size and play a nightly game of ‘tag’ with them to help the soldiers’ agility. Piggyback rides were her reward if she won. 

Buddha is someone who would rather take care of the demons who were bold enough to try and lay a hand on the humans who followed him. He is the enlightened one, and someone you really shouldn’t mess with. 

So imagine his surprise when the little bastards were actually able to keep up with his and his attacks, and without breaking a sweat. He had been minding his own business on a dreary summer morning, relaxing under a bodhi tree when one of the worshippers darted towards him, pleading for help and covered in blood that wasn’t his own. Naturally, he stood up and reassured the sobbing mortal that everything would be fine. 

Now, he was using the Six Realms staff and his eyes to parry and attack his opponents, yet these guys still kept getting up from the ground, snarling and glaring at him with bloodthirsty eyes. Huh…how long has it been since he had an opponent, no, opponents like this? Kintoki is probably the only other god he’d be more than happy to trade friendly blows, well, actually, the only one because he hated the other gods.

He was about to activate the Animal Realm: Club of Nirvana and stroke the demon in front of him when all of a sudden, a tiny girl dressed in a pink kimono with a bamboo stalk in her mouth struck the demon down with a single kick, decapitating him swiftly. 

The demon’s body collapsed onto the earth, twitching rapidly before clumps of flesh began to sprout from the neck, an enraged face beginning to morph until she stomped on it, her leg glowing a bright vermillion as the regenerating demon howled, flopping and twisting in a vain attempt to get free. In seconds, all that remained was a heap of dark ashes. The girl then looked up at him. Blinking her large pink eyes as if she didn’t do anything special. 

Buddha was about to ask the kid who she was when an ear-splitting shriek stopped him. The future flashed in front of him in an instant, and he acted quickly, switching from the Animal Realm to Asura Realm: Shield of Ahimsa to defect crescent-shaped sickles aimed at them. Naturally, the shield didn’t get a scratch and he and the little lady were all right.

“Get down!”

The enlightened one did not need to be told twice, ducking his head as a wild-haired boy in a green checkered haori exhale wisps of bright red-orangish flames before he swung his sword, slicing the demon’s neck and effectively removing its head from the main body. As the demon disintegrated into the same ashy remains as the other one, the boy turned around and looked at him worriedly. 

“Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Buddha just blinked. “No?” He said. The enlightened one watched the kid’s shoulders sag in relief before he smiled at him, the little lady running towards the boy and hugged him tightly. Ah….brother and sister maybe?

“Nezuko, did you get the demon that was trying to run away?”

Buddha looked over his shoulder, seeing a young woman decked out in a black uniform with gold buttons and a mismatched haori approached them, calm and expressionless. The little one - Nezuko, Buddha presumed, nodded happily with tiny flowers floating over her head. The boy beamed. 

“She did, and she’s gotten much better at controlling her Blood Demon Art, Tomioka-san!”

The young woman nodded. “Indeed. Tanjiro, when we return home, we’re going to work more on your Breathing techniques and footwork. You’re still moving based on instinct and waiting until your opponent strikes to make a move. I will not always be here to protect you.” She then looked at him, [Eye Color] irises calm as a lake with the slightest hint of curiosity. “Oh. You’re a god?”

Buddha met her gaze, his teeth clamping down on the lollipop in his mouth that he had forgotten was there the whole time until now.  “So what if I am? Got a problem, little lady?”

Tomioka furrowed her brow, head tilting to the side and arms crossed. “Why would I be troubled by someone I just met? As far as I am concerned…you’re not an enemy.” Her voice was cold and detached as she spoke, her stoic expression unchanging even the boy, Tanjiro, glared at him  with puffed up cheeks that reminded the enlightened one of a chipmunk. The little one, Nezuko, actually jumped up and grabbed one of his arms, swinging from it with a closed-eyed smile. 

What could he say? The kids loved him, and his candy. 

He pulled out a cola-flavored lollipop from his robes, handing it to her. Buddha watched Nezuko’s eyes brighten in joy and wonder as she extended an arm toward him, carefully cradling the lollipop in her open palm as if it were a lotus flower. She then hopped down, landing on her feet before running to Tanjiro, making happy, approved noises that were muffled by the bamboo piece in her mouth. Tanjiro chuckled, patting her head as he could see now that this god wasn’t a big bully. 

For a split second, the enlightened one saw the barest hint of a smile on the woman’s face before it was wiped away by horror…because the gray clouds in the sky were going away? 

Tomioka quickly removed her haori, shielding Nezuko from the sunlight piercing through the clouds and Tanjiro removed a large wooden box from his shoulders, urging Nezuko to get inside as soon as the door opened. Buddha watched in fascination as Nezuko shrunk to the size of a toddler and blitzed inside. Tanjiro locked it up before he shared a relieved look with his teacher. 

Buddha felt his lollipop between his lips nearly fall as he saw the flash of Tomioka’s thigh in her uniform, similar to what Tanjiro was wearing, but more form-fitting, showing off the very alluring body that she had been hiding under her haori. He did nothing to correct his gaze as he stared shamelessly at her.

Tanjiro sighed. “Thank you, Tomioka-san. Nezuko and I are both grateful that you’re looking out for us.”

She took her haori back, a small smile stretching across her lips before she stretched a hand and gently rubbed the top of his head just as he had done with his little sister earlier. She then turned her gaze to Buddha, causing the enlightened one to flinch slightly, though not before his own eyes lingered on her chest, her folded arms pushing them up just enough to tease him.

 She did not even seem to realize just how sexy she was when she spoke to him. “May I ask you some questions about the demon?”

He grinned, flashing a toothy grin at her. “Anything for the pretty lady~!”

She nodded, not reacting to the slightest at his subtle flirting. “Thank you for your cooperation with us.”

Buddha’s eyelid twitched before he glanced over at Tanjiro, who just shook his head with an exasperated smile. That was when the enlightened one realized, that the Water Hashira he’d come to know as [First Name] Tomioka, was dense as a brick wall. 

Taglist:

@myrisan-melodies

@praisethesuuun

@rukia-writes

[seiya-starsniper]

Six Degrees of Separation

Rating: Teen || Chapters: 1/4 || Word Count 1.4k

Summary:

The Dead Boy Detectives run into a familiar pub while out on a case, and Crystal has to contend with an unfortunate event from her past.

Hob Gadling wasn't planning on adopting three teenagers and a full grown woman, but stranger things have happened in his long centuries of life.

Read here on Tumblr, or over on AO3

dedicated to @softest-punk for making me emotional about Hob adopting the kids in DBD 💖

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

“In here!” Edwin shouts, gesturing frantically at the entrance to a pub that looks vaguely familiar to Crystal. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much time to wonder before the banshee chasing them lets out a blood curdling scream. Crystal rushes in with Charles right behind her, pushing the door and slamming it shut behind her. Thankfully the pub seems to be completely empty except for one man. 

A man who looked extremely pissed off to see them.

“Oh bloody hell, fuck no, not you, out!” the older man shouts, moving out from behind the bar and looking ready to chase them out by force if necessary. Crystal braces herself, glancing around frantically for some sort of back door that she can bolt to if necessary. She’s pretty sure she can outrun him.

Charles and Edwin however, are a different story.

“Hob, it’s us!” Charles exclaims, throwing up his hands in an attempt to show no harm.

“We’re sorry for bringing a ghost to your door, Mr Gadling,” Edwin adds. “If you’ll just let me borrow one of your books to get rid of this banshee, we’ll be out of your hair.” 

“Not you two, her,” the man, Hob (what the hell kind of name was that?) growls, pointing at Crystal accusingly. Edwin and Charles turn to her in shock, and Crystal is about to protest that she has no idea what this man is on about, but then the memory of how she knows Hob Gadling comes flooding back to her.

The pub they’d run into was The New Inn and Crystal had almost burned it down last year because some girl she hated at school had come here for her 18th birthday. With all of Crystal’s friends, sans Crystal. Ex-friends now, since Crystal had tried to burn the place down with the whole party still inside. Hob had, unsurprisingly, pressed charges, and it took a lot of money from her parents to make everything go away.

“I’m sorry!” Crystal yells, just as the banshee screeches and slams its body against the door behind them. It lights up an iridescent blue, a warding against ghosts. Of course Crystal had to go and fuck up the one supernatural relationship she had because she was an idiot asshole last year. 

“I know this isn’t a great time, but I’m kind of a different person now?” Crystal says, having no idea how to even begin to explain the weird circumstances of the last month. “I swear what my past self did isn't who I am now,” she adds, also raising her hands to show she means no harm. 

“She’s part of the Dead Boy Detectives Agency, mate,” Charles interjects, while Edwin nods furiously in agreement. “Please don’t throw her out!”

The banshee lets out another screech and slams itself against the door, rattling the frame so hard that Crystal’s afraid it might fly off the hinges at any moment. Whatever ward Hob had placed, it wasn’t going to hold out for that much longer.

“What the hell is going on?!” a familiar voice cries out, and then Jenny Green of all people is coming out of what Crystal assumes is the kitchen. She’s also brandishing a butcher knife, because why would any of that change now that she lives across the pond?

“Jenny?!” Charles and Edwin yell.

“Oh fuck,” the older woman curses, glancing back and forth between the three of them and Hob. Crystal really hopes they haven’t just gotten Jenny fired. Finding a job had been tough enough for her when they'd relocated, and she had refused any help financially from Crystal.

“You know them?!” Hob asks, shock clear in his voice.

“It’s a long story,” Jenny grumbles, then screams when the banshee throws itself against the door again. “What the fuck, why did you lead a ghost here? ”

The door rattles and creaks, and the ward around the pub shimmers and vibrates angrily, which seems to finally prompt Hob to action. He straightens his back, rubs a hand over his face, and then takes one, two, three deep breaths before he looks them all over appraisingly. 

“Jenny, get the salt from the back,” Hob orders, gesturing her back to the kitchen. “The iron knives should be on the shelf next to them. Edwin, you know where the tomes are,” he adds pointing upwards, likely towards a room on the second floor of the pub. Jenny and Edwin nod quietly before disappearing to their designated posts, leaving Crystal and Charles alone with Hob.

“Right, so since when have the Dead Boys gotten themselves involved with trust fund brats?” Hob asks, still eyeing Crystal warily as if he expects her to pull out a lighter at any moment. 

“Since this trust fund brat got possessed by a demon and got her memories stolen,” Crystal answers, wincing when she realizes how harsh that sounds. “Sorry. I just recently got them back and it's been a weird time. I really am sorry though. For like, nearly burning this place to the ground cause I was mad.”

“You did what? ” Charles cries out, his mouth agape. “Please tell me that was all David’s doing.”

Crystal scrunches up her face and then shakes her head. “I wish it was, but no. Just plain old shitty Crystal,” she answers truthfully.

Hob looks between the two of them, then sighs, his expression softening. 

“Look, clearly you’ve done some soul searching and I am the last person who should be allowed to hold a grudge against someone who’s done some bad things,” he says, then gestures to Charles. “If the boys vouch for you, then I’m willing to bury the hatchet. All right, Ms Von-Hovercraft?”

“Please just call me Crystal,” Crystal pleads. She really hated being referred to by her surname. It still felt weird and foreign to her, after everything she had gone through. Hob huffs, and this time when he looks at her, there isn’t a shred of contempt in his expression.

“Yeah okay. Crystal,” he says warmly. “You can call me Hob.”

Crystal wants to ask where the hell the name Hob comes from, because she’s pretty sure she remembers his name being Richard , but before she can say anything, Edwin and Jenny come back and Hob turns his full attention to taking care of the banshee that’s trying to get past the wards he has around the entire pub. 

“You’re lucky Tuesday’s a slow night,” Hob says, before he starts flipping through the tome. “Jenny, Crystal, make a salt circle by the tables over there,” he adds, pointing to his left. “You’re going to need to lead her there so we can trap her.”

Crystal and Jenny make as large of a circle as they can, pouring generous amounts of salt into the floor. When they’re done, Hob instructs them to the front of the pub, where the door is still rattling and glowing angrily. Edwin and Charles are standing next to Hob, Charles with his cricket bat out, and Edwin and Hob ready to chant the spell within the tome. 

“When I count to three, open the door and run like hell into the salt circle,” Hob tells them. “One, two, THREE!”

Crystal throws open the door and both she and Jenny cover their ears as they run towards the salt circle. The banshee’s cries are even louder now that she’s inside the pub, but their plan works. She follows them straight into the circle, then screeches again in anger once she realizes she cannot follow them out. Her long hands try to grab for Jenny’s apron, but Charles materializes right at the circle’s edge to bat her hand away. 

Hob and Edwin start chanting some spell in what Crystal assumes is Latin, and the banshee screeches at an even louder volume than before. The salt circle alights a bright gold, and Crystal and Jenny are practically thrown backwards by the force of the magic taking effect.

The banshee lets out one more high pitched scream, and then her dark grey dress suddenly becomes stark white, dark and wet black hair paling slowly to a soft light brown. When the banshee lifts her face, her eyes are no longer sunken and black, but wide and bright green. 

She’s beautiful, now that she’s no longer in pain.

The Night Nurse shows up shortly afterwards, collecting the woman and gently reassuring her that she’s going to a better place. She looks at Hob like she’s offended by his very existence, which the man takes in stride and cheerfully waves her off, telling her to say hello to her boss for him. 

“Right then,” Hob says after the banshee and the Night Nurse have left. “Now that that’s taken care of, care to explain to me what the bloody hell is the connection with you lot?”

[adestayskz]

CASE 143 | HAN JSUNG

forty-one | I’m in charge now, baby. (written + social media)

Han Jisung smirked, his eyes were full of mischiefs.

« -You’ll never have her back, Han. »

And that’s at this exact moment that Jisung snaps and he throw the first punch towards the boyfriend of the girl he still loves.

A lot of screams could be heard, Lee Minho grabbed his best friend by the arm and pushing him back.

« -Sungie, he’s not worth it.

-He stole my girl. »

Suddenly, a sweet and gentle voice could be heard, Han Jisung’s favorite melody.

« -I’m not your girl, Han. Not since you decided to go back to your fucking ex and fucked her while pretending that you were in love with me. »

His body is frozen, his heart is beating so fast in his chest.

« -I-I’m so sorry, baby.. 

-She’s not your baby anymore, she’s my fucking girlfriend. »

It was the turn of Jaehyun to snaps and try to punch Han Jisung in the face but Bahng Christopher grabs his arm.

« -Don’t.

-Channie? What are you doing ?

-He may be not my friend anymore but at some point he was, so please, don’t.

-You are taking his defense now?

-I’m not. It’s stupid. Fighting for Y/nie. She’s a grown ass woman that can decide for herself, you don’t deserve to treat her like that. I know that you love her Jaehyun, but you know damn well what you got yourself into when you started dating her.

She told you no at first, but you insisted knowing what her feelings were and she said yes. Let her decide. »

Jaehyun looked intensely at L/n Y/n, the woman was biting her lips, tears in her eyes and that’s all it took for him to snaps again and go for Jisung once more, punching him.

Han Jisung punched him back, the both of them were fighting.

« -S-stop guys, p-please.. »

The words of Y/n were only some murmurs but Jisung heard them, heard the crack in her voice and he immediately stopped, letting Jaehyun that didn’t seem to have heard or even care, punching him again and again.

« -J-Jae..please.. »

But he doesn’t listen to her, he was still punching Jisung when L/n Y/n looked at Christopher with pleading eyes, and he took Jaehyun, pushing him off of his ex-friend and looked at Jaehyun, a look of disapproval in his eyes.

« -She asked you to stop. Why didn’t you?

-Because he fucking deserves it !

-What he posted on twitter wasn’t cool but what you just did isn’t better. Looks at your girlfriend. She asked you something almost crying and you didn’t listen to her. But the one who isn’t her boyfriend did, he stopped. »

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, keeping his head low.

L/n Y/n looked at Jaehyun, shaking her head.

« -I-I’m sorry, Jae..forgive me.. »

And that’s how L/n Y/n and Han Jisung found themselves in the bedroom of the latter, just sitting on the bed and looking at each other awkwardly.

« -So.. »

Han Jisung tried to spoke but the look that Y/n gave him was stopping him instantly.

« -No. You are gonna let me talk, okay, Han? »

He nods, biting his lips.

« -What you did was such a dick move, telling me you love me and then going to your ex and letting her giving you hickeys? What the fucking hell man? I thought what we had was fucking special ! You wrote me a song ! You told me I was your volcano..I thought you really loved me ! I fucking loved you, I would have did anything for you, for fuck sake Han, you don’t have a say in who I date because you dated her ! You saw her while you were with me..Why ? Why did you do that..? »

The young woman started crying, putting her hands in front of her face, sobbing violently and all Jisung could do was taking her in his arms, giving her the best hug ever and patting her back, whispering some « I’m sorry » into her ear.

And when she was done crying, she looked at him and without thinking, crashing her lips into his, kissing him harshly. She puts her hands all over him, touching him everywhere she can and Jisung groans into the kiss, pressing her into the mattress and looked her in the eyes, asking for permission and she nodded.

With her consent, he started kissing her neck, caressing her curves and she leaned her head, giving him more access. Jisung bit and licked her neck before going lower, removing her shirt. Once he had discarded it, he kissed down her breasts, her stomach, her thighs and when he was finally faced with her pussy, he made eye contact with her, lifting her skirt before kissing her clothed pussy. She moaned softly and grabbed onto his hair, pulling it.

« -D-don’t tease, Sungie..»  She begged, feeling needy.

And he obliged, slowly getting rid of her panties before licking a long stripe up her folds, groaning in pleasure at the taste.

« -Taste so good, baby. Gonna be my favorite meal, I just know it. »

Y/n giggles and suddenly moaned, Jisung licked at her clit like a champion, fingers now inside of her. He quickly found her sweet spot, eating her out like his life depended on it.

She started to shake, her hips bucking up and Jisung put his hands on her hips, to stop her from squirming around under him as he kept eating her out, trying to make her reach her high.

And finally Y/n snapped, her toes curling, her mouth wide open, as she moaned loudly and her hand tightened on Han’s hair. She closed her eyes as she came, hard, squirting all over his face and he gladly kept on licking in order to drink every last drop she gave him.

He crawled up her body, kissing her passionately once her reached her lips and she grabbed his arms and flipped him off of her before crawling on top of him. 

« -I’m in charge now, baby. »

She smirked down at him.

He groaned at her words, causing L/n Y/n to smirk down at him before she started to kiss his neck, leaving hickeys in the shape of her initials on his veiny neck. She giggled and moves lower, getting rid of his shirt and pants, giving her access to stroke his already hard cock. The sight of him now naked, made her bite her lip before kissing the tip of his head.

« -So big, baby.. Fuck, I need to feel you inside me. »

She slowly aligns herself on top of him before slowly and sensually sinking herself down around his throbbing cock, moaning his name loudly as she felt him splitting her open.

She started to bounce herself on his dick, riding him, causing him to put his hands on her hips, thrusting hard and fast into her. She moaned loudly from on top of him, screaming his name, already feeling her second high approaching rapidly.

« -Gonna cum again, S-Sungie »

She moaned, throwing her head back in pleasure.

« -Cum for me, my volcano.. »

He groaned in response.

And with his words she came, harder than ever, clenching around him, creaming all over his cock.

« -W-where do you want me to cum, baby–Fuck..feels so good and tight around me..

 -I-inside please..please, need to feel you fill me with your cum.. »

Her words pushed him over the edge, making him shoot his load inside her with a loud moan.

She get off of him, laying next to him, panting.

« -Be my girlfriend again. I know you just broke up with Jaehyun but please, be mine again..

-I-I don’t know Sungie..I’m afraid that you’ll do the same with Sooha again.. »

He bites his lips, caressing her lips and Han Jisung looked at her in the eyes.`

« -I’m sorry, so fucking sorry, my volcano..I guess I was still affected by her, not in love with her but..I dont know how to explain this..But I fucking promise to never go back to her, baby.. »

Y/n bites her lips.

« -Promise..?

-Yes, my baby..

-Okay, I’ll be your girlfriend again, Sungie.. »

He smiled, his heart was beating faster and he kissed her passionately, feeling complete again.

preview | masterlist | next

A special mention to my Unnie @baby-stay92 who helped me a lot with the smut because i’m so bad at this lmfaooo, once again, thank you !!!! go check out her blog !!! she takes request by the way !!!! i love you !!!!!

taglist: @maybeimmia @hans-quokka-coffee @sillygoosegoose @katsukis1wife @15092000volcano @jeonginplsholdmyhand @weirdowithaphone @privhace @rundontwalkshesaid @hannoahs-third-eyelash @cookiesandcreammy @urfaveviet @hinanitiram @moony-9 @hulachan @aalexyuuuhm @pochacco-baby @sillyhal @blhhfsi8 @skzswife @sellomaybe @han-doolsetnet @hibuki-chan @angelus-scripturae @kisses-too-the-moon @wondering-out-loud @whyisaah @skzstan12345 @saaucie @n1nme4r @thatonexcgirl @hyunjins-dimples @heluvschibi @minminmoew @qu4ckqu4ck @enhabun @hannamoon143 @chanchansgirly @baby-stay92

[wordsrequired]

is it weird that I never felt threatened by any other ship? sometimes I try to reflect and try to put myself in other people’s shoes. and I think why would the author even make elain and azriel a thing if elucien was the endgame? like why insert hints and moments that could’ve really been with lucien. he could have saved elain, he could have discovered she was a seer, he could have had a moment with her on solstice, he could exchange charged glances and little touches with her but he didn’t. like why give these moments to azriel? why not use these moments to build up your endgame? why make azriel move on from his 500 year old crush because of elain? if he isn’t supposed to be with elain, why even insert her in his story? why give them those moments? like elain already had graysen as a love interest and azriel had mor. why couldn’t they just gravitate to their endgames after that? don’t people understand that azriel’s story loses meaning if he jumps from one woman to another? or if he just goes after another woman just because he can’t be with elain? like where’s the romance and depth in that? like why should elain and azriel’s paths cross romantically? since people say it’s lust which obviously it’s not, cause you wouldn’t be celibate for a year, thinking about someone every night, losing sleep because of that person, keeping their gift in your bedside table, letting them haunt you, moving on from hundreds of years of wanting someone else ecc. just for lust. but let’s say it is just lust why should that even be included in the story? why does them wanting to f*ck each other have any importance in the story? and him being so affected by elain’s mating bond? even smelling it? needing to stay away in case it becomes unbearable? the man being in pain because of it? like why? why add that? why doubt the cauldron? why doubt and discuss their mating bond? there’s no necessity for all of this, if their journeys will be separate. why make elain have spy tendencies and hints? why make her friends with the spy wraiths azriel trained? they’re so many why’s I could write a book.

and the answer is so simple. but I know why it’s hard to grasp for some people. it’s because they dislike elain, the majority might even hate her. and they are blinded by that hate. it would be more honest to say I don’t want her with azriel cause I don’t like her than to twist the whole story and try to convince people that canon is actually a part of our collective imagination. I’d respect people more if they accepted what’s canon but just expressed that they don’t like it and really wish the author would follow another route. that’s it.

[jqmalikhsgib]

quest

three

when emily received your phone call she knew immediately she had to inform jj. telling her everything. from where you’ve been this entire time to why you’re in jail.

jj was shocked and a bit pissed she kept this from her. she was close to you as well. but she understood why. she would not agree with you keeping your pregnancy away from hotch and constantly tell you that.

but now she had to tell the team. she knew she’d have to inform hotch first before they flew to houston texas and figure out why they’ve arrested you for a crime they know you could never commit.

jj sighs as she walks to hotches office and knocks. “come in.”

jj gives him a look and he knew they had a case.

“ill inform the team.”

“wait! this isn’t just some case hotch. it’s about yn.”

hotch heart starts to beat out of his chest. what could this be about? were you okay? where exactly were you this whole time? had you been alive? fuck! he hoped the last thing you remembered wasn’t him cheating. he couldn’t bare that.

“just—just tell me she’s alive jj?!”

“she’s alive.”

he breaths a sigh of relief.

“but she was arrested for murder charges last night. she’s currently in houston texas.”

“murder?! we know she didn’t do this!”

“yes! we know her well. but she was near the body, blood all over her clothes, and the weapon had her fingerprints on it. she looks good for the crime.”

“what do we know?!”

“we should get the team together and discuss. but first there’s something else you should know.”

“this is insane! yn won’t hurt a fly! how could they possibly believe she’s the killer?!” derek shakes his head.

“guys! we gotta focus. we all care about yn but she needs our help more than anything. penelope what have you found on the victim?”

“oh, yes sir. robert kelp. he’s the ceo of a dna company. he has helped many families find so many lost loved ones. he’s donated to plenty of charities to stop human trafficking and even helped sex workers get back on their feet if needed. oh. he was a very kind man. says he’s—oh, sir. it says that he started the business because long ago he’s fallen in love but was sent to afghanistan. his lover at the time let him know she was pregnant but lost the baby. when he got home he tried to find her. after years of searching he found out she ended her life through her father. she couldn’t take the lost of her baby.”

“could you find any records of the woman, baby girl?”

“um—i found her name. sarah wilson. but—”

“what is it?”

“there’s no death certificate. and—oh, god!”

“what? what is it p?”

“sarah jones. currently married to a darius y/l/n.”

“that’s—”

“holy shit!”

i love leaving you all in suspense!

anyway i got a person on my taglist for stone cold.

please let me know if you want to be added or unadded <3

taglist:

@ivebeenthearchersstuff

[babydin]

Sex (With My Ex) 

Wrong place at the wrong time might've cost Javier his relationship with you, but he's as smooth as he is handsome and it isn't long until you fall back into old habits. He's a drug and you're addicted. - Javier Pena x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - Song inspo: Sex (With My Ex) - FLETCHER - References to cheating, alcohol, fingering, dirty talk, cursing, vaginal doggy style, light choking, biting, references to bruises - 1865 words -Comments/likes appreciated - A/N: There is Spanish in this and I am not a native Spanish speaker, it is something I am learning so please forgive me if my grammar or anything is incorrect! I'm still making my way through Narcos so I'm sorry if I don't have his voice 🥺 Also I figured out how to post this without splitting it or linking it yay me! 

I just had sex with my ex in a New York apartment.

“Do you want to come in?”   It’s been almost a month since you caught Javier with another woman’s tongue down his throat, it didn’t surprise you and you almost felt like you should’ve seen it coming. He had been spending more time on his case than he had with you, more time with his informants than he had at home, of course it was inevitable that she was getting to see him at his best and his worst, get take out with him, kiss him goodnight, suck his dick when he got praise from the boss. He told you that it was just a kiss, and it was just the one time but he came home to you and slipped into bed and turned his back to you most nights and it was that that made it hard for you to believe him.   You don’t know why you said yes, maybe it was those big dumb Bambi eyes he was giving you, or the way he smelled of lager and cigarettes, but you step into Javier’s apartment and give him a cold look as you brush past him and stares down at the ground like he knows he deserves it. You have a box of things he’d left at your apartment, and you drop it carelessly on the couch. It’s mostly clothes, a few tapes, a mug he bought you from a vacation to Cape Town last year. It had a crudely drawn pair of tits on it, you never did understand his reason for buying it for you but every time you drank from it you remembered spending an entire afternoon getting fucked by him under a mango tree. You both got sunburn. Javier comes to you with a glass of something over ice. It looks and smells like tequila, you don’t want it but you take it to be polite. “You look nice.” “What do you want?” You knew you looked nice. You had purposefully worn a skirt that showed off as much as your legs as you could get away with without getting a public indecency charge on you, and a shirt that accentuated the curves of your torso in a way that wasn’t so obviously trying to, but did anyway. Your hair was tied back, exposing your neck because Javi was a biter. “Babygirl, let me explain. Will you let me?” He looks pathetic; it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. He’s full of apology, he’s full of regret, his eyes are wet, and maybe he’s terrified of losing you. You shoot the tequila in one gulp and set the crystal tumbler on the side table then take off your jacket and lean back against the back of the couch and raise your eyebrows, indicating to him to go on.  “I swear to you, it was one kiss. Once. She came onto me–” You scoff. “I know. I know that’s such a bullshit excuse but it’s the truth. Her mouth had been on mine for half a second before you showed up. I would never break your heart like that, mi vida.” He moves closer to you, “Come on.” You could’ve melted into him right there, his soft sultry tones and those puppy dog eyes, the smell of tobacco smoke burning in your nose, the shot of tequila burning in your veins. “No, Javi. You can’t just – You can’t just sweet talk me in Spanish and expect me to just forgive you. You really fucking hurt me, you pig.” Javier pouted,  “Soy un cerdo. Un cerdo podrido. Un cerdo muy apenado y podrido.” He reaches up and touches your cheek with his thumb, “Lo siento mucho.” It turned out he could just sweet talk you in Spanish and you would forgive him. The second that apology left his lips you grabbed the collar of his shirt in both your hands and pulled him into a heated kiss, surprised at how much you had missed the taste of stale cigarettes and beer. He pushed into you and forced you to sit on the edge of the couch, your legs wrapped around him and his jeans were so tight you could feel the outline of his cock against you, he wasn’t hard but he would be soon. That feeling alone was enough to get a pool of arousal forming in your panties. Your hips rut against him, desperate for some friction at your core as pressure builds. You haven’t had anyone inside you since Javier, you aren’t sure if anyone else can compare.   He feels your pleading movements and slips his hand between the two of you, it finds a home up your skirt and into your panties, the warm slick welcome he gets makes him moan into your mouth. You pull away slightly to unbutton his shirt, “¿Se besó como yo?” you ask, with the little Spanish he has taught you, you hope it’s intelligible. He spares you the struggle of having to translate, although hearing you speak in Spanish leaves his knees weak, and answers you in breathless English, thick fingers massaging your sex, “Gatita, nobody kisses like you.” You moan desperately and try to buck against his hand, needing more of him, all of him. You pull his shirt out of his jeans and make quick work of unbuckling those. Your trembling fingers are clumsy on the fastenings, but you can feel the ghost of his length as stiff as a board and pushing awkwardly against the already tight denim. “You’re so wet, kitten. You miss me?” “Fuck me.” You’re not above begging him. He doesn’t even have to ask you to, it comes so easily; the way he gets you so riled up so quickly, skilled fingers stroking your clit with ease as you coat them with your arousal, his softly toned chest heaving as he struggled to keep his breathing at a steady pace, of course you had missed him. You needed him. Nobody in the world had ever fucked you as good as Javier Peña.  “Please, Javi.” you get his jeans open and pull them down just enough to reach inside and pull out his thick cock, hard and twitching in your hand. He doesn’t give you any time to pleasure him though, he rips you off the couch and his hand pulls your panties down in one swift move, so fast you barely have time to register what happened, but as your underwear drops to your ankles you step out of it so you can spread your legs as wide as he needs them. Javi turns you around and pushes you back over the couch, his knee pushes between your thighs to nudge your knees apart and he guides his cock between your soaked labia, coating himself in your arousal, and you moan as you feel yourself around him. You suddenly wonder how it would feel to ride him like that, his stiff cock pressed against his stomach under your weight as you rub your clit on his shaft until cum oozes out of him. Your thoughts are disturbed when Javier presses his tip inside you, your sex is aching for him, already pulsating around him, welcoming him in, trying to pull him deeper as he stretches you with his girth. He doesn’t ease in tonight, he fucks his way in, each thrust has him entering you deeper until you have all of him, his hands on your hips pulling you into him and you know you’re going to bruise from the brute force of his pelvis smacking into yours but you will wear those bruises proudly. His fist twists in your ponytail and he pulls you up off the couch a little, leaning down to meet you. That was another good reason to wear your hair up, you thought. Built arms wrap around you, the one hand finding your clit again to rub rapid circles over it as the other holds your throat. You moan loudly without a care for any of the adjacent apartments. Javier’s teeth find your neck, just behind your ear, they sink in and they suck hard and he claims you as his own. You hear him grunting, feel the heat from his breath and the sweat from his brow, and it drives you insane. “Javi—” you gasp desperately, “Javi, ba–baby I’m—” You don’t need to finish your sentence, and he knew exactly what you were going to say. He fucked you harder, so hard it made your teeth rattle, his fingers launching a relentless attack on your clit, as if he was trying to start a goddamn fire down there. You couldn’t hold onto your orgasm anymore at this rate, and you mistakenly turned your head and looked at him, his face all twisted with concentration, tan skin flushed with a fire burning within him, glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. Each forward thrust of his hips forced a moan from you until you came hard. Both of your hands wrapped around his to stop him from rubbing you any more, and your thighs clamped together as the muscles of your sex ebbed and flowed around his cock, you moaned from deep within your throat and could not believe how sensitive you were. Despite your reaction, Javier did not stop pounding into you, fucking you through your orgasm and when you were coming down he took both your hips in his hands and continued, pulling you into him as he fucked you. You had barely time to recover from your first orgasm and you felt a second brewing already, your knees were weak and you gripped onto the couch for stability.   Javier’s teeth sank into your shoulder and his hand once again found your throat. “You got me so fuckin’ pussydrunk, kitten.” he purred into your ear, his breath heavy as he struggled to catch it between his harsh thrusts. Your eyes roll back into your head and you reach back to grab at his hair desperately, pushing back against him as your second orgasm washes over you so quickly. It’s so intense that your mouth falls open but no sound comes out, the walls of your core clamp down on Javier and claim him and it doesn’t take him long before his calculated thrusts become messy, then few and far between, and then completely still as he spills his orgasm deep inside you. His voice went up an octave as he released his thankful moans into your neck. The feeling of him filling you up made you find your voice, a strangled gasp filling the air as you tugged on his hair and forced him closer into your neck. Javier’s grip loosened on your body, his touch turned suddenly so tender but still he held you close, feeling your body trembling. “Missed you.” he whispered against the shell of your ear. You smile lethargically and try to steady your racing heart that seems to beat only his name Javier. Javier. “You’re amazing Javi.” You tell him. “Stay. Please?” You think for a second and then nod; how could you possibly say no? Nobody in the world is ever going to love you like Javier Peña.

[babygirl-riley]

Baroness

141 has a hunch about Makarov and where he could be hiding. Informant stated that the information would be at a event Little did Simon know it would be a woman from his past.

“Well, they’d be like…Shit is crazy right….I ain’t your baby no more.”

Warnings: mentions of smut, violence, break ups, swearing, blood, flirting

simon x reader guide

simon x reader smut list

PT. II

Ghost wouldn’t have predicted on what happened next. Laswell mentioned there was a lady that went by Baroness, that was close to Makarov. They had been searching for him since she showed the picture of him. However, Laswell had found a lead to this Baroness.

She was high up in Russia every year she would hold a masquerade party and that is the only time anyone would see her. No one knew who she was besides three of her close guards, even Valeria didn’t know herself when Alejandro interrogated her. Which brought more attention to this Baroness, Laswell sent out a spy to see if they could see when her next appearance would be.

Her spy did get close enough to know where she would be at. That’s also when he disappeared just to be found in suit cases with an invitation attached. Baroness knew that they were drawing close, so she invited him. Did she know who they were? Or did she just taking that chance?

Price agreed on the assignment for everyone to go. This is a lead that couldn’t be dropped. They will go and know that she knows who they are. Or surprise her that she was cornered.

“Bravo 0-6 what is your status?” Laswell asked over comms.

Everyone was spread out of the party, people dressed in beautiful dresses and suits. Different masks. Champagne or whiskey in their hands. Most of them speaking Russian. Some were from different countries around the world. “On the East balcony. Bravo 0-7.”

Ghost took a sip of the whiskey in his hand looking around. “By the bar. There is a lot of influence here .”

“I agree I didn’t expect one of the one of the politicians from Europe to be here.” Gaz mentioned.

“Like I said before she has a lot of power. Which is why we need to know if she is working for Makarov.” Laswell briefly explained.

“Let’s hope that she isn’t.” Price added as he then explained to make sure to not get in civilian way. This isn’t a war zone.

People laughed and talked about everything that they have been doing. What fundraisers they were in charge of. It didn’t take long until someone announced you coming out for the party. “Eyes on the lass.” Soap said having Ghost look over.

Bloody fucking hell. Baroness was beautiful, her hair was down curled, her mask was black and sparkly, gloved hands that went half was up your arm, red lipstick, green dress that a slit went up to your mid thigh, and heels. People clapped and barely touched you as you walked by.

What else did he expect? Usually women that are higher up is gorgeous or very brutal and or both. Women in power can be dangerous if they are there for something malicious.

“She is gorgeous cap.” Gaz mumbled.

“Stay focused boys.” Laswell said having amusement.

There was a certain part Ghost kept looking at. It was zoning right to it. It was particular spot that he couldn’t put his finger one he seen it. The small scar on her chin. It started to bug him trying to think why that scar was having him, deep down knowing where he has seen it before. It hit him once her eyes looked at his. The smile cross her face. He knew that from anywhere, especially the feeling he got when you did. “Bloody hell.” Ghost whispered.

Memories formed around his mind. Meeting her the first time until the last night together. All the tears and laughter that was caused during that time. Ghost thought you were dead from how things started to line up.

She excused herself as she walked her way towards him. “Ghost she is heading towards you.” Soap mentioned, no shit Sargent. He thought.

“Well well didn’t think it was reaping time love.” His heart raced from hearing your voice. You. You were here. You are the Baroness. It’s been years since you two have seen each other.

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t have time for games. At the same time he wanted to rip that dress off of you and see those beautiful…

“What a shame, thought you were coming here to throw me around.” You said licking your lips subtly.

Fuuuck you knew that drove him crazy when you played with your lips. He remembered fucking you silly once you bit your lower lip. Fucking your mouth with his cock. “No I am not here for that.” He mumbled looking up towards Soap who watched amusingly. He wanted to throw the glass at Soap, of course he would have a kick out of it. Cause when did his lieutenant ever get flirted with like this. In the open.

You smirked placing your hand against his chest before going down to his abdomen. Sending sparks down his spine. Feeling like his skin was burning. Ghost wanted her fingertips on his skin and not his shirt. “Like I said what a shame. What are you here for then Simon?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Your name? You let me scream that at…”

“Enough.” He said looking down at you.

God how much he missed those beautiful eyes. With the glint in your eyes, the glint that you would get when you were ready to a long night, your eyes just drowned him into you. He missed you, god he didn’t even realize how much he missed you but he had to stay focused. He need to thin about the mission. Not about how his heart bested faster and harder, making him less focus He doesn’t know if you’re friend or foe. If he had to slice your throat or press his lips on your throat. Could he even do it? Kill you if your the enemy. God he can’t stop thinking about those lips.

You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to hold him. The last time you both saw each other, he pinned you against the wall fucking your hole before you spilt up. You moved to Russia due to not being able to look around without seeing him. You didn’t know what he wanted, him appearing out of the blue was odd to you. Especially with him not wanting anything to do with you. No flirting.

You now had to see what he wanted, what he needed. “It is interesting that you come here all handsome and mysterious for not even wanting me. Interesting.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “It’s not the time.”

“Oh baby it’s always time.”

“Fine not in the mood.”

“Not in the mood, I know how to get you in the mood.”

“Damn Ghost you know this woman?” Gaz teased, he will kill him later.

“Keep her talking, I am going to get in her office.” Laswell requested.

“You sure Kate?” Price asked.

“Yeah I…”

“Imagining me naked?” You asked, he didn’t notice that he paused talking. Or didn’t reply.

“No why would I?” He said sipping his whiskey.

“Aw so you didn’t miss me?” You said teasing.

God he did, your laugh, that fucking smile. How he missed taking those stupid baths with you. Holding you. Kissing you. “I do.”

You scoffed. “That’s not what it seems like Si.”

That stung. He didn’t have a choice, he was recruited for the 141 and he knew it was…high maintenance. Instead of informing that for her, he broke it off. After 3 years it just seemed right. Simon did go back to talk to her but she disappeared, never again seen again. Your parents didn’t even know where you went.

“That’s not fair.” He said shaking his head.

“Life isn’t fair Simon. Leaving your girlfriend of 3 years isn’t fair. Not even letting her know isn’t fair. Fairness isn’t in the game of life Si.” You explained rolling your eyes.

Ghost couldn’t say anything besides just looking at you. You waited for him to respond say anything. Are you friend or foe? Did you have to cut his throat? Shoot him a couple of times? Draw blood? Fuck say something Simon. Is all you could say in your mind. Thinking of good and bad things to do to him. Could you even do that? You don’t know if you could trust him with everything that is going on. The shit you put yourself through. You noticed one of your guards signing to you, you frowned before sighing.

You then smirked walking around him. “You didn’t answer my question,” He turned as you grabbed a champagne glass. He watched the bubbles rising up. “What are you doing here?”

Ghost glared down at you. What should he say? He already said he wasn’t here for you. He can’t say sorry for his actions. That would compromise everything. You smirked letting out a chuckle. “Simon, Ghost, Bravo 0-7. What else does your team call you?”

You knew what you called him as he pinned you to your bed. Whispering to each other full of love and affection. Or the laughter he would pull from you adding his name to the sentences. Why was life so unfair?

He froze looking up and around. The guards were close to everyone on the team. Everyone noticed but didn’t do anything. He snapped his head down to you. “I wouldn’t cause a scene, not at this party,” You sighed walking towards him, he watched your hips sway, you heels clicking. “Don’t worry Si,” She walked up to whisper in his ear. “Something’s we can do alone,” You bit his ear, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t with you. “Somethings.”

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Sonny Carsisi: [Not] Guilty

Warning: This one is short and angsty 

Part 2

You opened the door to find a flustered-looking Dominick Carisi. He was still in court clothes and his hair was perfectly styled. Only his face showed his exhaustion and his unease. After your appraisal, you cross your arms over your chest, lips in a firm line. “What do you want?”  

“I wanted to check on you,” You scoff at that rolling your eyes at him, “I know this day has been rough-” 

“Really, now you're worried about me?” You watched the hurt flash in his eyes and you know you should feel bad, but after the day you had you couldn’t feel anything at all. 

“Of course, I have been worried about you.” He reaches out to you, but you dunk back. 

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Your voice raises but just barely. Sonny’s expression grows cloudy with emotions that you resist picking apart. Your eyes instead stare over his shoulder. An older woman comes out from her apartment across the hall. Her eyes sweep over you in search of new gossip. You probably look like you're in a lover's quarrel. You bite the inside of your cheek at the realness of that. Sonny eyes the woman who is taking her sweet time to lock her apartment and head to the elevator. 

“Let’s talk about this inside.” His whispers, his voice taking on a soothing tone. “I can explain-” He gently starts easing you back into your door, but you hold your ground a firm hand on his chest pushing him back. You feel the muscles under his shirt and have no doubt that he has the strength to bulldoze you over. Instead, he stops like he hit a stonewall.   

“No,” He says your name and you shake your head, “You can’t come inside. I’m still cleaning up the mess from CSU. I won’t invite you in and have you ‘accidentally’ find something incriminating in my apartment. I shouldn’t even be talking to you without a lawyer.”  

“Now wait, just hold on a second.” Sonny grasped firmly at your shoulder. A touch that once made you feel so warm now left you cold. “This case has nothing to do with you.” 

“Nothing to do with me?” You shoot back with a humorless laugh, shrugging off his touch. “You got a warrant signed to have my apartment searched! You didn’t even have the decency to give me a heads-up that they were coming!” 

“I couldn’t do that, and you know it!” 

“Why because you think I would hide evidence?” 

“Because I was doing my job. Your cousin is living here. He’s being charged with rape and murder. I didn’t have a choice.” Sonny's voice raised before he seemed to get control of himself and lowered it back down. 

“I told you; he isn’t good for this.” You feel tears burn at the back of your eyes and you look up and blink them back to keep from crying. 

“That’s what everyone always thinks of family. I understand you want to protect him. But you weren’t with him that night. His DNA was at the crime scene.” Sonny tries to cup your cheeks, to get you to look at him. You shake your head pushing him back again. For the first time, you feel like he isn’t listening to you. He is trying to railroad you. He isn’t on your side, or your team. He’s against your family and that makes him against you. 

“No, he didn’t do this.” You repeat and you look at your boyfriend of just shy of a year and see the end in his eyes. “And you're the ADA going against him. I can’t have contact with you.” 

“Baby, this trial could take months-” He cuts off and you know the second he understands. The moment he sees the end in your eyes too.  

When the relationship hits its end, and the door is closed, and the deadbolt is locked in place you have no idea that part of him is already on the other side with you. It would take you four months and the end of the trial that ruined your relationship before you figured it out. Then another week before you could find the strength to tell him. 

I am thinking about turning this into a miniseries if anyone is interested. It will talk about the case but will mostly focus on what happens after the case has ended and how the relationship with Sonny will progress.

[pagannatural]

1.19

Provenance

-the episode where they come so close to talking about Sam’s fat crush on Dean that I almost choked the first time I saw it

part I

-Sam beckons Dean away from his conversation with a woman at the bar. Like he flags him down and Dean is like Ope sorry lady my little brother who I spend every waking moment with needs to talk to me right now, no it can’t wait yeah I just do whatever he wants at all hours.

-Dean offers to try setting Sam up and Sam says he can get his own dates.

Dean says You could but you don’t. A rare moment of Dean plainly acknowledging that Sam could get it.

Sam’s expression is so hesitant. Dean says “nothing” but looks worried. Sam changes the subject back like he doesn’t actually want to talk about it. Usually Sam is vocal and pushes Dean to talk, but on this topic it’s the opposite.

Purely a theory but they’re both acting like this issue has come up before, like Oh it’s this again. And by before I mean way back before Stanford, this issue of Why isn’t Sam interested in anyone. The way Dean kind of mutters to himself passive aggressively and the way Sam answers but just moves on, the way he seems more needy in the first half of this episode.

-Dean’s eyes wander and Sam gets his attention again. His tone is less irritated and more puppyish and insistent. Dean says the case can wait until first thing and goes back to talk to the bar women and Sam calls after him forlornly.

His expression KILLS me. He wants Dean’s attention soso bad. He smiles after this though, because he loves Dean and finds him endearing.

-Sam lies artfully to the auction house guy. Dean tries to order champagne from him and calls him chuckles. Dean is good at defying authority by confronting, ridiculing, and fighting it.

-Sam says he took an art history course to meet girls and I believe him. He probably really wanted to meet someone to get his mind off of Dean.

-Dean asks Sam to call Sarah. It’s like he recognizes this puppy version of Sam and knows whatever he does doesn’t seem to help, so he’s trying to supply him with the one thing he really can’t do himself. He’s always controlling about Sam’s sex life but this time it’s coming from concern. And probably his own guilt, like he’s trying to repair something.

-Sarah asks Sam why he hasn’t been dating and he looks troubled, doesn’t answer. Next scene is Dean sharpening a knife.

Knives are symbolic of masculinity and of separation, of cutting things away. They’re often suggestive of the risk of being seduced by a man or of being penetrated.

As Dean sharpens his knife, he hedges around asking Sam if he slept with her, trying to keep it casual.

He doesn’t look casual. He only puts the knife aside when Sam changes the subject to the case. It makes the conversation feel sexually charged. Dean is also trying to give Sam some separation by pushing him toward Sarah, and it’s not working. He’s dangerous, to Sam, who’s trying to resist him.

-Sam is not happy about Dean pretending to forget his wallet to try and set him up with Sarah. He looks at Dean like he’s let him down, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, like he really doesn’t like this.

He looks at Sarah, a very pretty art dealer, like she’s a bucket of slugs on his clean floor.

And he’s facing Dean, with his shoulder to her, until Dean physically leaves. He doesn’t blush or act embarrassed or anything when Dean pushes him toward her, he just seems uninterested and offended that Dean isn’t listening to him.

[justmeinadaze]

Pushing the Barrier ( Eddie X Reader) 

A/N: So this one needs some explanation. Idk why it popped in my head but lol there's a movie I like with Cillian Murphy called Breakfast on Pluto. There's a scene in that movie where his character works at a strip club in Ireland but instead of being like a normal style strip club there are rooms that are cut in half. On one side is a glass case where she sits on a swing and talks to the men that come in. They can see her but she can't see them. That was my inspiration for where Eddie working in this one. There are other movies that have places like this but I love that one and Cillian Murphy is always a win lol I did set this in New York because I didn't think Hawkins would have a place like this.

Warnings: I am classifying this as Stripper Eddie even though he doesn't dance. Lol. Reader is unhappily married. A bit of angst here with much pining. Some smut for sure. I would like to make more parts to this and explore this a bit more but only if you guys like it. I definitely enjoyed writing it.

Word Count: 3196

You hugged your arms around you as you walked down the wet streets of New York. You and your husband had gotten into another fight when he came home late from work for the third time that week. 

“You said you would be home three hours ago! We were going to go out for dinner and finally spend some time together!”

“Y/N, I don’t know what you want from me. I work! Do you like this apartment and these fancy fucking clothes?! Someone has to work for them, babe.”

“Oh, fuck you and your self-righteous bullshit. I work and I buy my own clothes.”, you gesture at the dress you were wearing, “Just because you bought me this doesn’t mean you pay for my wardrobe!”

He stomped out of the apartment then and a few moments later so did you. You couldn’t stand to be there by yourself any longer. You roamed aimlessly for a while before the rain started coming down heavily. 

“Fuck!”, you exclaim, quickly dashing into the nearest building. 

“Whoa! It’s really coming down out there.” A tall, beautiful woman greets you with a beautiful smile as she hands you a towel from behind her counter. 

“Oh. Thank you. Yeah, it is.”

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve had a rough night.”

“I’m okay. Just…marital disputes.”

She chuckles to herself. “I understand that my dear. After my second divorce I said, ‘Never again!’. Then fate led me here.” She sweeps her hand around the building. “Maybe it’s just what you need as well.”

You finally take a good look around, squinting at the pictures of half-naked men and women on framed up on her walls. The signs on her desk had prices for set times of “shows” and thick binder of filled with people who were available to be viewed. 

“Um, I’m not really into this.”

She laughs again as she leans her back against the wall. “Now I know what you’re thinking. I’m not really into that kind of thing either but everyone is different. This isn’t a regular ‘stripper’ style joint I run. Yes, some people want them to get naked and dance sexily. Some people just want to sit and talk. Whether it’s dirty talk or regular conversation is completely up to the client.” She scans over your apprehensive face. 

“You know what? You’re first round is on me and I think I have the perfect gentleman for you.” The woman reaches for your arm and starts guiding you through the curtain behind her counter, down a long hallway. 

“Miss, I can’t—”

“Oh, come on. It is pouring and I’m not going to send you back out into that.” She stops outside of a door and turns to you. “Now here’s how it works. It will just be you and him. He will be behind the glass but it’s two way so you can see him but he can’t see you unless you want him to. I usually charge per hour but since this is free take all the time you need. When you’re done just exit and leave through that back door over there. We pride ourselves on privacy.”

She winks before opening the door and practically shoving you inside. 

“Fucking hell! No need to be so aggressive.”

“Mira can be a little rough, can’t she?” 

You turn around to the sound of a male voice chuckling behind you. The only light illuminating the room is the dim pink neon bulbs lining the ceiling and the massive stage style light in the glass cube in front of you. 

There’s a man behind its walls sitting in gigantic thrown style chair, strumming at a guitar. His long, wavy hair hung down to his shoulders and a gorgeous smile was currently stretched across his face. He tapped his bare foot against the floor as he played his instrument that was leaning on his shirtless chest. You could vaguely make out the tattoos along his body. His legs were still covered with his jeans, making you wonder if his ink on his skin trailed below his waist. 

“Whoa. I didn’t lose you now, did I?”

“Um, no. Hey. I mean hi.” You clear your throat, stammering over your words as you sit in the recliner style chair. “Can you…can you really not see me?”

His smile grows as he shakes his head. “Nope. I can just see myself. Thank God I’m so damn good looking.”

A genuine laugh escapes you as you cover your mouth to stifle it. It had been a while since anyone made you laugh like that. 

“Aw, no Sweetheart. Don’t cover up that giggle. It’s cute.” He leans back in his seat getting more comfortable. “Can I ask what your name is?”

“Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Mhmm. I bet you say that to everyone.” He playfully scoffs at your response. “Am I allowed to ask for your name?”

“You can ask me anything you want. I’m here for you. My name is Eddie.”

“Like Iron Maiden.” Eddie’s fingers freeze as he looks up at the glass in front of him. “That’s their mascot, right? The guy on all their tape covers. 

He set the guitar down to the side. “I have never met a woman who knew that.” Eddie’s head tilts to the side as his eyes continue to scan in front of him. “Wow. I’ve also never hated having this glass blocking me before either.”

“The lady said you couldn’t see me unless I wanted you to. There’s nothing you can do?”

He shakes his head again as he stands up, walking forward. His long, index finger points somewhere towards his left. “There’s a switch over there that can flip off the settings and allow me to see you. As you can imagine a lot of people prefer to remain hidden.”

“So, you do do other things besides just talking and playing guitar?”

A coy smile spreads across his lips as he sits back down in his chair. “I’m here for your pleasure.” Eddie takes note that you don’t continue by playing on his words like his other clients usually do. “Y/N? Can I ask something else?”

You nod before you realize he can’t see it. “Sure. You can ask me anything.”

“Why are you here? Not that I don’t like your company but this doesn’t feel like your usual scene.”

“It’s storming outside and I needed a place to hide so I ran into the nearest building. I had no idea what this place was.”

“Why were you walking around outside so late at night?”

“My husband and I got into a fight.” Eddie leans forward waiting for you to continue. “We were supposed to go out for dinner but he said he was working late. He’s always working late.” You get up from your seat and start pacing the tiny room. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That sounds lonely.”

“I just didn’t want to be in the apartment by myself right now.”

Eddie rises again crawling down on the floor towards the front of his chamber. He crosses his legs, staring at the void that is his reflection. “Do you really believe he’s at work?”

“Of course! He’s a businessman. Where else would he be?”

“Hey now, Princess. I’m just asking questions.” He holds up his palms in defense. “I only meant that even if I was president, if I had a dinner date with you, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Yeah well, you’re a stripper or whatever the fuck this is so you wouldn’t understand, would you?”

Eddie’s eyes fell and you immediately regretted getting defensive. You walk toward him and lightly tap on the glass. His head comes up as his gaze meets the sound. You knock on it again as he crawls forward, pressing his hand up against it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about it. This?”, he gestures towards the room. “I do this for the money and its good money. Yeah, sometimes I jack off for strangers or just take off my clothes while they say dirty shit but I’m not going to do this forever.”

You reach up pressing your palm against his outside the glass. At that moment, you wish you could touch him. You wished you could feel his arms wrap around you and taste those beautiful lips against yours. He seemed so vulnerable in that moment you wanted to do whatever you could to make him feel better. Whether that meant going to dinner or riding him until he came inside you, you weren’t sure. 

That’s when the guilt started taking over. You were married! You shouldn’t be thinking like this. This was wrong. 

“Eddie, I’m, um, I’m sorry I have to go.” You quickly began gathering your things. 

“Wait, Y/N, you don’t have to—”

The sound of the slammed door cut him off as you ran down the hallway and out the back door. 

##############

“Y/N!” Your husband’s aggressive tone snaps you back into reality. 

“For the love of God, yes?!”

“I’m talking to you here. Are you listening?” 

That following Saturday, you husband tried to apologize to you by taking you out to dinner. You were hoping for a more romantic setting but this in and out style place was fine. At least he was actually there with you and not at the office. 

“I’m listening, honey. I hear you.”

You glance around the restaurant as he goes on about some mundane office gossip. The door to the building dinged as it was opened and someone rushed inside, wiping his boots against the mat before walking further in. 

Eddie. 

Your brain froze as you watched him move. Your first instinct was to hide before you remembered he hadn’t seen your face that night. Seeing him outside of that glass case was so surreal. 

“Are you finished? I am. Why don’t you wait here while I go pay.”

“No! I mean, no. I’ll stand with you.” His eyebrows come together as you smile him. 

Your eyes drink him in as you and your husband wait behind Eddie to pay. His hair was down and slightly frizzy from the rain outside. His leather jacket and blue jean vest rested on his broad shoulders perfectly, making your mouth water. The blue jeans were more or less the same that he had on before except for the chain that hung below his pocket and the studded belt that wrapped around his waist. 

He turned around suddenly smacking chest first into you. 

“Whoa! Sweetheart, I am so sorry.” Hearing his voice so crystal clear reverberated through your body down to you core. His cologne hit your nostrils, making you wish you could lay your head against his chest all day. 

“Hey guy! Watch where you are going!” Your husband shouts, pulling you to the side. 

“Yeah, like I said. I’m really sorry. Just trying to get some food and get to work.” Eddie’s eyes flick to your own. “I’m sorry.” Before you can respond, he quickly shuffles out the door. 

##################

“Ahhhh Y/N! Good to see you again.” Mira smiles as you cautiously enter the building. “I must say, I didn’t think you’d be coming back.”

“I, um, is Eddie here?”

Her eyes playfully squint in your direction. “He was that good huh? Yup, Eddie is here and he is available but no free rides this time. I will have to charge you.” 

You hand her some cash before she beams over at you, grabbing your hand, and guiding you down that familiar hallway. This time you open the door and walk right in. 

You let out a thankful sigh when you see him sitting in his usual chair. Tonight, he was just wearing some blue boxers as he leaned back, heavy eyes staring ahead of him at the glass. 

“You look exhausted.”

You watch as his eyes light up at the sound of your voice. “Y/N? Hey. I thought I lost you.”

“Naw. I’m not going to lie; you scared me a little bit last time.”

Eddie’s eyes flashed concern. “Did I come on to strong?”

“No but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m attracted to you.”

He smiles as he stands up, walking towards the glass. “It’s probably even weirder for me to say I’m attracted to you to.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.” He eyes scan the lower part of the glass where he assumes you are. “I’ve been thinking about your voice all week. Imagining the lips that voice belongs to.” His grin widens when he hears a pleasurable sigh leave you. “What made you come back to me, Princess?”

“I saw you today. Outside.”

Eddie looks up towards the ceiling, trying to remember everywhere he had been that day. “Where?”

“I can’t tell you. You were very close to me though. You looked really handsome even with your frizzy, wet hair.” You giggle at him and he can’t help but bite his bottom lip at the sound. “It was kind of odd hearing your voice outside of here. You being so close that I could smell you.”

He sauntered closer till he was almost pressed up against the glass in front of him. “And how did that make you feel?”

You tapped the barrier between you and he glanced in that direction getting down on his knees. He couldn’t see it but he was almost face to face with you. You knock on it again causing him to smile as he knocks back.

“Tell me, baby. Please. I want to hear it.”

“Your voice sounded so beautiful. I felt my panties get wet listening to you.”

Eddie licked his lips as he swallowed down a moan. His palm came down to graze the growing tent in his boxers. “Is this ok?”, he whispers.

“Yeah, it’s ok.”

“Are, are you wet right now?”

You could have faked it. You could have told him you were without checking but it felt wrong in some way. EVERYTHING about this was wrong but you didn’t care at that moment. 

Reaching your fingers into your pants and past the waistband of your panties, you dip your fingers between your folds against your clit. 

“I am really fucking wet.” You both chuckle. 

Eddie pulls his cock out, spitting on his hand before stroking it onto himself. You groan at the sight of him, pressing your forehead against the wall as you watch him. You start rubbing fast circles into your swollen nub. 

His palm presses into the glass as he throws his head back in ecstasy. “Fuck. I wish I could see you.”

Opening your legs a bit wider, you push two fingers into your entrance. Eddie whimpers when he hears you moan. “Jesus, please tell me what you’re doing over there.”

“I’m fingering myself.”

“Mmmm. How many fingers?” He moans when you answer him, pumping his cock faster with his fist. “Is that all you can fit? Fuck. Just imagining my dick in that tight pussy. You whispering filthy words to me with that beautiful fucking voice.”

“Eddie.” Your hand slams up towards the window, meeting his own as you thrust you fingers into you aggressively. 

“That’s right, baby. Make yourself cum. Fuck I bet you look so fucking gorgeous right now.” 

His name continues to fall from your lips as the coil snaps and you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. You look up at him just in time to see his body shiver before ropes of his seed come out of his cock onto the floor in front of him. 

Eddie lifts his head and for a moment you think he can actually see you. You’re not sure if it’s something in his eyes or the endorphins coursing through your body but you reach over with your right hand flicking the switch on the cube. 

He blinks for a second, letting his eyes adjust before his gorgeous chocolate eyes land on yours. You see the recognition cross through his mind, remembering how he accidently ran into you today. 

Suddenly the lights in the room flash twice signaling the end of your hour. Mira’s voice drifts through an intercom above your head. 

“Alright, mama. Time is up. Eddie, I’m giving you one more client in 30minutes so be ready.”

You back away from the glass, looking away as you reach for your things. 

“Wait! No, no, no. Don’t leave.” He stands up quickly, pleading with his face. 

“I have to. I—”

The door abruptly opens as Mira gestures towards you. “Come on, Honey. I’d offer another hour but someone else came in.”

Eddie smacks the barrier with his hand. “Fuck off, Mira! Can’t you give them to someone else?”

“Oh, someone is feisty tonight.” She gives him a look before lightly pushing you out the door. You can hear the string of expletives leaving his mouth as you exit and head down the hallway. “Alright, baby. Come back again, ok?”

Once you’re outside, you finally allow yourself to breathe. You lean your back against the building as the tears start to flow. I’m so stupid. This is wrong and even if it wasn’t… What did I think was going to happen?

“Y/N!” Your head shoots up to see shirtless Eddie with jeans and untied boots running down the alleyway. You turn to leave but he’s quicker as he appears in front of you. “Wait. Please!” He places his hands on his waist as he pants. “Fuck, I really need to quit smoking.”

Your exasperated giggle makes him smile. “Your husband was the asshole who scolded me?” 

You sigh as you nod. “I’m sorry.” A shaky sigh leaves his own mouth at the sound of your voice outside of the room. “He can be a bit uptight.”

“I, uh, hope I didn’t come off like a jerk or anything. When I saw you in there…I just… you’re so beautiful.” 

You reach your fingers towards him, caressing his cheek. “This isn’t right. I should go home.”

“To be alone?”

Eddie’s arms fly forward, pulling you to him as his lips crash to yours. Your other hand comes up to his face, holding him to you. The taste of him was better than you imagined. 

“Eddie Munson!” Mira’s voice carries down the alley. Your mouth chases his as he pulls away. “I swear to God, if you don’t get back in there I will fire you!”

“I’m coming! Give me a god damn second!” 

Your hands glide down his chest as he turns his attention back to you. “You should get back in there.”

“Can I see you again?”

“Eddie, I don’t know…”

“Look, no pressure.” He reaches into his jeans and pulls out a small yellow flyer, handing it to you. “My band is playing here on Wednesday. You can come, hang out, listen to us play, and then after we can talk.”

His lips find yours again before receiving an answer. As he pulls away, his thumb traces your lips as he smiles. “It feels so good just to be able to touch you.” With that he turns on his heels, running back towards the front of the building. 

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

You are, I’m sure, familiar with Occam’s razor. It’s the old philosophical theorem that holds that the simplest explanation for an event, the one requiring the fewest assumptions, is probably the best explanation. If you wake up in the morning and there’s snow on the lawn, there are any number of possible explanations. Maybe some friends played a practical joke on you and dumped snow in your yard. Maybe space aliens visited during your slumber and dusted your lawn with the white stuff. Or—maybe it snowed last night.

Republicans keep asking, completely dishonestly, why so much criminal suspicion surrounds Donald Trump. They say it’s all being orchestrated by Joe Biden and Merrick Garland. They insist it’s an effort to interfere with his election campaign. They say a lot of things, but if ever there was a case where Occam’s razor applied, it’s this one. Trump is surrounded by criminal suspicion because he’s a criminal.

He’s been doing criminal things for decades. He just finally got cornered and caught on something. I’ve been writing recently that Democrats have to make sure every voter in the country remembers by Election Day, having heard it said thousands of times, that Donald Trump is a convicted felon. That’s true, and so far, Democrats and affiliated groups aren’t doing a terrible job of this. It’s a little sad that the best expression I’ve seen of this so far comes from a Republican—fiercely anti-Trump Republican Sarah Longwell’s group, Republican Voters Against Trump, has put up some blunt billboards around the country featuring photos of voters, with their names, under the statement: “I won’t vote for a convicted felon.”

But Democrats need to do more. Trump’s criminality, both past and future, should be central to the campaign. There’s a story to tell here, and it’s all true. No matter what the pollsters and the messaging gurus say, it’s impossible that all of this, taken together, doesn’t matter to swing voters.

To tell the story, you go through Trump’s record:

• convicted on 34 felony counts • determined by a court to have raped a woman and ordered to pay her $83 million • found by a court to have overvalued his assets and ordered to pay $364 million • ordered to pay a $2 million settlement after admitting that he misused his charity, which the state of New York shut down • found by the Justice Department to have refused to rent apartments to Black applicants; settled out of court • sued by the Justice Department for violating proper procedures in the purchase of stock; paid $750,000 in civil fines • charged by the New York State Lobbying Commission with violating state lobbying laws while purchasing a casino; paid $250,000 to settle fines • found by the courts to have grossly defrauded students at the so-called Trump University and ordered to pay them $25 million in restitution

This list isn’t even the tip of the iceberg. It’s the tip of the tip. Trump has spent four decades being sued for something or other, typically not paying his bills, like those famous cases where he stiffed the poor vendors for his casinos, filing his own ridiculous countersuits and libel suits, and paying fines to make things go away. If indeed he actually paid the fines. I wonder if anyone has ever really gotten to the bottom of that. And I haven’t even mentioned the current charges around January 6 and the stolen classified documents because, so far, they’re just charges. But whatever the courts end up saying on those two matters, we’ve all seen with our own eyes the insurrection that he obviously incited (as of this January, 718 rioters had pleaded guilty to various federal charges, and 139 had been found guilty in court) and the photos of the boxes of documents at Mar-a-Lago that he refused for months to turn over to the FBI.

Another important point: The criminality around Trump isn’t limited to Trump. Eight Trump associates were sentenced to prison time: Steve Bannon, Michael Cohen (joined the good side but still served time), Rick Gates, Paul Manafort, Peter Navarro, George Papadopoulos, Roger Stone, and Allen Weisselberg. Others copped pleas: Michael Flynn, Sidney Powell, Kenneth Cheseboro, and Scott Hall, another Georgia defendant.

This is not a coincidence. As GOP strategist Rick Wilson said, “Everything Trump touches dies”; he corrupts everything and everyone around him. And does anyone seriously think that if he gets back to the Oval Office, the same thing isn’t going to happen again? It’s going to be worse.

It’s going to be far worse. First, he’s going to start, on that dictatorial day one, by pardoning himself. Joe Biden and the Democrats need to try to get voters focused on this. If it happens, people will be completely outraged. Yes, the 38% or so who are MAGA world will be fine with it, but majorities will be flabbergasted at such an act. Is it possible to get voters pre-outraged about something that hasn’t happened? The polls will say no. But as I’ve written over and over lately, polls can either be accepted—or they can be changed.

Right now, what’s most terrifying to me about the polls is that they tell us emphatically that people forget. They forget all the horrible things Trump did. That includes presidential actions, like his lies to the American people about the pandemic, but it also includes his history of criminality and the way that history guarantees he’ll keep behaving that way.

In sum: Trump’s criminal record hardly begins and ends with Stormy Daniels. Somebody needs to make sure that, by November 5, voters know the entire, sordid history.

[theseeingfawn]

Chapter 7: A Rose for Us

Summary:

Azriel's connection with the Attors grows stronger as he works covertly to dismantle their operation from within. Meanwhile, he takes Elain on a second date, the two growing closer. But, tensions flare when he appears to go back on his word.

Azriel

I’m at Amarantha’s meeting with Brannagh, the President of the Attors. It turns out the man I introduced myself to last week is her twin brother Dagdan. She’s less than pleased to be sitting with me but she doesn’t have much of a choice. Now that I revealed myself as the Shadowsinger, the Attors are well aware who holds power. Who has the ability to make or break their foothold in Windhaven. 

We’re negotiating terms for me allowing them to stay. My only real demand is that they buy their weapons from me.  For this plan to work, they need to use the traceable guns from the FBI. So that we can find their network, track their crimes and ultimately bring down Hybern. Not just this one fledgling biker gang. I can tell by their stiff body language and suspicious looks that they don’t like it. I have no doubt that they’ll try to undermine me at some point but they don’t have much of a choice right now because I have leverage. 

Dagdan is currently at the hospital recovering while in handcuffs. I’m pleased with myself for that and for my date with Elain. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this satisfied. It’s rare for things to go my way. I'm trying to enjoy it but I can't help but feel that it’s only a matter of time before the other shoe drops. It always does and then I am left with nothing. Am nothing.

“Can you get my brother out of police custody?” Brannagh’s anxious tone brings me back to reality. 

Rolling my eyes isn’t the best course of action so I suppress the urge, “Why would I do that?”

The tension between us is palpable and her associates flinch at every curt exchange. She hasn’t agreed to use my weapons and I won’t help her brother, hell I won’t let him live, until she agrees to what I want. I hold all the cards here. I may not be the boss of an organization but I have my own ways, outside of the law, outside of the FBI to get what I want. And now that I’m here and know how close these assholes are to Elain and Hewn Hills, I will do what I must to protect what I care about. 

“If you’re as powerful as everyone claims, it should be easy to get him out of the hospital, out of these charges.”

I give her a cruel smile, “You want your brother? Agree to use my weapons. Refuse and I will finish what I started. Refuse and I will show you just how powerful I can be when provoked.”

The muscle in her jaw ticks. This is clearly a woman not used to being denied what she wants. She’s usually in charge, usually the ruthless one. But, they’ll soon learn there is no one more ruthless than me, no one more willing to sully their hands to get what they want. 

Her associates look poised to strike, ready for a brawl if she says no. There are five of them in the bar and only one of me but I’ve faced worse odds. Just the thought of a fight sends a pulse of energy through me. My blood is humming with anticipation. Since my date with Elain, after I got to taste those sweet and full lips, my body has been a live wire. Poised to strike at any moment. My body has been so on edge from denying myself I can hardly tell the difference now between the urge to fight or fuck. I have enough pent up sexual energy to lay waste to armies. I blink, trying to clear my head. Now is not the time to be dreaming about Elain. 

The tension finally snaps when Brannagh grits out a frustrated “Fine.”

With her agreement, I make plans to get her brother out of custody and set up a weapons drop. She doesn’t seem happy, which is to be expected. I just drove a bulldozer through their nefarious scheme to take over Windhaven. I’ll need to be extra vigilant now in case they decide to test the limits of my control. I ruminate over what they might do next as I walk back to the safe house. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Hey Cass.” 

“Az! You have to help me.” I pinch the tender skin between my eyebrows, a headache already forming. 

“What's going on?”

“So, I may or may not have fucked up.”

I let out a long suffering sigh, “Why don't you tell me what happened?”

“I made a bet with Rhys that I could get Nesta to go out with me. If I won he had to give me $5,000 and if I lost, well… he would cut Nesta off.” 

“Gods Cass, that's diabolical. Why would you agree to that?”

“I may have overestimated how she feels about me.” I groan. Cass and Nesta were definitely attracted to one another but Nesta is not in a good place and Cass lacks… subtlety. 

“Let me guess… You lost?”

“Fuck yes I lost! Now Rhys has cut Nesta off and he's convinced Feyre it was for the best. Now Feyre thinks if I make Nesta work at my gym she’ll fall in love with me.” 

I fight back laughter. I love Feyre but she is such a meddlesome creature. Her and Rhys together hatch some of the most convoluted hairbrained schemes. Both egotistical and gregarious enough to pull it off. I’m grateful that Elain had the foresight to keep our arrangement quiet. I don't even want to think about what the two of them would inflict upon us if they had the chance. 

“Yeah Cass, you fucked up. Big time.” 

“Damn it, Az! You're supposed to comfort me!”

“When have I ever done that?” 

“You have to help me! Nesta moved into my apartment. She won't talk to me. If I leave my stuff on the floor she burns it. I think she might kill me in my sleep.” This time I can’t help it, I bark out a laugh. Cass unleashes a string of Illyrian curses making me laugh harder. 

“Azriellllll, please help me!” His whiny little pleading is embarrassing for a grown man. 

I sigh, “It sounds like she needs another outlet for her frustration. Is she working around the gym? Does she have friends or something she can do, just for her?”

“She refuses to work and just sits in the corner glaring at my clients. It's starting to impact my business. One guy left a review claiming I employed witches. We just opened Azriel!!!” He suddenly grows quieter as if Nesta might overhear him, “And hell no she doesn't have friends, the woman is a she devil”

I remember the worried look on Elain’s face when she talked about Nesta at the market. What would Elain want? 

I sigh, “Isn't there a women's shelter across the street from the gym?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

“See if you can get her to volunteer there. Maybe she needs to help others before she can see that she needs help too. It might also give her some perspective on her life.”

“Yeah okay, I'll try that. But if it doesn't work, and she kills me, will you recover my body and bury it properly? I'm afraid of what she might do to me postmortem.”

“I promise. Let me know if you need a chaperone.”

“Fuck off.”

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

Elain

The late summer air is warm and pleasant as I make the short walk from Petals to the community center. I bask in the last rays of the fading sun and watch as fireflies begin whirling around. Everything feels so comforting and familiar as I make my way to the back room where I host the town’s knitting circle. A group that Bernadette has named, “Chicks with Sticks.” The group consists of me, Nuala, Cerridwen, Bernadette, and a few other women from town. Nuala likes to refer to our group as the real town council. She’s not wrong, our little innocuous knitting circle is how most town business gets decided. We wield a surprising amount of power and the men in town are unaware since they never deign to join our group. In fact, Graysen used to call us the council of grannies. My nose scrunches with distaste at the memory. 

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Bernadette greets me as I make my way through the door. 

I snort out a laugh, “Graysen.”

She gives me a sympathetic look, “you say the word and I’ll shove one of these up his nose.” She pulls out a knitting needle and waves it around. I smile at her, Bernadette who has been like a grandmother to me. After my mother died, she watched over me and my sisters like we were her own kin. Once upon a time, Nesta and Feyre used to be a part of the knitting circle. But, Feyre moved away and can’t seem to make the time. And Nesta, well she has closed herself off to our old life. 

The room starts to fill with voices as everyone arrives. We arrange ourselves and pull out our latest projects. I’m currently working on a throw covered in little strawberries made of yarn. This particular knitting project will be sold at the farmer’s market. Most of my knitting projects are sold there or donated to the women’s shelter. I have always found working with my hands to help soothe and quiet my wayward thoughts. Baking, gardening and knitting help me channel those thoughts into something productive, something beautiful I can share with others. 

It’s not long before we’re chattering about everything and everyone. We discuss council business, plans for the fall and most importantly gossip. 

“Didn’t you hear? A bomb went off on Maple Avenue last week.” Pauline feverishly knits as she recounts how Janet Anderson’s trashcan had exploded out of nowhere. We’ve all heard the story by now. Nothing else exciting has happened since Azriel ran shirtless through town. Knowing that the usually reserved and stoic man has been the cause of such scandal makes me want to smile. But I suppress the urge. 

“Oh hush you drama queen, it was just a firework.” Bernadette chides.

Pauline glares at her from across the circle, “That’s not what Graysen said, he claimed it was a man made device. I told you we needed those street lamps.”

Last year, Graysen, the town’s one and only sheriff, received a small grant to improve the town's safety. He proposed speed bumps or street lamps to the town council. Pauline demanded we vote for street lamps. But, speed bumps won. Bernaette was in charge of counting votes and the implication that she meddled with the votes was heavy. I, of course, did not contribute to the gossip about Bernadette tampering with the votes. I myself may or may not have done such a thing myself, when needed. 

Pauline added, “Graysen said Sam saw Azriel take off on his motorcycle with some hussy.” 

The whole room stops knitting and stares at Pauline. Now that’s new. “You mean he has a girlfriend?” Josie asks a little too curious for my liking. 

“Was she a local girl?” Asks Dr. Madja, practically vibrating with excitement. 

Cerridwen subtly knocks my foot with hers. She’s giving me an amused look like we have some dark and dangerous secret. Which we most certainly do and I have to bite my cheek to suppress a giggle. 

Pauline sucks in an exaggerated breath, “Lord, I hope she isn’t a local girl. Can you imagine? I told Elain he was no good. He’s stripteased. Then there’s that noisy motorcycle and now an explosion!” She leans forward, “I knew he had unabomber energy.”

Nuala and Cerridwen start giggling. Bernadette rolls her eyes and mutters a curse under her breath.

Anna, one of the clerks at the market chasizes, “Pauline, he's too cute to be a bomber! Besides, I don't think he is the type to have a girlfriend .” Everyone turns to her and she blushes at the sudden attention and says more quietly, “he probably has a harem of lovers.”

Josie jumps to her feet, “Thanks for the reminder Anna!” She rushes over to the bluetooth speaker and starts the audiobook we selected last week. The knitting circle also enjoys listening to smutty books while we work. This one is about a reverse harem and it’s very steamy. So much so, that Pauline feels the need to announce she doesn’t want to hear it every time we queue it up. Even though we all know she secretly enjoys it. 

We sit and knit for the next several minutes, enjoying the graphic scene being played over the speaker when I catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure outside the window. A man is walking toward the building across the street, my building. My heart starts leaping in my chest. I make eye contact with the tall figure with tattoos down his arm. My breath catches, it’s him. He hitches his head toward Petal’s. It's go time! 

I shoot to my feet and everyone looks at me. I panic and reach for anything to get out of here. “I’m not feeling well,” I clutch my stomach and groan. 

“Oh no,” Nuala says, her eyes searching over my body for any signs of something amiss. “Are you okay?”

“I think so, my stomach is cramping, I might be sick.” I stuff my knitting needles into my bag and snatch it from the floor. Nuala stands too, “Let me walk you home.”

“No!” I say, taking a step back. “No, you should stay here. I’m probably just going to start my period or something. You stay here, I will call if I need anything.”

I can practically feel the suspicious looks of the women around me. I reassure them that I’m okay but should probably call it a night and rest. And then I leave the community center. 

“Azriel,” I whisper into the darkness. I don’t see or hear anything. “Azriel, where are you?” I start to think I imagined him, that's how desperate I am to see him again. If that’s the case, then I will have reached a whole new level of pathetic if I start seeing the man in every shadow. I can’t help but admit that I may have more than just a crush on him. 

I like him. Really really like him. 

I keep trying to tell myself that he is just helping me and this is a temporary arrangement but the memory of his lips on mine argues otherwise. I remember the way his normally guarded face slipped, how his hazel eyes burned with a passion that threatened to destroy me. Eyes that I have dreamt of every night since.

“Azriel! Where ever are -” A rough hand wraps around my wrist and tugs me into the darkness. I know it’s Aziriel before I see him. I would know that touch anywhere. His hand slips from my wrist and his scarred fingers lace through mine. And then there’s his scent. It’s so uniquely his, strong and masculine. I land with my back against the wall and we’re chest to chest. I can see his wicked smirk in the dark and a thrill shoots through me.  

“Hello Elain,” he says gently, pulling at an errant curl near the nape of my neck. I want to melt into him. Pull him into a kiss and wrap my legs around his waist. I want. I want. I want. 

Instead I stand there motionless, afraid that the want pulsing through me will betray the easy demeanor I am trying to maintain. “Hello Azriel.”

“Have you been good today?” I blink, thinking I heard wrong. Surely he meant, “have you had a good day?” But I can tell by the way his lips twitch that he meant something else entirely. 

“Yes,” I breathe. “Entirely too good.”

He tsks his disapproval and I want nothing more than to please him, to be bad. 

He tugs gently on the curl he is toying with, “Now Elain, that just won’t do.” There is a grittiness to his voice that makes me want to lick and nip at him. Who is the wanton creature I've become ? 

The crazy thing is, I know Azriel would let me. He would offer himself up for a taste and it would be thrilling for me but to him it would be another evening.

He must be used to sneaking around in the dark, doing things he ought not to be doing. Azriel must have kissed countless women in shadowed corners. Anna’s words bring me back to reality. This might be new and thrilling to me but Azriel is experienced with women. Has likely had countless lovers over the years and I would do well to remember that.

“What are we doing tonight?”

He gives me a mischievous grin and the gold in his eyes shine in the moonlight. “Something you’ve always wanted to do but have been too afraid to.”

My stomach rolls, suddenly feeling the nausea I feigned to have earlier. “You don’t mean…”

“You’re getting a tattoo.” 

“What?!” I say, shocked that this is where my night has gone. “No.” I shake my head. “I can’t do that Azriel!”

“You can.” His voice softens at my nervousness. He squeezes my hand and I realize he is still holding it. “I’ve already made an appointment with an artist in Windhaven who seems good. I’ll be with you the whole time.” He raises our hands so that I can see how they are joined, “I’ll even hold your hand, if you need it.” Then he places a tender kiss along my knuckles. His unguarded affection shocks me as much as it delights me. “You can do this… if you want.”

I take a deep breath and I realize I do want it. I have wanted it for so long. Normally I would be too afraid to do what I really want. Too afraid to disappoint, never feeling safe enough to be who I really am. I’ve committed to learning myself, to follow my impulses. To be selfish. To be bad. 

With his hand in mine, suddenly the things I want don’t seem so bad. “Let’s go.”

“I didn’t mean right now, you can go back and finish your knitting.” 

I smile up at his thoughtful expression, “They don’t need me. I want to do this with you.”

Azriel

This was a mistake. I hear myself say it over and over again in my head as we approach the tattoo parlor. The parlor isn’t the friendliest looking place, but the options were limited. Hewn Hills doesn’t have a tattoo parlor, for all I know there is a law banning it considering how crazy the town folk are. Velaris wasn’t a great choice either with Rhys and his snooping. Luckily, the most highly reviewed place nearby was in Windhaven. 

When we pull up to the parlor, I park my bike in a secluded alley. When I look back at Elain, I thought she would be nervous. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Before I could even check in on how she’s feeling she’s racing to the front door. 

“Come on, why are you moving so slow?” She said, grabbing the door and yanking it open. I grab it from her hand and hold it open so she can walk through. I take one look inside and my stomach drops. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I say looking around at the shop and feeling a bit remorseful. It looks like some backwoods hole in the wall. I’m not even sure why I am feeling this way. It’s just the thought of Elain with all of her softness going into one of those back rooms and being inked forever has me suddenly feeling like a mother hen. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never been one to deny a trip to the dark side, to indulge in risk taking. 

And yet… something about Elain has me feeling protective, cautious even. I realize now how precious she is to me. How much I want to protect and care for her. I feel possessive even. 

She doesn’t pick up on my unease as she laughs, “Yes, I'm very sure.”

I take a closer look and I feel my fingers curl into a fist. This place is dark and dingy. The paint is peeling off the walls. Are the needles even sterile? What if she gets an infection?

I can’t do this. I’m already losing my mind. 

“On second thought, let’s just go to Velaris.” I’m stalling, nearly sputtering out my words. 

She looks at me and a sad little frown takes over her lovely face. I feel awful, like I kicked a puppy. But before she can speak a burly man comes in.

“Are you Elain?”

She beams, “That’s me.”

My fists somehow clench even tighter at the thought of this bearded brute laying a finger on her perfect unblemished skin. I’ll fucking kill him . 

“Follow me.” The tattoo artist says with no hint of kindness in his voice. I suddenly feel sick. She’s about to mark her body forever because of me. Because I’m a bad influence. Because I goaded her into being bad. I’ve never felt so guilty in my life. 

Elain takes a step forward and I pull her back to me. She whirls around, her honey and jasmine scent fills my nose. She’s so bright and lovely, too special for this shithole. 

“What’s wrong?”

“This was a mistake.”

“What?” She asks slightly amused. “No. It’s not. It’s the best idea, I’m so glad you thought of it.”

The image of a snarling Rhys flashes before my eyes. Your idea. 

I wince and grab her hand. “You’re right, it was my idea and I was wrong. It should be you who decides. Not me pressuring you.”

“But you’re not pressuring me, Azriel.” She huffs and tugs on my grip, “in fact you are the one holding me back.”

“Let’s go.” I practically growl at her. “I’ll take you somewhere else, we can do this another time after you’ve thought about it some more.” I sound desperate and I don’t know why. 

Elain looks at me and her eyes flash a warning. A face I’ve never once seen from her before. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A shiver runs down my spine and I swear to the gods I feel my knees shake. 

“Don't. You. Dare.” She says jabbing a dainty finger into my chest. 

I frown at her, “What are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know what’s happening? You are treating me the way everyone else does.” She sneers, actually sneers at me and I flinch. “You’re thinking I’m too sweet and precious. And I’m warning you… don’t.” I blink at her words. She closes her eyes and whispers, “I can handle it from everyone else. But not from you Azriel. Never you.” 

And just like that I am at her mercy. Gods she’s right. I am doing the very thing I promised her I wouldn’t do. I’m coddling her. Hearing her say she values my opinion more than anyone else is enough to make me want to preen. I smile, feeling proud of her for being bold and brave. “Go get your tattoo Elain.”

She straightens her back, “Thank you, I will.” She turns to leave and I step with her and she turns back to me. “Actually you stay here.”

Apprehension returns. “No, I'm going with you.”

She arches a cheeky eyebrow at me that sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock. ”Let me make myself clear. I am going back there alone and you are going to stay here. You’ll see my tattoo if I think you deserve it. Understood, Azriel?”

Fuck me. My fist clenches so tight I hear my knuckles crack. I have never felt so attracted to someone in my life. Every day Elain reveals a new layer of herself and fuck if it doesn’t have me wanting more. I fight the urge to press her against the wall and claim her mouth. 

She turns away and I have no choice but to watch as her perfect ass disappears into the back. 

I’m too antsy to sit in the parlor and wait. I go outside and pace back and forth in the alley for thirty minutes before Elain walks out. She’s practically running toward me and the bike. 

“Let’s go.”

I freeze. Worst case scenarios are flying through my brain so fast I can hardly keep up. I turn back to look at her and she’s on the bike with her hands covering her face. I watch her shoulders shake and I think I might snap. 

Elain removes her hands from her face and her flushed cheeks are wet with tears. Fury and rage overtake me. 

“What did he do to you? Was the asshole inappropriate? Did he touch you?” I am two seconds from pulling my concealed knife out and reenacting the scene at Amarantha’s on the son of a bitch inside. 

“Stop. Roach was a perfect gentleman.” She sniffles, “I’m going to bake his daughter's birthday cake next week.” I relax for a moment. But then her tears return and it’s all my fault. She’s here because of me. I pushed her too far. I brace myself as I sit facing her on the bike.

“Then why are you upset?” I ask, desperate to make it better.

She looks me in the eye. Her glassy brown eyes are so tender and sweet. “Because I needed to come out here and cry.”

“Because you regret the tattoo?”

“No.” She wipes at her face and smiles. “It's just that I love it so much. Thank you for bringing me here… for making it happen Azriel.”

I take what feels like my first breath since we got here. I chuckle, unable to stop myself. I reach up and wipe away the rest of her tears. “You know, I would have killed that man for you?”

She gives me a small smile, “That’s awfully sweet of you Azriel.”  She is completely sincere which is both endearing and mildly concerning. We both burst out laughing. The surrealness of the situation finally hit us. 

I look her over and don’t see any obvious sign of a tattoo. “Can I see it?”

She nods and turns to the side, practically curled into my lap. She pulls her long hair to the side and tugs her shirt up. And then my breath catches. She exposes the right side of her torso to me revealing inch after inch of smooth skin. Her hand delicately clasps under her bare breast and I fight back a groan. I see the covering and she nods for me to remove it. 

I gently slide my fingers over her soft skin and lift the bandage. “I got a rose,” she says shyly. “I was going to get a slice of cake on my wrist like we talked about. But, then I saw the sketch of a rose Roach had been working on and I knew it was meant for me.”

I sit staring unblinking at what I see. A beautiful rose is tattooed across her ribs. It looks like like mine. My mother’s rose . I swallow hard. My fingers delicately trace the fine lines of the flower. The curves of the petals. “I wanted something special. Something to remember this moment with you.” 

I smile at the sight before me. Elain with her body exposed to me. A peak of her round and full breast slipping between her fingers. A rose, my rose marked on her skin. I’ll never forget this moment. Before I know what I am doing, I bend over and press my lips against her newly inked skin. Elain sucks in a breath and I feel her skin pebble beneath my lips. I memorize the feel of her skin. I want to kiss every single inch of her body. I want to leave more marks on her. Claim her. Mine. Mine. Mine. 

I want to push her down onto the back of this bike and taste her until she’s screaming my name. I want to worship her. I want to belong to her and the thought scares me. 

I pull away with too much effort and gently place her bandage back over the tattoo and tug her shirt down. 

“Beautiful, Elain. So, Beautiful.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Heyyy girlie👋🏾❤️this is an ask for Jesse Boone from NCIS:Hawaii. I have such a crush on him he is a perfect #2 in charge & friend & family man. I know you will bring him to life. I hope you enjoy writing for Jesse Boone.

My prompt is:#6-There was a time I met a girl of a different kind

Can’t wait for you to bring this to life ✍🏾👏🏾

Jesse waits until you’ve finished filling out the paperwork that goes along with the gun on the worktop in front of you before he steps over the threshold of the Ballistics Lab. You glance up, the pen still clasped in your hand as you give him that smile, the one that makes something blossom in his chest. He isn’t sure what it is about you that captivates him. Objectively you’re an attractive woman but there’s something more between the two of you, something deeper.

“Jesse.” You greet him as he lingers in the doorway. “I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you down here.”

You’re right, of course. This is the first time he’s ventured into the ballistics lab since your tenure. Evidence is usually collected by CSU at the scenes before being split between the relevant departments. All the ballistics reports are emailed to the agent’s working their cases. You were nothing but a name in his inbox until he laid eyes on you on back at the Gresby scene.

That place had been an armoury. Walls lined with gun cages, filled with assault rifles, pistols and God knows what else. It had been the set up for a mass casualty event, one his team had prevented but each one of those weapons needed to be catalogued and tested to see if they matched any open cases.

The sheer number of guns required both an agent and a supervisor to be present during processing and collection of the weapons, which is how the two of you had ended up meeting for the first time. He’d liked you from the offset, you were dedicated, efficient and you had a wicked sense of humour. He’d expected those few hours to drag but with you…

Somehow it had actually been a lot of fun. It’s been a long time since he’d laughed like that, not since before the divorce.

When you’d asked him to dinner that night, he’d been surprised because frankly you’re out of his league. He’s newly divorced with three kids and you’re fun, dynamic and just a little bit sexy with an M4 in your hands.

It’s the capability that he likes, the steady, practiced motions when you take a weapon apart and then piece it back together again.

“Can I get a raincheck?” He’d asked you as the two of you lingered by the evidence van.

“Sure.” You’d said as he’d held the door open for you. “But remember Jesse it doesn’t rain forever.”

He knows that you saw right through him in that moment because the truth is he’s nervous about putting himself out there again. He hasn’t had a first date in almost twenty years.

It’s the brush with fentanyl that changes things, confronting your own mortality really changes your perspective and Jesse, he’s tired of living in the past, he wants to start moving towards his future.

“Hey.” He says leaning against the door frame. “I’m here for that raincheck.”

Love Jesse? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@kmc1989

[f1ghtsoftly]

All The Women’s News You Missed Last Week:

9/9/24-9/16/24

US Reproductive Rights:

The Young Woman Making Kamala Harris’ Strongest Case on Abortion Rights

A judge strikes down North Dakota’s abortion ban and rules that access is protected

Missouri’s ballot will include abortion rights measure in November, court rules

More Women Had Their Tubes Tied After Roe V. Wade Was Overturned

Transgender/Gender Critical:

A look at Trump's 'transgender operations on illegal aliens' debate claim

Transgender New Hampshire teens can play for girls' sports teams during lawsuit, judge says

Sarah McBride is one step closer to becoming the first trans member of Congress

Greens hit with £90,000 bill after discrimination case

Graham Linehan 'subjected to discrimination in Belfast pub over gender critical beliefs'

US:

Trump says 'I hate Taylor Swift' after pop star endorses Harris

If Harris wins, she would make history. But she isn’t talking about that

A’ja Wilson becomes 1st WNBA player to reach 1,000 points in a season as Aces top Sun

WNY high school athletes, transgender advocates bring awareness to NY PROP 1

New York officials to release new renderings of possible Gilgo Beach victim

The anti-abortion activist urging followers not to support Trump

Trailblazing ballerina Michaela DePrince dies aged 29

Arkansas’ gov says Medicaid extension for new moms isn’t needed. Advisers disagree

Biden commemorates Violence Against Women Act as 'proudest' legislative win on eve of its 30th anniversary

She couldn't go to her daughter's graduation, so the hospital brought it to her

A venture capital grant program for Black women officially ends after court ruling

U.S. urges Israel to swiftly investigate killing of American woman in West Bank

Global:

Man accused of killing a Ugandan Olympian by setting her on fire, dies of burn wounds

Channel 4 will not remove alleged abuser from show

'Baby Reindeer' is facing a lawsuit — that didn't stop it from winning 6 Emmys

Kidnapped and trafficked twice - a sex worker's life in Sierra Leone

Couple accused of murdering teen to steal baby acquitted

'Lashed for a social media photo' in Iran

Olympic runner Cheptegei defied her violent ex. She lost her life anyway

Former prominent BBC news anchor gets suspended sentence for indecent images of children on phone

A union leader freed from prison vows to continue a strike against Cambodia’s’s biggest casino

Mother in Gaza longs for triplets in Jerusalem hospital

Princess Kate completes chemotherapy treatment for cancer

A Filipino preacher on the run from sexual abuse charges surrenders

Culture:

Profiles in clean energy: She founded a business to keep EV charging stations up and running

Hillary Clinton takes stock of life’s wins and losses in a memoir inspired by a Joni Mitchell lyric

Her piano concert was six years in the making. Then Puerto Rico's power went out

'I wanted to make a gay Clueless': Jamie Babbit on how her lesbian comedy But I'm a Cheerleader became a cult classic

'Criminally underrated': Why My Brilliant Friend is one of the best shows on TV

Jessica Pratt cracks open the sunny veneer of the California dream

Cooking for the most powerful person in the world

Rachel Kushner's new espionage thriller may be her coolest book yet

Want this emailed to you instead? Subscribe here.

As always, this is global and domestic news from a US perspective covering feminist issues and women in the news more generally. As of right now, I do not cover Women’s Sports. Published each Monday afternoon. 

I am looking for better sources on women’s arts and culture outside of the English-speaking world, if you know of any-please be in touch.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Pan Says... (9/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: Check it out, y'all! Another update from me! Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six  / Part Seven / Part Eight

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism / voyeurism. role play.

Part Nine

“I don’t know who you are, or what sort of game you’re playing at, but this isn’t funny!”

Emma glanced at the monitor overhead, the timer quickly counting down the minutes she had left to try and convince David that she was really Emma, that she was alive, and in need of his help.

“David Robert Nolan, shut the fuck up and listen to me!” she yelled over the receiver.

“What did you just call me?”

“I called you by your full government name,” she said. “David Robert, after your father, Nolan. Or would you prefer I call you Charming like Mary Margaret does?”

“How do you know--”

“Because it’s me, David! It’s Emma! I’m alive and I need your help!”

“Emma?” he questioned over the line, the hope she knew he wasn’t sure he should dare to feel leaking into his tone. “Is it really you? How? Where are you? Where have you been? Who did they pull out of the--”

“Just listen, okay?” she interrupted as the time rapidly dwindled. “I don’t know who that woman was or how he faked my death, but I was abducted three weeks ago by someone who calls himself Pan. I was taken from outside the police station after dropping off a skip. I was tasered. I’m here with a man named Captain Killian Jones. He has a brother named Liam, who also was led to believe that Killian was missing for reasons other than kidnapping. I need you to find him. He’ll be trying to get a hold of you, because Killian just called him, too, and let him know what’s been going on.”

She flicked her gaze to Killian, still looking shell-shocked from the emotionally charged conversation he’d had with his brother. He’d wanted to stay by her side whilst she made her call, but she’d told him to go sit and take a moment. They’d be there for one another later. It was why they’d chosen to wait and make these calls before turning in for the night. So they could just lay in bed and hold each other in the aftermath.

“What has been going on?” David demanded, bringing Emma’s focus back to her brother. “Why would this Pan person take you? What has he… are you alright? Has he hurt you? Did you escape, is that why you’re calling now? Do I need to come get--”

“No, we haven’t escaped. We… we sort of… earned a reward. Look. It’s too much to explain right now. I’m going to give you some specs of the place we’re being held in. Write them down so you can give them to the police.”

Emma waited as David searched for a pen and paper, her heart thudding wildly in her chest as the timer continued to draw closer to zero.

“Okay. Go.”

Emma rattled off the information Killian had put together for them; the estimated size of the facility, features he’d been able to make out that might make the building distinguishable, and details about the different rooms (though she hadn’t told Killian about the medical suite she’d been in, and hated that she couldn’t tell him or David about the doctor, for fear of Pan’s threat against Killian’s pound of flesh) that might aid in their search. She also mentioned that there were others here, so perhaps they could find a link between their missing person cases and others with similar details.

“Got it,” David said. “What… what else can I do?”

“Nothing,” she said, her throat tightening and tears welling in her eyes. The carefully constructed fortifications she’d put in place in order to get through the call were crumbling fast, but she couldn’t fall to pieces just yet. “Just… Just know that I’m alive and that Killian and I need you to get the police looking for us again. And…”

“And?”

10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5…

“And that I love you! I love you both!”

0… dial tone.

The receiver slipped from her hand and clattered against the concrete floor. She was pretty sure Killian returned it to the base before sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he crawled onto the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms. With the last of her strength, Emma pressed closer to him, molding their chests together and tucking her head beneath his chin. Long, quiet minutes stretched out with only their unified heartbeats filling the void, neither of them capable of saying much of anything until Killian broke the silence.

“He sounded destroyed,” he murmured, his tone flat and watery from the tears he’d shed after hanging up with his brother, and again as he’d held Emma while she spent hers into the front of his shirt. “Your brother sounded as though he’d been given a noble quest, while mine…”

“You told him not to beat himself up over it,” she reminded him. “To not dwell on the fact that he’d believed the lie Pan sent him from your email address.”

“Aye,” he sighed.

She knew he was running the conversation over in his mind. The way Liam had sounded ecstatic to hear from him, asking about his travels and when he thought he might return home. The way the line had gone silent after Killian had revealed the truth. The way his brother had sounded broken and utterly ashamed that he’d fallen for the trick, too eager to believe things had turned a corner for his brother, blinding him from seeing the cracks in the story that might have caused him to be suspicious enough to follow up.

Killian had spent most of the call comforting his brother and apologizing for the things he’d said when last they spoke, breaking open old wounds they had not the time to properly dress so they might begin to heal. Their time had gone so fast. He’d barely been able to convey the necessary details to him so that further action could be taken beyond the call before time ran out. She wasn’t even sure Liam had heard Killian tell him he loved him before the line had gone dead.

While her call to David had played out almost exactly as she thought it would, she knew Killian’s had not gone the way he’d wanted it to.

“At least they know now,” she said. “The truth is out there, and they’ll be looking for us again. That’s something at least.”

“Aye,” he agreed, though a bit hollowly. “That’s better than the alternative.”

“Hey,” she said, pulling back and lifting her gaze. When he didn’t meet hers right away she reached up and scratched her fingers through the stubble at his jawline. A huff left his chest and his eyes fell to hers.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to really clear the air with him. I know there were things you had to leave unsaid in order to get our message out, but…” She swallowed hard, willing back the fresh sob working its way up her throat. “Please don’t give up hope.” His eyes softened at the sound of her words catching and he buried his hand in the back of her hair. “I need you to help me stay optimistic here. I need you to tell me that we’ll still be able to tell them everything we didn’t get a chance to say to them today, because they’ll find us and we can say those words to their faces. Okay?”

“Emma, I…”

She could see his heart breaking in his expression and she chastised herself for guilt-tripping him, but… she meant what she said. She needed him to be strong with her right now.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, holding her close to his chest once more. “Of course we’ll get that chance. We’ll have an entire lifetime to say all the things that need to be said. They’ll find us. Of that I’m certain. They’ll never stop fighting for us. And neither will I.”

“Good.”

~/~

Emma twisted and turned her torso in an attempt to find comfort, something that seemed to be an impossibility in the damned corset Pan had provided.

A corset that accompanied the wench costume she was expected to wear for tonight’s festivities. Festivities that made her stomach roll, or would have if the blasted corset hadn’t been cinched so tightly.

After a fitful night’s sleep and late morning meal, she and Killian had been escorted to different areas so they could prepare themselves as the evening’s entertainment. Per usual, her anxiety spiked when it became clear they were to be separated, and the spa-like environment where she would spend the day being pampered and prepped did little to calm her nerves.

The host of ladies who assisted in the waxing, facial, manicure, pedicure, massage, hair, and make-up services wore masks to obscure their identities and spoke in a language Emma could not identify. Although she attempted to question them individually, they either did not understand her, or had been instructed to pretend as such. The latter seemed more plausible given the furtive glances the ladies occasionally made towards the Lost One standing guard.

After a light meal, Emma was dressed in the wench costume; a more upscale version of the cheap, slutty knock-off one might find at a Halloween store. The women were dismissed and she’d been instructed to follow the Lost One, her trepidations spiking again as she padded down the corridor behind him. There were many twists and turns before they finally rounded a corner, revealing Killian standing in front of a set of double doors. Emma’s heart leapt at the sight of him and relief flooded her body.

Well, first relief, then… something else.

He was decked out in head to toe leather, his jawline manicured with an alluring amount of scruff and his eyes lined in a deep, rich kohl. His hair had been artfully tousled and his skin bronzed. Beneath the layers of black leather, he wore a smoke-like linen shirt, unbuttoned down to the v of his waistcoat, exposing a tantalizing amount of chest hair. The leather trousers were tight, but not so much as to appear painted on, leaving just a hint to the imagination of what lay beneath their laces.

“Swan?” he said, in an amused and sinfully deep tone. “See something you like, love?”

Now aware that her mouth had been hanging open, Emma closed it and swallowed hard before answering, “You look…”

“I know,” he quipped with a cheeky smirk and smugly lifted brow, earning him an eye roll before his gaze raked over her once more. “You cut quite the figure in that get up, I must say.”

“Cutting is right,” Emma groused, struggling against the tight confines of her outfit. “I can only imagine the impression this corset is leaving on my spleen.”

“Your discomfort is a cross I am more than willing to bear… especially after my earlier one.”

Emma raised her brows in response to his cryptic words and put-out tone.

Scratching behind his ear, the tip of which was becoming quite red, he confessed under his breath in a low mumble, “I’ve been manscaped.”

Her eyes widened, and although she knew better from her earlier perusal, they fell to his chest, ensuring herself that the thick blanket of hair remained untouched.

“Not there,” he said, exasperatedly. “Lower.”

Emma tucked her lips between her teeth to try and stifle her laugh. His disgruntled tone and expression were absolutely priceless, despite the circumstances.

“Well,” she said, placing her hand on his arm in commiseration. “That makes two of us.”

They shared a moment of joint amusement, until the sound of the doors opening pulled them back into reality, sobering their demeanors.

A Lost One waved them forward. This one, like the one who had stood guard over her throughout the day, was not either of the men who had been assigned to them previously. The ones who seemed to be connected to her and Killian, respectively, in some way.

With shoulders back and heads held high, they entered the theatre, hand-in-hand. The Lost One directed them to the platform and they were both caught off guard at the emptiness of the room.

“My guests will arrive in due course,” Pan’s voice echoed. “First, a few pre-performance instructions. Pan says…”

He started by pointing out the furnishings upon the platform: a leather chair, an antique writing desk, a chaise with several cushions, and a small side table with various toys, lubricants, restraints, and other items atop it, including a pair of domino masks and earbuds.

“Go ahead,” he insisted, “Pan says, each of you take a mask and an earbud. The mask will help obscure your identities and the earbud is how you’ll hear conversations and suggestions made by my guests.” After affixing their masks, they placed a bud in their ear. Pan’s voice was now, eerily, inside their heads. “You will only act on the suggestions that are accompanied by a green light that will illuminate along the back of the upper tier.”

Green light splashed against the back walls as an example before Pan continued. “Pan says you shall not speak unless instructed otherwise, and should only do so in character. I expect you to comply with the approved requests and show my guests a good time. Understood?”

“Aye,” Killian managed to utter. All Emma could do was nod, too choked with impending dread to speak.

“Good,” Pan crowed in their ear. “Pan says, get into character and have a good show.”

Before the doors could open, Killian swung Emma around to face him and pressed their foreheads together. “You and me,” he whispered, so low she barely heard him. “Just you and me, love.”

Emma closed her eyes and nodded, her forehead rubbing against his as she inhaled deeply. Opening her eyes, she connected her gaze with his, both of them silently giving the other permission to get into character and play out the charade: him, a fearsome pirate captain and her, his defiant wench captive.

Their audience finally filed in, initially paying them little attention, while greeting one another as they took their seats behind their screens. Emma took a seat of her own in the leather chair at the center of the platform as Killian casually leaned against the front of the desk with his arms and ankles crossed. It wasn’t until the stage began to spin, allowing all of the guests an opportunity to see the show from every vantage point, that the audience really took notice of them.

It was unnerving to hear their actual voices, and the comments being made as they assessed tonight’s entertainment. Emma kept her eyes squarely focused on Killian’s, attempting to block it all out, and had therefore almost missed the way his bejeweled finger was drumming against his arm, tapping out a rhythm against the leather.

You and me. You and me. You and me.

A greeting of welcome sounded out from the speakers and Pan took a moment to remind his guests to don their own earbuds and microphones, as well as set the stage for that evening’s entertainment.

As soon as the greenlight - literally - was given, a cacophony of voices flooded Emma’s ear as each of the guests threw out suggestions. Her stomach turned and tremors of dread rippled down her spine at the thought of what they would make her and Killian do, of the intimacies they’d witness, of the images they’d take away with them.

Reaching up, Emma adjusted her mask, assuring it was firmly in place. Closing her eyes, she tried to drown out the voices so she could collect herself. She wasn’t Emma Swan right now. She was a wench. A wench being held by a fearsome pirate captain. They weren’t seeing Emma. They wouldn’t be able to take anything from Emma Swan. All they would get from her tonight was a wench. A character. A fantasy. Nothing more.

The sharp tip of cold metal digging into the underside of her chin jolted her back to the here and now. Her eyes snapped open and Killian - no. Not Killian. The pirate captain - was standing before her with a dagger held to her throat. The room was flooded with green light, and Emma realized the first command had been issued. Swallowing against the pressure of the blade, Emma wet her lips, set her features, then lifted her chin in defiance.

“Seems she needs some convincing,” a guest said in her earbud. “I say we give the Captain free rein to order his wench about. Agreed?”

Others murmured their agreement and the green light illuminated once more. A wide, sinister smile lifted the corners of her Captain's lips and he twisted the dagger so the flat part of the blade rested beneath her chin.

“On your feet, wench,” he commanded, the blade prompting her to stand as he applied subtle pressure upward.

With a predatory gaze he followed the tip of the blade as it dragged across her skin, over the swell of each breast before dipping into the valley between. A shiver of desire coursed through her causing his lust-filled, darkened depths to flick up and meet her own.

He slipped the dagger beneath the laces of her corset and with several firm tugs cut her free from the restrictive garment. A relieved and rapturous exhale left her lungs, her breasts heaving from the joyous release.

“My, my,” Killian purred in his Captain’s voice. “Aren’t you a sightly bit of plunder.”

The tip of the dagger continued to tease and taunt her breasts, the tip swirling around and over each nipple until they were painfully erect and clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blouse. A few more tugs, slashes, and artfully placed cuts left her top in tatters, her breasts fully exposed to their audience and her pirate captor’s eyes. Eyes she chose to remain focused on as more suggestions were bandied about among the crowd.

A new suggestion was green lit, and the Captain stepped forward, closing what little space there had been between them. Trading their positions on the platform, he then pressed down on her shoulders and ordered, “On your knees for the Captain, wench.”

Emma lowered herself in front of him, a defiant, in-character, glare staring up at the smirk he gave her.

Sinking into the chair she had occupied a moment ago, he leaned back and crooked his finger at her. As she shuffled forward on her knees, his gaze hungrily taking her in, he commanded in a low and sultry tone, “Make good use of those hands and undo me laces.”

Her core clenched and she tried to remain in character as she reached up and loosened the laces of his leather trousers as though it were the last thing she wished to do.

“Good girl,” he praised. Slipping his hand into his trousers he pulled out his cock, not quite fully engorged yet, and began stroking it in her face.

“Now then.” She flinched when he tapped her lips with the head of his cock, hard. Taken aback momentarily by the action because she’d been distracted by her earbud, trying to decipher what the crowd was telling them to do next… not that it was a big leap. Reaching down he placed his thumb against her chin and applied a bit of downward force as he told her, “Open that whore’s mouth of yours and take my cock, wench. Let’s see how deft you are at shivering me timber.”

Her eyes watered and she choked against the assault of his member being forcibly shoved down her throat. Flicking her gaze upward, she saw the concern and apology in his eyes before he shut them tight and let his head fall back, an expression of arrogant dominance and self-satisfaction gloating from his features.

The laughter and jeers of the crowd filled her ears, as did the vulgar chant of suck his dick, applied in a rhythm that her Captain made her keep pace with from where he had her hair gripped in his hand at the back of her head.

“That’s it, love,” he praised, tapping out another rhythm behind her ear with his finger as she bobbed against his length. You and me, you and me, you and me.

She’d almost managed to tune out the mob when a woman’s voice grated in her ear.

“Well, hello there, sailor.”

Looking up, Emma saw a woman, decked out ostentatiously in hues of green, arriving late and making her way down the steps. In her hand was the microphone attached to the ear piece she wore. She paused, giving Killian a once over before slinking behind her screen and taking her seat.

Before she disappeared behind the thin veil of fabric, Emma recognized her by the mask she wore. It was the woman who had paused by the two-way mirror the night before to check her flaming red tresses.

“Do us a favor and flick those kohl-lined eyes this way,” she cat-called into her microphone.

The green light signaled from above and another light shone down over her screen. Emma stared up Killian’s body to look at his face and saw the muscle in his jaw clench and spasm before he flicked his eyes away from her and towards the screen, then held his gaze there as the platform continued to turn.

“Mmmm,” the woman hummed provocatively. “Yes, I think I’m going to enjoy tonight’s entertainment very much indeed.”

When the platform circled round again, Emma glanced over at the woman’s screen and could see the silhouette of her reclined back with her legs splayed wide, clearly pleasuring herself under the Captain’s gaze. A jolt of jealous anger ignited down Emma’s spine. Relaxing her jaw, she let Killian slip further down her throat until she could brush the tip of her nose against his torso. A cursing moan slipped over his lips and his hips bucked from the unexpected action.

“Nice!” a guest praised. “Make her take all of it, Captain!”

“No, you fool,” another guest chastised. “We don’t want him blowing his load too soon. Not when the wench has other holes for him to use.”

“I wanna see the wench take control. Let her have the reins for a bit.”

“Maybe next time,” someone countered. “I’m enjoying this too much.”

Next time!? Emma responded internally in a near panic. What the hell do they mean, next time?

“I think her breasts need some attention, too,” another chimed in. “Look how those nipples are just begging for attention.”

“I wanna see her cunny. I bet it is just dripping. Would love to see our Captain’s face glistening from her juices, wouldn’t you?”

All during their debate Emma continued to work her Captain over. She delighted in the way his chest hitched and heaved, the way the chords of his neck tightened, the rosy blush that developed high on his cheeks, the micro spasms twitching through his torso and down his legs, and the sounds… dear god, the sounds this man made.

Green flashed again and Emma was astounded at the way Killian managed to keep track of what was expected of them, given the distraction she’d been providing. Pulling himself from her mouth with a pained sounding grunt, he hauled her onto her feet then shoved her back onto the nearby chaise. She’d barely registered what was happening when he lifted her skirts up over her legs and grabbed her hips, pulling her body towards the edge of the cushion and lining her sex up with his eager mouth.

The exquisite torment lasted for what felt like hours. Time and again he brought her to the brink with his tongue, teeth, and hands, deftly assaulting her clit as he probed, scissored, and thrust his fingers into her holes. When his mouth tired he switched to one of the many toys, holding her on edge until tears streamed down her face and pathetic whimpers escaped her lips. Her back ached from the repeated arch his actions provoked and her legs quivered uncontrollably. A few times, he gave her cunt a rest, turning his attention to her breasts and laving them with his tongue while his slick-coated fingers rolled her nipples into taut peaks that he then sucked clean with his mouth.

The sound of their joint moans were echoed by those from the crowd. A symphony of zippers being undone, fabric being moved, skin being slapped, and groans being uttered filled her ears, making the torture all the more erotic. When she was finally given leave to speak, it was only so she could beg. Beg for mercy. Beg for release. Beg for him to fuck her.

And beg she did.

“Please, Captain,” she whimpered, choking on a sob that had caught in her throat from the fresh assault he was applying to her clit.

“Please what, wench?” he commanded in a strained gruff. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please let me come,” she pleaded. “Please, please, plea--!”

She didn’t get the third please out before a scream tore past her lips, her body convulsing from the pleasure the vibrating toy at her clit was finally granting her. Wave after wave of release crashed over her until she was so spent she wasn’t certain she hadn’t blacked out. The next thing she knew, she was being hoisted off the chaise and bent over the desk, facing out towards the crowd.

The Captain’s body molded against her back, his breath hot against her ear as he growled, “I’d find something to hold on to if I were you, wench. Because I’m gonna fuck you hard. I’m gonna fuck you deep.”

Emma barely had time to latch on to the corners of the desk when the entire thing tipped forward from the force of his entering thrust. Relentlessly, he pounded into her, egged on by the jeers, cheers, and taunts of the crowd.

“Keep your eyes open, wench,” a voice demanded from the masses. “We wanna see you watching us take pleasure in your degradation.”

The green light commanded that she do just that, the silhouettes from behind the thinly veiled screens leaving little to the imagination of how much the audience was enjoying the show.

“She can keep her eyes on the lot of you,” the irritating woman’s voice said. “I want the Captain’s eyes back on me.” When the green light agreed, Emma could practically hear the woman’s gloating expression in her words. “Cast those come fuck me eyes this way, Captain.”

He must have complied, prompting her to purr, “Oooo, you are a wicked one, aren’t you. Would you like to have your wicked way with me? Tell me all the wicked things you’d like to do to me.”

With effort, given the pounding he was giving her, Emma managed to look back over her shoulder in time to see him flash the woman a wide, yet sinister smile before grunting, “I’d like to shove a gag in your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”

Applause rang out, as did a round of laughter, and Killian turned his attention back to Emma and the brutal pace he was setting.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he panted on a half groan. “So wet and so tight.”

“That’s it, Captain,” the crowd encouraged over the barrage of their own moans and sounds of satisfaction. “Take her. Use her. Breed her.”

“Yes!” someone cried out. “Breed her! Fill her for us, Captain. I wanna see your cum leak out of her afterward.”

The Captain roared from his release moments later, his fingers digging into her sides to the point of bruising as his hips moved erratically against her ass. Once every last drop had been coaxed from him, he collapsed and fell forward, sprawling across her back as his chest fought for each breath. Around them the sounds and smells of others reaching their own climax filled the air, then for a brief yet glorious moment, things went quiet.

One final swath of green filled her vision, and Killian murmured into her ear, “Stay there, love. One last task, I’m afraid.”

He removed himself from her and she immediately felt the warmth of his release slip from her depths and trickle down her thighs. He gave her ass a quick, firm slap, then spread her cheeks, allowing everyone to see the proof of his conquest as the platform turned one last time.

When the platform came to a stop, a curtain dropped, surrounding the stage and separating them from the audience's view. Killian assisted Emma off the desk and swept her up into his arms before taking them over to the chaise where he could sit and cradle her in his lap. They held each other as their skin cooled, their heartbeats regulated, and their breathing calmed.

“You were wonderful, Swan,” he praised, his fingers gliding across her back and down her side. “I’m so proud of you, love.”

“You, too,” she murmured against his chest, barely able to keep her eyes open, the exhaustion created from both their exertions and the stress of the situation starting to take hold.

“Here. Have her put this on.” A voice caused them both to jump and Emma’s head snapped to where a Lost One stood a few feet away with a robe offered in his outstretched hand.

Killian took it from him and draped it around her shoulders, then helped her to stand so she could secure it around herself.

“Follow me,” the Lost One commanded, setting off towards the door they had entered hours before.

“Are you okay to walk?” Killian asked, his tone full of concern and laced with guilt.

“I’m good,” she assured him. Tucking herself into his side, she added, “But I might need to lean on you a bit.”

“Lean on me all you need,” he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “But I don’t mind carrying you.” She flicked her eyes up at him and smiled when his Captain’s persona took hold once more. A surprised yelp squeaked past her lips when he bent down and swept her feet out from under her. Straightening, he adjusted her weight in his arms and cheeked, “I’ve carried rum barrels heavier than the likes of you, wench. So, I’ll have no argument.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

~/~

Killian gazed up at the ceiling, his arm wrapped around Emma as she lay curled into his side, the smell of her floral shampoo and conditioner tickling his sinuses. After they’d finished entertaining Pan’s guests, the Lost One had led them to the showers so they could clean up. They’d both been almost too spent and exhausted to wash, much less talk, and little had been said on the way back to their room, while dressing, or even after they’d crawled into bed.

While Emma had drifted off within moments of her head hitting the pillow, Killian had been unable to do so. Too many thoughts were competing in his mind. Thoughts of Emma playing her part as the defiant wench, the memory of her on her knees, splayed out on the chaise, and bent over the desk threatening to make him hard again. Thoughts of the crowd and how he hadn’t expected the proprietary feelings of satisfaction that had coursed through him as he took his wench in their full view, claiming her for his own. Thoughts of what those actions would mean for them now, knowing he had finished inside her without protection. Thoughts of everything the two of them had been through since they had awoken, naked, in bed together all those weeks ago, and… thoughts of what Pan might have in store for them next.

It was these thoughts that were keeping him awake the most.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Emma said groggily, her fingers twirling through the hair on his chest as she sleepily looked up at him.

Furtively, he glanced down at her then back up, unwilling to voice his thoughts to her just yet. Despite everything they’d been through, she seemed so content. In this moment she was safe and happy and hopeful.

He did not wish to deprive her of that.

“Hey,” she said, concern coloring her tone. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and pulled his face back down, forcing him to look at her. “Tell me. What’s eating you up?” Propping herself up on her elbow, her brows pulled together and a slightly panicked expression crossed her face. “Please tell me you’re not beating yourself up about tonight. You know I would never hold any of that against you, right?”

“Aye, I know,” he responded quickly, not wishing for her to believe for a moment that his trepidations had anything to do with her. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I just… I wonder whether we,” he paused, taking a moment to swallow and fortify his resolve before confessing, “Whether we made the right decision.”

Confusion rooted deeper in her expression. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you… don’t you wonder why he let us call them?” he said, his fingers gently stroking her arm as a way to ground himself and hopefully keep her feeling connected to him as he attempted to voice his concerns. “Why he made it seem like agreeing to do what we did was the only choice we could make?”

“It was the only choice,” Emma countered emphatically. “Being separated from one another isn’t an option I--”

“But that’s just it,” he argued. “Maybe that’s the choice we should have made.”

Emma pulled back as though he’d just slapped her, and his heart broke at the vulnerability and hurt he saw displayed upon her face and in the tremor of her next words. “Are you… Have I done something to make you not want to…”

Sitting up, he took her face in his hands, leveled his gaze with hers, and assured her, “No. No, please don’t misunderstand me. Being separated from you is the last thing I would ever wish for. I just think that…”

Emma reached up and took his hands into her own, cradling them in her lap as she spoke. “Alright. Talk me through what you’re thinking, then. Why do you think it was a mistake to agree with his demands and stay together?”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he drew in a deep breath, not wishing to voice his concerns for fear of making them real. He’d rather them both be prepared for the possibility, though. Everything they’d faced, they’d faced together. Choosing together. He didn’t want this to be any different.

“Each round of Pan’s demented game has escalated things between us,” he began. “First, it was stripping away our vulnerability. Forcing us to reveal things about ourselves that we would never normally reveal.”

Emma nodded and squeezed his hands. “Go on.”

Wetting his lips, he continued. “The second round was all about taking advantage of our attraction towards each other and getting us comfortable with sharing physical intimacy. This third round challenged and exploited the lines of physical intimacy we were willing to explore with one another.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Each round has ratched up the stakes of our experience here, making us more and more compliant.”

“And each round’s rewards and penalties have reflected that.” He held her gaze with an intensity he hoped would lead her into understanding where he was going without him having to say it explicitly.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite getting it.

“I still don’t understand why you think it might have been best if we’d chosen to be separated.”

“What if the next escalation, or the one after that, is…” He swallowed past the bile working its way up his throat, “...actual harm to each other. Violence.”

Emma balked and her mouth dropped open with a gasp. Clearly, such a thought had not occurred to her until now.

“What if Pan makes us hurt each other? What then?” he continued on, pulling her into his arms and whispering the rest into her hair in a tone of apology. “Maybe he tricked us into staying together? Maybe we would be better off separated, because… Now we have to face what it would mean to have hurt someone we… how are we supposed to respond when faced with the command to injure the other? What would you have me do if Pan orders me to…”

Thoughts of the unthinkable made it impossible for him to continue, but after a few moments Emma pulled back and ran her fingers down the side of his face.

“We’ve already made our choice to stay together. There’s no point in wondering whether or not it was the right one.”

Killian nuzzled his face into her hand then turned his head to place a kiss on her palm.

“Besides,” she said, his tough lass straightening her shoulders and setting her resolve. “If Pan commands that one of us is to be harmed, then the harm will happen regardless.”

Killian cocked his head to one side, not completely sure what she meant by that statement.

Fortunately, she clarified, saying, “Either one of us will administer the injury, or he’ll have one of his Lost Ones do it. Either way… the injury will occur. There’s nothing either of us can do to stop it from happening.”

“Aye. You’re right,” Killian replied. “I suppose the thing we must ask ourselves is whether we can endure the guilt, and every other emotion that might come with it, should we be the one to inflict such pain on the other.”

Several silent beats of his heart went by before she softly, yet hesitantly asked, “Could you?”

Killian took another beat to truly consider the question. The question he’d been considering for most of the night. If Pan commanded it, could he hurt the woman he loved?

“No,” he stated definitively. “It’s one thing to administer a spanking to you, and quite another to…” He balled his hand into a fist and stared down at it, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully. “The thought of putting my fist to you… I can’t. I won’t.” Gazing back up at her, he added, “And I won’t fault you for having a Lost One mete out Pan’s orders on me either. Especially if it will save you from having to carry that guilt, love.”

Emma nodded her understanding and acceptance, then prompted him to lie back down beside her. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she whispered softly, though there was very little hope in her tone.

“Aye, love. Let’s hope so.”

Part Ten