#I LITERALLY GASPED EVEN IF I WAITING FOR IR

[mayraki]

how come something so BIG LIKE A FUCKING HUMONGOUS DRAGON CAN HIDE AND SURPRISE YOU OUT NOWHERE TWO TIMES LIKE???? IM PISSED

[spxnglr]

☎️ 𝙶𝙷𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙱𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂, 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃? || ❝ i’m used to death, but, um… but not, um… your death. ❞ || @daemondaes

❝ I wasn't used to it the first time, either. ❞

A VAGUE, POORLY-TIMED ATTEMPT AT HUMOUR. After all, what else was he supposed to say in response? What could be said? Cherry wasn't exactly wrong - she'd just witnessed him literally perish in her arms, his heart abruptly stopping after fatal injuries had been sustained, and he'd remained so for a matter of minutes, before waking up. There'd been no ambulance called, no emergency services dispatched to revive him - there'd been no point, given what had happened to him - and yet, he'd gasped for a breath, air filling his lungs and his heart beating once more as a result.

THE PAIR HAD DONE ENOUGH TALKING AT THE SCENE. While waiting for the rest of the team to arrive, unprecedented words had been exchanged between the pair, vulnerability being showcased in its rawest form amidst it all. It'd been a turning point - for him, at the very least; not even Ray, Peter and Winston had witnessed him in such a state before - though, there had been a sense that the moment had been unfinished, given his abrupt carting off to the hospital for treatment.

NOW, HE WAS HOME. The specialists had confirmed what everyone had already assumed - given his impact against the wall, and the height from which he'd fallen, he should have been dead. Numerous broken ribs accompanied severe internal bleeding and a punctured lung, and he'd spent the time in hospital to prove it. Still, he'd been an uncooperative patient, his days spent begging to be discharged so that recovery could continue at the Firehouse - and, eventually, his wish had been granted. Now, it was very much business as usual for him - as it transpired, his definition of recovery fitted far better into the realms of a slightly less hectic work schedule, for he wasn't in bed resting at all. Instead, he was at his desk, dressed in his usual suit attire, sat with orthopedic cushioning in his chair to support his posture, a walking stick within reach for when he did need to rise to his feet. While he wasn't actively taking on jobs with the team, his research and experiments were continuing - much to the ire of everyone else.

STILL, CHERRY'S VISIT WAS A WELCOME ONE. As he'd suspected, there existed a faint hint of discomfort in the air between them, something that eased once the pair began talking about what had happened - bar her frequent orders to return to bedrest; not even Cherry Martini could hold such authority over him.

❝ You'll be pleased to know that the data shows I'm healing at a faster rate than I should be. A positive result on the face of it - even if it does pose more questions about my current condition. ❞

[more-than-a-princess]

Sonia's eyes widened, now truly taken aback. A date? When had she suggested a date? She never asked her friends out on a romantic date, barring the instance when she'd finally mustered up the courage to tell Gundham of her feelings a year ago, likely even longer if she cared to dwell on it. She'd prepared a speech that had been entirely too long and ridiculous for her to recount now, culminating in asking him on a proper date. Even if that was something a princess never did: she waited to be asked politely, properly, by someone who caught her fancy and agreed only after she knew her parents' permission was secured for such a courtship.

Shinobu Yaguchi was someone she'd known for a fortnight, if that, and had, as recently as a few days prior, uncovered a common interest that they might enjoy together. As friends. Goodness, did she look so flighty that she'd instantly give her heart to anyone she held a conversation with? "A date?" She repeated, still barely able to believe such a suggestion herself. "Oh no, no! We are simply friends with a mutual interest in kaiju films! I was not attempting to ask her on a romantic date in the least, Hara-san!"

It didn't seem to be a suitable response in return, though Sonia was torn between fretting over a misunderstanding and remaining immersed in fascination during the ordeal. Anyone raising their voice to her, outside of her family of course, was practically unheard of: no one dared to earn the ire of the Princess of Novoselic, future queen to one of the world's last absolute monarchies. But Kaori Hara didn't seem to care: either she didn't recognize Sonia for what she was, or simply didn't think much of her to begin with. Either way, Sonia watched the exchange, engrossed in how it would unfold. She had apologized, in any case.

"Of course, it's certainly a ways off from now," She assured Shinobu with a wave of her hand. Best not to bring it up again, she thought, in present company: Kaori had a death-grip on her drink and spoke to and about Shinobu with a certain possessiveness, and honorific, that Sonia didn't quite understand. "In any case, I'm sorry for interrupting your movie date!"

A second apology, also seemingly unsuitable for Miss Kaori Hara. Just as Sonia tried to unravel what the other girl had meant, how Shinobu belonged to them and not Anzu, or Sonia, or Shinobu herself, Hope's Peak's Ultimate Princess found herself in a rather sticky state. Literally: the emotional stickiness had morphed into the physical as deep amber cola and a multitude of ice cubes cascaded down her pale blonde hair, her cheeks, the back of her neck, her shoulders and down her arms. At first, Sonia could only be distracted by the stinging in her eyes, something she haphazardly reached up to relieve with the back of her hand to no avail. That is, unless smudged eye makeup counted as a solution. Then, it was the realization that her white Miu Miu dress, with its black collar, short-sleeve cuffs, and front button placket, was stained and damaged beyond repair. Both of those, at least, were simple fixes that a trip back to campus and a credit card would solve. It then left Sonia with the only reasonable response, at least in her opinion.

"Goodness, could it be that you actually consider me to be a rival!?" She gasped. She would've stared in shock if her eyes weren't still irritated by the mix of cola and cosmetics, causing Sonia to squint a bit at Kaori. Maybe she was supposed to yell, or scream, or cry, or try to fit herself into the smallest possible space to render herself inconsequential to the events of that day. Sonia, instead, chose none of the above options.

Instead, she laughed. Without a trace of mockery in her tone, Sonia Nevermind was truly amused: if only she didn't have dirty hair, a stained outfit, and reddened eyes to worry about. "Oh my, this is just like something out of a Japanese drama! Or a romantic comedy anime! I thought such a scene would only exist there but this is a marvelous turn of events, to show just how much art imitates life!"

Unfortunately, Sonia was the only one involved who was amused by the entire situation. Kaori seemed to oscillate between triumph and deep regret over her actions, and Shinobu's demeanor had turned even colder than the ice cubes Sonia now shook out of the black-trimmed pockets of her dress. And Sonia's own amusement wouldn't even last long: out of the corner of her eye, as she'd been trained to spot them, her disguised security was beginning to make moves around the cinema lobby. Bystanders, in the presence of a teenage girl's tantrum at not only a foreigner, but a well-known one at that, had encouraged brandished mobile phones, recording the exchange. It would be online in seconds.

That was what gave Sonia pause. For all the time she relished in being regarded as a normal girl, the moment the media caught wind of it would be the stark reminder that she wasn't: that Miss Kaori Hara had dumped a soft drink on the Princess of Novoselic's head: at best, humiliating her. At worst, causing an international incident. At least her Japan team had been briefed in that Miss Shinobu Yaguchi was a friend: it was, perhaps, the only reason why both Shinobu and Kaori hadn't both been forcibly removed from Sonia's company the moment Kaori had begun to approach Sonia with the offending beverage. A look and an apparently innocuous hand gesture from Sonia indicated that they were to both find and delete as much footage as possible from the various mobile phones, and contact the Royal Family's PR Team immediately to brace them for the incoming storm.

"I-it's all right, it's all a bit exciting really!" Sonia quickly assured her. She'd barely registered Shinobu's blazer draped over her shoulders as she hastily scrutinized her plastic shopping bag. "What a relief!" She exhaled, "Nothing important seems to have been damaged!" Only after assessing the state of her limited edition merchandise did Sonia reach into the considerably more expensive bag, her purse, to retrieve a handkerchief and start dabbing at her face. She likely resembled the survivor of a disaster movie, instead of a cinema patron at this point. She needed to fix that.

Or did she?

It would, she thought, be all too easy to disappear into the car waiting outside. Her staff would provide more than adequate cover to allow Sonia to slip out the side door, into the leather-upholstered back seat, and be whisked back to Hope's Peak without another word. But Shinobu...she seemed to want to help, from the blazer over Sonia's shoulders to how she'd dismissed Kaori immediately to inquire after her wellbeing. Would there be much harm in that, and she'd be allowed time with a friend to boot?

"That's very kind, Yaguchi-san," Sonia smiled, though its warmth was diminished by the eyeshadow, liner, and mascara that smudged over her eyelids and cheeks. "I will accept your offer, thank you. I do apologize for ruining your date, though. I should've thought it through when discussing a shared hobby."

Miss Hara nodded like she wasn't really paying attention, muttering some "sure, whatever," underneath her breath as she clung tighter to Shinobu's arm. To Shinobu, it seemed like she wanted to depart for the theater as soon as possible, but it wouldn't be appropriate for Shinobu to step away without finishing the conversation she'd begun with Sonia. It looked like Sonia was preparing to leave, too, so they didn't imagine it would take too long to conclude the conversation and depart with some vague promise to see each other at school.

As Sonia spoke, however, Miss Hara's face scrunched up and a harsh glare emanated out from her eyes. "Excuse you," she said to Sonia in an unpleasant tone. "Back off. You can't just ask Shinobu-kun out on a date like that when we're already together." Her arms tightened again, in such a way that would have been crushing were Shinobu not quite so strong. "Shinobu-kun, let's go. Now." They believed she was trying to pull them both away, but between her care in not spilling her things, and her general lack of physical strength, Shinobu hadn't budged from Miss Hara's movements.

"Miss Hara," Shinobu cautioned in a flat tone, "please don't get the wrong impression. Miss Nevermind is only my classmate." Even as she looked to Miss Hara, she could tell that such an answer was not seen as sufficient. "Previews have hardly begun, and it would be rude of me to leave abruptly. It will only take a moment, and then we can depart." Miss Hara had already received her kiss, and had practically attached herself to Shinobu's arm. Why she was being so difficult even after that, they had no idea.

Although Miss Hara scowled and made clear her displeasure, Shinobu turned back to Sonia. "Mm. Perhaps. It's quite far off, if I remember correctly, but if the timing aligns, I'm not opposed to the idea." This was the second time Sonia had mentioned someone special. Shinobu wondered what she meant by that. A boyfriend or fiance back home? Probably something like that. Even more reason for Miss Hara to ease off. "Ask me again next year, when it's out if you prefer, and I'll be more able to give a concrete answer."

Miss Hara stared to Shinobu with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. "So that's how it is?" She seemed upset. "You think we're not going to last, Shinobu-kun? Not even a year? So you'll just make plans with other girls for when you're done with me?" Her hand squeezed around her drink, sending a few light splashes of dark amber cola across the theater carpet. Shinobu simply sighed. "Miss Hara, I've already informed you that my relationship with Miss Nevermind is not romantic in nature. She's a classmate, like Anzu. Now, that was all I needed to say, so we may now go to the theater."

Now, however, Miss Hara didn't seem so keen. "I don't like her either," she grumbled. "You spend too much time with other girls, Shinobu-kun. It's not fair." She looked up to Shinobu with an angry, pained expression. "It's not fair! Don't spend time with other girls, don't make plans with them, just be with me, okay!? You belong to me, to us, not her, not Anzu-san, not anyone else that doesn't understand." She spoke the words like she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. Shinobu frowned, deeply unamused by such possessive statements. "Miss Hara, you're making a scene. Let's go." Neither wanting attention, nor desiring for Sonia to get caught up in things, Shinobu broke from Miss Hara's grasp and took two steps away.

Miss Hara, it seemed, had other plans, popping the plastic top of her soda and quickly, angrily dumping it atop Sonia's head. Droplets splatted against the frames of Shinobu's glasses, prompting from the archer a sharp, angry scowl. Why must you demand so much more than you're given? I give you everything you ask for, and you're still so unsatisfied. Is the world not already awful enough, that you have to invent things to lose your head over? I hate people like you, Miss Hara. Stepping over to Sonia, Shinobu unbuttoned her blazer and swiftly pulled it off, draping it around Sonia's shoulders.

"I deeply regret my date's rude behavior, Miss Nevermind, are you-" "Hey!" Miss Hara had crossed her arms, looking to Shinobu with some shaky, shifting expression. To Shinobu, it seemed that she'd realized her error, but thought that perhaps sticking by it would prove more fruitful in the long run than apologizing. She was sorely mistaken. "Come on, Shinobu-kun. Let's go, you said. Let's go," she repeated, as though trying to convince the both of them that it would be fine simply to leave things as they were.

It would not be, but Shinobu would do Miss Hara the kindness she so desperately wanted by giving her near-full attention. "Miss Hara." Shinobu's voice was low and cold, even beyond their usual tone. "Miss Nevermind is my classmate, and a guest in our country. To mistreat her over petty jealousy is the height of impolite behavior, and I would expect someone who claims such unreserved ownership over me to know that I refuse to tolerate such unpleasantness."

"W-wait, no, I'm sorry," Miss Hara stuttered, although her apology was directed firmly to Shinobu, rather than Sonia. "I won't do it again, can we just go? Please?" She may as well have been pleading in front of a stone statue, Shinobu thought. "Miss Hara," came her voice again. "I believed you to be an altogether ordinary person, with ordinary hobbies and ordinary desires. Uninteresting. Unmemorable. Harmlessly banal. I see I misjudged you."

Although clearly hurt by Shinobu's words, Miss Hara stood still, practically transfixed by the emergence of the cold prince in full, icy glory. "Rather, you're an even more loathsome sort of person, aren't you?" Oh, how angry they were. Shinobu Yaguchi did not yell, or scream, or throw or break things. Hers was a frozen anger, bitter and oppressive in its weight. "The sort of weak-willed, unambitious person who lacks the conviction to fight for her desires in any meaningful capacity." After all, it had been Shinobu who had approached her, rather than the other way around.

"And yet, the kind of person who, even as something falls into her lap through no action of her own, can take little enjoyment from it. Rather, seeing in every interaction a threat and in every person a rival. Is your insecure and envious nature so overpowering that you can demand a kiss one moment, and then lash out at a bystander the next?" So pathetic. From behind her glasses, Shinobu's dark eyes narrowed contemptuously. "What reason would I have to spend further time with someone like that?"

Miss Hara was rooted to the spot, slowly coming to the realization, Shinobu believed, of how completely she had screwed up. "B-because I love you," she finally spat out, pleading still. "You do not." Shinobu's words were ice water over an already-dying flame. "We barely know each other, Miss Hara. Show more respect for your own emotions by naming them more appropriately." Firmly, she pressed the two tickets into Miss Hara's hand. "Enjoy the film, Miss Hara. I will not be accompanying you further, and I should hope that we don't meet again."

There was a brutal finality to Shinobu's words that made them impossible to argue with, and after a few moments of silence, Miss Hara's hand weakly closed around the tickets as she walked off in a daze. What a complete and utter fool. Finally, Shinobu could look to Sonia again. "As I was saying, Miss Nevermind, I regret Miss Hara's rudeness." That was a severe understatement, but while Shinobu was still quite angry, there was no reason to direct any of it in Sonia's direction. "Are you alright? If you'd like a change of clothes, my family's home is within walking distance, and I'd have no issue supplying you with something." Truly, it was the least she could do.

[the-iceni-bitch]

I’m the One to Blame

Pairing: Paul Diskant x DA fem!Reader, mentions of Andy Barber x DA fem!Reader (part 2 of Queen Bitch series)

Words: ~2.2k

Summary: Fucking you only made him hate you more.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, hate sex, rough sex, slight choking, cream pie, degradation, semi-public sex), cheating, everyone is an asshole except poor Andy, heavy misogyny, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: I’m just a bad person I guess? I’m just gonna give a blanket apology for my infidelity kink, this kinda got away from me and it’s just gonna get worse.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

As soon as you heard the not guilty verdict you should’ve known what was coming. The growls and rumbling coming from the crowd of cops seated behind you was your cue to get out of there, not wanting to wait around for the inevitable blame game where those dumbasses decided that the scumbag got off because you were a meddling bitch and not because none actually wanted to put in the work to make a case.

It had been almost two months of this shit. You hadn’t even wanted to press this case; the evidence was circumstantial and you were 75 percent sure Ludlow had intimidated at least two of the defense witnesses out of testifying. But then the assholes had gone over your head and your boss basically told you to try the case they gave you and not listening when you told him the jury wasn’t going to swallow it.

Of course they didn’t swallow it. And of course it was your fault. God forbid those lazy bastards do their fucking jobs. You could feel all their ire focusing on you as you started to move towards the door, your eyes meeting Diskant’s as he glared at you while Ludlow ranted at him. Sometimes you wondered if he was as big of a piece of shit as his partner, or if he was just a fucking idiot.

Paul felt his blood starting to boil as he watched you storm out of the courtroom, his jaw clenched so tight he was worried he might snap something. The way your gaze just slid over him like he was nothing made him even angrier, and the way your hips swayed in that tight little dress just served to remind him how goddamn frustrated he was. He couldn’t believe Andy actually let you go to court dressed like that.

He hated that every time he saw you all he could think about was that night at the Bell. He still couldn’t believe his fiancée had bought that the marks you left on him were from a struggle with a perp. Thoughts of how warm and wet you were around him had started bleeding into his mind at inopportune times, and the memory only made him angrier.

Ludlow was still ranting about you when Paul rose from the bench and followed after you, the last thing he heard being his partner talk about how he should give that cunt a piece of his mind. He spotted you heading towards the bathroom and strode after you, growling under his breath about how you kept fucking up his life.

You jumped a little when the bathroom door slammed open, rolling your eyes when you saw Diskant fuming at you through the mirror.

“You draw the short straw, Diskant?” You could see his teeth grinding and it made you smirk. “Go on, lay it on me.”

“You threw it, didn’t you?” He ran his hand over his face as he watched you bend over the sink, telling himself to keep his eyes off your ass as you washed your hands. “You got all pissy your boss made you do your job, and you tanked the case just to be a cunt?”

“Fuck you, Diskant.” You felt your hackles go up when he moved closer. “I do my fucking job. I’m sick of taking all the shit for when you assholes fuck up these cases, grow up.”

“I’m so sick of your fucking mouth.” He stepped forward and pressed his chest to your back, bracing his hands on either side of your body as he growled into your hair. “Every time you open it I just want to shove something in there to shut you the fuck up.”

“No, get off.” You gasped when when he ran a hand up your arm until he could curl it around your throat, tilting your head back so he could scrape his teeth over your jaw. “Paul, we’re not doing this again.”

“You telling me you don’t want it?” He snarled against your neck as he pushed you even closer to the sink, the marble edge cutting into your hips painfully while he other hand trailed down your hip to drag up your skirt.

You wanted it so bad it was making you sick. Every day you were filled with self loathing from the moment Andy kissed you awake until you sank into your bed in a tangle of limbs after he made soft, reverent love to you. But he never fucked you like Paul had the night of your stupid mistake, and when your core still ached as you laid awake against Andy’s chest while he slept deeply, all you could think about was Paul’s thick cock splitting you apart until you almost screamed. And you hated him for it.

“Nothing to say, princess?” Your lip curled at him in a low growl when he sneered at you through the mirror, hissing when he finally wrenched your skirt up around your waist and teased his fingers under the edge of your lace panties. “Tell you what, if you’re not already soaked like a fucking whore, I’ll stop.”

“Ow, bastard!” You tried to turn around and slap him when he literally ripped your panties off you, the breaking elastic snapping against your skin with a sting, but then he was dipping two fingers into your center and stroking your walls slowly so all you could do was whine.

“Knew it.” You heard the clink of his belt under his low chuckle, arching your back when you felt his freed cock slap against the curve of your ass and spreading your legs as slick leaked from around his fingers and coated the inside of your thighs. “Just love to play the stuck up bitch, but this pussy fucking weeps for me. Sick of your fucking teasing, you goddamn slut.”

“Shut up and just fuck me.” You braced your hand against the mirror and moaned when he finally slid inside you, screwing your eyes closed and swallowing thickly when he started slamming his hips into you.

“Fucking bitch.” He slapped your ass hard when you turned and snarled at him, groaning when you clenched tight around him in response and digging his fingers into your hip as he spread your cheeks apart to watch his shiny cock plunge into you.

He was rabid, barely any rhythm to his thrusts as he grunted with each push of his hips. The slap of his hips against your ass and the lewd, wet sloshes of your pussy sucking him back in filled the empty bathroom with your grunts and moans. One of his hands snaked up to yank the front of your dress open and pull out your tits, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you were mewling for him.

You slammed your palm against the mirror when he curled over you and started biting at your neck, not even able to care that he was leaving marks all over you since you were so lost in your pleasure. The hand that was digging into your hip slid between your legs and you had to bite your cheek to keep from screaming, rolling your ass to meet his vicious thrusts while he started circling your clit harshly with the tips of his fingers.

“That’s right, come all over my cock like the fucking whore you are.” His breath was hot on your neck as he kept fucking you like an animal, and you avoided looking in the mirror as if not seeing his face would mean this wasn’t happening. “God, you’re so fucking tight. He ever make you come like this?”

“Shut up.” Your body vibrated around him when he bent his knees and slammed his cock over your g-spot, your legs almost giving out as pleasure roared through your veins and you fought the urge to scream at him. The last thing you wanted was for him to bring up Andy right now.

“He doesn’t, does he? Because he doesn’t treat you like the filthy fucking bitch you are.” He pulled you upright so he could sneer at you in the mirror, your wild eyes meeting his and widening as you took in your completely wrecked state, your makeup smeared and bruises all over your neck while you arched your bare breast into his hand. “But I know, and if I have to fuck you like a dirty slut to get you to quit being a fucking cunt, I’m gonna do it.”

“God, fuck you, Diskant.” You reached back and dug your nails into his neck, grinning wickedly when he hissed at you raising sharp red welts in his skin. “So fucking worried about me, when you’re the one who’s trailing after me like a kicked dog. That sweet little fiancée not keeping you satisfied?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He shoved three fingers in your mouth when you laughed at him, groaning into your hair when he felt you flutter around him again.

Drool started leaking down your chin as Paul pressed your tongue down and slid his fingers towards the back of your mouth, making you gag. You could feel his rhythm starting to grow frantic, the force of his thrusts crashing your hips into the edge of the sink until you were sure you were going to have bruises. He gripped your knee with his free hand and pushed it up until it was resting against the cool marble of the sink, opening you up so he could hit you even deeper and forcing you to brace both hands against the mirror to maintain your balance.

A thin whine escaped around his fingers when he ground into you at the perfect angle, your toes curling in your pumps as you spasmed violently and your release gushed out around him and soaked his thighs. Paul’s hips finally stopped moving when he shot his thick cum inside you, shoving himself as deep as possible as his cock twitched in his release and he buried his face in your neck to muffle his roar.

He surprised you by grabbing your hair at the roots and turning your head so he could smash his lips against yours, tangling his tongue with yours until you couldn’t breathe then growling when you shoved him off you.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You hissed when he pulled your skirt down over your hips unceremoniously, turning to snarl at him as you shoved your tits back into your bra and started to do your dress back up. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Jesus Christ, fuck off.” He tucked himself back into his slacks and redid his fly as he watched you try to straighten yourself out, a massive undertaking with how fucked out you looked. “Next time I’m gonna fuck that bitch mouth so I don’t have to listen to that fucking voice.”

“There’s no next time.” You turned back around and grabbed some paper towels to clean the mess you two had made between your thighs. “There shouldn’t have been a this time, fuck.” You splashed some water on your face and wiped off your smeared makeup before grabbing a scarf and winding it around your neck to cover the marks he’d left on you. “I’m not doing this again.”

“You’re a fucking liar.” He wrapped his hand around your arm and pulled you into his chest, ignoring your growl as he scraped his teeth over the curve of your cheek. “You want this, you fucking need it. Otherwise you would’ve locked the door when you saw me coming.”

Your full armed slap caught him off guard, sending him staggering across the floor as you gave a satisfied sneer. He stared daggers at you when you strode past him to collect your purse, grumbling wordlessly as you prowled towards the door without sparing a glance for him.

“Wait five minutes before following me, bastard.”

“I’ll see you next time you fucking bitch.” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before leaning against the wall and waiting for some time to pass so he wouldn’t arouse suspicion. “Hope you have a good time at lunch with Barber while my cum’s leaking down your thighs.”

You glared at him over your shoulder before heading back out to the hall, trying to hold back tears when you saw Andy waiting for you outside of his courtroom. Somehow you managed to return the smile he was giving you, hating yourself when you let him press his lips to your forehead softly before he was guiding you out of the courthouse and asking where you wanted to go for lunch. You pointedly ignored Paul walking out of the bathroom, his icy stare following after you as he rubbed his hand over the scratches you’d left on his neck.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Shit, Ludlow must have waited for him. “You look like you got in a fight with a wildcat.”

“Nothing happened, I’m just sick of that fucking cunt.” He relaxed when the man just snorted in agreement, tuning out his ranting as he thought about what it would be like to fuck your throat until you couldn’t talk anymore.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch. 8

Ch.1      Ch.2      Ch.3      Ch.4      Ch.5      Ch.6      Ch.7

It has come to a point where you can’t even pretend to yourself that you don’t care for her.

All the time you spend with Cassandra every evening has made certain feelings impossible to deny, though you are too scared to name them all.

You don’t name the smile you can’t contain when she excitedly pulls you to the armory to show you her collection of blades –and explains, in a very animated fashion, about the optimal use for each one. You don’t want to know what the stutter in your heartbeat means, every time she genuinely laughs, pale neck thrown back, nose slightly scrunched and all. 

And it’s not just Cassandra you grow a tad closer to.  

Bela comes to you whenever the two of them have argued and goes ‘Tell my sister’ this or that. Daniela is apparently not allowed within a twenty meter radius of you, but she approaches to poke and prod at you whenever she wants to annoy Cassandra. She never manages to do either, because the middle sister always swoops in, fuming, dragging her away by the hood of her robes like a kitten.

Lady Dimitrescu is the only one as distant as the day you first saw her –and it’s probably for the better. You don’t see her much, anyway, not with how Cassandra takes you to empty castle wings to have you all to herself.

Tonight is different.

After dinner, Bela leaves with her mother and you go to help the other maids present clean the table. But your lover steps in the way and grabs your elbow, instead, hurriedly pulling you along.

“Do not tell me you’re seriously thinking to make me wait longer.” she says.

Of course, you promised to watch a movie you found on your phone with her and she’s been buzzing with impatience since.

That is, until a certain redhead blocks your way. 

“Daniela, move.” Cassandra huffs. 

“What are you doing? Take me with you.” the younger sister replies, brimming with childlike curiosity. 

“No. Go bother Bela.” A shooing motion is made. 

“Bela’s no fun. I wanna come with you and Alexia.” she drops your name so casually it’s startling.

“Wait give me a moment to think about it –moment over. No.” Cassandra states, fast.

But Daniela shoots forward and grabs your arm like a koala. Your eyes go wide at the same time as Cassandra’s, for different reasons.

The brunette immediately grips her sister’s robes, none-too-gently. “Don’t touch her, she’s mine!”

“If you don’t take me along I’m telling mother where you found that music player and phone!” Daniela answers, her hold enough to cut off your blood flow.

You send Cassandra a pleading look before they break your arms with how they’re tugging at you.

“On one condition.” the elder sister holds a finger up to her sibling’s face. “You sit next to me and you don’t move around.”

“…she’s warm, though.” Daniela says, all but pouting. “Mother says sharing is caring~”

“Find your own human.” Cassandra growls out as the three of you make your way to the main hall and the couch adjacent to the fireplace there.

“You and Bela have gotten the prettier ones!”

“You snooze, you lose.”

Cassandra quite literally pins you to the arm of the couch with her body, to keep Daniela as far away from you as possible. Even as the movie starts, you can feel her sulking by your neck for not being able to touch you the way she wants.

You are not as focused on the movie as you are cute way she plays with your hand throughout its duration.

-

-

It’s getting harder and harder to remind yourself of what they are.

Especially when, ten minutes after the credits have rolled, Daniela is still crying over the death of the protagonist. Even Bela comes to the hall and asks Cassandra what she did to her.

By the time she’s done dealing with her sisters, your lover comes to you sporting a headache.

“We’re leaving this wing right now.” Cassandra says and that is about all the warning you get.

The next second you feel a rush of air and your stomach leaping to where your heart is supposed to be; Your eyes only make out a blur and an augur of black flies.

When she comes to a halt you crash into Cassandra’s side with a gasp. Your arm aches from the pull. The world spins for ten solid seconds.

She laughs by your ear. Low and satisfied as it is at your disorientation –it reminds you of drinking wine by a fire in the heart of winter— you can’t help but bask in the timbre of her voice so close.

“Ugh, why is it so cold in here?” she complains in that same quiet tone you love.

It is very cold compared to the more lived in parts of the castle, but your body is warm enough from your sustained proximity and the rush of adrenaline she always causes in you.

“Oh, well, I can bear it for a little while if it means we won’t be interrupted.” Cassandra trails off and lifts your chin with a chilled finger.

Your lips meet and slide together in a practiced tango. Her manicured nails run over your throat and shoulders, making you shiver for reasons that have nothing to do with the temperature.

Both of you are starting to get really into it when Cassandra walks you back into the nearest wall. It happens to be a window, covered by a flimsy curtain. You have half a mind to realize it’s probably been forgotten slightly ajar, judging from the frost that graces your shoulder, but you have more important matters to focus on, like the brush of her tongue over your bottom lip.

Until Cassandra braces her bare hand over the unseen opening, to box you in like she usually does.

And-

She shrieks.

She jerks away so powerfully her back crash-lands into the painting on the far wall, knocking it down with its frame broken. You’re left there still and mute, watching in frozen horror as her face distorts into pure, raw anguish.

“Shut it!” Cassandra screams at you. “Shut it now, now!”

Your nerves suddenly kick into overdrive and you pull the window closed like your life depends on it.

What just… happened...?

In slow, cautious steps, you approach her. She’s clutching her hand like a wounded animal, baring its teeth to hide its vulnerability. It is the first time you see her like this. Void of control, bent over in hurt. Gasping.

Something in your chest breaks.

You look at her hand, to find her pale skin nearly crystallized, grey and breaking apart —like cheap china, like weak porcelain— into flies that drop to the floor, faintly twitching.

You thought… you thought they could just control the insects. That dissipating into swarms was just a trick allowed by their mutation. But now you realize, the flies are her body.

All this time trapped under the looming terror of the daughters… and escape was as easy as opening a window on them.

“Cassandra…?” you ask in a wavering voice when the initial burst of rage leaves her form.

She looks up at you, torn, when you hear the heavy sound of heels rapidly approaching.

“Cassandra?!” a different voice calls, this time, deep and authoritative. When Lady Dimitrescu rounds the corner in her immense height, your instincts scream to run.

But one look at Cassandra makes you stay.

Alcina halts for a moment to take in the scene. Then her lips curl downwards and bladed claws extend from her gloves, easily half your body in length. 

Oh my… God…

“What did you do to my daughter?!” she demands and advances on you, but Cassandra gets in front of you before she can truly threaten your life.

“I brought her here, mother. It’s my fault.” she hurries to explain.

Alcina stares at you like she wants to crush you underfoot… but then softens, somewhat, at the look her daughter is giving her.

“Come with me. Now.” She says in a stern motherly tone that leaves no room for objections.

You clutch Cassandra’s uninjured hand, silently asking if she’ll be alright. She turns, looks at you for a moment, then nudges your head with hers.

“...I’ll see you later, Alexia.”

But, as it turns out... “later” is subjective.

 -

-

 In Alcina’s Private Chambers…

It is not often that Cassandra is reprimanded by herself. 

She has never before been the only one at fault. She’s used to having her sisters beside her while Alcina scolds the three of them… except this time they’re outside the closed door and she is there to face their mother’s ire alone.

She can’t stay still under that yellowish-grey, narrowed gaze. Her fingers fidget with the edge of her robes’ sleeve to keep occupied, while Alcina takes that deep, calming breath she knows heralds no good things. Ever.

“Cassandra. Do you understand the severity of the situation?”

“Yes, mother.” She keeps her gaze downcast.

“Even if the maid didn’t harm you on purpose, she now knows your weakness. Yours and your sisters’. You were careless to allow this.” Cassandra feels anxiety rise up from the pit of her stomach and threaten to swallow her whole at that tone.

“I know, mother. Forgive me.” she replies quietly.

She wants to say that Alexia won’t use this knowledge against any of them, but she cannot bring herself to lie to Alcina. Because the truth is, Cassandra doesn’t know for a fact that she will not.

Why was that window open? Why?!

“You didn’t let me fix your mistake. I assume that means you will do it yourself?” her mother asks and Cassandra’s gaze snaps up.

What…?

At first, the temptation to chain Alexia up and watch as her blood drained from her lithe body had been sweet and strong. But now, at the thought of killing her –losing her— in whichever way, Cassandra is sick to her stomach. It is strange, because she feels like she is hyperventilating when she isn’t breathing at all and the world has tilted and—

Please don’t.

“Since when did you ever hesitate to kill, Cassandra?”

“…If.. that is what you ask of me…” she replies but she doesn’t sound like herself at all, not even to her own ears.

“How can I ask that of you and break your heart?” Alcina throws her arms up in exasperation. “I should have stopped this months ago but I thought it a fleeting fancy. I never imagined you would end up so attached.”

“I’m- I’m not-” she tries to protest, but her mother is having none of it.

“You’re not? You’re with her every day and she barely sports scratches anymore. Your eyes follow her everywhere when she’s in the same room. You instinctively lean closer whenever she comes over to refill your wine. Do you think I do not notice?” Of course. Of course she noticed.

Cassandra swallows, silent.

The memory of laying, too weak to move a single finger, on her deathbed along with Bela and Daniela pierces through Cassandra’s brain like a bullet. Her hand gives a violent spasm and flies break off to buzz frantically around her as she drops her forehead into her palm.

She’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown and it’s just so difficult without her sisters there. They’ve always been together, since the very beginning.

They were born together, learned to control their powers together, they died together-

Alcina is on one knee in front of her the next millisecond, stroking her hair and gathering her into her arms.

“Shh, calm down, my love.” she coos. “I’m sorry to be so harsh on you. I only want the best for you three.”

Cassandra doesn’t talk because she can’t, because she cannot wrap her head around what that flash inside her brain was.

“Oh, my Cassandra. I will not harm the maid if it will harm you, too.”

She waits for the eventual ‘but’.

“But I cannot let this dalliance continue any longer.”

It’s probably for the best. Her mother knows best. It is true, after all, that she has not been acting like herself, lately. So, yes, this decision is for her own good.

But.

Cassandra’s heart has the same reaction upon hearing it as being exposed to sub-zero winter air.

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,”  Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

[touyasdoll]

Y’all got Keigo on my brain for today so here ya go!

 

- Invisible Ribbitch

 

 

⋆!⋆NSFW⋆!⋆

 

“Keigo,” you spoke firmly, or attempting to be firm. This man made it so hard and he knew it.

“Babe,” your husband responded, tone mocking with a playful look in his eyes. He knew he made it hard for you to be angry, to stay angry and he loved that fact about your relationship; it let him see your smiles more, hear more of your laughter.

You scowled, cheeks puffing up as you turned away in annoyance, arms folded.

Keigo chuckled, sending a tiny feather to tickle at your nose, drawing a surprised, tiny sneeze from you. For being another bird, you definitely made many cat-like sounds. Kittenish sneezes, literally hissing the last time he tried to take a cinnamon roll out of your hand for a bite, mewling out his name as his hands roamed your body & positively yowling as he made you cum on his cock after having teased you from the very beginning.

Slipping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder, tilting just so to kiss your neck. “Now that was cute.”

“I-,” you began turning to glare at him. He felt like he was being threatened by a kitten, even. “-am still very mad at you.”

“Baaaaaabe~,”he whined, nuzzling further into your neck and making you squeak. “You have to admit it’s a legit question!”

“It is not! I don’t even have a cloaca! This kid isn’t coming out in an egg and I will not be brooding over the non-existent egg!”

He snickered, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, moving down to your shoulder & nipping at it.

“Dunno about that. Maybe I should check, just to be sure~”

“Kei-KeiGO!,” you squealed as his hand slipped quickly into your pants, your panties & fingers dipped to your pussy. They started to prod at you as he made considering noises, other hand moving up your shirt, to your breast, kneeding it. You moaned aloud, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but he was just too skilled with his fingers for you to have any other response.

“Hmm. Lips, labia… check. Clit…,” he pressed against the small nub between your legs, then began to rub in firm circles. You moaned louder and he grinned against your shoulder. “….check!”

He kept up the movement, around your clit, across it, feeling smug as you grew wetter & wetter. Your legs trembled and he moved his hand from your breast to back around your waist, holding you close. You mewled at the loss of a massage, but it quickly turned into a sharp gasp. Your breath came out as panting, soft to louder & louder as your husband upped his game. He was determined to make you cum before going lower & then making you cum again, and again, and again.

“Kei-Kei no,” you whined, you squirmed, not wanting to cum while clothed, not when his dick wasn’t buried in you at the same time, at least.

His movements slowed slightly. “Oh?”

“Inside, Kei,” you pleaded breathlessly, squirming at the change in pace but determined yourself to not cum unless it was on his cock. He could play with your clit all he wanted, you would readily agree to that, but he was also going to be filling you up.

“I dunno~,” your absolute jerk of a husband drew out the word. He was then pressing harder on your clit, lips close to your ear as he whispered his words with that stupid sensual flare he did so well. “I’m pretty comfortable just like this for now.”

Yet, you would not be deterred. Biting back a moan; you squeezed your legs together tightly around his hand & ground out a counter proposal through clenched teeth,”Let me cum with your cock,” at this you reached back, grabbing him from where he was pressed against your ass “,buried completely inside me or this will be the last kid you’re going to make in the same way, I swear to God, Keigo.”

At the extremely unusual growl in your voice, but also implied threat, he suddenly moved. In an explosion of feathers that pulled & tugged with rapid urgency, you were soon without your clothes & posed with your core hovering just above your husband, his hands on your waist to steady you & help whenever you were ready to sink down.

“Yes ma’am!” He grinned up at you cheekily, thumb rubbing soothing circles at where your legs met your hip. So, maybe he went a little too far in his teasing! He could fix that.

You let out a little huff of breath, the last bit of annoyance you held disappearing with it. Giving Keigo a thankful smile, you wiggled slightly to get to the perfect angle & groaned lewdly as you sunk down, only to rise up & again until he was fully sheathed.

“Fuckin’— damnit, babe!”, Keigo let out a groan of his own, head hitting the back of the mattress hard as he felt you all around him, as deep as could be. Why was he trying to wait on this again? When he could have your entire pussy surrounding his dick with your slick, velvety warmth holding him tight.

You wiggled a bit having mostly adjusted, taking your turn to tease him in your most innocent tone of voice,“Something the matter?”

He lifted his head & narrowed his eyes. “Give you an inch and you go brat on me,” he grumbled to your amusement.

“Pot, kettle, black.”

“Pot, ke— okay, if you wanna play it that way,”

You shivered at the change in tone. It was the only warning you had before he suddenly thrust up making you squeal. He didn’t go too hard, always worried about causing harm to you or the baby, but you would definitely be feeling this tomorrow.

His hands gripped your waist, keeping you from moving, from sinking down again as he fucked his way up into you, drawing sounds of mewls and heavy breathing from you as you acted like his personal toy.

“Remember, Baby, this is what you wanted.”

“Y-you mean y-you? I couldn’t for-forget you ever, Kei!”

He smacked your ass, just enough to sting, drawing a moan out of you. You both knew that wasn’t what he had meant, but you also both knew it wasn’t a lie either.

“You’re gonna get molded into the shape of me, nothing else will ever fit you well enough ever again!”

“Don’t want anything else!” you whined, feeling slightly offended at that. “Ju-just want you, Kei, just w-want you! Alwa-ways want you!”

“And you’re gonna always get me!” he promised, keeping it to himself that you wouldn’t always get him right when you wanted, but at many times when he decided.

“K-Kei! Cl-close!”

“Not yet.”

“Kei! Cl-close!”, you insisted in a near yowl, trying to wait until he said but whimpering as it became oh-so hard. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you clenched them shut in your efforts.

A smack across your ass came again, making you open your eyes wide in surprise, a frantic look in them as you met his calmer ones. “Keep ‘em on me. You can do that, Pretty Bird.”, his words had you nodding quickly. You could do that, you could keep your eyes open, you could keep your eyes on him.

It was only a few more thrusts before he gave the Now! that had you both cuming at the same time. You were breathing hard as you used every bit of strength you had to keep yourself from flopping forward onto his chest.

Your voice was quiet, as you got his attention, patting at his chest quick. “Wings,” and Keigo immediately had his feathers to the left come to cradle you & help you slip to the side against him, reforming beneath you & folding around you.

That was how you both found yourself staying for several long moments. Long enough for you to begin to drift off before he pecked your nose in a light kiss, succeeding in getting your attention.

“Mmr?”

“No cloaca…check!”

You drew back, glancing up to give him a look. Then you lightly smacked him on the chest to the sounds of his chuckles as he held you tighter. He waited until you were drifting off again before speaking in a quiet, sing-song manner;

“There’s still a chance of an egg, though.”

 

— END.

I'd slap his bird brain outta his skull if he insisted that I had a cloaca 😂

But the way that you've got me so thirsty for bird boy over this 😩😩 he's so cheeky & cute & sexy and it's just not fairrrr. Thank you for the meal, IR 💕

[morganaspendragonss]

if every breath is sacred

When Carlos wakes up, flames and smoke are filling the room, but TK is nowhere to be seen. He knows the protocols for being in a fire: sit tight, stay low to the ground, wait for help to arrive. But, it’s TK. Protocols have always gone straight out of the window when it comes to TK. So, Carlos—

Well, Carlos does probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his  life.

He grabs two t-shirts from a drawer, holds one over his mouth and nose, and plunges into the inferno.

ao3 | 2.1k | 2.12 spec

The air in their bedroom is sour with a rage Carlos knows isn’t directed at him, yet he can’t help but feel guilty for it anyway. TK is curled up on his side of the bed, back to Carlos, his arms wrapped tightly around himself and his breaths far too carefully even for him to be asleep.

Carlos wants to call him out on it, but he doesn’t want to make things worse than they already are.

He knows he’s not the one TK’s mad at - they’ve had that conversation already - and Carlos is angry too. Mainly at Owen for being so stupid, but also a little bit at his dad even though he knows he was just doing his job. It’s more that they put him in the impossible situation of having to explain to his boyfriend that his father was arrested than anything else; seeing TK’s face fall at the news felt like one of the worst moments of Carlos’s life.

They’ll have to talk about this eventually - tomorrow, hopefully - but, right now, it’s better to just let TK’s anger run its course. 

Which is why Carlos bites his tongue when TK suddenly throws the sheets back and climbs out of bed, leaving the room with only a muttered comment about getting a drink. He sighs, listening to TK’s heavier-than-usual footsteps, relieved when he hears the quiet click of the kettle as opposed to the coffee machine. At least now there’s a chance of TK coming back to bed and getting some sleep, albeit a small one.

Carlos throws his arm over his eyes as the sounds quiet. He’s exhausted and, much as he wants to stay up for TK, he can’t resist the pull of sleep. So he lets himself drift off, praying that things will be easier in the morning.

*

He wakes to the scent of smoke invading his nostrils, harsh coughs already ripping from his throat even as he blinks the remains of sleep away. Carlos frowns, his brain taking a second to register the dim orange glow under the bedroom door for what it is.

Fire.

His eyes widen and he turns to warn TK -

But, TK’s not there. 

The bathroom light isn’t on, either, which means… Which means, he never made it back to bed.

Which means he’s still downstairs.

Carlos jumps out of bed and races to the door, yanking it open, only to come to a sudden halt as flames jump up at him from the stairs. The smoke is thick, but he can see enough to tell that the ground floor has already been overwhelmed by the fire, and that it probably won’t be long until it makes its way up here. His heart is threatening to pound out of his chest with fear and worry, but he forces himself to concentrate, to slip into first responder mode; panicking won’t help TK, nor will it get them out of this mess.

Returning into the bedroom, he snatches his phone from the bedside table and dials, sliding to the floor as more and more smoke invades the room.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My house, it’s on fire. My boyfriend and I are trapped inside, but I don’t know where he is. He went downstairs to get a drink and I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, there was fire everywhere and he still wasn’t back.”

“Could you give me your address, sir?”

Carlos rattles off his details, suppressing the tickle in his throat for as long as he can before he’s overwhelmed by coughing again. He can hear the dispatcher on the other end saying something, but he can’t make out what.

When the coughs die out, he takes heaving breaths of air, already in short supply. The dispatcher is still talking, so Carlos focuses.

“-ir? Sir, are you there?”

“I’m here,” he gasps eventually, closing his eyes.

“Good, help is on the way. For the time being, is there anywhere you can go to escape from the smoke?”

Carlos shakes his head, before remembering that the action is redundant. “No. There’s nowhere.”

“Alright, just hang tight. Fire and medical should be with you in around six minutes.”

Six minutes.

Too long.

Carlos glances back to the door, his mind going to TK and how long he must have been in the flames and smoke for. A chill goes through him as he realises he doesn’t even know, and he just... He needs to make sure he’s okay.

He may be a cop, and not a firefighter, but Carlos knows the protocols for being in a fire. Sit tight, stay low to the ground, wait for help to arrive. But, it’s TK. Protocols have always gone straight out of the window when it comes to TK. So, Carlos—

Well, Carlos does probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his entire life.

He grabs two t-shirts from a drawer, holds one over his mouth and nose, and plunges into the inferno.

*

Flames lick at his exposed skin and thick, black smoke clogs his lungs, the thin cloth of the t-shirt doing next to nothing to halt its path. His eyes are burning, vision obscured with how much they’re watering, but Carlos pushes on, squinting through the haze to search for any sign of his boyfriend.

Navigating his house is difficult, everything seeming alien in this strange half-light, but he manages, and eventually he stumbles - almost literally - over a crumpled figure against the far wall.

“TK!” he cries, or tries to. It comes out hoarse, and quieter than he intended, so Carlos clears his throat and tries again and again and again until he drops down on his knees next to TK. 

“TK,” he says again, shaking his shoulder. TK’s eyes are closed, but they flutter when Carlos shakes him harder. “Come on, baby, open your eyes.”

TK must listen to him, because, slowly, his eyes blink open, widening as he takes in the scene around them. Carlos presses the second t-shirt into his hands and he nods in understanding, raising it to his mouth.

“Help is coming,” Carlos says, mouth close to TK’s ear. “Just a couple more minutes.”

TK nods again and lowers the shirt. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t get a sound out before a round of coughing comes over him, causing him to fold in on himself. It’s loud enough that TK misses the cracking sound coming from right above his head, the thin trickle of dust raining down on them.

TK misses it, but Carlos doesn’t.

His boyfriend’s name tears out of him, and he just has time to shove TK as hard as he can before the ceiling comes crashing down.

Carlos chokes, suddenly finding it even harder to breathe, as if it wasn’t near impossible before. He’s pinned, the only movement he has left in his right hand. If he strains, he can just about see TK, who’s staring at him with a horrified expression. Carlos attempts a smile, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work.

His lungs spasm as he tries and fails to take a breath, his entire body burning with the weight crushing him. His vision is dimming, and he knows it’s likely only seconds before he loses consciousness—and, judging by TK’s slow blinks, the same is true for him.

Carlos prays that whichever station was dispatched gets to them soon, but if this is the end - and he really, really wants it not to be - then he can only think to be grateful that they’re in it together. Carefully, he inches his hand forward, stretching his fingers out until they meet TK’s, and he grips on with all the strength he has left in his body.

“I love you,” he chokes out. He doesn’t know if TK hears him, but he knows that he understands by the way his fingers close around Carlos’s.

TK’s lips move, the roaring flames and the pounding of his own heart making it impossible for Carlos to hear him; still, he knows. It’s a comfort, and he gives TK’s hand one last squeeze before all the energy leaves him and his eyes drift shut.

A flash of blue lights up the room behind Carlos’s closed eyelids, but he doesn’t get a chance to figure out what it means before the darkness swallows him whole.

*

TK doesn’t know how he got here. 

He comes back to awareness slowly, a sudden panic constricting his already tight chest as he stares up at the night sky, his mind trying desperately to work out what’s going on. The last thing he remembers, he was in their front room, surrounded by fire, and Carlos—

Carlos.

TK gasps, his lungs on fire, his back arching and his fingers clawing at what he now realises is a gurney - whether he’s fighting for air or to get to Carlos, he doesn’t know.

Either way, he’s quickly pushed back down and an oxygen mask is pressed against his face.

“TK, I need you to calm down,” a familiar voice - Tommy’s - says. 

“Carlos -”

“He’s in good hands, I promise you,” she cuts in, an evasion tactic if TK’s ever heard one. “You’re my priority right now; just focus on breathing for me, alright?”

TK wants to fight, but he still doesn’t have any strength in him, and he’s powerless to do anything as he’s lifted into the ambulance and taken away.

*

He hates hospitals. After the kidnapping, after Grace and Judd, TK had hopes not to have to enter one again for a while. 

He should have known that was just wishful thinking.

This is the worst one, he thinks. He’s not allowed to leave his bed for another day at least, the burns he’d suffered are superficial, but he’d inhaled a lot of smoke and the doctors want to make sure his O2 levels are stable before letting him go.

That would be unbearable enough, but it’s made worse by the fact that he can’t see Carlos. All he’s been told is that Carlos’s injuries were far worse than his own and that he’s been put on a ventilator because his body is too damaged. A horrible guilt wells in TK’s gut at that knowledge - it’s his fault Carlos isn’t awake right now. He knows Carlos saved him when the ceiling came down, and he wishes he hadn’t; he really didn’t need to know what being on the other side of a coma is like.

A quiet knock on the doorframe reaches his ears and he looks up, expecting it to be his dad or one of the team. Instead, he’s surprised to see Carlos’s mom standing there, her eyes red, and a terrifying coldness floods his body.

“Mrs Reyes,” he says, voice trembling. “Is everything okay? Carlos, is he -”

“He’s okay,” she replies, giving him a wobbly smile as she walks towards him. “Or, there’s been no change, which the doctors tell us is a good thing. Gabriel is with him, but I wanted to come and check up on you.”

TK swallows guiltily, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness in his throat. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Ah. I see Carlitos didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I raised four children, TK,” she says, a hint of a real smile on her lips. “I know when someone is lying to me.”

TK flushes and looks down at the bedsheets, picking at them idly. “You’re right. I’m not okay, but I don’t think I will be until he wakes up.”

“You care for him a lot.”

“With all my heart.”

She nods and pats his hand, the simple, yet comforting, touch breaking something in TK. His eyes fill with tears and he lets his head fall back on the pillow as his chest heaves with sobbing. It irritates his throat, but he doesn’t care, not when there’s a greater pain that reaches right down to his very soul. 

Mrs Reyes holds him against her without hesitation, not complaining even though his cries must be making a mess of her shirt.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, stroking his hair in a way that makes TK yearn for a mother he never really had. “Everything will be okay. My Carlitos is a fighter, and I know that he is doing everything he can right now to get back to us. To you.”

TK sniffles, and hangs onto her words with everything he has.

Four days later, Carlos’s eyes open and, for the first time since the fire, TK think he can finally breathe again.

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 6)

lPart 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, (here) Part 7,  Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

TW for hypothermia, illness, talk of self-isolating behavior, mention of Yennefer’s self harm scars.

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The trek to Kaer Morhen was a penance, and that was just getting from the city to the base of the path that the witchers called ‘The Killer’. Autumn was truly giving way to winter now and fine flurries came down with more ferocity than was warranted from a few snowflakes. 

They were all on foot, Roach pulling the cart with their supplies. As they advanced up the trail Ciri and probably Jaskier would sit in the cart. The path was called killer for a reason, it could kill witchers. For now, though, they let Roach rest as much as she could. It would be a tough climb for her as well, and whenever they stopped Geralt gave her extra brushing down and treats. 

Geralt...hm. Well, since Jaskier had snapped at him back in the city their relationship, already tense as a bowstring, had gotten worse. They didn’t snap at each other, but tiptoed instead, walking on eggshells. Jaskier was waiting, had half expected Geralt to cast him aside again, or to gripe about Jaskier’s uselessness. Instead the witcher walked around like he’d been kicked. 

He was always looking at Jaskier though, glancing at him with that piercing, penetrating gaze. He was examining the bard for something, but for what, Jaskier didn’t know. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let Geralt have the satisfaction of seeing it. He kept walking, head up, eyes straight ahead. He didn’t complain. He barely spoke. Making himself as unlikely a target for Geralt’s ire as possible. 

That was the odd thing though. Geralt didn’t seem to have much ire, per say. It was almost an overbearing sort of concern. Jaskier tried to make it fit in his head, there was something there, Geralt’s anger at Jaskier for sleeping with the innkeeper, the care with which he’d carried Jaskier into town, this awkward caution. It meant something. In his heart Jaskier knew what he hoped it meant. He couldn’t trust his heart with this though, he needed to use his head. There was a disconnect between Geralt’s words and his actions. Between the mountain and now. He needed to use his head.

His head was aching.

Jaskier really barely could think, much less work out the complexities of Geralt’s character. His chest ached. That little, half-ache had taken root in his lungs and bloomed into a great, heaving flower. He was coughing now, which he was trying to hide, he knew, without much success. The cough had started dry and grating, but had progressed to a hacking wetness. It would have been bad enough, but it was upsetting Ciri. Jaskier wouldn’t go within six feet of her, for fear of making her sick too. Her big, grass green eyes watched him almost as consistently as Geralt did, and she was picking up the little crease between her brow as well. Sometimes, when a particularly vicious cough made him double over her lip trembled, and that was a special sort of torture. Yennefer kept giving him tea, too, which was a weirdly kind, somewhat pitying gesture.

“I’m not good at healing,” she grouched at him from across their campfire the first evening on The Killer.

Jaskier shrugged. “’s fine,” he said, taking another hesitant sip of the tea. It was herbal, not in the way that mint was herbal, but the way that a handful of leaves and moss tasted herbal. 

“Mh,” Yennefer said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “It’s one of those things you have to specialize in, magical healing. Magic heals magic injuries best, anyway.”

“I’m okay,” Jaskier said, fully aware that he wasn’t, but glad that Ciri and Geralt had gone to fetch more wood so he wouldn’t have the big witcher sniffing out his lie.

“You need a healer.” Yennefer skewered him with her gaze, purple meeting blue like a lightning storm. “You’re sick.”

“I don’t see why it should bother you.”

Yennefer sighed and stood up, grabbing the kettle from the fire. She poured herself a mug of the tea and sat down with it next to Jaskier. After a brief examination she drank it, then winced. “Eugh. It bothers me because we’re friends.”

“We are not.”

“Eh, well, Geralt screwed me over, he screwed you over, the enemy of my enemy...”

“Geralt isn’t my enemy--”

“Could’ve fooled me with that shouting match back in town.”

“Anyway he screwed you over more...literally.”

Yennefer looked at him, a little smirk on her lips. “Is that what this is about? That I slept with Geralt?” She looked at Jaskier, squinting at him as he studiously examined his tea. “No, that isn’t it,” she decided. “You aren’t upset he slept with me, you’re upset he never slept with you.”

“I’m upset that he decided he loves you!” Jaskier shouted, unable to take the prodding. He regretted it as it kickstarted a coughing fit that made him double over. He spat out some phlem and straightened up in time to see Yennefer’s grimace. 

“He decided he loves you,” Jaskier said, panting a little. “After only just meeting you. He decided he couldn’t live without you in his life, so he bound you with that djinn to keep you safe. And that sucks for you, it does, and he shouldn’t have done it. Melitele knows the man never thinks things through, it’s just...”

Jaskier looked into the fire and Yennefer waited.

“He barely knew you and he couldn’t bear to be without you. I spent two decades at his side and he’s never called me a friend.” He scoffed ruefully. “Called me a shit shoveler though.”

Yennefer nodded. “I heard.”

“You did?”

“I hadn’t gone that far when, well...you’re a pain in the ass, bard, but you didn’t deserve that. Men like Geralt...” she twisted the mug in her hands, turning it round and round and Jaskier saw flashes of scarred skin at her wrists. “People like Geralt and I,” she continued. “We pull at our safety ropes until they come undone. It’s just how we are. We were hurt so much, so long, that when we hurt we reach out and undo any ties that could help us.”

Jaskier was at a loss, so he bumped his shoulder against Yennefer’s. “You’re so much more fashionable about it though.”

Yen smirked and returned the shoulder bump. “Definitely. Geralt though, he cut all his safety ropes that day.” She didn’t have to specify which day. “I cut mine first though. I didn’t want him romantically, not really. It’s djinn magic, he’s not my lover, and I can’t fix him and I don’t want him to fix me.”

“Fix him?”

“I think people like Geralt and I can heal, but we can’t heal eachother. Ciri helps. I’m a mom to her, you know? She called me Mama the other day when she was really sleepy and it felt...” Yennefer trailed off, then she looked over at Jaskier. 

“I don’t love him, not like you do, and he doesn’t love me. But I’m not good with these things, and I can’t help you two fix what he broke that day. More than that, I won’t. It’s not my job to fix you two, or to deal with your problems for you, and if you two can’t communicate on your own then maybe you shouldn’t at all.”

“I communicated,” Jaskier said. “Twenty years. I thought those were the best years of my life, and I gave them to him, and did all the communicating. I’m not doing anymore. If I’m not...” Jaskier was ashamed to find a lump in his throat. “If I’m not a curse and a burden to him then he has to tell me, has to say it, because I can’t keep going if his words are just going to contradict his actions.”

“Good,” Yennefer said, standing and pouring her tea out onto the ground. “Don’t. Make him communicate. It’s up to him. And to make it be up to him, that’s up to you. He has words. If he can use them to hurt you then he can use them to heal. Don’t give in.”

It seemed that portion of the conversation was over because Yen began setting up her magic tent. “You’ll sleep in here tonight. The cold isn’t doing you any good.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Can’t. I could make Ciri sick.” 

Yennefer sighed again. “You’re right, of course, but you’ll sleep in Geralt’s tent. He can’t get sick and he’s a walking heater.”

Jaskier was about to protest when his lungs heaved again and he began coughing. The force was so great he swore he felt his ribs creak. Despite all the mucus his throat felt torn and raw. He dragged air back into his lungs then spat. Blood came out.

Of course, that was the moment Ciri and Geralt returned from getting firewood.

Ciri gasped, eyes wide, and Geralt dropped the armful of logs he was holding. They scattered but the witcher paid them no heed as he advanced towards Jaskier, stepping over the rolling wood. Geralt gripped Jaskier’s face and tilted his head back, holding his mouth open. 

Jaskier wondered what he could see with his witcher-enhanced eyes.

“Throat’s raw,” Geralt grunted after an awkward moment of peering into Jaskier’s mouth. “Probably nothing internal.”

Geralt wiped the blood from the corner of the bard’s mouth with his rough leather glove, then he peeled off his glove and pressed a hand to Jaskier’s forehead. Jaskier just leaned in to the warmth of Geralt’s palm, but it was obviously chilled, the temperature of a normal human, not the furnace heat Geralt normally held. 

Geralt frowned and stepped closer, taking his hand away and pressing his cheek to Jaskier’s forehead instead. It was a gesture that Jaskier’s nursemaid had sometimes done, an easier way to check for fever if one’s hands were too cold to tell. He wished he could linger there, in the warmth of Geralt, so close, with his cloak still smelling of the pine forest all around them and the copper-sharp scent of snow as well. 

“Fever,” Geralt grunted.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, eyes filling.

Jaskier pulled away and bowed theatrically, ignoring his aching joints’ many protests. “Never fear little princess,” he said. “’twould take more than a fever to best the bard Jaskier.”

Ciri didn’t giggle, but at least she didn’t begin to cry. 

That night Jaskier and Geralt tucked in together, sharing not just a tent but a bedroll. Geralt had turned onto his side and pulled Jaskier in so that his face pressed to Geralt’s collarbone and he was surrounded by the witcher. It was as if Geralt was shielding him with his body, protecting him from an enemy, but that enemy was inside Jaskier already, and he could feel the fever burning through him, even as he relished the warmth.

His mind drifted to other times. Days and nights when coin had been tight and they’d shared beds, shared meals. They’d shared lives for so long, orbiting around eachother. Geralt like some bright planet and Jaskier his moon. He ached for it to be like that again, but he couldn’t do it alone, Geralt had to be part of it too, had to want that life to exist, not just allow it to happen. 

The next day dawned white. Snow had fallen and continued to do so, the little flurries of before now a full snowstorm that whipped and raged. Geralt loaded a pack full of supplies onto his back to lighten Roach’s load, then they set off. 

Ciri and Jaskier walked as long as they could, but the wind beat them back. Yennefer was struggling too, pushing magic in front of her so that the snow buffeted off of it, streaming around her and making the walking easier, but Jaskier could tell it drained her, and her shield flickered sometimes. 

Ciri stumbled once, around mid morning, and Geralt picked her up by the back of her cloak, scruffing her like a kitten. He patted some snow off of her and placed her int the cart with the supplies. Jaskier was going to go at least a couple hundred more feet, but Geralt scruffed him too, bundling him into the cart alongside Ciri. Jaskier prayed he wouldn’t get Ciri sick, but with the wind howling around him he imagined that whatever ill humors he could exhale would get swept away. He curled up opposite the princess, the pair of them ducking down miserably as the snow blew over the sides of the cart. He heard Geralt speaking to Yen. 

“We can make it by nightfall, if we push. Can you make it?” His voice was pitched above the wind, but still barely reached Jaskier.

“I can make it,” Yen said. “I’ll have to, they need warmth, and Jaskier needs medicine.”

“Vesemir knows herbs and potions, he can heal him.”

“Then we’d better get a move on,” Yennefer said. Her voice was strained, but they forged on anyway. 

Jaskier took occasional peeks over the sides of the cart. It was a winding path, a goat track, really, but the northern mountains were said to be beautiful and he imagined it must be very scenic. As it was, the wind and snow obscured most of his vision. What he could see were ancient pines, large and weather worn. Nevertheless, they swayed like reeds in a current in the hellstorm that whipped around them. 

“Ciri,” Jaskier wheezed. “Let’s play a game.”

Ciri, tucked into her cloak so far that he could barely see her, gave a muffled, “okay.”

“How many red things can you name?”

“...apples,” was the muffled reply. 

“Cherries.”

“Rubies.”

“Wine.”

“Chili peppers,” Yennefer said, the wind almost stealing it, but Jaskier and Ciri smiled at eachother for dragging her into the game.

“Raspberries,” Ciri said.

“Blood?” Geralt grunted.

“Gross,” Ciri said, at the same time as Jaskier said, “What a witchery answer.”

“Tomatoes,” Yen said.

The game trailed away for a while as the cart rattled worryingly across some tough ground. Geralt and Yennefer ate while they walked, and Ciri and Jaskier chewed on some dried meat. Mostly Ciri, Jaskier dozed, too exhausted to even chew. 

When he opened his eyes again the wind was still howling, but the sky looked darker. It must be evening.

“Dandelion,” Ciri whispered. “are you awake?”

“Mmhm,” he said.

“I’m cold.” 

Jaskier was too, the snow had soaked into him so he was damp, but then it froze again, taking him with it. 

“We’re almost there,” Geralt grunted. His voiced sounded strained and weary, but Jaskier didn’t have the strength to look and find out why. “C’mon girl,” Geralt said, clicking his tongue at Roach. “We can make it, do it for me.”

“Hey Ciri,” Jaskier slurred, tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“Hm?”

“Roses are red.”

He imagined Ciri smiling at him tiredly, but he couldn’t see her, bundled in the blankets. He could hear her teeth chatter though. “Jam is red, sometimes,” she said. 

“Eskel’s shirt is red,” Geralt said, raising his voice above the wind. 

“N-no fair,” Jaskier muttered. “I’ve never even seen him.” To his surprise he was drifting off again. It felt different though, a little like drowning. Some part of him felt he should panic, but he hadn’t the energy. 

“You can see him,” Geralt said, sounding a little frantic. “He’s right there, standing on the path ahead of us. We’re here, Jaskier, look at Eskel.”

Jaskier wanted to, but his eyelids were too heavy.

“Geralt--” began a new voice.

“Eskel please, they need help.”

“I know, give her to me, I’ll carry her the rest of the way.”

Carry who? Jaskier wondered, then he realized that he hadn’t heard Yennefer speak lately.

A whistle came from up ahead. “C’mon Pretty Boy,” another new voice. “I’ll take your pampered horse, you lay them in front of the fire.”

There was some rustling and Jaskier wreched his eyes open with his last ounce of effort. An older man with a moustache and a face like a wall of granite was lifting Ciri from the cart. He took care with her, cradling her and walking away quickly. Vesemir? Probably. His eyes fell shut again. 

“Jaskier c’mon,” Geralt said in his ear. His breath stuttered warmth across Jaskier’s cheek. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re here, just don’t fall asleep on me, please.”

Jaskier wanted to open his eyes, just to reassure Geralt but everything seemed to be drifting away. He was laid down on something soft and felt the heat of fire on his face. There was the scent of pine logs, snapping and cracking as their sap burned away. Hands, Geralt’s hands, rubbed up Jaskier’s arms, forcing the blood to move. His soaked cloak was stripped away, leaving him chilled but dry, and then soft, dry fabric was pulled around him. Someone had wrapped him into a blanket and was rubbing his fingers. Both his hands were cupped between two larger ones and warm air was blown across them. The blood returning to his hands felt so hot it burned and hurt and he squirmed, but he was too tired to pull away. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he heard Geralt say as he rubbed more heat into Jaskier’s fingers. “Ciri’s okay, and Yen’s okay. You have to be okay, Jaskier. Warm up. You need to be warm.”

“Give ‘im some time, Lad,” Jaskier heard. Another new voice. Must belong to Vesemir. 

“He’s so cold,” was the whispered reply.

“The boy trekked after you for years, he’s resilient. He’ll be okay.”

“But--”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, let him rest.”

Jaskier heard no more, but it was so nice, the fire and the fur beneath him, and Geralt, holding his hands. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. 

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They finally got there! 

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Tags are being weird, if I missed you, or you want to be added, let me know

[masquenoire]

Send “talk about” and a name…

“Tell me about Bruce Wayne.”

"He’s the same as the rest of them, fake.” Roman sneered, barely paying attention to the psychiatrist on the other side of the room. He didn’t usually. They rarely stuck around for long, either frightened off by his volatile temper or preferring to hand his case over for some other overworked and underpaid shrink in this nuthouse to deal with instead. However, he wasn’t referring to the man in glasses waiting patiently to hear his answer. The instant Doctor Crane (or whatever the fuck he was called) mentioned that name, Roman’s attention immediately became fixated on the topic. Bruce Fucking Wayne. How he detested that name. The sound of his knuckles cracking was audible as he clenched his fists in familiar hatred, not unlike the last time he’d been dragged into this very room before his ire had gotten the better of him, resulting in their little ‘session’ ending early. If the new guy had heard anything about that, he didn’t seem bothered at all. Maybe they’d learned their lesson from his last outburst, finding somebody made of sterner stuff. “Perfect little Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham. That son of a bitch is the Prince of Lies if you ask me! I knew him years ago and I’ll tell you he’s every bit the same, scheming piece of shit as he was back then just like all the other socialite scumbags sitting pretty at the top of the food chain. My parents actually wanted us to be friends, can you believe that??” Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he struggled to relax in his seat. Had the good doctor mentioned literally anybody else, he might not have allowed himself to get so flustered but the name of the one man he loathed to his bitter core was akin to waving a red flag before a raging bull. And just like that sorry bull, Crane’s flag proved too irresistible a target to ignore. He remembered that day they’d met, the first time he’d been allowed to meet somebody his own age. That face. The hair. The manners. Bruce had it all, always did, even the love of his parents as they ushered their boy into the Sionis’ family hall. Mother had acted graciously just like she always done while entertaining finer company, his parents called it, her manners impeccable as she fussed and fretted about their ‘guests’ in a way she’d never done when it came to her own flesh and blood. It had been an eye-opening experience, the moment when Roman realized everything he’d ever known was all bullshit. ”Who am I kidding? Of course you don’t, but we were a big name back in the day when all the Waynes were still alive and kicking. Yeah, I could tell you a thing or two about that...” He said in a voice calmer than usual, dark gaze flickering towards the other man’s face as as he finally paid attention to Doctor Crane. Blue eyes. The man had blue eyes, startlingly reminiscent of when he’d known a younger Bruce Wayne. At the time, it baffled Roman why his parents wanted so badly for him to be friends with Thomas and Martha’s golden boy when behind closed doors, the things they said about the family would have made a sailor blush. He knew better now, of course; his parents had only cared about the prestige, hoped maybe they’d become something more one day. All he’d wanted was this intruder out of his home, to send him packing along with his fake, perfect family. Instead he’d been forced to play along with the delusion, to show Bruce his room including his collection of masks to which the boy only seemed politely interested about. It was ironic how none of them understood that the masks they wore every day was what was truly strange instead of the ones he collected. Roman might have said something similar out loud in that moment, his parents overhearing with a gasp while Bruce pretended he’d heard no such thing. He clenched his fists again, glaring at Crane as though it was the psychiatrist’s fault that had happened way back then. He’d simply been honest about his dislike of Bruce and for exposing the truth, he’d paid most dearly indeed. After the Waynes left, only then did his mother finally remove her own mask, unleashing her pent-up vitriol as she screamed and screamed for hours at Roman. Her fury at his refusal to play along with their false narrative was so great she’d even slapped him, causing the man to subconsciously press a hand to his cheek as he recalled the sharp, sudden sting of her punishing touch. But he wasn’t here to think about that bitch, was he? He was here to talk about Wayne. "Breaks my heart that dear old mom and dad didn’t get to live long enough to see what he’s really like, buying out the family business for a pittance when it was most vulnerable. Some friend he’d have made. You think Old Bruce did that out of the goodness of his own heart? Like hell he did! They’re all in it for themselves up there, pretending to care when all they want is more! People think he’s so wonderful just because he’s rich, that he lost his parents as a kid. Wasn’t enough that he had it all but then he had to go steal MY legacy too? And they call him a humanitarian?? Fuck that!!!” Roman screamed, slamming his fist down on the table as hard as he could, relishing the pain doing so caused his hand. Fuck Bruce Wayne, and fuck Arkham too for that matter.

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Update to Soft Cover: Of A Feather, a story about an ice church at the bottom of the world and some angels, one fallen, one demoted. Request by @snowmanmelting that I am very VERY late on, but hopefully that will all be forgiven after reading xD

Can also be read below

Anna breathes deeply in the freezing, near arctic air of the church around her. The chill settles in her lungs, pooling in swirls before the heat of her body changes her exhale into a foggy cloud. She repeats the action again, focusing on the divine energy in her veins, the radiance of her feathers, and the glow of the halo above her head.

Anything to distract her from how ungodly cold her butt is on this literal ice floor.

Distracted, a chill leaps up Anna’s spine. Goosebumps shiver down her arms and she sighs, opening her eyes. The deep blue of the ice encompasses her, a place of worship carved from the glacier itself. Marvelous and stunning, a true feat of engineering, sculpting, and faith. Remarkable, beautiful.

Cold.

As more shivers rack her celestial body, Anna’s teeth begin to chatter. Repositioning herself a little, Anna attempts to resume her solitary meditation and prayer, but with a glum pout, she recalls instead the warmth of summer air and rustle of leaves in trees full of life and vigor. So different from her current surroundings - where once she enjoyed a place of open space and sunlight against skin, now Anna trembles in the cold and dark, where the sun holds no warmth and blinds instead of caresses.

And it’s all her fault.

But it’s fine. A century or so of consistent devotion and guidance for humanity will put Anna right back where she was, enjoying the breeze under her wings and the sparkles of the stars over the water. Patience is a virtue, she reminds herself as she closes her eyes once more, one that she has in spades. Or she will if she simply asks - being an angel and all, it would be granted immediately. Anna reaches for the tether to her divinity, a golden Light in her mind’s eye, feeling herself settle back to recharging the church with holy presence and serenity.

Until the resounding clack of steel-toed boots echoes throughout the chamber, shattering her focus and winking out the Light like a candle.

Anna scrambles to her feet, heart in her throat. Quickly she checks her glamor (a hand at her head, wrist, and knee) and adjusts the hang of her clothes. Simple white cloth, pinned at her shoulder, cinched at her waist. Her feet are bare as they press against the ice floor. The echoes continue and a shadow moves down the hall where the main room becomes a long hallway leading to the outside. The church is hardly ever  closed and people come and go as they please in the days between services, but it is unusual that Anna would not sense them. Unusual also to not hear the heavy wooden doors groan open to admit the visitor.

Regardless, Anna concentrates on making herself presentable. Be they godly, then Anna is prepared; be they human they will find an empty hall for them to do what they need, unaware of the angel in the room, ready to assist.

The shadow proceeds across the wall, closer with every step. Anna tilts her head at a curious sound. Thick boots for crunching through ice and snow are typical this far beneath Earth’s equator, but these shoes don’t sound… right. They are loud for certain, but light, with a rhythmic one-two as opposed to the heavy clump of the whole boot. Perhaps a wanderer, Anna thinks, or a tourist.

But tourists typically gasp and “ooooh” and “aaaah” at the decor, walls, and sacred objects on display.

Not hopscotch back and forth on their toes while muttering curses.

Suddenly, Anna knows who this is. It’s really a shame she didn’t get around to asking for that Patience, because right now, she’s going to need every ounce that God has ever produced.

“Helloooooo!” Comes a cheery, high pitched voice. “Anyone home?”

A woman arrives around the corner. About average in height, slim in build, with pale skin, gleeful blue eyes, and long, unbound white hair. The strange footfall Anna had heard made perfect sense now as the woman steps further into the room, head turning this way and that, as her heels click and rebound in the icy chamber. She is certainly NOT dressed for the weather. No thick coat or furred gloves, no goggles or padded leggings - nothing at all remarkable - in fact she wears a similar outfit to Anna’s except in black. Simple cloth, pinned at her shoulder, cinched at her waist, baring her arms and calves.

No. Not a visitor at all.

A trespasser.

Anna folds her arms and scowls. With a mighty and decisive huff of air, she drags the Light from within her and fills the chamber with holy energy.

The woman notices immediately, yelping in surprise as though she’s been pinched.

“Unnecessary,” the woman grouses, her eyes tightening slightly in pain, “but I knew you’d be here. Hiding as usual.” She scans the room again, eyes roaming past Anna once, then twice, before a grin breaks out on the woman’s face. “Where are you, little angel?”

Anna will not play this game. This woman’s actions and appearance bely her nature, and her presence in this place is not only unwelcome but forbidden. Ire rises in Anna and she pushes it out, raising the temperature in the room and causing the interloper peering between the pews to wince.

Even a demoted angel does not allow a demon to wander into her home so casually.

The woman continues her search, even as the seconds tick by and the energy in the room gives the icy walls an ethereal inner glow. The floor becomes too hot for her tastes and she hops up on a pew, balancing herself, arms out to her sides as she continues wandering around the room, making smaller and smaller concentric circles. She gets closer, despite the angel’s best efforts. With one last shove, Anna manifests her wings, all seven feet of bright white glory nearly burning to the touch, fills the room with crackling energy - and this time the woman does stop. She loses her footing mid-step, dropping to one knee. Sweat beads on her brow and as Anna watches the trespasser struggles briefly to raise her eyes in Anna’s general direction.

“Ah, there you are,” she gasps, grunting as she rises and makes her way forward. Anna’s focus drops for a moment, surprised, and this is all the confirmation the woman needs. In hardly a moment, she is right before Anna, nearly eye to eye, though she looks right through the angel because of her glamor. Invisible. Unbreachable. Unflappable.

“Hello, angel,” the woman says, raising her hand and pressing her pointer finger smartly on the tip of Anna’s nose.

Not un-boopable, apparently.

In an instant Anna’s glamor falls away, the heat and energy she’d gathered flooding into the floors and walls.

“What’s with that face?” The woman smiles with good humored teasing.

Anna shakes her touch off and backs up a step. “How did you know where I was?”

The woman shrugs carelessly, “You were the angriest spot in the room. Pretty easy, all things considered.”

Anna bites her tongue, a boiling explicative at it’s tip. Swearing isn’t particularly Godly, and it would probably just make the woman laugh.

“I thought I would come and check up on you,” the demon continues, “because I haven’t seen you in some time. Not since the penguins had their chicks.” Anna looks down, pretending to find some interesting crack in the ice floor.

So she’d noticed Anna’s presence back then. Watching over a bouldered hill as the demon meandered around the flock like they were her own family and neighbors. Huh…

“Well it’s been nice seeing you,” Anna replies abruptly, “but you’d better leave.”

“So soon?” The woman blinks innocently. “But I just got here.”

“You’re not even allowed in here. Besides, I’m busy,” Anna scowls. She hopes her expression is enough to convince the demon to leave her, and this place, alone. Still waiting on that Patience virtue, and Anna’s personal reserves are already running on empty.

The woman tilts her head, and Anna has to remind herself that any compassion she might see in those eyes is a lie. “Still trying to summon enough power to charge this place? You’ve been trying for, let’s see, a few months now? With how low attendance has been lately, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Church is more than just a place, but one of it’s core requirements is members. People who come and go and frequent, creating a routine, a rhythm, a recognized space. A guardian angel assigned to a church takes over for generating that energy when the members are gone. The ice church had very few visitors to begin with, and tourists didn’t tend to devote time to energizing a place. So Anna often spent her days locked in meditation, channeling her divinity into the ice around her.

A grueling, thankless task.

“Well you should be done by now,” the woman muses aloud, taking stock of the room.

“I would be,” Anna growls, her hands balling into fists, “if someone didn’t keep interrupting me!”

“If you just looked--”

Anna sighs and draws her hand down her face. “Elsa…” Then she flinches. Between her fingers, Anna peeks at the woman in front of her.

Oh, if that was ever a Chesire grin.

“In honor of you using my name, I’ll stop beating around the snow mound,” Elsa beams, her ice blue eyes sparkling with merriment and cheer. She points to the ceiling, other hand cocked confidently on her hip. “See anything new up there, angel?”

Surely this demon has to be pulling her wing, but Anna complies and looks up, expecting the blank, dark surface of the thick oceanic ice.

Not so.

The ceiling is alive with Light, shimmering like the Aurora Australis. The ice seems lit from within by winking stars, the deep blue shot through with purples and greens and golds. The greatest Light of them all gathers in the center of the ceiling above their heads, bright and full. The sign of a fully charged house.

“When did…?” Anna murmurs.

“You always have trouble focusing,” Elsa says, turning Anna’s attention back to her. “Except for when you’re trying to kick me out.” The demon holds up her hands, “Rules are rules, I get it, but I thought, ‘Why not give her a little nudge and see if that helps.’” She looks up at the ceiling again, a soft expression on her face. “Seems like a resounding success.”

Anna doesn’t have an argument, so she stays quiet. Giving Elsa the satisfaction of thinking she played a part in divine dealings may be a mistake, one she doesn’t want to make.

“Now that you’re done,” Elsa turned and beckoned over her shoulder. “How about a break?”

“Angels don’t take breaks,” Anna says haughtily, crossing her arms. “Demons might: Disconnected and all that, aimless. But  we have more important things to do.”

Elsa pouts, her lower lip full and pitiful. “Trying to hurt my feelings, angel? Think I’ll try something if you step one foot out of here? You give me too much credit.”

“What would I even do ‘taking a break’? Walk around the ice until the frozen wind takes my wings?” Anna shakes her head. “No thank you. It might not always be warm in here, but it’s way better than out there.”

Elsa regards Anna over her shoulder before turning back. “You don’t like it here, that much is clear. And I know you’re trying to leave.” Anna darts her eyes away. “You hate it down here. Cold and dark, the sun only shining a few months out of the year. You’re lonely--”

“And it’s none of your business!” Anna snaps. This demon was edging dangerously close to a wound that was still fresh, even after all these years, all this time. A memory of warm sunlight dances in Anna’s mind and she wills herself to believe it’s just the wings on her back.

“Don’t lie,” Elsa says gently, “we can both feel it.”

Anna takes a deep breath in through her nose and exhales out her mouth. Steadily, she says, “Get out, demon.”

“Come with me, Anna.”

Her name echoes between them. Anger bubbles in Anna’s chest but dies just as quickly. She’s tired. Wary, but tired of always trying, always watching her best not being enough. But she has to push through, endure.

“I haven’t seen any other angel but you in one hundred years, Anna.” The demon turns her back and begins walking down the hall towards the entrance. “You don’t have to take up my offer, but know that I have no other motive than seeing you achieve your goal. I just want you to be able to enjoy it when that reward finally comes, and not be a burnt out pile of nerves and worry. I’ll be outside.”

Anna watches her go, heels clicking against the ice until they don’t. Silence descends again, absolute.

She should let her go, Anna thinks.

And she continues to think, even as her feet move and fingers trace the walls to check that the energy in the room won’t dissipate when she leaves. Not too much anyway. While the demon’s methods may annoy Anna to no end, she can’t ignore their effectiveness.

The wind howls outside, ripping at the fabric of Anna’s clothing in swift gusts. She slams the heavy door shut and shields her eyes with a hand, looking around for the demon who enticed her out here. Anna’s regret is immediate and grand. She’s stationed in the arctic, or practically anyway. Sunlight a few hours a day when they get it, or all day, never once setting, without the heat to match. Shadows rush in between bursts of snow, obscuring everything more than a few feet away.

“Demon!” Anna shouts, one eye shut as a snowflake flies in, stinging and cold. “Where are you?”

“Right here, angel.” A voice next to her says, appearing at her side almost instantly. “I must say, I knew you’d follow, but not this fast.”

“Tease me any more and you’ll enjoy this beautiful weather alone,” Anna gripes, unconsciously stepping into Elsa’s shadow. If Elsa had any opposition to Anna using her as a living snow shield, she didn’t say so. Even still, what little warmth Anna’s body had stored indoors was quickly being lost, and with the chill biting into her very bones, there was little hope of calling upon her divine power for relief.

In a last ditch effort, Anna’s wings puff up like a bird’s, thick and fluffed, blocking the majority of the wind and snow from hitting her torso. Anna didn’t bother looking at Elsa’s face. She could feel the humor in the very air itself.

“You got me out here de--.... Elsa. What now?”

“I thought perhaps a change of scenery would do you good,” Elsa shouts above the wind, close to Anna’s ear.

Guarded, Anna asks, “Where to?”

Elsa nudges Anna’s shoulder with her own, then walks a few steps out into the weather before facing the church entrance. “I was thinking up there,” Elsa points. Anna frowns, walking out to join her, realizing that Elsa had indicated a spot far above the gables and eaves of the church roof.

“You’re joking.”

“I am not,” Elsa responds flatly. “Have you ever been up there? Perhaps the view won’t be all that much right now, but I promise, it has it’s value, just out of sight.” Anna eyes her skeptically, but she supposed if Elsa did anything odd, she could alway just ask God to smite her. A few extra feet up may actually just make the shot easier.

Satisfied, Anna steps away from Elsa, fanning out her wings in preparation to jump. No more than a story or two, a leap as easy as breathing for someone used to soaring higher than clouds.

A quiet cough stops her short. “I’m happy that you’re eager, angel,” Elsa squints against the snow. It blows around her in circles, almost a bubble, unable to pass too close. A control Anna doesn’t have, or perhaps a tactic she would only resort to without her Light. “But if you want company, you’ll have to stoop low and assist the enemy.”

Behind her back something appears, like watercolor paint bleeding and blooming into shape, spreading out from her clothed shoulders to the ground. Feathers the color of oil, of moonless nights and obsidian shards. They weigh heavy against the demon, dragging beyond her feet, stuck marred and running with clumps of snow.

The chains of course, don’t make them any lighter.

Binding and unbreakable, the unearthly metal presses tightly against every shift the wings make, the occasional clink heard even over the gale. The limbs are lashed close to Elsa’s spine, tight and uncomfortable with no padlock to be seen, no reference to freedom or release, and Anna knows that there never will be.

Once fallen, always Bound.

“Dead weight,” Elsa says with a nonchalance that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She flexes the muscles in her flightless wings, which rise an inch or two before dropping laboriously. “But their weight is only mine to bear. Carry me up, and I’ll show you what I meant earlier about there being more to this place than meets the eye. Heavenly or otherwise.”

Anna looks between their destination and her companion, then back again. “Alright,” she says at length, “but only this once. And it better be worth it.”

“Excellent!” Elsa drapes an arm suddenly around Anna’s shoulders and grips her tightly before kicking both feet off the ground. On reflex, Anna widens her stance and gets an arm under Elsa’s legs so she doesn’t get pulled down by Elsa’s gravity. She stumbles a bit under the weight of a body in her arms, relief washing through her that she’d managed to catch Elsa before they both fell… until she realizes  exactly  how Elsa desires to be carried, and dumps the demon unceremoniously to the ice cold ground.

“Ow!” Elsa gripes, rubbing her lower back. “What was that for?”

“No way,” Anna cuts her hands decisively through the air. “Absolutely no way am I carrying you like that.”

“Have a problem with bridal style, angel?” Elsa asks with a raised eyebrow, wiping snow from her black tunic. “Honestly, I thought it was just efficient.”

“Oh,” Anna’s mouth curls mischievously. “If it’s efficiency you’re looking for then how about this?” Without waiting for an answer, Anna hitches Elsa bodily over her shoulder, the demon’s legs kicking wildly in her face. As she grinds her feet into the ice, Anna thinks she hears a shout of protest but it is lost to the whistle of wind during take off.

Perhaps she should have taken heed, because Anna only gets about one floor up before Elsa’s heel smacks against the underside of her chin with force, snapping her head up and making her vision go even whiter than the blizzard outside. They crash into a snowdrift that had accumulated on the side of the church, dense, freezing, and muffled. Well, except for the grunting and digging to get back to the surface.

“What’s your problem!?” Anna bursts out, wiping snow out of her hair.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Elsa spits back, breathing heavily as she hauls herself out onto flat ground. Her shoulders slump with effort, and for the first time, Anna can see how much Elsa’s bound wings affect her. Like she can’t get enough air, or stand to her full height. How their presence smothers her, a weighted blanket with hundred pound plates, constricting her spine and dragging her down, down, down. Chained to the earth, shackled from the sky.

“I think break time is over,” Elsa says, adjusting her clothing back to rights, or as right as they could get for now. “I’ll let you get back to your study and meditation, since that seems to be what you’d prefer.”

“No I--, I’m sorry,” Anna stammers. Elsa seems surprised by her confession, and if Anna’s honest, so is she. “I want to see this view you speak so highly of. It must be… special.”

Elsa accepts her words with a nod. A beat passes before she asks, “So, how are we getting up there?”

“You’ll have to climb.” Anna smiles softly at Elsa’s weary expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you.”

The slope of the snow bank makes the first part fairly simple, and before too long, Elsa is scaling the side of the building as quickly, though carefully, as she can. Every handhold is slick with ice, but Anna melts and evaporates them in quick succession so Elsa doesn’t slip. Certainly slower than flying, but it’s a decent compromise.

And… it gives Anna some time to think.

Why does Elsa care that Anna succeeds? In her tasks, her goals. In leaving this place behind for good. Elsa is a demon, she should be trying to pull Anna further, demotion after demotion until there was nothing less but the permanent boot down to hell. A great achievement that would be, felling an angel. Perhaps Elsa is playing the long game, biding her time, but Anna was stuck in this lonely, frozen landscape anyway, shouldn’t that make Elsa’s job easier? To prey on the mortals that came here, less guarded if their protector angel was distracted?

Anna unfreezes and dries another foothold for Elsa, hovering just behind her in case she falls. Elsa flashes her a grateful smile before concentrating once more. Anna remembers that demons lie, are expert deceivers, and will tell you anything you want to get you to slip, to tempt and to taunt.

But… everything? Even the small things, the inconsequential? The silent ‘thank yous’ for doing a favor?

These thoughts swirl around Anna’s head until Elsa clears her throat, breaking through the fog. She sits atop the roof, safely ascended. “We’re here.”

There is a valley, a cubby really, made between three steeply slanted roofs. Were this the type of geographic location to have a rainy season, this would most certainly be the most uncomfortable place to be - slick with water and grime that washed off the tiles. But with densely packed snow and ice creating a buffer, it’s actually rather quaint. Elsa walks forward, the snow lifting up in glittering heaps of flakes. A space is carved before Anna’s eyes, just big enough for the two of them. “I used to come up here all the time,” Elsa says as the hovering snowflakes settle among the rest of the rooftop piles. “When it was first settled and built. I liked to hear people's voices from below, even if it was faint. The energy of their Light wasn’t small by any means, but it was human, and easier to bear. Of course, with the arrival of a certain someone, I wasn’t quite so cozy anymore, unless I wanted to feel like my clothing was burning off.” Elsa tosses a forgiving look behind her. “Don’t worry, I’d say the price of meeting you was well worth losing a little hang out spot.”

She motions for Anna to sit down. As she does, Anna feels the chill of the air seep into her bones again. Exhaustion has crept up on her; using her power to charge the church, then fly, then help Elsa climb, had been more taxing than she’d realized. She settles in the crux of the roofs, surprisingly snug and comfortable. And on any other day, it might have been.

But the below freezing temperatures send shivers down Anna’s spine and raise gooseflesh on her skin. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes, looking for that tether of Light, that candle of warmth within her. But it’s gone, or so low it hides. Even her wings barely glow anymore, their protection offered only in the fluff of celestial feathers. Cold wraps around her, its erratic touch scattering every attempt at concentrating.

Punishment. For taking pity on the enemy. For failing her duties. For falling from grace. That sunlight in Anna’s memory would stay there, forever.

Suddenly Elsa is beside her, blocking the wind with her body and more. Her wings, damaged and curtailed, stretch over their heads to the extent that they could, chains restricting more than the bare minimum of mobility. They take up the spaces that Anna’s wings cannot fill, a black and white barrier against the storm. Free from the brunt of the gale, warmth seeps back into Anna’s limbs and her breath begins to fog in the air.

“Better, angel?” Elsa asks without looking at her. Her expression is inscrutable, and it's all Anna can do to nod and try looking for her Light once more. The candle catches faintly in her chest, further heating the air around them. She lowers it gently as she hears Elsa’s breath hitch next to her, unwilling to harm the demon anymore.

The world outside shrinks away, the space inside quiet and content. Not perfect, but comfortable enough. “I can see why you’d like it up here,” Anna comments. “Like this it’s almost serene.”

“I thought you’d like it, too,” and Elsa’s tone of voice is knowing, back to light teasing. “Did you really think I’d drag you all the way up here for some scheme? As you could see, it would have hardly been worth the effort on my part.”

“Perhaps,” Anna replies, “but you never know with demons.”

"You never know with demons, but that’s a conversation for another day.” Elsa settles again, their sides touching. “Now I really do think break time is over. You should try meditating up here, perhaps it will be easier.”

Anna laughs. “Trying to find a partner for eternity, are we, Elsa?”

Elsa doesn’t respond to the jest, merely reiterating that Anna should try meditating again.

Anna tries...but she doesn’t succeed. Instead those thoughts from before return to her, about Elsa, about what the demon means to her. About what Elsa wants. What she, Anna,… wants.

To leave, right? Go back to favored, back to freedom and the Earth stretching beneath her wings. To the warmth and the sun.

Actually… now that she thinks about it, she’s pretty warm. The clouds part overhead and the sun’s light filters through their feathers, shining on her skin instead of being blocked by ten layers of ocean ice. She’s warm, and as Anna relishes that feeling she sinks further into her meditative posture until there’s nothing but soft, comfortable darkness.

--

Elsa feels Anna drift off under her wing. The angel’s breath ruffles the dead feathers, mimicking a flight long forgotten. Anna’s soft exhales flee into the surrounding winds but Elsa hears them in the cocoon on their own making. As Anna succumbs to sleep her head rests on Elsa’s shoulder.

“Even angels need to rest,” she says quietly, tucking Anna more securely against her. Sleep laps at her too, the climb taking more out of her than she’d bargained for. She’d hoped for… well, she wasn’t entirely sure. A conversation. A common moment. A shared space. Elsa supposes she has that last one, just not how she’d expected.

But she learned long ago that the world didn’t always work on expectations.

Before too much longer, Elsa is asleep as well, her head on top of Anna’s, feathers fluttering in the wind. Two detach and dance in a shared current. One black, one white. They disappear amongst the ice.

[inlovewithfictionalmensblog]

Together

Pairing:Young!Sirius Black X Fem!potter!reader

Warning: mention of being in a crowded place yet feeling alone, fluff.

Summary: you've known Sirius black your whole life of Hogwarts, and through all those years, you both have been madly in love with each other, but yet you both are incredibly oblivious, thats changes after a talk at the astronomy tower.

(My first young Sirius black imagine, hope you enjoy!)

(Aesthetic made by me)

Sirius black was everything but insecure and alone. Thats what everyone thought, thats what everyone saw. Saw him surrounded by his buds, james potter, remus lupin, peter pettigrew and Y/potter. Sure he had his own family, the marauders, they always comforted him, accepted him.

But, no matter how crowed he was, he always felt alone. Empty, his scars hurt almost every day, but they werent anything like remus's.

He sometimes cries himself to sleep from the pain and memories. James, remus, and Peter only know the half. But y/n, she doesn't know at all. Why? Because Sirius was so afraid she would pity him and feel sorry for him.

Which led to now.

"I just wished you would have told me. That day, when you showed up at out door, you didn't get jumped...yo-your parents" y/n told him facing him. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to look at her. If he did, he would break down...there.

"I didn't want you to look at me differently" Sirius mumbled looking down. Y/n scoffed, tears nearly falling down.

"I wouldn't Sirius. You're my bestfriend, my everything. If you were to die, shit i'd die too, if you get hurt, i get hurt to whether on accident ir on purpose. Remember?" Y/n looked at him. She knew he didn't want pity.

Sirius finally looked at her, tears threatening to show. He looked down to his hands, hiding his face. Y/n frowned sadly. She walked slowly up to him, she lifted her hands, offering to hold his. Sirius hesitated, but accepted it. Y/n held it in her hands.

"I should've known something was up, the scars, the breakdown, the ripped letters ...i- im sorry siri." Y/n dropped years, Sirius shaked his head

"No, no no no, dont cry my love..this had nothing to do with you. Please dont cry" Sirius shut hiz eyes. Y/n utterd "can i hold you ?"

Sirius opened his eyes to see y/n looking at him, sweelty. He nodded tearfully. They sat down on the solid ground, y/n held him, as both dropped a few tears. Sirius has never been held before, sometimes he did by remus, but never the way y/n was holding him now. He felt safe, home, he felt loved. He hiccup making y/n giggle softly.

"Dont remember what i told you. When we first made the map?" Y/n asked him. He nodded, letting out a laugh.

"You said 'now i get to stalk whoever i want' and james replied with 'bet its pads' and i said 'probably diggory' but after that i received karma because prongs pushed me with his stag horns"

Y/n laughed, "i didn't stalk diggory, but in 5th year, when you were on a date with taylor, i felt so jelouse, so i stole the map from james and decided to ruin your date" Sirius gasped getting up from her arms.

"So it was you!" "James said it was you but i didn't believe him"

Y/n laughed, until Sirius's face lit up.

"Wait, why were you jelouse?" He asked curiously. Y/n sigher getting up.

"Because i wanted to be the one you were out on a date with" y/n shyly said, Sirius's eyes widened, his mouth opened. Y/n frowned.

"Can...can we forget i said that, please?" She begged, but Sirius didn't care. He kissed her harshly yet passionately. His lips were heaven.

Soft, and delicious. Y/ns lips were a drug to Sirius, cherry chapstick, soft and smooth.

It was even better than when it was in the dreams.

"I-when you went on a date with gideon i wanted nothing but to kill him on the spot" Sirius confessed. Y/n laughed.

"Win win" y/n mutterd pecking him again.

Sirius smiled looking down at her.

-------

Okay but, like look

LIKE AHHHGGGG...ngl i freakin died when i watched that video. Literally anything that had ben barnes is freakin beautiful.

Like.....GODDAMN.

Anyhoo enough of my addiction, im thinking of making prompts and opening requests, of course if you want me to write about who you want the story about, you'd have to give me some information about them and what's their character in the show or movie.

Or if you want a celebrity imagine.

Like, just comment the number and the request and I'll be working on it as soon as i can.

Please, give some writting tips!

[actor-mark]

Red Candles Pt 14

OOC: How to vote: Send your choice in an ask to this blog. Comments, reblogs and dms will not count as I do not get notifications for them nor do I want to screenshot from several places. I’ve spotted a couple of older choices coming through, please make sure to check by the blog to be up to date with the latest post! Thank you! Oof got another long one for ya

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

Trouble? Touch Me!

It’s a long shot but honestly right now you’ll take anything. Going to prison doesn’t sound like a great time, and you’ve been through hell already you don’t need to go crawling up Fire escapes trying to out run the Detective.  That graffiti on the wall? Oh you know already exactly who that is, and what it’ll do!

Without a beat you bolt, and the sweaty detective Is fats on your heels “HEY!! OHH NO! NOT THIS TIME PAL! GET BACK HERE!”  Fast as your tired legs will carry you, you rush for the ridiculous graffiti and go to slam your haNd on the Stache, but end up falling straight through it like some sort of Super Mario 64 painting!

With a jolt of static you gasp for air, panting from the run, finDing yourself in a make up room backstage somewhere.  Gaudy game show music blasts through the walls. Oh shit- You’re late for the show!! Or are you early? 

There’s a sudden ruckus of screaming, loud explosive bangs and eventually yelling before a dark haired woman comes storming back stage “I’ve had enough. I’m done. I do NOT get paid enough for this. This is the LAST ti-” She pauses seeing you standing in the backstage room “Oh!- er.. Hello! Have you been back here this whole time? So so sorry, I know you were waiting to go on, shows cancelled.. AGAIN” 

A sheepish face with bright pink mustacHe pokes his head around the corner “am I fired?” The producer gives a growling sigh of frustration before storming off again, “we’ll see...” but not before giving you a smile “Have a good day” The door slams shut behind her

Mr Warfstache sort of pauses before looking to you, a bit flustered for a second before he hurries over.  For gods sake Wilford whEre’s your pants? Every damn time!  At least he has good taste in boxers.. These have pink unicorns on. 

“ah so sawry friend! Looks like the show didn’t go so well. I’m not sure whyyy. All I did was get rid of a pesky mosquito...”  He pauSes at the sound of a small bell dinging from the stage but he wafts a hand at it. He’ll get it later.  “Ah Sawry to keep you waiting-”  “OFFICE!!!” the producers voice yells from behind the door to your left and its weird but you feel a sense of Deja Vu going on somewhere.  Wilford quickly hurries off to the office, leaving you alone again backstage. 

Well... At least Abe isn’t around to arrest you now...  You take a moment tO peer around while listening to the absolute reeming that Wilford is getting.  blah blah stop shooting guests blah blah it was an accident blah blah i don’t wanna hear it blah blah im sorry blah blah cant believe I’m giving yoU another chance. 

The door opened again with an exasperated producer storming out with their bag and Wilford waddling out looking Like a grounded child.  “.... Well... I spose I awta send you hommme- ah unless!” His mood immediately brightened as he perked up  “You’re here for something else!” A lil stache waggle and he leaned closer “Hmmm.. Tabaco, whiskey, bawdy odor and -” snifffffffffffff! “a hint of cotton candy- WHY YOU MUST KNOW MY FRIEND THE DETECTIVE!”  You glance around to where you’d come through the graffiti, its gone, just a sofa behind you now. you glance back and Wilford’s gone. A quick glance around, you spin full circle shake your head- how in the hell did you end up in the detective’S office. Aw crap!  ...ɥⅎ ɯɹʅꝹ

“AAAAABE!”  The Detective looking forlorn at the loss of another suspect suddenly scrambles up out of his chair, gun in hand “WHAH!- Y-YOU!” The gun aims at Wilford, his eyes flash to you. “YOU!!!!” The gun changes onto you instead and you quickly put your hands up.  “How did you-.. never mind I’m not gonna ask! Nice of you to step right into my office!”  “You redecorated!” Wilford grinned brightly as he took a tour around the no longer black and white office, sure it was a ruddy brown mostly but hey brown was a color! In fact brown tended to be all colors mixed into one! It seemed to actually bright a little more colorfully wherever Wilford was stood though.  “You keep your hands where I can see ‘em” Abe yelled at you with a point of the gun before keeping it fixed on the bigger threat. Warfstache. 

“You’re not getting away from me this time! You walked right into the lions den, PAL!”  “You have kittens!?” Wilford immediately started to hunt around. “What- n- no! Its a meta-” “AWWW! THEYRE SO CUTE!”  “Wait wha-” Wilford emerged from the corner of the room holding two calico kittens, grinning like an idiot. “Where in the-” Abe glances to yOu with a look of utter confusion and you returned it with a shrug.  Abe quickly put the gun on Wilford again but his grips Faltering now, can’t shoot a guy holding kittens! 

As Wilford moved around showing the kitTens to a flustered frustrated detective who can’t help but pet one, you notice the gun and knife on Wilford’s person. Of course he has one of each but- wait... so do you. You have a knife still.  Carefully you draw it from your bag. If you’re gonna be trapped in here its best to be armed... 

𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑎𝑠𝑙 𝑌ℎ𝑖𝑖𝑝𝑎, 𝑘𝑝𝑘 𝑓𝑣𝑏 𝑛𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑣𝑧𝑎? You shake your head and look around the office again. Abe seems pretty distracted and while the graffiti did lead you on a bit of a run around, it’s put you back on a path...somewhere.. Maybe not too far away from your objective.  You could probably sneak away tHrough the door and leave these two to their long heated rivalry...and kittens. Abe probably wouldn’t even notice, hell maybe ole Warfy is actually doing exactly what you need, Abe’s back is to the door and you right now and Wilford actually seems to be keeping him like that.  He gives a lil Stache waggle and wink to you over Abe’s shoulder and goes back to fussing over names for the kittens.  “How about Terrance and Arty?”  “Aww I like Bubbles and Muttonchops!”  “What- th-those are terrible!” 

Slowly but carefully you inch your way out of the office to head into the rest of the station, there’s a bit of a fizzling noise as you pass through the door into the kitchen and as you turn around- wait... 

You stare at the new area you’ve been warped into and your shoulder sink.  Does this crap ever end? One after another. It’s getting nauseating!  With a heaved sigh you take a look around.. again...  Clean white walls, floors, ceiling, a bed, night stand, an I.V. polE. Hospital. 

𝑃𝑚𝑥𝑥𝑝𝑖 𝑉𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑚𝑥 𝑗𝑠𝑦𝑟ℎ 𝑥𝑙𝑖 𝑔𝑒𝑣𝑣𝑠𝑥!

With a sigh you carefully move to the Door, opening it to peer out to the left, to the right. DArk? It’s so Dark you can barely see, but thankfully it seeMs you’re in luck.  The light on the wall opposite you is flickeriNg in sort of an arrow shapE pointing to the left.  Though there is also an arrow pointing right that says EXIT.  Each path seems to leaD to a Dark hallway...

Your Choices Are As Follows: 

Glitchy Arrow Maybe it’s a sign? Well- it IS a sign, a literal sign.. but y’know maybe a figurative sign too! The sign reads Elevator and Stairs. 

Exit Hospital? Hell no! Get me out of here! Who knows what kind of crazy Doctors are running around this place.  ʌɥⅎʅs ʍzu ʌsƃ ɯɹ ᴉʌǝʌᴉʅn ɥⅎ ɯɹʅꝹ

OOC: We had a tie breaker today folks! I ended up asking a friend who hears a lot of my planning to pick one and they picked Stache.  Also I believe we’re quickly coming to the close here folks! I wanna thank you all again for a fun adventure! I might do another one once this is done if folks still wanna do these! Let me know in your next asks if you’d be interested in another!  Extra vote from Sparkplugmedia: Trouble? Touch Me!

[sweetestlamb]

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)

Summary: A deeper look into Gang-tae's dream sequence in "Rain on Me" as requested by my bb @emanmc24.

Author's note: This is not safe for work, around friends, public transportation none of that. Okay I warned you 😂😈 This is filthy nasty public motorcycle rain sex (Jae-su, bro please don't kill me it's only a dream.) My brain tried to do its thing with inner monologues (what's wrong with me???) But I snapped it back into focus and the majority of this is just gutter smut. It's GT's dream so he's a lot more dominant and unpinned than he was in ROM, he is literally living his fantasy so it's very different from the original story. Enjoy my pervy loves!! ♥️

p.s. I made the header so it’s not as amazing as usual but I have fun learning how to do new things here! I will definitely let the pro make the next one for the wedding fic tho lol (I didn’t want to bother you on such short notice @essantial​) 

The rain pelts against his chilled skin icy pinpricks making his bone ache and his heart pound as it pumps blood into the tired limbs of his body. Her arms are tight vices around his stomach, her hold so strong he feels as if he might shatter under the pressure. A sandcastle disintegrating beneath the powerful devastating crash of a tidal wave.

The motorcycle rumbling between his thighs begins to stutter, hiccuping and sputtering before it halts completely, he veers to safety on the side of the road.

"Alberto, please. Please not now." He pleads with the rebellious bike, stroking the handlebars in condolence. But his endeavors are fruitless as the motorcycle remains unimpeded by his suffering and it remains stagnant beneath him.

The arms clasped around his body suddenly loosen, as he feels the comfortable weight previously blanketing his rain tormented body shift away. Her voice is muffled by the cacophonous watery downpour that cascades from the heavens. But he is entranced by the vision of her, gesturing angrily in the rain.

Said rain has drenched every inch of her lithe enticing form, her pristine deceptively angelic dress soaked to the point of transparency, tempting black peeking through the material, she resembles a goddess with her thick dark hair, long and heavy draping over her shoulder in a wet tangled knot.

He stumbles back as her hands shove into him, finally close enough to hear the words of ire falling from those haunting lips, "How could you get us stuck out here! I don't want to freeze to death, do something!"

His own frustration flare up at her accusations, he didn't do anything, how could she possibly blame him for this mishap? He was just as disheartened and upset as she was, her anger was misplaced and he wasn't in the mood to deal with her agression.

He watches as her hands shoot out once more, their target his chest once more and instinctively he catches them, snatching them easily from the air and pinning them to her side. A quiet look of surprise blooms on her face, before her lips curl into a nasty snarl.

"Get off me." She orders, twisting away from his hold, he tightens his hand, yanking her closer to him defiantly instead.

Their eyes meet in an clash, her usual dispassionate gaze lost to a swirl of fire and brimstone, almost simultaneously both their eyes drop lower, the heat between them so searing, steams wafts off in soft bellows of smoke.

He pulls her ever closer, bodies plastered together, and once again she speaks this time mockingly, "Don't start something you can't finish, Moon Gang-tae." Biting his name out, the challenge evident in her tone.

He's infuriatingly tired of her mouth.

His lips slam into hers in a move that knocks her back, releasing her hands he grabs her waist, so small that he's almost able to meet his fingers around it. Feeling her so delicate and slight in his arms awakens the dark possession he fights so hard to keep locked away. He now feels the door blasted off the hinge as he presses his tongue into her mouth.

She whimpers under his intensity, thin arms looping around his neck and with a growl he lifts her, hoisting her high off the ground, delighted as her long legs coil around his torso like a slithering snake.

Grabbing the base of her neck in a move that screams domination, he kisses her deeper, leaving no space unexplored his tongue lapping at every inch of her mouth.

She writhes in his hold, elegant fingers scratching at the nape of his neck as she grinds into the burgeoning erection digging into her skin. Shifting her in his arms, he positions himself perfectly against her blistering heat and fucks into her, cursing all the layers that hinder their joyous converging.

Striding over to the forsaken bike, he leans over, depositing her on the saturated ground, she claws at him fighting to stay in his arms.

"Stop. Behave." He commands, watching the lust unfurl in her dark orbs as she stills at his words. Fingers twitching but submitting to his order.

Power surges through his vein as he slams into her, pushing her into the ice cold metal of the bike. Her back collides with the handle bars and her corresponding gasp of pain permits easy access to her mouth that he happily takes advantage of.

Her fingers dig viciously into the hard muscle of his abdomen, leaving harsh welts in their leave, he grabs her long braided ponytail tugging hard in retaliation, plunging deeper as her mouth opens wider from the pain. The rain pools in their mouth, their kisses a sloppy wet mess as they swallow the liquids filling their orifices.

Take her. Own her. Fuck her, now.

Those insidious thoughts compel him to break the battle between their mouths and spin her around, forcing her to arch over the handle bar, as he sidesweeps her legs open further.

"Moon Gang-tae!" He chuckles at the tinge of fear he hears in her voice, his fearless prickly flower, a thorny rose unafraid of being plucked, now quivering under his touch.

He leans unimaginably close, nose pressed against the wet skin of her nape, nostrils loaded with the scent of her hair, fresh magnolias infiltrate his senses and he breaths in deep. Gently he runs his nose along her skin, aimlessly until he reaches her cheek, its blistering red heat penetrating his cold.

"You talk too much."

With that indicative statement, he is a slow languid movement, bending until he's level with her uplifted ass, swatting at it and smirking at her indignant welp before catching the soaked cloth and whipping it out of the way, baring her round ass encased in thick high waisted panties.

The dark material has been teasing him all evening ever since he picked her up, and wrapped her in his jacket, enraged at the thought of anyone else seeing her this way; this sinful view for his eyes only.

Without a moment's notice, he peels the rain drenched material off her, momentarily struggling before victoriously sliding it down her luscious legs.

The torrential rain pours down in a massive sheet of ice water and the roads are lifeless and empty, all other living creatures venturing inside to hide warmth and comfort. He finds his own slice of heaven as he pushes a long digit into her dripping wet pussy.

"Ahh mmm ah!"

She cries out at the sudden invasion, drawing away from his fingers, walls tightening around his finger in contrary with her movement.

Plunging deeper he chases her, mesmerized by the visage of his fingers sinking into her center, inch by inch he digs deeper until he bottoms out, her folds unfurled and stretched around him.

Her scent is intoxicating and he compulsively lunges in face first, tongue following the trail forged by his finger. Licking at her petals, tonguing deep inside her flower, her nectar heady and thick on his taste buds.

Now she is a woman unleashed, heaving chest laid across the shaking handle bars of Alberto, as she uses it to support her hard thrusts back onto his hungry mouth, rippling on this tongue, unabashedly riding his face.

"Gang-tae, Gang-tae ah!" The honorific squeaks past her lips as he rams a second finger into her center and his patience wears thin, the heat around his finger swelling his cock up in anticipation. Ripping away from her he grips his own pants, heavy from moisture but with deft fingers he tugs them down his legs, hissing as the rain prickles at the stringent length dangling between his legs.

When he opens his tightly clenched eyes it's to an obscenely sinful sight.

Mun-yeong on her knees, gazing up at him from under hooded eyes those lashes sparkling as they catch raindrops. Her eyes are unwavering as she salivates, his cock the only thing in her line of vision.

"Do you want it?" He asks her darkly, already sliding his hand in to extract the heavy meat, it bobs out thick liquid pooling at the head. The rain does nothing to soothe or abide the heat emitting from him.

Like throwing a cup of water on a forest fire.

Forgoing a verbal reply, she peers up at him, mouth falling open in a clear invitation.

But he's adamant, "If you want it, I need to hear you."

Her eyes narrow but her tongue runs across the surface of her mouth and he has no doubts of her answer.

"I want it."

That's all he needs to hear as he thrusts into her waiting mouth, groaning at the wet tight soft fuck that surrounds him immediately. When her tongue curls around the mushroom head, he growls sporadically grabbing her hair for leverage as he fucks deeper.

Fuck. Fuck. Oh. Fuck.

She takes all he has to give and demands more, hands groping at his hanging testicles, pulled tight and vulnerable in her hands. She slurps around him, her face a mess from his juices and the rain.

She's the fucking prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

He pulls free from her heat with a gurgling sound, filthy in his ears, as spit dribbles from her chin, she stares at him unashamed as she licks it all up, very last drop.

He smears his cock across her mouth, slipping against her cheek and gasping when she closes her eyes and leans into his dirty motion, letting him paint her face like an erotic paintbrush.

"Fuck me."

His eyes latch onto her eyes, they are screaming at him to obey.

"Please."

Brutally yanking her from the ground, he forces her back onto the bike, spread across the bars, her body limp and complacent.

Collecting the fabric of her dress, he pulls it up until it's a wad around her waist, the sight of her naked ass and her puffy lips peeking from underneath is the only incentive needed to send him plunging into her.

Her ear-piercing cry is lost in the howl of the wind and the boom of thunder off in the distance.

Slamming into her hard and fast, he loses himself in the sensation, tightening his hold on her waist to pull her back punishingly into his cock, he slams in over and over and over and over. Stamina never faltering as her tight grip invigorates him, he feels alive.

But it isn't deep enough, close enough, just-enough.

Pulling free, he ignores her shocked gasp spinning her around, before hoisting her up once more, front to front, her back curved over the bike and her legs wrapped around his waist.

Her arms reach around his neck too, the drunk desire he sees on her face as she sways in his embrace drives him to ram back into her. Their hips meet at the powerful blow, his cock piercing through her soft wet flesh ripping her apart and forcing her to mold around him, becoming something new, something exclusively his.

He wraps his muscled arms around her, smothering her as he thrusts up into her heat, her small body bouncing in his arms powerless under his barrage.

It becomes near impossible to move as her walls close in, constricting around him and he feels his release clawing at his belly, screaming impatiently as he thrusts harder, faster, longer, deeper.

And he feels it, it's so close, she's shaking apart violently in his arms, his name a sermon on her lips.

"Moon Gang-tae, Moon Gang-tae ah, Moon Gang--"

The world begins to fade around him, the rain evaporates, the motorcycle gone in a puff of smoke, he clings to her his heart racing but it's futile as she too fades to nothing.

He tries to hold on to the apparition but it's gone in a flash.

His vision blurs as he blinks awake, disoriented as he takes in his new location, before his breath is snatched from his lungs, a new heat curls around him, obliterating his dream which pales in comparison to reality. The reality of those dark eyes pinning him down as she slides down his length and strips him apart.

All he can do is hold on for the ride.

Maybe this is why they say be careful what you ask for.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XVII. Sweet Creature

A/N: Just a little something on Harry’s POV. Hope you like it :)

Every other part can be found here

HARRY’S POV

I still don’t understand a word but I read listening to music in the language you’re learning helps a lot with pronunciation even if you don’t really understand what they’re saying.

“¿Quieres ser mi cita para la boda de mi hermana?” (Would you be my date to my sister’s wedding?)

I take the minutes it takes Blue to come out from her friends’ apartment to keep on practicing my terrible Spanish. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be, at least the pronunciation, because I am done with verbs. I just won’t conjugate verbs and talk on infinitives. I think they will understand me if I say “querer en pasado” (want in the past tense).

She walks the distance that separates my car from her friends’ apartment with a smile that only gets bigger when she gets inside the car.

“You got a haircut!” She notices.

“Yes.”

A week before the weeding, safe and smart. I remember my cousin Alfred who cut his hair on his wedding day. Gemma almost had a heart attack when she saw him waiting down the aisle with his hair freshly cut and then I learnt, I was fifteen years old then, that I should never surprise my sister with a haircut on her wedding day.

“It looks spectacular.”

I tilt my neck on the red light so I can look at her and make sure this is indeed Blue.

“Was that a compliment?” I grin.

I love teasing her. She looks away from me but I catch her rolling her eyes before she shakes her head. She’s smirking too.

“God knows you don’t need me to boost your ego.”

I grin.

“I’m happy you like it, baby.”

“Yeah, you didn’t cut it too much so I can still pull from it and you look fucking hot.”

I frown amused at my naughty girl’s comments but instead of telling her, I roll down my window and pretend to talk to the driver on my side.

“Excuse me, sir, I think some sex depraved woman possessed my girlfriend.”

“Harry!”

She swats my arm and I roll the window back up laughing.

“Stop it!”

“Where is all this cordiality coming from? Is there anything you wanna tell me? Were you a bad girl?” I tease her.

I pull over in front of my building and look at her. Her cheeks have tinged pink but she’s challenging me, her head is held high and her lips are pursed.

“Nah” I smile “you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

She finally smiles so I go on with the teasing.

“Even though” I lean over the gear and she leans in closer too “good girls don’t get as soaked as you do when they’re touched.”

She smiles taking the air out of my lungs before she leans in even closer until her lips brush against mine.

“Good girls are the worst.” She whispers against my mouth.

“Fuck.” I chuckle.

She won again and she knows it because she’s laughing triumphally as she opens the door of my car and gets out. She’s waiting for me by the path that goes up to the door of my building when I circle my car and get to her.

Her fingers intertwine with mine as I lean down to press my lips against her.

“How was your day?”

“Good.” I tell her.

“Guay.”

I give her a look.

“That means cool in Spanish.”

“Why.” I repeat

She laughs but it literally sounded the same so I just grin.

“Podemos hablar un poco español, si quieres.” (We can speak a little Spanish, if you will.)

“Eh…” I can do this. I’ve been studying for like three months now. “Tú puedes hablar español y yo entiendo.” (You can speak Spanish and I understand.)

Her eyes open wide as she tilts her neck to look at me and I grin proudly.

“Pero, ¡bueno!” (An expression of surprise like “wait, what?”)

I raise my eyebrows and grin at her showing off but she just giggles. I press the bottom of my floor on the elevator and clear my throat. Her eyes don’t leave me.

“Pero venga, ¡dime algo!” (But come on, say something!)

“Eh… Pen-sé? (I thought) Is that how you say it?”

She nods excitedly so I ignore the embarrassment and go on so long as she’s gonna look this cheerful.

“Pensé que esta noche podemos? Pudimos?”  (I thought tonight we can? (gets is wrong))

“Podríamos.” (We could)

“Podríamos?”

“Me encanta como pronuncias la r.” (I love how you pronounce the r). She covers her mouth with her hand as if I couldn’t see her pursed lips smiling.

“Pensé que esta noche podríamos ir a un restaurante. Es una cita.” (I thought tonight we could go to a restaurant. It’s a date.)

“Me encantaría.” (I would love to.)

“Thank God.” I grab the collar of my sweater and pretend to be heated up in effort and she just laughs.

“Vaya, ¡estoy muy impresionada! I am very impressed.” She translates and I smile. “Y orgullosa. And proud.”

She walks with me to my apartment and rests her back against the wall as she waits for me to open the door. Now it’s me who can’t take my eyes off her but I have just never had someone around to get home with me after a day at work, someone who knows where I live and what I have for breakfast, who probably knows my favourite song and what piece of cake I would choose at a cafeteria and I like that.

“I need a shower first.” I tell her.

“Guay.” She smiles.

We walk inside my apartment and she drops her pink coat on the back of the couch. Then I can see what she’s wearing, one of her sexy skirts, also pink, and a white turtleneck sweater tucked under the hem. I smile as I stare at her because damn.

“Do you want to shower with me?”

She turns around and lets me see her biting her bottom lip.

“But I don’t have any makeup here.”

“You don’t need makeup.” I shrug.

She rolls her eyes but smiles.

“I don’t have any clean underwear either.”

I shrug and walk inside my room so I can leave my coat on the bed before getting in the bathroom.

“You could go comando or borrow one of my boxers… But suit yourself, love.”

I unbutton my shirt as I hear her sitting down on the couch and try not to take her rejection to heart. I don’t think the makeup thing is real because I’ve seen her without makeup at the hospital plenty of times before but the underwear thing is a really good excuse.

“You should bring some shit here” I shout out to her from my room “like an overnight bag and just leave here some underwear, pyjamas… Even makeup if you want.”

She’s standing near the dresser smiling at me when I look up. Her eyes roam my naked body as she bites her bottom lip. Fuck, I want her. I want her all the time.

“I will when you ask me in Spanish.”

I roll my eyes and turn to make my way to the bathroom and she gasps.

“So you’re not going to undress me?”

I grin as I turn around to catch her. She’s laughing when I reach her and unzip her skirt that falls around her ankles. She steps on her heels and kicks her shoes off and I undress her. She steps out of her underwear and I leave her pink lace knickers and bra on the mattress so she can put them back on when we’re done and we both get in the shower.

I let the warm water run over both our bodies and surprisingly manage to behave myself. I just stare at her and enjoy her closeness and her nudity not only because it’s a sight for sore eyes but also because it means she trusts me.

I lather her skin up, every inch of skin on her back and her perfect chest and her legs and then I let her do the same thing for me and enjoy the pressure of her fingers against my skin and muscles as I memorise her freckles.

“You’re very quiet.” She notices. “What’s on your mind?”

“You.” I admit.

I almost laugh at the way her eyes widen.

“As if I could think of anything else when you’re naked at hands reach.”

She giggles and her hands join and press down on the back of my neck to get my mouth closer to hers. I need to ask her to come with me to the wedding but if she wants us to kiss, the rest can wait.

My greedy hands grab her ass and she moans against my mouth before she kisses my chin and then down the side of my neck and I feel my dick getting hard. Her tongue caresses my skin slowly and her hands are on my hip and my chest. I let her take the lead because there’s something new in the way her mouth is on me today. She’s kissing me… Lovingly and I feel my heart fluttering as I get harder and harder for her.

She pecks my collarbone and then my pec once before she pulls away and rinses her hair under the water as if she did nothing to me. She turns her body around so I can’t see her face but her butt brushes against my front and she excuses herself. She’s doing this on purpose.

She pulls away and lifts her arms over her head squeezing the water off her hair and giving me a perfect sight of her perfect breasts and I feel my jaw clenching. She steps out of the shower but in a second of panic I grab her wrist and stop her.

“Where are you going?”

She can’t hide her smile.

“I’m stepping out.” She whispers. “You said you wanted to go out to dinner.”

“It’s early” I pull her to me until her body collides with mine and my left arm wraps around the lower part of her back so she doesn’t slip “plus, you don’t fool me, baby, if you really wanted to step out you would already have and” I catch her earlobe between my teeth “you certainly wouldn’t be rubbing yourself against my cock.”

She giggles and rolls her hips against mine so I can feel her hot and swollen against my erection.

“That’s it, you got it.” I grunt.

One of my hand slides down her back until her ass and the other slips between our bellies until I find her wet, swollen folds and gather some of her wetness before I slip a single finger inside. She extinguishes a moan.

I press circles against her clit with my thumb as I thrust one single finger in and out of her and she gasps against my chest as her fingers cling onto my shoulders. I suck on the soft tanned skin of her neck until she moans and tilts her neck to give me better access and I keep sucking and nibbling on her skin enough to drive her crazy without leaving a mark.

“Oh, Harry, please, I want more.”

I grab her ass and press her further against me and she moans.

“More of what, love?”

“You.” She moans. “I want you.”

“Fuck.”

I hold her up and she wraps her legs around my waist. I grind my hips against her torturing us both without slipping inside as I watch her chest inflate and deflate but an impatient soft moan for her is enough to end it. I enter her slowly and she’s so wet and tight that I can’t remember how we got out of the shower.

She’s all dressed when I hang up the phone. Hampstead called again. She’s on her first year of residence and she’s terrified. I get that and I would have loved to have someone helped me back then too so that’s why I’m helping her out.

On the phone, I’ve decided I’m gonna shave. I’m 27 years old but still have the beard of a teenage boy so I can let it grow for days but I think now it’s the time. Plus, we still have time and maybe in that moment of intimacy when I’m shaving and Blue’s giving me conversation I can ask her quieres ser mi cita para la boda de mi hermana?

She watches me as I get the razor, the foam and the aftershave and her eyes open wide.

“Can I do it?”

I smile. She wants to shave my face? And why is it making me feel all giddy?

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever shaved a man before?”

I’m not a jealous man or at least I think I am not but I feel a knot on the pit of my belly as I wait for her answer.

“No, but I have shaved myself.”

“Wow, you’re on. You must be great. I never realized you have a beard.”

She giggles and rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t mean my face.”

Why did that turn me on? And why does even thinking of having her shaving my face makes me horny too? I place the utensils on the bathroom counter and she joins me there. She slips between me and the counter and grabs the foam tube and reads it before she opens the tap and gathers some water on her hand.

“Wait” She takes off her skirt and tights and my eyes inevitable glue to her bare legs and her lacey knickers. “Just in case I get wet.” She smirks at her own joke and I laugh.

“Here.” She hands me the tube of foam but I shake my head and hold her waist.

“You do it.”

Holding her up, I sit her down on the edge of the sink and part her legs so I can stand between them. She wets her hands with warm water before cupping my cheeks and chin and wetting them too and then she shakes the tube of foam and presses the tap so some blue gel rests on the palm of her hand. The fingers of her other hand gather some and she gently butters it on my jaw and my barely there moustache. She looks focused and so beautiful and I never knew this would be so intimate.

“When I was little” she says as she spreads the cool gel and turns it into foam “I used to sit on the toilet while my dad shaved because he worked so much we barely had any time with him so we would talk to him while he was shaving.” She chuckles softly.

She grabs the razor and runs some water over it before she turns to me again.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” She panics. “I don’t want to cut your face.”

“I’m sure shaving a pussy is a lot more difficult than-”

She swats my chest but chuckles before she sticks her tongue out at me like a little girl and I lean in to capture her lips with mine before she gets started.

“But if you do cut me, you better run.”

I raise my eyebrows at her but she just kisses my temple and carefully runs the razor along my jaw. My hands caress her waist underneath her sweater as she focuses on not cutting me.

“Have you ever been at Bellamond?”

Her hand stops for a fraction of a second and I carefully study her. The muscles of her belly have tensed up under my hands but they relax in no time.

“I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to go? We could have dinner there tonight. I mean it’s just a 25 minutes ride.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She taps on my upper lip with her finger and somehow, even if it’s the first time we are doing this, I take the hint and suck my lips inside my mouth so she can shave around them. I look intently at her because for some reason her shaving me, with her legs opened in only those fucking sexy knickers and her thighs there for me to caress them is driving me insane. When she’s done, she leans in and gives me a kiss and then she wets the corner of a towel and cleans the excess of foam off my face.

Then she squeezes some aftershave on her hand, hums in appreciation of the musky scent making me laugh and caresses my jaw with the soothing lotion.

“Ea” She says in her Spanish accent. “All done.”

I stick my head beside her leaning in closer to the mirror and she tilts her neck so she can see me. I run my hand down my cheeks and my jaw and grin. I hum.

“I might keep you around now that I know you can also shave me.”

I gently slap her thigh before I grab her ass with my other hand and kiss her deeply.

“You’re a great kisser, amazing in bed and shave my face in your underwear…” I say against her lips.

Her hands find my chest as she kisses me back.

“And what do I get if I keep you around?”

I smile as I press one of my hands against her core through the thin fabric of her knickers and my fingers press on her entrance. Fucking hell, she’s wet. I revel in the knowledge that this was turning him on as much as it was working for me and I push her knickers aside as I slip my finger inside her.

I know we just had sex like fifteen minutes ago but I’m crazy about her and judging by how wet she is, I think she feels the same way.

Fuck, I love feeling her all hot and soft and throbbing around my fingers. Better not to talk about my cock.

“Fucking hell, baby, I can’t get enough of you.” I move my fingers in and out of her and her head falls back. “I want you all the time.”

“I want you too.”

One of her hands finds my damp mane of hair and her fingers tangle on my locks before she gently pulls from it whilst her other hand rest on my shoulder and moves down to my chest or up to my neck in soft caresses. I let go of her back for a second so I can lift her sweater up her breasts and she gasps and jumps as she clings onto my shoulder.

“Sorry”

I hold her back and love the way she lays her weight on me. Her tits spill from her bra and they bounce every time I sink my fingers inside her and between that, the way she’s clinging onto me, and the image of my wrist on her sex, I’m afraid I might spill on the towel without even being touched. My sight now is fucking erotic.

I slow down my fingers inside her and she whimpers but I can’t erase my smile. I kiss her, swallowing her moans, as I take my fingers out of her. Her expression turns desperate as she gives me a confused look. She’s desperate, needy and fucking soaked. She wants me. No, she needs me and I don’t get tired of fucking her.

“Let’s take advantage that I’m baby soft now, yeah?”

I go down to my knees and place her thighs over my shoulders pulling from her ass until she’s at the edge of the sink and then I give her a long lick from her dripping entrance to her clit.

“The shaving really did it for you, didn’t it?” I tease her. “You’re dripping.”

“Harry, please…” She moans pulling from my hair and bringing my head to her core.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” I giggle.

I give her long, hungry licks, tasting her fucking delicious fluid and whishing I could do this forever. I would eat her out every day for the rest of my life if she’d let me, this girl is fucking delicious. I suck her clit inside my mouth and drink from her and she moans out loud.

“I love having you like this” I tell her “You don’t stop gushing, baby.”

“Naturally” she moans “it’s that tongue of yours and those lips…”

I look up never stopping my wet assault because she’s never openly said that and it’s driving me insane. Our eyes meet and hers look feline, two dark slots that don’t leave me for a long a I stare at her. The sound of the encounter between my mouth and her sex, the wet kisses, her fluids lubricating the two of us.

She keeps whimpering through parted lips and her fingers pull from my hair. She throbs and vibrates under my tongue and I hold her thighs opened as I keep eating her.

“You’re shaking.” I tell her. “Are you coming?”

“Yes” she moans “Yes, yes”

Her whole body tenses up and her back arches as her nipples peek through her lacey bra. I lick her softly until she calms down and press kisses on the skin of her exposed belly and chest on my way up.

I grin at her but she doesn’t give me much time before she’s crushing her lips against mine. Her hand goes down my torso until she finds the knot of my towel and lets it drop around my ankles. I grin against her mouth but I’m a needy as her and it only becomes worse when her fingers wrap around my cock and she pumps me. I only let her do it a couple of times.

“I want to fuck you.”

She nods and I know better than to ask her to speak right now so I lift her body holding her from her hips and sink her down as I thrust inside her. We both share a relief moan, desperate for one another.

“Oh, Harry…”

Her hips draw the shape of infinity on the air, changing the angle and melting me. Fuck…

“You’re going to drive me crazy” She leans in and claims my mouth.

Her tongue licks mine and then she takes it back again and we start the chase and flight we never end. She’s taken control but I’m completely gone so there’s nothing I can do to stop her. Her hips lift and sink back on mine slowly and when I think I can form a sentence to say something back to her she repeats the killing move and my mind shuts again. All I can think about is her.

A guttural sound scratches my throat as the movement of her hips speeds up. Fuck, she’s going to kill me. My hand slips down our bodies to the point where we are connected and my fingers find her swollen clit. She cries out loud. I rub her clit fast until every muscle in her body tenses up again and she screams. She clenches around me until I cum myself and she rests her forehead on my shoulder, catching her breath.

“Fuck, Blue.”

She giggles as her arms wrap around my waist. I hug her back but my hands keep caressing her. My belly roars and she giggles.

“Let’s go feed the beast.”

She pecks my lips repeatedly before she jumps off the sink and put her tights and skirt back on. I wear jeans and a sweater and hold her hand all the way to my car. I can’t keep my hands to myself.

She sings along the radio on our way to Bellamond and I decide I’ll tell her about the wedding at Tino’s. I haven’t been there in ages but for some reason I’m excited to show her.

She told me a couple of days ago that she was free this weekend when I asked so all I have to do is casually offer her a casual date at a casual wedding considering she has nothing better to do.

I drive down the main road at Bellamond and my childhood memories set some weight on my shoulders. It’s nice to see few things have changed, the post office, the bank, the supermarket, the handmade soaps little shop… Everything is still where it used to be.

I park on the football field parking lot and walk with Blue towards Tino’s.

“¿Dónde vamos?” (Where are we going?)

I got it. I understood that.

“A Tino’s.”

She giggles.

“¿Es un italiano?” (Is that an Italian place?)

“Tino es italiano pero el restaurante no es con pasta y pizza. El hace hamburgers.” (Tino is Italian but the restaurant is not with pasta and pizza. He makes hamburgers.)

“Hamburguesas” she corrects me “and that was pretty good Spanish. No sabía que estabas aprendiendo.” (I didn’t know you were learning.)

I love hearing her speak Spanish. Not only because I think the language is beautiful but also because of how slowly and clear she pronounces everything so that it’s easier for me. I smile and shrug.

“I don’t want to sound pretentious but… ¿Estás aprendiendo español por mí? Is it because of me?”

I can’t believe she’s serious.

“No, it’s for my other Spanish girlfriend.” I joke and we both chuckle at her silliness. “Claro que es por tú.” (Of course, it’s for you.)

“Por ti” she corrects me again. Damn, I suck at this but she can’t stop smiling. “Claro que es por ti. Tú is the subject of the sentence, for example, tú” she points at me “eres adorable, which translates to you are adorable.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

We both laugh again. Tino’s red neon lights surrounds her with a sexy light and I really need to get my head out of the gutter.

“But seriously, it’s so cute that you learn Spanish. It means a lot to me. Gracias.” She pecks my lips.

“De nada.”

I hold the door open for her and she walks inside Tino’s and bites her bottom lip probably waiting for me to say something. The place is just like I remember. Wooden tables with benches and dark blue neon lights on the corners where the walls meet the ceiling. I’m grinning like a kid but somehow that’s how I feel.

“Barbara!” I open my arms for the usual waitress.

Barbara’s Tino’s wife and she’s been working here since it opened. She narrows her eyes at me and looks at me for a few seconds before her expression breaks into a familiar warm smile.

“Harry!” She wrap her arms around me and starts calling her husband.

Tino walks outside the kitchen on her red and white stripped uniform and smiles warmly at me.

“Harry!”

“Hello, Tino!”

The old couple bring back even more memories. My thirteenth birthday plays on my mind, my first date with Cecilia, Gemma’s first heartbreak, Adam’s graduation… I look at Blue whose eyes haven’t yet left me.

“Barbara, Tino, this is Indie.”

“Oh” Barbara gives me a look that says well done and I agree. “Hello, dear.”

“Hello.” Blue smiles at them and Tino shakes her hand.

“Where would you like to sit, love?” Barbara asks us but Blue looks at me.

I shrug.

“Anywhere is fine, really.”

“Maybe over there at the corner so you can have some privacy.”

Blue blushes and I chuckle.

“Sure, thank you.”

Barbara tells us to follow her and I stay behind so I can whisper in Blue’s ear.

“Don’t worry, baby, no one knows what we did before coming here.”

She gives me a death glare and I chuckle.

“You look happy, dear.” Barbara remarks.

“I am.”

“That’s lovely to hear.” Her voice croaks and I have to hold my eyes back from rolling because come on! “What would you like to drink?”

“I’d like a Coke, please.” I look at Blue.

“Me too.” She says. “But mine light.”

“Okay.”

Barbara goes to the bar with the promise of coming back soon and I lean on my chair and look at Blue. It’s strange and funny to see her hear. She looks so out of place with her expensive clothes and her posh girl’s face in such a normal, humble burger place.

“What are you looking at?” She frowns.

“It’s just funny to see you here. You look like you got lost on your way out of some Chanel boutique.”

“Eres tontísimo.” (You’re so silly)

I grin.

“But what is this place?”

“This is the best burger place in the world. I used to come here quite a lot when I lived here.”

“Yeah, it shows. They love you.”

I shrug and raise my eyebrows as if saying I know and she just chuckles and shakes her head.

“Anyway, I already know what I’m getting but you should check the menu.”

“What are you getting?”

“Cheeseburger and chips.”

“Is that your favourite?” She smiles and I should tell her how fucking beautiful she looks but I just nod. “Okay, then I’m getting the same thing. You’re the expert here.” She shrugs.

I tell Barbara our orders when she comes back with our drinks and then gather all the courage I have to ask her.

“So you said you didn’t have plans on Saturday-”

“Now I do. I’m going out with the Golden Girls.”

Her face drops, probably matching mine, and I take a sip of my Coke so I don’t say something spiteful to her. She frowns.

“But you told me you didn’t when I asked you.”

“Because I didn’t when you asked me but then you didn’t make plans either and the girls asked and I said I didn’t have plans so we decided to have a Golden Girls’ day” she shrugs “listen, I can tell them I have to do something.”

But she doesn’t have to do something else. I don’t want for her to feel like she has to be with me.

“No, I would never stand in the way of you and your friends.”

She gives me a little smile but I’m mad, I’ll tell you that much.

“We can do something on Sunday.” She offers.

“No, thanks.”

“Are you serious? So you won’t stand in the way of my friends and me but you will get mad at me if I go out with them on Saturday instead than with you? Why can’t we do whatever it is that you want to do on Sunday?”

“Fine, yeah, you call me when you feel like it, I guess.”

“What?”

“Nothing, Blue.”

“Are you really mad?” She frowns.

I take a deep breath.

“It’s just you said you were free on Saturday and I assumed that-”

“That’s the problem, that you assume. You assume that I’m gonna be for you whenever you want me but I can’t. I can’t be at your disposal 24/7.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? It’s not really your fault, it’s mine because really every time you’ve called me because you wanted me I have been there but now I feel like you just assume that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

“First of all, that’s not true. I am well aware that you have a life where I don’t belong, you make sure I know that; but second of all, even if it were true, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.”

“Well, it is. I… I have friends.”

Wow. I see in her face the moment she realizes what she’s said.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It came out wrong.”

“No, it’s fine. Next time I’ll ask for an appointment or maybe you’d rather we organize a calendar. You see me on Mondays and Wednesdays and have Tuesdays and Thursdays off.”

“You are a jerk.”

“Don’t insult me.”

“You’re getting on my nerves!”

“Do you only speak that way to me?”

“No, I call a jerk everyone who’s acting like one.”

I shake my head. She’s impossible.

“Olivia’s right. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

Her mouth shuts and the hurt in her eyes surprise me. I am mad but I didn’t really mean that, just like Olivia doesn’t mean it when she says that. She said it as a joke.

“Well, why don’t you fuck her instead? I’m sure it’ll work out better for you.”

She looks away from me and crosses her arms across her chest. I know she’s done but I reach my hand out for her forearm and relief floods my entire body when she doesn’t pull away.

“Blue, we’re talking. Don’t shut me out.”

“We’re fighting.” She corrects.

“Why did you say that?”

She looks into my eyes and even though her mouth is shut and her jaw is clenched, I know she’s silently asking me what.

“Why did you say that about Olivia? You’re not actually jealous, are you?”

“God, you’re such a jerk.”

“Stop! You know what? I’m not talking to you if you’re gonna keep insulting me, Blue. I don’t like it when you treat me like this. I feel like… You treat me like an object.”

“I treat you like an object?” She fakes a laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Harry. Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’ll be dramatic if I want to, you bitch.”

She looks at me like a little girl whose ice cream just fell on the floor and I feel terrible but she needs to stop talking to me like that. It’s not right and I won’t have it. Maybe if I do the same she realizes how bad it feels.

“Does it hurt?” I ask her. “Well that’s how I feel when you do it.”

Her lips tremble before her expression hardens.

“You’re the one who treated me like an object. You fucked me just like you did with the rest of girls and then went on with your day as if I was just a doll.”

“When have I done that? I have cared about you from the beginning! Let me remind you that you were the one who kept drawing the line and pushing me away and reminding me every waking moment that it was just sex between us when we both knew it was not just sex. Men have feelings too, you know? I’m not just flesh stuck to a dick.”

She stays quiet. I take her silence as some time to calm myself down too. Like she said, she was getting in my nerves. But I don’t want to fight her yet I’m tired. She’s like a roller-coaster, she’s kissing me one minute and pushing me away the next and I can’t keep up with her.

“Here are your cheeseburgers” Barbara places a plate in front of each one of us and Blue gives her the smile I wish she would give to me. “Harry, darling, how old are you? Tino and I were talking about it and we can’t seem to agree.”

“I’m 27.” I smile.

“Geez! It feels like your thirteenth birthday was yesterday. I’m an old lady now.”

“You’re not, Barbara.” I tell her. “Age is here.” I tap my temple and she giggles as she goes away.

“I don’t think you’re just flesh stuck to your penis.” Blue starts. “And I’m sorry that I insulted you. Ollie and you are right, I don’t know how you put up with me.”

I sigh.

“None of us actually thinks that. You can be difficult but so can I.” I shrug. “So can everyone.”

“No, you’re not.” She breathes. “You’ve been very good to me from the beginning. I just keep being an asshole to you because… Sometimes I get scared… I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for insulting you too. I just wanted for you to experience it but felt bad the second I said it.” She chuckles because she knows I’m being honest. “Well, get ready because I’m going to scare you even more.”

She frowns.

“This whole thing started because I didn’t know how to ask you to be my date to my sister’s wedding.” I confess. “I didn’t want to scare you away but I kept thinking that I almost lost you because I didn’t invite you to my sister’s birthday and it’s like I’ve been given another chance because it’s quite the same situation” I chuckle nervously “it’s my sister, it’s you, it’s the fear of scaring you away holding me back… But if only I had invited you to my sister’s birthday, I wouldn’t have smoked, we wouldn’t have fought… But then I think we probably wouldn’t be as… Close as we are now if that hadn’t happened. I just don’t want to screw up, Blue.”

But she’s smiling. Shit, she’s definitely insane.

“So why do you want me to go to the wedding?”

I frown.

“I mean are you inviting me because you think that’s what you should do or because you think that’s what I want or what your sister wants?”

“I’m inviting you because I want you there.”

“You do?” She smiles.

“Yeah.” I confess.

“And this is next Saturday?” She asks.

I nod.

“So what colour of bowtie would you rather wear?”

[shotgun--rider]

Displacement

A Dean x Reader oneshot 

Y/N gets into a tight spot on a hunt and Dean handles it about as well as you’d expect. 

Word Count: 2660

Warnings: Dean (briefly) being a dick, your average grab bag of monster killing violence, Dean Winchester’s emotional awkwardness special 

A/N: Yeah, quarantine really got me on the Supernatural fic train. Sorry?

Y/N grunted with the effort of shoving a headless vampire corpse away from her, turning as quickly as she could to fend off the one creeping up behind. He snarled, lunging forward, but she was faster, dispatching him in much the same way with a swift swing of her machete. 

Pausing for a heartbeat to take a breath, she surveyed the carnage around the empty space. From the outside, it looked as if the building had once been a factory or a warehouse. Inside, it had been stripped and re-organized by the largest nest of vamps that either Y/N or the Winchesters had ever seen. Across the cracked concrete floor, she could see Sam wrestling two of the creatures at once, blood streaked across him that she could only hope wasn’t his.

Briefly, Y/N contemplated running over to help him, her thoughts cut abruptly short as she was slammed bodily into the nearest wall. She gasped involuntarily, lungs working to take a breath against the force of the impact. The weapon in her blood-slicked hand went flying, and she watched it skitter across the floor, just out of reach. Shit. 

Towering over her, one hand compressing her throat, an intimidatingly large vampire snarled down. Y/N’s vision was already filling with black spots all too rapidly with her airway being crushed, and even if she’d been at full strength, the vamp was built like a brick shithouse. Her weak struggles seemed to have no effect on the larger man. 

Come on, Y/N, she growled at herself. She’d gotten herself out of worse situations before. Mustering all of her remaining strength, she hooked her foot around the back of his knee, yanking roughly and sending both of them crashing to the ground. He let go of her throat instinctively to catch himself on the concrete, and she coughed desperately, her head spinning with the fresh rush of oxygen. 

Quickly, she scrambled forward on hands and knees across the gritty floor, reaching out for the discarded machete. Her fingertips were inches from it when a hand landed roughly on her ankle, dragging her backward with fingernails digging into her skin. A strangled cry escaped her lips, equal parts frustration and fear. A quick glance through the hair falling over her face told her that Sam and Dean were clear on the other side of the warehouse, preoccupied and unaware of her plight. Even if she screamed, they’d never get to her in time. 

Damn it, come on, she snapped internally. She was a fucking hunter and this was not how she was going to die. Meanwhile, the vamp had forcibly flipped her onto her back, snarling at her with a distinctly predatory glint in his eye. Blindly, her hand shot above her head, scrambling around for the feeling of the machete she knew was somewhere nearby. 

Then, everything was happening too fast to process. The vampire lunged forward, pinning Y/N to the ground with his full body weight just as her hand finally, finally closed around the machete’s grip. Adrenaline singing through her veins, her arm swung with the machete just as a separate shout echoed through the empty space. 

Just before her blade reached his neck, the vamp’s head went flying, leaving Y/N pinned to the concrete by the dead weight of a corpse that was rapidly bleeding out all over her chest. 

She looked up to meet Dean’s green gaze, his face scowling with a fury she couldn’t remember ever seeing before. “Seriously?” she huffed, gesturing to the body she was still struggling under. The smile pulling up the corners of her lips died instantly when that fury didn’t fade. 

“Why didn’t you ask for backup?” he practically spat at her, kicking the body to the side with one boot. 

Y/N scrambled up hastily, grimacing at the feeling of warm blood soaking into her clothes. “I was a little busy. Besides,” she glanced at him almost defiantly. “I had it handled.” And she had, in the end. She’d gotten her weapon back, she’d been ready to kill the creature herself. Dean didn’t need to know how much of a battle had ensued earlier. 

He scoffed, turning away from her. “Oh, yeah. That looked handled.” Ignoring her protesting shout, he stomped off, making his way to the entrance of the warehouse.

And they were right back to normal. Y/N sighed, shaking her head and following his retreating figure back toward Sam. Dean was probably the best person she knew, and one of the only people she’d bothered to open up to after losing her sister. Lately, though, he’d pulled away more and more, treating her more like a frustrating child than one of his best friends, and it was killing her a little bit every time. Of course he would get tired of her eventually, she’d figured as much. She just hadn’t ever really thought of what she would do when that actually happened. 

Well, looks like it’s time to figure that out, she thought bitterly. It didn’t really help matters that she’d been a tiny bit in love with him from the first moment they’d literally collided working the same case. Maybe more than a little, but it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Dean didn’t do attachments, and he certainly didn’t go for girls like her. And now, it seemed, he was done with her platonically as well. 

“Whoa, Y/N, are you okay?” Sam’s eyes widened as he took in her bloody appearance, and she offered her best smile to the friendlier Winchester, shaking herself out of thoughts that weren’t important.

“It’s not mine,” she assured him quickly, ignoring the irritated huff as Dean brushed past both of them to load his weapons back into the Impala’s trunk. Not for the first time, she wondered what she’d done to make him hate her so much. 

Sam seemed oblivious to the tension, cheerfully hopping in the backseat and leaving shotgun for Y/N, which was, incidentally, the last place she wanted to be. In her experience, it was always better to just avoid Dean until he got his head on straight, which wasn’t going to happen if she was sitting two feet away from him for the next seven hours. 

Wordlessly, she turned her back on the boys and changed into a spare t-shirt, not wanting to risk further ire by bloodying Baby’s front seat. It was an ill-fitted AC/DC shirt that Dean kept in the trunk for emergencies, but she’d rather wear that than stew in vamp blood all the way back to the bunker. And it wasn’t like that was the first time she’d stolen either of the brothers’ clothes. 

She got in the car reluctantly after that, trying to focus on how much her legs appreciated sitting down as opposed to the grouch in the driver’s seat. She lasted barely a half hour of Dean’s green eyes flicking repeatedly between her and the road before she was reaching out to shut off the radio, resisting the urge to slam her hand on the dash. It wasn’t Baby’s fault that her owner was behaving like an idiot. 

“Okay, what is your problem?” Y/N demanded, wincing as Sam’s eyes startled open in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, Sam.”

Dean huffed a sarcastic laugh, focusing on the empty highway stretched out in front of them. “My problem? It’s not my problem if you keep trying to get yourself killed.”

“You sure seem to think it is,” she shot back. “A vamp tackled me, so what? I would have ganked him just fine if you hadn’t decided to rush in and play hero.”

A muscle shifted in Dean’s jaw, but he didn’t reply. 

“Do you think I can’t take care of myself or something?” she persisted, irritation running through her veins. “Dean, I hunted on my own for years before I ever met the two of you and I was fine.”

“Yeah, doing what? Simple salt and burns?” Dean rolled his eyes. “We deal with more than ghosts, Y/N, and every damn time I turn around you’re covered in blood.”

Simple salt and burns. Dean knew she’d jumped straight into the deep end of hunting from the start, chasing the demons that killed her little sister. There had been no journal, no Bobby, no connections, and everything she knew was learned through some seriously risky trial and error. He was the only one who knew how bad it had been. She forced herself to look out Baby’s window, blinking back the sudden stinging in her eyes. 

“I don’t have time to keep looking after you because you’re too stupid to remember to look over your shoulder.”

A humorless laugh escaped her, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I may as well get out of your hair then, right? Wouldn’t want to take up too much of your precious time,”

“Dean,” Sam started from the backseat, at the same time as Dean finally turned to look at her, guilt flickering on his face. 

“Y/N,” he started, as if trying to figure out how to walk back the argument he’d let go too far. 

“Whatever, Dean,” she cut him off, not willing to hear whatever excuse he was probably going to offer. “No point in staying where I’m not wanted. I was always better on my own, anyway.”

That much was just a blatant lie, but at this point she’d say just about anything to just end the stupid argument. Tears stung at her eyes again, and she glared resolutely out the window at the highway.  

The rest of the ride back to the bunker was painfully silent, broken only by the argument the boys seemed to be having while they waited for Y/N to get out of the gas station bathroom they’d stopped at halfway. Both of them fell immediately silent when she approached, but it made her feel marginally better to see that Sam was also getting growled at. 

It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from breaking down crying in the car, and when they finally arrived back at the bunker, she walked to her bedroom without a word. Behind her, Sam was arguing with Dean again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Y/N locked the bedroom door behind her, but now that she was finally free to cry in peace, the tears wouldn’t come. She was tired, and empty, and she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep until the ache in her chest stopped trying to rip her apart. 

Instead, she pulled the suitcase out from under her bed and started methodically packing. So this was it, then. She was going to leave and no one was going to stop her and she was going to be alone again. It always ended up that way, eventually, and she didn’t understand why it hurt so much more this time. 

The doorknob rattled, and then someone was hammering insistently on the door. Y/N sighed, not even having to ask who was on the other side. “Go away, Dean.” Maybe it was a childish response, but she didn’t think she could take seeing him. Not now. Was it too much to ask of him to let her go quietly? 

“C’mon, Y/N, let me in!” he persisted. 

She said nothing, resolving to ignore him while she stuffed another flannel into her suitcase. She was pretty sure it had originally belonged to one of the brothers, but they wouldn’t miss it. And she had to take something with her. 

The lock clicked behind her, and suddenly Dean swung the door open, a familiar set of tools in his hand. 

Her mouth hung open. “Did you just break into my bedroom?”

He had the grace to look sheepish. “Maybe?”

“Dean, what the fuck,” Y/N sighed out, having absolutely no other response to give. She turned back toward her closet, her fingers itching for something to do. 

“You’re really gonna leave?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, pushing down a wave of emotion. “It doesn’t matter, Dean. Just forget it,” she went on, trying to get ahead of whatever half-assed apology Sam had probably forced him in here with. 

He crossed his arms and then his ankles, leaning back on the wall opposite her as he helplessly watched her pack up her life with them. “You’re not...unwanted,” he said awkwardly after a pause. “I didn’t mean any of it, Y/N, I shouldn’t have said--”

“So why did you?” she cut him off. That was the part she still didn’t understand, what had prompted this whole mess to begin with. “Why the hell do you hate me so much?”

His eyes widened almost comically, and in another situation, she might have laughed. “Damn it, Y/N, I don’t hate you.”

“So what, then?” She went back to rolling up a pair of her ripped jeans, stuffing them into a corner of the suitcase. 

He didn’t reply at first, and she waited. Knowing him as she did, she knew that a conversation like this was probably the last thing he wanted to be doing. 

“You scared the shit out of me, okay?” Dean burst out finally, staring at her with a haunted look in his green eyes. “I thought I was gonna have to watch you die, and I still don’t know how to tell you--” he trailed off, looking unbelievably uncomfortable. 

Y/N’s nose wrinkled up. “Tell me what?” She had never considered herself a particularly intimidating person outside of killing monsters, especially not to someone like Dean. 

“That I l-love you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest like the little traitorous worm that it was, but she knew he didn’t mean it like that. Still, that didn’t explain why he was saying it to her now. She cocked her head at him, her eyes tracing over the constellations of freckles on his face. “Yeah, I love you guys too, you know that.”

Dean huffed, looking somewhere between nervous and amused. “No, Y/N, I--” he ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry for being such an ass, Y/N, I--” he stopped again. 

“Dean,” she cut in gently, trying to remind herself that she was still mad. “Just spit it out,” This was officially the weirdest conversation she’d ever had with the older Winchester, and watching him struggle was kind of painful. 

“Fuck it,” he said suddenly, and then he was off the wall and coming toward her, catching her with one arm around her back as she stumbled over a forgotten shoe in her surprise. 

His other hand came up to tilt her face up to him, lips crashing against hers. For a moment, Y/N’s brain short circuited completely, because Dean was kissing her and none of the day’s events had remotely suggested this as a possible outcome.

She caught up to the situation with a jolt, wrapping her arms around his neck before he could think she was rejecting him, and sank into the kiss, quickly losing the battle against keeping track of everything she was feeling. Her hands gripped the flannel he was wearing and for the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to lose yourself in someone else. Her heart was racing, and all she could think was that after every night and every bar that he took someone else home, every hunt that nearly killed one of them, every fight, he was here, now, with her, and he felt like home. 

She smiled against his lips, her eyes opening to see his green ones sparkling as he pulled back just enough to speak, still holding her against him. “Still leaving?”

She smacked the back of his head lightly, smiling back. “Call me stupid again and I’ll kick your ass, Winchester,” she warned, trying and failing to summon a glare. 

“I think I can live with that,” he whispered back against her lips.