#“go out of their way” they came home tired one time and david was grumpy about not being updated of their location

[brainrotcharacters]

😗

i find it funny when people say angel “fixed” david.

cuz when i relisten, i don’t think angel went out of their way thinking they could make him less of an asshole, that man is just down horrendous

they turned him into a smitten guard dog. he still has his edge, he just also would fall over himself for his spouse

it’s almost more like

���i hate everyone but u”

[missmarveledsblog]

Hand on heart (Jake Seresin x Singlemom!reader)

chapter one

summary : coming to new place is scary , but the adventures along the way might not be right ?

warnings : none not really mainly fluffy fluff

also pic i made doesnt respresent reader description i just needed it for the photo i will try keep reader free for all but she is f.a.b

Battles in life can either motivate or terrify a person , the course of life shifts abruptly from one course to another in a split second . Waking up to a note a couple month before birth well it shifted one battle to a whole new one . From thinking it was all perfect to wondering what she was blinded to , while now she was facing a new battle, one that may have been the most challenging yet .

A lengthy road trip to a new life and a toddler wasn’t what she would have pictured, not in the slightest . But it was a job that paid well and provided daycare , a contract with in her reason and time difficulties she’d be stupid not to take it . She was even able to find a nice home for a reasonable price , maybe it was scary , it was all new and frankly she was terrified of messing up but shit her grandmother didn’t raise her to run from a challenge but to face it head on ,she would be david conquering goliath .

The moment she pulled into her new driveway exhaling as she knew the challenge of trying to move a sleeping toddler was about as careful and stealthy as moving a bomb. Belle was out cold , tired of staying awake in the confines of the dreaded car seat. Slowly getting out the car walking up the driveway heading to the new how opening the door , putting the sleeping toddler on the sofa as she set up the travel cot before then transferring . a quiet celebration of her success as she began getting to work , unpacking the boxes in the kitchen . time was of the essence knowing she couldn’t really well slack off , rest and relaxing could happen once it was all finished. House and belle came first and then she could worry about herself that was for sure. Doing it all alone would always be a scary concept something she made her peace with when she was standing on her grandmothers porch at the age of twenty one with a big bump thinking back it was ridiculous getting married , she graduated early and started college a little earlier , even while she was pregnant. What helped most was the scholarships and the help from her grandmother now twenty four she was doing the best of what she could.

Belle graciously slept for an hour upon arrival and confused whines walking up in the new environment that told her the toddler needed her attention more than the unpacking did . she at least got some of the baby’s room done and beds for both of them to sleep in that night.

“ hey pretty girl , look where we are “ she cooed lifting her up as the little fist rubbed the sleep from her eyes . “ you hungry ?” only for a whine to fall from the toddlers lips .

“fries “ she cried out .

“ fries it is “ she chuckled bringing her to change her diaper first as the toddler still out of sorts and hungry was looking for her fries . “ ok ok grumpy butt lets go get you fed “ she chuckled as they headed out the car handing the toddler a cracker to hold her over and well so she could concentrate on the road. Til she seen the fast food chain of restaurants and slightly praying it wasn’t too crazy inside. She noticed a group in the far corner was about it but other than that the place was completely empty , void of any others which probably most perfect outcome . standing she barely kept her attention on anyone bar the pint sized human holding her hand and the menu . not knowing that the new life she was starting was going to clash with the old one . turning she took other side not wanting to let the toddler disturb the group and yet their uniforms looked familiar .

Two weeks previous :

“ glad to finally have you on board mrs l/n “ captain pete mitchell smiled showing her around the base .

“ you guys seem persistent to have me on your team “ she laughed nervously never really considering working for the navy hell she never knew they had aviation she was sure it was all sea base.

“ You're the best of the best i’d take it as a compliment , you're a mother too I hear ?” He smiled brightly .

“ a freshly turned two year old little girl named Belle who would totally be so jealous now “ she chuckled. “ she is going through a flying phase. My best friend took her to see an airshow and she's been obsessed since,” she explained.

“ please bring her to visit and your husband or partner too “ he lead her into the empty hanger.

“ oh its just me on my own “ she winced ready for the sympathy pity or judgy looks .

“ Well then bring yourself and the little future aviator ” he patted her shoulder as he began to show her around , showing her where everything was held the tools and parts , order sheets and inventory . She never was so excited to start working; it was always her dream to work in aeronautical engineering . She was always into the ways of flying machines from commercial to well fighter jets such as the ones she would be working with . life was never anyway easy , her mom was in and out of rehab all her life before completely up and leaving altogether , her dad well wasn’t much better either, only the man left before she could walk to do what he wanted . one woman she could always count on was her grandmother and two big brothers , no matter what the woman held her up only she died six months which was why she was moving now . how much she helped with everything from the pregnancy and even when she returned home after she woke up alone . As they talked, she could see the group passing by into the hanger, those uniforms of the khaki color all laughing and joking, and she and Pete headed down to finish the final bits of paperwork .

Present:

“Oh i think mama will be working with them “ she cooed as belle was more concerned with the tray of food than the words of her mother .

“ hey y/n is that you ?” a voice called only for her to see her future boss walking toward her .

“ hey captain mitchell how are ya “ she smiled brightly .

“ please even in the hanger it just pete .. this must be the future aviator belle” he smiled only .

“ she is beautiful little girl “ a man spoke only to see couple people standing with her new boss .

“ dagger squad this is the new aeronautical engineer that starting next week mrs y/n and this is here is going to be a future aviator miss belle who i hope will come visit the hanger soon “ he chuckled as the two year old cooed up at him .

“ nice to meet you both ma’am name phoenix call me nat this is bob and fanboy and the one who looks like his ovaries are about to explode is rooster “ she chuckled .

“ he’s worst then a woman with babies “ fanboy snorted .

“ how can i not be look at her little hands that french fry is bigger than it “ rooster chuckled.

“ belle you wanna say hi “she asked softly.

“ hiya “ she shyly said almost hiding her face as she did so .

“ i want one “ the man sighed .

“Ok moving on from that welcome to san diego “ nat smiled shooting her friend weird look .

“ would y’all like to join us looks like it getting busy in here” she looked around as the table began filling .

“ we’d love to , i’ll sit with you while they get the food would you like anything ? belle ?” phoenix asked.

“ frieesss “ the toddler smiled happily .

“ coming up ma’am ?” rooster stood .

“ it’s y/n please less of the ma’am and i’m fine let me give you money for her fries” she went to grab her bag only for them to walk off .

“ it’s on us “ he called back .

“ so good another female is working in the hangar honestly thank you “ nat chuckled .

“ i mean it’s same with my field it mainly men i barely worked with a handful of women “ she snorted.

“ well we heard you made cyclone sweat so your already a big league “ .

“ i think cause i’m younger some don’t take me serious and being female i’m sure you know “y/n explained handing belle her bottle.

“ yeah did you start college at twelve “ nat joked .

“ well not that early actually i was just gone sixteen “ she snorted .

“ wait so your like one of those genius kids that cool and belle i’m sure is following “ nat cooed at the baby.

“ she is very clever for her age just hope she settles well this is so different from texas “ .

“ i’m sure she will love it here”

“ its all new but i mean all new things are scary kinda glad i bumped into y’all make it slighty easier” she smiled weakly .

“ oh its not too bad i mean they can be bone heads but their sweethearts .. don’t tell them i said that though “ nat winked .

“ well i look forward to looking forward to working with you all i am excited i’ve worked on jets before but commercial ones and some classified but i can’t talk about those” she wiped belles face easily following along with the conversation .

“ well we could use your hands i mean last guy was so old he was starting to get sort of sloppy and the replacement is going for deployment so i think that’s why they’re doing the whole civilian contract sort of thing “ nat shrugged as the guys came back to the table rooster blowing the fries before hovering them over the tray looking at y/n who just nodded as he dunk them on the tray making belle giggle and laugh.

“ so what made you get into engineering ?” fanboy asked slight shoving rooster out of the way to sit next to her.

“ oh my grandpa he was actually in the navy but he used to tell me all about the mechanics of things and i fell in love with it all ,he worked on ships and shipping containers though different side but like belle i was taking to a air show and well fell in love “ she animatedly talked away as they listened and after while rooster and belle were having their own conversation til she was heading out the door with the tired toddler with their numbers in her phone so they could meet up sometime before she started .

“ hot and smart” rooster said easily as they walked into the hard deck .

“ way out of your league way too smart to even fall for any of your dumb asses “ nat snorted .

“ i mean i don’t swing that way and they're not that bad but thanks for the compliment “ the blonde drawled .

“ her accent is way better than that too “ rooster sighed sitting down .

“ wasn’t talk about you seresin i was talking about our new engineer we met her when we went to get food “ nat smirked .

“ wow how hot we talking “ javy no longer interested in the game .

“ very she bit young though i think she twenty something and the cutest little girl ever” nat smiled brightly.

“ oh kid yeah i’m out “ jake snorted .

“ hey belle is the cutest two year old i’ve ever seen “ rooster defended .

“ how many two year olds do you know chicken ?” jake smirked .

“ not many but she is the coolest “

“ roosters ovulating aside he isn’t wrong , a sentence i never thought i would say “ nat gasped jokingly.

“ wanna say it again so i can record it “ he winked.

“ nope anyways she starts next week once little belle is settled in daycare so none of you jackasses scare her off “ nat warned them all .

“ for once you don’t need to worry about me moms are too messy “ jake shrugged heading off to the bar .

next chapter

[pebblewritesj]

THREE - Skin and Bones

Chapter three of my Wattpad story, Look at Yourself, Bowie! If you want to read more the rest is on Wattpad under the user Jaomixi, forty chapters have been released so far!

--- Mari woke up around 10:00 a.m that morning, forgetting completely where she promised to be later that afternoon until she got a call from John about an hour later.

"I'll pick you up around 8:30." He said, leaning back on his sofa. Yoko was just getting up, fixing herself a pot of coffee.

She paused, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "What for?" she asked.

"The party, Christ," His speech ran into a slight mumble as his face strayed from the telephone for a moment, "Losing your head."

"Right! The party. If I told you I was too sick to go, would you believe me?"

"Ah, don't play that shite, I know you too well to-"

"Oh, I was only joking," she smiled, crossing her legs as she reclined on her seat.

John gave a sarcastic laugh, "Ha-ha, you're very funny,-"

"What's got you all grumpy this morning, Lennon?" she asked, a small smile still on her face as she took a sip of her drink and put it back where it laid on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I ran into the press this morning on my way home from going to the shop to get a few things. I get so tired of their goddamn questions! 'John! John! When's the Beatle reunion?' 'John, What came first, the chicken or the egg?'"

His last words grew quiet as he strayed away from the telephone once again, though he could still hear Mari laugh through the line. 

"I see. I didn't think the press would even recognize you anymore if you didn't have Yoko next to you, that's all they care about anymore. They hate to see a happy couple." Mari said, shifting in her seat.

"I'm just tired of it."

Mari paused for a moment, thinking of anything else she might have left to say before ending the call.

"Did you ever figure out who would be there? At the party, I mean."

John thought for a split second, gathering his thoughts and burying his frustration, "Only a few. I called Mick, said he'd be there, called Elton, said he'd be there, and then I got tired of talking over the phone so I didn't call anyone else."

Mari nodded, she'd never met Elton John, but she knew he was a very close friend of John, she also, of course, thought he was a very talented musician.

"Right, good to know. Hope I don't embarrass myself like I did last time I went to one of these."

John tilted his head, curious, "What happened the last time you went to one?"

"David Johansen of the New York Dolls came up to me and tried to start a conversation."

"What'd you say?"

"I didn't know who the hell he was!"

John laughed as Mari continued, "Literally had never in my life heard of New York Dolls, I asked him what he sang and he was like, 'oh I'm in New York Dolls', I thought he was trying to sell me something."

__

John and Mari arrived at the party at around 9:00, John still had no clue who's house they were at, he was barely even sure they were at the right one until he saw all the expensive cars lined up at the side of the house.

Mari'd had a hell of a time figuring out what she was going to wear, finally settling on a bra-like top, bell bottoms and a flowy cardigan, the clogs she decided to wore clicked with every step the two took towards the entrance of the home until they finally arrived, knocked on the door, and before John could knock again Keith Richards opened the door.

"Keith!" Mari said, grabbing the man's attention. The two moved in for a hug, as Keith moved back from the embrace he looked at the two, urging them to come inside.

As the two walked in, Mari could barely hear John ask Keith who was there-- though she saw them before she heard the names come out of his mouth. She saw record executives and producers here and there, some dancers as well, none of whose name she could remember. In the corner she saw Edie Sedgwick, Cher, Elton John, the usuals. Of course, there was every Rolling Stone, Mick Speaking with Billy Preston and a slightly dazed Bob Dylan. 

After getting over the fact she was in the same room as Bob Dylan, someone else caught her eye as he lounged on the sofa talking to the lead member of The Stooges, Iggy Pop, who sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa: David Bowie.

John had finished speaking with Keith by this time, he looked at Mari as he noticed she wasn't moving. He followed her eyes directly to the red haired men that sat on the sofa, twirling a small glass of alcohol in his hand.

"You want me to put in a word for you?" John said jokingly, stretching his arms back.

Mari broke out of her starstruck state, looking back at John. 

"What're you on about?" She said, though she knew exactly what he was on about.

"You know exactly what I'm on about."

"No I don't!" She smiled, avoiding eye-contact with the man. 

"Well you can't just stare at him, you'll scare him!" he said, beginning to walk in front of Mari so they wouldn't be right in front of the door.

She rolled her eyes, a smile still prominent on her face as she trailed behind him, "I'll talk to him later." she laughed, watching John's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yeah right," he said, scoffing while a smile still lingered on his face.

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him, sparing another glance at Bob Dylan here and there she spotted Mick Jagger walking over to where the two stood.

"John!" he said, pulling him into a hug, doing the same with Mari.

Mari couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Mick, though every time they saw each other, conversations would flow like water.

"I didn't think you liked going to things like this, eh Mari?" Mick said, drink in hand.

"I don't, thanks to some of you lot," She smiled, nodding towards Mick as they both began to laugh.

"Where the hell are you people getting your drinks? I can't see through the crowd!" Mari asked, dying for a drink. Mick looked back, the turned around.

"Ah, just come with me."

She nodded, following behind him, God knew where John managed to run off to by then. Finally, Mick successfully led her to a table full of different drinks, even water, which she was hardly expecting. She wouldn't drink too harshly, she didn't want to get drunk and embarrass herself-- but that didn't mean she wouldn't drink.

She grew indecisive, looking at all the bottles laid out on the table. She finally just grabbed a beer and moved on. She turned around to see Mick saying something to Bob Dylan. Realizing Mari finally picked a drink, whatever they were saying to each other came to an end as Mick turned back to face the woman and Bob grabbed another drink and began to walk away, stopping to talk to other people.

"I love Bob Dylan." she mumbled to him so the man in question wouldn't be able to hear.

"Is that so?" Mick said, leaning back on the counter behind him.

"Yeah, I had Dylan posters all over my wall back in secondary, my parents thought I was a maniac."

Mick looked back to Bob, watching as the curly-headed man spared the two once more glance as before he walked away.

"I think he heard you." Mick said, laughing as her eyes widened, "I'm only joking."

She playfully hit Mick, sighing in relief.

--

Later in the night, Mari was looking for John. She figured he'd be ready to go by then, it was about 12:00, though she did hate to leave without speaking a word to hardly anyone, other than The Rolling Stones and Cher. More people had arrived since the whole thing first started, it was so crowded, she doubted she'd ever be able to find him.

After around ten minutes of searching the whole two story house full of people, she decided she'd go to the bathroom where it wasn't as crowded.

She knocked on the door, but she wasn't able to hear if it was occupied or not. She looked towards the bottom of the door, not seeing that a light was on, so she opened the door and went in. She let out a breath of relief, seeing that it was in fact not being used. She shut the door and locked it, she didn't have to use the bathroom, even if she did she wouldn't, still not knowing whose house she was even in, but instead she checked her reflection in the mirror.

Her crimson lipstick had been smudged, the lip gloss she'd originally been wearing was long-gone, her hair was all messed up, and the eye makeup she'd worn was smudged. She looked herself up and down, cursing under her breath as she took the cardigan she was wearing into her hands. Something had ripped a small hole into it. 

She sighed, tired, when all of a sudden something heavy hit the door. She jumped, confusion and concern hitting her when she had trouble opening the door due to the weight of something holding it closed.

Once she had it opened enough to be able to look down and see what might be causing her trouble, she saw David Bowie's body against the door, presumably unconscious. She almost panicked, but quickly calmed herself down. When She finally got the door open enough to slide out of the bathroom, she examined the man. She considered walking away, stuff like that was normal at these sorts of things, until she saw that he was still awake.

She gasped, her eyes widening as she realized the situation. David looked up to her with half lidded, red, and swollen eyes-- he was trying to tell her something. She leaned down enough so she could hear him, then finally understood.

"Help me, please," he pleaded, his voice was weak and his eyes were brimming with tears, "I can't stand."

She grasped the man's arm, helping him stand up, continuing to do so as he put half of his weight onto her side as she did her best to support him. At this point, John would have to figure out she was gone, quite clearly she couldn't look for him anymore.

As she and David finally got out the house, she looked to the man hunched over on her shoulder.

"What car do you drive?" she asked him.

"Mercedes Benz..." he muttered, "it's black."

It was one of the closest ones to where they stood. 

She walked the dazed man over to the car, "Can I have the keys?"

David didn't care enough to consider the consequences of giving this woman, who he'd never spoken to, the keys to his Mercedes, nor was he even in the state of mind to realize the possible consequences.

"Left pocket." he muttered, his words slurred.

She looked down and, hesitantly and carefully, took the keys out of his jean pocket and unlocked the car doors as David finally slipped consciousness, the sudden dead weight piling on her and causing her to nearly lose hold of the man. She carefully laid him down in the back seat, closing the door to the car. 

Mari stopped suddenly, sighing as she processed the situation she found herself in. Everything happened so suddenly, along with all the things she now had to deal with for the rest of the night. John wouldn't know where she'd gone, hopefully someone saw her leave. She'd have to call the next morning to tell him what happened. 

She got in the drivers seat of the car and began to drive. She didn't know where he was staying, so she would have no other option other than for him to stay in the spare bedroom at her house. She embraced the silence throughout the ride home, the first time in hours that she was able to do so. Every now and then she would take a look at David through the rear-view mirror, after a while taking notice of his malnourished appearance, she doubted this was the first time something like this had happened, though she hated to assume something so negative.

She hated to bring him back to a place he wouldn't recognize in the morning, she couldn't imagine the stress of waking up and not knowing where you are or what you did the night before, but she had no other choice. 

Finally arriving at her home, she got David out of the car and into the spare bedroom. She wouldn't have been able to carry him at all if he wasn't so weightless. She put a blanket over him and shut the door. Sighing, she took a quick shower and went to bed, God knew what the next morning would be like, though this surely isn't anything like how she expected her day to end.

[bugmangaka]

A small batch of new designs!

Manny - (reposted) He’s one of the rookies in Noble’s guard, he’s always idolized him and always wants to be around him. He’s very excitable, but also gets jealous of those who get to spend time with Noble... Manny is straight. Definitely. No homo. maybe. (he doesn’t know it but he’s not)

Mesmiralda - A high-ranking Hachitsu who has a LOT of money and some political influence. She’s a landlord and owns various buildings and plots of land, including Marvin’s parents’ house. Her family also owns store chains and an amusement park. She’s rather laid back, but is always interested in gaining more profit. Her husband is Gerald, and her son, Laurence, was Marvin’s bully growing up and the one that cost him his college scholarship.

Cerys - Cerys is a somewhat eccentric woman that runs a matchmaking business in the Seiki Kingdom. In fact, she goes by the name “Ms. Matchmaker” when working. Cerys whole heartedly believes that there is someone out there for everyone, and that she can help you find them. She loves shades of red and pink, and owns many heart-themed decor. She is very confident in herself and her work and even sells a book she wrote on the topic. She is the one that introduced David to Lacey when Lacey came to her to find a match to help her start a family.

Ned - Ned was Lacey’s piano teacher when she was in middle school. He’s friendly and makes plenty of dad jokes.

Crow - Crow is Ned’s son! He is the only boy, having four sisters. He had a crush on Lacey and would see her during her piano lessons, but they both went to different schools.

Nora - The first of Silvanna’s maids who helped raise Dolly and her sisters. She was the one who unfortunately witnessed Silvanna attempt to kill her children shortly after their birth. Since then, Nora has been uncomfortable working in the house and just does her job while avoiding interaction. Nora also happens to be one of Niels’s oldest sisters.

Leona - The second of Silvanna’s maids who helped raise Dolly and her sisters. She does most of the cooking and is quite good at it. She snaps at the children when they get in the way of her work. Leona also dislikes Reginald and Silvanna and will often complain about them with Scarlet.

April - The third of Silvanna’s maids who helped raise Dolly and her sisters. She is pretty unamused and bored, often getting lost in thought. She feels neutral towards everyone in the house, but she’s always tired and just wants to go home.

Scarlet - The fourth of Silvanna’s maids who helped raise Dolly and her sisters. She dislikes everyone in the house, including Dolly and her sisters. She’s rather grumpy unless she’s in front of Reginald or Silvanna, then she puts on her customer service smile.

[gavinsdeviant]

Enough for You

Sorry if there are any mistakes, I’m sick. 

cw/tw- mention and confrontation of past toxic relationship, Michael being an absolute ass. 

word count- 1,018

fandom- RedactedAudio

pair- David/Angel

Angel smiles down at the screen, shaking their head. The sun shines down on them from their spot in the coffee shop as they squint to get a better look. Heaven knows how Ash had gotten a selfie with both him and Davey in it- it sure as hell wasn’t willingly, that they were sure of. 

Grumpy man <3

This little shit just sent me this. I am his fucking alpha. 

They snicker. Shifting in their seat, they smile wider. 

Their eyes take in the surroundings, and as they catch the gaze of someone sitting nearby they stop. Their heart drops. 

They knew that cocky grin anywhere- that oily smirk that made their skin crawl. 

They stare down at the ground, content on not facing him ever again. 

A few minutes pass before their name is called. They hurriedly go to get the coffees- one for them, and one for Davey. Turning towards the door to leave, they pick up the pace. 

And just when they think they’d make it out without a confrontation, a hand grabs their wrist.

“Shit.”

“I didn’t expect to see you again.” He had, seeing that they and Davey came here often as it was. 

“Good to see you, Michael,” they try to tug their hand free, to no avail. “Goodbye now,” they add a bit more forcefully. 

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t think that is any of your business.” He looks them up and down, lip curling. 

“You know, David seems like a nice guy,” he clicks his tongue. “There were stuff between us that you fucked up, and now you want to pass it along to someone else?”

They draw in a sharp breath. 

“Haven’t you done enough?” 

They finally manage to pull their hand out of his grip, heart pounding in their throat. They shove through the doors and step outside. 

“Why are you leaving? Haven’t you done enough of that?” They swing around to face him, breathless. 

They didn’t want to yell at him- didn’t want to tell him about all the things that had driven them away. He wasn’t worth that. 

They spin on their heel to leave. 

“Oh, by the way, did you cancel the gym membership? I would ask you to pay for it, but it doesn’t look like you’ve been going.” They blink past the tears, frustrating at themselves for making him let them feel this way. 

They keep walking, ignoring his shouts from behind them. 

“Hey Angel,” they nearly drop the coffees they’d forgotten they’d been holding.  “Hey,” they say immediately, enveloped by his voice. It was safe- one constant in their life. 

He wraps an arm around their waist and his chest rumbles beneath their hands. “Get lost,” he growls. 

He’d seen everything, they were sure of it. And Michael was standing right there. 

He tightens his arms around them and lets them bury their face in his shirt.

“Let’s go home.”

                                                             ***

David has started getting worried over the course of his three days back. Something wasn’t right with Angel and he knew that he’d have to talk to them about it soon. 

About their ex and how he’d probably been the reason for that tired look in their eyes. 

They were more quiet than they ever were around him, tapping their knuckles every few seconds. It was a nervous tick that they’d learned not to do as often anymore, but it was ever present now. 

He’d thought that with his day off on Monday, they’d be able to catch up on the time lost. 

Something just wasn’t right. 

“Angel?” He knocks on the bedroom door, not having heard them in the bathroom. 

“Can I come in?” No answer. 

He pushes inside, walking in on his angel curling into themselves with their legs pulled to their chest. The floor length mirror sits opposite them, as if they’d sunk down in front of it. 

“Hey,” he sinks onto his knees at their side. “Baby. Look at me.” 

“I don’t want you to see me like this right now. I don’t want you to have to…” they trail off and look up at him slowly. 

“I don’t like the way I look,” the words sputter out of them, tears rolling down their face. “I-I didn’t know how to tell you that I don’t-”

He trails a hand to the nape of their neck, resting it there. It’s quiet for a moment. 

“What did he say?

“Davey-”

“I want to understand. I want to help,” he dips his head to be eye level to them, giving his full attention. 

They seem to consider what he says, taking a deep breath before they speak again. 

“He,” they swallow,” used to say a lot of things that made me feel… awful about myself. And today, I just- I was reminded of that and I just… don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Their words are gentle as they wipe their cheeks. He gives a light squeeze as if to say I’m here. 

“I feel like such an idiot,” they mutter. They glance at themselves in the mirror for a second and he would be the only to notice the flash of pain on their face. 

He lifts himself up from the ground and sits on the corner of the bed.��“Come here.” 

They seem to avoid their reflection at all costs as they turn to face him. When they’re close enough, he pulls them into his lap. 

“You,” he kisses a path down their throat. 

“Are,” brushes a hand through their hair. 

“More,” pulls their face closer. 

“Then I could have ever asked for.”

They grasp at the collar of his shirt as though it is the only thing keeping them tethered. 

“You are perfect to me, and I know you might not believe that,” his eyes darken. “But whatever that fucker said doesn’t matter.” 

He seems frustrated and they look away. 

“I have never been more happy than I am with you. I love you.”

He can see that bright light in their eyes returning and smiles, wide and unrestrained. 

“I love you more, Davey.”

[cursivetalk]

What Are You Doing In My House?

Damiano David X F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Your day has been more than long and your friends ditched the evening plans. Frustrated, you get home and come face to face with one of the supposedly too-busy-to-see-you-friends.

Today was one of those days that just didn't seem to go right. No matter how hard I tried to stay positive, the universe apparently had other plans. First thing in the morning, my coffee machine had breathed its last stuttering breath, leaving me grumpy and tired on my way to work. At work, my boss screamed at me for things I certainly did not do and to put the fucking cherry on top, Damiano and the rest ditched me for tonight. With a text message. Can't make it, emergency band practice, sry. Nothing more. And that were the people I called friends. Nice.

Naturally, I was fuming when I unlocked my front door. Grumbling to myself, I threw the keys on their plate with much more force than usual, my shoes following suit.

"Woah, what did the shoes do to you?"

I might have screamed just a little bit at the new voice. To be fair, I was fully expecting to be alone. And not that Damiano had used the key under the potted plant to get access to my apartment only to sit lazily on the couch and smirk at me.

With my current mood, it was absolutely not a good idea to tease me. It felt like there was coming smoke out of my ears. "What they did to me? Oh I don't know, maybe just my best fucking friends ditching me after a gloriously shitty day and then thinking it's funny to frighten me to death."

And Damiano started laughing. He threw his head backwards, his hands clapping together in the way he always did when he found something extremely funny. I wanted to strangle him.

"Y/N, you're seriously the best," he said around a giggle while I was still doing my best at ripping him a new piercing with my glare (spoiler, it didn't work).

Unfortunately though, he was far too used to my death glares from long friendship and just shrugged it off. That didn't help with my little anger issue at hand so I asked through gritted teeth, "and what do you think you're doing here? I thought you don't have time for me."

"See, that's where you're wrong, mi amore," Damiano raised one finger and I willed my knees to not turn into putty at the pet name. That guys was driving me to madness and did it with glee, "I always have time for you. I just sent the rest away because I wanted to have you all for myself today."

"Excuse me?" My eyes must have been bulging out of my head at the statement.

That sounded dangerously like – no, that couldn't be true. Damiano certainly was not saying that there were more than friendly feelings involved. That was just his character, always flirty and never meaning a thing. Everyone knew that it wasn't ever to be taken seriously. Well, tell that my stupid heart. That was unfortunately too far gone for the man that was still lounging around on my sofa. Damiano was completely relaxed while I was still standing in the doorway, muscles all tense.

"I said," my friend repeated a little amused spark in his eyes at my reaction, "that I wanted to have you all for myself."

"And why is that?" My voice had pitched up into an unattractive squeak that I kind of hated myself for. Very confident, I thought sarcastically.

Now, Damiano rose up gracefully and walked towards me. Immediately, I wished him back into a sitting position. I felt so small next to him right now, this being stressed by the fact that I had to tilt my head up to still be able to look him in the face. Why did he have to be so tall? And that fucker enjoyed every second of it, judging by the self confident grin plastered on his lips. I wanted to wipe it from his face. With my lips. No wait–

"That is because I like to be alone with you," Damiano's voice was the exact opposite to my shrieking with his practiced tenor. The words came out of his mouth with no more certainty than one would state that two plus to was four. And with the same fucking confidence as if I was supposed to know what had gotten into his head.

"I don't want us to be just friends, Y/N and you should know that. It's not like I'm hiding my feelings from you."

That was new to me. Okay, we had cuddled a few times and maybe almost made out drunkenly once or twice (or did we make out that one evening? It had been Ethan's eighteenth birthday and the last half of the evening was definitely more blurry than anything else in my mind). But Damiano actually wanting something more than friends? I had problems picking my jaw up from the floor.

"Are you serious?" I blurted out, shattering the tension he had created with his revelation.

I had the impression that Damiano wanted to bang his head against the doorframe at my inability to give him a satisfying answer and just kept asking the same question all over again. Lucky for both his brain cells and my sanity he refrained from doing so. Damiano raised his hand to comb through his hair in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture and his whole demeanor changed from confident front man to school boy who just got caught with his hand in the bonbon jar. That somehow made me really believe his words.

"I'm serious, mi amore. If you want to stay friends, you have to tell me now and we forget this," Damiano had found back to his normal self but there was a little tremble in his voice as he added a soft, "please."

Finally, that snapped me out of my stupor. I took a step toward him, closing the gap between us almost completely. Just when I felt the fabric of his shirt underneath my fingers, I realized that I had raised my hands to his chest. "I'd love to be more than friends, Damiano."

The change in his expression was instant. His face lit up in a grin somewhere between happy and mischievous as he let his head drop down to me slowly. "Can we start that out with a kiss?"

Instead of answering, I raised to my tip toes and pressed my lips to his. I could feel Damiano breathe in sharply in surprise before he returned the kiss with gentle force. Immediately, his lips started to move against mine, sure of himself and his actions now that Damiano got the confirmation that I reciprocated his feelings. I sighed into the kiss and let him pull me closer by the waist. Damiano's hands had moved down to the soft curve unnoticed while I had been preoccupied by his lips. He used that advantage to press me closer to him. I squeaked surprised as I felt his body flush against mine. Not that it was unwanted, just unexpected. I could feel Damiano smile at the embarrassing noise.

Far too soon, I had to pull away for air. Damiano clearly didn't like that either as he kept chasing my lips even as I turned my head away. That exposed my neck to his hungry lips though which was apparently just as good for him. I giggled at the tickling sensation.

"So soft," he mumbled against my skin, the air of his breath fanning over the sensitive spot right under my ear. I shivered under the touch and had to hold back another embarrassing noise. I had made more than enough of them for the next century already.

"Damiano," I tried to get his attention. As much as I liked this right here, I was incredibly hungry and if I didn't get food in the next ten seconds I would probably faint. Or murder someone.

With a low noise of disapproval in the back of his throat, Damiano raised his head and minimally loosened his grip on me. "What is it, mi amore?"

My stomach decided to answer for me. It grumbled loudly into the silence. I blushed madly while Damiano just laughed. "Let's get you some food."

That sounded like a magnificent idea. But first I had to get something straight, "and Damiano?"

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Don't ever wait for me in a dark room without my permission."

Damiano swallowed thickly and nodded hurriedly. I just smiled sweetly.

-

Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

A Reading: Part 3 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch Reader)

<- Previous Chapter. Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, threats, manipulation

Word Count: 3257

Y'know how I said I would update this fic and then I never did? Well, come get y'all juice

Still. They were all perfectly still after you explained everything that you'd seen. None of the boys moved, but none of them were looking at you. They were processing your words, with some of them having already asked a multitude of questions as you tried to explain. You'd told them that this path, the path they'd set themselves on, would only lead to death. Their deaths. But that, as you'd seen, it wasn't either of the brothers that fired the first shot. Well, it wasn't their hand on the trigger- stake- whatever. It was two boys you hadn't seen even in your vision. They were with the youngest brother, but the thing that you stressed was that he wasn't the one that staked him. Staked Marko. You didn't even know the kid, but you were trying to make sure he didn't end up on a missing poster. 

You'd described the images in as much detail as you could. From the cards, you guessed it would be Paul and then Dwayne next simply from their placement on the death card. David would be last, but, again, you guessed that that battle would be between him and the brunette. From the way he'd held the antlers, the way he'd stared directly at the platinum blonde. A shiver ran down your back, and you reached for your cat. You tugged him close to your chest, and glanced at the four vampires. You'd tried to be as helpful as you could, keeping in mind the disadvantage that you were at. The silence was starting to thicken the air, make the hairs on your arms stand up. Salisbury meowed, as if sensing your discomfort. That little noise broke them out of whatever haze they'd been under, and it was Marko that asked,

"Is it- Is this it? There's nothing we can do?" He asked, and, even if they were vampires, your heart broke for him for a moment. The way he looked at you, how big his eyes were. The rest had lifted their eyes as well. Paul's eyes were eager, pleading. As if you could stop this. Dwaynes were intense, staring into you. As if there were more answers written into the creases of your face that he could see if he just looked a little harder. And David? David's face was unreadable, but his eyes were alight with anger. You gulped, and quickly shook your head.

"No- no. This is just the current path you're on. You make decisions every day, ones that keep you or push you off of a path. You just have to find a way off of it, and onto a better one." You told them. There was hope for them, even if you knew part of you shouldn't have been encouraging that. They were vampires. Killers. You should be happy to find that the creatures plaguing Santa Carla were going to end up dead in a matter of weeks. But, you couldn't bring yourself to be. Not when they were right in front of you and some of them seemed to be fighting tears. Fighting hopelessness. 

"We could kill them." Paul suggested with a shrug, and you were quick to send him a glare. But, to your surprise, David shook his head. Perhaps it was just because he knew you'd argue, or maybe it was because David knew that wouldn't take care of all of them. Or some of them might die in the process. David was staring to the side, and you could practically see the way the gears were working. He was trying to figure this out, figure a way out of it. You pet Salisbury absently, feeling awkward in your own home. There wasn't like there was much you could do now-

"Why are you traveling alone anyways?" David asked suddenly, and the question nearly made you flinch. Your eyes flicked to him, and, without meaning to, your thoughts gave him your answer. Witch hunters flashed through your mind. Your most recent encounter giving him a crystal clear image of what you faced. Of your predicament. You were running, trying to escape the hunters that pursued you. He stared, and then he nodded. "Our problems are the same then." He said, and your eyebrows furrowed. You stared at him, wondering what he meant. Where he was taking this. To answer him, you said a small,

"I suppose." It was barely a mumble. You didn't know if you would call them the same. Vampire hunters and witch hunters were both hunters at the end of the day, but you were sure you didn't deserve the prosecution. Them on the other hand…

"This could work. You protect us, we'll protect you." He said, and his voice sounded as if he already decided it. You opened your mouth to protest, or maybe just question, but David interrupted you. "Or, we could just eat you." And you shut your mouth just as quickly as you'd opened it. They watched you, waiting to see what you'd decide, and you finally let out a sigh.

"What do you want me to do?" And David grinned. Some of their requests you could've guessed. Protection spells and wards, and Paul had even asked if you'd bless a few of his jewelry items. You'd replied to that with a simple,

"Won't that burn you though?" And he shrugged and replied,

"Why, are you a priest?" And you did your best not to let him make you smile. You really did. But it still lead to you saying,

"These are gonna take time, especially the spells. I won't- I won't be able to complete them all tonight." You said, especially with how exhausted you were. The sun was coming up soon anyways, and it wasn't like they'd be able to avoid the rays completely in your little caravan. Plus, you weren't sure your nerves would be able to tolerate staying in such close quarters with them for an entire day if they did get stuck with you. Luckily, they could take a hint and they all finally headed towards the door, and Marko called to you with a wave of his fingers,

"Don't go anywhere." He said teasingly, but part of you knew the threat that lied underneath. Paul winked at you and said a quick, 

"Check you later, chica." Before Dwayne sent you a pair of finger guns and headed out the door with the rest of them. David was last, and he hung around for a moment. He looked around your little home, at all your trinkets and things. And then his eyes settled on you. You could feel the suggestion in his tone as he said,

"Don't even think about leaving." He told you, and you felt your necklace pang. Deflect any of the mental games he was trying to play. You nearly wanted to glare at him for trying to use his mind control on you, but you bit your tongue. You were so close to getting off scot-free. You wouldn't mess it up with a harsh word. Instead, you just nodded, and you watched as he left the room and you locked the door behind him.

You fell in a heap into your bed, staring at the roof of your caravan. It had been a normal town, just trying to make a buck. Now, you were involved with vampires. Vampires. You ran a hand over your face and groaned. As you tried to get ready and settle into bed, you ran the events over and over in your mind. Perhaps you should've just kept driving, or stopped in the next town over. Anything to have avoided the predicament you were in now. You sighed and tried to fluff your pillow, Salisbury at your side as the sun peeked above the horizon. As you tried to fall asleep, you decided that this seemed to be a never-ending nightmare

You were quickly proven right when a loud knock came at your door. You'd been up for a few hours, but you'd been too shaken to really explore Santa Carla. Or to try to make any money. The night had been slow, with you working on a few spells that you thought could help your reluctantly made allies. The knock had startled you, and you went to the door to peer outside. You left the chain on just in case. Standing there was Paul, a wide grin on his face. You hadn't even realized it'd gotten dark yet.

"Evening, sweet-cheeks. Miss me?" He asked, and you sighed. You undid the chain and pulled the door open another inch. You were surprised to see that it was just him, and a part of you eased. One vampire you could handle. "Now, did you have a dream about me too or was that just me?" When you stared at him and didn't reply, he sighed and shook his head. He pushed himself up from where he'd been leaning and said, "David told me to come check on you. Make sure you were still here." He said, almost sounding upset that you weren't willing to play along. But you were sure that he must've been used to his fair share of rejection by now.

"Well, I am." You told him, standing in the doorway and staring at the blonde. He arched a brow, surprised by your coldness. "Anything else?" You asked, trying to speed this up. The quicker you could finish their spells, the quicker you could leave Santa Carla. Paul sucked his teeth and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nah, not really. You finish my ring?" He asked, keeping his tone cool. Even if you could tell he didn't enjoy how quickly you were trying to get rid of him. 

"Yeah, a little while ago." You told him. He glanced at the opening in the door, not so subtly asking. You sighed and pushed the door open. He grinned at the silent invitation, and followed you into the trailer. He closed the door behind him as you went to your bed, picking the piece of jewelry off of your makeshift work table. You'd meant to just turn around and give it to him, but Paul passed you to lay on the bed just next to the slab of wood you were using to place all of your things. He grinned up at you, staring at you from where you stood. You stared back, not looking half as amused as he did. His hair had splayed out behind him, and his mesh shirt had risen a bit. Showing off a sliver of skin. He grinned when he saw your eyes follow the movement of him pulling it down. You quickly looked away and went to sit on the bed on the other side of your table as Paul pushed himself up onto his elbows.

The boys had made you nervous yesterday, but now? You were tired, grumpy, and just wanted to be left alone. But Paul was the least intimidating of the bunch, even if you knew you shouldn't underestimate him, and he was insistent on staying and amusing himself by touching all your things. He reached out to touch the herbs and jars you had on your table, and you lightly shooed away his hand. The gesture only earned a grin from him and he teased you by reaching out again. When you sent him a glare, he responded with, 

"You're really cute when you're angry." And you rolled your eyes. You tried not to let it chip at your resolve, but you could feel your cheeks heating up. You handed him his ring, a silver one with an eyeball on it, and you watched as he slipped it on. No burns. He grinned, playing with it and examining it. "So, what will it do?" He asked, and you waved your hand lightly as you spoke, calling a cup of tea towards you.

"It's just got some light protection on it. It'll warn off bad entities and help keep you safe." You said as you paged through your book, taking the cup from the open air and taking a sip. You didn't see how Paul watched the action, and you flipped the page. You were trying to find a spell that could protect all of them, or their space. You'd been consider the idea of warding wherever they slept during the day, but you were hesitant to suggest that. You didn't necessarily want to walk in a vampire den, allies or not.

Paul didn't move to stand, even after he had his ring. He hung around, even if he was just watching you read. He played with his ring, turning it on his finger, and the pair of you chatted here or there. Finally, he said,

"Did you- Did you do the dream thing?" He asked, and you looked up and responded with a confused hum. He looked surprised by your confusion, and quickly looked back down at your ring. "Oh, just- I really did dream about you and we don't usually…" He trailed off, and this time your eyes didn't leave his face. He'd looked away, and you could tell he was trying to figure something out. In fact, you thought he almost looked embarrassed. You tilted your head, the edge of your lips tilting up as you watched him. "Nevermind. How does your floaty thing work?" He asked, and you laughed and nearly choked on your drink from his description.

"My telekinesis?" You clarified, and he nodded. He was smiling, and it lit up his entire face. He was quick to reply,

"Yeah, that." And you found yourself staring for a moment. You knew vampires were supposed to be attractive. Most supernatural creatures were. It was a part of their appeal, like a venus fly trap. They pulled you in with their beauty and their charm, just to snap around you and eat you while you were still alive. But the way Paul's smile lit up his face? How easily he laughed and, while you could blame this on herbal substances, how he just seemed the slightest bit slow? It all made it seem as if he wouldn't hurt a fly. You smiled to yourself and said, 

"Uh, what do you mean?" You asked, and Paul was leaning in, nearly making your work table tip over. 

"Like, you can move things with your mind, right? So, is there anything you can't move or like- y'know?" He asked, and you swirled the spoon in your tea. You thought about it, and then shook your head.

"I mean, I don't use it all the time. I don't really think there's a limit it's just, like, how concentrated I am. But, I guess, I get tired when I use it too much." You told him. You didn't know why you were telling him these things, but you supposed he was good company. Better than you talking to Salisbury. If you were honest, it was probably the fact that it'd been a long time since you'd talked to anyone. And anyone that was as attractive as the blonde.

"Could you use it on me?" He asked, and you saw the glint of mischief in his eyes. You let out a scoff when he lifted his eyebrows suggestively, and you waved him away.

"In theory, yes." You told him, and he rested his head on his hand then. He gestured to you, as if encouraging you to do it. You gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on. If I knew witches were as uptight as you, I-" And you flicked your wrist. He was pushed back and his wrists were pinned on either side of his head. A surprise noise left his mouth, and you watched as he struggled. You pushed your work table out of the way, moved to sit besides him, and looked down at him. Your face was only a few inches away from his, and you watched the way he tried to pull against the hold. But, the grip was solid and his wrists didn't move an inch. Gently, you grazed your fingertips against his jaw to gather his attention,

"Happy?" You asked, and you watched as his gaze lifted up to you. He was watching you carefully, but, as the grin grew on your face, a smirk grew on his. You watched as a fire in his eyes grew, and the heat of it threatened to burn you.

"Extremely." He said, biting his lip and raking his gaze over you in a way that didn't hide at all what he was thinking. You didn't need to be able to read his mind to tell. You laughed, tugging yourself away from him just when he started to lean up, and you flicked your wrist to let him go. As you sat back, he followed you. One of his hands went down to yours, his cool fingertips reaching to hold your hand. "Is there anything else you can do?" He asked, tilting his face close to yours. Your breath hitched and you leaned back, and you tried to find a way to make your mouth move. To ignore the flirting in his tone. To ignore the way that, if you didn't know what he was, you would've already pulled him in. You tried to remind yourself. Vampire. Not to be trusted. Not to be underestimated. You'd forgotten that Paul could hear you, and the next moment Paul was tsking and saying, "You think too much." Just before he leaned in to close the gap.

***

When Paul approached the boys with a pep in his step and reeking of the witch, David arched a brow at him and asked,

"Well?" And Paul gave him a lazy grin.

"She won't be a threat." Paul said easily, and Dwayne lifted his eyes to give him a glare. Paul lifted his hands up, giving the brunette a look back. "What? I did what I was supposed to. Her telekinesis is strong, but she gets tired if she uses it too much and she didn't do the dreams. There, happy? And," He said. He went to sit on the railing, just next to where Dwayne was standing. He was slipping the ring off of his finger to give himself something to play with as he continued, "I figured she wouldn't be a problem if she actually liked us." He said, and David watched him for a moment. For how dumb the blonde usually played, sometimes he wasn't dumb at all.

He'd sent Paul to scope her out, to figure out how strong she was, and to more so see how she'd react to just one of them. If she'd try to make a break for it or surrender herself to the situation. It seemed she'd picked the latter. And the blonde was right. It would help if she liked them, even if Paul had a specific type of like in mind. Marko landed a soft punch on Paul's arm, and affectionately said,

"You're such a dog, man. We sent you to get information, you ass." But it seemed nothing was going to dim Paul's mood. He shrugged and said,

"I did. I just answered a few of my own questions." He said nonchalantly. Star and Laddie were off somewhere, so it was just the four of them on the boardwalk that evening. They watched the crowd for a moment, before Marko finally asked,

"How far did you get anyways?"

[hearts-hunger]

early morning lover || dave york x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Summary: He’s your early-morning lover, and he wants to give you another baby.

Pairings: Dave York x Wife!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff | Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, talk of pregnancy

A/N: This one's for my sweet nonnie who sent a very soft ask about baby-making sex with Dave. Nonnie, thank you so much for your patience - I hope you like this fic! ♡ (Also, in my little fantasy world, we're pretending Dave isn't a scary assassin. He's just a soft suburban dad who loves his wife and kids ♡)

It was barely light outside when the alarm on Dave's phone went off. You felt him roll over to turn if off; a moment later, his face was nuzzled against your neck as he pulled you against his chest.

“Morning,” he mumbled. 

You gave a sleepy groan. “I don’t wanna get up.”

He laughed softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I know, honey.”

He placated a bit of your grumpiness with his gentle kisses, his big hands roaming over your body as both of you woke up. Even though you both got up at the same time - him for work, and you to get the girls ready for school - he had always been more of a morning person than you were, and often spent the first few minutes of the day cajoling you out of bed.

“Do you ever wish I’d just spring up out of bed like you do?” you asked.

He chuckled and pulled you closer. “No, because then I wouldn’t get my morning cuddles.”

You smiled. “You do like your morning cuddles, don’t you?” Dave’s love language was physical touch, and from sunup to sundown, he could be counted on showing you how much he loved you. It was something you loved about him, and you especially liked how affectionate he was first thing in the morning, like he was giving you as much love as he could before he left for work.

Despite your best intentions, though, this morning routine frequently found Dave easing into the day while you eased into a few more minutes of sleep. He was just so warm, and you were so cosy cuddled up against him, and surely it wouldn't hurt to sleep a little longer...

“You’re falling back asleep, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone affectionate and much more awake than you felt.

You huffed and buried your face against his chest. “No.”

“It’s ok if you are, honey,” he said sweetly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “But I think I know a nice way to wake you up.”

You considered that. “A shower?” you asked. That was one of his tricks, inviting you into the shower with him to help you wake up, and it usually worked.

“No,” he said. “But we can take a shower afterwards if you want.”

You frowned. “After what?”

“After this.”

Untangling himself from you, he ducked under the covers and tugged off your pajama shorts and underwear, leaving you in nothing but his well-loved Dallas Cowboys t-shirt.

“Dave!” you squeaked, already feeling yourself respond to his warmth.

He peeked out from under the covers at you, an impish smile on his face. “Do you think this’ll work?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help an exasperated smile. “Well, if you’re already down there, you might as well give it a try.”

He grinned. “Atta girl.”

He worked his way over your thighs and skilfully eased into your heat, kissing everywhere, sloppy and sweet and hungry for you. Dave was nothing if not enthusiastic in his lovemaking, and his tongue quickly had you pulling at the sheets, squirming under the heady flood of stimulation.

“I’m already - oh fuck - Dave - ”

You were fleetingly concerned about being too loud and waking the girls, but damn if your husband wasn’t determined to make you cum before you could even register it happening. You didn’t really have time to be loud, so quickly did he bring you to the edge; you let out a sharp gasp of pleasure as he groaned against your heat, cumming on his tongue as he drew your orgasm out as long as he could.

“Jesus,” you managed as you came down.

“Uh-uh,” Dave said, giving your thighs a few last kisses. “Just me.”

You breathed a laugh as he wiped the back of his hand on his mouth and laid on top of you, his head and chest resting on your tummy. 

“That ok?” he said. “I know it was a little fast.”

“You’re apologizing for being good at eating me out?”

He laughed. “No, I - ” He shook his head. “I won’t apologize, if you liked it. It just occurred to me that it was a little too fast, maybe.”

Compared to how he usually went down on you, it had been fast - most of the time he liked to draw it out, teasing and torturously slow, leaving you absolutely spent afterwards. But you would have been worn out before the day even started if he’d done that, and his fast pace this time had done the trick.

“No, I liked it,” you assured him.

“So you feel good and woken up now?” he asked, raising his head to give you a cheeky smile.

“Yes, thank you,” you said, combing your fingers through his hair. “I’m downright bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

He chuckled and laid his head back down, kneading his fingers into the soft parts of you that you often didn’t like, reminding you how much he loved them.

“Hey, honey?”

Your fingers trailed down to the nape of his neck. “What’s up?”

You felt him take a deep breath.

“I think... we should have another baby.”

Your fingers stilled. “You... you do?”

He pushed himself up until he hovered over you, leaning down to give you a kiss before he met your eyes. His face was warm and gentle with sincerity as he studied your face, and you couldn’t help a bashful smile.

He smiled too. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I like it when you look at me like that.”

He hummed in agreement, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, your nose. “I love you.”

You let your hands drift over his shoulders, his neck. “I love you too.”

“I think we should have another baby,” he said again.

You smiled. “So you said.” 

You thought of what it had been like to find out you were pregnant with Alice. Dave had been so excited and proud; you wouldn’t have been surprised to know everyone in the CIA knew Dave York was a dad-to-be. He’d been the same way with Molly, fairly glowing with happiness at the news.

Everyone knew Dave loved being a dad, especially his daughters. He was goofy and gentle with them, firm when he needed to be; he helped coach their soccer teams and came home after long days at the office to help them with their school projects. He always said the worst part of his job was leaving the three of you, his best girls; he called home every night he was away and took all of you in a bear hug as soon as he was back.

You pictured Dave with another baby in his arms, being chased around the house by three giggling little ones, telling everyone in the office of another baby York - maybe David Jr., this time. You smiled.

“Why the sudden baby fever?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just..." He gave a soft laugh. "I love having kids with you. I love you, and I love our girls. I can't believe how lucky I am to be their dad and to be your husband."

You ran your thumb over his mouth. “Dave.”

“I know, I know. Since when is your husband so sentimental?”

You smiled. “That's not what I was going to say. I think it’s sweet.”

He kissed your fingers. “I think you’re sweet.”

You softened as he worked his way over your fingers, kissing the tip of each one.

“Dave?”

“Hm?”

You drew him down to kiss you. “I think we should have another baby too.”

You could feel his smile as he kissed you deeply, his hips lightly pressing against yours, nothing between you but his boxers. You were already warm from his earlier lovemaking, and you felt your body ease back into that languid, comfortable desire you felt every time he took you to bed.

“What if we start trying right now?” he said against your jaw.

You glanced at his phone on the nightstand. “Do we have time?”

“Plenty of time,” he said, not turning his attention from you.

His kisses were heady, and you felt your legs widen to draw him closer as you pushed his boxers down. Every part of Dave was as familiar as it was lovely to you now, after ten years of marriage, but you would never tire of the feel of him, broad and warm and safe against your body.

He eased into you slowly, taking his time, kissing your face and murmuring words of praise. It always surprised you, a little, when he kept your lovemaking slow without having to be asked - he usually liked it a bit rougher, a bit faster. You liked it when he had his way with you, but you loved it when he was gentle with you, and both of you took turns indulging each other’s tastes and enjoying what the other liked.

“Let me give you another baby, Mrs. York,” he said tenderly, hovering over you, kissing your face. “You do make mighty pretty ones.”

You tilted your head back as he moved in you, gasping softly, basking in the feel of him. He kissed your throat and gave a soft groan.

“Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” he asked.

You cradled his face in your hands and kissed him. “Maybe a boy. It’d be nice to have a boy, wouldn’t it? I bet he’d look just like his daddy.”

He smiled. “Yeah, it would be nice to have a boy. But I hope he’d have your eyes.”

He dipped his head and kissed your collarbone, leaving love marks across your skin.

“Fuck,” you gasped. You knew you needed to be quiet, but you couldn’t help it - you bit your lip and gave a desperate moan as he angled himself deeper.

“Dave,” you keened.

His whole face lit up in delight and surprise. He moved his hand over your mouth even as he laughed.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he said gently, adoringly. “You’ll wake the girls.”

You gave a choked sigh against his hand as he rolled his hips; he moved his hand down to your breast and kissed you deeply.

“I love you so much,” he said. “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

He took his time with you, letting your pleasure be the focus of everything he did. He cooed soft love words to you, gently reminding you to try and stay quiet, delighted when you weren’t able to. He told you he loved you when you came for him, your fingers gripping him tight enough to leave bruises as you drew him close. His sigh was choked with pleasure as he came deep inside you, kissing all over you, praising you for how lovely you were.

You curled up next to him afterwards, wanting his warmth; he propped himself on his arm next to you, tangling your legs together, tracing his thumb over the hem of your shirt where it had bunched up under your breasts.

“You look pretty in my old shirts, Mrs. York,” he said. He kissed you tenderly. “You think we made a baby?”

You smiled and ran your hand over his bicep. “Maybe. But we could always keep trying, just to be safe.”

He chuckled and kissed your jaw. “Yeah. Just to be safe.” 

He kissed you for a few more minutes before his phone buzzed, and you felt his body shift against yours as he made to get up.

“No, don’t go,” you said, pulling him close. “Just stay in bed with me all day.”

“What if it’s a national emergency?” he teased.

You brushed your fingers over his cheekbone. “What’s a national emergency compared to your wife?”

You felt his smile under your hand as you saw it brighten his face.

“Can’t argue with that,” he said. You drew him down to kiss you again; you didn’t know how long you would have kept him if his phone hadn’t buzzed again.

“Maybe it is a national emergency,” you conceded. “You should probably answer it.”

“Probably,” he agreed. He gave you a quick kiss before he turned to reach for his phone. “You want to get the shower started while I see what’s going on?”

You untangled yourself from the sheets and his warmth, already missing them as you took off your shirt and put your pajamas in the laundry. You blushed under the affectionate way he watched you even as he answered the phone, his tone all business like it was every time he answered a work call.

The sound of his voice drifted across your bedroom, but the conversation was lost to you as you turned on the shower and stepped in when it was warm enough. You didn’t have to wait long for Dave; he joined you after a few minutes, wasting no time soaping up and getting ready for the day.

“Was it a national emergency?” you asked.

He smiled. “No, but I do need to get going. Apparently there’s a bunch of high-schoolers coming in for a shadowing program, and I’m supposed to be in charge of them.”

You couldn’t imagine anyone better suited to the job - most of the people Dave worked with would have nothing but disdain for a group of nervous high-schoolers, but Dave would be kind and friendly and get them where they needed to go.

“Well, in that case, you better get a move on,” you said. Your morning shower together was usually a more leisurely affair, but you kept your hands to yourself - a valiant effort, considering how much you wanted to kiss every inch of him - and let him get cleaned up. He was out of the shower before you’d started on your hair, and he was nearly dressed when you got out.

“You look very handsome,” you told him, watching the way he straightened his tie in the vanity mirror.

He smiled. “Thanks.” He turned and kissed you, a brisk, passionate goodbye.

“Sorry I can’t help you get the girls together,” he said.

“That’s ok,” you said. You patted his chest. “Go wrangle some high schoolers. The girls and I will be right here when you get back.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, affection warming his expression.

You smiled. “What?”

He smiled back. “Nothing. I’m just glad we’re having another baby, that’s all. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him goodbye, already thinking about how much you’d like to try for a baby again when he got back home.

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[whump-town]

Lie to Me

Guess who's back on their shit?

Another cancer fic for you because there's something very weird about me that stays drawn to the idea of secretly being sick

Anyways

Warnings: well... cancer

Pairings: none? yet.

Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner has a certain reputation around the office. The BAU’s ghost, walking around in his leather dress shoes and fancy suits without so much as a groan from the old, torn tile beneath his feet or the muffled swish of the material of his slacks. You never know he’s there until he wants you to and by then it’s always too late. By luck of his poor hearing or his natural affinity for silence, nothing admitted in his silent presence ever graces his lips for a repeat. The secrets all die with him. He’s as loyal as a dog -- in ways that lead to natural gravitation. The reason why Penelope Garcia beams at him every time their paths cross, why she so eagerly rushes to match his pace. To just walk beside him and talk his ear off even though she knows her answers will come in the form of soft hums and furrowed brows. In other ways, it’s killed him. Left him to live the life of a lame dog, dragging his dying body away from them. Hoping to spare them the agony of his death.

Some things that people say about SSA Hotchner are true. He really does move like a ghost and it’s a thing of great mystery and annoyance. It’s cost Emily Prentiss numerous mugs but perhaps the flash of his smug crooked grin makes that worth the shattered cup at their feet (she wouldn’t agree with that statement). He’s made Derek Morgan nearly jump out of his skin, whirling around to attack whatever snuck up on him only to find Hotch frowning back at him. If asked, David Rossi will blame Hotch for 79% of the grey hairs on his head because he hadn’t even begun to go grey until he met Hotch.

He’s really not as scary as people make him out to be.

Penelope Garcia wishes everyone knew that. She wishes cadets looked at Hotch the way that they look at Derek and Spencer. As awe-inspiring giants, they crane their necks to look up to. Instead, they lower their eyes away from him. Whispering to one another about the rumors and the things that they have been told. They regard him as a lesson -- someone to measure their existence against. To know when to get out of the job. To know when they can no longer turn back.

He’d saved her when it seemed no one else in the world really looked at her. She’d watched him take her homemade pink stationary in his hands, held it delicately as he looked over what menial ideas she could think of. He’d looked at her kindly, not at all like the snobby FBI brat she assumed him to be, and shaken her hand, “Thank you, Miss Garcia.” For the months following her career change, he’d been too kind. Brought her lunch to her desk because she was too anxious to leave her office. Gave her advice about where to park and how to miss Strauss in the hallways.

As important as his approval is to her, his well-being is more important. So, no, she doesn’t turn away when she sees him on Saturday in the emergency room. He’s sleeping off a cocktail they’d given him, turns out it’s rather hard to place a catheter near the heart when it’s beating erratically. His anxiety had nearly caused him to be sick and so he’d agreed, finally, to let them give him something to calm him down. Which is where Garcia finds him, left arm cradled to his chest, too long limbs hanging off the stretcher, and breathing slow and steady through the oxygen canal under his nose. A precaution, that’s all, given the sedatives they’d doped him up with.

“Sir?”

The fingers in his left-hand twitch, flexing towards his palm and he grunts softly at the pain that the movement causes. Slowly, breathing hitching and his eyes fluttering open, he wakes up. He’d heard, vacantly, the hesitant “sir” from the end of the bed but he assumed it was a nurse. As his eyes rise up to search the room he’s surprised, entirely so that he thinks he’s hallucinating, to find Penelope.

“Are you okay?”

He’s still piecing together the last few hours but nods. Cracking open his dry lips he swallows thickly, trying to work his voice around the tightness in his throat. Dehydrated and still disoriented he reaches for the cup of water left for him but at the current angle that he’s laying at, he can’t get it. He clears his throat, sniffling, “can you, ugh--” He’s still looking at the cup, dazed to the point he can’t think of the words he means to say. Tired eyes look back at her, pleading silently that she understands.

Penelope nods, moving forward instinctively. She doesn’t look at him, at his dark blood dried to his arm. His hospital gown stopping just at the clear protective barrier between her and the port placed on the inside of his arm. “Here,” she whispers. She needs to be closer so he doesn’t have to stretch but can’t bring herself to be close. Not within his reach. Not so close that she can see the dark rings of sleepless nights carved under his eyes. Far enough away that the tremble in his hand is easily overlooked. So that he doesn’t seem as weak and frail as his voice sounds.

He sips the water, knows from too many mistakes not to drink too much just yet. “Why are you here?” He nearly sounds like himself, dark brows furrowed and voice taken its steady, deep rhythm back.

She looks over her shoulder, past the curtain pulled around them for the sake of privacy. “I, uhm, volunteer for a support group that meets every Saturday here at the hospital.” She points to the front desk, to a woman with curly hair pulled back in two ponytails. “I came downstairs to say hi to Mac and I saw you and I just…” Suddenly, realizes how she shouldn’t be here. That if he wanted comfort he’d have told them, or someone.

Wait. Stop.

That doesn’t matter. Hotch doesn’t know what’s good for him. Everyone knows that. So she made the right decision to come over here.

“You’re not driving yourself home, right?”

In her silent contemplation, he’d began to fall asleep again. The cup in his hand dangerously tipped and eyes held open by slow, deepening blinks.

“Hotch?” She touches his hand, flinching away at just how cold his skin is.

He cracks his eyes back open, cracks of soft brown iris finding her slowly. He hums, mouth cracked open.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Home. He hums again, vaguely aware of her warm hand coming to rest over his. Moving his stiff fingers away from the cup, taking it from him so he doesn’t spill it over himself.

It’s meticulous work, keeping him awake. Even harder making sure he gets dressed but once he’s sitting up he’s much more alert, grumpy now for being duped into asking her for help. She’d offered it but that means nothing to him. He’s no less thrilled to find his brain too foggy and arm too weak to work his arm through his sweater. She still smiles when his head pops through, hair a crazy mess on his head.

She packs him carefully into her car, a boxy little thing he’d frowned at when she bought it. He’d been the reason behind Morgan and Reid both coming to her office with statistics and fear about the safety of it but she’d loved it. He’s a worrier, prone to stewing and her car had taken up a lot of his energy for the first year she owned it. Now he’s being packed into the green monstrosity, senses assaulted by incense. Everything’s sparkly and he ends up sitting with a teddy bear in his lap, a troll in his hand. He’d taken their rightful place as her passenger.

His legs do not fit no matter how far back he moves his seat back and Penelope feels awful that he looks so uncomfortable but also finds it to be humorous. His knees to his ears, dark scary Agent Hotchner holding a stuffed bear to his chest, head resting against the window. It’s sweet.

It’s fairly easy to figure what his thought process today when she pulls up to his house and no one’s home. Jack’s camping, she learns. He’s dozed off again, prone and more willing to whisper half-truths. Will be away for the whole weekend until Tuesday morning. Jessica is getting her nails and hair done, he’d made the appointment just to make sure she really did it. The haircut should have ended just in time that he could call her and ask if she’d pick him up from the hospital. Where he thought he would have already artfully hidden the PICC line under his sweater and played the affair off as a routine sort of deal. A check-up.

“Sir…” she’s standing now, awkwardly, in his living room. The curtains are drawn back the way he likes, closing off the sun. He’s tucked under his heating blanket, trying to remain awake for the sake of the fact that it’s rude to fall asleep while entertaining guests. Yet, failing miserably. “Sir, I was just wondering… Is everything okay?”

“I’m--” the truth nearly slips right out. He clears his throat, managing to sit up just enough to catch her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Garcia. Jessica will be around in an hour.” He holds his left hand closed, trying to stop his cramped fingers from twitching. “Dave and Emily are coming by for dinner. I’ll be okay.”

It’s completely unethical.

It’s so unprofessional.

But she can’t help herself.

Her eyes prick with tears when Emily shakes her head in the kitchenette, the sound of Hotch’s wet coughs breaking through his closed office door. “He needs to get that checked out,” she sighs, hiding her bleeding worry with annoyance. “Sounds awful.” And Penelope stands there with Hotch’s secret tongue-tied.

He’s getting worse and fast.

She gets a call from Derek, seething anger laced into his words. “He fucking-- He fucking just-- .” She knows it’s really just fear. Can hear him walking, his rapid pacing as he tries to outwalk his expanse of emotions. “He -- He shouldn’t be in the field. I mean, it’s like he didn’t even see it coming. He was just…” She remains steady. Wipes the tears that slip past her eyelashes with the back of her hand. Derek cries, on the ground with his knees to his chest, and he tells her what happened. How Hotch was paying attention to him and if he hadn’t been then maybe…

She greets them at the elevator, feels her smile attempt to waver when Hotch’s tired eyes raise from the ground. The bruise along his cheek a deep agonizing yellow, the wound on his temple still weeping angrily through the bandage. He can’t fly until his concussion is healed, longer if his tinnitus doesn’t get better. “It’ll be fun having you home,” she assures him, giving his fingers an extra squeeze.

Luck, it seems, has never seemed to favor Aaron Hotchner’s particular brand of bold.

Working at the District Attorney’s had been a morally fulfilling job. In theory, he could rest assured, each night, that he was doing what he could to help people. He was putting the real bad guys behind the bars. Even as his dreams filled with the images of the victims who had to wait for months, and even years, to get their proper justice. In reality, he slept poorly and rarely. Unable to properly maintain his workload without impossibly long hours. With time he found his work to be unfulfilling. He was doing nothing to stop crime from happening and sinking further into the realization that was failing more people than he could ever begin to help.

In court, he was ruthless. Haley didn’t like the man he became in the courtroom. Ruthless and harsh, he appeared evil and terrifying with his hawk-like eyes and infallible ability to pinpoint weaknesses in his opposers. Around the office, they nicknamed his alter-ego “Hot-head Hotchner” because the Aaron that gets flushed ordering lunch couldn’t possibly be the same man who made a man wet himself on the stand. Haley couldn’t agree more.

Hot-head Hotchner got him offered a job in corporate law, several firms were throwing big numbers at him to encourage that lasered focus to be on their side. Lest they find themselves opposing it. Morally, he could never go into corporate law but the offer to spend hours bending law into something pliable and poking holes in judicial wordings was compelling. It would be complex, rewarding work with a big pay-out. Better than the shitty salary he made at the D.A.’s office. Before he could make the compromise he met David Rossi and he never got his chance to bend the law to his will, he held his moral ground and instead changed career paths.

It was bold leaving what he knew he was good at for something new entirely.

A costly decision.

He never got to fulfill his secret desire to mold the law but bending the truth wasn’t a far cry from the same thing. Lying has never been something he felt comfortable with and that had no exceptions. He hadn’t wanted to tell the team Emily had died but that had far less to do with his morals and so much more to do with a picture much bigger than himself. The hell he knew that would rain down upon them in the weeks to come. The inability of the team to cope. Intuitively something holding them back and what they could only assume was a stage of grief.

To Emily Prentiss, he has never lied. Stretched versions of the truth he maintains to not be the same thing as a lie. If they count then his answer would be different but the eye of the beholder adds context. And as the holder of this context, he resolutes the power to declare them very different.

“New girlfriend?”

He’s breathing through a bought of nausea attempting to take him off his feet. The cold countertop biting into the skin of his wrist, his palm pressed flat to the surface so that he doesn’t grip the edge. So that his pale bloodless knuckles holding onto dear life do not betray the severity of which he fears he might get sick or pass out.

His phone is on the counter, turned upside down so that he doesn’t have to see the screen light up with every new text that comes through. The high-pitched “ding” of each new message is lost to the tinnitus he’s been succumbing to now for the better part of the week. No amount of coffee or Tylenol has helped.

Raising his gaze makes the pounding in his head worse but he has to meet Emily’s questioning gaze. They’ve started to notice his “off” behavior. His inability to stand for long amounts of time without physical drain. His decision to stay home on the last several cases, working here with Garcia rather than joining them in the field. The way he relies on Morgan’s lead more than he used to, falling silent and allowing the other man to make decisions. He suspects they just assume he’s looking into retiring or that he’s struggling to kick his “chest cold”, he doesn’t bother correcting them.

“No,” he manages, swallowing around the heaviness of his tongue. The way his mouth seems full of salival added pangs to his stomach as he knows he’s going to be sick. “It’s Jessica.” She’s angry with him and for good reason, though he doesn’t offer an explanation as to why.

Emily hums, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. “What’d you did you do to piss her off?” In other circumstances, he might assume she’s attempting to pry. She’s just here for another cup of coffee, offering him a way to release some of his stress. No hard feelings if he suggests she fuck off and willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk. She’s not holding her breath but she hopes he comes undone. That he admits to some awful conspiracy and that this whole time they’ve been in some twisted social experiment to see how unified they actually are. That he isn’t as sick as he looks. That he’s just in a low spot and in a month he’ll be putting the weight back on and Derek will be telling them all about training for another marathon. How Reid could do more pushups than Hotch.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispers. He tries to step away from the counter. Feels the temperature in the room drops several degrees, his skin broken out in goosebumps. “I think to sit down,” he says frantically, knows now he needs to sit before he passes out.

Emily grabs his arm, tries to help him up. To get him to the chair that’s right there, so close.

“Hotch?” Derek jogs into the kitchen, he’d seen from afar and come running. “Emily, what’s wrong?”

Emily helps him to the ground, hand holding the back of his neck as his body starts sinking faster, beyond his control. She sits down on the ground beside him, eyes scanning across his body to find a feasible answer. Below her, Hotch’s breathing has gone rapid and shallow. His eyes rolled back into his head, neck-craning as he unconsciously fights to get air into his lungs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know. He just-- He was just--” Hotch wheezes, an awful sound. He chokes, blood coming to paint his lips. To coat his teeth.

“Hotch?” Derek moves to his side, picking up Hotch’s shoulder to move him onto his side. “Hotch, answer me!”

His only reply is a wet gurgle, a blood-coated wheeze.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 8

I swear, I will wind this one up in the not-too-distant future but I keep kind of thinking of different things to do with it. Bad writer, bad. Finish your work!

You can find the previous bits of the story:

Place Your Bets

Part one two three four five six seven

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing

You feel like an idiot for actually believing that he was going to talk to you the next day, or that he was going to do anything other than ignore you the way he has since your arrival. If anything, he’s ignoring you harder than ever, or at least taking greater pains to be anywhere around you. If you see him, he’s always moving and with others. The wall between you is so thick you start gaslighting yourself, wondering if you imagined the tryst in your car.

The whole company is buzzing. It’s the last few days before the big Slammiversary show, the peak of their year. The excitement for the show and for finally having a small audience is mingled with the knowledge that every year, there are some surprises. THe bigwigs play their cards close to their chests, which means that the talent and behind the scenes people, yourself very much included, don’t know who could pop out at any moment. New Japan has been frustratingly tight-lipped. It’s supposed to be your job to bridge the gaps between New Japan and Impact but no one will tell you who might be trying to cross those bridges.

Is Nagata coming back? You’ll find out.

Another appearance by Phantasmo? Wait and see.

Tama and Tanga are mouthing off at the Good Brothers all the time on social media. Are they showing up?

It’s like shouting at a wall.

Finlay and Robinson are there, they tell you. Take care of them.

It’s almost more frustrating to hear that because, of course, you’d like to do that but one of them is very determined not to let that happen.

By Thursday afternoon, you’ve done everything you can.

“Take a day off,” Scott Damore, the man tasked with keeping this little beehive running tells you. “Go home and relax. You’ll want to be rested for Saturday.”

You want to tell him there’s no need for you to leave now but your aching back, neck, and head disagree.

“What time do you need me here Saturday?”

“Morning?” He looks surprised. “Just come in an hour or so before the show.”

“But what do you need me to do?”

“Sit in the audience, cheer at the right points, look excited if the camera passes you.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be liaised in the middle of a show. Grab a seat, have some fun. Be a fan for a few hours.”

You laugh a little because you can’t remember the last time you were able to just be a fan.

“You do like wrestling, don’t you?”

“I do,” you chuckle. “I just don’t really have the opportunity to indulge that very often.”

“So go home, have a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Do whatever it takes to get rid of that headache that I can see right through your skull. Spend the day in your pajamas playing videogames with teenagers online.”

You rise slowly, thanking him as you move to go.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “you’re doing a great job. Don’t think they’re not going to hear about it in Tokyo.”

It’s such a sweet note to leave on that you’re most of the way home, or to the temporary rental that’s passing for home right now, before you think about the fact that you haven’t laid eyes on David all day. He’s been around, because if he hadn’t been, you’re the one who would have had to field questions about it. But he’s been invisible to you.

You end up taking Scott’s suggestions very much to heart. You order dinner from the Chinese place you’ve become addicted to, watch early episodes of The Walking Dead, and have a couple of drinks until you can feel a warm blanket of sleepiness wrapping itself around you.

And that’s when your doorbell rings.

You grab your phone, although there’s a large part of you that wants to ignore it because it’s a little unnervingly late to be getting callers. But you pick it up just on that off chance, because there’s that sliver of hope that it’s…

“It’s David.” He sounds tired and grumpy but you don’t even care because he’s there, at your door and it makes your heart race. You buzz him in and then just stand in front of your apartment door like a complete idiot until you hear him knock.

As soon as you open the door, though, your heart sinks.

“Seriously?” he snaps, holding your panties up for anyone to see.

“How long does it take you to go through your damn pockets,” you hiss, trying to hide how close you are to crying.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to get a restraining order?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I know it was stupid, I just thought maybe if I left you a little reminder that… I don’t know. I thought that if I could get you back once…”

“You did not get me back. I’ve been lonely and I had a weak moment. And even then I couldn’t bring myself to fuck you.”

“Fine. I misinterpreted and thought it was me you wanted. Happy to have given you a show and a nice warm surface to rub one out.”

He throws your panties on the floor without another word. Now you have a problem. You know perfectly well that the second you let him out of your sight, he’s going to disappear. But the door to your apartment is going to lock automatically if it closes unless you step back inside and adjust it. So if you want to avoid giving him the chance to run away, you have to find a way to reach your discarded panties without allowing the door to close behind you.

Awkwardly, you bend forward but it’s immediately obvious that the offending garment is still out of reach. You try looking at him but he seems amused by your predicament. So you have to get right down on your knees and stretch, all while keeping your foot on the door, which weighs a ton. You’ve never felt less elegant in your life, nor more ridiculous than when you glare up at him. His expression is scornful and amused, but there’s a hint of something else you can see in his eyes. There you are, the bitch who he believes used him, the one who’s been begging for his attention, now on her knees in the most humiliating position.

You grab the scrap of fabric and scramble into a standing position before starting to speak. Unfortunately, you move enough that your foot slips from the door. You flinch as you hear the heavy thud.

“Fuck!” he yelps, loud enough you think the neighbors will show up.

It takes a second for you to register that he stuck his hand up to stop the door from closing and that the full weight of it crashed onto his fingers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” It’s like every time he gets near you, something awful happens to him.

You push the door open and take his hand, trying to see if there’s any damage. He’s obviously irritated and tries to pull it back but it occurs to you that this could be serious.

“Come on, you have to at least let me put some ice on that.”

“No.”

“You have to. If it swells up, your hand could be screwed up for Saturday.”

He looks positively disgusted as it dawns on him that you’re right but he lets you lead him gently into your apartment.

You take out your ice tray and wrap a few cubes in the dish towel, pressing it softly against his hand. He swats you away and holds the makeshift ice pack himself. There’s a little grunted sound that might be a thank you.

“What even happened?”

“I thought the door was going to lock if it closed, I just tried to stop it. Don’t know why I did that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, guilt soaking your voice. “I would have been locked out.”

“Boohoo.”

“I’m really sorry about the panties, I just-”

“You’re just a disaster area and I need to stay the fuck away from you. I should have just thrown your little present in your face at the show.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“I’m going to wait a few minutes until I’m sure my hand is ok. I would really appreciate it if you would just not speak for the rest of the time I’m here.”

The look on his face is so pained, so defeated, that you just nod and look at the floor. But you can’t hold it in. The insanity of the situation you’ve put yourself in and the feeling of having him close enough to touch while also being so remote burns through your insides like a wildfire and you just… break.

You let one loud yelp out and then it’s nothing but tears and loud sobbing. He immediately looks up at you and although your vision is blurred, his expression isn’t unsympathetic but that just makes it worse and you cry harder as you try to speak.

“You’re right, you should stay away from me… I thought that if I came here… I thought that if you knew I left him… that I left him for you…”

Your voice breaks up and you have to wipe your face just to keep yourself focused.

“I didn’t think about how bad I am… for you… for whatever… I just wanted…”

You break down in sobs again and you’re just about to go and hide on the balcony until he leaves when it happens. A miracle. He lays the towel on the counter and walks towards you. Even through your tears, you can see that his expression is much softer and that allows you to hold it together until he lays his hands on your shoulders and pulls you just a little closer.

At that point, once again, you lose it, the memory of how that touch felt back before you’d made a mess of everything. He presses you close to his chest, which amplifies the feeling and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand.

You open your eyes a little and he makes a face.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” you blurt. “I don’t know why I do the shit I do, it’s just-”

“No, I mean your face… there’s mascara stuff happening. It looks like an oil spill.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, holding back the tears as he uses his sleeve to wipe your face.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have another pair with me. Besides, it helps with swelling, remember?”

You laugh a little again, trembling when he holds your face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t have any of that vicious resentment in his eyes. It’s almost like the way he looked at you that day you had breakfast in the cafe, just sadder.

He looks at you that way for what feels like a long time, allowing you to regain control of yourself.

“You have really cute ears.”

“Wh- what?”

He smiles. “Your ears. They’re so cute, you have no idea. You always have your hair pulled back or up and I just remember noticing at one point. I’d smile about it all the time when you weren’t looking.”

“How do ears… be cute?” You can’t imagine what he’s talking about and yet the weirdness of the compliment makes it wonderful.

“Come here.” He takes you by the wrist and leads you into the bathroom. He positions you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and pulling you back against his chest. He takes your jaw in his hand and gently turns your head so that you can see the side of your face and your apparently adorable ear.

“You see,” he explains, running his thumb delicately along the outer ridge, “it’s kind of big and round up here, and then it tapers right off into this perfectly proportional little lobe and it looks like a half a heart. So they look like two halves of a heart. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed this before.”

He laughs softly and presses his face against yours, the scrape of his beard on your skin sending shivers through your whole body. His lips touch your cheek so fleetingly that you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“Crying takes it out of you,” he sighs. “Let’s put you to bed.”

You feel numb as he leads you into the bedroom and helps you onto the bed before turning to close your blinds.

“Do you like being back in the States?” you ask, hoping you can stretch out his visit a little longer.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s weird, all the back and forth lately. I swear I think I’m still jet lagged, or I’m just permanently fucked up.”

You smile as he sits down on the side of the bed. He smiles back but he makes no move to touch you or get closer.

“How do you like Impact?”

“I like not working Japanese hours.”

“Damn, I’ll bet. It’s one thing with the wrestlers but they don’t give you guys a break ever.”

You suddenly realize that you don’t want to talk about your work in Japan at all.

“I heard your brother is getting into wrestling too now?”

“Yup. I’m not sure Dad wanted either of us doing this for a living but I guess it really is in the blood.”

He takes your hands and places them on your stomach, very ladylike and demure, and pats them with his.

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go fight with the door to get out.”

“Tell me a bedtime story?” You try to make yourself sound as cute and harmless as possible and not like some crazed broad desperate to prolong the moment.

“No.”

You pout a little, gratified when you hear him chuckle.

“Ok, once upon a time there was an extremely silly little princess who could never figure out what she wanted. And no one ever seemed to be able to help her decide what that was, no matter how hard they tried. The end.”

You can’t help but give a wry laugh at that. “At least it’s nice to be a princess.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

You stare at him a long time, trying to figure out how to untie all the knots of what you’ve done. You can’t even imagine. You’re still trying to figure it out when he bends down and touches his lips, very softly, very quickly, to yours.

He pulls back but then almost immediately repeats the gesture. Then repeats it again. And again. He shifts so that he’s hovering over you, continuing to give you these little kisses.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“Stop what? You’re the one kissing me.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right.” He leans in again. “Stop me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t stop.

“Yeah, I don’t really want you to stop me either.”

And from that point, it gets more insistent, more romantic, and more passionate, until you feel him easing your pants down and running his hands over your thighs and ass. Determined that he is not just going to turn this into another resentful mutual masturbation session, you pull at his shirt. He wriggles free of it immediately easing you out of yours.

“How do you manage to run around without a bra on like that?” He squeezes and licks at your breasts with a little wink.

“I’m in my own apartment. I’m allowed to walk around however I want.”

“Yeah. But you don’t always wear one at work either, do you?”

He crashes his mouth into yours, tongue eagerly breaching your lips.

“Don’t think I don’t notice,” he pants.

He slides down and presses his face between your legs before you can think of a witty comeback, and once he does, you can’t think of anything. It’s so intense, so determined the way he goes at this, the way he picks up on every little twitch and tremor in your body, how he paces himself and you enough that it never feels like a rush to a goal. You don’t deserve this. You have no right to have him be this good to you.

You twist your hand in his hair, pulling it loose from the disheveled bun he’s always sporting. The parts of it that were trapped inside are still damp and you tug firmly to make him look up at you.

“Did you shower before you came over here?”

He smiles coyly and presses two fingers inside you, curling them like he’s beckoning you forward, making you moan and twist even as you’re trying to keep your mind focused.

“I shower pretty frequently,” he grins, “what’s it to you?”

He presses his lips close to your clit, allowing his tongue to flick ever so lightly against it.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, trying not to get overwhelmed by what he’s doing, “I like thinking you got yourself all cleaned up and handsome for me.”

You feel the soft vibrations of his laughter as he dives back into you, tongue pushing up inside you and making you scream before you grab at his hair again.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” you whimper.

“Oh I love doing it.”

“I mean I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, when I’ve been so-”

You’re cut off as he goes right back at it, licking and pushing harder for a few seconds before he whispers, “If you had any idea how often I’ve jerked off fantasizing about eating you out, you’d probably stop speaking to me.”

With that he pins you down and continues in earnest, going at you with a zealot’s vigor so that you can’t question him or do anything but scream and beg him to continue what he’s doing until you fall apart, trembling and gasping.

You feel him wriggle out of his pants before he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you and playfully biting at your lips, his arms wound tight around your waist. You run your hand slowly down the length of his shaft, smiling at the little gasp this elicits.

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah…” the hesitance in his voice terrifies you. “I was… I was hopeful enough to get all showered and freshened up before I came over but I wasn’t so confident that I actually brought any kind of protection with me.”

“I’m on birth control. And I get checked regularly, I swear, I’m-”

He kisses you hard, so passionately that you almost tumble over.

“You sure?” he whispers when he breaks the kiss.

“Very sure.”

He flips you onto your knees and pulls your hips back towards him. As he enters you, you realize that you’d convinced yourself you weren’t ever going to get this again. It’s like a reprieve from prison, feeling him fill you up.

He leans down enough that the feathery tips of his hair brush against the skin of your back, a stark contrast to the powerful hold he has on your hips. There’s an unbroken stream of praises coming from him but all you can think of to whimper in response is, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He slows his pace just a little.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “I didn’t think you’d want to touch me again. I don’t deserve you being this good to me.”

“Oh sweetheart no.” He pulls you up and holds you against his damp chest, one hand immediately falling to your clit while he continues to thrust inside you. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I want to feel you come again, I want you to come on my cock.”

You let yourself relax into his touch and it takes very little time until he has you falling apart for him again, your muscles contracting sharply around him as he clearly fights to keep control.

He flips you onto your back like you’re nothing and smiles down at your dazed face.

“Let’s do this right.”

He leans down and pushes himself back inside you slowly crushing your body close to his and planting a fierce kiss on your lips. His movements are agonizingly slow, letting you feel every bit of what’s happening, picking up only when you hitch your hips against his. He keeps you wrapped up tight and close, faces practically touching as he finally lets himself come, eyes locked on yours. It’s a long, tender few minutes while he holds you, touching his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You just put it out there before the post-coital haze can fade, hoping it’ll stop him from closing himself off again.

“I love you too,” he whispers, nuzzling against the side of your head. “But you knew that already.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders a little.

“Stay with me. Sleep here, please.”

He looks thoughtful but it doesn’t take long for him to smile, stroking your cheek as he does.

“Yeah,” he beams, “I will.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you close again.

“Did you seriously think I was going to be able to stay away from you forever?”

“Yes. I was pretty sure that you didn’t entirely want to, but I figured you’d fight it off.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“About six years.”

“You were working at the dojo and we all used to hang out together, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had we been there before I asked you out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. A few months.”

“Closer to four. And I was already so hung up on you that I could barely think straight when you were around.”

You look at him in surprise. Yes, you’d known that he’d flirted a lot, but at that point all the boys at the dojo were trying to scheme their way into your pants. You’d always assumed that his real interest had developed much later.

“Yeah,” he says, noticing your expression, “I was that into you that early. And you know damn well it only got more intense from there.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses your head against his chest, kissing your hair. “And you thought that having finally gotten to take you to bed, having gotten you to say that you liked me, that I was going to be able to walk away?”

You squeeze him tight and nestle against him, your head immediately finding its way to the hollow of his shoulder. And as soon as it does, your whole body feels warm and safe and content. You want to keep talking to him but you can’t because this sort of bliss doesn't allow you to stay awake.

[random-imagines-blog]

They Speak the Language {Tech Boy x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2181 Summary: Tech-Boy’s bad mood is starting to get to you, so you start to look for inspiration to turn it around. Notes: Contains bad language.

You knew it was a bad idea to get involved in the war between the old gods and the new. You were somewhere in the middle, along with a couple of others, who could very well tip the scales. And it wasn’t that you believed that one side was better than the other either. But one side had someone that you cared for more than the others. And that was the dangerous, marvelous, grumpy little thing that you knew as Tech-Boy. Of course you had thought that he was a bit of a douche when you met him for the first time, shortly after his emergence into the world. Everybody did. It was a part of his charm. But deep down, yeah, there was a heart there. After all, not all technology is meant to be cold. Most of it was built to help others, or to improve lives. He just took the functional part of it a little too seriously at times.

You took a lot of rides with him in his special car. Sitting in the back with him as it drove itself - or rather, one of the faceless minions drove - around the different cities. Anywhere you wanted to go, you could. New York one minute, LA the next. Technology had no bounds, no limits, and so - neither did Tech-Boy.

“Why are you wearing your shirt like that,” You scoffed once you realized what it was that he was wearing. The jacket itself was nice, but he only had the top three buttons fastened. The rest were undone, showing off the red shirt underneath. “You look like you’re preparing for a huge dinner or something. You don’t even eat. What gives?”

You poked at his thin stomach, and he shoved your arm away. He adjusted the coat so it was exactly how he liked it, the open flaps down. “It’s the new look, y/n. Not that you know anything about what’s new.”

“Wow, someone’s being fucking harsh,” You said, folding your arms around yourself. You’d grown used to his rather ... delicate temper over the years. You knew not to take offense. “What crawled in your vape and died?”

“New Media,” He grumbled. You nodded, knowing that was a pretty good reason. The bubbly but bitchy new form of Media was a pain in the ass. You preferred the old. At least she had class. And a pretty good David Bowie impersonation.

“Say no more,” You said, sinking into the interior of the seat. You made yourself comfortable as the car went. You didn’t know where you were, nor did you know where you were going. It was more so about the journey than the destination. And with this teched-out car, the journey was definitely in style. “Just don’t forget that she owes her existence to you. Without the printing press, smartphones, internet - all that you have created - she’d be nothing. Lord it over her. I do it all the time.”

“You talk about me to her?” He asked, eyebrows shooting up towards his curls.

“More like I brag about you to her,” You snorted. “Okay, she might be a bit more superior than I am in the hierarchy, I’m barely anything, but you? Bitch is kidding herself if she thinks that she’s better than you. And guess what, you like me-”

“Barely fucking tolerate-” He muttered.

“-way more than you do her, so in her stupid face.” You didn’t allow his interruption to bother your momentum. You knew that behind that hard, technological, douchebag exterior was a heart wrapped in microchips. A soft, beating heart.

“She just doesn’t have to be so fucking smug,” He said. You could still feel anger coming off of him like heat waves. You just chuckled at his attitude - he really let things get under his skin. And he tried so hard to pretend to be this big tough guy.

“Don’t worry about it,” You said, patting his knee. “You’ll be around for the rest of time, and media is just going to be a fad. Especially her kind of media. She’ll get reborn again and again, as media changes. So -- forgedd abou-it.” You attempted your best accent, trying to sound like the Italians in the movies.

“You’re fucking horrible, you know that?” He said to you. But before he turned his head, you could just make out the corner of his lips going up into a smile. You would call that a success.

“So where are we off to, today? Silicon valley to go and mess with the nerds? Seattle to go and talk to Bill Gates? Come on, hit me with something fun.”

He just shrugged in retaliation. “I don’t feel like fucking with anyone today. I just want to .... go.”

“Okay, then let’s go...” You said, eyebrows furrowed. It really didn’t feel like it was a success anymore. He was closing off from you again, and you didn’t have any other choice but to let it happen.

-

You drove around for hours. There wasn’t anyway to measure the time, and the windows were permanently dark so you couldn’t see if it was day or if it was night out there. It didn’t matter. You had nowhere that you had to be, nor anywhere that you would rather go. He did slowly start to open back up. He bitched a lot, but he was well known for doing that. You would be much more concerned if he suddenly started to be positive. But he was slowly getting there.

It must be hard for him. He always provided what the people wanted, and what they needed. There was a difference between the two and he gave both. But there was always so much pressure to do more. To be better. He could outdo himself on one thing, and the next day, people would be clammering for bigger and better. He never got to actually enjoy what he gave.

Even those who had helped to bring into this world, like Media, and New Media. They came from him. They wouldn’t be here without him. And yet, they also just asked for more, more, more. They took, and they took. And gave nothing in return. They claimed some of his gifts to this world. They made it all about them. Look what I can do! If you worship me, you’re worshiping yourself! Narcissism at the touch of a button! Look at this celebrity’s ass! Look at these tits! Oh, a dick pic! Look, look, look.

What a lonely existence that he must have, you thought, as you watched him take puff after puff out of his vape. You don’t really know what he did outside of these drives with you. He never talked about it - only mentioned World and Media in passing. Not what he did with them. Not how the war plans were going. He tended to keep you separate from that part of his life.

“Fuck it,” You said, leaning forward in your seat. “Pull over.”

The driver did what he, or rather it, was told, and pulled the car over to the side of the road. You didn’t even know where you were. It could have been in a field, or a dark and creepy alley, or the suburbs of Albuquerque.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tech asked, looking at you like you had suddenly gone insane.

“You’re acting like an asshole,” You said, shrugging, and opened your door. “And it’s honestly killing my vibe so... I’m going out to find it again.”

“Find your vibe? Here’s your vibe check-” He said, making a gun with his fingers and pointed it at you. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“And?” You got out of the car, and felt the cool night breeze on your face. It blew through your hair, and it felt pretty good after the staleness of the inside of the car. You looked at your surroundings, and grinned as you saw some lights not too far in the distance.

A movie theater. Absolutely perfect.

Tech-Boy slid out of the car as well, and stood in the middle of the street. His facial expression left you no doubts that he was doing this against his will. He didn’t want to be out here. “What the fuck are you doing?” He finally asked.

“Come on, you big grump,” You said, taking hold of his hand and started to pull his thin frame towards the theater. He grumbled, but he walked along. Once you were inside, you noticed that there was an arcade area, for those who came too early for the movie. “Let’s have some fun. You really seem like you need it.”

Eventually, you had him paying air-hockey. He only half-ass played until you scored on him three times in a row, and then his more competitive streak started to show. He was moving back and forth, using his striker to block off all of your attempts. And just when it seemed like you were slowing down, he went from defense to offense. The puck shot across the table and straight through the slot on your side. The table let out a clang, and added one to his score. You picked out the disk with amusement as you watched him do a little shimmy dance. His thin little hips stuck out of his designer jeans, making you chuckle.

“I’m still ahead, douche,” You said, putting the puck down and shooting it while he was distracted. He was quick though, and blocked it, sending it back your way.

You played five games, until best three out of five, which he ended up winning. You hadn’t let him either - that wouldn’t have been fair. You then went onto the motor-races, with the chairs and the steering wheels. This was also something that he was better at than you were, but you didn’t mind losing. It was seriously so good to hear him laugh. And to hear him say ‘fuck’ in joy when he won, rather than annoyance at someone else.

You got a bag of popcorn and some soda just to watch him play Pacman. “Little - color - fuckers -” He mumbled when they came too close to his circular, yellow character. Only to let out barks of laughter when he got the big pellet and was able to eat them down. “Eat my ass, losers.”

Eventually you were both thrown out due to Tech-Boys language, but you didn’t even care. You didn’t even know which city you were. The likelihood that you would come back was slim to none. You got back into the car, the good mood still going.

“Well, this has been fun,” You said, resting your head on top of Tech-Boy’s shoulder. You were starting to get tired - even some of the minor Gods needed to sleep at times. “I should probably go home though.”

“Okay,” Tech-Boy said, and with a snap of his fingers, the car started to head in that direction. The rest of the ride remained silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Once in a while, a little laugh slipped through as the energy of the night stayed with you.

Eventually it all came to an end as the car stopped outside of your place. You reluctantly took your head off of his shoulder, and got out of the car, but paused before you would close the door. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” He said with a nod, picking up his vape once more.

“Okay - bye Techie. Love you!”

He looked at you like you were crazy, then did a shooing motion to try to get you on your way. But you didn’t move.

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” You questioned, leaning on the top of the door as it swayed under your weight. He curled his nose at you, and then tried to dismiss you again. But you didn’t move, just stood there grinning at him. “Not gonna leave until you say it back, big guy.”

He mumbled something under his breath. You cupped your hand around your ear. “What’s that?”

“Love you too,” He said, finally in a voice loud enough for you to hear. “You fucking freak.”

“Aww, you’re such a softie,” You grinned, sticking your tongue out between your teeth. You finally closed the door and made your way up to your place, the car idling outside until you were safely through the door. Tech-Boy held up his hand to snap his fingers, but didn’t until he saw the light in your window come on. Despite being alone, he smiled, chuckled, then finally told the car to keep on going. He might as well head home - the best part of his night was over.

[fanficshiddles]

Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 19

The following morning Esme woke up and was surprised to find she was actually alone in the bed for a change. She made the most of it though and had an extra long lie, spreading out completely starfish across it.

But then she looked at the time an hour later and saw it was almost lunch time. She couldn’t believe she had slept for so long. But being in heat had really taken it out of her.

The Alphas had all decided to leave her be when they woke, they made the most of the sunshine that morning and spent time outside in the garden. They were all happy when they saw Esme come out to join them, she had a lovely yellow sun dress on and a wonderful glow to her cheeks.

After getting morning hugs and kisses from all five Alphas, making her blush furiously, Chris suggested they play rounders.

‘Come on. We didn’t get our game the other week thanks to Mr grumpy pants over there.’ Chris said, poking fun at Tom who glared at him.

‘Esme needs to be careful now she’s pregnant.’ Tom said.

‘Please, Tom?’ She begged. ‘It’s early days, I will be ok. I won’t overdo it.’

Tom pursed his lips and folded his arms over his chest. For a moment she thought she was going to get told off. ‘Fine. But you take it easy.’ He sighed.

Esme was happy that Tom agreed for them all to play rounders. She had so much fun and saw a more playful and fun side to them all. They were quite competitive against one another, she couldn’t stop laughing by the end of it, her stomach was starting to hurt from so much laughter.

Michael suggested they have a picnic outside, but Esme strangely found herself wanting to go inside to eat. She didn’t entirely understand it herself, but she felt like being out in the open for too long would be dangerous.

‘Don’t worry, poppet. It’s natural what you’re feeling.’ David assured her, rubbing her back as they went inside. He could tell she was a bit confused at her own actions and feelings.

-

Tom and David came home from work a week later, they heard small whimpers coming from Esme in the bedroom. They shared a look with one another, frowning. Then went to investigate.

They rushed into the bedroom and was hit with the smell of arousal from their omega. Chris had her pinned to the wall, he was fucking her hard. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs wrapped around him.

‘Chris!’ Tom barked.

Chris stopped momentarily, panting as he turned his head towards Tom and David. Glaring at them angrily for interrupting. His cock was throbbing inside of Esme as her body clenched down on him, her face hidden into his neck.

‘What?’ He snarled.

‘You’re being too rough with her. Calm it down.’ Tom snarled back at him, nose scrunched up.

‘She’s pregnant, not injured.’ Chris growled.

‘Calm. It. Down.’ Tom warned, his eyes blazing.

Esme whined a little, not just from the lack of movement but also because she didn’t like it when her Alphas argued in a non-playful way.

Chris huffed and tightened his hold on her, making sure she was secure against him as he turned and carried her to the bed. As he lay down, she let out another whine at the way his cock moved inside her. He took her more gently, mindful that Tom was watching from the doorway.

David was watching too, he had his hand down his trousers and was squeezing himself.

Tom leaned in towards David. ‘I’m having a word with Chris after, so keep Esme occupied.’ He whispered.

David nodded. ‘Gladly.’ He purred, keeping his eye on Esme as she squirmed beneath Chris.

Once Chris was almost finished with her, Tom told him not to knot her. Chris was NOT happy being told that, but he didn’t dare disobey the pack leader. So he knotted outside of her cunt, still emptying his load into her. It just wasn’t as fulfilling as it normally was for the two of them.

Tom gave Chris a few minutes to recover, nuzzling with Esme. Then he told him he wanted a word.

Esme peeped over at Tom and David shyly as Chris folded the blanket up over her. She was a bit confused why they were pissed at Chris just for having sex with her.

David smiled softly at her and crawled onto the bed to lie down next to her while Chris left with Tom.

‘Are you alright, poppet?’ He asked, stroking her hair.

She nodded. ‘What did we do wrong?’ She whispered.

‘You didn’t do anything wrong at all. Don’t worry.’ David assured her. He got under the blanket with her and she snuggled up against him while his hands roamed over her body. ‘We just don’t want to be too rough with you while you’re pregnant. Don’t want to cause any kind of damage to the baby.’ His hand slid down across her stomach.

‘Oh.’ She said quietly and squirmed when his hand ventured lower.

David grinned as he slipped his hand between her thighs, feeling her heat and wetness from her, and Chris’ sperm. He slipped his fingers through her folds and started stroking her softly, rubbing over her clit.

‘How has your day been, pet?’ He purred.

In response she just whimpered and squirmed at his side.

‘Come on, tell me. What have you been up to, hmm?’ He hummed, focusing on her clit for a moment in firm circles.

‘N… N… not much.’ She gasped.

David chuckled and slid two fingers inside her, his thumb taking over clit duty. ‘Come on, poppet. Tell me what you’ve been up to.’

Esme whined and buried her face into him. She couldn’t focus properly with the way he was pleasuring her.

-

‘What is your problem?’ Chris sighed as he got a beer out from the fridge.

‘Our omega is pregnant. We need to be careful with her, do NOT be so rough with her during sex.’ Tom growled, pointing at him.

Chris smirked. ‘You know she enjoys it rough since her heat.’

‘That is not the point.’ Tom hissed and shoved at Chris’ chest, knocking him back against the counter and spilling some of his beer. He glared at Tom.

‘Are you jealous because you had to work today?’ Chris snarled.

‘She belongs to all of us, I am not jealous. I can have her whenever I want. And I am pack leader, so my say is final.’ Tom growled firmly and squared up to him, trapping him against the counter with a mere glare. ‘If I see you being rough with her again while she is pregnant, I will shove my fist so far up your ass you won’t be able to walk, never mind have sex, for a month.’

Chris’ nose scrunched up, but he didn’t square up to Tom. He backed down and looked away, showing he wasn’t going to try and take him on.

Tom left Chris with his beer and headed back to the bedroom. He passed Ben on his way.

‘Has Chris been rough with Esme often today?’ Tom asked him.

‘Hi to you too.’ Ben chuckled, but stopped when he saw Tom was serious right now. ‘Not that I know of. She spent pretty much all of the morning with Michael and I watching TV. Chris was out doing errands until just a few hours ago.’ He shrugged.

‘Good. David and I came home to him being too rough with her. We have to be careful with her being pregnant.’ Tom said and Ben nodded.

‘Of course. I’ll keep an eye on Chris.’

‘Good.’ Tom patted him on the shoulder and continued on to the bedroom.

When he walked in, he found David fingering Esme, he was also tickling her side while his arm was around her. She was giggling and writhing around next to him, the blanket was bunched up down at their feet, giving Tom a nice view of what was going on.

Tom licked his lips as he watched her cum, her laughter turned into moaning and David held her closely as her entire body shook.

When Esme started to come down from her high, Tom was crawling up the bed towards her. A hungry look in his eye. She blushed hard and hid her face into David’s side, but then she squealed as Tom grabbed her ankles and dragged her down the bed and underneath him, chuckling as he did so.

He leaned down and kissed her neck, he flicked his tongue out across her skin and moaned at her taste. Working his way down her body, he kissed and licked at every inch possible, giving special attention to her nipples on his way down.

Esme cried out in pleasure when he reached his destination between her thighs. He started licking through her folds and up over her clit, smirking when she bucked up against him.

David gathered her wrists together when she went to reach down to grip Tom’s hair. He gently pulled her hands up above her and held her in place while Tom ate her out. She panicked momentarily at being restrained like that and unable to move when she tugged her hands against David, but Tom’s talented tongue soon had her distracted and moaning in pleasure again.

‘Good girl. Give Tom a nice big orgasm.’ David purred, kissing her hands.

Tom slipped his hands around Esme’s thighs and he held her firmly open to him as he licked her like there was no tomorrow. When he latched onto her clit with his lips and sucked hard, she almost lost her mind completely.

As she came, again, David held her hands tightly in one hand and used his free one to reach down to play with her nipples.

Tom growled like a mad man as he lapped up all she had to offer him. He pulled back, smacking his lips together and grinning wickedly up at her. He then looked to David. ‘Would you like a taste?’

-

Esme was tired that evening, after eating dinner with her Alphas she got comfortable on the sofa with Michael and Chris. She had her head on Chris’ lap, he was running his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp. Her legs were draped across Michael’s lap, he was lazily stroking her legs. She felt nice and content, she wasn’t even focusing on what they were watching.

The other Alphas were there too, on the other sofas. Jealous that they didn’t have Esme on their lap or next to them.

‘Good idea with starting to hold her down.’ Tom said quietly to David, both of them looking at their omega instead of watching what was on TV.

‘I thought it would be a good idea to make a start, get her used to the feeling before using physical restraints.’ David hummed.

‘Indeed.’ Tom agreed, rubbing his finger across his lower lip.

[kissjane]

LONELY NIGHT / Short fic

#48 from this prompt list

I think the lovely 🐝 wanted something like this, and some other anonymous Davenzi shipper… Hope you’ll like it.

I called you at 2am because I need you

Trying to sleep alone is the absolute worst. It is bad enough to not be able to see his boyfriend during the day, but at least during the day, he can distract himself with other things. Right now, in the middle of the night, all David can think about is Matteo.

The past few weeks have been nothing but horrible. First David had spent a few days at his parents’ house, and when he got back, Matteo had been rushing to finish a big project for school. When that finally had been handed in, his mother had suffered a bit of a relapse and Matteo had gone to stay with her. He had gotten back to the flat share last Thursday, and David had been more than ready to finally spend some quality time together, but then Hans had decided a party was in order. As usual, it had lasted until early morning, and there hadn’t even been time for a shower together before they had to rush off to class. On Friday they had been invited to Amira and Mohammed, and by the time they had left there, the cold that had been threatening to break through for a few days had made David cough and sniffle, and he had sent Matteo home alone. He’d stayed mostly in bed all weekend, and then when he had finally felt better, it had been Monday again and the normal hustle that came with it had overtaken them once more.

And now they were back to Thursday, and David had snapped at everybody – at breakfast, he’d yelled at Laura for chewing too loud, and before class, he had told a few unsuspecting classmates off because they were giggling about one of David’s favourite movies. During his lunch break, he had scoffed at Carlos and Kiki sitting too close together, which had greatly confused Carlos because he and Matteo would have been even closer – but Matteo had been spending his lunch breaks in tutoring recently. He’d even thrown some sarcastic remark at Hanna when she had walked to the library with him, and when he had stopped by the flat share in the hope of catching Matteo before David had his therapy appointment, he had snarled at Mia and Vicky.

Matteo had sent David a text during the latter’s appointment, asking if he was okay, why he was so grumpy and curt with everybody recently, and if Matteo had done anything wrong.

And David had been ashamed at his behaviour, when he had read the texts after he left his therapists’ office, but by that time it had been over an hour since Matteo had sent them, and David hadn’t known how to explain that he was just frustrated.

His finger had hovered over his phone to call Matteo, but it had been late, and Matteo had seemed so tired when they had briefly talked over the phone that morning, in between classes. So he had just gone home with lead in his shoes.

And as he lays in his bed, tossing and turning, constantly frustrated by the lack of a warm snoring body, he remembers that tomorrow isn’t looking good either. Matteo has class until late and on top of that, he is supposed to get together with some classmates for a group assignment in the evening. It doesn’t look like they will have much time together, and Saturday they already agreed to go help out Jonas with a surprise he was preparing for Hanna’s birthday.

David sighs. He wonders why the whole world is conspiring against him. Is it that bad to want an hour alone, undisturbed, with his boyfriend? Hell, he’d settle for thirty minutes at this point.

He didn’t even know it was possible to miss somebody this much. And it feels like he is overreacting, too – it isn’t like he hasn’t seen Matteo at all, they’d hung out plenty. But it’s just – they haven’t been alone. And while Carlos is right, they are always touching somehow when they are together, it isn’t enough. David needs to be closer to Matteo, to feel the warmth of Matteo’s skin, to breathe the same air, to rest his head on Matteo’s chest and hear his steady heartbeat in his ear. And he also needs Matteo inside him, and Matteo’s tongue all over, and to taste Matteo, and to watch how Matteo closes his eyes and tenses his whole body when he comes. It isn’t wrong to want to have sex with your boyfriend, is it?

Long story short, David is horny, and frustrated, and he doesn’t care about being needy. It is unbearable. He grumbles out loud, trying to get comfortable, hugging Matteo’s pillow as some sort of ersatz Matteo.

Nothing helps. The blankets are too heavy, but without them, he is cold, and the bed is too big without Matteo. He grabs his phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding him, thinking he can watch something on YouTube until he falls asleep. But automatically, he goes to Instagram, checking out Matteo’s pictures, or his own with Matteo in them. And then he opens up their chat history, reading the silly messages of love they exchange all the time. His thumb almost caresses the screen, as if it is Matteo’s face. And then suddenly he notices that Matteo has been active recently.

Before he completely realizes what he is doing, he has pressed call. Matteo answers almost immediately.

“David? What are you doing awake? It’s almost 2 a.m.”

Just hearing Matteo’s voice makes all the stress and grumpiness disappear, and David laughs.

“I could ask the same,” he retorts, his voice teasing.

He can almost hear Matteo smile, and he curls up between the sheets, thinking about how Matteo is probably doing the same right now.

“Is everything okay?”, Matteo asks softly, after a few moments of companionable silence, and David’s cheeks flame up in shame again.

“Yeah…”

Matteo presses on.

“You can tell me, if I did something wrong… I mean, you seemed so grumpy earlier, and Mia said you came by and she thought you were angry… But I can’t figure out what I did, so just tell me, please…”

“Oh, Teo…” David sits straight up against the wall. “You did absolutely nothing wrong!”

“Are you sure? But you are upset about something, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s just because I’m so frustrated that we haven’t had any time together between the two of us. I miss you, that’s all.”

Matteo is silent, and David wonders if anything is wrong.

“Matteo?”

“Yeah,” the reply comes quickly, “I’m still here. I just… You really are so angry and snappy because you miss me? That’s all?”

God, David didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love with Matteo, but he just did. He might just have melted at the softness in his boyfriends’ voice. But the fact that Matteo doesn’t get how much David needs him must be rectified, immediately.

“That’s all? It’s just about everything! You are everything. So when I can’t have you, of course I’m gonna get snappy. I need my Matteo fix. I needed my Matteo fix two weeks ago, in fact. A day without alone time with you is… not a good day, no matter what else is going on.”

Matteo laughs softly.

“Really? I didn’t know. I thought I was the clingy one…”

“Hey!”, David retorts. “I’m not clingy. I just know a good thing when I see it, and I don’t plan on letting go. You’re stuck with me.”

“Just the way I want it.”

They both laugh, and then the line goes silent for a few minutes, only the sound of their breaths coming through.

“I miss you too, you know…”, Matteo then speaks, softly, a bit hesitatingly. “If you want –”

He cuts himself off, and David knows Matteo doesn’t want to assume, doesn’t want to pressure, doesn’t want to offend – so he just takes the proverbial bull at the horns.

“Can I come over?”

He hears the sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line, and then Matteo’s beautiful laugh.

“Hurry up.”

David is already out of his bed, pulling on some pants and a hoodie over his sleeping shirt, not bothering to find socks.

“Be there in ten.”

“Good,” Matteo says. David can hear the excitement in his voice. “Use your key.”

David smirks.

“Why?”, he asks, as he tiptoes through the flat, opening the front door, rushing down the stairs.

“Can’t open the door naked…”

David unlocks his bike in record speed and starts pedalling as fast as he can.

“Be there in five,” he pants, hearing Matteo’s delighted laugh right before he ends the call. The image of a naked Matteo waiting for him is incentive enough.

He makes it in four.

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 7

Unedited! Please forgive me but I’m tired and will edit it tomorrow for Ao3

@andiirivera @blackwidownat2814 @gryphbear @meredeph @jonesfandomfanatic @forget-me-not-s @groovyfoxpeace @superchocovian @therealstartraveller776 @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook

While everyone’s attention was on Will or the broken wreck of their home, it was almost too easy for the demon to slip out the front door undetected. If Emma hadn’t been facing that direction, she would have missed it to. Cutting her conversation with Killian short, she quickly followed the invisible being out onto the front patio. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she called, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you’re here Glass.”

One minute there was nothing, and then suddenly a tall, light skinned man was standing before her. “Hello Emma. Fancy meeting you here.”

Tilting her head to the side, Emma raised a brow, “What are you doing here Glass? This is my gig.”

“You sure about that?” Sidney Glass frowned as he began to circle her. The creases beside his mouth deepened, making his face look too long to be human. “Because I hear that the Source grows tired of waiting. He wants results.”

“And he’ll get them,” Emma tried to hide the annoyance in her voice, but from the look Glass gave her, she wasn’t successful. “I’m close.”

Glass laughed and stopped his shark-like behavior. His shoes clicked as he snapped his heels together before her. “No,” he sighed, “you’re not. You’re distracted.”

Snarling, Emma stepped closer to get into his face, “Watch it, Sidney, or I swear, you get in my way again--”

“And what?” Glass smirked before his form disappeared. Emma barred her teeth at the darkness, her eyes snapping this way and that, trying to figure out where he went. “You can’t fight what you can’t see, Emma.”

After a moment of silence, Emma determined he’d left and shimmered down to the Underworld. Her destination wasn’t her little hole in the wall though, this time it was the Source’s chambers. Emma’s skin was hot with her anger and she felt the urge to tear something apart with her bare teeth. She was the Source’s most trusted bodyguard. She was his Firestarter. She wouldn’t be sidelined by some second rate demon who’s only skills were invisibility and pure gall. 

When she arrived in the dark and stony chamber, the Source wasn’t alone. Baelfire sat in one corner, picking at a few pieces of cooked meat left over on the room’s table. He looked up at her arrival, then narrowed his eyes when he registered her anger. 

The source sat before his spinning wheel. He was participating in his usual past time of turning straw into gold. When she was a child, growing up at his side, she’d loved watching him do it. It was a beautifully elegant process, and a surprisingly delicate hobby for someone as powerful and brutal as the Source. 

Today though she was two seconds away from turning the spinning wheel into a pile of tinder. “Master.” She kept her fisted hands at her sides, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms. 

The Source made a low noise of acknowledgment but didn’t raise his gaze from his task. “What is it, dearie?” His voice was deceptively low and calm as he said, “You look quite heated.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Glass?” Her mouth pulled back into a scowl but the rest of her remained frozen. No matter how mad she was, she knew the Source’s demeanor could change at any moment. One false step and he’d rup out her heart. He’d probably hand it over to Baelfire too, as a snack.

“Hmm? Oh yes,” he blinked, then looked up at her. His big yellow eyes honed in on her and his shiny green lips pulled back into a smile. “Because I didn’t want to.”

Baelfire snorted, but quickly averted his eyes when Emma turned her head to glare at him. Taking a deep breath, Emma tried to cool the raging fire in her head. She felt like a volcano about to erupt. “I don’t need his help,” she bit out. “My plan is working. If you just give me more time--”

“Two months is quite a bit of time already, don’tchya think?” The Source asked, his nose scrunching up as he spoke his quick words. 

“Other demons have had two years and I don’t even get two months? That’s bullshit!”

“Nah-nah-nah!” The Source wagged his finger at her and bared his teeth in a challenging sort of smile. “Two months with all the knowledge of those who came before you. It’s been too long and I want them dead.” The Source shook his head, his shoulder length wavy hair barely moving as he did so. He stood up and straightened his tailed jacket. “The Seer assured me that Glass would come in handy. How, I don’t care. Now get to it girlie!” He titled his head to the side and gave a theatrical flourish with his hands, “Those Charmed Ones aren’t going to destroy themselves!”

He disappeared in a wall of flames. 

“Aww, don’t look so grumpy, Emma,” Baelfire smirked at her from where he sat in the corner. “Dad’s just messing with you.”

“Don’t you start!” She snapped, placing her hands on her hips and giving him an unimpressed look. “I know you broke into the Jones house last week. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Shrugging, Baelfire sighed, “I was curious. Wanted to see if I could get my hands on that book of theirs.” Tsking, he looked away and added, “Couldn’t even touch the damned thing.”

Emma shook her head and moved on, “Why Glass? He’s just going to be a nuisance. I don’t have time for this.”

Lazily tossing a piece of meat her way, Baelfire rolled his eyes, “Relax! Just get rid of him if he annoys you so much. No one would even notice if he were gone.”

Dragging a hand down her face, she pointed out the obvious, “He can turn invisible. Makes it kind of hard to hurt him.”

“Hard,” Baelfire leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs, “but not impossible. Have you ever heard of ectoplasmic biochemistry?”

“What?” Emma shook her head, exasperated at his question. What kind of question even was that anyway?

Baelfire laughed, “Thought not. It means that Glass doesn’t like the cold. It makes him visible.” He leaned back and smirked, “Too bad he doesn’t have the nerve endings to warn him when the temperature takes a dip.”

Emma stared at him long and hard. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. He was telling the truth. Running her tongue across the edge of her teeth, Emma hatched a plan.

The next day, Emma watched the Jones house until the sun set and the three brothers all left the house together. Liam and Will were bickering about something, but Emma was too far away to hear. She made a mental note of it though. Bickering led to fights, and fights led to destruction. 

When the Charmed Ones finally pulled out of the driveway, Emma left her little corner and walked straight up to the front door. Liam had been the last one to leave the house, and according to David’s official notes that meant-- “Aha,” Emma hummed as she easily turned the door’s handle and found no resistance. 

Leaving the door open behind her, Emma sauntered over to the thermostat and turned on the air conditioning. The night was supposed to be a cold one, the coldest of the year so far in fact. Emma made sure to turn the thermostat as low as it would go, and then moved to the parlor. Room after room she went, opening every window she came across to let in the chilly night wind. 

She went through the second floor next, then made her way up to the attic. This door was in fact locked, something Emma rolled her eyes at before shimmering to the other side. Unlocking the door, she opened it and set her sights on the large bay windows just past the Book of Shadows.

Emma eyed the relic on her way, wondering how many demons were listed in it. Was she? Shaking her head, she walked past it and opened the windows, taking a second to appreciate the cool breeze on her still hot skin. Even after her talk with Baelfire she still felt out of control. She’d see the Seer tonight, she decided. A vial of tonic always helped and she needed more anyway. 

Turning around, Emma thought about what she’d do next. Take some tonic, obviously, but maybe after she’d pop in on Killian at the pub. He’d probably love that. Flirting with him was like walking a fine line. She couldn’t be too accessible or else he’d grow bored, but too standoffish and he’d give in. Emma needed to find a way to capitalize on the discontent she’d witnessed between Liam and Will earlier. Killian would know what they were arguing about, she mused, it’d be easy enough to find that information out from him. 

But first, Emma shook her head, she had to take care of Glass. Heading back the way she came, Emma once again found herself staring at the Book of Shadows. Her heart pounded in her chest and something in the back of her mind whispered for her to reach out and touch its pages. Stepping closer, her fingers itched to do so. Baelfire was a demon--well, half anyway--maybe since she was human she could--

She took another step closer and felt a strike of lightning wrap itself around her neck, and soon her vision went black.

I Killian I

“It worked!” Liam yelled, his voice muffled by the live band’s instruments. Had it not been for the fact that his elbow jammed itself into Killian’s drink, spilling it all over the bar, Killian probably wouldn’t have noticed anything.  

Accepting the clean hand towel from August, Killian began sopping up the liquid and asked, “What worked?”

“The crystal!” He stood up and grabbed Killian by the back of his neck, “We have to go. Will!” 

After grabbing the youngest Jones brother--ripping him away from his date in the process--the three of them were on their way back to the manor. Before they had initially left for the evening Liam had confessed he’d created a sort of demon trap in case anyone tried to steal the Book of Shadows again. Will had thought he’d lost his mind, stating it was dangerous and likely to kill someone. Liam, as sure as ever, disagreed, stating that since the attic door was closed, only a demon could get in and be trapped. 

Well, Killian thought as they rolled up to their house and found the front door wide open, they were about to find out which brother was right.

As soon as they walked in, Killian cursed, “Blood hell.” It was freezing! Worse even than outside. He made his way over to the thermostat, “Who turned the bloody AC on?”

“Probably the same person who opened all the windows,” Will snipped, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “What demon does this, huh, Liam?”

“Come on!” Liam said in a rush, taking the stairs at a run. “We’re about to find out.”

Killian followed next, racing up the stairs right behind his brother. Maybe there was a demon who liked it better cold, or maybe this time it was a demon and a human after them, or--”Emma!”

The door to the attic was wide open and laying on the floor, unconscious and surrounded by crystals was his Swan. He lunged forward, but was yanked back by Liam. “Killian, wait--”

“Get off,” he pulled himself free, “she’s hurt!” Falling to his knees at her side, Killian carefully rolled her onto her back and checked her pulse. “Swan? Swan, can you hear me?”  

She grumbled something incoherent. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. “Killian?” She murmured, her head rolling towards his direction.

Killian pressed his hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheek bone. “Shh, Swan, it’s alright. I’m here.”  Killian realized his hand was shaking and tried to keep it steady. “Can you open your eyes for me Swan?”

Green eyes flickered open, first focusing on him and then all around as she took in her surroundings, “What--”

“What are you doing here?” Liam asked, his voice rough and his hands up, ready to use his power. 

“I was,” Emma tried to sit up, but then her eyes rolled back into her head. 

“Here, Swan,” Killian shushed her again and pulled her head into his lap. “Take it slow.”

Emma looked up at him, her skin pale but her eyes bright. Quietly, just for his ears, she said, “Thank you.” Killian’s heart stuttered against his rib cage and the ability to breathe escaped him. 

After another moment, Emma kept her eyes on Killian but she started to speak. “I was coming by to check on you. I saw,” the took a moment to swallow thickly, “I saw the door open so I came--”

“You came to check on us,” he finished, looking towards Liam with a glare. Once Swan was safe and home he’d be having words with his older brother. His demon trap very nearly killed her!

Liam’s jaw tightened and he raised a brow in silent response, not a hint of apology in his eyes. It made Killian want to vomit with frustration. 

Shaking her head, Emma sat up and asked, “What happened?”  The color was returning to her cheeks, but Killian still made sure to keep a hand on her elbow as she rose to her feet. Emma looked at the ground and pointed to the crystals, “What’s that?”

Will sputtered, and stared at the crystals with his mouth agape. Killian could see him trying to come up with something--anything--that would explain what had happened, but absolutely nothing was coming to him. Killian felt the same. How were they supposed to explain how a few crystals electrocuted someone? Bloody hell, Killian thought, he wanted to strangle Liam right now.

“It’s a trap,” Liam said plainly, folding his arms over his chest and starring Emma right in the eye. Feeling his own jaw drop, Killian felt his stomach drop down to the floor. What the bloody hell?

“A trap,” Emma said slowly, her brows raising higher than Killian had ever seen. “For what?”

When no one, not even Liam, answered her, Emma shook her head and headed for the door, “I’m out of here.”

“Swan!” Killian called after her, glaring at his older brother as he went. Emma sure was quick though, and by the time he was properly able to catch up to her they were almost on the first floor again. “Swan, I am so sorry. Please forgive us.”

Emma merely snorted in response, so Killian continued, “Liam’s just been on edge lately, since the break in--”

“Like hell I have,” Liam snapped, his eyes alight with an indignant fire. Killian slapped his hands to his head, at a loss for words. He didn’t understand Liam right now, didn’t understand why he was just making everything worse when he was usually the one making things better.

“Do you know,” Emma spun around and pointed an accusatory finger at Liam, “that your trap is the equivalent of having a loaded shotgun with a trip wire behind your front door? That’s illegal!” Her voice rose with her anger. “I’m a detective, I could have you arrested!”

“Someone--someone turned on the air conditioning!” Will said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Why,” he said slowly, “would someone do that?”

Emma looked at him like he grew a third head, “I don’t know, and right now I really don’t care.”

Liam watched, stony faced, as Emma turned and stormed out of the house. Killian turned to follow her, then paused and looked back at Liam, “Bad form, brother.”

“Swan, Swan please,” he caught her arm before she made it to the patio steps. “Emma,” that got her to pause and turn around. She kept her eyes averted but didn’t pull her hand away. “Look, Emma,” he sighed, “I am so, so sorry. Liam, he’s--well he’s been under a lot of pressure lately and--”

“Stop,” Emma shook her head and raised her eyes. “I’m just,” she paused, then gave his hand a small squeeze, “I’m glad it wasn’t you who did this to me.”

“Never Swan,” bringing her hand up to his mouth, Killian pressed a kiss to his knuckle. “I would never hurt you.”

I Emma I

Emma never thought that being hit with lightning could feel so good, but as soon as she had woken up she felt . . . different. Her mind was clear and she no longer felt like she was on fire. Something inside her felt settled, too, as if something had been knocked back into place. Something was different about Killian, too. She wasn’t sure what just yet, but when he’d kept her from falling back onto the floor, and how he’d cradled her in his lap so tenderly, like she was something precious, it had made her warm inside. Not hot, like she was boiling over, like she was used to, but warm. 

She didn’t give herself any time to reflect on that, though, because Liam was onto her and Glass was due to arrive. After assuring Killian that she was fine to drive home, Emma shimmered back down to her hovel in the Underworld. 

When she appeared next to her bed, she found someone sitting on it. “Hello dear,” the Seer greeted. Her red lips were stretched out into a fake smile, one Emma was all too familiar with. “Long time no see.”

“Regina,” Emma nodded her head in greeting. Pulling off her leather jacket, she asked, “What brings you here?”

“Your tonic, of course,” Regina motioned towards a chest at the end of the bed. “You were due for a refill, yes?”

Emma starred at the chest. She’d just been thinking of restocking her supplies earlier in the evening and somehow had already forgotten all about it. Shaking it off as a side effect of Liam’s demon trap, she said, “I am. Thank you.”

Standing up, Regina straightened her skirts and looked around the room, sneering at the overall dust and disarray. “I see you’ve been busy. How has your task been going?”

“It’d be going better if you hadn’t involved Glass.”

“Oh him?” Regina chuckled. She walked over to the chest and opened it, plucking out a single vial. “Worry not, dear. He’s dead.”

Emma’s brows rose, ��Already?”

“Hmm, it seemed the Charmed Ones work quickly. They caught him in some demon trap and when he was about to spill the beans about you, well,” she looked at Emma over her shoulder and smiled wide, showing off her large white teeth, “Rumple had to end him.”

For a moment Emma wondered what Glass had done to piss the Seer off so badly that she’d set him up to die. She almost felt bad for him, she realized with a start.

“Are you sure you’re quite well, dear?” Regina turned to fully look at her, her brows furrowed and her lips pulled into a frown. “Headaches again? Well, no matter, a bit of tonic will take care of all that. Here,” she pressed the glass vial into Emma’s hands. “Good luck.” And with that she was gone.

Emma stared down at the small vial. The tonic was something she’d taken everyday for as long as she remembered. The Seer made it special for her, to keep her powers strong but under control, and to keep her head from boiling over. But for the first time in her entire memory, Emma felt wrong even just holding it. Something in the back of her mind made her hesitate. 

Uncorking the vial, Emma turned it over and watched as the amber liquid inside spilled out onto the floor.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Now We Are A Fairy Tale”

I originally wrote this little one shot just after the Season three finale, when my brain was wonderfully warm and melted for a bit with the perfection of the CS movie. This is a little add-on  missing moment scenario for the end of "There's No Place Like Home" – it picks up not long after the finale's ending. Enjoy, and please please let me know what you think.

(Of course I don't own them!)

"Now We Are a Fairy Tale"

By: @snowbellewells​

It didn't strike Emma Swan fully until much later that night. Not until after she had worried and fretted with her mother over what she had inadvertently done to Regina, held and cooed at, and quite honestly, cried over holding her new baby brother in her arms, and finally trudged up the steps to the loft after the rest of her family. They were all weary and certainly ready for a good night's sleep without having to worry about Wicked Witch attacks, lost memories, winged killer primates, or yawning time portals. In fact, everyone was so exhausted that even her incredibly doting, nosey, and old-fashioned parents had not yet raised any sort of argument at the fact that she was tugging her pirate captain behind her. Henry was practically asleep on his feet at the front of their little procession with Snow and the baby, for which Emma was glad – he surely would have noticed.

Killian, however, was making quiet protest any chance he could whisper near her ear without alerting the others. "Lass, you needn't take me in like a stray pup. My room at Granny's is quite sufficient. I cannot impose on your family, and surely your parents will object."

"I don't care, Killian. You're coming," she hissed back. She didn't particularly want to have her parents go all overprotective on her, but right at this moment, she couldn't let him out of her sight either. It was amazing how simply her heart had expanded to want and need him more with every beat. As cautious and guarded as she had been, now that she had admitted her feelings, she was lit up all over in the glow of his love, and she couldn't seem to let him go for a second.

"I'll be fine, Love," he insisted as they crossed the threshold and Emma turned to magically seal and safeguard the place behind them – more out of habit than from continued necessity – and the rest of their little troupe moved off further into the house. "This is not the way things are done. For all my jesting, I am a gentleman, Emma, and I wish to court you properly."

"Really, Killian?" she smirked, arching a brow at him, half in flattered disbelief and half in exasperation. Now that she wasn't fighting him anymore, she had honestly been looking forward to really getting her hands on him.

"Aye, truly, Darling," he replied softly. Both the hushed timbre of his voice and the look in his eyes conveyed his sincerity, even without Emma using her superpower. "I wish to do right by you, and I am not sure how far to trust my control if we are to be sleeping in the same quarters."

Emma had to swallow a rather large lump in her throat at the look of hunger in his eyes while he spoke those last words, his hypnotic blue gaze practically caressing her. "You and me both, Buddy," she remarked wryly, admitting in her head that he was probably right to slow this down a bit, though the whole thing seemed oddly reversed from their usual interactions.

"What's that, Swan?" he questioned, a smirk on his face showing he already had a good idea where her thoughts had been.

Looking up at him coyly from beneath her lashes, Emma smirked right back before explaining, "I was honestly looking forward to allowing you into my quarters, Pirate. Your charms have finally won me over."

"About bloody time!" was his immediate playful retort. His eyes flashed with true relief, even as he broke into a pleased chuckle with the familiar response. Then, he was pulling her to him, the hunger flaring again in his expression when she came willingly, almost melting into his embrace. "If that's the way you feel, Princess…" he murmured gruffly before lowering his head and capturing her lips with his own.

It was as desperate and strong as it had been either of the times before. Though she had been warmly overwhelmed and almost boneless as Killian first wrapped her up, Emma was soon responding in kind, her hands clutching almost frantically at his shoulders before one trailed up even further to fist in his dark hair.

It would have been near painful, if Killian hadn't been so stirred by the show of need from her equal to his own. The little growl that escaped her throat, demanding more, spurred him on, and he delved his good hand into her soft, golden hair in return, angling her head just so to deepen the kiss further, a groan rumbling through his chest in spite of himself in response to the feel of her in his arms at last.

Tremors ran through Emma's body at Killian's reaction, still not sure how to believe someone could desire her so completely, honestly, and unequivocally. Without coherent thought, Emma realized that she was moving, drawing him along with her, heading toward the hall, to the stairs and her room. They would have made it too; she had no doubt, if there had not been the creak of a floorboard, and then footsteps on the stairs.

They pulled apart as a suspicious-looking Charming appeared above them on the stairway. His hand was still up, having been rubbing his eyes sleepily before he caught his daughter and his new friend in the midst of their first serious make out session. The Prince's eyes narrowed and his voice, though grumpy and tired, did not brook argument as he came down the rest of the steps to stand before them, studying them both with astute authority.

"I'm grateful, Hook, not stupid," David grumbled, shuffling past them into the kitchen to the sink. "Let's keep it PG in here, shall we?"

Emma couldn't help the actual giggle that escaped her upon seeing Killian's look of confusion at her father's last statement. The oddity of both her man not understanding what a movie was, nor being caught making out by her father like he should have been able to do when she was a teenager, didn't escape her and she was beaming – truly happy with everything in her life and hardly knowing how to handle so much joy.

David turned with his glass of water and gave each of them a stern, searching look. "I'll see you both in the morning," was all he finally said before moving back toward his and Snow's room. Still, his implication was clear.

"Yes, your Highness," Killian responded, giving the Prince a nod as he passed, and somehow managing to convey both respect and sardonic humor at the same time. Emma could do little more than bite her lip to hold back further laughter at the both of them and the whole situation.

When Charming had gone and they were alone again, Emma couldn't help the fit of giggles she dissolved into, one quick look at Killian's curious expression and the eyebrow he raised in question at her had Emma burying her face in his shoulder, hers shaking with mirth.

"What is it, Love?" he asked, brushing reverent fingers through her hair and chuckling with her, more at simply seeing her happy than in understanding what she found so funny.

She shook her head, glancing back up at him happily. "Nothing much," she assured him with a grin. "One of these days we'll just have to inform you of some modern world sayings, Pirate, that's all."

"So, Darling…" he murmured, blue eyes darkening attractively with intent as he leaned forward, all seriousness and innuendo once more, "where were we?"

Emma had to draw in a shaky breath to center herself and keep her body from betraying her by falling right under his spell again. She leaned away from his tempting lips and quirked a wry smile at him, clearly teasing. "I was about to make you forget that you're 'always a gentleman'," she supplied.

Killian's face registered shock for a moment, before he literally licked his lips and reached out to capture her in his arms again. "Too right, Lass," he agreed huskily.

Emma shook her head, evading his grasp playfully once more. "I think it's a good thing David interrupted us," she said hesitantly. "I was getting swept up in the moment, and I don't want to ruin this, the way I've done with nearly every other relationship in my life. Besides, they trust us, Killian…"

He gave her a doubtful look, but she pressed on.

"No, I mean it. They trust you too. And I think you value that more than you let on. Pirate reputation to uphold and all," she winked at him jokingly with that last statement.

"Emma, I would never…" he began, concern in his eyes, as if fearing that she thought he would take advantage.

She stepped forward again, bringing her hand to rest over his heart tenderly. "I know, Killian. Don't worry so much. I was the one who went a little overboard." She paused for a moment, searching his lovely eyes until she saw relief clear them. "Stay here for a second, okay?" she asked finally. "I'll be right back. There's something I want to show you."

She headed for the hallway and saw him moving in to sit on the living room couch, before she turned to tiptoe into Henry's room. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness easily with the aid of the moonlight spilling in through the window and across her son's peaceful, sleeping face. She knew what she was after and quietly crept right over to Henry's desk, where she knew her kept his prized book of fairy tales, front and center on the surface in a place of honor.

Smiling once she had it in her hands, Emma ran her fingertips thoughtfully over the curling, gilt letters on the book's cover. Without this book, Henry would never have known their story, he wouldn't have come looking for her, and her whole life now would be different. For all that she had sworn she wanted out of the crazy, magical Storybrooke world, Emma would no longer want to be in the normal world she'd had – all alone and closed off from love.

Still trying not to make a sound or disturb Henry's rest, Emma turned and slipped out of her son's room and back to the living room where her pirate waited.

When Killian raised his face to smile at her and patted the couch cushion beside him, she was drawn forward – right to his side like a magnet. Opening the large book over both of their laps, Emma could not help cuddling into his side and laying her head on his shoulder. Even just a few days prior, him wrapping his good arm around her to hold her closer and ruffle her hair would have frightened her, crowded her, felt too confining, but now she reveled in it, tipping her face up to press a kiss to the underside of his strong, defined jaw.

Killian sucked in a quick, strangled breath, and she felt him tense, bringing himself back under control. "You are sailing dangerous waters, Princess," he warned, tone carefully light, but his grip around her showing just how difficult that restraint was. With a sigh, he tried to move beyond what was simmering between them, loosening his taut muscles by sheer force of will. "Why don't you show me what you were intending to show me?" he suggested.

Emma nodded and began to rifle through the pages in the book, looking for the picture she had glimpsed only briefly with Henry earlier at Granny's. She hadn't purposefully been trying to torment Killian; the affection and greedy touching and hunger were completely new to her and nearly overwhelming. It was still surprising and difficult for her to fathom the affect she seemed to have on him without even trying. So many years of being invisible – not mattering to anyone – were not something that could be forgotten in a few days, or even months, and she could easily be stunned all over again by his devotion and care. Emma shook her head a little to clear it of so many circling thoughts, and finally landed on the story she had been seeking. Her hands ghosted over the picture still familiar from recent memory. Then, she turned to study Killian's face, making sure he understood what this meant.

She was no longer fighting it. They were real. They were true.

Killian's eyes widened adorably, leaning over the book slightly and then grinning as if his face might split in two. "Are we now in this book, Lass?" he asked, disbelief and awe in his voice.

A lump that had already been rising in her throat from earlier emotion stopped Emma's words, so she merely nodded her head 'yes', locking eyes with him and bringing her hand up to cradle his stubbled cheek. She swallowed a few times before finding her voice shakily, and then she finally managed. "We are. Or at least Charles and Leia are…" she chuckled at her own ridiculously bad attempt at thinking on her feet.

"Ah, well, those two certainly look quite happy, don't they?" he murmured, voice rumbling in her ear and sending shivers racing all along her skin.

Normally, she would be running by now – overwhelmed – but instead, for the first time ever, she wanted to stay right there. "It almost looks like a happy ending," she agreed, blinking back the tears of joy that were still trying to threaten.

"So now we are a fairytale ourselves, are we Swan?"

"Looks that way," she responded cheekily.

"The Princess and the Pirate?" he questioned lightly, jokingly trying to guess the title.

"Hmm…" Emma hummed, pretending deep thought for a second, and then she smiled at him warmly, barely resisting the urge to curl up even closer against him. "Maybe you should read it to me, and we'll find out?"

Killian acquiesced easily to her wishes, and Emma could see clearly now that it was the same thing he had been doing for as long as she had known him; striving to do her bidding and waiting for her to understand. His rich, sultry, accented voice wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, retelling the adventure they had undertaken together. Her peace and contentment were so blissfully complete that she was almost afraid to close her eyes, though exhaustion was fast overcoming her as she listened to his voice.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and Emma tried valiantly to fight them back open. Killian's fingers brushed feather-light over her forehead just then, followed by a quick, gentle peck of his lips. Carefully, he eased her down to rest her head on his thigh and stretch her legs out across the couch.

"It's alright, Emma love. Rest. I will be here when you wake."

And with those words, she finally fell into the most peaceful sleep she'd ever had, followed shortly by her pirate – both knowing they were safe… and at home.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @jennjenn615​ @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @searchingwardrobes​ @hollyethecurious​ @laschatzi​ @thisonesatellite​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @shireness-says​ @snidgetsafan​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @therooksshiningknight​ @spartanguard​ @thislassishooked​ 

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 46

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Grumpy | Leroy, Maurice | Moe French, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Merida (Once Upon a Time), Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Le Fou, Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Gus | Billy, Huntsman | Sheriff Graham, Mother Trude (Fairytale Character)

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Winner of the 2020 Espenson Award, Best Book AU.

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 46 - The Sword of Damocles

Even though Belle knew she should feel good for what she had done for Chloe and Paige, and though she knew that things were going much better for them now that they had some help, in the days and weeks that followed, Belle felt a sense of foreboding that seemed to hang over her, like a pendulum ready to swing, or a shoe waiting to drop.

It was a heavy weight to carry, day in, day out, and it made her tired - weary. She kept herself to the library in the daytime, and in the evenings she stayed home with her books and her tea. She was relaxing. She didn’t need to be out gallivanting all night long, and certainly not painting the town Rabbit Hole Red.

Or so she told herself…

She sighed and walked to the window from which she could see the road that stretched away opposite the Library, looking to see if the tell-tale light was spilling from the pawn shop window. The pavement, still damp from the earlier rain sparkled with the warmth of yellow light that danced in mockery of her reticence to contact Mister Gold. Things had been… awkward, at best, since the argument they’d had the day after the Miner’s Day Festival, and she hated it. Still, she couldn’t avoid him forever, it was almost time to pay the rent, and if she knew one thing about Mister Gold that no one would dispute, it was that he was a stickler for getting his rent payments on time.

With another sigh she turned and leaned against the wall by the window, trying to convince herself that it was ridiculous, but in the end, all she ended up doing was making herself feel more depressed. Head hanging, she walked to the kitchen, and began to fill the kettle to make some fresh tea, but something stopped her.

This was not who she was. She was a woman who could stand up for herself; could move to a new town and get what she wanted. She was a woman who saw what was wrong and made things right, and that was damn well what she was going to do!

…starting tomorrow.

Tonight she needed respite. Tonight she needed something that would take her out of these four walls, would take her mind off of all the strange dreams and feelings that she couldn’t control; that would stop her from wondering just who Trude was, and why she’d got it in for Paige and wanted to keep her trapped in ignorance and squalor. She needed to get out of her head and find her heart again.

Before she could second guess herself, she set the kettle down, turned off the faucet, grabbed her coat and keys, and walked out of the door. She would take a walk. She would clear her head with a walk through Storybrooke and to the town line, to remind herself why she had fallen in love with the place from the very beginning.

Storybrooke after the rain was chilly, but it was a fresh kind of chill, the kind that nipped and enlivened and encouraged as one walked in it. As Belle walked she realized how much she had missed by making a recluse of herself, and all for what…? A weird evening, a foolish argument, and a bitter and twisted old woman. She let out a cleansing breath of laughter.

Her pace quickened a little as she left the lights of the town behind and walked along more rural roads, past the cemetery and out onto the road that cut through the woodland. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but there was no telling when she might encounter a car coming along, and her overcoat wasn’t exactly reflective. Still, she was determined to reach the town line.

A smile came to her face when she spotted The Bend ahead; her tree would be nearby and beyond it, the town line not too much further out, but she slowed her steps and creased her face in a frown not too much afterwards. The silhouette of her tree was all wrong. It stood before her all misshapen, as though fungus had grown in nodules to stifle it from the air. Growing closer still she could see that they weren’t growths at all but book and packages and bags, which when she looked inside contained more books!

She hurried to the tree and began untying all of them. Some of the books were damaged beyond repair, water damage, the effects of wind and weather, but the others… If she took them back to the library, she might be able to salvage them.  She smiled again, bordering on laughing and for a moment forgot that she was angry, and why she was angry, and all but threw her arms around the book tree. Then, practical as ever, she reached into the pocket of her coat and drew out the collapsible shopping bag she carried everywhere with her, opened it up and filled it to the brim with the books she thought she could save. This definitely had to be Hunter’s doing, and she was going to thank him personally.

The weather, and temperature, by the docks was rather less clement than in town and Belle pulled the coat more tightly around herself as she waited in a shadowy corner of the cannery grounds. It reminded her of old times, some would say better times, but Belle wasn’t so sure. In fact now that she was waiting for him, she wasn’t at all sure that it was sensible to meet him after all.

She had almost talked herself out of it when the rumble of the big rig’s engine trembled through the packed dirt of the parking lot and up into her feet, like the growl of some great dragon, waiting to devour her whole. The analogue didn’t fill her with confidence. Remaining in the shadows she watched as Hunter parked the truck and then jumped down without setting a foot on the steps. She took a deep breath as he went inside to get the foreman and the fork lift so that he could unload.

She waited until he was done, but as he drove the last of the pallets into the warehouse, Belle slipped from the shadows, and skittered across the better lit center of the yard like a rat hurrying to avoid detection until she reached the lee of the truck, then she stopped a little way behind the driver’s door.

He saw her as soon as he rounded the truck after closing the back doors.

“Belle!” he called out and the delight in his voice almost made her feel bad for the was she had been angry with him when they met in Boston. He leaned down before she could move away and wrapped his arms around her to hold her in a tight embrace until she pushed at him, for quite some time, and then he moved away. “My Belle?”

She scowled at that, but forced herself to remember her purpose.

“I came to say ‘thank you’,” she said.

“For what, I…” he trailed off as though in realization and then said, “Oh, the books on the tree. Yes?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and reached out toward her cheek, where a strand of hair had blown loose from it binding, but she ducked away. He had no right to touch her in that way. One thing for her to do the polite thing and thank him for bringing all the books, but quite another to allow him to believe that she had forgiven him.

Hunter sighed, and Belle frowned, and then in a small and contrite voice, he confessed, “This is my last run.” He shook his head. “You will not have to worry about me bothering you any more.”

“What do you mean, your last—?”

His second sigh stopped her words before she could complete the question. “My bosses. They found me carrying… other things than their cargo inside my truck,” he said then added quickly, “Nothing bad, I swear it, but… rules are rules, and…” another sigh, “for you I might have fought, brought more books, but… instead I resigned before I could be fired, and they were going to fire me.”

“What?” she said, before her brain processed the meaning, and then find another spark of anger in his mention of the books he smuggled for her. “Oh, no. Wait a minute. You are not putting this on me!”

“No, no, of course not, my Belle, I just…” He looked down at his hands, seemed to be examining his fingernails, though she could barely see through the mist of new anger that whirled almost purple in front of her eyes. Emotional blackmail, claiming her as his… no. No it would not do. “…I want you to know that… well… above…” he shrugged, “Well… I would have done anything for you.”

“Including lie, and cheat, and goodness knows what else?” the words left her lips before she could stop them, though she didn’t really want to. She just didn’t want to be cruel. If truth be told, she did feel somehow responsible for his plight, even though it hadn’t been her books that had been his contraband this time.

The thought of that only made her more angry, not less, learning now that in spite of his words to the contrary mere seconds ago, she was little better, to him, than all his other conquests - and she had to believe there were more than just the mother of his child, because there had been many boxes on those shelves in the shed at his garden plot.

“Perhaps it is best we say goodbye, if that is how you feel,” he said calmly.

“Oh, that is how I feel,” she Belle said coldly, and tucked her hands beneath her armpits, not because she was cold, rather, to stop herself from lashing out and slapping the calm and sorrowful expression from his face. “I should go.”

“I will drive you,” he told her

Inside she growled a low, panther like rumble at the thought that he would try and tell her that she would comply with his wishes, though she merely shook her head and said curtly, “I’ll make my own way, thank you.”