#I HOPE they arrive earlier because I have a con to attend to and I wanna sell them there too

[bilolli]

LOOK AT WHO'S BEING PRODUCED!!

I'M SO EXITED YA ALL, this is the only good thing that's happening right now. asbdhahcfiaqsejak

Anyway, they'll be soon be avaiable as clear stickers and keychains on my brand new ko-fi account!

be ready :DDDD

[snowflakesnsundry]

The Embrace of a Stranger: Part 1

Word Count: 5,961

Summary: There are rumors about the Beltane celebration in the Golden Palace. It’s said it’s an event where no one appears as they are-where people of all classes and ranks mingle without the burden of status-and where the air is filled with the smell of sweat and sex.

This is your first time in attendance, and Loki has sworn he would know you no matter who you looked like. You’re nervous, but you have to trust him- and hope the man who ends up burried deep inside you is the man you are hoping him to be.

Warnings: Story is Rated R, and contains elements of mistaken identity, dub-con, public sex, free use, and just general debauchery.

Author’s Notes: So this is that fic I mentioned earlier. This thing is over 15k words long so im breaking it into parts- largely because i want to do some further editing/polishing on it. Part 2 is now up on tumblr!

<3

            The stars, and twisting colors of the galaxy in which Asgard was nestled, shimmered against the ink black sky. Brighter than usual, you wondered if it was because the moon had gone dark-fallen into shadow as if closing her watchful eye.

            With what was unfolding in the city below, you found it hard to blame her.

            For weeks now soft, pastel banners had woven themselves across the rooftops in a colorful web. All across the city they hung from shop fronts, homes, and market stalls alike; even gracing the halls rof the palace, wrapped around pillars and dangling from arches alongside floral displays- undoubtably kept vibrant by the very same magics that preserved the gardens. It was clear that the Queen had put her all into preparing the event. But oh how you wished she wouldn’t…

            You would only be able to stall for so much longer, but your fingers dug into the balustrade as you considered what must be going on down below. For a while now you had watched the silver trails of smoke lift from the rooftops and escape towards the sky; each fresh brush of night air bringing the scent of the feasts and flowers as music mingled with singing, shouting, and…

            The later it gets, the worse it will get.

            Beltane had always been a festival you avoided-for a litany of reasons- but you had at least enjoyed a tradition here and there; the maypoles and flower crowns; the lighthearted dancing and singing in a giddy welcoming of spring. But every tenth year the festival changed. You had seen it in the eyes of those around you; in the giggles that came from hidden corners as you passed, the constant -brazen- flirtation between not just the servants but the members of court. It was hard for you to tell why they even bothered.

            None of you will recognize each other anyway.

            Pressing your eyes closed you turned back into your quarters. The gown Lady Ragna has made for you lay draped across the bed you and Loki shared, it’s golden fabric shimmering in the firelight. For the first time it was something she had made without input from either of you-tradition, you were told. In fact, the thing had not even arrived until that morning, carefully packaged in black cloth so that not even the fidgety courier would know what lay inside.

            There had been a breif argument between you and Loki earlier in the day. You had begged to see what she had sent for him-promising to show you what had been sent for you in exchange. It would be a way for you to recognize one another- something to temper the nerves that had you shaking from head to foot- but he had refused. He had smirked at you, promising he would be able to recognize you no matter what- that he would never let you attend this on your own.

            If Loki left you alone, you would kill him yourself.

            A trembling finger reached to trace the soft fabric of the gown. If you could call it a gown. It looked more to you like loosely joined strips of fabric. This was not to say it hadn’t been crafted with Ragna’s usual polish and care, but your nerves had long since got the better of you.

            Every ten years-when this celebration occurred- the attendees of the Palace’s Beltane event were expected to all dress in a single color. What color that was shifted from year to year, rotating between the banner colors of the members of the royal family, landing this year on the Queen’s signature gold. Anonymity was the cornerstone upon which the event was built-it would not be what it was without it- and so uniformity of color was just one more level added to ensure no one could recognize who they walked among.

            That, in and of itself, was a bit of a blessing-because you did not know how you could continue on if anyone saw you like… this.

            You brushed your fingers across the gold band that would wrap around your neck. Etched with great care, twisting patterns wrapped around gems of yellow topaz that were sure to catch the light. Two chain links hung from it-about where you would expect your collar bone to be- a long strip of gold fabric hanging from each. Were you not so horrified that this was all there was to the top of your gown, you might have marveled at the cloth Ragna chose. You had worried what she would provide you might be a gaudy sort of metalic- the kind of fabric that would stick to your skin and chafe all through the night; but this? It was soft-cool to the touch- and pooled delicately in your hand.

            Almost as if it were made up of a million tiny links of chain. 

            Though it glittered under the touch of firelight, it was subtle- gentle. You were equally glad for how cool it was to the touch; because if the rumors were true, the heat from entangled partygoers might boil you alive.

            Cautiously you undressed, not daring to look in the mirror as you did so. The collar opened easily-a perfect fit around your neck- and you slipped the small latch that held it closed into place, praying it wouldn’t come undone.

            When it had arived, you had been a bit offended Ragna had also sent along instructions; but as you held the strips of fabric in your hand you were incredibly grateful they were not just written, but illustrated.

            Left strip to cover the right breast, right strip to cover the left breast. 

            The strips crossed one another right below the dip where your sternum met your clavicle, broadening just a bit to cradle each breast before tying togeather at your back. It was the sort of outfit beneath which you could wear no underthings- a major concern when you had first seen the gown- but you should have known a few enchantments could fix a myriad of problems.

            Something to ask Loki about later.

            To your releif each time you adjusted your chest, the fabric molded to it-holding it in place without any rigidity or discomfort. It made you wonder why she hadn’t made all your dresses this way.

            Small comforts asside, you still had the skirt to face. It too was set with a gold band-engraved and set just as the collar had been. To your dismay, you realized was the wrong size to fit your waist- but just the right size to rest about your hips. The fabric here, at least, was more recognizable as a skirt- though the double slits on its front ran so high that the place where the fabric joined was hidden beneath the golden band. Just as cool and mailable as the first piece, it fell smooth over your backside; pooling about your ankles in a way that let you know the heels Ragna provided would be unavoidable. The strip of fabric that ran down your front was not nearly as wide as you had hoped; and just like the top, it left no place to hide underthings.

            A few items had been provided as well- decoration for this ‘gown’- and whose instructions you were equally grateful for. A broach, carved from some honey yellow stone you could not name- had been shaped into a flower that bloomed up between the curve of your breasts. From its base hung a chain of gold that fell loosely over your exposed stomach- a second gemstone carved to look like a seed attatched to its end, weighting it to swing like a pendulum across your skin.

            You were happy to learn that the heels you had been provided were remarkably comfortable-which left you with only one last task before you left for the night.

            Upon your vanity sat a single glass bottle, filled to the top with a liquid that glowed a soft red in the darkness. Loki had taken his with him when he had departed- opting to prepare in an unoccupied guest chamber after deciding he could not trust you not to peek. You could still feel the kiss he had left upon your lips as he swore to you there was no reason to worry. He would find you; he would know you anywhere. Everything would be fine.

            As you sat before the mirror you decided you wouldn’t look at your reflection until the potion had been downed. Perhaps then you would be less anxious about how you appeared. The taste was cloyingly sweet. Wrinkling your nose, you tried to swallow down any of the taste that lingered on your tongue, but you feared it would be quite some time before you were free of the taste.  

            In seconds you felt the heat spread across your body, the prickle of magic against your skin raising the hairs on your arm as it traveled through you. The sensation was not comfortable, but you had endured worse. With eyes pressed shut you waited until the sensation passed; only then lifting your eyes to the mirror.

            Seeing someone elses’ face in place of your own was beyond jarring. You looked nothing like you had before-the potion changing everything from the features of your face to the curve of your hips. The person in the mirror was someone new- and oh was she lovely.

            Your cheeks warmed as you ran your fingers through your hair. What was there before had changed into long waves of jet-black hair- a feature strikingly reminiscent of Loki. It sparked a glimmer of hope that this might make it that much easier for him to find you.

            Something about the familiar strands made you want to style it with great care. It would make you later still, but in the back of your mind you almost hoped you could stall long enough to miss it entirely.

            And yet…

            As your fingers worked braids into your hair, your mind wandered. The festivities in the city could get quite… lewd; but if rumor was to be believed, it was nothing compared to what went on within the walls of the palace. How much rumors could be trusted, you couldn’t say, but if they could…

            In your head you could hear it-the cries of pleasure and the strike of flesh against flesh rising high above the chatter in the corrination hall. Nobles, servants, and soldiers alike tangled in one another- never to know who they had spent their night in or on. A shiver ran down your spine, and you tried to ignore the way you found it not entirely unpleasant.

            ——

            You hadn’t the faintest idea how long you stood at the end of the corridor, eyes trained on the door leading into the coronation hall in which the event would be held. You could hear it, feel it, smell it even from so far away. You could feel your pulse hammering across every inch of your body-anxiety fighting with the unexpected heat you felt building between your legs.

            Perhaps that heat only made it worse.

            The smell of wine, fruit, and sweetened bread mingled with the sharp tang of sweat and sex. From where you stood you already had felt the temperature rise; and though the singing and chatter within carried across the air, it was the cries of pleasure and unrestrained moans that stole the entirety of your focus.

            This is what you get for arriving so late.

            Any tame moments that might have eased you into the evening had long since passed-and you knew what waited for you inside.

            You have to go in.

            But your feet wouldn’t move.

            Hovering, you could feel the eyes of the guards stationed at the door; and you wondered if they resented being chosen for this shift. Now and then a giggling couple would bump into them as they stumbled from the hall-slipping away to enjoy one another privately as opposed to publicly.

            You swore beneath your breath. Why were you so nervous? It wasn’t as if you had never seen a nude body before, and you weren’t some untouched maiden- so why did your heart continue to hammer so?

            As you shifted on your feet, you felt how slick it had become between your thighs.

            It’s not fear you’re feeling…

            You shook your head. You wouldn’t think of it; you wouldn’t pitty yourself or hover outside the door as the soldiers watched you standing there. You would enter with your head held high-find Loki- and get through the night unscathed.

            You shoved down the little twinge in the back of your mind that felt something like disappointment.  

            Briefly you took comfort in the idea that, if there were soldiers on duty, their Captain would likely be similarly occupied. Of all the people you did not want to run into at a festival such as this, Baldur was at the very top of your list; but the idea of his absence made the room seem safer- so you grabbed hold of that little bit of courage and took your first step- just as you heard a voice speak up beside you.

            “Finally found your courage, have you?” The abrupt interruption had you nearly leaping from your skin; you had to slap your hand across your mouth in order to stifle a scream.

            Irritably you turned to the man who now stood beside you, faltering as you looked up into a pair of wild, glimmering eyes. He was tall, his long blonde hair hung about his shoulders, a few silken braids woven to frame his features and keep the strands out of his face. His eyes were a rich brown, and they shone as they reflected the glittering gold dancing in the firelight.

            He did not hesitate as he placed a broad hand on your lower back, his fingers spreading delicately across your skin. His smile was soft-kind- as he ran his thumb over the curve at the base of your spine. “It can be quite intimidating-I nearly lost my nerve the first time I attended, but once you’re inside it’s not nearly as overwhelming as you might think.”

            You stared at him, shocked by how casually familiar he was with you, and yet unable to shake the feeling of familiarity that he stirred.

            He pulled you closer and you caught the faint scent of dust and steel.

            Every bit of tension that had built up in you-every knot that had twisted its way into your muscles- unraveled in an instant; the fear you might never find him fully washed away. Your whole countenance brightened, and you sank into him as he pulled you close. He pressed his hips firmly against yours and you allowed your hands to settle about his waist.

            A warm, ochre yellow, the wrap shirt he wore fit loosely- the V formed by the two sides of the shirt dipping nearly all the way down to his waist. He had bound it loosely, the knot of its band resting just above his hips. The pants he wore were just as loose as the top- shifting about him with his every move, and thin enough to make you painfully aware of what rested just beneath.

            Almost on instinct your fingers crept to his bare chest, wandering freely across it as you lavished in his embrace. “I must admit, I do feel a bit uneasy entering alone,” a coy grin slipped across your features, “but if I could find someone to acompany me…”

            His eyes flashed, and you felt him stiffen against your hips. He had begun to move his fingers slowly across the skin at the base of your spine, and you let out a soft sigh as you felt them journeying further down than up. “Well then, good Lady,” he said with a wry grin, “I would be delighted to serve as your companion and… entertainment for the evening.”

            An electric current seemed to pulse across your skin. “How shameless,” you purred. “Were you any more eager I might think you have been out here waiting for me.”

            Hunger burned behind his eyes sending another jolt through you. Despite the heat growing within you, his touch felt warm as he brushed his knuckles across your cheek. The hand at your back slipped lower, and you hummed gently as it slid over the curve of your ass. His scent consumed your senses as he leaned in, lips brushing against the curve of your ear. “Darling, I think you are exactly who I have been waiting for.”

            Your breath wavered, fingers curing against his chest. Suddenly it seemed so obvious why he proclaimed he would be able to recognize you no matter what; everything about the man in your arms was so familiar. You recognized the way his fingers brushed your skin, the curve of his grin-even the cadence of his speech was familiar; and he had waited for you.

            “Well then,” you whispered, breathless, “I would hate to see the efforts of such a charming creature go to waste.” His growl of approval only served to worsten the heat growing within you.

            “Well then,” pulling back, he offered you his arm-as if just moments ago he hadn’t been pressed against you… “Tonight, you may call me Vidar; what might I call you?”

            You tried to force down a smile so you might match the gentlemanly demeanor he had decided to adopt-at least, for now. Each invitation had come with a name- one different from your own that you would go by until the spell wore off at daybreak- and you had to dig through the back of your mind to find what had been written on your page.

            “Sigrid.” You slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, unafraid to keep him close. ‘Vidar’s hand slipped atop yours, interlacing your fingers as he gripped you tight.

            “Lady Sigrid,” he announced with a grin, “I promise you will not regret your choice. I will do everything in my power to ensure this is a night you will remember.”

—-

            What lay beyond the doors was breathtaking in more ways than one. The event hall was already grand without a single bit of decoration, but what unfolded before your eyes went beyond the pale.

            “Nines…” you muttered, holding a little tighter to your companions arm.

            Before you sprawled a single, long table that boasted every sweet thing you could imagine. Wines, fruits, sweet breads and the like filled every possible space until its wooden surface was invisible to the eye. Were it not for the towering figureheads at each end you might have guessed it didn’t exist at all- and the remainder of the room would only lend credence to that.

            Above your head was not a ceiling, but an intricate mosaic of blooming flowers arraigned to mimic the night sky. Trees grew, reaching up towards the fragrant sky with branches dotted by violet petals and leaves of emerald green. Beneath their canopies sat lavishly upholstered chase lounges, each one seemingly wide enough for at least two partygoers to occupy.

            And occupy them they did.

            Face burning you turned instead the veritable maze of gossamer curtains colored delicate pastel versions of the royal colors. You did not need to see within them to know what they were for.

            You were pulled from your thoughts as the strands of Vidar’s hair brushed against your cheek. “Don’t take it in all at once,” he whispered, his breath hot as it wound around your ear. “We can explore one thing at a time-and if any of it catches your fancy…”

            You squeezed his arm, turning to meet his eye -something that seemed to catch him just a bit off guard. “Thank you,” you replied, stifling a laugh as you leaned to press your forehead to his “I suppose if I never quite find the courage to enjoy you here,there will be plentywe can make up for back in your quarters.”

            His breath shuddered as he pulled cautiously back. “Be careful what you say, girl; or I might find it quite difficult to keep myself restrained.

            Fire coursed across your skin as you felt your eyes go wide. “P…Perhaps we start with a drink, then.”

            Something wicked flashed in his eyes, the corner of his mouth curling upward into a downright predatory smile. “That, I believe, is the perfect place to start.”

            Togeather you descended the few stairs that separated you from the golden crowd, plunging into sea of revelers and all the sensations that would come with it. Food and wine mingled with a delicate incense-no doubt selected to mask the scent of sex that hovered in the air; but it was to no avail. Those around you seemed to wander about in various states of undress, hands wandering freely between strangers that would never know eachother’s names.

            “Do you have any preference with wine?”

            You looked at Vidar with a frown. You were certain you had discussed it before- but then again, it had been months since you were free to drink when under the court’s watchful eye.

            Perhaps he’s just forgotten.

            “Something with some bitterness to it,” you said, “too sweet and it will make my stomach turn.”

            “Ah, it would be a crime to put you out of commission so early in the night.”

            You laughed as he kissed your hand, vanishing into the crowd as he sought a glass for you both.

            Alone, the racing thoughts in your mind began to fade. The initial shock had worn away, and as you allowed your eyes to wander found yourself glazing over nude forms without a second thought. Couples beneath the trees seemed nothing of note, and there was an odd sort of freedom you doubted anything else could replicate. Without the burden of titles and names they were no one- but in the arms of a passing stranger they could spend a night at the center of their world; becoming a strangers everything.

             And if you left it at that, the night might have progressed rather uneventfully; but what stood at the end of the maze of curtains was impossible to ignore.

            There were large, upholstered platforms -somewhat reminiscent of a bed- stationed at regular intervals. By your estimation five individuals could lay comfortably upon it- so long as they were tall enough to make it there.

            The legs were abnormally long, and you realized with a flutter in your stomach that they seemed to be about waist high. Pillows of a number of sizes and shapes were strewn about, likely to be used by whoever opted to… perform.

            Golden fabric lay strewn across the stone floor -discarded by those who occupied a suprisingly large number of the beds. Though watching crowds obscured your vision, you could hear the cries of pain and pleasure shouted unhindered toward the sky. Your mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry.

            You tried to tell yourself you weren’t curious about what was happening- that you didn’t need to see what elicited the cheers and lewdencouragement from those watching and waiting. Chewing at your lip you felt your breathing shift-becoming quick and shallow as something in your core began to burn. Between your legs you could feel the eager swell of your cunt despite your efforts to direct your attention elsewhere. Your hands fidgeted restlessly, and before you knew it your legs were carrying you toward the circle that had formed around one of the beds.

            Several individuals lay stretched upon it, their bodies writhing with every touch and thrust their partners provided. They seemed to move from partner to partner like honeybees to flowers; slipping fingers, tongues, and cocks slick with cum in and out of whoever they pleased.

            Who were they? How did they find themselves laying there?

            Your mind placed you there atop the upholstery, Loki burried between your legs- his thrusts so desperate inside you that they would make the whole platform shake. You wanted the sting of his teeth against your skin, the cries of others in your ears, the heat of…

            Your stomach flipped and you lost your nerve.

            Quickly exiting the ring of spectators you felt the subtle urge to flee- or at the very least, move- but you reminded yourself that you did not want to get lost in the crowd. Restlessly you pulled at your fingers, wondering what might be taking him so long.

            You could wait. You would be fine.

            And still, your eyes were drawn to those waiting crowds.

            It was as if you had drifted into a haze, the fog in your mind dulling the sounds and smells of the swarms around you until two observers stepped back from one of the circles-offering you a glimpse at what lay beyond.

            The looks of pleasure upon their faces stirred something deep within you. It wasn’t just the expressions of those on display, either- it was the look of desire; of insatiable hunger painted across the faces of those who looked on. As the space closed you noted how many had their hands beneath their clothes, pleasuring themselves to the melodies of lust that continued to play.

            Again, that heat within you stirred. Everything that lay before your eyes seemed to vanish in favor of the fantasy that played in your head. What would they do if it were you splayed out before them. Would they stroke themselves at the sight of your bare form? Would they revel in the way each touch-each forceful stroke of Loki’s cock- would make you sing? Would they want you for themselves? Would you let…

            No. No no no you cannot…

            But why, you wondered. There were none here to judge you, and not a one of them would know who you are. You could lay yourself at the mercy of every last soul in Asgard and come tomorrow, they would be none the wiser.

            But if Loki doesn’t feel the same…

            Even in the haze of your lust you were willing to accept he might not take kindly to watching those who were eager and willing as their touch explored every inch of you. Watching them sheathe themselves inside you. A shiver coursed down your spine, leaving you shaken as you tried not to watch on.

            “I see something has drawn your eye.” You could hear the smirk in his tone. Low and gravely, his voice slipped across your consciousness, inflaming your desire even further. An involuntary whimper slipped free of your lips, your hand reaching back as you sank your fingers into his shoulder- desperate not to let your legs fail you.

            “That bad, is it?”

            Your grip tightened as he slid his fingers delicately over the exposed skin of your stomach-his touch so hot it burned against the midnight air. He wrapped himself firmly around you, his knee wedging between your legs before he sank his teeth into the curve of your neck. A strangled cry escaped you before your hand could clap down over your mouth.

            “Lo… Vidar, I…”

            “Before you say a word,” he growled, his hips rolling against your backside, “know I don’t want to hear the word ‘sorry’, nor do I want to hear you say ‘I can’t’ without providing me with good reason.”

            You swallowed hard. “And what would qualify as a good reason?”

            “I’m not cruel, girl,” he chuckled, “tell me honestly that you don’t want to- that it holds no interest to you- or that it would cause you undue pain.” As he spoke, a hand began to slip down past the golden band at your waist, his broad fingers inching asside the strip of fabric that shielded you from the world. “But be careful, good lady- because it will not take much to know you are lying.”

            Cool midnight air drifted across your exposed cunt, Vidar’s fingers following close behind. All you could do was whimper-clinging to his arm as the heat of his hand reached down to cover all of you. “Go on then,” he growled, the heel of his hand beginning to press ever so slightly against your clit. “Tell me what it is you need. What it is you want.”

            Oh no…

            Your head was spinning now that you could feel his hands on you. Closing your eyes you sank into the pleasure stirring at your core-your mind devoid of any thought but his touch. “I don’t want you to be angry,” you whimpered between increasingly heavy breaths.

            “And why would I be angry, my dear?”

            You scoffed lightly, “I don’t quite know if you’re the type to… share.”

            The sudden throb of his cock where it was pressed to your backside suggested otherwise.

            When he withdrew his hand you whined in protest, but he took your hand-pulling you along before you could say much else.

            The pulse already pounding in your ears became almost deafening as he pulled you towards one of the far beds- using his size to push through the large crowd until he pulled you through to the very front.

            Your eyes went wide.

            She looked exhausted. Her chest heaved, her fingers clambering for purchase on whatever they could find. Her hair was a tangled mess above her , every inch of her skin slick with sweat, saliva and cum. Between her legs stood a broad-shouldered man- his form bent over her, gripping her hips as he drove himself so violently inside her that each thrust caused the platform to shake.

            And all the while, she sang. Cries of pleasure greeted every clap of his skin against hers, the expression on her face seemingly locked in a perminant state of bliss

            It made your heart race, your face burn, your stomach flip and flutter in ways you did not quite know how to handle. When you tried to turn your eyes away you felt Vidar’s fingers dig into your cheeks and chin. His breath was in your ear as he forced your eyes back on the woman before you, writhing in pleasure. “Don’t look away- not until you’ve told me the truth.”

            So long as your eyes were open, you knew you could not look nowhere else-and something about it let your body settle in and embrace the pooling heat between your thighs. When your legs began to falter, he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you up as he pulled you tightly to him; a move that only seemed to make matters worse.

            So to speak… 

            You could feel him- the swell of his cock pressed firmly against your back. You could feel the slight shudder that came with each exhaled breath, the heat radiating from his body. Once more you felt his knee wedge itself between your legs, parting you just enough for his fingers to explore.

            Once more the front panel of your skirt was moved asside- but this time he lifted it fully, wrapping the cloth around your back before tucking it into the golden band about your hips. When his touch settled gently against your clit, you could see the curious eyes his gesture had drawn.

           Without meaning to, you met the gaze of a pair of striking blue eyes. Bright and clear they seemed to stare so deeply into you that you may as well have been already rendered bare. Those eyes had once been locked on the woman before him, but now? Now they were locked on you.

           As you squirmed, he held your gaze.

           “So eager,” Vidar sighed, lavishing his tongue against the delicate skin of your neck. “But I wonder, is it just curiosity that has so… riled you? Or perhaps…” his finger lifted from your clit to settle as far back as he could reach on your folds. “Perhaps it is envy.”

           Slowly he slipped his finger between your folds- already so slick that there was almost no resistance. You cried out in pleasure and agony as his finger dragged torturously slowly from back to front- warm and wet by the time it slid across your throbbing clit.

           “Good lady?” You could hear his grin. “Is it really envy? Do you see the way he takes his pleasure from her-without anyhesitation?” You whimpered in reply. “Tell me then, in your own words… tell me how you want to be her.”

           Eyes still locked straight ahead, your vision was filled by the scene before you. Vidar’s finger ran through your folds over and over as wild pleasure made your head spin. Table still shaking, you watched as the man burried inside her falter-his stroke losing its rhythm as his shoulders began to tighten.

           Oh…

           With each erratic thrust he chased his climax, his moans rising in harmony with hers as they both sought their high.

           Tell me you want to be her…

           Weight collapsing onto his elbows, you watched the man’s head fall to the mattress beside her - her hand rising to cradle the back of his head, her fingers twisting into his sweat-soaked hair. You couldn’t hear what they whispered, couldn’t see where he had pressed his lips into her skin- but as he pulled himself from inside her and stepped away, you could see what he had left behind.

           A slow, thick ribbon of white dripped from her cunt to pool on the floor.

           “Goodness,” Vidar teased, “for something like that…” he rolled his hips against yours, pressing you against his finger just enough to hint at the promise of slipping inside, but nothing more. “It takes more than one man to leave a mess like that.” His words settled inside your mind, thick and sweet as honey. “How many would you guess shes had? Five? Ten?”

           “Vidar…” More eyes were upon you as you gasped his name. Hungry expressions watched and wondered if you too would soon be on display. 

           “I might guess a little closer to twenty. You might be too short to see, but from the looks of the floor? That is not the first time so much has slipped free.”

           The sound you made was neither moan nor desperate cry- it was need, a primal, deep-seated desire that basked in the eyes trained upon you. Nails digging into the skin of Vidar’s arm, you hoped the words you were trying to force from your mouth came through as actualwords.

           “I’ve struck a chord, haven’t I?” You nodded eagerly, grinding your hips into his hand- your body aching with the need to have something burried inside you. As the next guest stepped forward to claim the beauty splayed across the table, you felt something akin to… disappointment.

           “Y..yes…”

           “Then say it.” His finger rested motionless at your entrance, his fingers sliding from your chin to wrap tightly around your neck. “Tell me you want me to fuck you- that you want them to fuck you.” Your shaking legs began to fail you, only serving to tighten the grip around your neck as your falling weight sank his finger one knuckle deep inside you.

           Nothing could have held back the moan that resonated in your chest. “Please… please- I need something inside me… someone inside me…” These words were ones you would have never expected to utter; not in a place like this. Not with so many eyes upon you. Yet your mind was so addled with desire that you spoke them through shaking breaths- unafraid and unashamed. “Fuck me… let them fuck me…please…”

           There was no reason you could find not to. He seemed as aroused by the idea as you were and, when the sun rose over the city, the only ones who would know what had transpired would be you, and Loki.

           Enjoy it.

           It would be ten years before such a chance arose again

CONTINUE TO PART 2

[dollycas]

Sunday Salon / Sunday Post – A Week in the Life of Dollycas – Weekly Rewind – New Arrivals

The Sunday Salon is a Facebook group that has become an informal week-in-review gathering place for bloggers. It is also a place to share our thoughts about things of a bookish nature. You can also link up weekly on Readerbuzz. The Sunday Post is a weekly meme hosted by Kimberly @ Caffeinated Book Reviewer ~ It’s a chance to share news~ A post to recap the past week on your blog, showcase books and things we have received, and share news about what is coming up on our blog for the week ahead. HAPPY SUNDAY EVERYONE! It was a busy week around here with book reviews and book tours. I am going to need to clone myself soon. There are just not enough hours in the day to get everything done, but I do love it. I had been feeling so tired of late and going to bed earlier and that has cut into my reading time. I overslept one morning until after 11 a.m.! Mr. Dollycas let me sleep and I appreciate it because I did feel better but I felt behind the rest of the week. I had a med check appointment recently with my primary and all my numbers looked good. I thought the older I got the less sleep I would need but that clearly isn't true in my case. We were unable to attend Thomas's soccer game this week due to the early start time. The little soccer star scored 2 goals.  I am so upset I missed them. He only has a few games left with one at a later start time. I plan to be there to catch every minute. I am so proud of him and how he has continued to improve every week. It was Cardinal football on Friday night and it was homecoming. The team dominated winning 46 - 0. Kaden did play, not as much as we had hoped but he dominated on his own making some great tackles. It never gets old hearing "Kaden ... on the tackle" or "Tackle made by Kaden . . . " announced from the press box. Or seeing his smile when he comes off the field. Or the intensity on his face as he waits to take the field. Remi played last night and he played last Saturday too. While we were wedding dress shopping Mr. Dollycas and Remi's dad went to watch Remi play. These pictures are from last week. They won 36 - 0. Remi is #21. I will share pictures from tonight next week. How was your week? Weekly Rewind - September 9 - 14, 2024 Monday - My Reading Itinerary Monday! – Week #37 – 2024 Plus - New from Victoria Laurie – A Ghoul’s Gotta Do: A Ghost Hunter Mystery #Giveaway Tuesday - French Quarter Fright Night (Vintage Cookbook) by Ellen Byron #Review / #Giveaway – Great Escapes Book Tour @ellenbyronla @severnhouseimprint Wednesday - Cozy Wednesday featuring The Grim Steeper (A Witches’ Brew Mystery) by Gretchen Rue #Review #HardcoverGiveaway @crookedlanebks @sierradeanauthor Thursday - Undercover Babymoon (Unde(a)Feated Detective) by Karina Bartow #Review / #Giveaway – Great Escapes Book Tour @karinabartowauthor @thewildrosepress Friday - Kensington Cozies – Cozy Con South @KensingtonBooks @mcintyresbooks Saturday - Ashes on the Wind: The Love Story Behind The Crime of the Century by Brandy Purdy #Spotlight / #Giveaway – Great Escapes Book Tour Plus - Tallowed Ground: A Magic Candle Shop Mystery by Valona Jones #Spotlight / #Giveaway – Great Escapes Book Tour @ValonaJonesAuthor @MaggieToussaintAuthor Big Trouble on Sullivan's Island: A Carolina Tale Kindle Edition by Susan M. Boyer is on sale for $0.99. Read the full article

[thefanficmonster]

will you do an oompaville x reader.? like maybe one where you’re at a wedding with him and he asks you to dance.?

Omg an oompaville request!!! I'm so grateful dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, please enjoy the one-shot 🥰

Perfect Sync

Pairing: Oompaville (Caleb) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

There are certain pros and cons to being so distanced from your extended family. And I mean DISTANCED, in all capitals. I actually live in a completely different state on the completely opposite side of the US and yet I still somehow got an invitation to my cousin's wedding. To be fair, it's not that surprising, seeing as how she's the only cousin I have comprehendible memories with from my childhood. She's a really sweet girl - no, woman - and it kinda sucks that we haven't had the chance to catch up in so long.

Among the many other cons is the fact that I don't know a single person at this wedding. Not. A. Single. Person. Sure, there have been several elderly and middle aged couples who've approached me, claiming they know me and given me a huge hug, asking me how my parents were doing. Speaking of my parents, they are a pair of sneaks who avoided coming to the wedding themselves saying they were stuck with a stomach virus while they're actually vacationing in Canada. How wonderful of them, don't you think?

They are chilling in Canada and I'm over here boiling and sweating over my third, possibly forth glass of champagne of the evening, not to mention the wedding hasn't even properly started yet. Count on me switching to whiskey when it does.

Sitting at the table I was pointed to upon arrival, I let my gaze skim over the immense garden decorated with beautiful flowers, fairy lights and handmade décor pieces. Each table and bar is under a white tent, just like the one I’m currently sitting under. It’s a beautiful sight and I can only imagine it’s only gonna get even prettier when the sun finally sets completely and all these fairy lights come on. That’s one of the few good things about my attendance at this event today. The ‘good’ things have been so little in number I can probably count them on the fingers of one hand: 1.I briefly saw and chatted with my cousin who was practically trembling out of excitement, anxiety and happiness. Good for her; 2. I’ve downed so many drinks that would probably cost me a fortune at a club or bar and I’m decently buzzed. Very cool; 3. I made friends with one of the bridesmaids because I had time to kill - turns out she wanted to be at this wedding as much as me: not at all; 4. I caught a whiff of the dinner which was still being cooked and damn am I excited about it; 5. The garden is absolutely breathtaking and it’s a sight worth sticking around for. See, as I said, few enough good things to be able to count them on the fingers of one hand.

And what about that cute guy from earlier?, my subconsciousness nudges me teasingly, causing me to almost evidently roll my eyes.

The hot guy being referred to right now is the one I damn near ran over when I was pulling up to this fancy estate. In my defense, I’m still getting used to the rental car I got when I landed in Texas two days ago, and plus he came out of literally nowhere. Luckily, he wasn’t mean or upset about it, took it quite lightly which was relieving and surprising. 

Not gonna lie though, he was really cute.

I see the people all over the garden hurriedly take a seat when it gets announced that the newly weds are about to have their first dance. I cross my legs, finishing the champagne in one go before I can focus my attention on the lovely couple that’s just stepped out of the mansion-like house and onto the soft grass of the lawn, slowly making their way towards the center where they’re supposed to have the dance - aka where everyone will be dancing afterwards too.

Everyone but me, I’ll be busy chilling by the bar, hopefully in the company of that bridesmaid who I can crack jokes with without feeling guilty.

The two dance in perfect sync, their movements almost mesmerizing to the human eye. I’m no professional dancer but I don’t have two left feet either, yet I’m still amazed by this perfection before me. I bet all the cash I took with me from New York - which is a lot, I expected to spend a lot - that they’ve practiced this more than once. Or at least I hope they have as to make me feel better about my own skills - or the lack thereof.

“I take it you’re a lot less dangerous when you’re not behind the wheel.“ A quiet comment emerges next to my ear, loud enough for me to hear but hushed as to not disturb the couple nor the mob of people watching them in awe.

My eyebrows shoot up. I’ve maybe heard that voice only once before but that teasing tone made me blush like mad earlier and that’s hard to forget. I have a hard time forgetting embarrassment.

Biting my lip, I slowly turn to face him, “I can’t guarantee, there are plenty of sharp objects around after all.“

There’s that same wide smile I saw earlier when my entire life flashed before my eyes. His probably did too but unlike me, he didn’t show it. “Some luck I have sitting next to you then.“ He chuckles, handing me a glass of whiskey. I take it hesitantly, giving him a suspiciously raised eyebrow. “You look like you could use one.“ He shrugs, taking a sip of his own. When my expression doesn’t change and I don’t make a move to ingest the beverage, he rolls his eyes, “Yeah I’m someone you’re seeing for the second time in your life, and yeah you might think I could want revenge for my nearly damaged health, but I don’t. And if you don’t want the whiskey...” he reaches to take it back but I quickly put it up to my lips and take a long sip, causing him to smile. “There you go!”

Oh boy does the taste of whiskey hit different after sipping on champagne for hours. I nod to him in gratitude. “Thanks, I strongly appreciate this.”

He nods back, his smile now a smaller one but still preserving the same amount of joy as when it was a full-blown grin, “I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Y/N, nice to meet you.“ I reply, feeling the tension in my shoulders easing and the embarrassed blush fading. This guy just has such a chill aura, it’s nice being in his company. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to say if I simply had to almost hit someone with my car today, I’m glad it was him.

As more and more people emerge from their seats, heading hand in hand to the dancefloor to join the newlyweds, I finish my whiskey and am contemplating on going to get myself another but before I can decide, Caleb arises from his seat as well. He takes a stand in front of me, offering me his hand, “Well, there’s very little damage you can do you me out on the dancefloor, right?” He chuckles when he sees he’s made me blush again - third time today, damn it - but then he assumes a more serious facial expression, his smile never faltering though, “Care to accompany me for a dance, Y/N?”

I pretend to think the offer over, weighing my options and its pros and cons when in reality I dam near accepted the same second he asked. “Hmm, ok...“ I say finally, resting my hand in his, “That is, if you promise not to step on my feet. These are some expensive shoes I’m wearing.“

He lets out a genuine laugh as he leads us to the dancefloor, one that I’ll admit is hella contagious, “Says the person who almost ran my ass over earlier. Am I not expensive, huh?”

I give him a confused look, hiding fits of laughter, “I don’t know, Caleb. Are you?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, best offer you’d get for me on Craigslist is like, a dollar? Two if you’re lucky.”

And that’s all it takes to break the dam holding back my laughter, sending me in fits of giggles as we start dancing. My laughter ends just as quickly as it starts though when I realize how in-sync our dancing is. Perfectly synchronized. 

Huh, wonder why, that annoying voice pokes at my peace again. But I don’t let it get to me. Not now at least. I’m just gonna enjoy this moment, dancing with a practical stranger, gazing into his warm and welcoming eyes.

Suddenly I need another hand to count the good things about this wedding since I have to add three new points: 6. Almost hitting Caleb with my car; 7. Officially meeting Caleb; 8. Dancing with him.

Dancing with him in perfect sync

Oh, shut it, I don’t wanna start blushing again.

[dreme-inc]

Can I please have a part two for my headcanons with Sophie, Tammy, Thomas, Clyde and Token please tell me if it is too much

a/n: She specifically wanted Butters added and mentioned Nichole. As I don't know enough on Tammy and Thomas, I'm writing these two instead. I'm hoping it is alright.

otherwise hello! these characters fit the prompt well, I think, so please do enjoy friend :) SP headcanons are always fun to write and read too.

A L W A Y S I N S T Y L E ⟻

I'll start by noting these guys (and the first ones) are knights. They'll defend you against anyone and anything. :)

⟼ S O P H I E

Befriended you fairly quick. Little Gray often runs into being defined by a single aspect and therefore takes the time to find out your likes and spend time with you.

Found often saying to others, "they're as great a person as they dress."

Believes you wear her clothes well, no matter who you happen to be, and says so. She loves the confidence you have in being who you are, and it pairs nicely with her assured, positive personality. Above it all, she likes you liking who you are, because she likes who you are.

+ If a science fiction, fantasy fan like her, she is absolutely willing and unashamed to match your enthusiasm. Want to attend a con? She already has tickets. ("Two. It could be a date... if you'd like.")

- Dressing up? She's there. If you happen to make clothes or buy them, she'll assist with either and a smile. Is truthfully the most happy simply spending time with you.

⟼ L E O P O L D

"H-hey! I, uh, wanted to say you sure look cute today."

Is admittedly a little shy wearing vintage outside, but happily believes and willingly puts on anything you'd hand him if you'd like. He really does trust you and wants to be a good boyfriend and all.

Once, he wanted to wear the clothes around town, and wanted you to pick. ("What d'you think looks best?") Of course you assist in finding pieces he really liked and he felt special with the attention he got that day. The one to matter the most was yours, naturally.

He wore your hat. It made him happy and his smile sure is contagious. Normally is with you anyway, him smiling makes you smile, and then he smiles and it's a cute cycle you guys have going.

+ An innocent one, so while he likes when you put anything on your lips, he's under the impression he needs to kiss you every time (like you applying balm is a sign you want a kiss from him).

- It's sweet, but you gently explain because you aren't here to take advantage of anyone, while you aren't complaining he doesn't have to kiss you every single time. He understands with an embarrassed blush and a smile... and then says, "well, I'm not complaining either."

⟼ N I C H O L E

Whether it was you or her who moved into town in your universe, she immediately liked you straight away (naming you and Kyle, if you'd like, when she was questioned by the girls). It got even better when you started hanging out.

- The reason it starts depends on your complexion. Because South Park, Cartman is the source and fast to spread rumors if you're complexions match. If not, he does try to sabotage you guys but you've got great friends and prevail. They manage to upset his system with the good rumors they spread.

Likely pays the least amount of attention in a good sort. She's aware what it's like to be different but, "it isn't the only reason why we're together y'know? It's because I like them and they're a cool person. Liking what they wear and why they're different is a part of what makes them cool."

(The above is what she told her father when he needled about you.)

+ If you play a sport or anything really, she cheers the strongest for you, whether it means it's loud because you want the world to see or quiet because you don't draw too much attention to yourself.

⟼ C L Y D E

It's funny because he's so used to the dresses and the lettermans on exes, seeing someone in these vintage suits is different. "In a good way though!" because he isn't very good at saying what he actually wants to say.

+ Likely notices you earlier if you're sporty because what. Someone good-looking who dresses well and plays well? If not, it's all good, it is likely he meets you bar his flirty persona.

He starts off a little playful but it eventually delves into something softer because he's a softie. Got you shoes in your style, of course. It's the reason they took advantage of him, and he shouldn't, but he can't stop himself. Besides...

- The first time you stole his clothes to wear yourself made him very happy. Does kind of wear his heart on his sleeve so he thinks you guys must be in it for the long run.

Possibly won't wear your clothes on his fruition and waits until you want but proudly defends you against anyone saying anything hurtful since he likes showing you off if you're comfortable with it.

⟼ T O K E N

Doesn't immediately buy you anything and definitely wants to buy you anything. He sees you aren't with him because he's rich so he doesn't flaunt it but there are perks to having such a caring boyfriend.

- Whoever you are, he's managed to pull strings on a hobby of yours without money. Do you play video games, want to visit an exclusive restaurant, or listen to music? Maybe he's got the game before it's released, a table when you both arrive, or a meet-and-greet with your favorite artist after the concert.

What you like to do is as major to him as what you like to wear. Speaking of, his style likely changes over time compared to the others in a sense it compliments it after you've been dating a while.

Like Clyde, he'd take you stealing his clothes seriously. One who doesn't enter relationships carelessly, I think, and so it makes him happy because he's very committed to you too of course.

+ He's well-spoken and mature amongst his friends. As such, he notes and tells you compliments you normally wouldn't hear especially in South Park on your lip accessories. He'll notice and like the color of your lipstick with your outfit, the shine of your gloss, or when your lips touch softer after balm when he kisses you.

[backtothestart02]

A Weekend of Firsts - 1/? | grandice fanfiction

A/N: Part 1 of my On Set Attraction series (for now). This one will be 2-3 chaps. Not sure yet. For the anon that requested an sdcc hook-up. I hope you enjoy this first part.

...

Synopsis: Grant and Candice get together.

...

Chapter 1 -

SDCC 2014.

The first real large-scale event that The Flash cast attended in preparation for the upcoming season one of their show.

San Diego Comic Con.

Candice was starry-eyed. It had been her first time attending SDCC as someone featured and not just an audience member. She’d secretly attended just for enjoyment’s sake once years earlier, but she wasn’t about to spill that. She was a little embarrassed about how nerdy she’d been, dressing up in cosplay and everything. She was putting that behind her. Now she was a real celebrity – or she was about to be.

Glancing back at Grant on the bus, she felt her cheeks grow hot and quickly turned around. She’d thought to look over to him because he, too, had never attended SDCC as part of a featured cast, but his eyes and his smile had gotten the best of her, and she hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact.

What was the matter with her? She wondered, but it was no secret to herself why her heart started racing and heat filled her cheeks whenever she caught that sexy grin of his.

She had a crush. A big one.

He was single, so it’s not like if she acted on it there would be bad fallout. But it might affect their chemistry onset, which to hear it, was some of the best the casting director had ever seen.

Electric. Show-stopping. Edge-of-your seat. Magical.

She couldn’t risk losing that by confessing her feelings. And besides, she didn’t even know if he felt the same way. His rejection of her alone might affect their chemistry if they couldn’t get past that awkward moment.

No, she was better off keeping this little crush to herself and hopefully getting over it, sooner rather than later hopefully.

She tried to find reasons not to fantasize about what the two of them together romantically might look like. She honestly did. She tried to find flaws in him. Real, honest-to-God flaws that could make her see him more as a friend than a crush.

But it was just so God damn hard.

He was such a flirt, and he focused most of his efforts of her. He’d deliberately run into things to gauge her reaction, and he’d tease her relentlessly. He was funny too, so funny that she found herself laughing long after everyone else had stopped. She’d thought he would think oddly of her for that, but when their eyes met after she’d stopped, he was only ever smiling at her, as if nothing existed for him outside of her.

They shared similar interests too – well, except for the ongoing Superman vs. Batman debate. That would probably never end. But they both loved dogs and video games. She had a few potted plants in her trailer that sometimes she’d come back to see him watering. And his two dogs, Jett and Nora, took to her right away.

They gravitated to each other easily when alone, and his first instinct was to slow dance with her in between takes. She never led him on or tried to get his attention one way or the other. He always came looking for it.

And sometimes, occasionally, she’d catch him checking out her cleavage or her ass when she knew he thought she was unaware. It made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had a thing for her too?

But she never brought it up and neither did he. The cast couldn’t be completely oblivious to their connection though. She hoped they never brought it up to anybody. The last thing she needed was for people to think she was getting attention simply because the leading man was giving it to her.

She was the leading lady though, so was it that hard to believe?

She kept herself in check as best as she could, however. And when the bus finally arrived and they filed out, she made herself focus on what the itinerary of the day was. Well, for the first day it was pretty low key. They just needed to check into the hotel and attend a couple low key events. The real slew of interviews and panels and photoshoots, autographs and more would take place over the next couple days.

Paparazzi lined the walkway, as did some fans who had heard about the show. If they got renewed for another season, she imagined the fans would multiply at events like this. Not that she was hoping for that or even needed it. She was just amazed – still – that she had gotten the part. Her talent and her chemistry with Grant had sealed the deal. She couldn’t be happier.

Once inside the hotel, they got their keys and made their way to their floor. Candice stopped at her door and was about to slide her key in when she heard Grant call out to her.

“Hey, we’re neighbors?”

She smiled tremulously and called back, “Yeah, cool!”

Cool?

She rolled her eyes at herself and got into her suite. She lay on the bed for a while, then peeked outside at the view she had. A busy street. Not the best, but they were in busy San Diego. What did she expect?

She stepped into her bathroom and turned on the shower. Setting out her clothes for the first event, she stripped down, went under the glorious hot water and soaked herself. After she was thoroughly wrinkled, she washed up, then shut off the water, dried herself off, and proceeded to get ready for their night of events.

Alcohol.

She hadn’t thought twice when champagne was offered to her at the first event or the second. She didn’t think she was anywhere near tipsy by the time the after party came around, but she did notice one thing.

Grant was flirting more than usual, and she was flirting back.

Her heated cheeks a faint memory, and her heart racing nothing to the sound of glasses clinking and toasts being made at their first day of SDCC being completed successfully.

Candice couldn’t stop smiling.

She didn’t know where the rest of the cast had gone. They’d all arrived together at the party. But now it was just her and Grant and other people they didn’t know who probably didn’t really know them, what with their show not having aired yet. It was nice to be somewhat anonymous and just having fun without a care.

Minutes ticked away into hours though, and when she looked around she noticed that the place was starting to empty.

She tugged on Grant’s arm and pulled him down to her to whisper into his ear.

“Think we should go?” she giggled helplessly, and he grinned, that sexy smile of his so close to her cheek.

Was it just her or she was getting more drunk and he was getting more sober?

“Yeah, good idea!” he declared, smiling brilliantly.

He leaned across the bar to ask the bartender to call them a cab, even though he had his phone in his pocket. Candice giggled at that but decided not to inform him of his slip-up.

“Do you have money?” she teased, yanking on his arm again and pulling him close.

Grant grinned shamelessly.

“Should I ask him for that too?” He turned toward the bartender. “Hey, dude!”

“No, no, no, shhhh!” She couldn’t stop laughing. “He didn’t mean it! He didn’t mean it!”

The bartender continued his call and then gestured towards the door when he was finished. Looping arms, Grant and Candice stumbled slightly on their way out and promptly informed the driver where they were headed. They couldn’t remember the address, but the guy knew his way around the city and was aware of where they were staying.

Candice decided then and there that she wasn’t the only one bordering on drunk instead of tipsy. Grant just did a better job of looking like he was sober. But she was too far from sober to care what he thought about her behavior. Her insecurities were gone.

After paying the driver – miraculously – Grant helped her out of the cab and they fumbled some more getting into the hotel lobby, the elevator, and finally falling out of it when they got to their floor.

“Want to come to my room?” he asked teasingly, raising his eyebrows suggestively. She couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“Sure!” she burst, and skipped down the hall with him, her arm still looped through his when he got his hotel room opened and they struggled to walk inside at the same time.

Finally they unlooped from each other and burst into the room.

“Ooo, this room looks nice,” she commented, taking a gigantic breath. “Looks just like my room!” She giggled profusely again.

He snickered.

“We can go to your room tomorrow!” he declared, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes! Aaaand…yes!”

She fell back on the large king-sized bed in the room and stared up at the ceiling. She was shocked to find her reflection staring back at her.

“You have a mirror on your ceiling.” She pouted.

He came to lie next to her after nearly tripping out of his shoes.

“You don’t have one in yours?” he asked, turning to face her.

She turned her head to face him and shook it.

“Uh-uh,” she said, and then made the mistake of dropping her gaze to his lips for a little too long.

“Candice,” he said, and he sounded really sober then it nearly sobered her up.

“Uh-oh.” She sat up quickly. Too quickly. Her head hurt. “Need more alcohol.”

She curled up and off the bed and opened the minifridge in his room where some chilled beers were located.

“Want one?” She held one out to him.

“Okay,” he said.

She grabbed another one for her and handed both to him.

“Can’t open. Too hard.”

She plopped back down on the bed.

He definitely had to be sobering up, because he easily opened both.

“Think we’ll get alcohol poisoning?” she wondered aloud.

He held the beer out to her and hesitated to drink his own. She didn’t though and so he just shook his head and laughed.

“You are the best person I’ve ever met,” he said, setting both their beers on the table.

“Oh, wow. That is really great!” She placed her hands on either side of his head. “I’ve got a crush on you,” she informed him.

“Yeah?” He sounded breathless.

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Biggest crush ever!”

“Me too,” he said back, and it really didn’t register until he leaned in and kissed her without warning.

When he pulled back slowly after she’d responded just a little, he looked deep into her eyes.

“You’re not as drunk as I am,” she accused.

He winced. “I just hold my liquor better.”

She pouted, then got a little angry.

“Were you pretending to be drunk so I’d feel better?”

She felt her insecurities rising and wondered if this was a different kind of drunk.

“No!” he insisted. “I was just being silly, having fun. Sometimes it looks like I’m drunk when I’m just having fun.”

“Oh.”

She leaned back on the bed till her head was nestled nicely on top of two pillows.

“Do you regret coming to my room?” he asked, lightly brushing some of her locks out of her face, dipping his fingers down across her collar bone and along the column of her neck.

He slipped one strap of her dress down her arm to reveal more of her cleavage and then stopped, looking at her looking at him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice raspy, and she shook her head.

“No.”

She reached up for him and pulled his face down to hers. Then she kissed him passionately and arched up against him as he climbed on top of her. She allowed his tongue entrance into her mouth and wound her fingers into his spiked, messy hair. His body felt incredible on top of hers, and she wound her legs around his, letting the skirt of her dress hike itself up.

When his hand landed on her bare thigh, she moaned into his mouth, then tipped back her head to give him access to her neck.

“Fuck, Candice, you’re gorgeous.”

She moaned louder when he found the sweet spot on her neck and sucked.

“That feels so good. Keep doing that.”

She bit her bottom lip, feeling her core soak itself through her barely-there panties.

She reached around his back, sunk her fingers into his covered ass, and pressed her body up against his, seeking more.

Then, as if he’d never been there at all, Grant lifted himself off of her and got off the bed. He retrieved a water from the mini fridge and drank half of it.

Candice propped herself up on her elbows.

“What’s wrong?”

He laughed to himself, then turned around.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m sobering up.” She hiccuped.

He came to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, but I’m not drunk at all. Not really. And I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

Her eyes widened.

“But I may not want this in the morning! I mean, I may not let myself want it.”

He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

“That’s just a risk I’m going to have to take.”

He got up and held out his hand to her.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.”

She was annoyed, more than annoyed. She was intensely irritated.

But more than both of those things, another feeling rose up inside of her.

Bile.

“Oh, God.”

She quick ran off the bed and went into Grant’s bathroom to vomit into his toilet. When she was done, she could barely stand up.

Grant wet a washcloth and wiped her mouth before gathering her into his arms and taking her down the hall to her room. He tucked her into bed, went to leave and then stopped when he heard her sigh loudly. He turned back to look at the sad expression on her face and braced himself for the words that would follow.

“I suck.” She huffed. “Don’t I?”

“No,” he said. “You don’t suck.” He managed the tiniest smile. “Goodnight, Candice. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He shut the door behind him before she could answer, and she spoke her reply to the darkness.

“Goodnight.”

She paused.

“I suck.”

[jawritter]

The Fall...

Request: Hey you! I really love your writing! I was wondering if you could do a Jensen fic with some angst and fluff. An established relationship perhaps where the reader is his wife, and she’s home alone and she takes a really bad fall and breaks a body part (you can pick which).

Warning: Injured! Reader, Jensen’s a bit of a dick at first, Angst, a little fluff, language, that’s about it I think.

Word Count: 1861

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my stuff! Feedback is gold! Hope you guys enjoy this one! 

Want more? Check out my masterlist!

******MASTERLIST*******

Being married to Jensen Ackles while never boring, wasn't always easy. It wasn't his fault though, it was the job that he had that made it hard. Your worst days were the day before he left to either go and film when you couldn't travel with him for a week or better at a time, or when he had to go to a convention or something for a weekend, and you couldn't make it for whatever reason. 

You tired to go with him as much as you could manage it, but sometimes life just didn't allow it to happen. This weekend Jensen had an upcoming Convention in Chicago, and you weren't going to be able to attend. Jensen and yourself had just moved into your dream home in Texas, and there were things that at least one of you had to be there to do. No matter how bad you wanted to go with him it just wasn't in the cards for this weekend. 

Jensen knew you hated it when you had to stay behind, that you'd rather be with him, and it stressed him out to leave you just as much as you were stressed out by staying behind. So that tended to make you both a little snippy at each other. 

You loaded up the laundry basket with Jensen's freshly washed, dried, and folded shirts that he would be taking with him to the convention this weekend. Your mind a thousand miles away as you walked up the stairs to your shared bedroom where he was packing up his things. Drifting back to the argument you had  this morning with him in the kitchen.

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

"Y/n you know if I could change the inspectors visit to another day so that you didn't' have to deal with this while I'm gone I would, but this was a hard visit to book to begin with, and if we want to be moved in by the summer I need to get this inspection done. I don't know why you're fighting me so hard on this!" He half yelled at you as he slammed his  empty coffee cup down on the counter.

"Because Jensen, what if he does find something wrong, and I have to make a decision about it right then and there, and you're not there. I don't want to sign off on something that you don't want done and I'd rather you'd be there for the walkthrough!" You yelled back at him, tears forming in your eyes.

It wasn't the whole truth and you knew it, problem was so did he. 

"Bullshit. You've done these before. Y/n it's not the first house we've bought together, you know how to make those types of decisions without me. You've been walking around here mad at me all morning, and I know your mad because I won't cancel my appearance at the con, but I've got people counting on me to be there, people that have paid a lot of money to see me, and I don't want to let the fans down!" 

You rolled your eyes at that before you even thought about your actions. Jensen's face harden as he watched you from across the kitchen, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Your voice was calmer when you spoke despite the anger rising in your chest, and the hurt that he'd put a bunch of strangers before you, when you had already gone three weeks without seeing each other, and he'd only been home for two day.

"Fine.. I see what's really important to you, go see your fans. I don't care." You said storming out of the kitchen into the laundry  to start the laundry.

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

You were almost at the top of stairs at the last step before the landing. Tears blurring your vision from thinking about your fight with Jensen this morning. You went to step, but missed. Losing your footing...

The next thing you remember was looking up from the bottom and the staircase flat of your back. The clothes you had been carrying scattered down the stairs, some lay on the ground around you. You blink your eyes as Jensen's face came into focus above you. His phone in his hand. 

"Y/n! Baby don't move okay!" He tried to sound calm, but his eyes gave him away. You could see the edge of panic in them. 

Your head was pounding, and there was a searing pain in your wrist. "What happened?" You asked him as you heard the sirens coming up the street. Jensen brushed your hair away from your face gently with his finger tips, His voice edgy as he answered you.

"You fell down the stairs sweetheart. You hit your head pretty hard, I don't know if you hurt your neck or not, but I think your wrist is broken. The ambulance is almost here Okay? Don't move." 

Pure white hot fear gripped you in that moment. Not from the pain in your wrist, or head, not even from the fall, it was the fact that you couldn't remember the fall. Like at all. In your mind one minute you were walking up the stairs, the next you woke up here.

Tears filled your eyes again as you stared up into Jensen's mossy green ones. "Jensen I'm scared, why don't I remember what happened?"

Jensen immediately started to shush you.  "It's just because you hit your head baby, don't worry, everything is going to be just fine, the ambulance will be here any second and we're going to get you fixed up okay."

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

You don't know if you blacked out or not, but the next thing you remember was being loaded into the back of the ambulance with Jensen, a neck brace on your neck. Everything felt fuzzy and strange, so you assumed that they had given you something to relax you, or something for pain. 

The ride to the hospital was a daze of movement, and fuzzy medicated dozing. You did hear the EMT tell Jensen that he didn't think you had broken your neck, but they still would need to do X-rays and a possible MRI on your head just to make sure you were okay. They would ask you questions, probably trying to keep you awake, you answered them but you really didn't know what you were telling them. When it came to pain meds you always were a lightweight. Tonight would be no different.

Once you arrived at the hospital, probably because of who Jensen was, or maybe because of a possible head injury, things seemed to move pretty fast. They brought you back and did an X-Ray, then moved straight to do an MRI. Your wrist was indeed broken, but thankfully it wouldn't require surgery.  Just a cast. They said you had a mild concussion, but nothing to be too concerned about, and you'd be very sore in the morning.  Which you weren't happy about. 

It wasn't until the drive home from the hospital that it dawned on you about the con.

You decided you weren't going to ask him about it, you figured he would just take a late flight in, so when you got out of the car you made your way in the house, you were greeted by the mess of clothes that lay on the floor around the stairs waiting for you, you had to swallow back the sob that wanted to leave you. 

This was the reason you were upset when you fell to begin with. Yes, you weren't seriously injured, thankfully it was just a broken wrist, not even as seriously broken as it could have been. Still you didn't want him to leave, for some reason you were feeling way emotional, and just wanted to be able to go curl up in bed with him and go to sleep. 

Alas you still couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stay home, or if he was still going, because that's what you were having the whole fight about earlier. It's why you were upset and not paying attention to what you were doing. So you made your way over to the basket on the floor, and sat it up right, picking up clothes with your uninjured hand. You hadn't noticed that you started crying again, but Jensen had, he'd been watching you since you walked through the door. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you hadn't even noticed him until he knelt down in front of  you and spoke.

"Sweetheart what are you doing?" He said softly grabbing the shirts away from you and moving the basket out of reach before standing you up in front of him. Whipping the tears that had slipped down your face with the pad of his thumb.

"I... I.. Have to get your ready... You will have to reschedule your flight..."

"SHHH.. Hey stop, no you don't have to do anything. For one I'm not going I'm not going anywhere. I called and told them I wasn't going to be coming. Did you really think I was going to leave you after you've spent the entire evening in the hospital with a broke wrist and a fucking concusion. No. I'm not  going anywhere. They will be able to do it without me just fine. You're more important to me than a convention. People will understand, if they don't oh well."

You looked anywhere but him. The remnants of the argument that you had earlier still lingered deep in the corners of your mind. 

"Hey look at me baby girl. Listen I was wrong early, I know I've been gone a lot. I was upset as you were about me leaving and acted like a dick. I shouldn't have snapped like that at you this morning, I should have just agreed to stay home. It obviously wasn't meant for me to be at this convention. I would NEVER put other people before you, you are the most important person in my life. If I wouldn't have upset you so much you probably wouldn't have fallen today. This is my fault. I'm sorry."

Jensen snaked his arms carefully around your waist kissing you softly on the lips. "I love you, you know that right?" He said. Nuzzling his face into your neck. Holding you close to him. 

"I love you to Jay." You said. Leaning your head down on his shoulder, just letting him hold and comfort away all the hurt feels and bullshit that had come with today. 

"Good. Now Let's get the cripple in bed, and I'm going to have to ask our contractor to add a stairlift into the new house so my little cluts wonts keep busting her ass going up and down the stairs like an old woman." Jensen teased you as he picked you up and carried you bridal style up the stairs toward your shared bedroom. You were still mildly impressed that at 42 years old he could still do that.

"Oh shut up." You said. Swatting at him playfully before as his feet made it to the top of the landing. 

Yeah, being married to Jensen wasn't easy, but in moments like this. Moments of pure chaos, it was so worth all of it. 

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

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​ @magssteenkamp​

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 7: Raining in London

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry is away, his sister is dealing with something, and a new love sparks.

Warning: SMUT (because why not?)

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link

A/N: comments are MUCH appreciated. Please give me some reviews folks.

.

.

.

Harry woke up to the sound of running water and his girlfriend’s singing in the shower. Hearing the song he had sung to her yesterday on the rooftop put a big smile on his face, but his head started pounding as soon as he sat up. That was a reminder for him to never drink like that again. Though he could remember most of the events last night, it had been quite long since he last partied like that. And God, was twenty-five really that old?

Amused by the thought, he ran his palms over his face and got up, dragging his feet to the bathroom. Y/N didn’t hear him come in so she didn’t stop singing while he stripped off his clothes and hung them up. He could see her naked silhouette through the frosted glass shower door, and seeing it first thing in the morning made him incredibly horny. That had answered his previous question. He wasn’t that old.

He pulled the door open and she snapped her head to look over her shoulder, eyes bugging out when she saw his face. “You scared me, dickhead,” she grumbled.

“Sorry, baby,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She moaned with her eyes closed, feeling his hard cock standing at attention between her ass cheeks. “You didn’t fuck me last night,” he fussed, and she shook with laughter.

“You were so fucking drunk.”

“I’m sober now...and so fucking hard,” Harry growled in her ear, grinding his shaft against her soft flesh which made her she gasp loudly. He moved one hand to her breast, squeezing it and pinching her hard nipple, his other hand cupping her chin and turning her face around so he could slide his tongue against hers. Lowering his other hand from her stomach, he squeezed his cock and gave it a few strokes before guiding it inside her dripping pussy.

She was so slick that he could just slip right in, but he knew he was big so he thrust slowly to get her used to the fullness. She tossed her head back on his shoulder, her mouth fell open as she begged him to just fuck her. And who was he to disobey? He wrapped his arm back around her waist and began to fuck her hard and fast, telling her how much he loved her over and over again. It didn’t take too long for her to shout out his name as he shot his cum into her, fucking her through it.

They fucked one more time in the bedroom and decided to take some rest before they went downstairs for breakfast. They lay naked in the tangled sheets, their legs intertwined. He was lying on his back, one arm above his head, the other draped around her back, while she was lying on her side, her head on his arm. During these moments, he loved to pretend that they had all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted, and they chose to spend it on each other alone.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when she propped up on her elbow.

“I almost forgot, Gemma was here last night.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You two made up, right?”

“I think so." He sat up with her, rubbing his hand up and down her naked back. "I’m gonna have to call her again later just to be sure."

“I agree.” She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back to reveal his forehead. “Also, Jeffrey told me to let you know that there's this event in LA for the Oscar nominees, and you have to attend."

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Noooooo!” He pinned her down on the bed. Her cry of surprise turned into laughter as he buried his face between her breasts, lying fully on top of her. “I don’t want to be away from you again!”

“I know, baby, I know." She smiled, patting his hair.

“Come with me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Please?” He pouted and nudged her cheek with his nose like a cat. “Wanna show you off, baby.”

“You know I don't like those fancy dinner parties.”

“But you’ll have me. We’ll have the best time, I promise. Leo will also be there.”

She let out a faint giggle and cupped his cheeks, turning his face back up. “You could name all of my celeb crushes and the answer is still no. I still have to attend lectures and work on my book.”

“Right, you’re officially a writer now.”

“Not yet, but almost,” she snorted amusedly, pushing him back so she could sit up.

He stayed between her legs, resting his head on her chest while she had her arms around him. With his eyes closed, he mumbled, “I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“So am I,” she said, her lips curved. “But hey, I’m only gonna baby you for two more minutes because I have classes to attend and you have a radio interview before lunch.”

He groaned, bringing his hand up to cup one of her breasts. He loved being handsy, and it never bothered her. “I think you’re even better than my assistant, Bambi.”

“That’s because your assistant sucks, no offence.”

“None taken. To be honest, I didn’t really want an assistant but Jeff insisted,” he complained while circling his fingertip around her nipple, smirking when she shuddered.

“Well, if I fail to publish my book, please fire her and hire me.”

“Then I guess I’m stuck with her because you’re gonna become the best writer in the world!”

Before she could come up with a response, he ducked under the covers, holding her legs apart and put his mouth to her clit. She cried out in surprise, yanking his head up by his hair. Seeing his moist lips curved into a cheeky grin, she couldn’t hold back a moan. “I said two minutes.”

“I only need thirty seconds,” he answered before slipping back under the covers. Y/N dropped her head on the pillow and arched her back off the bed as his skilful tongue lapped at her juices, making her toes curl and her jaw tight. Another wave of pleasure soon washed over her as his fingers glided in and out of her sensitive pussy, and she screamed his name, riding out another intense orgasm.

With a smug look on his face, he hovered above her and pressed his lips to her cheek, so she pulled him down and kissed him like she wanted to devour him.

“You’re gonna be late,” he reminded her in an arrogant tone, and she could feel his smirk against her neck. He was hard and poking her thigh again.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” she mewled with her eyes shut, hastily wrapping her legs around his waist.

.

.

.

Gemma was agitated; she kept tapping her fingers on the table while her coffee was getting cold. Another employee rushed into the shop and apologised for being late, but it wasn’t the one she’d been waiting for. It seemed like she wasn’t in luck as Emilia didn’t go to work today. She rolled her eyes, resting her chin on her knuckles as she picked up her cup and finally took a sip. At least the drink was good so she wasn’t at all annoyed.

The sound of her ringtone turned the heads of two other customers at the table beside her, so she apologised to them and quickly answered the call.

“Good to know you’re alive,” she joked as soon as Harry said hello.

“I wasn’t that drunk.” He let out a low laugh, his voice was raspy. “I called to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m very okay. Thanks for asking.”

“Come on, Gem.”

Gemma leaned back against the chair, folding one arm on her stomach. “Well, I’m still pretty pissed off. You did a shitty thing, Harry.”

“I know.”

“But I guess I can’t stay angry at my brother forever.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief was etched in his voice. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I’m very sorry, Gem.”

“Are you?”

“I am, deeply.”

“All right.” She shrugged, drawing circles around the rim of her cup. “Then you have to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to tell Mum about Winton and his daughter.”

“Wait...what?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Gem, I don’t think Mum would--”

“She would be devastated if you let her find out on her own. I was going to tell her myself but you brought this upon us so now it’s your chance to fix it.”

Harry stayed silent for a moment. She assumed that he was taking his time to weigh the pros and cons as he always did when he had to make a tough decision. Eventually, he said, “fine, I’ll tell Mum. I’ll go back home this weekend and tell her in person.”

“Good,” she murmured, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“You know I love you, right?” he said after a moment.

“Of course,” she replied, eyes fixed on the coffee cup. “I love you, too.”

They said goodbye and ended the call. Gemma exhaled sharply, quite happy to get rid of the weight on her mind, but her comfort didn’t last for long as a text popped up on her screen. She zeroed in on it when she saw her boyfriend’s name.

⌲ Asher: Where are you?

Her eyes rolled back as she let out a low groan and picked up the phone again.

⌲ London, she typed, and sent.

He didn’t take too long to respond.

⌲ Asher: Still?

Her eyes stretched wide in disbelief. She chewed on her lip, trying to keep her composure while typing down her reply.

⌲ What does that even mean? I already told u why I had to go back

⌲ Asher: Yeah, your fucked up dad and famous brother, I’m fucking tired of hearing about your family drama

⌲ Asher: My family was kind enough to invite you on this trip and you just fucking left like that

Gemma clenched her teeth, her hand on the table tightened into a fist as she reread his messages over and over again. Eventually, she put her phone on airplane mode, leaving him on read and hoping that she could finish her coffee without being disturbed.

.

.

.

Two days later, Harry flew to LA and Y/N had her first appointment with her literary agent. She arrived at Laura’s office ten minutes earlier and the assistant told her to wait outside while Laura was on the phone. Although she knew she was Laura Hilfgard’s client and the woman had repeatedly praised her book, sitting in that corridor on her own filled her up with anxiety as if she was about to go in for a job interview. She tapped her foot impatiently, scratching her nails on her leather bag and chewing on her lip. Ten minutes felt like twenty, and as soon as she heard the door unlocked, she stood right up, holding her breath.

“Y/N!” Laura appeared with a smile and nodded her head for Y/N to enter. “Come in, darling. Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Y/N followed the older woman into her office. It was the most British-looking office she had ever seen, like one of the rooms in Hogwarts, with velvety-brown wallpapers, wooden furniture, and vintage decorations on the window panes. On her desk sat a laptop, a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a cat-shaped paperweight. Laura sat down behind her desk and told Y/N to take a seat in the swivel chair.

Laura Hilfgard had the look of a Hollywood actress from the 60s, with a defined face, chestnut-colour short hair, and bold red lips. Though her appearance screamed ‘boss-lady’, there was something childlike in the way that she smiled. For someone who was turning forty-two, she didn’t look a day over thirty. She could be the cool aunt Y/N never had. And she was smart, probably in the top five of the smartest people Y/N had ever met. They started off the meeting with small talks to break the ice before they went on to discuss the manuscript. The conversation flowed so easily, like two friends chatting about a fictional couple that they adored.

Y/N didn’t pay attention to how much time had passed since she arrived, until Laura glanced at the clock and cried out, “oh dear, it’s almost lunch!”

“I’m sorry for taking too much of your time,” Y/N said, but Laura waved her off.

“No, don’t be sorry. It was my pleasure, darling.”

They exchanged a hug before saying goodbye, and Y/N left her office, dizzy with excitement. The girl almost jumped for joy when she headed out of the building, and she decided to walk home despite the darkened cloudy sky.

The air was cool and moist. She breathed in deeply with her open mouth, her hands jammed in the pockets of her coat as she dodged hurrying pedestrians who were in a rush to get home before it rained. Y/N was so confident that she would make it back to her block without getting wet, but it was never a good idea to underestimate Mother Nature. Little droplets alighted on her face as a friendly warning, and then huge bullets of rain began to beat down on her like an ambush from the sky. She managed to find shelter under the roof of a grocer’s, laughing at herself for being so stupid.

The rain poured and poured, a sight she should have gotten used to after all the years living in London but somehow she still got amazed every time she witnessed it. She wasn’t in a hurry anyway so it wasn’t a bad idea to stay and watch the rain instead of wading out in this downpour. Shifting from one foot to the other to find some comfort in her damp shoes, she pulled out her phone, snapped a photo of the opaque scene and sent it to Harry with the message: It’s raining in London.

As she put her phone away, someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around, almost bumping into Blake. The corners of her mouth slid upward as Blake faltered, raising a smile. He had just left the grocer’s, still very clean and dry.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, raising his arm to shield her face from the rain.

“I was walking home when it started pouring,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I met Laura today. I was going to tell you when I got home.”

He laughed, flashing his teeth. “How did it go?”

“Pretty well. I feel like I can’t thank you enough.”

Blake watched the rain as he wetted his lips and let out a breath. She was wondering what he was thinking about when he turned back to her and said, “you said you’d buy me dinner, right?”

“Right.” She almost forgot. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“No, but I’m free tonight.”

“But...it’s raining.”

“I live right next to you. We can just order in.”

“Oh.”

“But we’d better hurry back. It looks like it’s going to rain much harder,” said Blake as he opened his black umbrella, giving her a gentle look. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Hold on.” She put up a finger when her phone buzzed inside her bag. She hastily reached for it and checked Harry’s reply. It was a photo of the sunny cloudless sky attached to the message: Missing you in LA. She giggled out loud and put her phone back into her bag, receiving Blake’s questioning stare.

“Harry,” she told him. He said nothing as she pulled herself close to his side to fit under the umbrella, and together they stepped out in the downpour.

.

.

.

Gemma sat by the large window of the coffee shop, watching the raindrops dance on the pavement. London streets were less busy on rainy days, not that she complained though. It was hypnotic and rather enjoyable watching it pour, but only when she was dry and warm indoors, otherwise she would hate it so much. A waitress finally brought her the strawberry cake she had ordered ten minutes ago. She wasn’t craving sweet food, but if she was going to be stuck here for a few hours at most, she couldn’t take their table with only a cup of coffee.

As a few more people walked into the shop, a familiar face caught Gemma’s attention. Isaac shook the rain from his umbrella, hung it by the entrance and headed to the counter to order a black coffee to go. It was only when he took his drink and turned around that he spotted her and his face lit up. He crossed the room to her table as she got up and they shared a friendly hug. She didn’t expect to run into him, but it made sense because he was close to Emilia. He's probably here for the same reason, she thought.

“Are you here to see her?” he asked when they pulled apart.

“Yes, but she’s not here today.” Gemma lifted her shoulders, sitting back and nodding at the chair in front of her. “Wanna join me? I’ve been lonely all morning.”

“Sure.” His eyes crinkled as he grabbed a seat. “I saw you at the party the other night but you left before I got a chance to say hello.”

“Yeah well, those parties aren’t really my thing,” she replied. “I was only there for Harry.”

“You must be very proud.”

“I would’ve been prouder if he hadn’t messed up, but he’s the only sibling I’ve got. I can’t be mad at him forever.”

Isaac shifted in his chair, his shoulders tensed as he peered at the cup between his palms. Gemma was quick to notice the subtle change in his expression and let out a snort. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?” he asked, lifting his face.

“Well, I was a bit upset when Y/N told me, but I guess you just meant well.”

Isaac didn’t respond right away so she asked him what was wrong, and he said, “I have to tell you something,” a frown marking his lips. She leaned forward, her heart racing.

“I didn’t give Emilia your number,” he finally confessed. “She got it from Harry’s assistant.”

“How the hell does she know his assistant?”

“She met her at a photoshoot.”

“And the assistant just...gave out my number to someone she barely knows?” Gemma scoffed, raising both eyebrows.

“Emilia is very good at convincing people to do things for her.”

“So she’s manipulative?”

Isaac rubbed his forearms, somewhat agreeing but didn’t feel like he should say it out loud. Gemma, however, wasn’t as gracious.

“That girl is hiding something, I knew it!” she hissed, leaning back against the chair. “Do you know why she doesn’t go to work anymore? I’ve come here for three days in a row but I haven’t met her.”

“Did she know you were coming?”

“I doubt that.” Gemma shook her head. “Have you told Harry by the way?”

“No.”

“Good. He’s happy with his Oscar nomination. Let’s keep it that way.” As Gemma tilted her head to rest it upon her hand, she noticed the way his blue eyes bored into her and her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

“You’re the best sister I’ve ever met,” he said before she could ask. So she rolled her eyes, a smile lingering at her lips.

“You have a little brother right? I assume you would do the same if you were me.”

“You’re right, but I still admire you for all that you’ve been through.” He grinned. “I admire you both.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Gemma laughed, and she wasn’t kidding at all. The pink colour of her cheeks was prominent on her pale face which gave Isaac the sign that he should change the subject.

“How’s Anne?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s doing much better. We talked on the phone last night and she was over the moon about Harry’s nomination,” Gemma said and took a sip of coffee, not making eye contact with Isaac anymore. She didn’t want to mention that Harry was going to tell their mum about Winton, but then she began to question if it was the right thing to make him do.

“Good for her,” Isaac interrupted her thought. She kept the coffee spoon in her mouth as he asked, “how’s your boyfriend?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” She scoffed. “But let’s not talk about him.”

“Okay,” Isaac agreed, no questions asked.

.

.

.

When Y/N and Blake arrived at their block, the rain was letting up and the traffic was busy again. She saw a familiar car pass by and parked right in front of the building. As Blake closed his umbrella, she rushed forward without telling him why. He was baffled until he saw Niall got out of the Range Rover and caught her with both arms, hugging her tightly despite her wet clothes.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you!” She moved back, holding his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you of course.” Then he saw Blake, and his smile faded. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Blake. Blake, this is--”

“Niall Horan.” Blake stepped forward and shook his hand. “Big fan. Your music is awesome.”

Niall had no hard time accepting the compliment. He snickered and puffed out his chest, arm around Y/N. “I like this kid already,” he said, smiling at her, and that was when she knew.

“Did Harry tell you to come?” She folded her arms, leering at him.

“Harry said you might be lonely.” He gave a shrug, not even denying it.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled her eyes as she murmured, “I knew it” loud enough for both men to hear.

Blake stayed silent, so Niall had to speak, “well, I’m here now so would you like to invite me in?”

“Sure, let’s go. I live on the fifth floor,” she said to Niall, giving Blake a subtle shrug and leading the way.

Niall was born into wealth so it was very unlikely that he had been in a place like this if not to film a depressing music video. While his eyes darted everywhere in disbelief, Y/N had to hold back her laughter.

“Now I know why Harry wants you to move out of here,” Niall said, breathing hard as they stopped at her door. Y/N didn’t take offence at the remark as she knew how Niall was. Blake, on the other hand, was unable to hide his irritation with a straight face. She just knew him too well. She raised both eyebrows at him when she unlocked the door, and he raised his shoulders to reassure her that he was perfectly fine.

Their secret conversation went right over Niall’s head. He turned to Blake as Y/N pushed the door open. “Are you joining us for dinner, Blake?”

“Us?” Y/N snorted.

“Yes, Y/N. We’ll order in and call H. It’s gonna be fun.”

Y/N didn’t not like the idea, but since she still owed Blake dinner, she had to let him decide if he wanted Niall (and possibly Harry) to eat with them tonight. She looked over at him, and he gave a lopsided grin. “Maybe next time,” he said.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Y/N!” Niall brightened, completely unbothered by how disappointed Blake appeared to be. As soon as he had entered his own flat, Niall asked her, “were you about to have dinner with him?”

She stepped aside for him to come in and closed the door, pointing to the sofa. He sat down before she actually told him to.

“Harry sent you because he doesn’t trust me," she murmured while aggressively kicking off her wet shoes.

“No, no, no!” Niall raised both hands when she shot him a glare. “I only said that to piss off your ex. Harry has no idea I’m here. I promise.”

“Really?”

“I swear on my life.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Niall.”

“That’s because you don’t believe me.”

Y/N pursed her lips as she held his stare for almost five seconds, knowing he couldn’t keep eye contact with the person he was lying to. Once he had succeeded, she shrugged off her damp coat, hung it up by the door, and joined him on the couch. “So what are you doing here then?”

“Harry told me you’d found an agent so I came to congratulate you.”

“Harry is like an embarrassing mum,” she snorted, resting her head upon her knuckles. “Last night, he called my dad and they talked for hours about how proud they were of me as if I’d won the Oscar for Best Screenplay or something.”

“That’s terrible. They’re terrible people. It sucks to be you!” he grumbled and she smacked his arm, both of them laughing.

Niall ordered pizza while Y/N took a shower, then they sat on the sofa and got updates on Harry via the Instagram stories of the celebrities at the event in LA. Y/N knew her boyfriend was already too drunk to answer his phone, but from what she’d seen, he was having the best time of his life. He was dancing in one of the stories, chugging a beer in another, which made her regret that she had refused to come with him. But then she also wondered, would he still be having fun had she agreed to go with him? She stopped herself right there. She’d had a good day so far, there was no time for unhappy thoughts.

“I guess we can’t call him tonight,” Niall said while scrolling down the photos of the celebrities at the event. “God, Ruby should just fire her stylist. What is she wearing?”

“Ruby Ellis?” Y/N flinched. “Is she also nominated?”

“No, but I heard that she was gonna present an award this year.” Niall chuckled. “What? Are you worried?”

“No. It’s just...weird to think about her now.” She shook her head. “I mean, if I were there, we would probably run into her and it’d be so...awkward.”

She was quick to catch his smirk, so she asked him “what?” in a mirthful manner.

“You two are a couple,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Harry had that same look on his face when he told me about Blake,” Niall said with a beam. “It’s not the ‘I don’t trust him or her with his or her ex’ kind of look, but more like ‘I love him or her too much and it makes me paranoid for the stupidest reasons’. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and vice versa, so you’re just afraid to lose each other.”

“I guess you’re right.” She tittered, rubbing her forehead.

“Anyway, just to be clear, I came to see you. It had nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend slash neighbour, although the way he looked at you made me feel quite uncomfortable,” Niall said in between laughs.

“Yeah, you weren’t being subtle.” She nodded mirthfully.

He turned and rested his head on his hand. “I really like you, Y/N. I don’t have lots of friends besides Harry and Isaac, close friends I mean. And I really like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she told him and offered her hand. He shook it firmly with a delightful smirk. Both of them broke into laughter again. Funny how she had always believed that the best friendships were the most unexpected.

.

.

.

“...and then guess what? He told me, with a straight face, ‘there’s another bathroom on the other side of the house’,” Gemma exaggerated her version of her brother’s accent and gestures, which sent Isaac into a fit of laughter. He was laughing so hard that he almost fell off the chair, holding his aching sides.

“I’m sorry, Gem,” he said in between gasps for air, finally regaining control of himself. “I didn’t mean to laugh so hard.”

“I don’t mind,” she said delightedly. “It’s flattering, really. Not many people would think I’m funny.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. In fact, my boyfriend said he would pay me to stop telling jokes.”

The beam on Isaac’s face fell as soon as he heard. “That’s so mean.”

“Yeah…” Her lips formed a straight thin line as she stared blankly at the empty cups between their hands. “But well, I always make fun of Harry’s sense of humour, so I guess that’s karma.”

This time, he didn’t laugh at her attempt to lighten up the mood. He raised a sympathetic smile, looking over at the window to see that the rain was letting up. “Wanna get out of here? I’ll give you a ride back to your hotel.”

“Yes, please, I’ve been sitting here for too long my butt is getting numb,” she said, and they broke into laughter again.

Isaac followed her to the door and opened his umbrella as she threw on her coat. They stepped out into the humid air of September’s ending, taking a deep breath at the same time and exchanging awkward smiles before turning away. It was strange, this feeling inside her chest, but she decided to ignore it and glanced back at him. He patted his pockets to search for his phone and pulled it out, asking her to wait while he replied to a text from his manager.

“Every single time I see you, you’re working,” she said, her lips arched.

“Well, Lee is super pissed at me right now,” he chuckled while typing. “I was supposed to be at this meeting with him but I moved it back a day.”

“Because of me?” Her smile faltered then faded.

He sent the text, put the phone away, and their eyes met again. “Because of me, actually. I was distracted by our conversation and forgot. But it’s also your fault for being so funny.”

She didn’t know what was happening in her mind at that moment. She tiptoed and lifted her chin, pressing her lips to his. He sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected that, but surely didn’t deny her as he deepened the kiss until she gasped and pushed away. The action stirred him, and he reached for her hand but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Goodbye,” was all she said before slipping into the crowd of pedestrians. While trying to decide if he should follow, the sound of his name made him jump. He turned around and saw Emilia in her work uniform.

“What are you doing here, Isaac?”

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Good Things Come to Those Who Talk

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, but the muse visited this week, so here is a fluffy and smutty Captain Swan one shot. I’m sure this trope has been written one millions ways, here is one million and one. Hope you like it. Although I am not around as much as I used to be, CS still remains my OTP and always will. 

ao3          ffnet          rated M          8.9K

Summary:  Emma Swan is so over her brother, he warns every cop he knows to stay away from her. She's pined for so long though, she wants Killian Jones, it's just double bad luck that he's a cop and he happens to be David's partner. She decides her brother's wrath is worth the risk to find out if there's something more for her and Killian. Now all she needs is a new dress and a plan.

“Emma Swan, you little slut! What has gotten into you?” Ruby screeched as Emma pulled the door to her home open.

“Is it too much?” Emma asked with just a touch of hysteria coloring her voice. She hurried back to her bedroom to give herself the once over… again. Running her hands down the newly purchased, skin tight, black mini dress, she followed each and every curve that was on full display.

“Girl, I would do you if I didn’t already have a girlfriend.”

“Not helping, Ruby!” 

“Emma, you look fucking hot, there is not a man on earth that could turn you down in that.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she mumbled under her breath. Tonight was the night. She’d danced around the longing and heat between her and Killian Jones for long enough. She’d been pining for this man for longer than she could remember, half the time they spent together felt like they were a couple anyway. She already knew her stupid brother, David, had warned Killian Jones to stay away from her, but there was nothing stopping her from putting the moves on Killian Jones. She just hoped Ruby was right, that no man would be able to resist her, including the one who’d been threatened with death if he so much as laid one finger on her. Emma was undeniably hoping for far more than one finger. A shiver jolted through her and she was brought back to the present.

“Someone’s got it baaaad,” Ruby teased. “You gonna make your move tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Emma said as she grabbed her knee length black leather jacket and tied it closed. She pulled her flowing, golden tresses from the jacket and tossed them over her shoulders. 

“Well then let’s get this party started!” With that, Ruby grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her back to the front of the house and out the door. 

The Rabbit Hole was their favorite local pub, and the only place to celebrate the hot shot detectives who’d made the biggest bust this city had ever seen. Of course it was the hot shot team of Detectives Nolan and Jones to bring down the infamous Robert “The Deal Maker” Gold and his outfit of miscreants. Earlier this morning, both men had received the Medal of Valor, for extraordinary acts of bravery and heroism, performed in the line of duty at extreme life-threatening, personal risk, their Captain had said. 

Emma remembered that day three weeks ago, when she’d received the call from her sister-in-law. The baby had been wailing in the background as Mary Margaret had tried to tell Emma, through choked sobs that David was in the hospital. No doubt the little guy had been so upset because his mama was having a justified meltdown. 

When Emma had arrived, Killian was in the waiting room, a little bloodied, bruised, and banged up, but he’d insisted on waiting for her before letting the doctors examine him. He’d wanted to let her know that David was in surgery, but he’d be okay, and Mary Margaret had just left to drop her two year old off at Belle’s so he didn’t have to wait in the ER. It wasn’t until Killian’s body had slumped against hers that Emma realized he wasn’t doing as well as he’d pretended. She’d found out later, Killian had been hit by Gold’s car as the fiend had tried to make a run for it. 

Emma doesn’t like to think about the panic she’d felt as he was hauled behind the swinging doors of the ER. She doesn’t like to remember the tears that had fallen when the thought that she’d never gotten to tell him how she felt for him, crossed her mind. She especially doesn’t like to think about how he’d been out of the hospital for three weeks now, and she’d still been too chicken shit to even ask him out on a date, let alone tell him that she’s crazy about him. 

Once Killian’s internal bleeding had stopped and he was cleared to go home, she’d helped him convalesce through a dislocated shoulder and severely bruised ribs. He’d gotten remarkably lucky considering he was hit by a car. Hours of flirting and bantering, movies on his couch, meals together, and she hadn’t scraped together the courage to tell him how she felt. She’d picked him up and attended the medal pinning with him today, and still she couldn’t find any words to tell him how she felt. When he’d come down off the stage, walked toward her and scooped her up into a bear hug, all she’d come up with was how proud she was of him. Even though it was true, there was so much more she wanted to say. And she’d known long before any of this had happened, she’d just never considered moving past her fear of rejection or risking their friendship for a chance at something more until she’d felt like she might lose him. 

That thought made her feel pretty shitty. But that’s when she’d decided a few things. Emma Swan was shit with words. Actions speak louder than words. Tonight was the night. And she needed a new dress. 

Taking a deep breath as the car pulled into the parking lot, to center her thoughts, fortify her determination, and get her collective shit together, Emma stepped out of Ruby’s car with something akin to hope.   

Upon entering the noisy bar, she searched for the woman who’d be lending her an assist tonight. Regina and her husband Robin, a retired police officer, now owned this bar. They were close personal friends with Emma’s brother’s family, as David’s former partner, and by extension, with the whole group. Regina would be the one taking care of their party tonight. Emma needed to square some drinking details away with the woman and then she’d be mission ready. After talking to Regina, she glanced around the crowded bar, searching for the man of the hour. Whatever confidence or hope had been building, promptly deflated as she located Killian, only to find him sitting at the bar with some handsy redhead whispering in his ear. 

“Emma!” She heard Mary Margaret’s voice call out from across the bar, but she couldn’t turn, she was transfixed, watching as the woman ran a finger along Killian’s jawline. It gave her just an ounce of pleasure when he removed her hand from his vicinity and placed it on the bar. The mystery woman was undeterred though as she placed her hand on his chest next. 

Mary Margaret called her name again, louder this time, and Emma noticed it caught Killian’s attention as he began to scan the bar. When his eyes met hers, they immediately lit up and he mouthed the word help, with desperation in his every feature. Emma’s confidence restored, she sashayed toward him with renewed determination. 

Goddamn, she thought as she appreciated how Killian’s royal blue button down shirt and black slacks were tailored to his body.  She bit down on her lip when she noted that he definitely had his customary one too many buttons undone and was displaying that magically delicious thatch of chest hair she’d imagined running her hands through just a couple times. Sauntering right in between the two, she settled in the spot of his perpetually manspread legs and placed her palms on his thighs, leaving her back to the other woman.

“Hey Sexy, where’ve you been all my life?” she asked in the sexiest tone she could muster while also trying not to crack up as she laid it on thick for the woman trying to steal her man. What?

“Right here, waiting for you, love,” Killian answered, wrapping an arm around her waist. The man didn’t miss a beat. 

Emma couldn’t be bothered to feel bad as she rubbed her palms over his muscular thighs which currently rested on her hips. She had a mission tonight, and this floozy behind her had been throwing herself at Killian.

“I’m so lucky someone didn’t come and scoop you up before I got here.”

Emma almost melted when he came right back with, “No one else is you.”

She knew this man, had known him for several years. She knew when he was playing a long con, when he was bullshitting, when he was joking, when he was serious, and when he was sincere. Her heartbeat stuttered as his earnest expression dared her to believe him. Just at that moment, the drinks Killian had ordered arrived. “Come on,” she said, grabbing the three beer bottles in one hand and taking his hand in her other. 

“Let me order a couple more, now that the rest of you are here.”

Emma leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And leave you at the mercy of Hands, I don’t think so.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Killian actually shivered, and she wondered how bad it had gotten before she’d arrived. When she stepped back though, she noticed a bright flush along Killian’s cheeks, and she wondered if she wasn’t causing that shiver and blush. “I’ll order when the server comes around.” 

Emma was positively rippling with anticipation of what Killian would think of her dress as they walked over to the private room Mary Margaret had reserved for tonight. The bar had several private rooms off each corner of the bar, they were a little less noisy, and perfect for celebratory drinks. This one had a large round booth and table in it, so Emma slid in next to her brother, pulling Killian in behind her. Strategically speaking, she was hoping David couldn’t stare daggers at Killian from this angle, like he always did when Emma and Killian were hanging out and getting too close for his comfort. She didn’t need her stupid brother ruining her plans.

“Here love, you can have this beer,” Killian offered as they sat down.

“That’s okay, I can wait for the server.” Emma was not in the mood to get drunk, at least not drunk for real. “Are Will and Belle still coming tonight?” Emma asked as she untied her jacket and leaned forward to take it off while still seated in the confines of the booth. 

Killian audibly choked on the swig of beer he’d been taking when he caught a glimpse of all the skin Emma was now showing. One false move and there could be a nip slip, really.

“Hey, Jones, you okay there buddy? Emma, quick, give him mouth to mouth, he’s choking,” she harassed. 

Emma shot her a look before slapping Killian on the back a couple times. “My ribs,” he croaked once he’d finished hacking and coughing. 

Emma preened as she noticed he still hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “You gonna be okay?” she asked, turning fully toward Killian as she soothingly rubbed her hand along his rib cage.

“Love your new dress, Ems,” Ruby exclaimed, adding fuel to multiple fires.

“New dress? Are you sure you got the whole thing?” David fumed. “Looks more like a tank top to me. And yes, to answer your question from before, Will and Belle are coming, their Lyft was running late.”

Emma looked over her shoulder to scowl at her brother, and he scowled right back. “I happen to like this dress, David,” she said, saying his name as pettily as any sister could, “what about you Killian. Do you like my new dress?”

Killian’s hand immediately shot up to scratch behind his ear, but before he could even speak a word, David leaned forward, peered around Emma and stared those oh so familiar daggers at Killian. 

“Oh stop it, David,” Mary Margaret chided her husband. 

“Oi mates, hope you didn’t start the party without me,” Will shouted as he and Belle entered the room. He and Belle scooted into the booth next to Ruby and Mulan, and Emma was thankful they’d arrived before David could start ranting about not wanting his sister to date a cop.  

Emma, Mary Margaret, Belle, and Ruby had all been promised a play by play of the Gold bust now that the case was finalized, Gold had been sentenced, and everyone was healed. Will and Mulan hadn’t been injured, but they’d been part of the task force, and instrumental in the take down. Emma tried not to concentrate too hard on the fact that she was the only female here who wasn’t technically a significant other. Besides, maybe that would change after tonight.  

A round of shots was ordered to start the evening and Regina brought them to the table, handing a shot of rum to each guest. They toasted to the takedown of the felon who had run rampant like a virus, for far too long. The story was intense to be sure, and a second round of shots was ordered to toast the health and safety of David, Killian, Mulan, and Will.  

When the live band started, they headed for the dance floor and Emma was thankful to have a bit of privacy, albeit in the middle of a crowded dance floor, with Killian. “You cut quite the figure in that dress,” he whispered into her ear. 

The band was covering a latin number and Emma melted as Killian pulled her in close. His left hand was on the small of her back and the other held her free hand. Her free hand rested on his chest, right at the juncture of his too unbuttoned shirt. 

“I don’t know exactly how to do this… dance,” Emma mumbled as Killian began to move his feet. They were connected at their hips as they swayed with the beat. 

“It’s called a mambo; there’s only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She’d danced with him before and it never ceased to amaze her how well the man could move his body. If he was this fluid and skilled while dancing, what could he do in bed? 

“I can see your mind working, Swan. What are you thinking about?”

Emma tried to stop the blush, but she’d definitely been caught ogling him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Perhaps I would,” he admitted while sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You are blushing,” he added as he trailed the finger down her cheek.

“I was just thinking, if you’re this good on the-” Emma’s breath was knocked from her as David and Mary Margaret careened into them. 

“Hey guys,” David shouted over the music, “time for shots.”

Emma just barely stopped herself from yelling at her brother to stop being a cockblock. Instead, she settled for stomping on his foot as she led Killian off the dancefloor. They all lined up at the bar and Regina doled out more shots. 

“I’m ready to go home,” Emma slurred into Killian’s shoulder several hours later. “Take me home?”

“Aye, love.”

“I thought Ruby was your ride,” David interrupted.

“No can do, Davey,” Ruby mumbled. “Me and my baby are staying at the hotel across the street so we don’t have to drive and we don’t have to come back for the car tomorrow. 

“We will take you home,” David proclaimed, as if someone had died and made him king.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re already taking Belle and Will home,” Mary Margaret told her husband. “Killian hasn’t been drinking for the last two hours, he can take Emma home.”

“Bu-” David started.

“I know we have five seats, but we don’t need to squish five adults into them, when Killian can give Emma a ride.”

Emma snickered at the way Mary Margaret effortlessly handled David.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” David muttered. 

After the group said their goodbyes, Emma let Killian lead her to his truck. She pretended to need much more help getting in than she really did. Under the guise of being drunk, Emma found she was much braver. If he turned her down, she could always pretend she was so drunk she didn’t remember, and if he was a gentleman, which he was, he’d never mention it. 

Reaching across the space between them, Emma brushed the hair away from his forehead. “I was so worried about you when you were in the hospital,” she whispered, making sure to slur a word here and there.

“I’m sorry I worried you, lass, but you needn’t worry about me.”

“I do worry about you, Killian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, in your inebriated state, I’m sure it’s hard to imagine, but I am sure you’d manage.”

“What a horrible thing to say! I would not be okay if I lost you, I would never be okay.”

Killian clasped his hand over hers, which had been idly stroking his cheek. “Shhh, love, there’s no need to discuss this topic anyway. If there is one thing I am good at, it’s surviving.” 

Killian pulled into her driveway and hastily exited to help her down from the truck. She definitely put more weight on him than was strictly necessary and sloppily handed him the keys to unlock her door. 

“Someone is going to be feeling like shite in the morning,” Killian laughed. 

Emma played it up, and allowed Killian to get Tylenol and water for her as she stripped out of her dress and hopped into her bed. 

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” he checked as he set her hangover supplies on her nightstand.

Emma caught his hand as he went to put it in his pocket. “Stay with me?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Please,” Emma asked sweetly, looking up at him with all the hope she felt inside written clearly on her face.

Killian exhaled a long sigh as only a man who knows he’s lost can. Circling around the bed, he started to climb in behind her. 

“You’re not going to sleep in jeans, are you?”

“I don’t exactly have sleepwear at my disposal, Swan. And you’re sleeping in your dress.”

Emma laughed at that, that’s what he thinks. “Take off your jeans, boxer briefs are just like shorts.” She grinned triumphantly as she heard the metal of his belt and the rustling of pants being dropped. 

Once he was settled in her bed, she turned over and snuggled against him. The groan he emitted when she did so shot a bolt of heat straight to her core. She knew he was just as affected as she was, and that was hot. 

“Emma, please, you’re making it very hard fo-”

“That’s kinda the point,” she giggled, pressing her body against his and snaking her free hand into the opening of his shirt to rake it through his chest hair. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Yeah?” 

“Poor choice of words,” he corrected as he scooted away from her advances. “We can’t do this.”

Emma immediately felt the sting of his words in her chest, like someone was gripping her heart, or worse, like someone had taken it and she was hollow. A flurry of emotions ran through her as she tried to assure herself she still had her failsafe of “being drunk”. She searched for words. “Why? Because of my stupid brother?” she demanded, her voice a little more watery than angry.

“This has nothing to do with your brother, Swan.”

“Then… why?” Emma sat up in bed and pulled the blankets tightly around her body, as if they’d protect her from whatever hurtful reason he had for not wanting her.

“Because you’re drunk and-”

“Well-” Emma interrupted.

“No, wait, let me finish. Before I lose my nerve.”

Emma frowned at him, but complied by sitting quietly.

“You’ve been drinking all night love, and I would never forgive myself if I took advantage of you in this state and then you regretted it in the morning, if you regretted me. I… I’m crazy about you Emma, I have been for a long time. I don’t want a drunken one night stand with you, hell, I don’t want any kind of one night stand with you. I want… more.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked softly.

“Short answer? I’m a coward.”

“What if I want to know the extended version?” she asked as she patted the seat next to her and offered him part of the blankets so he could join her.

Killian got back into the bed and sat up against the headboard as Emma was. “I guess I’ve hid behind your brother’s warning to stay away from you. I mean, he’s not wrong, it can be a hard life being with a cop. Look what happened with Gold. I also worried about jeopardizing our friendship, especially if you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why now?”

Killian chuckled before answering her. “You being drunk gives me the courage to say how I feel, because you might not even remember this in the morning.” 

Emma dropped all pretense of being inebriated and leaned forward so she was looking straight into the depths of the eyes she dreamed about almost nightly. “Let’s get something straight, okay? I could never regret you, Killian Jones.” Placing a hand softly on his cheek, she smiled at the awestruck look on his face. “And also, I haven’t had a drink all night. I paid Regina to fill my shots with apple juice. I just needed the cover of liquid courage to try and seduce you because I am shit with words. And I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could always pretend that I didn’t remember the next day.”

Killian’s warm laughter startled her a bit, but then she was laughing with him. “I usually have a flair with words, Swan, you just do something to me that brings me to my basest form. I’m a goner for you, and I wish I’d have told you sooner.”

“Well, get used to me not being great with words. I’m sort of caveman-like. I mean, I’m not gonna point and grunt, but I definitely use action over words. But if I can paraphrase a great wordsmith, ‘I’m crazy about you, Killian, I have been for a long time’.”

The smile that lit up Killian’s face, dimples and all, was worth the hell she was going to go through with David. 

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I never got a chance to answer you at the bar. I love your new dress, may I see it again,” he asked, gently tugging at the blankets she’d wrapped around herself for protection a few moments ago.

“Hmmm, sorry, not right now...” Killian immediately dropped his hand from the blanket and began to tell her it’s okay, when she peeled away the blanket, and continued, “because I’m not wearing it anymore.” 

“Fuck me,” he murmured before biting down on his lip hungrily.

“Still the plan.” 

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

“Stand up, love, let me see you.”

Emma complied, standing up and bearing herself to him. She was clad in nothing more than lacy, black panties and a matching bra. Watching as he perused every inch of her body, from the swell of her breasts, to her lean torso and soft belly, then down to the apex of her thighs, she could see his length swelling under his boxer briefs, and every part of her wanted him. Crooking her finger, she beckoned him to her, and it was his turn to comply. 

Once Killian stood before her, Emma unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, to the floor. Then she did something that shocked her a little bit, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close and just held him; he immediately reciprocated, both arms encircling her and bringing her close. The feelings they’d just spoken floated around them and  flowed between them.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she guided his mouth to hers and kissed him, softly and exploratorily at first. But as lips gave way to caressing tongues, and roaming hands, heat built and Emma found herself panting and breathless.

Killian unclasped her bra and pulled it away and she was never more grateful for that barrier to be gone, as his chest hair delicately tightened her nipples and sent sparks shooting to her core. She wanted more and made it known by grabbing his ass with both hands and hauling him firmly to her. Killian glided his hands down her back and over her firm ass while sucking a nipple into his mouth. She moaned his name at the sensation of his wet mouth laving at her breasts, and his fingers and palms caressing the smooth expanse of her ass. Emma wanted that last barrier gone, she reached between them to remove first her panties and then finally his boxer briefs.  

She was not disappointed when she finally got a look at what her Detective was packing. Emma licked her lips as his cock stood at full attention, straining with the need to be touched.

“See something you like, darling?” 

There was that hint of cockiness that she loved so much. “Yeah,” she breathed as she dropped to her knees. Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, Emma stroked up and down a few times, relishing in the hiss that left Killian’s mouth. When his head dropped back, she pounced, taking him deep and swallowing once, before pulling back and then setting a slow rhythmic pace.

Killian lifted her from her knees and attacked her mouth with kisses, between trying to speak, “You don’t have to do that.”

Emma pulled her head back to stare at this man in front of her. What guy turns down head? “I know I don’t have to, I was enjoying myself,” she said, then she pushed into his frame, guiding him backwards until he could sit at the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees again, and  smirked before descending on him once more, but before she could even set a rhythm, he was halting her ministrations again.

“Okay, that’s twice. What’s up, Jones? Do you not enjoy getting head? Do I suck at it, and not in the good way?” Emma sat back on her calves, folding her arms around herself.  

“On the contrary, you are magnificent at sucking my cock, Emma.”

She grinned mischievously at the compliment, a swarm of relief flooding her mind. “Then what gives?”

“I haven’t...” Killian trailed off, and an actual blush colored his cheeks as he tried to find the words he was looking for. 

Emma put her hands on his knees and gently squeezed. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I haven’t been with anyone in a while, I’ve kind of been saving myself for this brilliant lass I know. Plus, I’ve been hard since you took your jacket off at the bar and I don’t wish to finish before you,” he admitted. He rubbed nervously behind his ear as he waited for her reaction.

Emma was a little speechless. At no point in her life had she ever been with a man who was so dedicated to her gratification, he would deny his own. She’d definitely never been halted in the middle of a blow job so that her needs could be met. She stood up, taking Killian with her and then turned them around so that she could lie down on the bed. Holding her hand out to him, she pulled him down next to her and then scooted so that they were laying face to face. “Make me come, Killian.”

Needing no further guidance, Killian captured her lips in a fiery kiss while situating her on her back. Their tongues slid together effortlessly until he broke the kiss to blaze a trail down her body. She would definitely have marks, but he was careful to leave them where only they would see. As he paid special attention to her breasts again, delighting way too much in the noises she made, Emma finally caved, begging for more.

Scooting down between her legs, Killian took stock of the pretty picture splayed out for him. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured. Ever so gently, he ran the tip of his finger along her glistening folds, parting them as his finger ran further down, exposing her clit to the cool air. 

“Please Killian, touch me.”

“As you wish.” 

Emma keened in half relief and half need as his tongue finally made contact with her clit. She thrust her hips, needing nothing short of penetration, and again, she was obviously hoping for more than just one finger. She wasn’t disappointed when Killian filled her with two digits as he worked her clit with his tongue.

Emma fisted a handful of Killian’s dark hair as he brought her a pleasure like none she’d experienced before. It was hot as hell to have him watching her with those devilish blue eyes gazing up from between her thighs as she fucked his fingers. 

Emma had never been much of a talker in bed, but she found it easy with Killian to ask for more, to ask for it harder, and because of that, he had her falling over the edge of oblivion quickly.

“Get up here, now,” she panted, once her mind came back from the haze of post orgasmic delight.

“Gods, you taste divine,” he praised as he moved over her body, settling between her legs so they were face to face.

“You are really good at that, better than I could ever have imagined.”

“Oh, Emma,” he began as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down gently before letting it go, “do elaborate on ‘imagined’,” he smirked before grinding his hips down so his thick length slid through her folds and over her clit. 

A breathy moan rushed past her lips as he teased her. “Yeah? You want to hear all about how I get myself off while thinking of you?”

“Aye, lass, tell me.”

“Mmmmm, sometimes it’s quick and dirty, fucking my fingers, wishing they were yours. Other times I imagine you bend me over your desk at the precinct and take me roughly. But the best is edging while wondering if you’re lying in bed thinking about me, stroking your hard cock. I always finally make myself come, pleading your name as I picture you making yourself come all over your chest, calling out my name.”

“Christ, Emma, I’m going to come all over your chest if you tell me any more.”

In a flash of motion, Emma flipped them so she was on top, staring down at Killian. “We can’t have that.” Leaning down, she kissed him roughly, demanding his tongue, while situating his cock so she could sink down on it. “Oh… fuck you feel so good,” she gasped as his full length hit a depth she’d never felt without toys. Her hands found purchase on his chest as she adjusted to his size. 

She let Killian set the pace after he grasped both her hips and guided her along. He was mesmerized by the way his cock slid in and out of her wet heat. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he praised.

Killian pulled her down for a kiss again, and flipped them so he was on top. Emma whined as he withdrew from her completely and sat back on his haunches. “I’ve just realized I don’t have a condom,” he said defeatedly.

“That’s okay, I’m on the pill and I’m clean. You clean?”

“Aye, lass. On my honor.”

“Then put every inch of that cock back inside me,” she demanded as she pulled him back into the cradle of her thighs.

Emma laughed lightly as Killian groaned loudly while pushing back into her. “Just so you know, love, this feels so much better than any time I’ve ever taken myself in hand while thinking of you. And I always come with your name on my lips.” 

Her answering smile turned into a low moan as Killian pulled out and then thrust back home. He changed the tempo, long deep passes, quick pounding thrusts, grinding his hips into her sometimes, and pumping shallowly others. She made sure to let him know what felt good and what felt better, and especially what was, “Oh fuck, yes, right there!” 

Despite never having been together before, the combination of Emma knowing what she liked,  being comfortable enough to ask for it, and Killian listening to her and taking care of her, had them riding the same wave, feeling, exploring, loving. 

In the end, Killian had both her legs pulled up high around his waist, arms under her shoulders, and his face buried in the crook of her neck as he methodically drove into her, determined to make her come again. 

Emma had her legs wrapped tightly around his torso, her arms around his neck, and her head thrown back into the pillow. They were a hot sweaty mess, and she was sure she’d never been wound this tight, she’d never been this turned on,maybe there was something to sex with feelings. His hot breath against her neck caused a tightness in her nipples and a tingling in her clit. Killian’s thrusts were punishing, hitting her deep, and she was so close and she knew he was close and she really wanted to come again.  

“Touch yourself, Emma, I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

An errant bit of relief flooded her as she realized Killian was not intimidated in asking for what he wanted either and he wasn’t too macho to ask her to help get them there. Now was not the time for reflection though, and so she pushed those delightful thoughts to an area for later. Reaching down between them, Emma gathered the arousal that coated her thighs and started rubbing her fingers over her clit. “Almost, Killian, almo- Oh, Ooooh,” Emma cried. 

It was almost ridiculous how in sync they were, each gracing the edge of ecstasy before plummeting off one after the other, calling the other’s name like a benediction. She’d been right, his moves on the dance floor had definitely foreshadowed his performance in bed. And just like the attentive gentleman he was day-to-day, he was the same in bed, making sure to guide her through every aftershock, and hold her as she came down from on high. 

“Bloody Hell, why did we wait so long to do this?” Killian panted against her neck, before rolling off of her. “Come here,” he said, pulling Emma against his side. 

Instead of nestling into him, Emma stood up and stretched deliciously. “So, I guess, I’ll umm... see you around?” A mixture of shock, disappointment, and embarrassment crossed his face before he quickly jumped out of bed. The look was priceless, she really did feel heartless, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. 

“Right, love,” he mumbled as he turned from her and grabbed his slacks off the floor.  

Emma tiptoed behind him and circled her arms around his waist, his whole body was taught. “I’m fucking with you, Jones,” she said gently, pressing her cheek to his back. “Join me for a shower?” As his body relaxed, she placed a few kisses between his shoulder blades causing him to shiver. 

He turned in her arms and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. “You are a devilish little minx, aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t resist,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Come on, let’s go get clean… and dirty.”

“Do you promise to tell me more dirty little fantasies?”

A blush ran up her body as she remembered telling Killian her favorite fantasy about him. 

“Don’t get shy now. For someone who says they’re shite with words, you were certainly very chatty in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Killian.” She rolled her eyes and smacked his chest as mortification coursed through her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shower, but found herself being swung back into his chest.

Killian wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his front to her back in a sensual embrace. “Don’t you dare ever feel ashamed to tell me exactly what you want, love. If you want it harder,” he thrust his hips against her ass to elaborate, “if you want it deeper,” he growled, sucking at the lobe of her ear, “if you want my mouth between your thighs…”

Emma moaned as Killian continued rutting his hips against her ass and caressing her with his strong hands. She hung on his every word.

“If you want to watch me stroke my cock,” he said huskily, “just say the words.”

“Fuck, Killian. I want you to fuck me again,” she responded breathily. Taking his hand and pulling him toward the shower again, she met no resistance this time. 

Reaching into the shower she turned the water on full blast and then turned around and jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist to kiss him while they waited for it to warm up. 

He took her again, against the wall of her shower, then they made out until the water began to cool, before they both fell into bed, sated and exhausted.

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

Emma hummed happily as she stood at the stove making pancakes. Killian was still sound asleep in her bed, the hint of a smile playing at his lips, and a hard case of morning wood if the slight tent of the sheets was anything to judge by. As much as she’d wanted to wake him up with salacious activities, she’d also wanted to let him sleep in. So she’d silently slipped into her black silk robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. Her mind kept jumping to different parts of their evening together, and how much she hoped for a repeat performance.

An unadulterated smile broke out across her face when Killian’s husky voice broke through her morning musings. “Something smells delicious.”

The way he nuzzled into her made her weak in the knees as she protested the compliment. “It’s just from a box.”

“Mmm,” he hummed against her ear, “I’m not talking about the pancakes.”

Emma spun in his arms and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her mind was spinning, it was a little shocking to her that she wasn’t panicking at all about how much they’d discussed last night and how deep their feelings ran for each other. She realized she wasn’t afraid because what they had was worth taking the risk for. Breaking the kiss, she peered into his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes full of emotions that she knew mirrored her own. And the absolutely boyish grin gracing his face made her heart soar. 

“What?” he asked as she continued gazing at him.

“Nothing, I’m just... happy.” 

“Aye, love, me too.”

Emma leaned in to kiss him again, this time parting her mouth and begging entrance to his as she stroked the seam of his lips with her tongue. “To hell with the pancakes,” she muttered when he opened to her, tongues tangling together. Carding her fingers through his hair, only their breathing and wet kisses filled the air as she pushed him back toward the table until he was sitting with her nestled between his legs.

 Untying her robe, Killian caressed his hands up and down the lush skin of her torso before greedily pulling her against him, showing her how ready she had him, not that it was hard to tell through his boxer briefs.

“I smell pancakes. I thought we were eating on the way to the zoo?” a masculine voice said, cutting through the moment. 

“David!” Emma gasped.

“Your brother has a key, good to know,” Killian muttered. Emma dropped her head into Killian’s shoulder, willing this to be a dream. That was quickly shattered when she heard Mary Margaret’s voice. 

“Are we interrupting something,” Mary Margaret asked, eyes wide as saucers and a smirk begging to be let out. 

“EmEm! Killy!” little Leo cooed. 

David’s hands had immediately found his hips, as they quite often did before interrogating a suspect. Although the look on his face looked more like he was preparing to beat a perp. “What the… I mean… What’s go- Why the hell is he- Goddammit!” he roared, throwing his hands up in the air, and the toddler snuggled in Mary Margaret’s arms immediately started crying at his father’s outburst. “I thought I said she was off limits?”

“Hey!” Mary Margaret and Emma both yelled. As Emma stepped away from Killian to give her brother a piece of her mind, Killian quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Neither missed the huff of exasperation from David, but both ignored it. Killian quickly folded Emma’s robe over and tied it closed before giving her an attempted wink.

She smiled that happy smile at him before returning a scowl to her brother. “I am not a possession, David. You’re not my father, you’re not my husband, and you’re not my keeper! You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot be with.” She was outright yelling as she finished.

“I’m not,” he boomed. “I’m telling Killian he can’t be with you. I don’t want you with a cop, Emma!”

“Why is being with a cop good enough for your wife, the one you share a love so pure with and would lay down your life for, but being with a cop isn’t okay for me?”

“It’s not like that, Emma,” David argued.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s it like? I’m dying to understand,” she retorted.

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“From what?” When David made no move to answer, she shouted her question louder at him. “From what!?” 

“Daddy, EmEm, no fight,” Leo cried. 

“Emma,” Killian called softly and she turned to look at his calming blue eyes. He was quite the site, clad only in his skivvies, both hands strategically placed over his package. “Let’s get dressed. You both could use a minute to calm down.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mary Margaret piped in. “Take five, we’ll finish making breakfast. You still have that leftover ham from the other night?”

Emma nodded at her sister-in-law, then she and Killian headed toward her bedroom.

“Where are you going, Jones,” David seethed.

“Where the fuck do you think his clothes are, David,” Emma cursed.

Once in the bedroom, Killian pulled Emma into his arms. “Hey, we are going to make him understand, okay. There’s no reason to fight with him. Let’s make him understand. Hear him out, whatever his reasons, and then show him why he’s wrong.” 

“No, Killian. He’s being an absolute dick. He has no right to tell me what to do. And I hate whatever his reasons are. I don’t care.”

Killian placed a hand on each of her cheeks and looked into her eyes, before planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Yes you do, love. And we can figure this out.”

Admittedly, some of her anger faded as Killian talked of understanding and explaining and communication. She walked to her dresser and pulled out one of his old t-shirts she’d borrowed at a party at his place. 

“You still have this?” he chuckled.

“It smelled like you for a long time after I borrowed it, I like sleeping in it.” 

“That party was over a year ago,” he mused.

“I told you, I’ve wanted…,” she paused, trying to find a better word for how she’d felt for so long. “I’ve really liked you for a long time, Killian.”

He slipped the t-shirt over his head before descending on her and kissing her fully. “Maybe almost for as long as I’ve fancied you.”

She just giggled at that, hugging him for fortification before taking his hand and heading back out into the battle zone.

“Wait, I still don’t have pants.”

Emma led him to the guest room.“David and Mary Margaret keep extra clothes here for when they don’t decide early enough who is going to be designated driver.”

“I don’t think Mary Margaret’s pants will fit me, darling.”

“Shut up you goofball,” she laughed as she threw him a pair of David’s sweatpants.

“Let’s sit down and eat, and discuss this like adults,” Mary Margaret, always the mother, ordered everyone when Emma and Killian emerged. 

She’d finished cooking the pancakes, whipped up a batch of scrambled eggs, and was just finishing frying up the leftover ham. David was pouring a round of coffee for everyone and holding Leo who was happily babbling now that he had a pancake in his hand and no one was yelling.

After strapping the baby into the portable high chair they kept at Emma’s place, everyone sat down at the table and dug into breakfast. 

“Can you just tell me what you think you’re protecting me from?” Emma asked. “I mean you trust Killian with your life, literally. Why don’t you trust him with my heart?”

David’s stoic expression lightened at that. “Does he have your heart, Emma?”

Killian glanced toward Emma and smiled knowingly. They didn’t need to call it love right this instant, but they were definitely invested in each other. 

“Answer the question, dear,” Mary Margaret prodded. “Otherwise they don’t have the truth, because trusting Killian has nothing to do with it, and you know it.”

“Fine,” David sighed. “You dealt with abandonment by your own parents, by every subsequent foster parent, by the only friend you made as a child, who turned out to be a fraud, and then with Neal’s betrayal, which almost broke you. I don’t want you to ever experience that abandonment again.” David’s voice broke as he finished explaining. Tears rimmed his eyes as he contemplated even trying to understand what she’d been through. And he would be damned before it happened again, especially by someone who he’d introduced into her life. 

“What?” Emma asked incredulously. “That has everything to do with trusting Killian,” she argued. “Why do you assume he’d abandon me.”

Leo quieted as the tension between siblings started to grow again and Mary Margaret looked around the table, jaw clenched and a warning in her eyes to every adult at the table to not upset her baby again. 

Killian placed his hand over Emma’s white knuckles where her fist lay balled up on the table. “I don’t think he means I would intentionally leave you, Swan.”

Emma looked between her brother and Killian, a confused furrow cocking her brows. 

David chuckled, “See, he gets it.”

“Explain, David. Make her understand where you’re coming from,” his wife urged him.

Wait, Emma thought, it was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to be making him understand why she and Killian were a good, no great, thing. Before she could speak though, David started up again.

“Emma, you really think no one sees how much you two are into each other? You really think for almost two years, no one has watched the way you pine for each other, flirt off the charts, tease each other like kids on a playground? You’re like an old married couple half the time, we’d have to be blind not to see it. Killian is a good man, I understand he’d never purposefully hurt you, he’d have to deal with me if he did. But you have to understand that officers die in the line of duty all the time. Being with one means you accept that risk. I couldn’t bear the thought of you losing one more person you loved, especially if it was someone I brought into your life.”

A tear or two trailed down Emma’s cheeks as she listened to her brother. As she really heard what he was saying. For the first time, she understood where he was coming from. It finally made sense why he didn’t want her being with a cop. And it relieved her mind that it had nothing to do with Killian personally, especially because she wasn’t giving him up. 

“EmEm, you sad?” Leo asked.

A small laugh turned cry-hiccup escaped Emma’s mouth. “No baby, I’m happy,” she smiled. 

Leo clapped his hands, his innocent celebration of an adult human being happy, bringing a smile to everyone’s face. 

Emma unfurled her balled up fist under Killian’s comforting hand and interlaced their fingers, giving him a strong smile. “David, while I am thankful that you explained your reason for not wanting me with Killian and I even understand where you’re coming from, I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a bus. There are no guarantees in this life.”

David nodded his head as he glanced between her face and her and Killian’s intertwined fingers. 

“He has my heart, David, would you deny us that?”

David sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest as he often did when contemplating something. After a full minute, at least, he exhaled a breath bespeaking acceptance, albeit reluctantly. “I’m beginning to see that. And I could never deny you happiness, Emma.” 

Emma beamed at her brother, understanding that while his actions may have been off kilter the reasoning behind them was fueled by brotherly love. 

Mary Margaret leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek before flashing Emma and Killian a smile. “Glad we got this settled,” she giggled.

“So, just what are your intentions toward my sister, Jones?”

Emma scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes at David’s attempt at big brother intimidation tactics. But when she heard Killian’s answer, she was kinda thankful to her brother.

“Well Dave, whatever happens between me and Emma is as much up to her as it is me. But I’m in this for the long haul if she’ll have me.”

“Good answer, partner,” David laughed as he threw his hand out across the table in an offer to shake Killian’s. “Two rules,” he added as he squeezed Killian’s hand tighter, “you are never allowed to kiss and tell around me, and if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” 

Killian let David have his moment of brotherly protection, because he understood how important it was to cherish Emma. He was the one who’d fancied her for almost two years after all. 

“All right, enough of that,” Mary Margaret sighed as she wiped Leo’s hands and face. “Let’s get everything cleaned up, and then we are headed to the zoo as planned. Emma you are free to bail, you and Killian probably have a lot of catching up to do for the last year and a half.” 

Emma waggled her eyebrows at her sister-in-law and Killian had the good sense to not dispense with his usual abundance of innuendos, while David just cast the evil eye at his wife. 

“What,” Mary Margaret asked, holding her hands up in mock innocence and confusion, “what’d I say?”

“Ga-dammen!” Leo shouted and every head whipped around to look at the little boy as he tugged helplessly at the lap belt of the high chair. “Up, up,” he pleaded. 

“Way to go, dear, looks like he’ll have your charming vocabulary,” Mary Margaret scolded her husband.

Not having any kids of their own had Emma and Killian struggling not to bellow out loud at the little guys antics. 

“No, no, Leo,” David told his son as he unbuckled the lap belt and picked him up. “That’s a… that’s a daddy word.”

“David! What kind of lesson is that?”

Emma and Killian just looked at each other and started cracking up. “So what do you say? Stay in or join these crazy kids at the zoo?” Emma asked Killian.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing,” Emma deadpanned. “I’m asking you out on a date with me, my brother, his wife and kid, and the monkeys too.”

“Sounds delightful as long as you’ll be there,” Killian answered as he pulled her into his embrace and pecked her lips. 

“Hey, let’s just take it slow,” David interrupted, “I’m not quite there yet.”

“Oh relax, she’s 28, not 16, they’ve obviously already done the deed, how are you going to get squirmy over a hug?” 

“Not helping!” David pleaded with his wife, rubbing his temples in a soothing motion. 

“He’s such a baby,” Mary Margaret cracked up. “How about you guys meet us there? No rush,” she added conspiratorially. 

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to lay out a trail of rose petals to the bed for them?”

“He’s too easy,” she continued laughing.

“Fuhfuh sake!!” Leo shouted.

Mary Margaret’s laughter cut off immediately as she stared daggers at her husband. “Watch your mouth, he’s a parrot these days!”

“Gonna be a fun day,” Emma said, once the Nolans had departed. She was most definitely trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“It’ll be brilliant, love. You and me, that is the only requisite for my enjoyment.”

“I bet you say that to all the other girls.”

“There are no other girls. Only you, milady.”

“Good,” Emma whispered before pulling him in for a kiss.

“Mmm, let’s practice mating like the animals, Swan.”

Emma laughed so hard her stomach hurt. “I have no doubt David is now timing the drive to the zoo and adding it to the time he thinks it should take us to be ready.”

“I can be quick,” Killian purred as he thrust his hardening length against her stomach. 

“Or we could take our time and really freak him out?”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan, I promise, that’s all I want you to have.”

Emma stared into the intense gaze of Killian’s eyes, the blue shining with truth and sincerity. “The long haul, Killian, that’s what my heart desires. You and me.”

The End

Tagging @laschatzi @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @hollyethecurious @jennjenn615​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @apromisednightcap​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @wordsmith-storyweaver​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @nikkiemms​ @deathbycaptainswan​ @gingerchangeling​ @thisonesatellite​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @tiganasummertree​ @cocohook38​ @snowbellewells​ @andiirivera​ @searchingwardrobes​ @timeless-love-story​ @artistic-writer​ @kday426​ @imagnifika​

[blankblankityblank]

Just, don’t wake up

Hi everyone! This is my fic for the @starkerkink exchange, dedicated to @vaguekiwi! I really hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

High school AU, with superpowers.

Tony’s home life has never been amazing, but one night, it’s just too much for him. He flies blindly to the first destination he can think of in his battered suit, holding his breath when he realises exactly who’s house he’s flown to. He doubts this evening will be normal, especially when he realises there’s only one bed.

Warnings: Masturbation, Flogging, Name-calling, Restraints, slightly dub-con, both 17. Check ao3 for further warnings!

Read on ao3!

Tony arrived late to class, as usual. Peter sighed, the usual thought flitting through his head: How does he always manage to arrive late, even with a full body suit that flies?

The teacher for their class, AP Bio, glanced at Tony unimpressed but unsurprised-this was a regular occurrence, and it showed.

Tony waltzed to his seat with the usual I-really-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, plonking down and prompt executing a yawn. Peter rolled his eyes; did he always have that look on his hot face? How did he even get into AP Bio when he didn’t even pay attention? Oh yeah, that’s right-Howard Stark’s son, prodigy at 4, bla bla bla. Peter needed a break from the constant ‘Tony Stark made his own suit’ fawning that half the girls, and guys, constantly exhibited. Like yeah, big deal-was anyone gonna talk about Peter’s amazing skills to do with web fluid? Or crafting his own suits, which, well, didn’t always go particularly well?

“And today, we will be taking a bit of an off-topic turn into some neurobiology! Chemicals and hormones produced by the brain!” The teacher sang, trying to mask her own boredom with the unresponsive class, “who can tell me what the four main hormones to do with happiness contain?”

Peter shot his hand up, excited that he for once knew the answer to the question before smart-ass Tony.

“The four main chemicals are endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, often abbreviated as D.O.S.E,” Peter stated. Tony slowly turned around in his chair, and glared at him. Peter just smirked. ‘One day,’ he mouthed at the growingly frustrated classmate.

“Very good! Can someone tell me what each of these hormones’ functions are?” Their teacher again asked. Peter’s hand shot up for the second time, his mouth forming a smirk in sync.

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

“Well well well, if it isn’t smart-ass Parker in a sticky situation?” Tony purred, his smooth voice richoeing off of the poorly-designed science lab. Peter sighed, closing his eyes in preparation before facing the problem.

“Does it look like I don’t know what I’m doing? Wouldn’t wanna steal your thunder now, would I?” He snarked back, trying to stir his web fluid in peace. The teacher had allowed his class 15 minutes of time to work on their various powers, any tweaks or fixes being attended to. Tony had apparently finished oiling up his suit, but Peter had no such privilege.

Tony flicked the back of Peter’s head as he strutted away, going over to talk to Steve and Bucky. Goddamned overpowered mutants. Ok, so maybe Peter was a tiny bit jealous of their friendship, but that was his business.

He dispensed the web fluid with a sigh, getting ready to pack up and head back to his apartment, and hopefully blow off some steam with a Star Wars movie night. He smiled softly to himself; maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all. He could chill with may, have some hot chocolate, quote every line of Empire Strikes Back because he totally doesn’t know it word for word.

The bell rang, immediately followed by a cacophony of bags zipping, several whirring sounds as various students fired up their ride home. Peter ducked his head down, knowing his power wasn’t as rich or powerful as his classmates’ privileged ones. And they didn’t even know it, how lucky they were. They’d never know what it’s like to be born with stickiness and a general strength upgrade. No super-advanced knowledge of tech, engineering, how to fly, being able to fly...everything that separated him from the rest of his peers.

Peter swung his backpack over his shoulder, cursing as his AP Bio textbook dropped onto the ground, setting off a too-loud thump on the concrete floor. A few heads swivelled in his direction, and Peter flushed as he hurriedly picked the offending book up, and returned it to its rightful place. Face still hot, he all but rushed out of the classroom, eager to change into his suit and get this day over with.

“Hey! Parker! Wait up, for fuck’s sake. You dropped two books, not one, you blind-ass bat,” Tony hollered, his feet slapping against the linoleum. Peter grabbed the exercise book from Tony’s offering hand, not dignifying the teen with a response. Ok, so maybe it was a bit harsh. But he had to stay ice-cold around Tony; if it got out Parker had a crush, it would not go down well. At. All.

“You’re not even gonna say thanks?” Tony spluttered in disbelief, hand still outstretched.

“Nope,” Peter replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Pretty sure I deserve some recognition, I could have just left that book on the floor for some other snotty-nosed kid to find,” Tony said indignantly, hand returned to his side.

“Well then don’t do it next time. I don’t give a shit, Stark,” Peter fired back, attempting to quell his progressingly noticeable butterflies.

Tony opened his mouth in a retort, but instead opted for an eye roll and spun on his heel. Probably to get back to his fancy 5 star penthouse, Peter thought bitterly. He headed to the bathrooms, diligently fighting his instinct to catch a glance of that ass. God, he was so, so gone.

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

Peter entered his apartment silently, not wanting to disturb May. He kicked off his shoes, deflating his suit and carrying the rest of his belongings to his room. Or, his cave, as May liked to call it. The 16 year old dungeon was another favourite of hers.

“May? ‘M home..” He trailed off when the bright Post-it note caught his eye. He frowned, peeling it off the bench and reading the bubbly handwriting. ‘Picked up an extra shift, be home tomorrow at 7! Sorry I couldn’t make it tonight kiddo xx’ Well. He could kiss his plans of venting to may goodbye, it seemed. Hot chocolate and a movie night still lifted his hopes, albeit less enthusiastic with no one to share it with now. The teen hummed the Star Wars theme song as he boiled the water and got his hot chocolate ready. He finished his task from earlier, dumping his stuff in an impossibly messy room that cleaning seemed impossible. There were things he didn’t want to uncover by doing so.

The TV flickered to life, selecting the chosen movie as directed by Peter. He sipped on his hot chocolate, swearing softly when the liquid burnt his tongue. It’d probably need to cool, considering the loss of feeling in his taste buds. The TV screen suddenly paused the movie, indicating the buffering icon as the infuriatingly slow loading bar popped up.

“For fucks’ sake…” Peter muttered, deciding to take a quick shower to pass the time. He didn’t bother getting clothes, seeing as he was the only one home. He padded to the bathroom, turning the shower on and watching as the water slowly began to produce steam. He then stripped, chucking his clothes into the overflowing hamper and stepping into the soothing water. He let it wash over him, adjusting himself to the temperature as he scrubbed himself with vanilla soap, the day’s events flicking hazily through his mind.

The teen looked down, noticing his growing hard-on. Maybe his thoughts about Tony had taken a...darker turn. He palmed himself half-heartedly, almost jolting when the spark of arousal ran through his body. He groaned softly to himself, putting more energy into pumping his hard on. His precum provided lubricant, his hand going up and down faster and faster until he was right on the edge and it felt so good, and-

Peter pulled his hand off, letting his erect cock bob helplessly in the air. He was breathing hard, not having reached his orgasm. It just...it didn’t feel right. He rubbed soap on his body again, his dick slowly returning to it’s normal size.

The shower came to a close after 15 minutes of staring at the wall, he may or may not have been thinking about a certain black head of hair, brown eyes flecked with gold, the body of a Greek god...maybe he lost track of time, but it was time well spent in Peter’s opinion. He towelled himself off with less energy, suddenly losing the motivation to actually dry himself off-probably because all his brain power was used trying to figure out a certain someone’s personality.

He plopped onto his nest of blankets and pillows, smiling when he saw the movie was ready to watch again. He hit play, content with the world at last.

That is, until some fucking idiot banged, not knocked, banged, on Peter’s door. He resolutely ignored it, turning the volume of the TV to max. Until, the banging didn’t stop. It just kept going. And going. And going-

“This better be a real good fucking reason,” Peter snarled, pausing his movie with more force than he probably needed to, and he stomped to the door.

The assault on the door didn’t stop, even when Peter yelled ‘Coming!’ to try and ease the banging. It did not succeed. He swung open the door, fuming, the epitome of annoyance as expressed on his face. He was ready to give this newcomer a piece of his mind, what, interrupting his fucking movie night, the audacity-

The words died in his throat as he looked up to launch a deadly glare, only to be met with chocolate brown eyes, flecked with gold, a soft pink cupid’s bow, the presence of stubble beginning to form a goatee, and oh wait, he’s seen this before, wait a minute-

“Tony?” He spluttered, taking a step back as he took in the scene before him. Tony, in a banged up suit he probably used as his transportation, his hand poised to bang at the door again. Tony’s expression mirrored Peter’s, a mixture of shock and confusion. Unlike Peter’s, Tony’s cleared quickly, and formed a new expression-one of almost desperation.

“Look, Parker, I’m sorry alright? I just...I need somewhere to stay tonight,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “forget it. I knew it was stupid to come, sorry for wasting your time I guess,” he muttered, already pivoting on his heel. Without his conscious consent, Peter grabbed Tony’s arm as he turned away. They both froze, neither knowing what Peter did.

“Wait, I...you can stay, Tony. You can come in, I just was watching Empire Strikes Back,” Peter ranted, gently tugging Tony inside. The latter seemed to be in a state of shock, obviously not expecting the positive response.

“Empire Strikes Back? You would be watching that, of all movies,” Tony snarked, recovering quickly from his bout of shock.

“You’re the guest, at least try to be nice,” Peter countered, blushing at the tips of his ears from embarrassment. He huffed, flopping onto his comfortable collection of pillows. He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Tony, who looked a little out of place with his scratched suit. Peter was curious, but didn���t pry-there was obviously something that caused Tony to come in so suddenly.

“Being nice? To Parker? Talk to me when you have an achievable goal,” Tony grumbled, walking around to tour Peter’s apartment. Peter hoped it would be up to his standards. Wait, no he didn’t, Tony’s standards didn’t matter to him. At all.

Peter resumed his movie, soon becoming engrossed in the iconic plotline that he’d seen hundreds of times before, yet it never failed to make him excited. Tony watched his classmate from the shadows, the smile on Peter’s face contagious. His auburn curls, sharp jawline...Picture perfect Tony mused, as the lights from the movie danced across Peter’s angelic features. Tony shook his head, afraid of getting caught in the act-someone that beautiful would never return his feelings.

The depressing thought prompted Tony to emerge from the shadows, gliding over to where Peter was laying down and slumped nearby, resigning himself to the fact he’d have to watch this nerd movie. His suit whirred in the corner, fixing its own malfunctions as Tony had programmed it to.

“I don’t even know what the fuck is going on, Parker,” Tony muttered, the movie’s plot confusing him due to the lack of knowledge in previous films.

Peter just smiled, deciding it would take too long to explain the plot. Tony saw this, and a small smile spread across his face, too. It was nice to have a friend that just accepted you into their home, even if you had no explanation. Well, he couldn’t really tell the boy his explanation. Home was...a bit hard to go to at the moment, not that he’d ever tell Parker. He glanced at the serene expression on Peter’s face again, taking in the pure joy as he watched his seemingly favourite movie. Yeah, he was not gonna spoil that expression. Not ever.

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

The movie’s credits rolled, signifying the end of the movie night. Tony softly blew out through his nose, wondering if it would be overstepping to stay the night. Before he could dig a hole of despair within himself, Peter noticed his obvious inner battle. Deciding to put the rivalry behind him for now, he reached out to Tony, gently touching his arm and effectively grabbing his attention.

“We should head to bed...if you’re ok with that,” Peter murmured, gently tugging Tony’s arm as he stood up.

Tony sucked in a breath at sparks of pleasure that rippled through him as Peter’s hand lingered. He got to his feet, following Peter through the apartment, taking in the few decorations and pictures. He paused at an old picture of an obviously much younger picture of Peter, sitting on a man’s shoulders. He looked so...well, happy. Tony frowned; what had happened? Not wanting to intrude, he tucked the question away for later, and hurried to catch up with Peter.

“So, this is it. The humble abode, I guess,” Peter chuckled nervously, giving a dramatic wave with his hands. Tony looked around, taking in the worn twin bed, well-read books mounted on shelves that looked as if they could fall at any minute, the stained dresser, obviously the victim of many late-night hot chocolate spills. Tony could feel a slight smile tugging at his lips-this felt like Peter.

“Humble, huh. Didn’t know you were a Potter fan,” Tony smirked, gesturing at the aforementioned books. A red blush tinted the teen’s cheeks as he rushed to defend himself.

“I’ll have you know Harry Potter is a very famous series, thank you very much,” he huffed, crossing his arms. The following silence was comfortable, Peter rifling through his dresser as he looked for his pyjamas. He succeeded, muttering a soft ‘aha’ at the victory, and turned to head to the bathroom.

“Get yourself comfy, you can sleep wherever, couch or bed,” Peter stated, trying not to blush for a third time in an hour. He made quick work of changing, exiting the bathroom once he was satisfied with his appearance. A new toothbrush smacked Tony in the back of the head, credits of Peter.

“The fuck, Parker? Why couldn’t you just ask me to turn around,” Tony muttered, grabbing the toothbrush and making his way to the meager bathroom. He cleaned his teeth, checked his face for any signs of, well, outstanding blemishes, and once satisfied, returned to the bedroom. Peter was already in the bed, having turned off the lights and receiving a wave of sleepiness that he couldn’t refuse.

Tony hesitated before quietly sliding in beside Peter, careful not to touch him in hopes of keeping him comfortable. After all, this was Peter’s bed. He shifted, finding the proximity a little too...exciting.

Peter stirred, muttering something incomprohensive that sounded suspiciously like ‘Stop fucking moving,’ which Tony grudgingly obeyed. He found himself drifting sooner than he usually did; maybe it was the company that finally got his eyes to close, who knows. It just felt good to be cared about.

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

“Fuck, harder Tony,” Peter cried out, relishing the feeling of the flogger on his burnt ass, “please. Please Tony, ah!”

Tony whipped mercilessly, painting the teen’s ass and lower back a pretty scarlet colour. He knew Peter loved it, despite the whimpers of pain as he relentlessly assaulted his body, again and again.

“Little slut, begging for me to stop like a good little bitch. Ask me nicely, I might consider,” Tony snarled, drinking in the moans that came tumbling out of Peter’s mouth at the sentence.

“P-please, I promise I’ll be your good little cockslut, please just let me go,” Peter repeated, rolling his eyes back from pleasure. His cock twitched at the constant stimulation, begging for touch, but Peter couldn’t move, the restraints preventing him from relief.

Tony growled, pausing the flogging at 15 hits. “You better live up to that, whore,” he snarled, taking in the sight before him. Peter, bound to the bed face-down, bent over the back, ass on display. His petite frame quivered in anticipation, preparing for more of the flogging.

“Yes, Tony, I promise I’ll be good, no more,” Peter begged, too aroused to care how desperate he might sound. He jerked his hips forward, trying and failing miserably to acquire friction for his painfully hard dick.

Tony untied the restraints slowly, careful not to hurt his lover any more, now that the scene was over. Peter sobbed, reaching down almost immediately to try and relieve his aching cock. Tony slapped Peter’s hand away, taking the matters into his own hands.

“Such a naughty boy, trying to touch yourself without permission. What do we say?” Tony crooned, teasing Peter’s tip. The latter cried out, grinding against Tony’s hand in hopes of release.

“‘M sorry, so sorry, please, please let me-ah!” Peter abruptly cut off his rambling as Tony took him in hand, stroking along his length tantalisingly. Peter sobbed, crying out as the feeling grew. He centered in on the sensation Tony was giving him, pumping his dick with such earnest it was almost too much, the heat building in his lower abdomen, ready to burst-

Peter woke up with a start, acutely aware of his burning arousal. Oh. Oh shit. He just had one of those dreams...about Tony. Who was right next to him. Peter sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. He calculated his options, quickly realising he couldn’t move without waking him up.

He cursed the lack of space in the bed, horror taking over as his arousal became too prominent to ignore. He whined softly into his pillow, at loss with how to deal with the predicament. How did things go so badly wrong so soon?

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Tony elicited a groan in the silence of the room and shifted to that his hip was pressed against Peter’s...problem. He unconsciously bucked into the stimulation, immediately regretting the action as Tony groaned again and moved, if possible, closer to his dick. Well, wasn’t this just amazing.

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

Tony awoke from his sweet abyss of darkness, groaning in annoyance. What had woken him up? He thought he’d heard a whimper, but that couldn’t be right. He shuffled closer to his warm pillow, which promptly moved back against him. Tony froze; pillows weren’t supposed to move. Pillows...also didn’t have a bulge. He recovered quickly, a smirk slowly growing when he realised what had happened here. Parker was hard. So, so hard.

Tony groaned again, this time intentionally shifting against Peter’s bulge to try and gauge how exactly this was going to play out. He was met almost immediately with a response as Peter grinded against him. Tony stifled a moan; it was insanely hot, how responsive Peter was. He was obviously trying to hold back, covering his mouth as he desperately sought relief against Tony. The latter helpfully shifted again, receiving a small squeak in response. Peter’s hand snaked down to his cock, unable to hold back anymore. Tony closed his eyes, savouring this moment-possibly the only time he’d get to be this intimate with his crush, even if he was ‘asleep’.

Peter palmed against his sweats, the pleasure making his breathing uneven as he neared his climax. He felt so bad for doing this with Tony in the same bed, but he was past the point of being able to control his movements. The pressure built up inside him like a spring coiled at it’s base, as he desperately rutted against his hand, when it all became too much-and Peter went rigid. The white-hot pleasure consumed his body, racking through him in wave after wave as he tried to silently ride out his orgasm. The spurts of come soaked his boxers, but Peter was too out of his mind to care as the high slowly came down. His breathing was hard and his sweats were cold and sticky, but the aftershocks of the orgasm jerked his softening cock.

The world slowly came back to him as Peter blinked a couple times, trying to orient himself. The first thing he thought was oh shit, now I’ll have to lie in this mess until Tony wakes up.

That is, until he realised a tiny detail. Tony’s back and hip was completely covered. In. Peter’s. Cum.

Peter looked up slowly, the horror beginning to consume him. His entire body froze when Tony looked right back at him.

[fahhhhq]

Similar but Worlds Apart

Fandom: Narcos + Statesman: Golden Circle

Pairing: Reader x Javier Peña (for now)

Warning: Umm cussing? Is that a thing? Don’t we all say ‘fuck’ by now? Aren’t we all adults here? No? Well I don’t know what you’re doing reading fanfics about Pedro Pascal’s sexy ass if you’re not allowed to curse.

Words: 2.6k (is that a lot? I hope not)

INITIAL SUMMARY: Your heart aches for someone who no one has seen for weeks, but when you get new intel about their whereabouts, you’re on your way to Colombia to follow up, but you’re stunned by what you find.

You got called into your boss’s office and your stomach sank. He hadn’t given you anything to go by and you were going crazy. There was finally news. You entered his massive office, instantly smelling the musky smell of the wood of his furniture.

“We got new intel, a location,” Champ said looking at you with a hint of worry in his eyes.

You felt your stomach drop. “Where?”

“Colombia…” He sat back and stared at you intensely.

“Fuck... What the fuck would he be doing in Colombia?” You said grabbing the folder from Champ’s desk that had the intel he was talking about.

You read it over, sitting down when you saw a picture of him. There was a knot in your throat.

You missed him like crazy.

“Your flight leaves in three hours. Go get your things ready, a car will pick you up. Also, I want you to let me know immediately if you find or see anything, ok?” you shook your head and he shooed you out of his office.

You turned to leave but stopped mid-way. “Thank you for letting me go, Champ.” You said turning to him, feeling hot tears blur your eyes.

“I know what this means to you, Y/n. I know you’ll bring him home”

You smiled through the knot that not only was in your throat but in your stomach, “You can count on me.”

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

The whole flight to Colombia you were a nervous wreck, your leg bouncing up and down until the muscles in your calf burned. This wasn’t just any “mission,” this was your life. He was your life. And there was no way you were going to let him down.

           “A donde?” The taxi driver asked you where you wanted to go when you settled in the backseat. You gave him a paper with the address you were to stay at. You relaxed, watching the Colombian people flourish around laughing and dancing. It was carnaval season, so the streets were filled with tourists and locals in colorful clothes and music. But you couldn’t smile or be happy for them, you were cheerless. You just wanted to find him and go back home.

You arrived at your temporary apartment building and handed the taxi driver a generous tip, “Muchas gracias.” He helped you with your luggage and then he was on his way. You were grateful that you were fluent in Spanish because this is where it was going to come in handy.

It was already past midnight when you entered your new apartment. Exhaustion creeped up, but you didn't care. You arranged all the intel you had on your kitchen table, you were going to find him, even if it was the last thing you did.

After a long night of studying the city that you were in, and where he was spotted, you finally caught up on some much-needed sleep. You dreamt with him, hugging him, kissing him, inhaling his intoxicating scent. But immediately felt sad when you woke and realized that it wasn’t real. You got up, showered and went out to buy some groceries, and to know the town you were going to spend the next few days or weeks in.

After a day of scouting out the places where he was seen, you were exhausted, not physically, but mentally. You walked to a little family restaurant that was near your building, one you had passed by earlier that day. You walked into the little shack and smiled at the lady that was working as a waitress and hostess.

“Hola, nomas tu?” She asked if it was going to be just me, but in a tone that you could only describe as motherly. A tone you hadn’t heard since you were but a child.

“Si, nomas yo,” you smiled at her telling her that it was indeed just going to be you tonight and she walked you to a little homey booth in the back of the restaurant. She handed you the menu and you happily took it. Your stomach was growling at you angrily because with everything going on, you had forgotten to nourish your body and now it was lashing out. The restaurant smelled wonderful and it only made you salivate even more.

“Tomate tu tiempo, ahora vengo,” the lady said to take your time and left you so you could look over the menu. You looked over the menu once, twice, already getting frustrated that you couldn’t figure out what to eat. But your stomach felt weird, like butterflies were having a damn party in there. You knew it wasn’t just your hunger, it was something else.

You looked up from the menu, feeling like someone was watching you, but no one was. I mean, you were a damn Statesman agent, you would have caught a whiff of something if something was off, but it wasn’t. It was just you, you guessed.

But then you turned to the front of the diner and lost your breath and your stomach dropped. It was him, you had found him without actually looking for him. You were stumped. You couldn’t move. His beautiful, big brown eyes bore into you. Making you slightly moan. His jaw was perfectly square, his lips slightly pouty like you loved, the moustache that you loved perfectly fitting his beautiful face.

But it wasn’t him. This was a different man. A man that looked like him.

He looked away from you and talked to the lady that had attended you. She smiled and told him to seat himself, like if he was a regular. He walked to the booth in front of you and sat facing you. But not looking at you. You couldn’t look away. What was happening?

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Maybe you were imagining things.

Nope. No, you weren't.

You opened your eyes and he was now staring at you with a small smile. But you looked at the menu instantly. You felt your cheeks turn red, so you lifted the menu to cover your face. Who does that? You felt awkward, shy, nervous. You just wanted to eat and get the hell out of there, but you only felt angrier cause you still didn't know what to eat.

“Get the sancocho or the arepas. They’re the best in town here.” You heard a low, rough voice coming from the other side of your menu.

Please don’t be talking to me. Please don’t be talking to me!

You lowered your menu from your view and only uncovered your eyes. He had taken off his jacket. He wore a short sleeve sky-blue shirt with a few buttons open that not only accentuated his strong neck, but his olive skin. He looked damn hot.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” he said smiling, looking at his own menu and then at you.

“Uhh,” that’s the only thing that came out of your mouth.

“Que va a ser?” The lady said asked out of the blue, making you jump a little. You just hoped he hadn’t seen that.

You looked at her and then spoke, “Me da el sancocho y una coca?” You ordered what the guy suggested. What the hell right, it’s not like you were just starving and were onlu hoping that the food was as good as he said or you were going to kill a bitch.

She smiled and nodded taking your menu. She walked to the guy’s table and asked him what he too wanted, he said, “Lo mismo pero con una Modelo.” He ordered what he recommended to you, but with the exception of a beer. Now you were wondering if you should have ordered one instead of a coke, because your nerves weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

Now that the lady had taken your menu there was nothing helping you block your view. Damn it.

“You're new here,” he said taking you out of your trance.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, “Umm, yeah. Here on business.”

“Oh,” he said, bobbing his head up and down. Gosh, he was delicious. But what were you thinking, you had someone. But was it bad if he looked like your someone?

“And you?” You asked.

He smiled, “I work here.”

You looked around and waved your hand, “Here? Doesn’t seem like your style.”

He grinned and showcased his straight teeth, “No, not here here. At the embassy.” You remembered seeing the embassy when you went on a trip around town. It wasn’t far from your house, maybe half a mile away.

“Oh, ok, that’s a better fit,” you smiled.

“Is this your first time in Colombia?” He said not taking his eyes off of you while he drank his Modelo.

“Yeah,” You nodded then looked over to the lady that was about to bring you your dinner, your mouth watering. The lady placed the bowl of sancocho in front of you and you almost drooled. It smelled amazing. She then went to the guy’s table and placed his bowl in front of him.

You could feel his smoldering gaze eyeing you as you took a bite of your food. And in order to not look at him, you just closed your eyes and enjoyed the flavors of chicken and spices bursting in your mouth. You must admit, you did groan a little. And you weren't even ashamed of it.

“Its good, huh?” He said. You opened your eyes and he was smiling. So, you smiled, too.

You nodded, “I’m part Mexican, so sancocho is not really part of our culture.”

“I feel you; I wouldn’t trade my tacos and burritos for anything,” he concurred. “But this sancocho is something else.”

“We have that in common,” you said as you ate another spoonful of the succulent sancocho. “And yes, yes, it is.”

Both of you ate in comfortable silence. Each one of you glancing at each other when you came up from eating. It looked like he wanted to keep talking to you but hesitated because of how much you were enjoying your meal.

When you finished, you pushed the plate forward and leaned back. He had already finished minutes ago and was just sitting there, throwing glances at you while he drank another beer. The lady approached you and left your check on the table. You automatically grabbed money and gave it to her. You stood to leave and turned to the guy.

“Uh, thanks for the advice. I guess I’ll see you around because I’ll be coming here again,” you smiled and started to leave but before you even take a step forward, he spoke.

“You're welcome,” he said then downed his beer and stood, leaving a small wad of dollar pesos on the table. “You know it’s not safe to be walking around at this time of the night alone, right? Especially someone like you,” he motioned to your face and body.

You raised a brow, “Someone like me? What, it looks like I can’t defend myself?”

He chuckled, “By appearances, not so much. But I can be wrong. I’ve been wrong a lot of times in my life.”

“And this is one of those times,” you smiled and then turned, lifting the back of your shirt and revealing to him the gun you had hiding behind your jeans. “Never underestimate a girl with pretty makeup.”

He laughed and lifted his hands in a protective matter, “Woah, ok, point taken. Still, I’d feel better if I walked you back to your place. I promise I’m not a stalker, I just know what goes around out there at night, and it’s not good.”

You pondered his request. You didn't feel anything uneasy about him. There was something about his eyes that made you feel safe. Like his eyes did so many other times. You even felt a connection that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was because he looked so much like your guy that you wanted to trust him. And for a weird fucking reason, you did.

You took a deep breath, knowing that he was right. You didn't know the city yet and even if you could take a guy down with one hand tied behind your back, you didn't want to chance it, so you turned to him and nodded, “Fine, but if you try something, I won’t hesitate on shooting your kneecaps. Comprende, amigo?”

He grinned and nodded, leading you out into the warm balmy night. The streets were still scattered with people even if it was close to midnight.

“My name is Javier, Javier Peña,” he extended his hand.

You shake it, “Nice to meet you, Javier. I’m Y/FL/n.” You feel a surge of energy travel your body as you feel the warmth of his hand. Making you feel perplexed by the reaction your body was taking. A feeling only one other man has ever made you experience. And you could see that he had a similar reaction, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, hard.

He cleared his throat, “Do you live far from here?”

You shook your head, “No, like two blocks down south. And you?”

“Same.”

“So, what do you do at the embassy?” You ask, making small talk so the walk home isn't so awkward.

“Oh, you know…” he says casually.

You shake your head looking at him, “No, I don’t know.”

“I work for the DEA. So, if you're a drug dealer, let me know so I can take you in right now,” he smiles looking at you quizzingly.  

You laugh and roll your eyes, “Like I’d tell you now.”

He laughes, “You don’t seem like the type either way, even if you're carrying an Eagle pistol…” Javier gives you a questioningly look.

You just laugh, enjoying the witty banter being thrown between each other. It was easy.

You roll your eyes and give a small chuckle, “Ok, fine, I’ll tell you the truth, I work for a really, really secret spy organization.” You say kidding but not kidding.

He raises an eyebrow, smirking, “Oh, yeah?”

You nod, “Mhm, and our code names are based off alcoholic beverages.”

“And what’s your super-secret spy name?” Javier asks still smirking.

You shrug, “I’m obviously Agent Vino.”

He grins, “Obviously?”

“Well I can sometimes be sweet like a nice refreshing Moscato, or sometimes I can be sensual like a good pinot noir, or I can be like Chardonnay and be intense and strong,” you say confidently.

He seems surprised, “I like that. I don’t know you, but by first impressions that name fits you well. Now, what other agents are there?”

“Let me see…” You pretend to think about it, “Well there’s Agent Champagne, Agent Whiskey, Agent Tequila, Agent Ginger Ale, among others, obviously.”

He raises an eyebrow, “That’s quite the list. What do you think my name would be?”

You look at him, thinking it through, and only one name is coming to mind, but that one is already taken, which the only other option you can think of is the matching alternative, but not the same. “You’d be Agent Scotch.”

He stops a bit, looks at you with an amused look and then continues to walk beside you, “That’s one of my favorite drinks, apart from whiskey.”

You die internally, of course it is. “Im a good judge of character, what can I say?” you shrug.

“Now why would I be Agent Scotch?” He seems entertained.

Because you’re exactly like my Agent Whiskey…

You know sadness and worry is written all over your face, so you quickly discard those thoughts. “You’re very smooth, that’s for sure, but like scotch you’re also mature, and you only get better with age. And you have a bite to you that stays with a person even way after they’ve experienced you...”

He stops and looks at you with something like admiration and wonder, “You really are something.”

You stop and turn to Javier, seeing so much of your Whiskey, but seeing someone so different. Someone unique. “Yeah?”

Javier beamed, staring at you, and he wasn’t only making eye contact with you, but it was something else. Like he was penetrating you, baring you, figuring you out. Scaring you but enticing you, nonetheless. Almost making you forget why you were really in Colombia in the first place.

You were in BIG trouble…

Taggity-Tags: @shikin83 @readsalot73 @otherthingsinhead @batata-elegante​ @maryan028​ @stxriss​ @fleurdemiel145​ 

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 12)

Damian kept his eyes on Marinette. 

She had been off all day, and their talk that morning had only proven his suspicions. Something was bothering her, and it was all Adrien Agreste’s fault. His fists clenched as the woman in front of him began working on him. Thinking about that blonde tom cat made his blood boil. Whatever he did, Damian would kill him for it. His cousin was sweet and naive despite her vast genius. She wanted to trust people, and when she did, she did it with her whole heart. And that blonde buffoon had broken it in to a million pieces. 

It wasn’t just the boy though, no. It was also that stupid video, it had to be. He hadn’t enjoyed it when it was sent to his phone. It was messy and loud, and while he had misjudged the small blonde girl, he still thought the spectacle was stupid. Anyone who poked a cadged animal was stupid, and that was obviously what that Italian girl was.  

At least he was finally able to put a face to the name of Lila Rossi.

It was a tactical failure for sure. His cousin had mentioned that she had everything involving the girl under control, but this was not what she could have planned. Marinette looked like she was on the verge of puking all morning, Damian recognized regret easily enough. That had been why he’d tried to talk to her, only to find out that it was the mistake of the morning and something that awful model had done that was upsetting her. 

Now his phone was being blown up with messages from the small blonde french girl who was, for some reason, still in his phone as ‘Sweetness.’ She wouldn’t stop texting him, hadn’t since the video had arrived. She apparently got the wrong idea from their earlier correspondence and was now under the impression that they were friends. And she kept asking for pictures of him and Colin.

Said boy was currently the one in possession of his phone. His boyfriend was switching between gleefully rewarching the video with a wickedly satisfied grin and texting with the blonde girl. Damian found the whole thing ridiculous, seeing how Colin didn’t know any French. Yet somehow he and the girl were holding some sort of conversation and he was, apparently, taking immense joy from the video that he couldn’t even understand. 

Suddenly a brush was in his face, painting foundation onto his skin. Damian could make a list fifty feet long detailing how much he hated makeup. He would growl at the woman currently caking his face in the disgusting stuff, but Colin was sitting in front of him on the edge of the platform, and the last thing he needed was for the redhead to be mad at him.

Marinette was currently in a changing room, trying on the brand new outfit Edna’s people had slapped together in just under an hour and a half. Chloé was, strangely, also in the changing room his cousin was in. The two girls had been inseparable from one another’s sides since coming back from lunch. 

It was strange. 

Damian didn’t like it. 

The blonde bitch was surely just trying to get his cousin to stop being upset with her precious model, which would not fly while Damian was here. He wouldn’t let Marinette be manipulated like that. Honestly, she was far too trusting. And here he thought she knew better than to trust that bitch. He’d have to talk to her later about Bourgeois. Even if Jon liked her, something was off about the girl, a feeling he couldn’t rip from his gut despite trying for the half Kryptonian’s sake. 

Damian’s eyes scanned the room, his mind suddenly being alerted to an absence. Something was missing. Someone was missing. The person’s absence had been nagging at him all morning, but then the empty space was filled during lunch. But it was gone now once again. 

“Colin.” he nudge the boy’s back with his foot. “Where did Jon go?” 

“Dunno, he got a call from his dad and wandered off to take it in private.” Colin looked up, neck twisted to stare at his boyfriend. “It’s actually weird, because he was on the phone with his mom all morning.” 

“Why did Lois call him?”

“I don’t know.” The redhead shrugged. “But it seemed like it really messed with him. I tried to ask him about it but then Mr. Kent called and he disappeared.” Colin’s eyes went back to Damian’s phone, texting out a few more messages before looking back at his boyfriend. “Actually, I haven’t seen Mr. Wayne around either. Do you know where he is?” 

“He informed me last night that their was some business he had to attend to, something to do with Diana Prince’s exhibit at The Gotham Museum of Antiquities.” Damian leaned back in his seat, the look Colin gave him making it clear he understood the code. A Justice League Emergency.  “He said he should be back before the festivities at the end of the week.” 

“Do you know what happened?” Colin asked, turning his whole body to face the boy, scooting over a tad so that the makeup artist wasn’t blocking his view. “At the museum, I mean.” 

Damian shook his head, his chin quickly being grabbed by the woman working on him, forcing him to stay still. He bit back a growl before responding. “Wouldn’t tell me a word. Maybe Kent’s filling Jon in on it. If my father’s involved I would assume his father is as well.” 

Colin tried not to laugh at his boyfriend’s obvious discomfort. “Guess we’ll just have to wait for him then.” Colin turned back around, eyes going back to the phone. “God she is so nice,” He whispered. 

“How are you even holding a conversation with her?” Damian asked. 

“Rose is fluent in four languages, English being one of them.” Colin smiled back at him. “I think I’ve made a new best friend.” he teased. Damian just sighed. Between his cousin and his boyfriend, he was never going to get his phone back. 

Suddenly Colin’s head whipped back around. “Wait, what would Mrs. Lane have to do with the museum?” 

Damian thought for a moment. Lois wasn’t overly involved in Justice League affairs. She was a deputized civilian, meaning she was technically a League member. It was a complicated system that was hard to explain and sometimes difficult even for Damian to decipher. But he did know that Lois handled the bulk of the League's publicity. Thanks to how she handled Superman, and a handful of other heroes, before she even knew their identities. 

But what kind of disruption could need Lois, Clark, Bruce, and Diana?

“I don’t know.” Damian resisted the urge to rub his chin. The only thing involving the League and Lois at the current moment was Lex Luthor Senior. The man had been in jail for several months now and his trial was quickly approaching. They’d tried to get that man arrested on several charges including tax fraud, terrorism, and other things, for many year, but nothing ever stuck. But now, now they had him on attempted murder, attempted murder of Lois Lane. Usually this wouldn’t fly, with the public knowing Lois’s loyalties to Superman and the League it would be assumed anything she said to reflect negatively on Luthor would be for the heroes, but they had a witness now. 

“The case maybe?” He whispered, hoping to god nothing bad had happened. If that man got out so many things would go up in flames. He would have to get in touch with Tim, ask him to ask Conner. He hated Conor being so involved with his half brother, put if Lex Jr. really was so great, maybe he would have some useful information. 

“Case?” Colin asked.

“Look up Lois Lane and Lex Luthor, see what pops up.” Damian turned his attention back to the woman currently painting his lips an ice blue. He didn’t want to discuss such sensitive things carelessly out in public. He also didn’t want Jon to magically appear while they were discussing it. He knew the whole situation was bothering him. But, no one took the attempted murder of their parent well. At least, that’s what Damian’s experience told him. 

… 

Marinette was living for this redesign. 

The tube top had been changed to black, the shall had disappeared, a silver collar, like Chloé’s golden one, now adorned her neck. Instead of the skirt she now wore a pair of high waisted black short shorts, a thick silver belt wrapped around her abdomen. Silk straps in silver, lavender, dark blue, and a lighter black made up the overskirt that hid most of the shorts, only exposing them from the front few. She was also now given shoes, heeled gladiator boots in silver, matching all of her jewelry. The diadem, earrings and bracelets from earlier had also stayed apart of the outfit. 

Was it less revealing? No. 

If anything it was more so. 

But it was a million times more fashionable, and by Edna’s smile said that she knew it too. 

Marinette still felt awful, and if anything was a million times more confused after her talk with Chloé, which was still on going. Every time they had a break, the blonde girl would start whispering more of her story, basically retelling the past three years from her perspective. 

Chloé was in her outfit from earlier that morning, the two girls were on a platform filled with fake pink, orange, blue, and whtie clouds. Currently Marinette’s back was leaned against the blonde’s, repositioning her head as the photographer dictated. 

“I’m a little pissed.” Chloé whispered. “The boy’s get to-” The flash of the camera went off, several photos being taken. “Get to do their photoshoot with bows and arrows. Like that’s so unfair.” 

“Bows and arrows?” Her cousin? Angry at Adrien? With a bow and arrow in his proximity? That would not be good. 

“Totally unfair, I want to play with weapons too.” Chloé’s pout only lasted a moment before the photographer was ordering them to pose in different positions. The group shots the other day hadn’t been awful, mainly because she was only taking pictures with Damian. It was beyond strange to be all over Chloé, especially with how sensitive her thoughts towards the girl currently were. 

She had known.

She had known for years.

She’d been akumatized multiple times with knowledge of both her and her partner’s identities in her head and Hawkmoth never found out. She didn’t even know how that was possible. Just how much control did Hawkmoth really have? 

But possibly what had taken her by surprise the most, what she still couldn’t quite believe, was that her sweet, idiotic, adorable partner, outed himself with Physics. 

“Physics?” Marinette was in disbelief at the blonde’s words, her sandwich barely half eaten.

Chloé simply nodded. “Yup.” She leaned forward, having laid down on the bed, she propped her chin on her hands. “See, back before Adri started school, I would go over to his house and try and get him to do some of my homework for me, cause he’s crazy smart ya know?” 

“I think only Max can surpass him in book smarts.” Marinette nodded. 

“Well, he would never actually do anything for me. But he’d explain everything.” Chloé rolled her eyes. “Adrien has a very specific way he explains things, especially physics.” She leaned forward a little further. “So, when Ladybug instructed Chat Noir to watch over me after Nathaniel got akumatized I tried to get him to do my homework.” 

“Oh my god.” Marinette mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. 

“And he started explaining in that special Adrien way. He even said, ‘You go this Chlo’ which is what he always said whenever I would get frustrated while he was helping me.” 

“Physics.” The bluenette mumbled, after swallowing. “I always thought he’d out himself with a pun.” 

“You okay?” Chloé’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, Marinette blinked a few times, smiling at the woman touching up her lipstick. The woman smiled back before leaving the platform. 

“Fine.” Marinette huffed. “Just lost in thought.

“I know everything we talked about was a lot, sorry to dump it on you so suddenly.” Chloé looked down, eyes on her clasped hands. 

“Honestly, it was probably for the best. If you hadn’t told me when you did I would have just been worrying about it all day long.” Marinette’s hand raised, landing on Chloé’s shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. “But you do know that I’ve got to tell Adrien, or if you want to-” 

“I think I’d prefer it if you did.” Marinette nodded. 

“Alright girls!” The photographer clapped. “I want Artemis laying on that cloud, and Apollo on her stomach on that one!” He pointed as he spoke, both girls going where told, adjusting their bodies at the man’s command. 

Marinette’s eyes ran over the room before focusing back on the camera. Damian still wasn’t in his outfit. It still hadn’t been fetched from Italy. Edna had mentioned Violet’s younger brother. The bluenette’s mind was filled with memories from her last visit to the Mode Building, when she’d first met Violet and a very eager eleven year old who would not stop aggressively hitting on her. 

If who she thought was really going to collect this garment, she could only hope that he wouldn’t be let up onto the floor where the shoot was happening. Violet probably wouldn’t allow it. She’d collect it from him in the lobby or something and bring it up herself. 

She’d just been dealing with so much today, she didn’t know if she could handle-

‘ ding ’

She really did have the most fantastic luck.

The elevator door slid open, a short muscular fourteen year old sauntering out with a black garment bag slung over his shoulder. A self satisfied smirk plastered across his chiseled jaw. His cheekbones hard and square, the bridge of his sloped nose splashed with light brown freckles. His blonde hair was swept back, resembling someone who’d just gone for a joy ride in a ferrari. He swaggered across the room, a free hand stuck deep into his khaki slacks. His clothing suggesting he’d just come from a private school of sorts.

“Have no fear!” He announced, holding up his free hand. “Your hero is here!” He pressed it to his chest, mumbling something along the lines of “hold the applause please.” 

Violet came into the room from behind him, smacking him across the back of the head and snatching the bag out of his hand. “You’re late.”

“Ow!” He said very pointedly at her, so pointedly that Marinette doubted it actually hurt. “You said asap, well, I had a test.” 

“Like you actually try in any math class.” She walked past him, taking the garment straight to the changing rooms, several other assistants flocked to her, checking the outfit for possible damages from transit. 

The boy shot his sister a dirty look before turning his attention to Edna, the woman was standing in the middle of the room. “Dashiell!” She called, arms open wide. 

“Edna!” He opened his own arms, but instead of hugging they high fived, resulting in a complicated handshake that reminded Marinette of her and her cousin’s own. “So good to see you!” 

“I trust you had no trouble?” The woman asked. 

“Not an ounce.” He smiled wide. “I assure you, I took this job as seriously as possible, I even went a longer root so that I would be on the water for the shortest time possible.” Marinette didn’t know Dash well, but she did know he was god awful at keeping his secret identity underwraps. She had never been more thankful for the fact that a specific person didn’t know she was a superhero. 

“Who is that?” Chloé whispered harshly to her. 

“Dash Parr.” Marinette said dryly, watching as Edna handed Dash a thick stack of American dollars. “Violet’s little brother.” 

“So, we don’t like him?” The blonde asked. 

“As promised, double the normal fee, in assorted bills.” Edna said, patting Dash’s hand once the money was in his grip. 

“Happy I could be of assistance.” 

“And if your parents ask?” The short woman’s eyebrow quirked up. 

“As far as mom knows, I just wanted to see my lovely sister.” The boy’s grin turned into a smirk. “And as far as dad’s concerned, I ran across an ocean today in under three minutes.” Dash winked, the two girls, and several other workers, watched as Edna pulled a fifty dollar bill from her coat, placing it on top of Dash’s stack. 

“Always a pleasure Dashiell.” She patted the boy’s cheek before turning back to the photographer. 

Marinette was hopeful for a moment, finally responding to Chloé’s question. “It’s not necessarily that we don’t like him.” The boy turned, most likely to leave, but for a moment he faced Marinette and Chloé’s platform. His eyes locked on her. And suddenly he was walking towards them. 

All hope was lost. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheg!” he called. 

“Cheg?” Chloé whispered. 

Marinette held back her grimace. “Hi Dash.” She bit out through clenched teeth. 

“Well,” His eyes ran up and down her body and Marinette had never felt more icky in her entire life. “Don’t you just look awesome.” 

Chloé’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you?” She whispered, watching as Dash hopped up on the platform. He was a few inches shorter than Marinette, meaning he was several inches shorter than Chloé. 

“Fourteen gorgeous,” Dash winked at her and Chloé’s face twisted immediately. 

“Oh god no.” She spat. 

“How’ve you been Mar-Mar?” He asked, leaning against one of the clouds, he immediately began to flex. 

“Mar-Mar?” Chloé asked, eyes narrowing. “What is happening?” She began looking around, trying to find someone to explain. Damian had been shoved into a changing room now that his garment was here, and Adrien was getting his makeup touched up for his and Damian’s shoot. 

Chloé was curious as to what would happen when the boy noticed, but seeing as Gabriel was in attendance today, she thought it best not to draw his attention. When she turned her attention back to Marinette, the girl’s face had grown extremely pensive. The short blonde boy was bragging about how much he could bench press. 

Chloé took a step closer to the girl, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “No, seriously,” She hissed. “Who is this kid?” 

Marinette only shook her head. Both girls turning back to face Dash as he launched into a story about how the entire cheerleading team was currently arguing over who he’d be taking to prom. “Course I haven’t said yes to anyone yet.” He winked at Marinette again, this time Chloé was close enough to feel the girl shiver. “Incase a special little lady shows up intime.” 

Chloé grabbed Marinette’s hand, unsure what else to do in the moment. 

“DASH!” All three of them jumped at the noramly calm Violet’s angry shout. “Oh my god! Get off of there! We are in the middle of a shoot.” Violet reached up and grabbed Dash’s ear. She yanked him off the platform that surprised Chloé but didn’t seem to phase Marinette. 

“Ow! Ow! OW! Violet!” The boy cried. 

“No!” Violet began to march toward the elevators. “No! No! No! You need to leave now! You are disrupting the shoot! Demarcus!” a large black man suddenly appeared, he was dressed in a nice suit and was very obviously security. “Please escort Dash here out of the building, in fact, make sure he leaves the city.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Demarcus took Dash’s arm. “If you’d come with me please sir.” 

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Vi!” 

“What?” Violet crossed her arms, face set in a glare.

“There are a bunch of robot pigeons that keep showing up at the house, and Mom is starting to get really frustrated cause JackJack keeps fighting them and-”  

“Oh my god.” Violet slapped her forehead. “Okay, just please leave. I’ll talk to Hiro.” Violet turned away as the door closed on Dash and Damarcus. “Jesus christ I hate all of them.”

Chloé slowly turned to Marinette, releasing the girl’s hand. “No seriously,” She said. “What-who was that? What just happened?” 

Marientte sighed, slumping against one of the clouds. “That was Dashiell Robert Parr.” 

“I hated that.” Chloé said. “I never want to experience that again in my entire life.” 

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” The bluenette crossed her arms. “He’s a lot.”

“He called you Mar-Mar Dupain-Cheg.” Chloé pointed out. “Like, what the hell? Cheg? Mar-Mar?” Chloé looked around, almost like she was trying to find proof of what she just experienced. “Did I dream that?” 

“More like nightmared it.” Marinette commented. 

Chloé stared at her wide eyed. “Mar-Mar.” Chloé said monotone. “And I thought Bugaboo was a stupid nickname.” 

… 

Adrien rolled his shoulders, trying to regain some sense of comfort now that he was strapped into the white silk tank top. Thick leather straps in brass and gold had been draped tastefully around his abdomen, then wrapped tightly  around his bare arms, constricting his muscles to the point where it was hard to move. But he didn’t want to make the jobs of the two men working on sorting his outfit any more difficult than it had to be, so he stayed as still as possible. 

“God she’s a genius.” He had heard something along those lines so many times in the past two days, he’d lost count. He had greatly underestimated just how much Edna Mode was worshiped by her followers. Not that he disagreed, or not a lot, but he definitely thought that for some of the designs he’d seen so far, Marinette could easily make a better version. His point only being proved by Marinette’s amazing redesign of her own outfit that very morning. 

And she did that while not even functioning at a hundred percent. 

It was pretty obvious to Adrien that his partner had been off all morning. Heck, he had been off all morning. He was hoping to talk to her over lunch, see if he couldn’t help her and maybe discuss some things that had been distressing him as well. But Chloé had dragged her off before Adrien could even get to her. 

Now that was distressing. 

The two girls showed back up to the shoot together an hour and a half later, looking thick as thieves. While the thought of his oldest friend and his best friend (best female friend as Nino was his best male friend and that was the only way he could sort them in good conscience because they both meant so much to him) finally getting along made him so happy, he would be lying if he said their time alone didn’t worry him. 

One of the men wrapped a gaudy golden belt around his middle, it was thick and rested heavily against his hips, but he didn’t complain. “You really do look like an everyday adonis.” The other man commented. 

“Thank you.” Adrien gave a polite smile as one of the men started adjusting the straps that fell over the belt. Soon four sets of hands were at work on the straps hanging off the slim dark brown pants he wore. A woman came over, fixing his quiffed hair to be a bit more messy. Edna had referred to the style as ‘sex hair’ but he preferred to think of it as a windswept look. Once the woman was done with his hair she moved on to his neck, placing a heavy golden collar around his throat, letting it rest against his shoulders. It reminded him of a cat collar. 

Next to him stood Damian. The boy wore a black vest with silver accents, his arms wrapped in similar leather straps to Adrien’s, but his were colored silver and ice blue. He wore loose black slacks, silver leather straps hanging off the sides of his hips in hooped fashion, the straps having similar black details to the vest. 

In terms of jewelry, Damian had a silver collar like Adiren’s gold one, but he did not have a belt like Adrien. Instead Damian’s wrists were clad in long gauntlet like silver bracelets. He also had a silver diadem placed on his forehead. A brilliant blue stone set in its center, it matched Marinette’s eyes well, and also matched the matte color Damian’s lips had been painted. 

“You know, when Edna referred to these as strappy ensembles, I was kind of hoping she was kidding.” Adrien said, eyes moving back to focus on his reflection.

“Edna doesn’t kid, especially when it comes to her work.” Damian’s voice was monotone, his hands raised to push back the curls of his bangs.

“Seems like that runs in the family.” Adrien whispered, hoping Damian hadn’t heard him once the words left his mouth. “So…” God, this silence hurt. 

“We don’t need to talk while this happens.” Damian said, eyes firm on his reflection, it looked like he was glaring at himself.  

“Oh-o-okay.” Adrien looked down, as the woman who put the collar on him placed a golden diadem on his forehead. His stone was a much darker blue, possibly Lapis Lazuli but he wasn’t sure. All the knowledge he had in regards to gemstones came from Steven Universe. 

“Couple of Princes the two of you.” The woman said, smiling at the boys. “No wonder Edna fought so hard for you.” 

“She fought for him, I agreed rather seamlessly.” Damian corrected. “Am I done?” He looked over at her, eyes cold. 

“Oh, um yes.” 

“Good.” Damian walked away from the two, going to sit down on one of Edna’s platforms that’s only purpose, Adrien was roughly seventy-percent certain, was to make the woman taller. His boyfriend greeted him cheerfully, but seemed to be mainly preoccupied with Damian’s phone.

“Well isn’t he a ray of sunshine.” The woman commented, resting her hand on her hip as she cocked it out. 

“No kidding.” Adrien whispered, eyes downcast. It didn’t necessarily bother him when people didn’t like him, he’d had fans and haters since day one of his career. But it was bothering him that someone so important to Marinette disliked him, or at least it seemed like Damian didn’t like him. Adrien could see Damian in the mirror, he was glaring at him. 

It also didn’t help that he’d had a knot in his stomach since he found out Marinette’s plan that morning. Nino’s video only amplifying his pains. While he didn’t like Lila, and knew she needed to be stopped, he couldn’t help but think there was a better way to do it then publicly humiliate her in front of the whole school. She wasn’t a good person but she wasn’t down right evil, she deserved a little sympathy. 

Or maybe Adrien was just too nice. Which was something Chloé had insisted that morning when he complained about not liking what was happening. Plagg had agreed with her when Adrien relayed the story to him. Saying that Adrien was far too forgiving for his own good, and insisting once again, that it was okay to be angry with someone. He knew that. He wasn’t a child. Nor was he as innocent and helpless as people around him seemed to think. He just didn’t like conflict. 

He wished, once again, that he could have discussed these feelings with Marinette at lunch. He knew he would feel better once he talked things out with her, he always did. That is why he originally started visiting her as Chat Noir. Marinette, as herself or as his lady, she always made things better, made people feel better, made him feel better. He just needed a few minutes with her, to discuss what happened, explain why it caused him such unrest. He needed to hear her side. Needed to talk to her, or maybe just be in her close proximity again, after she dodge him all morning long. 

Just a few minutes. 

She was like a battery, super charging him whenever she was near. 

Suddenly a large ornate golden bow was handed to the blonde boy. It was heavy in his hands, and he had to wonder amidst his marveling at the details, if this was a real weapon. Had someone just handed him, a sixteen year old boy, a real weapon? 

He looked around, sure this must be a mistake, but instead of someone taking the thing away, he was taken by the arm. One of the men from earlier leading him to the platform, a forest scene. His stage for the next photoshoot. A photoshoot that involved weapons? 

He saw someone handing Damian a silver bow identical to his golden one. Adrien couldn’t put his finger on why, but it made his stomach drop. Now Damian had a weapon, a real weapon. That couldn’t be a good idea. This couldn’t be right. There had to be a mistake of some kind, right? 

Suddenly he was on the platform. Damian facing him across the fake grass. His eyes still set in a galre. Adrien gulped. He had an awful feeling. 

“Okay!” The photographer shouted. “So I want these photos to have a bit more aggression to them. You boys think you can give me that aggressive vibe?” 

“Yes.” 

“Maybe.” 

Damian’s quick answer only made the blonde boy even more nervous. 

“Good!” The bald man clapped his hands. “Someone give them their arrows.” 

Arrows!?

… 

Damian couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across his features as he placed his arrow against the bow’s string. It felt good, natural. You never forget, it’s like riding a bike. Weapons always made him feel so comfortable. He knew how to deal with weapons, unlike people. 

His cousin was in distress, and now she was avoiding him. She was upset because of Adrien Agreste. He upset her and she was still worried about him, it was obvious. She was worried Damian would do something, which he wouldn’t of course. But he wanted to. He wanted to do something to make her feel better. 

“Wouldn’t piercing that pretty face with an arrow make her feel better?” Something wicked whispered in his ear. The voice was icky and made his skin crawl, evil. It sounded like his grandfather, but at the same time like his mother. 

Hurting Adrien wouldn’t make her feel better, just Damian. 

He pulled the drawstring back, stopping when it grazed the corner of his lips. The photographer told them to do it, but Adrien wasn’t doing it quite right. Someone had to get up on the platform and help him, show him how to position it correctly. 

He reminded Damian of a baby deer, fumbling on new legs.

“Easy Pray.” The voice whispered. 

It was like riding a bike. His senses were always on fire, acutely aware of how to take down everyone around him. Even with all the training, all the philosophies his father had spent years shoveling into his head, his inner assassin never slept. His beast was always awake, waiting for a week spot in Damian’s defenses, waiting to break out and cause havoc. 

Damian barely registered the flashes of the camera. 

He was so angry, the longer he stared at Adrien’s face. The blonde’s glare was fake, he knew that. The boy didn’t seem like he had it in him to hate. Damian had too much capacity for hate, or so people told him. 

Damian’s glare was real. 

He had a large capacity for hate, currently that hate was mostly directed towards Adrien. Marinette trusted too easily, she trusted her heart to people too easily. Why would she pick someone to love who could hurt her so easily? 

More flashes, he registered these even less. 

They were told to walk forward a few paces, they both did. Adrien had to have that same assistant come and help him reposition his bow. How was he a hero? How was Paris not destroyed? How was his cousin still alive with a partner who was so useless, with a partner who so carelessly hurt her. 

“He hurt her.” 

Did he care that he hurt her? Damian hadn’t seen the two of them speak since Adrien left them that morning. Adrien was avoiding Marinette, that was the only explanation. Of course, he was hurting her and he knew it. 

“He wants her to hurt.”

Damian was so angry. 

... 

“Now some without the bows!” Edna had clapped, clapping while giving orders, it was something she had always done. But Damian had lost focus on the world around him, he was just so angry. He’d lost focus. The noise startled him. 

He hadn’t meant to. 

He didn’t mean to. 

His eyes widened as a scream filled the room. It was his cousin, he knew that. She screamed. Marinette screamed and then his arrow sunk deep into the fake bark of a prop tree. He’d missed Adrien by a millimeter, he was sure there was a cut on the blonde’s cheek. It wouldn’t be more than a hair's breadth. But it would be there. 

Edna would know it. 

Marinette would know it. 

Damian knew it. 

He wasn’t trained to miss. He always hit his target. Not always lethally, but he always hit them. He had just been so angry. He was startled. He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t. It was an accident, he was startled. 

“Damian!” 

“Oh my god!” 

“Adrien!” 

Suddenly Marinette and Chloé were on the platform. The girls flanking the blonde’s sides. For his worth, Adrien hadn’t moved. It was like the arrow hadn’t even phased him. All he had done was lower his weapon. 

Enda was at Damian’s side. He hadn’t lowered the bow yet. She ripped it from his hands. She was yelling at him but he wasn’t quite registering it yet. He had been startled and his hand slipped. 

Marinette’s eyes hurt. 

His eyes had the power to cut people, cut them down, crush their strength, strike fear. Her eyes had the power to hurt, to cause hearts to break. He felt that hurt, felt his chest ache as she stared at him, eyes narrowed, frown set. 

Adrien had hurt her. 

Damian had hurt him. 

Had Damian hurt her?

“Damian what the hell was that!” He was hit by the bow, his head ached now along with his heart. Edna was still at his side, she was fuming. 

“I-” He didn’t know what to say, honestly. He hadn't meant to. His fingers slipped, he was startled and it made him release. It was an accident. “I don’t know.” He whispered. 

“You don’t know?!” Edna shouted. “You shot at him!” 

“I’m fine Ms. Mod-Enda. Really, I am.” Adrien raised his hands, why was he trying to help? Damian had just shot at him. 

“Adrien you’re hurt.” Marinette’s fingers traced the cut, the boy flinched barely. Tender flesh. Damian knew she’d be able to see it. 

“It’s just a cut.” The blonde whispered. 

“Edna that psychopath just shot an arrow at my son!” Gabriel Agreste’s voice cut through the crowd. Now the asshole cared? Damian couldn’t help the thought. 

“Why are these real arrows?” Chloé asked, getting Marinette’s attention. “Shouldn’t they just be props?”

“Did you seriously give him a real weapon?” Marinette’s words were quieter, but Damian caught them. He was dangerous with weapons, everyone in his family knew that. They feared him when he was armed. 

“Edna.” Gabriel pulled the woman a way. 

Damian had to wonder if he would be getting sent home. They were only two days into the shoot. His father wasn’t here to defend him. Would Father defend him? Edna could easily replace him, eat into a few safety days to reshoot. Maybe it was for the best? If a Justice League emergency was brewing they might need him. 

They wouldn’t ask him to leave, he would ask to be dismissed. It was only right after all. He caused such an incident. He should leave. They would want him to. 

Damian stepped down from the platform. He felt an odd sort of emptiness, not even necessarily regret. Just nothingness. He was used to that feeling, it was much safer than anything remotely close to an emotion. 

Suddenly he was grabbed by the arm and pulled off to a secluded corner. He hadn’t even registered the person until they were yelling at him in harsh whispers. 

“Damian what the fuck was that?!” Oh, it was his boyfriend. 

The dark skinned boy blinked a few times, probably more times than necessary, but he still wasn’t quite back yet. Still wasn’t quite sure what had happened. His eyes focused on Colin. He was angry, it was obvious, he was disappointed. 

With focus came his emotions, back and at full force. 

They hurt like a bitch. 

Marientte was upset with him, he hurt her. Edna was upset with him, she was angry with him. Colin was disappointed with him. Colin was disappointed in him. “I-I’m I don’t-” Damian tried to figure out his words but everything wasn’t quite back yet, not back in focus. 

“Damian you just shot that kid with a freaking arrow!” The redhead growled. “Why? Why did you do that? What the hell was that!” 

“I-don’t know.” He finally managed. God, now he was the baby deer wasn’t he? 

“You don’t know?” Colin hissed. “Damian you almost killed him!” 

“It was just a scratch.” Defensive. He was defending himself, his actions, that’s right. Because he’d messed up, he’d slipped up. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“You didn’t mean to?” Colin asked, eyes scrutinizing. “Damian you aimed, you shot, you hit him.” His jaw was set. “Why? Why did you do that? What the hell Damian!” 

He’d only used his full name this whole time. No nicknames, no shortening it, no pet names. It was strange, but that hurt more than Marinette’s eyes. 

“I don’t know.” Damian choked. “I don’t-I didn’t mean to. Enda startled me and I just let go-my finger slipped I didn’t mean to.” He was drowning, that’s what it felt like. Colin was so angry at him. He had never seen Colin angry at him quite like this. Though, typically, when Damian hurt people, far past the point that he should have, it was a very bad man. Sometimes Colin even helped him. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Damian whispered, eyes falling to the floor. 

He should apologize, shouldn’t he? Yes, say he was sorry for hurting the model. He should apologize to Colin and Marinette and Enda. So they wouldn’t be hurt or angry or disappointed any more. But the problem with him wanting to apologize was that he could never get the words out. 

Colin sighed, turning away from Damian. His head shook as he began walking away. He was still angry and hurt and disappointed. And Damian still couldn’t breath or focus right. He was in trouble, his father would be upset. Everyone was upset. 

He headed for the changing rooms as quickly as possible. He needed to be out of this environment. He needed to be somewhere else. 

He needed to breath. 

… 

Well, today was just going swimmingly. 

First Damian got woken up and torn away from his warm and cuddly boyfriend. Then that distressing video. Then his cousin, who was obviously upset, wouldn’t talk to him. Then Colin stole his phone and got a brand new best friend in the form of some random french girl. Then he tried to defend his cousin’s honor, but instead got yelled at by his boyfriend and aunt and by Gabriel Agreste. And his cousin, his cousin looked so upset with him. Colin wasn’t talk to him either. He was being ignored and possibly suffered a panic attack in the changing room, but wasn’t quite sure. He’d never been good at diagnosing his own symptoms, just the symptoms of others. 

And now Damian was alone, going back to his room to take Titus for a walk. He needed to blow off steam. Today had been awful. He needed to move around, be angry and sad and mostly alone, but walking Titus would help, it had to help. 

The elevator opened and he began walking down the hall, but stopped when he noticed a figure in the small lobby area. The tall muscular boy leaning against the window, all his focus directed towards something outside. Damian recognized him immediately as Jon Kent.

That was the other thing. 

What the hell was going on with the Justice League and the two boys’ fathers.

“You okay Kent?” The boy didn’t turn around at his name. He didn’t even respond. That wasn’t good. 

Damian took several steps forward, slowly. He reached out and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, the boy didn’t move a muscle. “Jon?” Damian asked, voice a little softer. “Are you alright?” 

“Trisha Bailey was killed last night.” His voice was emotionless, and Damian took note that the boy wasn’t wearing his glasses. “It was a hit and run.”

“Trisha Bailey?” The name sounded very familiar but it took Damian a moment to place it, when he did, his stomach dropped. “No.”  

“Lex Luthor was released from prison this morning.” Jon’s face grew angrier. “No witness, no crime. Or whatever.” He spat. “Forget the fact that man had mercenaries hired to kill my mother. Forget that he planted bombs to killer. Snipers following her. Hitmen. All so she wouldn’t write a damn article.” His fists clenched against the glass window. 

“Jon calm down.” Damian increased the pressure of his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Lex-” The boy’s Jaw clenched. “Lex Jr. stopped returning Conor’s calls. He also left the country late last night.” Jon’s eyes narrowed. “They can’t figure out where he went but they’re trying to track him, unsuccessfully I might add.” Jon turned away from the window and Damian. “God we were so stupid! Conor trusted him!” He banged his fist against the wall, a small dent forming.

“Jon.” Damian’s voice was a tad sterner. “You need to calm down before you break something you can’t fix.” 

“What if he comes after my mom again Damian?” The boy turned around, tears in his eyes. “What if he comes after me or Conor or my dad? Kara? Grandma! He could come after any of us!” 

“We won’t let him hurt any of you!” Damian tried to assure. 

“What about Lena Luthor!?” 

Lena Luthor? Damian didn’t know a hefty amount about her, just what was outlined in her file. She was the younger sister of Lex Luthor Senior. Slightly less evil, known for having a conscience, and eventually turned against him. She was in JLA witness protection, had been for eighteen years now.

“What about Lena?” Damian asked. 

“They can’t find her Damian.” Jon let out an angry breath, resting his back against the window. “Mr. Queen went to Rome yesterday, that’s where she’s supposed to be. But he can’t find her. People are searching the whole continent of Europe. No one can find her.” 

“Okay,” Damian looked to the ground trying to think. “That’s not great but her brother may not know where she is either.”

“Be real Damian.” Jon looked up at him. “I may not be smart, but I’m not dumb. And you aren’t stupid enough to believe that Jr. isn’t cozying up to his aunt right now.” His fist clenched again, Damian could see it smashing into the glass, but thankfully Jon seemed to still have some semblance of control. 

“Damian the Luthors have enough kryptonite stock piled away to fuel two nuclear bombs.” The boy’s eyes suddenly looked so empty. “Lena Luthor was the only thing we had on him, along with Trisha. Now we don’t have either, and my family is his number one target.” 

“Yeah well, I hate to break this to you but Batman had double that amount of kryptonite.” It was meant as a joke, but as anyone who knew him knew, Damian was bad at those. “Luthor, Luthor isn’t going to be able to pull shit. I’m sure the whole League is working on this as we speak.” 

Damian walked in front of his friend, he wasn’t a hugger. Typically he wasn’t one for prolonged contact at all, save for a handful of very specific circumstances, like a warm cuddly sleeping boyfriend. But this was his friend, his perky, never not happy friend who, no matter what, was always there for him. 

It was easier than he was expecting to pull the half-kryptonian into a tight hug. “We will figure this out.” Damian whispered. “I swear Jon, I won’t let him hurt you or your family. If there’s one thing that scares the shit out of Luthors, it’s Waynes.” Jon was fully crying now, but Damian could swear he heard something along the lines of a small chuckle escape the boy’s mouth. 

“I just don’t know what to do Damian.” Jon’s arms were suddenly around him, tightly hugging him back. “M-my mom, she’s staying with Dinah while Mr. Queen is in Europe. Damian I’m scared.” 

“I know.” Damian wasn’t good at this, comforting wasn’t what he was good at. He was good at getting even, at defending people he cared about, at pissing people off and arguing his point. “Do you remember that ridiculous thing you always tell me?” 

“N-no.” He sniffled. 

“Good always triumphs over evil, right?” 

The Kansan let out a stronger laugh. “Right.” He was still crying, but he was still laughing too. “Good always wins.”

“Well we’re good. And they’re evil.” Damian hugged his friend a little tighter. “So that means that everything is going to be fine. Jon I promise.” Even as Damian said the words he couldn’t help the thought that crossed his mind. “Everything will be fine.” Famous last words. 

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5)  (part 3)  (part 4)  (part 5)  (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)  (part 9)  (part 10)  (part 11) (part 12) - Here  (part 13)

Photoshoot Part 4! Y'all I don't know what happened. I sat down to study for finals last night and instead turned on Hamilton and cranked this mess out. Anyway, Dash is finally here and I love him. But he’s also the worst, hence why he isn’t a prominent Character in this fic, but who knows, maybe he’ll show back up at some point. So a lot of what I was excited for at the end of part 11 actually isn't’ in this. It started getting really long so I had to chop it in half. Hopefully part 13 will come just as quickly as this part did. And hopefully I can actually get some studying done before my test tomorrow. I hope you all enjoyed this part as much as I did writing it! Please leave comments! I love reading everyone's thoughts on the chapters, they always make me smile. Like comments, I have discovered, can change my whole outlook on a day. And I could seriously use some positivity heading into my finals! As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got (even if it’s not about this AU)! And if you want to be tagged let me know! 

Also for future reference in this fic, the version of Lena Luthor that I am using for my writing is the character Tess Mercer from Smallville. 

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue​ @violatiger8​ @bamagirl513​ @vixen-uchiha​ @beaversuenightly​ @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff​ @todaylillypads​ @laurakinneylance​ @vgirl-10123​ @wellcrud-blog-blog​ @silvergold-swirl​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @an-ahez​ @queencommonsense​ @ladybug-182​ @meganemily231​ @driftingmoonlitpetals​ @kand-roo​ @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry​ @theatreandcomicfreak​ @paradoxal-occurance​ @miraculousl4dybug @thanks-captain-obvious​ @sassydepression​ @multishipper1needshalp @wegan97​ @surprisebishhhhhhhhh  @redscarlet95 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @synnesstra @fandomkitty8 @tired-yeetling @saluteswifties @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dast218 @naclychilli @royalchaoticfangirl @panda3506 @nataladriana9 @shreky-boi @my-name-is-michell @dawnwave16  @thethirdwheelfriend @quiet-oracle @heaven428 @dabub167 @kris-pines04 @severelyenchantedwonderland @urbanpineapplefarmer @goblinwhoships

[tvdiaries-imagines]

Quite The Assumption

Pairing: Klaus x Reader x Kol 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1620

The weather is absolutely perfect outside as you’re reading a book, sitting just outside a cafe here in Mystic Falls. You took a sip of your coffee before placing it back on the small table, allowing yourself to get lost in this novel.

A moment later, a shadow casts over you briefly and you notice a figure take a seat just ahead of you. You glanced up, learning that it’s Klaus and your stomach stirs with excitement but on the outside you remained calm and collected.

“Hello love.” He said, smirking.

“Hi Klaus. What’s up?”

“I just so happened to be in the area and noticed you here all alone. I also wanted to say that I enjoyed our little date the other night.”

“I did too.” You flashed a soft smile, placing a bookmark at the page you left off at before closing the book. You’ve only gone on two dates with Klaus so far and both were amazing. The hybrid has definitely grown on you.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Klaus asked.

“I’m not sure. I have to check my calendar in a sec.” You lied. You know that you have nothing planned tonight. “Why?”

“I am throwing a soirée at my mansion tonight. You are more than welcome to come.”

“Oh okay. What time does it start?”

“An invitation with details will arrive at your doorstep later.” He reached across the table for your hand, placing a gentle kiss over your knuckles before rising to his feet to disappear along the street.

You smiled from ear to ear at his gesture, unable to focus back to your book. There’s no doubt that you’ll join his party tonight.

(Later…)

It is a quarter past 8. You followed the details of the invitation and dressed semi-formal with a black body con off the shoulder dress that stops at your knees. You paired it with a pair of strappy black heels.

After one quick glance at your rear view mirror, assuring your makeup is still on point, you took your keys out of the ignition and hopped out of your car.

Stepping inside Klaus’s mansion, a waiter was quick to hand you a glass of champagne. The gesture alone instantly felt like deja vu from when you attended the Mikaelson ball not too long ago. You accepted the bubbly and went on your way to search for Klaus.  

Through the crowd of people, you still couldn’t find him but happened to bump into Kol. You were slightly relieved to finally see a familiar face.

“Hello darling.” Kol greeted. “Pleasure seeing you here. Let me guess, you’re looking for Nik?”

“You read my mind Kol. Do you know where he is?”

“I do not. But I can keep you company in the meantime.”

“Sure thanks.” You clinked your glass with Kol’s, followed by taking a generous sip. “What is this party for anyways?”

“My brother didn’t get into the specifics with me. However, I enjoy a good party.”

Glancing around at the guests, you randomly made eye contact with Rebekah, who is conversing with someone you don’t know. She winks at you and you raise your glass to her as a greeting.

“Klaus sure knows how to throw a great party.” You mentioned.  

“Silly me. I forgot to mention how stunning you look in that little black dress.” Kol commented. You fought the urge to blush from his compliment.

“Thank you.”

“And you bought it specifically for this party?”

“Actually no. It’s been sitting in my closet for awhile now. I’ve never found the proper occasion to wear it until now.”

“You should wear it again.”

You let out a chuckle, swallowing down the last bit of champagne. “You're funny. It’s not like I go to these kinds of parties often.”

“What I meant is, you should wear it on our next date.”

“Kol stop.” You nagged as you glanced around nervously, hoping Klaus isn’t in earshot.

“I’m serious, darling.” Kol said.

“You know that I’m kind of seeing your brother.” You rolled your eyes. A waiter came by, stealing your empty glass from you.  

“And I kind of don’t care.” He challenged.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shook your head in amusement before walking off to search for Klaus again.

Finally, you see Klaus at the top of the staircase with the back of his head facing the crowd below. You notice that he’s lost in a conversation with a red headed female and you didn’t want to be rude by catcalling his name, so you slowly made your way towards the stairs. You couldn’t get over how handsome he looked in a suit and tie since he’s always dressed in a Henley shirt and jeans.

As you reached the second step, you noticed Klaus and his female acquaintance exchanging laughs. Next thing you know, she playfully hits him in the chest and that same hand found its way on his chest. You didn’t think anything of it until you noticed that Klaus allowed her hand to linger there.

You annoyingly felt a pang of jealousy and turned on your heel back to the first floor. A part of you hoped Klaus would have at least called or texted you asking of your whereabouts since you haven’t spoken to him since earlier this afternoon in front of the cafe.

“So Y/N, how about that date?” Kol said, suddenly appearing at your side.

“How about a drink first.” You marched towards the nearest waiter and stole a filled glass from the tray, taking a large sip of champagne.

“You see, my brother isn’t right for you. Bad temper, enemies around the world, and not as handsome as me.”

You couldn’t tell if you’re already buzzed from the alcohol or if Kol is downright funny right now. “You’re hilarious.” You chuckled, leaning your back against the nearest wall.

“I forgot to add, not as funny as me either.” Kol stepped forward, placing him palm beside your ear on the wall as he towered over you.

“Okay okay.” You put a hand up in defense. “Enough with all of the comparisons. I get it, you’re conceited.”

“You’re pretty and you have a sharp tongue.” Kol leaned down, whispering into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re just my type.”

Before you had the chance to respond, you were rudely interrupted. “What the bloody hell is this?” Klaus asked with obvious distaste.

Kol grinned, pleased that he got a rise out of his older brother. He straightened his posture and snaked his arm around your waist.

“Oh hey Nik. I was just showing Y/N which Mikaelson is best suited for her.”

Instead of vamp speeding, Klaus took heavy steps towards his younger brother, holding him by the throat and slamming his back against the wall. He’s raging with so much fury that he didn’t care that all eyes are on him. “You just couldn’t help yourself, now could you, brother?! You’re so pathetic that you had to resort to compelling my date!” Klaus’s hand was so tight around Kol’s throat that he couldn’t breathe out a word.

“Klaus stop it!” You shouted.

“Niklaus.” Elijah announced, attempting to put his brother is check. His hand was placed inside his front pocket, standing beside you.

“Kol didn’t compel me!”

Klaus looked over his shoulder, eyes boring into yours. “What?” He let out in a loud whisper in disbelief, loosening his grip over Kol’s throat.

“Nik, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Rebekah asked, brows furrowed. Her heels tapped along the flooring as she made her way towards the scene.

You shot him a glare before storming off outside, not caring that you’re shoving into people along the way.

“Don’t point fingers at me, Nik.” Kol implied after catching his breath. “Go ask Y/N yourself why she’s cross with you and chose my company instead.”

Klaus followed after you without a response, ignoring the remarks that the party guests are exchanging with each other about what just happened.

The cool breeze hit him in the face. “Y/N, stop.”

“No I’m going home. It was stupid for me to come to this party.” You continued to walk towards your car with your keys in your hand. In the blink of an eye, you found Klaus in front of your driver’s door.

“Tell me, what did Kol say to you?”

“Why does it even matter?” You used all of your strength to shove him away so you can have access inside your car, but he’s got a thousand years on you and you couldn’t shift him. “Why don’t you go back inside and flirt with that red head some more.” You folded your arms across your chest, scowling at him in defeat.

“You can’t be serious, love.” He said with hint of amusement, which annoyed you even more because he is so goddamn handsome.  

“Leave me alone. And don’t call me love.” You spat, advancing around your car to the passenger side, hoping you can get to your drivers seat from there. But, Klaus beat you to it with his vamp speed. His fingers lightly grasped your upper arms, holding you in place with your back against your passenger side door.

“I was not flirting with anyone. I only fancy you.” You rolled your eyes at his response. “In case you’re wondering, she’s a witch. I was only playing nice to be on her good side.”

“Fine I believe you. But playing nice doesn’t mean it’s okay for her to have her hands all over you!” You shook off Klaus’s grip and made your way back to the mansion.

Klaus snickered, following behind you. “And I thought I was the one with the temper.”

[fluidityandgiggles]

Dalton Big Bang day 1 - The Canadian Girlfriend Experience

Writing Masterpost, AO3 Link

Notes: So... y’all. Dalton fam. Hear me out.

I understand that y'all are gonna be mad at me for staying up until (four? five?) five in the morning to post this, but I'm something like 90% sure I'd forget to post it in the morning (afternoon), and I have to write tomorrow's fic anyway, so... here's an extra early fluffy mess. Hope y'all like it.

I had to write this one... I really really had to. Han's girlfriend is a big deal to me. I hope you understand it.

(And for the uninitiated in pathfinder - the rank system is wild, feats are taken every two levels or so, Logan’s character is basically invincible, defeated only by Dwight’s monk and the absolute insanity that creating a monk in pathfinder can end up being.)

—————

"I really have to go to sleep," the familiar (by now) high-pitched voice said through the headphones, stifling a yawn. "My drama class is moving props to the auditorium tomorrow for our exam and my mom would be mad at me if I don’t go to sleep in the next thirty minutes."

"So go to sleep, Lils. I won’t be mad at you."

"Okay! I’ll text you in the morning! Love you, bye!"

"Good night."

Han finally let himself snort a bit after his girlfriend hung up, watching as she disconnects from the game a few moments later. He did say he’ll only play Starcraft today so long as Leah is available, and now that she’s offline…

He just closed the game and went back to working on his Pathfinder session prep.

Han met Leah at the San Diego Comic-Con last summer. On day one, she approached him because she thought the Westwoods’ Bat family cosplay was really cool. On day two, he approached her because her Arwen cosplay was flawless. By day three they’d already ditched the con to have a not-date lunch at In-N-Out, found out they’re in the same guild in World of Warcraft, Han found out Leah has a voice acting channel on youtube, they exchanged phone numbers, and by day four they may have not spent the whole day together but they certainly went on a date-date at the end of the day.

They’ve been rather inseparable for the following three weeks, but by then Han had to face the reality of it all. Leah’s phone number was weird to him from the start, sure, and he was willing to pass off her accent as a speech quirk, but it wasn’t until those three weeks ended that it finally sunk in that she’s not American. And like most good things, her visit too has to come to an end.

Maintaining a relationship online just… didn’t feel the same.

1 Unread Message

‘Merril: Can I suggest an idea for Mishka’s character arc?? You can say no, I just had an idea is all!’

Caterpillar: I’m all ears

———

"While this mess of a… bargain is happening," Logan called as Merril and Reed tried to catch their breaths from laughing. "Can Dwight and I get to the diplomatic debate?"

"Sure," Han sighed, watching his party quickly derail the session. "But let’s take a break first."

The first to disappear at the sound of "let’s take a break" was Lucy, who ran to the bathroom, accidentally knocking off Logan’s dice tower in the process. Merril got the brownies out and on the table, everyone pulled their phones out…

Han could take a couple moments to look at the pictures Leah sent him earlier. According to her, they were not yet done with lighting cues, and she was going crazy, but seeing her in her period piece of a costume and leg brace prop made him feel excited for her, somewhat.

Caterpillar: wish I could been there to see it 

Jabba the Hutt: Oh no! Don’t say that! Jabba the Hutt: I’ll send you the filmed version when I get it, but it’ll probably be really bad anyway.

Caterpillar: im sure it cant be that bad 

Jabba the Hutt: Han, it’s a high school production of the Glass Menagerie. Jabba the Hutt: My class is also doing the play version of Spring Awakening. Jabba the Hutt: It *can* and *will* be that bad. Jabba the Hutt: Trust me. 

"Han?" Merril called before he could answer that one. "Hansel, are you listening?"

"No, I wasn’t. What was it?" He grabbed a brownie, leaving his phone aside for a second.

"Wizards of the Coast announced a new edition of D&D," she said again, smiling gently. "Do you think you’d want to try it?"

"I’m already one step ahead of you there. I’m going to playtest it when it— excuse me…"

Jabba the Hutt: WE FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED THIS Jabba the Hutt: I’ve never been happier to say I’m getting offstage, I need someone to punch me!

Caterpillar: dont you mean pinch?

Jabba the Hutt: I meant what I said and I said what I meant.

Han tuned back in time to hear Logan say "I just really don’t want to have to mess with the power system again", which resulted in Dwight throwing a bag of chips at his head.

"Fourth edition has a very special place in my heart, Wright. Don’t talk shit about it around me."

"Yeah, why all the hate for the power system?" Lucy frowned (when did she get back from the bathroom?). "It’s not all that different to how feats work. Would you complain about getting a new feat every odd level once we switch systems?"

"Not going to happen, Lucy."

"Aw man, but I wanted to play Vampire the Masquerade next!"

"And we already said Merril is going to run it," Han reminded her, checking his phone one last time. "But we’re not switching our current game to another system. Not gonna happen."

There was a quiet "hell yeah" from Merril as Han’s phone buzzed with a new message, but before he could even read it, it was snatched by Lucy.

"Wha… who are you talking to, Han?" She laughed a bit, scrolling up, and then her eyes went wide open. "Well… damn."

"Don’t act like you’re surprised, that’s my girlfriend. You met her before."

The silence in the room was so tense, Han swore he could hear a pin drop. 

"...a girlfriend?" Dwight was the first to ask, raising a brow. "Since when?"

"You know, I honestly thought she would’ve forgotten all about you after two weeks…"

"Since a few months ago," Han told Dwight, taking his phone back. "Can we continue, please?"

"No! It’s interesting!" Merril joined in, resting her chin on her hand as she got closer, pushing some papers a bit. "How did you meet? Where is she from? Can we meet her?"

"We met at Comic-Con and no, you can’t meet her. She’s… not from here."

"...is she Canadian?" Logan raised a brow too, starting to laugh.

"Noooooooo…?"

"Oh yeah, Han’s Canadian girlfriend."

"She’s not— let’s start to fucking play, this session isn’t going to end itself."

By the end of the session, Han couldn’t say he’d be surprised if the whole school found out by tomorrow. And if anyone (namely the twins) made fun of him for his "Canadian girlfriend"... so be it. 

———

"Is this Canadian girlfriend of yours coming to prom?" Julian’s tired voice came through the phone, sounding like he was about to pass out. He just arrived at school earlier today, already tired from the flight, and immediately got coddled by Logan.

"She’s not Canadian, Julian. You’re the twenty-fifth person I’ve told this already."

"So where is she from? Would you please tell just one person?"

With a quick glance at the security footage, to make sure Logan wasn’t listening, Han whispered "her name is Leah, I met her at Comic-Con in San Diego last year, she’s from Israel and no, I doubt she can come to prom. She has her own prom to attend."

"...okay, so this Israeli girlfriend of yours. Got it."

"Thank you."

"Are you sure you want to keep her a secret…?" He clicked his tongue. His laugh sounded a bit rougher than usual. "You know how things can end up. You of all people."

"I… I’m just not sure I’m ready for… dude. Is Logan drooling on your shoulder…?"

"Give him a break, Westwood. He’s adjusting to his new pills."

"I asked about the drooling."

"He does that sometimes. I just let him be."

"...why is everyone so interested in my girlfriend? Is it really any different from David and Katherine?"

"I don’t know how to break it down to you, Westwood, but you’re not exactly the type anyone would expect to even have a girlfriend."

A shift in the camera footage made Han cuss silently, covering his microphone.

"...she said she’ll be here for graduation. Hers is in late June, but she finishes school in May."

"Yeah. May. When prom is."

"Do you want to talk to her yourself?" He could hear Julian snort. "I’m not kidding. I’ll give you Leah’s phone number and you’ll convince her yourself. I can’t."

"Because that totally won’t be crazy."

"Julian."

"Hansel."

"Just fucking ask her, you absolute nerd!"

"Can you stop ordering me around? This isn’t Hollywood. This is my girlfriend we’re talking about."

"Can you at least send me a picture of her? So I’ll know she’s real?"

"...fuck you, Larson."

Han sent him a picture anyway. A picture of the two of them that Lucy insisted to take while they were in San Diego. They coordinated somehow, Han with his LOTR shirt and Leah with her whole Arwen cosplay. It was the happiest day he could possibly remember.

And then, a snort through the phone.

"...so you’re Leah Appelbaum’s mysterious Maryland boyfriend? Huh. Didn’t know you lived in Maryland."

"...you know Leah?"

"We had auditions in the same building two years ago and she approached me because she’s a fan of Something Damaged. She insisted on keeping in touch. How did you meet her?"

"At Comic-Con… please be gentle about this, Julian."

"Okay! I just… wow. I know where you live now. Sweet."

"Don’t you dare try to blackmail me with that information, Larson."

"I won’t. There’s nothing to worry about."

———

"...you know what?" Han sighed as the last session before prom was about to close off. "Roll sense motive."

The clatter of dice hitting each other and everyone cussing filled the room, quickly picking up their dice and looking.

"Fifteen!"

"Seventeen!"

"Five!"

"How’s you get a five, Lucy?"

"I’m a barbarian, what do you think—"

"Thirty-four."

Dwight practically glared at Logan. "What the fuck, dude?"

"I play a half-elf cleric, Dwight," Logan answered, straight-faced. "Plus two to wisdom straight away, rolled extremely well, I have a plus five modifier to wisdom and the alertness feat. I took a single rank in sense motive every time we leveled up and now I have ten ranks. On the tenth rank in sense motive or perception, you get a bonus four to the skill instead of the usual two. Thus, ten plus four plus five equals nineteen, plus the fifteen that I rolled. That’s thirty-four. Do I sense motive?"

"...everyone who rolled above a fifteen, and that definitely includes Flint—" Han could see Logan smiling smugly. "Everyone who rolled above a fifteen can see that this woman is telling the truth. Anyone who rolled a twenty or above, Flint, can also sense that—"

There was a knock at the door. There was never a knock at the door. But now there was. And as Reed got up to open the door, Han silently hoped it wouldn’t be anyone who shouldn’t be there—

"And this is your boyfriend’s room," Julian’s voice came through as Reed’s jaw dropped. "Thank you for picking Julian Larson to be your tour guide, we hope you enjoyed the trip."

"Very! Oh, hello!" The girl at the door waved at Reed, who waved back. The whole party waved back. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, those nerds are just playing dungeons and dragons. You have nothing to worry about." Reed finally returned to his seat as Julian kissed the girl’s cheek, chuckling at the shock. "Logan, I’ll be expecting you to pick me up at six. I want my pre-prom sushi."

"I promised you I will, Princess, don’t panic."

"Okay, just making sure."

As Julian left, the girl went to sit on Han’s futon and look at everyone. Long brown hair, half of it bleached; dark eyes behind a pair of green plastic-framed glasses; a bit on the heavier side, like Han himself, and wearing a floral summer dress and a pair of short leggings. Her face was flushed red, her lipstick a dark blue, and her nails painted black that just started to chip.

Han missed her so much.

"So… hi." She waved around again, a bit confused. "What’s up…?"

"Who’s this?" Dwight was the first to speak.

"My girlfriend," Han replied, sounding rather insistent. "We were just about to finish our session, Lils. Can you wait?"

"Mmhm! Absolutely! I’ll be so quiet, you’ll forget I’m even here!"

Nobody forgot she was there. Merril kept looking over to her, Reed and Dwight seemed skeptical as ever, and the only person who was normal about it was Lucy. But it wasn’t news for Lucy, she’s met Leah before after all. All the while Leah sat there, chuckling at the game and waiting patiently for Han to finish, which he did twenty minutes later. Dwight practically ran out, followed by Logan who needed to pick his own boyfriend up for dinner, but…

"So where are you from in Canada?" Merril asked first, making Leah smile. 

"I’m… not Canadian. Did Han tell you I’m Canadian?"

"Where’s your lipstick from?" Reed asked next.

"Umm… it’s, it’s from NARS, I picked it up on the way here, I forgot to pack my own makeup and—"

"Is Han taking you to prom?"

Han choked on his water at that. "I can’t leave my room for prom, Merril. Health risks."

"You can have an indoors prom."

"We planned on watching Battlestar Galactica and ordering takeout," Leah admitted. "But… an indoors prom would be nice. I’m not going to mine anyway. My class is writing this… really offensive skit about one of the math teachers and I don’t want to be a part of it."

"What’s your prom even like…?" Reed squinted, sitting back down. "That you do skits."

"It’s… not really a prom. Israel doesn’t really have the promenade culture, it’s just like a showcase the whole class does for family and friends before graduation… I’ve never liked this practice, you know, I think it’s just…"

As Leah rambled on, Han took his time to clear the table and silently hope Merril and Reed leave soon. Those two have prom dates after all. And neither are a Canadian girlfriend.

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. 

Warnings: Humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, dub-con.

Words: 1800+

Beta: @ilikaicalie  

-

“No way!” You close your eyes. This has to be a nightmare.

“You’re the only person who made it to the hotel. We’re all snowed in until morning, no one can get a flight out. You’re going to have to staff him until I get there. His schedule is pretty light compared to what it usually looks like. Half his meetings were canceled because of the storm.” Pepper rattles into the phone. She’s only a year or two older than you but she’s your boss’s boss. She’s Sam’s executive assistant, in charge of the entire assistant staff and she’s had it out for you since you started four months ago.

“I don’t think I can do this.” You gulp, shrugging your jacket off. You deliver mail and push the coffee cart around the building, the lowest rung on the corporate ladder.

“You don’t have a choice.” She snips. “You think this is what I want? I’m going to end up paying for this, even though it’s not even remotely my fault. I can’t control the weather...look I’m going to send you his schedule.  Just make sure he’s on time. He’ll let you know if you’re doing something wrong, believe me. Just keep your mouth shut and do what he tells you to do. Whatever you do, don’t cry. He hates it when people cry.”

“Why would I cry?” You regret answering the phone and you already know the answer to your question.

Sam Winchester is a real son-of-a-bitch and everyone knows it.

To say his reputation proceeds him would be a gross understatement. He’s smart, successful, ruthless and above all, focused. You’ve worked for Winchester and Singer for six months and have yet to encounter him.

You’ve never even directly spoken to him, never seen him in person other than the monthly reviews he conducts with the entire company in attendance. Even then he’s just a man on a stage.

“I’m emailing you right now. Keep a copy of the schedule on you at all times.” She pauses to take a breath. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I’m listening. Have the schedule on hand, keep my mouth shut, and try not to burst into tears.”

“Just don’t fuck this up.” Pepper is as over-worked as everyone on the executive level. You can’t really blame her. This job is her life. “You need to check in with him tonight. Just knock on his door and ask if he needs anything. He’ll send you away, but he expects a check in just to be sure.”

“Okay.” You nod to yourself in a windowless hotel room. “I can do this.”

-

The elevator rises slowly to the penthouse floor of the Ambassador Hotel. It’s nearly midnight and his flight arrived only an hour ago. He was in Tokyo last week and was rerouted during the storms in Boston.

You knock twice on his door, waiting with bated breath and hoping he won’t answer. You’re about to leave when the deadbolt turns and the door opens to reveal Sam Winchester with a cell phone up to his ear. He pauses for a moment, looking you over head to toe before opening the door the rest of the way and walking away chattering to whoever is on the other line.

You stand in the hallway, unsure if the open door is an invitation. On cue he turns around, eyes narrowing as his nods his head.

Already off to a rough start.

Shutting the door behind you, you follow him into the living room, standing awkwardly, waiting for his call to end. When he finally hangs up, he presses his phone against his chest, staring at you like a zoo animal. “Pepper said you’re the only employee here?”

“Y-yes.” You choke out. “I was visiting family in New Mexico, so I flew in from-”

“We’ll have to make due I guess.” He cuts you off. “You have tomorrow’s schedule?”

“Ahuh.” You hold up your phone, forcing a smile.

“Ahuh?” He tilts his head. “I prefer actual words. Yes or no.”

Your cheeks flush hot, embarrassment settling in.

“Yes, Mr. Winchester.” You correct. “I have your schedule. Pepper asked me to check in and see if you need anything tonight.”

“No. I don’t need anything.” His stare is unrelenting. “Do you have something more appropriate to wear tomorrow?”

His question takes you off guard as you look down at the sweatshirt and jeans you’re currently wearing. “I, um, yes sir.”

There’s a nauseating combination of shame and anger settling into your gut. He really does live up to his reputation.

“Good. You better go. We have an early start tomorrow. I won’t need you until after the gym. I’ll be done by 6:15 and I expect you to be here.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod, looking at anything but his face. You’re an ant under a microscope, already feeling the heat.

“Good. You can go now.” He pulls out his phone, hits a number and begins speaking to someone in Japanese as you high tail it out of the room.

You don’t cry until you’re in the elevator. The doors shut as you fight back the urge to turn into a sobbing mess, instead of wiping away a few tears and composing yourself.

Three hours of sleep is all you manage. Between your nerves and being afraid you’ll sleep through the alarm, you’re up and showered at four and dressed by five.

Clutching a portfolio in your arms you step off the elevator. There’s a full-length mirror at the end of the hallway and you stop to make sure you’re presentable. You thought you’d be manning a promotional table during the conference, planned on wearing khakis and a pullover. You brought exactly one business professional outfit that you haven’t tried on in a year or two. It’s a plum-colored sleeveless sheath dress that’s tighter than you would prefer. It looks good but perhaps a little much for this trial by fire.

“This is as good as it gets.” You whisper, giving yourself a final look before finding Sam’s room.

You knock and he answers immediately, holding his glasses in hand.

“You’re late.” He quips, turning around to gather his suit jacket and briefcase.

“I,” You stop, checking your phone. “It’s 6:15.”

“In my world on time is late and early is expected.”

“I’m sorry.” You’re horrified. “I didn’t - I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to do better next time.” He eyes settle on your bare shoulders, then tick down to rest of your body. It’s a quick glance but you catch him. “I have files in the living room. Please make sure everything is in order and ready to go. Pack it all up, we don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You wordlessly scamper around the room, carefully collecting half used notepads and countless pages of legal discourse that you couldn’t understand if your life depended on it. When you turn back around, clutching his files in your arms, he’s leaning against the doorframe between the entryway way and the living area, watching you intently.

Your cheeks burn hot. Sam is handsome, there’s no arguing that fact, but he’s also notoriously difficult to work for. You’ve never once heard even a whisper that he mixes business with pleasure. If anything he’s known for being controlled. Everyone’s heard of his type, high-level business execs that are uptight beyond belief.

But the way he’s looking at you...no. It’s in your head.

“I’ve got everything.” You nod, shoving the files into your leather bag.

“Good, I want to get down there early.” He checks his watch and strides out of the room without another word and you’re left scrambling after him. Instead of heading to the public elevator you took earlier, he turns in the opposite direction to head toward the private lift his penthouse room offers as a perk. You stand beside him as the doors close and he pushes the button for the ground level.

He turns toward you, looking concerned. “I asked you to wear something business professional.”

“I-” The humiliation continues. “I am. This is all I brought with me.”

“I see.” His eyes narrow.

“Would you like me to go grab a sweater to wear over it?” You ask softly.

“No.” He purses his lips, head tilting ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t be able to tell how tight your dress is if I couldn't see your panty line.”

You nearly choke on your own spit. Letting out a nervous cough as your breath speeds up. You force yourself to look at him, trying your damnedest to determine what this is. Is he coming on to you? Just a perfectionist who’s so caught up in the details that the outline of your lace underwear crosses some sort of invisible line?

“I didn’t realize you could see. I’m sorry.” You stare at the floor, praying to God this day ends quickly.

“Don’t be sorry.” He commands tone calm and even. “Take them off.”

The world stops. All the oxygen evaporates out of the room.

Your eyes go wide, shooting up to meet him and his expression is unreadable. In a split second, your body reacts against your will, heat blooming between your legs, shame tightening in your chest.

You wonder if he’s like a predator able to smell fear. Does he somehow know what kind of effect this will have on you? Is it the way you called him sir, or how quickly you responded to his commands?

“You want me to…” You can’t finish the sentence but he doesn’t need you to.

“Take them off.” He repeats.

“Right now...here?” You whisper.

“Yes.” He confirms, reaching out to take the bag from you.

You hesitate, but only for a second before reaching under your dress and hooking both hands in your panties. The elevator is nearly at the first floor, and sweat breaks out over your entire body at the idea of being caught.

Stepping out of your panties you hold them up, looking at him like a deer in the headlights. There’s nowhere to put them, you didn’t bring a purse, the conference is in the hotel so you left it the room. But Sam casually plucks them from your hand and stuffs them into the pocket of his suit pants as the elevator reaches the lobby and the doors slide open with a ding.

“Try to keep up.” He hands you back his briefcase, your messenger bag of files, and steps out into the general population as you follow.

-

Tags:  @smallgirlbigpersonality @mereka18 @gryffindorable713 @trainlikeawinchester @winchesterprincessbride @bamby0304 

@kittenofdoomage @notyourtypicalrose @mariekoukie6661 @little-big-mac2 @emoryhemsworth @mystriee @atc74 @holyfuckloueh @bunnybaby121115 @mogaruke @darkmystress00 @jaspesangriento @kazuha159 @mirandaaustin93 @crispychrissy @schilj79 @wilde-abandon @hennessy0274-blog @bojabee @miss-samantha-winchester @impalaimagining-mainblog @andkatiethings @astephez @ladycynthia @mrswhozeewhatsis @lenawiinchester @feelmyroarrrr @mrs-meghan-winchester @har-rystyles @mistressofallthingsgeeky @theamuz @maui137 @stars-and-seas @vale0413 @impala67trenchcoat @curly-haired-disaster @ericaprice2008 @livelikeawinchester @althehufflepuff @itsthesamegametoday @bohowitch @spnwoman @just-a-normal-eccentric @gallifreyansass @StoneyGGirl @lonely-skys @81mysteriouslyme @missrandomista @soupornatural @stars-and-seas @natura1phenomenon @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @81mysteriouslyme @likhelbentin @mrooks0205 @zombiewerewolfqueen @winchesterprincessbride @squirrel-moose-winchester @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @closetspngirl @dominodoll @rainflowermoon @cleighwrites @camelotandastronauts @imarockstar45  @thebeastinside19 @courtney-padalecki @itsthesamegametoday @virtualgirlfriendsan @daisymoder72 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @mysticmcu @luciferseclipse @malinda1997

[my-proof-is-you]

The Cost of Protection - Ch. 11

Summary: Pain, bruises, and cover-up. You had come to accept that this was now your life. He was cruel, but you had to stay with him. It was the only choice. That is, until you meet the green-eyed stranger that refuses to let it go… You have protected others for a long time. Can you learn to be the one to be protected? Can you trust two strangers that say they won’t let anything bad happen?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con; abuse

**I do not own any images or gifs

Masterlist

You woke to the feeling of fingers on your forehead. You opened your eyes and saw Cas's stern blue ones looking back at you. He held a finger to his mouth to keep you quiet. You looked around and saw that you were back at the bunker and in your bed. Dean was sleeping beside you and Sam was in a chair next to the bed, his head slumped over and snoring.

Cas gestured for you to follow him and you climbed quietly out of the bed so as to not wake Dean. You followed him down the hall and to the library, where you both sat at the big wooden table.

"Y/N, what do you remember?" Cas asked as soon as you were both seated.

You thought for a moment, your memory still foggy. Everything seemed to be coming back to you in broken images.

"I--I remember we were on a hunt, trying to put some spirits to rest," you began, scrunching your eyes and slightly shaking your head. "We split up, and then--oh, God, then Jeff showed up…"

Cas watched you with his head slightly tilted, giving you time to remember. "He--he beat me. It was bad...the pain alone just—he didn't get away, did he?" You asked frantically.

"No. Jeff is dead," Cas said, his voice even.

"But how? I was sure that he was going to kill me."

"He almost did. You were very badly injured when I arrived to heal you. Sam and Dean found him in the basement with you, they got into a confrontation, and Dean shot Jeff. They called me and I healed you, then put you to sleep," Cas explained.

"So he's dead. It's over?" You asked, not daring to get your hopes up.

"It is. And your family is safe. Jeff had only decided to come after you, and I never saw him come near your family."

"Oh, Cas, I don't know what to say," you said, getting up from the table and running to him. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. Thank you for keeping my family safe."

Cas's cheeks turned pink and he gave you a stiff smile and cleared his throat. "It was my pleasure, Y/N. I wanted to tell you the status of your family. I also wanted to tell you that they miss you. They talk about you frequently. Now that they are no longer in danger, you may want to go visit them." He stood up from the table. "I have matters to attend to. Tell Sam and Dean they can call me if they need me."

With a rustle of wings, Cas was gone. You leaned back in your chair and tried to let everything Cas told you sink in. The thought of going to see your family both elated and frightened you. You knew they probably missed you, but could they forgive you for leaving?

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

You woke screaming and sweating. The nightmare had been terrible. It was like every horrific moment with Jeff was on repeat, and you had no way to stop it. You took a moment to catch your breath.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Dean said from beside you. Sam had apparently left at some point to go to his own room, but Dean was still there—Sam must have decided to let him sleep.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. It was just a dream."

"Okay, well, is there anything you need?" He asked, concern in his brow.

"No, I--I'll be fine. Thanks, Dean."

"I can go back to my bed or I can stay here with you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay when you woke up," he said.

"Yeah, Cas woke me up earlier and told me what happened. Thank you, Dean. Thank you for saving me." You looked in his eyes, trying to convey how thankful you really were. He nodded, and slid out of your bed.

"If you need anything, just holler, okay?"

"I will. Goodnight, Dean," you said as he left your room. The truth was that you really didn't want to be left alone, but you didn't want to be a burden, either. As soon as Dean shut the door and you were in the darkness, panic crept in as the memories returned. You laid back in bed, willing them to go away. You knew it was no use, though, and that you wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

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

Dean

When Dean woke up, he yawned and rubbed his hand over his tired eyes. He laid there for a moment, just thinking about the events from the day before. He had killed a man--another hunter. It wasn't his first human kill, but it still got to him every time. He didn't feel as bad since the guy was a bag of dicks...but it was still hard.

Then there was you. You were nearly beaten to death, but you were so strong. He hadn't gotten to talk to you much after Cas healed you, but he was almost disappointed that you didn't ask him to stay with you in your room the night before. He hadn't really wanted to be alone--not that he would ever admit that. And you had even woken up from a nightmare and just rolled over like it was nothing. Even though you seemed strong, Dean had a feeling it would catch up with you at some point.

Dean rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall to the shower room. He heard that a shower was running and was about to turn back when he heard singing coming from under the door. He cracked the door open, almost entranced by what he was hearing.

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose Fire away, fire away Ricochet, you take your aim Fire away, fire away

Dean couldn't believe the voice he was hearing come out of you. It was beautiful and graceful.

Shoot me down But I won't fall I am titanium

You hit the high notes effortlessly and beautifully. Dean leaned against the door frame, listening as you continued singing, almost unable to make himself move.

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

You

You were in the shower, trying to wash away the pain and sadness of your dreams the night before. While the steam and hot water helped to tamp down the panic a bit, it didn't get rid of it completely. You did the one thing you could think of to make you feel better: sing.

You were singing "Titanium" by David Guetta and Sia, which was ironic, because 'titanium' was anything but how you were feeling. Singing did something for you, though. It helped to clear your head.

You thought you heard the door to the bathroom open. You kept singing, but decided to peek outside the curtain when you reached the end of the chorus to see if anyone was there. When you did, you saw Dean leaning in the door frame. When you locked eyes, Dean's cheeks turned pink and he looked like a little kid who was caught doing something wrong.

You gave him a small smile and continued singing.

Cut me down But it's you who has further to fall Ghost town, haunted love You raise your voice Sticks and stones may break my bones I'm talking loud Not saying much

You pulled your head back into the shower and continued washing. You replayed Dean's look in your mind, a smirk on his face that said he was intrigued that you weren't embarrassed or upset that he had caught you singing.

You finished showering and dried off. You dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and headed to the kitchen where you found Sam drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

"Morning, Sammy," you said, getting some coffee for yourself.

"Y/N, how are you?" He asked, putting his paper down.

"I'm good, Sam. Honestly, I'm just glad this is over."

"But...is it over?" He asked, his eyes filled with concern.

"What do you mean?"

Sam heaved a sigh. "I just mean, domestic abuse isn't something you just 'get over.' It usually affects the victims for a long time. And that's not to say you're weak or anything, Y/N, I just...I just mean, it's okay to not be okay."

You felt your heart speed up a bit at what Sam was saying. The truth was, you really didn't feel okay. You were glad you'd finally get to see your family again, but when you closed your eyes, it felt as if you were still trapped, like you never got away from Jeff. You didn't want to worry the boys with your problems, though. They had enough to worry about, what with saving the world on an almost-weekly basis and all.

You plastered on a fake smile. "I'm fine, Sam, really. It was hard, but I'll be okay."

Sam's eyes said he didn't believe you, but the conversation was ended as Dean walked into the room. You lifted an eyebrow and gave him a smirk, humming "Titanium" as you passed by him on your way back to your room.

You heard Dean give a low chuckle just before you were out of earshot.

@riverdalesserpent

@vicmc624