#I just . am very attached to this little resistance movement I’m building in my head.

[theclaravoyant]

heaven probably approves of like . water torture right . because it’s holy water , it’s not like it’s actually going to hurt the angels . but somehow they always come back from it Re Educated and a lot better at biting their tongues

[fanficshiddles]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 4

The day that Kelly had been waiting for finally arrived just over a week later. She was finally recovered enough from the attack, aside from still a few bruises and superficial cuts.

Stark felt bad for not leaving protection with her on the jet. She kept telling him it was ok. Loki kept telling him he told him so and he was foolish for putting her in danger. Which wasn’t doing Loki any favours in getting in the Avengers good books.

Kelly so wanted to tell Maria that she had a date. But she needed to keep quiet, not wanting to upset Loki. He had asked her not to tell anyone, so she wasn’t going to break her promise to him.

So she got ready on her own, after making an excuse to the others that she was feeling a bit iffy so wanted an early night. Once she was dressed and had her hair and make-up sorted, she sneaked out of her room and made her way down to the back entrance to meet Loki.

He was already there waiting for her. Her heart beat quickened when she saw him. He was so handsome, wearing a suit, black trousers and jacket with a white shirt and a black tie. It wasn’t often he wore mortal clothes but when he did, it was always with such style.

Loki’s smile grew larger as he looked Kelly up and down. She was deliberately wearing a green dress underneath her leather jacket. Her pulse quickened at the look in Loki’s eyes as she approached him.

‘Why, you look absolutely ravishing, my dear.’ Loki purred and picked up her hand to kiss the back of it politely, making her blush.

‘Thank you. You look really handsome.’ She said shyly.

‘Thank you, pet. Had to look my best for you.’ He winked at her, then he offered her his arm and she accepted, slipping her hand around his arm he led her out of the building to an awaiting taxi.

On the drive to the restaurant Loki had picked, casual chat had Kelly at much more ease and she actually forgot she was on a date with the God of lies and mischief, an ex-villain. She felt so relaxed and comfortable around him.

Loki hopped out of the taxi first and rushed round the car to open her door for her when they arrived. He helped her out too, then slipped his arm around her and they headed inside. He’d booked a nice table by the window at the back, looking out to a nice garden.

‘This is so lovely. Thank you, Loki.’ Kelly smiled as she sat down, Loki of course tucked her chair in for her after helping her with her jacket.

‘I only wish I had asked you out sooner.’ Loki said sheepishly.

They got some wine over to the table, then ordered their food. Kelly just hoped she would actually be able to eat something, she felt so nervous and excited, her stomach was all over the place. But the wine did help to settle her a bit.

‘I must ask, are you wearing my colours on purpose or is it a happy coincidence?’ Loki asked, smirking.

Kelly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Uhm… I… on purpose.’ She said shyly, downing a big gulp of wine.

Loki chuckled. ‘Well, I am honoured.’

Loki asked about Kelly’s life, about her upbringing. He shared a little of himself too, about growing up on Asgard with Thor. She was glad he was opening up to her.

‘Did you tell anyone about our date?’ Loki asked in the middle of their meal.

‘No, I didn’t. I wanted to tell Maria, but I kept quiet.’ Kelly said honestly.

Loki nodded and looked at her warmly. ‘Good girl. It’s for the best.’

Kelly’s face went bright red as she suddenly became very flustered. She quickly reached for her wine and took a few sips to try and hide her face. Loki was a little confused at first, but then it clicked.

Good girl… She had a praise kink? He was sure of it.

Grinning slightly while he kept on eating, not wanting to make a big deal of it and spook her, he noted that information away in his mind. That could come in very handy indeed.

Luckily for Kelly, he changed the subject swiftly. Saving her from further embarrassment.

‘Have you had many boyfriends?’ Loki asked. She was a lovely woman, for a mortal. He was surprised she didn’t have a boyfriend currently.  

‘I’ve dated a few people over the years, but nothing ever became… official.’ She shrugged after wiping her mouth with her napkin. She had managed to eat more than she thought she would, luckily.

‘I’m surprised no one has snatched you up yet. You’re a wonderful woman, Kelly.’ Loki said, making her smile giddily.

‘I just… I get attached quite easily. I uhm, I learned my lesson from the first guy I dated four years ago. He hurt me pretty bad, so I am trying not to fall so hard so quickly. It’s made me a little more guarded.’

Loki nodded in understanding. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Love and trust are such fragile things, not something to be taken for granted. I know it has to be earned. Hopefully, I can prove that I might be worthy of at least your time, perhaps more.’

Kelly’s heart melted completely at his words.

He was such a sweet talker. His silver tongue one of his best abilities and one he was always very much thankful for. One that couldn’t be taken away from him.

They didn’t leave straight after finishing their meal. They had a few more glasses of wine first, Kelly was happily tipsy. Loki barely even felt tipsy, mortal alcohol didn’t affect him in the same way. He would need to drink a few bottles of wine before even feeling slightly tipsy.

After the meal when they were ready to leave, there was a car waiting outside to take them home. Loki opened the door for Kelly and helped her in, then he sat in the middle seat so he could be right next to her, their thighs pressed together, making her blush.

Loki turned more towards her on the drive home and he stroked her cheek softly with the back of his hand. ‘You are so beautiful.’ He hummed.

Kelly smiled shyly as he slid his hand down and gently held her chin.

He licked his lips a little as he leaned in, but he paused a moment and looked deep into her eyes. ‘May I kiss you, darling?’ He asked so sweetly.

Kelly felt her heart swelling that he was so sweetly asking permission just to kiss her.

‘Of course! I mean, yes… yes.’ She blushed hard, trying not to seem too over eager. But Loki didn’t seem to mind as he grinned and closed the distance to plant his lips upon hers, his hand slid round to the back of her head to hold her closely. Not that she would want to move away from him, anyway.

She felt like time had stopped as he kissed her gently, his lips were so soft and cool against her. He moved them slowly, moulding with hers. Her entire world was turned upside down, she had dreamed of kissing him for so long now, she never thought it would actually happen. But now it was, it was even better than she had imagined.

Kelly could only hope it was the start of many.

-

Later that night, Loki decided to pay her another visit in the middle of the night.

She was sound asleep when he manifested in her room. He was silent as he slowly walked towards her sleeping form in bed. It was quite warm so she had the blanket thrown off her, wearing nothing but a night gown and knickers.

He smirked as he reached the side of her bed. He leaned over her and pressed his palm to her forehead, seeping into her dreams. It was easy, considering Loki was already someone she dreamt and thought about a lot. He wasn’t surprised to find some rather naughty dreams and fantasies about him in her mind.

Using that to his advantage, he manipulated her mind. Making sure she would remain asleep, but also so he could have some form of control over her dreams.

She parted her lips and whispered out his name. That’s when he moved his hand down underneath her night gown and he stroked softly over her abdomen before moving downwards into her knickers. She squirmed a little in her sleep, whimpering softly when his large hand just cupped her at first.

Loki kept his movements steady and careful. He knew his powers weren’t as strong as they should be, so he didn’t want to make a mistake.

Going slow, he slid his fingers through her folds and had to bite back a growl when he discovered she was already getting aroused. Using that to his advantage, he trailed some wetness up over her clit and rubbed it in circles. She started moaning more in her sleep, calling out his name again too.

This is far too easy. Loki thought with a wicked grin as he used his thumb on her clit and began inserting a single finger into her. But he was met with quite a bit of resistance at first, until he managed to ease his way into her with more stimulation on her clit.

‘How interesting.’ He whispered, his cock hardening in his trousers at the realisation she was still a virgin. She was so impossibly tight, even around his slender finger.

She squirmed a little, frowning. ‘No, please… feels weird.’ She whined.

Loki rubbed her clit firmer, while wiggling his finger inside her. Whilst it felt weird for her, he could feel her clamping around his digit in arousal. But her movements were becoming a bit more insistent.

Then her eyes suddenly flew open, but Loki had been able to vanish just a mere second before that. He cursed himself for not being able to hold his powers better, he really needed to get them back properly.

Kelly was breathing hard and a bit sweaty as she turned her light on. She had been so sure that someone, Loki, had actually been there and was touching her. But there was no sign of him at all. And her door was locked, so she knew it couldn’t have been him.

‘That was some vivid dream.’ She muttered to herself and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand.

Even though she felt aroused and uncomfortable between her thighs, she kept telling herself she had just dreamt it. Though it took her heart a while to stop racing.

[one-boring-person]

Could I request a first kiss scenerio with Austin/t-000

I hope you like this!😊💛

I Now Understand Why.

Austin/T-1000 x reader

Warnings: mention of sex, sexual themes implied

Masterlist

Nights like this don't come often in this particular household. Nights where the house itself is quiet and calm, very little activity taking place, the only inhabitants for the night simply enjoying this peace together for once.  It's relaxing, being able to sit in the living room without Sarah or John coming in to tell me they need help with something, or without Bob and Austin having one of their near-hostile conversations about subjects the humans of the house will never hope to understand, the idle nature of this time prompting a lazy smile to play across my features as I sit back on the sofa and gaze at the television.

A James Bond movie plays on the screen, the action flick being the only thing vaguely watchable for the night, in my opinion, anyway - Austin had no real input, by his own choice. The terminator had simply told me he wanted to partake in what his files tell him is a normal "human activity", and so had let me choose what we watch. His eyes remain locked on the screen, body rigid, posture not quite natural, his figure looking for all intents and purposes as if he's in shock, his perpetual scowl not helping his case. 

John, Sarah and Bob had all rushed out a few hours ago, leaving Austin and I together for a few days, none of them feeling the need to tell is why they had to leave, though it means little to me; I'd much rather stay at home and relax than chase some lead on a possible branch of Cyberdyne. Naturally, Sarah and John still don't trust the T-1000, and so left him in my care, much to my chagrin, knowing that my relationship with the terminator has become closer than I would like. Even now, as he remains seated across from me, I can't help my eyes wandering over him every now and then, finding the lithe build of his body, as well as the sharp cast of his features attractive after so long of being stuck with him. He and I have grown close, finding solace in each other's preference for quiet study and relaxation, the terminator speaking more openly to me than the others.

"Is something wrong?" The smooth voice suddenly interrupts my train of thought, snapping me back to reality with a jolt.

Blinking, I blush and look away, not sure when he noticed my gaze but embarrassed as hell that did, despite the inevitability of it. Thankfully, another thing I'd noticed about his programming is his slight naivety concerning romance and human emotion in that sense, meaning I'm able to explain myself much more easily.

"Huh? Oh, no, nothing's wrong. Why?" I stammer, scratching lightly at my arm, a nervous habit I picked up somewhere along the way.

"You have made visual contact with me exactly four times in the elapsed five minutes since I first noticed. Generally, this indicates that there is a problem." He informs me, blue eyes fixed on me as I internally cringe, flushing deeper.

"Have I? I hadn't noticed." I laugh off, a little shakily, "Nothing is wrong."

Austin doesn't reply, regarding me for a further minute or so, before he looks back at the television, right in time for the usual sex scene to come on. My cheeks go hot as I watch with him, my thoughts swiftly turning inappropriate, much to my dismay, somehow unable to stop myself from thinking things I shouldn't. Unconsciously, I clench my jaw, adjusting myself in my seat.

"What is the reason for that action?" Austin suddenly speaks up again, pointing at Bond and whichever girl he's with this time as they kiss, the camera panning in for a close-up.

"What, kissing?" I frown, glancing over at him - I know his files are limited concerning romantic actions, but surely he knows what kissing is?!

"The name of this activity is unknown to me. I am referring to their lips joining. Like that." He points again, eyes fixed on the two characters making out.

"Er, yeah, that's called kissing." I chuckle, watching him closely, "People do it when they love each other, or if they want to show their affection for someone. Most people do it in a romantic relationship, though it can also be used to show a romantic interest if they are not already together."

The terminator nods, taking in all the information I give him, a ripple going over him as he processes the data in whatever database he has, his eyes flicking over to meet with mine. After a moment, he cocks his head, apparently following a thread of data.

Suddenly, he stands and sits closer to me on the sofa, body twisted awkwardly to face me, despite the fact he could easily morph himself to fit more comfortably. Confused, I lift an eyebrow and watch him, unsure of where this is going.

"I require a demonstration to properly retain the information." He states, though he doesn't sound sure of himself, as if that isn't the only reason he's requesting this.

I'm too shocked to process it properly, my eyes widening, my mouth falling open as my pulse jumps, a sharp spark of excitement flaring up in me.

"A...demonstration?" Is all I can manage, my hand moving back to scratch my arm again.

"Affirmative. I request your consent for this." 

Austin continues to stare at me, observing my reaction as I struggle to formulate an appropriate response. My body is screaming at me to agree, but my mind is telling me I shouldn't, because I'll just get too attached. It takes me a moment, but eventually I just give in, unable to resist the slight terminator.

"You have it." I reply, somewhat unsure of what's going to happen until he nods and lifts a hand to cup my face.

His skin is somewhat cool against mine, his fingers splaying over my cheek as he uses his tactile sensors to collect what I can only assume is positive input from the touch as he leans in, eyes remaining fixed on mine. Mimicking my breathing pattern (unnecessarily), he leans in further, lips inches from mine, brushing against me with each gentle movement, until he carefully closes the gap.

I have to fight the urge to groan in satisfaction, relaxing as he kisses me, our lips moving tentatively at first, trying to find a suitable rhythm as my hands move to clutch at the slightly unnatural-feeling cloth of his shirt, pulling him close. In response, the terminator moves both hands to my hips, pulling me into him as my eyes fall closed, my body relaxing into his curious touch. Moving in sync now, we continue to kiss, his tongue lightly flicking over my lip as he pushes a hand up the back of my shirt, pressing for more sensory input. 

I can only give in to him, moaning as his tongue slips into my mouth, exploring everywhere it can reach, his grip on me tightening slightly, pulling me tighter against his hard body. For a moment longer, we remain there, Austin caressing every inch of my mouth with his tongue whilst his hands roam any available skin until I feel my air finally run out, at which point I go to pull away. 

He pulls back, looking at me curiously, until he seemingly remembers that I have to breathe. Waiting for me, he soothingly runs his hands up my back, regarding me closely as I lean into his touch, enjoying this far too much for my own good. 

"I understand why humans kiss now." He states, a smile pushing at the corner of his lips.

"Y-Yeah?" I pant, a little breathless.

"Affirmative." He confirms, before he leans back in, holding me tightly against him.

[stolen-pen-name23]

hello! how about #8- “You’re looking a little pale.” and/or #15 “I’m fine… just a little dizzy.” with Obi-Wan and Dooku?

Hi Kate!!! Thanks for the prompt!! // from these prompts // prompts now closed!

I have no idea when Dooku actually left the order, so I made it up for my purposes. Obi-Wan is still a padawan here, but he's like 19-20ish.

Read on Ao3 (or below the cut)

Here ya go!

---

The floor of an unfamiliar starship is not the most pleasant place to wake up.

Admittedly, the cold, hard floor of a starship is not the worst place Obi-Wan has ever woken up, but it certainly isn’t the most ideal place to come back into consciousness on.

He blinks, focusing his vision on his surroundings. The space he is in is barren but sleek. He can tell that the ship he has found himself on is a nice ship.

Groaning, he assesses himself for injuries. Aside from some slight motion sickness from laying on the floor of a ship in flight, Obi-Wan is physically unharmed.

He pushes himself to his feet and carefully inches his way down the short corridor. Peering into the cockpit, he can see the side profile of… no. It can’t be.

“You’re awake,” Dooku says plainly without looking at him.

“Master Dooku?” Obi-Wan questions.

“Actually, it’s ‘Count’ now. I’ve had a bit of a title change.”

Yes, that was right. Dooku left the Order a couple years ago when Obi-Wan was still in his early teens. He doesn’t know much about Dooku’s departure other than that it was due to a difference in ideology. Obi-Wan is not sure what that ideology may be. The other Jedi hardly speak of it. Qui-Gon never does.

“What am I doing here?” Obi-Wan asks cautiously.

“No pleasantries for your Grandmaster?”

“I see no reason for them,” Obi-Wan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve only met you a handful of times. Oh, and you kidnapped me.”

“Fine, we’ll skip the salutations then,” Dooku says. “You’re here for a reason that you will see shortly.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. Of course, he isn’t going to get a straight answer.

“How wonderfully vague, though I suppose you are more forthcoming than most kidnappers.”

“I presume you have experience with them then?”

“It cannot be helped that so many people want me,” Obi-Wan smirks.

“A lot of arrogance for a young man who does not know where he is.”

“Call it a character flaw.”

Obi-Wan looks down at his hands.

“You’re wondering why I have not bound you,” Dooku says.

Obi-Wan shrugs his shoulders. “The thought did cross my mind. As I mentioned, this is not exactly my first time getting kidnapped.”

“Why would I have you bound? You are not my prisoner Obi-Wan.”

“Oh really? I do not remember choosing to be here.”

“You will choose to be here.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t care for the certainty in Dooku’s tone.

“If I’m not your prisoner, why did you take my lightsaber?”

“You’re not my prisoner, but I do not need any hotheaded padawans getting any funny ideas before we get where we need to go.”

“And where may that be?” Obi-Wan tries again.

The Force seems to thrum around them and dread pools in Obi-Wan’s stomach.

“A looking glass, of sorts,” Dooku answers.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. This lineage is so weird.

“Must you be so cryptic all the time?” Obi-Wan asks. “Why not just tell me where we are going?”

“I could tell you, or I could let you see for yourself,” Dooku says. With that, the ship slips out of hyperspace and glides towards a green planet.

“Where are we?” Obi-Wan asks again.

Dooku plucks at levers and pushes at buttons, taking his sweet time in answering Obi-Wan’s question. “This planet does not have a name, though there are several places throughout the galaxy that are like it. Rare as they are, they are places of great import for individuals like us.”

“Individuals like us?”

“Force-sensitives.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the way Dooku says the words, like their shared abilities somehow make them the same.

They are not the same.

“So why are we here?”

“You are here to see your destiny.” The statement comes out simple and sure.

Oh, Obi-Wan does not have a good feeling about this at all.

***

The ship lands in an unassuming clearing in an unassuming forest on an unassuming planet.

Dooku makes Obi-Wan get off the ship first, much to his annoyance. It would have been very easy to steal the ship if only Dooku had gone first.

“I advise you stay close,” Dooku says, clearly having already thought about Obi-Wan’s would be escape plans. “This forest is not a place you want to be alone in at night without a communicator. I would hate for you to get lost.”

Obi-Wan looks around and gets the sense that Dooku is right. Obi-Wan has his fair share of survival skills learned through a mixture of experience and traditional Temple-based training, but that does not mean he wants to put them to use.

Dooku takes the lead, but even then, Obi-Wan feels as though he is being watched.

The forest is not as unassuming as Obi-Wan initially believed. His bad feeling intensifies with every step he takes — the Force pulsing through his veins tells him to be careful.

It is not long before the bad feeling turns physical. The longer they walk, the worse Obi-Wan begins to feel. It started as a nagging headache blooming in the back of his skull. Now, he fights dark spots that dance behind his eyes.

“You’re looking a little pale,” Dooku says in a way that is both deeply condescending and somehow still somewhat caring.

Obi-Wan takes a few labored breaths and tries to blink back the dark spots from his vision. He rests a palm on a tree trunk and leans against it. “I’m fine… just a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Obi-Wan whips his head over to Dooku and immediately regrets the fast movement as it sends another wave of nausea through him. “What did you do to me?”

“It is not me. It is your attachment to the light. That is the source of your weakness. Practitioners of the light side don’t do so well in places like this.”

Dooku hands him a canteen and Obi-Wan eyes it warily.

Dooku sighs and rolls his eyes. “Would I have gone to the trouble of taking you all this way just to poison you? Drink.”

Obi-Wan accepts the canteen.

“The light is not my weakness. It is my strength,” Obi-Wan says after a long draught. He hands the canteen back to Dooku.

“Maybe,” Dooku says. “But not here.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep, centering breath and tries to remain calm. Wherever he is, he gets the feeling that he absolutely should not be here. He carries on anyway.

Twigs snap and leaves crunch under his feet until he notices them start to dampen. Solid ground turns soggy the farther they walk. They approach the gaping maw of a cavern, and at its face lies a spring — the source of the mud. Light dances on half of its surface while the other half lingers in the shadow of the cave.

“I presume this is where you are taking me?” Obi-Wan asks, unable to pull his gaze from the spring.

“Very astute,” Dooku says. “Keep going.”

The mud under his feet squelches and sticks, almost as if nature itself protests his movements. Obi-Wan does not want to keep going. Everything inside of him is telling him not to keep going.

Get out of here, Obi-Wan. It’s not safe here, Obi-Wan. It’s dangerous here, Obi-Wan.

The voice in his head telling him to stop almost wins, but his body is weakened by the dark energy that pulses through this place and Dooku is pushing him along. His feet drag and he is brought forth towards the spring.

Dooku kicks the back of his knees and he falls to the ground. His hands sink into the mud.

Now on his knees, Obi-Wan finds himself staring at his own reflection on the surface of the water.

“What is so special about this?” Obi-Wan asks between labored breaths.

“I’ve already told you.”

Obi-Wan looks back at the water and finds himself staring at someone new. No. Not someone new. Himself. Older. But it is undeniably him.

His Padawan brain is gone and a beard covers his face. His brows are set in a harsh look of concern — the same one Qui-Gon makes fun of him for, though there is nothing funny about the scene that begins to play out in front of him now.

A fire. A fury. The Jedi Temple under siege. Scorch marks. The gleam of sabers and the blue bolts of blasters.

Everyone dead or dying.

Everyone except him.

“This is a trick. This can’t be real,” Obi-Wan says, but he cannot tear his eyes away from the water’s reflection.

“Of course it is. Don’t you see?” Dooku implores. “This is your destiny.”

Obi-Wan shivers, the cold of the Dark Side raising gooseflesh across his skin. He can feel his body trying to submit under the pressure of the Dark Side, even as his spirit resists. The pressure builds and his body trembles. He feels as though he is about to pass out and he is sure he would have, were it not for a familiar voice that calls out.

“That’s enough, Dooku,” Qui-Gon says. “Let him go.”

Hope sings in Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Padawan,” Dooku says. “Good of you to join us.”

“Let. Him. Go.” Qui-Gon’s strong voice echoes through the cavern.

“I’m not holding him and he is not my prisoner. He looks into the waters of the Dark Side purely of his own volition.”

Qui-Gon ignites his blade and strides toward Obi-Wan. Dooku ignites his own saber and blocks Qui-Gon’s path.

“Do not interrupt him, Padawan.”

“Do not call me that,” Qui-Gon hisses. “And get out of my way.”

“He needs to finish this on his own.”

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon says. “Don’t look at that. There is nothing for you there.”

“Master?” Obi-Wan squeaks out, sounding more like a scared youngling than the young man that he actually is. “I don’t like it here.”

“I know,” Qui-Gon says. “We can leave. Just look away from the water.”

Obi-Wan wants to look away from the water, but its pull is that of a siren call. Irresistible.

“Master Dooku said my destiny is in here.”

“Master Dooku is a liar. Come with me. Please Padawan, just look away from the water and come with me.”

“You are making a mistake, Qui-Gon.”

“The only mistake I made was taking my eyes off of him. I knew you had changed, but kidnapping? You’ve resulted to kidnapping padawans now?”

“Look at him, he is hardly a youngling anymore. You could make him a knight tomorrow if you knew how to let go. But either way, drastic measures have to be taken to show him the path he should follow.”

“This is not his path,” Qui-Gon says. “He will never join you. He will never join the Dark Side.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon says firmly. “He’ll never join you. Obi-Wan… he’s… he’s different. He’s good. Even your ichor cannot taint his light.”

“Even the most righteous Jedi are tempted by the dark.”

“Not him. Never him.”

Obi-Wan can feel the strength of Qui-Gon’s convictions, his hope, through their bond. He clings to it like a drowning man clings to a rope and with what remains of his strength, he pulls himself from the dark waters that threaten to consume him.

“Master?” Obi-Wan questions weakly.

“You are making a mistake, Obi-Wan,” Dooku says. “Only pain and misery await you if you stay on your current path. You saw it yourself and you shall see it again.”

“The future is in motion,” he says shakily. “Nothing is set in stone.”

“Don’t be naive, Obi-Wan. Remain on your path, and the future you saw remains inevitable.”

Obi-Wan swallows back the lump in his throat. “Regardless, there is no future where I follow you.”

Obi-Wan staggers forward. His fingers grasp for his lightsaber, but he knows he is in no condition to take on Dooku. To his relief and to his surprise, Dooku does not reach for his own saber. He stands to the side and lets Obi-Wan climb back up the hill. He does not look angry, only disappointed. There is not much time for Obi-Wan to ponder this before Dooku shakes his head and turns back, walking out the way they came in.

Qui-Gon watches Dooku leave, never taking his piercing gaze off of his former master until he has blended fully into the shadows. With his disappearance, Qui-Gon darts down the hill towards Obi-Wan. Rocks and loose dirt rolls down the hill with each of Qui-Gon’s heavy steps, but it does not slow him down.

The sight of his Master and the security of knowing he was coming to save him makes some of the fight die down inside of him. He trips over his own feet and falls forward on the slippery hill. Mud and dying leaves stick to his robes and his skin while the smell of decay that accompanies a forest floor fills his nostrils.

He just wants to get out of here.

Though it seems he will not have to wait much longer. Strong hands grab his arms and drag him to his feet. Qui-Gon dusts off his shoulders while giving him a once-over.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Not… not really.”

“That was a yes or no question, Obi-Wan.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says, trying to put more strength behind his words. “He cannot hurt me.”

“Actually, he can, but I’m glad he did not.”

Obi-Wan offers Qui-Gon a weakened smile.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Qui-Gon says, lending Obi-Wan a steadying arm.

Obi-Wan leans on his Master and lets him guide him home.

[imagine-loki]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 4

TITLE: Tear You To Pieces CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was sent to make up for his deeds by helping out The Avengers at the tower. Everyone thinks he’s changed, but he is just biding his time. He manipulates and uses someone who works there, who has a crush on him, to get exactly what he wants.  RATING: M

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: DARK LOKI, RAPE/NON-CON, MANIPULATION, MURDER, VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, KIDNAPPING

  The day that Kelly had been waiting for finally arrived just over a week later. She was finally recovered enough from the attack, aside from still a few bruises and superficial cuts.

Stark felt bad for not leaving protection with her on the jet. She kept telling him it was ok. Loki kept telling him he told him so and he was foolish for putting her in danger. Which wasn’t doing Loki any favours in getting in the Avengers good books.

Kelly so wanted to tell Maria that she had a date. But she needed to keep quiet, not wanting to upset Loki. He had asked her not to tell anyone, so she wasn’t going to break her promise to him.

So she got ready on her own, after making an excuse to the others that she was feeling a bit iffy so wanted an early night. Once she was dressed and had her hair and make-up sorted, she sneaked out of her room and made her way down to the back entrance to meet Loki.

He was already there waiting for her. Her heart beat quickened when she saw him. He was so handsome, wearing a suit, black trousers and jacket with a white shirt and a black tie. It wasn’t often he wore mortal clothes but when he did, it was always with such style.

Loki’s smile grew larger as he looked Kelly up and down. She was deliberately wearing a green dress underneath her leather jacket. Her pulse quickened at the look in Loki’s eyes as she approached him.

‘Why, you look absolutely ravishing, my dear.’ Loki purred and picked up her hand to kiss the back of it politely, making her blush.

‘Thank you. You look really handsome.’ She said shyly.

‘Thank you, pet. Had to look my best for you.’ He winked at her, then he offered her his arm and she accepted, slipping her hand around his arm he led her out of the building to an awaiting taxi.

On the drive to the restaurant Loki had picked, casual chat had Kelly at much more ease and she actually forgot she was on a date with the God of lies and mischief, an ex-villain. She felt so relaxed and comfortable around him.

Loki hopped out of the taxi first and rushed round the car to open her door for her when they arrived. He helped her out too, then slipped his arm around her and they headed inside. He’d booked a nice table by the window at the back, looking out to a nice garden.

‘This is so lovely. Thank you, Loki.’ Kelly smiled as she sat down, Loki of course tucked her chair in for her after helping her with her jacket.

‘I only wish I had asked you out sooner.’ Loki said sheepishly.

They got some wine over to the table, then ordered their food. Kelly just hoped she would actually be able to eat something, she felt so nervous and excited, her stomach was all over the place. But the wine did help to settle her a bit.

‘I must ask, are you wearing my colours on purpose or is it a happy coincidence?’ Loki asked, smirking.

Kelly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Uhm… I… on purpose.’ She said shyly, downing a big gulp of wine.

Loki chuckled. ‘Well, I am honoured.’

Loki asked about Kelly’s life, about her upbringing. He shared a little of himself too, about growing up on Asgard with Thor. She was glad he was opening up to her.

‘Did you tell anyone about our date?’ Loki asked in the middle of their meal.

‘No, I didn’t. I wanted to tell Maria, but I kept quiet.’ Kelly said honestly.

Loki nodded and looked at her warmly. ‘Good girl. It’s for the best.’

Kelly’s face went bright red as she suddenly became very flustered. She quickly reached for her wine and took a few sips to try and hide her face. Loki was a little confused at first, but then it clicked.

Good girl… She had a praise kink? He was sure of it.

Grinning slightly while he kept on eating, not wanting to make a big deal of it and spook her, he noted that information away in his mind. That could come in very handy indeed.

Luckily for Kelly, he changed the subject swiftly. Saving her from further embarrassment.

‘Have you had many boyfriends?’ Loki asked. She was a lovely woman, for a mortal. He was surprised she didn’t have a boyfriend currently.  

‘I’ve dated a few people over the years, but nothing ever became… official.’ She shrugged after wiping her mouth with her napkin. She had managed to eat more than she thought she would, luckily.

‘I’m surprised no one has snatched you up yet. You’re a wonderful woman, Kelly.’ Loki said, making her smile giddily.

‘I just… I get attached quite easily. I uhm, I learned my lesson from the first guy I dated four years ago. He hurt me pretty bad, so I am trying not to fall so hard so quickly. It’s made me a little more guarded.’

Loki nodded in understanding. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Love and trust are such fragile things, not something to be taken for granted. I know it has to be earned. Hopefully, I can prove that I might be worthy of at least your time, perhaps more.’

Kelly’s heart melted completely at his words.

He was such a sweet talker. His silver tongue one of his best abilities and one he was always very much thankful for. One that couldn’t be taken away from him.

They didn’t leave straight after finishing their meal. They had a few more glasses of wine first, Kelly was happily tipsy. Loki barely even felt tipsy, mortal alcohol didn’t affect him in the same way. He would need to drink a few bottles of wine before even feeling slightly tipsy.

After the meal when they were ready to leave, there was a car waiting outside to take them home. Loki opened the door for Kelly and helped her in, then he sat in the middle seat so he could be right next to her, their thighs pressed together, making her blush.

Loki turned more towards her on the drive home and he stroked her cheek softly with the back of his hand. ‘You are so beautiful.’ He hummed.

Kelly smiled shyly as he slid his hand down and gently held her chin.

He licked his lips a little as he leaned in, but he paused a moment and looked deep into her eyes. ‘May I kiss you, darling?’ He asked so sweetly.

Kelly felt her heart swelling that he was so sweetly asking permission just to kiss her.

‘Of course! I mean, yes… yes.’ She blushed hard, trying not to seem too over eager. But Loki didn’t seem to mind as he grinned and closed the distance to plant his lips upon hers, his hand slid round to the back of her head to hold her closely. Not that she would want to move away from him, anyway.

She felt like time had stopped as he kissed her gently, his lips were so soft and cool against her. He moved them slowly, moulding with hers. Her entire world was turned upside down, she had dreamed of kissing him for so long now, she never thought it would actually happen. But now it was, it was even better than she had imagined.

Kelly could only hope it was the start of many.

-

Later that night, Loki decided to pay her another visit in the middle of the night.

She was sound asleep when he manifested in her room. He was silent as he slowly walked towards her sleeping form in bed. It was quite warm so she had the blanket thrown off her, wearing nothing but a night gown and knickers.

He smirked as he reached the side of her bed. He leaned over her and pressed his palm to her forehead, seeping into her dreams. It was easy, considering Loki was already someone she dreamt and thought about a lot. He wasn’t surprised to find some rather naughty dreams and fantasies about him in her mind.

Using that to his advantage, he manipulated her mind. Making sure she would remain asleep, but also so he could have some form of control over her dreams.

She parted her lips and whispered out his name. That’s when he moved his hand down underneath her night gown and he stroked softly over her abdomen before moving downwards into her knickers. She squirmed a little in her sleep, whimpering softly when his large hand just cupped her at first.

Loki kept his movements steady and careful. He knew his powers weren’t as strong as they should be, so he didn’t want to make a mistake.

Going slow, he slid his fingers through her folds and had to bite back a growl when he discovered she was already getting aroused. Using that to his advantage, he trailed some wetness up over her clit and rubbed it in circles. She started moaning more in her sleep, calling out his name again too.

This is far too easy. Loki thought with a wicked grin as he used his thumb on her clit and began inserting a single finger into her. But he was met with quite a bit of resistance at first, until he managed to ease his way into her with more stimulation on her clit.

‘How interesting.’ He whispered, his cock hardening in his trousers at the realisation she was still a virgin. She was so impossibly tight, even around his slender finger.

She squirmed a little, frowning. ‘No, please… feels weird.’ She whined.

Loki rubbed her clit firmer, while wiggling his finger inside her. Whilst it felt weird for her, he could feel her clamping around his digit in arousal. But her movements were becoming a bit more insistent.

Then her eyes suddenly flew open, but Loki had been able to vanish just a mere second before that. He cursed himself for not being able to hold his powers better, he really needed to get them back properly.

Kelly was breathing hard and a bit sweaty as she turned her light on. She had been so sure that someone, Loki, had actually been there and was touching her. But there was no sign of him at all. And her door was locked, so she knew it couldn’t have been him.

‘That was some vivid dream.’ She muttered to herself and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand.

Even though she felt aroused and uncomfortable between her thighs, she kept telling herself she had just dreamt it. Though it took her heart a while to stop racing.

[octalove]

VI: The Dotted Line

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Jason extends an offer. Part one, two, three, four, and five.

Note: someone said Batgirl and Jason mission, and i am but a humble servant of the people. also, i almost named this chapter “Carolyn Crawford”. Hope you like❤️

TW: Decription of sex work (barely), very light gore

Being back at Batman’s side was a peculiar thing these days. Soothing and suffocating all at once; like returning home after a long, liberating trip. It felt easy, and safe. I was reminded of the first time he brought me up to a towering building top. I clung to Nightwing like a life preserver.

Once I found my footing, the building tops were the only place I felt safe. The taller the skyscraper, the higher and farther from the grim city that raised me. I wondered what would happen when I outgrew the skyscrapers, too.

November was settling like an icy blanket over Gotham. My breath wreathed around me as my chest heaved from scaling the office building I was settled on, hoping to catch a glimpse of the gray dawn as 2am turned to 3am. I could see Robin’s breath too, as he crouched like a gargoyle on the balls of his feet. Even when I pushed his arm lightly, he glared, but didn’t move. The kid had incredible balance.

“I was beginning to enjoy your absence.” He muttered.

I smiled at him. “Are you kidding? Patrol is boring without me.”

“Patrol is boring without brainless plebeians to subdue. I can make due without you.”

“So you’re saying you don’t consider me a brainless plebeian?” I replied.

His lip twitched. He liked this game. It was the birthplace of many of his preferred insults.

“Closer to a bumbling fawn.”

“I like that one.”

Damian’s disinterest in all things regarding my thoughts and feelings was a good distraction. I’d been using him for the past week since my latest brush with Red Hood. Well, Jason. It was still hard to wrap my mind around.

I knew him. He knew me. I shouldn’t have been worried; he knew nothing about me. Nothing other than who I was, anyway. I wanted to ignore whatever residual feeling was left from fighting him on the docks, and I really wanted to say I hadn’t thought about the last thing he said to me. But in truth, I’d thought of little else. The large gaps of time between our meetings left time for that.

We were looking for him tonight. More specifically, Batman and Nightwing were. Robin and I were sent to the quiet apartment rows of Crest Hill, watching over nothing in particular. Sent to keep us away from the fray. Even Robin knew it. When Batman said we’d be patrolling here, he looked like he could rip the head off a puppy.

“Movement in Coventry.”

“On it. Thanks, Oracle.”

One of the better quirks of Damian Wayne was that in the case he was spurned by his favored allies (Bruce, Dick), he quickly formed new alliances (me, Tim). Bumbling fawn comment aside, I could tell I was in his good graces tonight by utter happenstance and Batman’s shortcomings. I was nothing if not opportunistic.

“We can get to Coventry before they can.” I said quickly, keeping the nervous excitement in my voice to a minimum. He eyed me cautiously.

“Batman may be trying not to take risks, but we can handle a couple of goons. Besides,” I added. “Red Hood will probably be gone by then. He always is.” I was overselling it; Robin was already standing, eyes roving over the city scape in search of the best route to Coventry. I stood with him, then let the free-fall adrenaline send exciting jolts through my stomach as we grappled toward our destination.

I could see him, in my mind. His face on the docks, bathed with the flame of his lighter. Hear his voice, full of purpose and noble fury as he promised revenge. I understood his cause, but didn’t understand him, and that was the mystery that poisoned my mind and stole my ability to sleep. Not Red Hood. Jason Todd.

*

Robin and I perched over a factory compound on the water’s edge, Sprang River’s lower fork rushing by at the end of the factory court. A handful of men moved like ants in the flooding white lights that lit the exterior. The wind distorted the sounds of their voices. Robin must have had the same thought because he moved soundlessly to a lower roof panel, advancing on the building. I followed. One man began shouting.

“I’m going to the Northern pylon.” Robin whispered. Divide and conquer. I wasn’t going to argue. I kept my eyes on his silhouetted form to ensure he didn’t encounter any resistance on his way, then worked by way around the court, hoping I could get a good idea of the place before he reached his vantage point. The sky was lightening, and we were losing time.

Just as I was about to check the lot on the opposite side of the factory, a metal door swung open, scraping against the metal parapet. Red Hood walked out, accompanied by a man in a factory jumpsuit. I couldn’t make out their conversation.

I crept along the high factory railing as they meandered across the court, deep in conversation. I kept it up for around six minutes before his companion departed, heading for the lot.

“Robin,” I whispered into my comms. “There’s a man heading toward the parking lot. Trail him.”

“I see him.”

With Robin in the Southern parking lot a safe distance away, I watched Red Hood slowly pull away from the lights and people, heading toward the darker exhaust plants East of the court. It became a struggle to keep and eye on him and my footing at the same time, but I did it. He stopped at a motorcycle parked behind an electric turbine about a klick from the factory. The sky was a pale gray now, ever-lightening with the dawn, and the shadows were burning away with it. I lowered by self behind an electrical box attached to one of the turbines.

“We’re en route- wait, Robin-“ The comms rang in my ear.

“I gave you a direct order.” Batman growled.

“It was a stupid order.” Robin clipped.

“Where’s Batgirl?”

Red was about to replace his red helm with a motorcycle helmet, but paused. He seemed to stall for a moment, before calling out.

“Come here, little bird.”

I was more annoyed than anything. I was ready to be a step ahead of him for once. But then, I couldn’t resent him for giving me what I wanted. I stood, and took in his empty hands before approaching. He’d leaned against the metal turbine, arms crossed as he regarded me with an unreadable expression.

“They’re here, you know.” I warned.

“Call ‘em, then. I won’t move. I know I’m good, but I’d be outnumbered. Bad odds.”

I scowled. “I’m not gonna do that.” I said it because he already knew it. We both did. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

“You thought about what I said.”

“Of course I did.”

He glanced around, then pulled himself up straight and moved toward me. I took a few steps back, prompting him to flash me his empty hands, raised in surrender.

“Relax, darlin’.” He said. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t want you to be. I want you to understand.”

“How? How do I understand?” I’d been trying for a month. He pulled a small piece of paper from his jacket pocket, holding it out and letting me take it, keeping a safe, considerate distance. Inside, was a number.

“Come with me. One job. Nice and easy.” He said.

“I’m not killing anyone.” I said sternly, voice dropping.

“I’m not askin’ you to.”

“And I’m not standing by and letting you kill anyone.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Fine. We’ll do it clean.” I didn’t even know if I believed him. But I was tired of trying to understand him from a safe, considerate distance.

“We’re almost at location. Four minutes.” Nightwing’s voice almost made me jump. I lifted my eyes.

“You need to go.”

He was already turning on his heel.

*

It was two days before I texted him. I got a glorious three hours of sleep over the course of them, and I kept running down either respective fork in my road before turning around and running back. In the end, I subsided to the fact that I was raised by two business-women, and Jason’s offer was at worst an opportunity. If it all went to shit, and he tried to kill me, I’d at least have some information to present to Bruce, notwithstanding the lifetime of punishment that would get me.

Our rendezvous point was in Lower Gotham Proper. By the time I got there, it was midnight, and a rolling mist had blown in from the harbor, mixing with the smog that hugged the streets and making it nearly unsafe to drive. I silently hoped Batman and Robin were okay.

As I worked my way down a narrow street, the moisture in the air was choking; causing the fabric of my pants and jacket to cling to my skin. I’d almost prefer rain to the way the mist stood still, forcing me to muddle through it. It was dark. The lights and signs on surrounding buildings didn’t seem to be able to preserve through the fog.

I saw a figure pressed against a building that looked tall enough to be Jason. As I approached, we regarded each other’s forms apprehensively. When he tilted his head, I knew it was him. I drew close.

“Jesus.” I mumbled. “Could you have picked a spookier place?”

“Don’t tell me you scare easy.” He said through a cigarette. His helmet was in his hand, but it could’ve easily been mistaken for a motorcycle helmet. The whole get-up was kind of biker-esque. I didn’t answer. Just glanced around.

“Come on.” He said. “It’s not far.”

As we began walking, it struck me how much more relieved I felt to hear his footsteps alongside my own. I was capable; willing and able to fight just about anyone Gotham could conjure up. But still, walking with him was comforting. Like I had someone to watch my back.

We even eased into a bit of conversation. Small things- things we agreed upon. Rich society, and Gotham’s war on the poor. Politicians we wouldn’t mind going missing. If you had showed me his picture next his crime scenes, I wouldn’t have pinned him.

Jason wasn’t unpleasant; it was just that his disposition was highly aloof and somewhat irritable. He had rich bronze skin, and full lips that I was sure made for a charming smile when he decided to do so (not a grin, a smile). The composition of his face was very sharp and neatly symmetrical, but still held some gaunt exhaustion, revealed by the constant tense of his jaw. His attentive dark eyes were almost always narrowed in some fashion of distaste. He never once looked at peace.

It seemed to me that he was disinterested in most anything having to do with my life, other than that he wanted me with him. His entire being was an oxymoron; a juxtaposition of unexpectedly soft and startlingly sharp and there wasn’t a way to tell which it would be.

Finally, we approached a small, industrial building with a neon sign of red, blue, and green.

The Lion’s Den

Burlesque and Drag

I raised my eyebrows. A bit on the nose if you asked me. If the name didn’t give it away, the posters and marquees adorning the brick exterior did.

“We need to talk to someone here before we go.” Jason said, pulling on his helmet, and unzipping his brown leather jacket to showcase the bat.

“Lead on.” I said, pulling up my own mask.

The music was so loud, I could barely hear myself think. The led lights lining the ceiling were cycling warm colors; red, pink, orange, yellow, the glow burning through the smokescreen that was nearly as thick as the mist outside.

Women were dancing, in lace or topless, spinning on poles and otherwise moving gracefully to the heartbeat of the place. But that wasn’t the main event- a stage lit with marquee lights, the centerpiece of which was a table, where three women sat. Their outfits were something out of Marie Antoinette’s personal wardrobe. And that’s where Red Hood was headed.

We walked up onto the stage, and while it all sort of mingled with the dim neon in the rest of the building, I still felt oddly seen. I placed myself behind Red Hood, inserted between him and one of the women. They appeared to be playing cards.

“Well, well.” Said one of the queens, with blonde hair curled and blown out like something out of the 70’s. Her exaggerated, colorful makeup was a work of art- Picasso, perhaps. “Gonna stick around for the show this time, sugar?”

Red sat down, leaning so that his arm rested along the back of the chair, lights glinting off his helm. His relaxed composure made me nervous- but perhaps it was the lack of information.

“Not this time, Trixy.” He answered.

“Pity,” Said the broad redhead beside me, her voice a low, soothing timber. “You neva’ do.”

“Don’t be rude, Sasha.” The third woman scolded, throwing down an Ace of Spades, to the visible dismay of the others. “He’s a busy man.”

“Who’s your friend?” Trixy asked.

I glanced at Red Hood before answering. “Just a little bird.”

“How delightful. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty, shall we?” Trixy said. “Did Dominique get the message to ya?”

“Refresh my memory.” Red Hood said- for my sake, I’m sure.

“Bout a week ago, a bunch of girls from the Row went missin’. Ain’t unusual,” Trixy said darkly, “Most don’t got no family or nothin’. Just us lookin’ out for ‘em. When we run outta beds here, that’s when they go missin’. But it’s different this time. Buncha girls all at once- including one ‘a the queens.”

“Tiffany Spice.” Sasha said, a solemn look on her face. “She was just comin’ into herself. Lord, I’d be devastated if somethin’ happened.”

“Some a’ the row girls been talkin’ about this real shifty fella- Baron Haus. New guy. Used to pimp out girls from the Narrows.”

“And the girls disappeared when he showed up.” I said quietly.

“Bingo.”

“How many?” Red asked.

“About eight, Tiffany included.”

“And you know where he was working from?” I inquired.

“Sha’ do. China Town. Club there called the Moonlight.”

Red Hood nodded. “Anything else me and my little bird should know?”

Trixy thought for a moment. “Baron’s got some friends in GCPD. Had some uncles in the force, or somethin’ of that nature. He’ll be missed. More dead.” She spit the term bitterly.

“They always are.” He responded, getting up from his chair.

“And Hoodie, sugar!” She called after us. “You’re a doll for this.” He didn’t reply. As we worked our way back toward the front, he spoke quietly.

“I thought it’d be better if you met ‘em yourself. Always makes it more personal.”

Batman never did that.

“Do you always make it personal?” I asked.

“It’s not fun if it isn’t.”

The freezing moisture in the air bit fiercely as we pushed open the metal screen door.

“Right.” I said. “So, the Moonlight. How are we getting there?”

“How do you think?” He said, stopping short of a rusted yellow fire escape on the side of the building. He surveyed it, then looked at me.

“Race ya.”

With surprising speed and grace, he scaled the fire escape, no sound in his wake.

“Oh, it’s on.” I fired, rushing to the bars and climbing like they were monkey bars. He disappeared over the edge of the roof, and as I made my way up, I saw him several years away, already conquering another building. I raced toward him, leaping over exhaust pipes until we were high above the fog. The city below looked like an illuminated ocean, twinkling lights just below a pillowy white surface.

I felt like a child again, overwhelmed, nearly brought to giddiness with excitement. Was this how Bruce felt, scaling rooftops with Catwoman? The small, but sure thrill of consorting with the bad guy- knowing that they were consorting with you in return?

I wasn’t a sidekick. There was no line to fall into. No predecessors, no successors, no beginning and no end. I moved like Batgirl across the shingles and concrete and metal scaffolding, but I was weightless without the Bat legacy on my chest. There was something deeply, shamefully freeing about that.

*

We were greeted differently in the Moonlight; a stark contrast to the warm welcome by the queens in the Lion’s Den. It was set up more like a smoky, refined gentlemen’s club. We drew attention from every walk of life inhabiting the bar- men in suits, women in silk, and slimy looking characters that grated offensively against the debonair theme.

Most leered for a moment, then cast their eyes away, like they’d seen something they shouldn’t have. Maybe you could consider Red Hood one of those such things.

“Mr. Hood!” There came a voice, cutting above the orchestral music- Nessun Dorma, if my musical sensibilities were still honed from my piano lesson days. “Welcome, welcome. I can only hope,” The man gave gritting smile, wound tight with visible anxiety. “That you’re here on peaceful business tonight.” He cast his nervous, monolid eyes to me. He was handsome, no older than thirty and wore a tight black vest. I didn’t let my body language give anything away; frankly, I was as in the dark as he was.

“Oh, you know me, Baron Jun,” Red Hood drawled, slowing to a halt at the bar, and leaning on it. “I don’t decide whether things stay peaceful or not. That depends on you.” I stayed standing, near his back, studying the security. Two lumbering men at the entrance, one behind Baron Jun. I wouldn’t put it past curvaceous bartender in red to have a gun, too.

“Lookin’ for Baron Haus. I heard a little rumor he works outta this quaint establishment now.”

When I’d considered the Red Hood’s contacts before, I pictured something like Batman’s relationship with Commissioner Gordon- figuring he had to have some corrupt cops or lowlife sleuths packing him with all his vast information. I never would have guessed it would be three drag queens playing cards.

A conflict passed over Baron Jun’s face, seconds long. “You… heard correctly. Word does seem to travel fast.”

“I need to pay him a visit. Remind him about some of my rules.” He admonished. It was a dripping warning, like the salivating jaws of an animal, teeth bared and pointed.

Baron Jun swallowed. “I see. Well, he um- he’s not actually here, at the moment. Maybe I can tell him you dropped b-“

“You know, Jun,” Red continued, ignoring him. “I got this really funny feeling you know what rules I’m talkin’ about.”

The look on his face was something to behold. I’d seen fear, briefly, on the faces of criminals before I subdued them and went on my way. But this was different. Fear induced by nothing but a conversation. Call it hive-mind, a power trip perhaps, but I felt this pesky sense of camaraderie that prompted me to take a few steps forward, shoulder to shoulder with Red Hood. Who was this vile little shitstain who made his living off men getting laid to play games with us? I thought about eight women, scared and abused. It was Baron Jun’s fault. Baron Haus’ fault. Everyone in this stupid bar, decorated to the taste of the men who abused them.

Baron Jun’s eyes dashed back and forth. Deny or ask forgiveness? I could see him running down those cross roads.

“He… he’s been running some shit I didn’t know about until last night. I swear I didn’t fuckin’ know.” He broke at last.

“Where are they?” I piped up.

“Who the fuck are-“ He was cut off with a bang and a scream as Red shot his knee. I was startled by the noise, but no one seemed to notice. It rang in my ear.

Give a girl a warning next time.

“Be. Fucking. Polite.” Red snapped, now advancing on the Baron. Only one of the three security guards decided it was worth the risk and stepped forward. Electric with the building energy of the whole night, I bolted forward and swung my fist into his throat. He made a choked noise and stumbled to the ground.

“Answer the question, Jun.” Red continued, this time in a taunting, sing-song tone.

“Oh, fuck,” Jun whimpered, cradling his knee. “Jesus- you- you shot me.”

“Always were a sharp one. I got a couple more bullets, and you’ve got another knee. So why don’t you sing before I get really impatient.”

“Christ.. they- they’re in the back. R-room fourteen.” His breath was labored with pain. I didn’t feel bad. Trusting that Red would handle the front and keep his promise of not killing anyone, I went to the back hallway, counting the doorways before reaching room 14. I made short work of the lock.

Some scuffling noises could be heard from the front room- but no further gunfire. I opened the door to reveal a velvet lounge, with red settees and satin curtains, along with fearful eyes looking back at me. I counted eight heads, including Tiffany Spice, who’d since abandoned his wig and gaudy attire. His make-up was streaked with long-dried tears.

“Tiffany Spice?” I asked, subservient to standard protocol despite my evening of rebellion.

“What’s going on out there?”

“Trixy sent us. You’re safe now.”

“Are the Barons gone?”

“They’re being dealt with.” I answered.

After finding them, the rest fell into place quickly. Red had indulged in some property destruction, and Baron Jun now reckoned with what appeared to be a shattered hand and some extra facial bruising.

I nodded briskly to Red and he, in turn, nodded to the bartender, who ushered the girls around.

Before departure, he knelt down in front of the Baron.

“You’re alive,” He said lowly. “Cause I’m doin’ someone a favor. If someone breaks the rules again,” He reached over and patted Jun’s pained face. “You be a good boy and come right to me. Okay?” Jun didn’t respond, nor take his bloodshot eyes off of his mangled hand, but Red straightened anyway and ushered me to the door.

Outside, we withdrew safely and quietly to a rooftop.

“Why did we leave them?” I asked.

“Trixy’s not my only contact. The bartender’s mine. She’ll get ‘em where they need to be.”

A beat.

“You knew Baron Haus wasn’t gonna be there.” I said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“That’s the only reason you promised me you wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Hesitation. “Yeah, it is.”

“Are you gonna track him down?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Seriously.” I tried again. He sighed, then looked at me. I was seeing his eyes clearly for maybe the first time all night. It was sobering, and he held my gaze.

“Yes. Yes, I’m going to kill him.” He said firmly. I looked away.

“He’s got a track record.” He explained. “Does shit like this, gets caught, and then uses his friends in blue to get a lighter sentence. Three months, maybe. Then, he’s back. I’m not the first one to catch him. But I promise you, I’ll be the fuckin’ last.” His vitriol was oil on concrete, and I decided it was better not to light any matches. The rest of the walk was quiet, neither of us making the catalytic initiative to part ways, coming down from the adrenaline the way we’d built it; in each other’s uncertain company.

*

We settled on top of St. Luke’s Hospital, towering defiantly amidst the smaller, crowded inner city neighborhoods below. It was 4am, but I wasn’t tired. Quite the opposite; I was awash with energy, by grace of the night’s feat and the biting cold. Jason had pulled his helmet off, and was leaning against the steel exhaust pipe, myself nestled at his side.

“I have another place I need to go. Three days- Mafia business in Little Italy.” He said.

“And you want me to come?” I asked. He tipped his head.

“What can I say, doll? You’re good at this.”

I looked over the city, brow furrowing.

“Unless,” He added in a low voice, wry and challenging. “You think it’s wrong. I am the bad guy, aren’t I?”

I didn’t look at him, because I knew he was wearing a darkly arrogant expression, and I didn’t want to see it. No, there was nothing wrong about what we did tonight. Even if there was; I’d do it all again for the relief on Tiffany’s tear-streaked face.

“I’ll go.” I said. “But you have to tell me something. Honestly.” I said firmly, bringing my eyes to meet his. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Ask away.”

“Why me? Why don’t you hate me like you hate them?” Them. My family. Our family. Hate seemed a harsh word, but only after I supplied it, was I reminded of its truth. Jason studied me for a few agonizing moments, allowing only the sound of wind and distant, crying sirens.

“Carolyn Crawford.” He finally said.

“What?”

Carolyn Crawford.

I’d forgotten all about her. My life was sort of divided by this giant, barbed wire fence between before adoption and after adoption. Evidently, my brain decided that anything before adoption would be better of folded up, sealed with wax, and filed away. Traumatic memory suppression, the shrink Bruce sent me to called it- even though the only traumatic thing was the night my parents died, not everything that came before.

Nonetheless, Carolyn Crawford was somebody I hadn’t given any particular thought to in a long time. She was a woman of forty (at the time I was thirteen), and she had that snooty, Diamond District disposition that you only find in women who marry into wealth, but aren’t born with it. She was beautiful; pale skin, thin, with an air of 1950’s suave, accentuated by the auburn bob of artificial curls she always wore. Her husband was an investor in Wayne Enterprises, and she was sleeping with Bruce.

I had no reason to know, or care about this. But Jason did. When he found out, he was uncharacteristically devastated. I could imagine, in retrospect, that when you’re a boy of fifteen and you find out the man who adopted you- a man who was a holyfigure in your eyes, the good guy- was sleeping with a married woman ten years his senior, you may experience a bit of devastation. He had something, some virtuous perception of Bruce, ripped away from him, and he was given a concept that his father, too, had vices. His one vice; women.

Jason was angry. He wanted the world’s perception of Bruce to crumble alongside his own, and so he took all the valor in his teenage body and enacted his own justice.

An anonymous email was sent to just about every company partner or investor, including Carolyn’s husband, and my parents, disclosing a picture of Bruce in some secluded room at a gala, with his arm around Carolyn’s waist, leaning intimately into her ear. She had a wry smile on her face. Above the photo was a single tag line.

“Carolyn Crawford is fucking Bruce Wayne.”

My parents gossiped about the email, of course, when they thought I wasn’t leaning against the office door. But that was all I ever knew about it. Apparently Carolyn’s husband didn’t divorce her, but he did cut her off financially, which may as well have been the same loss.

That was all I heard of it, up until a charity event on a particularly cold January night. The January before Jason’s death. I was waltzing around as per usual, a cup of punch in my hand. Waiting for the clock to tick its way to eleven o’clock- when I knew my mothers would want to depart so they could get up for work the next morning. The music was lovely; fluttering strings.

“You!” It was a harsh sound, like a shrieking banshee, or the whining note of a violin when all the bow hairs are frayed.

Carolyn Crawford was marching right toward Jason, fury on her beautiful face. I didn’t catch the beginning of the conversation as I tried to make my way through the bodies, of which a few were also alarmed by the sound.

“...you’re the only one who could’ve done it, you little- don’t lie to me!”

Jason was defiant there, with his arms crossed and his lip slightly raised, but I could tell by the nervous look in his eye that she was pointing her bony finger at the right suspect. I’m certain it was Bruce who figured it out.

“What the hell are you talking about, lady?” He said.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you sent that email. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“You’re outta your mind.”

“You’re going to regret this, I promise. I’m going to make sure that this follows you-“

“He didn’t send the email!” I said, pushing past a man who was eagerly watching, like it was the best thing he’d seen all night. I’m not even sure what possessed me to offer up the statement- maybe the way she was throwing her venom in his face and jabbing her finger at his chest.

“I did it.” I said. I didn’t look at Jason, but from the corner of my eye, I could see his mouth fall open. Carolyn Crawford turned on me.

“What?”

“I sent the email.” I said. We’d drawn more observers now, a small, hushed crowd of people too polite to intervene, but too curious to look away.

“Who the hell are you? And why would you do that?” Up close, I could see that she looked like she hadn’t slept. Other little things too; a pearl out place, stray hairs. She’d probably been through hell since Jason sent that email.

I leveled my gaze on her. “You really need to ask? What kind of wife-“

Slap.

Her open palm swung across my cheek so hard that I nearly stumbled into a donation table. There was a pressure in my ear, and then a stinging sensation. I put my hand to my cheek, and when I looked back up at her, she was eyeing the shocked crowd. Then, she turned, and walked briskly toward the exit, heels clicking on the marble.

Everyone stood there, looking at me. I flushed, shrinking under the weight of their eyes, feeling like an animal in a zoo. My mothers were nowhere to be found, and neither was Bruce.

In a swift movement, Jason grabbed my hand, shooting angry glares like daggers toward anyone who was looking, and ushered me into a secluded corner.

“Why did you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?” He whispered frantically, obviously battling whether he should touch my face or not. He decided not.

I gave him an insulted look. “I was helping you, jackass!”

“Well, you didn’t help!” He said, before adding, more exasperatedly. “You just got hurt.”

I shrugged, taking my hand off my cheek, probably to show him some modicum of strength, or defiance. “It’s not that bad.”

It was that bad. It was the first time I had ever been hit, by anybody. I actually wanted to cry. But I was dedicated to my tough girl role, so I didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He said, surprising me with the fearful apologeticism in his voice. “I’m really sorry- you shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve said something. I just fuckin’ stood there like-“

“Hey! It’s okay. I did it because I wanted to. Besides, it really doesn’t matter who did what. She’s just mad she ruined her own marriage.”

He shook his head and slunk down beside me on the cold marble. The AC was offensively imposing for the middle of January, and I hugged my knees to my chest as we watched the guests disperse, dragging back the events of the night to gossip about later, like foxes carry prized rabbits.

*

“Carolyn Crawford?” I repeated. “That’s what this is about?”

Jason gave me a wiry look, a lopsided smile, then threw his head back and laughed, contagiously so. I let out a disbelieving chuckle.

“I mean,” He added, “Not all of it. A little.” There was residual laughter in his tone, and it made me want to lean into him.

“A ‘little’. Okay. Should I be getting in touch with Carolyn Crawford and thanking her for rekindling this little partnership?”

“Yeah.” He said. “Send her an email.”

I laughed again. “Seriously, Jason, what the fuck are you talking about?”

His grin lingered, and his eyes fell over the city. I could see the gears turning as he considered his response. Then he just shrugged.

“You covered for me.”

“Yeah.”

“And...” He leaned back, not taking his eyes from the sprawling lights. “Somethin’ tells me you still are.”

I looked at him for a while, trying to wait him out and make him elaborate. But he didn’t. I resigned with a sigh.

“Yeah, well.” I mumbled. “Carolyn Crawford was a giant bitch.” His lips fought a losing battle against another smile.

“Personally, I’m still a little impressed she had the gall to slap you.”

“Haha. Hey- did you actually take that picture?”

He shook his head, hesitating before adding. “Dick did.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He chuckled.

“So I took the fall for both of you.”

“Yeah, you did, Princess.”

He had this familiar, juvenile grin stuck to his face. And for the first time in a long, long time, he was Jason Todd.

[kookscrescent]

The Wake Up Call┊pjm

⇢ paιrιng┊idol!jimin x f reader ⇢ ѕυммary┊you fail to wake up your boyfriend the old fashioned way, therefore you turn to the one thing you know he won't be able to resist.  ⇢ genre┊ smut, established relationship, boyfriend!au ⇢ warnιngѕ┊pwp, sexual intercourse, oral (m receiving), riding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cursing, dirty talk, crude words  ⇢ word coυnт┊1.7k words┊unedited ⇢ dιѕclaιмer┊This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡ 

⇥ Masterlist

NB! This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

“Jimin, wake up,” you gently shake your sleeping boyfriend, but to no avail, “Babe, you need to leave in an hour,” again you shake him and this time he protests a groan. He rolls to his side and buries his face amongst the pillows.

You sigh. He was the one that asked you to wake him up at 6:45 am in the first place! And now he doesn’t want to?! He has to – his schedule starts at 8:20 am, but the man still needs to shower, get ready, have some sort of quick breakfast and leave at least by 8:05 to make it in time.

You give it another go, “Jimin!”

Still nothing, but you notice his eyelashes flutter slightly. Is he ignoring you on purpose?

You need something to get him out of bed! Something he won’t be able to say no to. Hmm, something that will wake him up and he won’t be able to resist? A sudden idea pops into your head.

You smirk devilishly to yourself as you gently push his shoulder, making him turn to his back. Kicking the duvet to the end of the bed, you crawl between his lightly spread legs.

He’s never been able to resist this, you think and run the palms of your hands gently up his bare thighs and grasp the waistband of his black boxers. He is already sporting semi hard morning wood, so you won’t have to do much to get him worked up in the first place.

He still doesn’t move. Not even when you drag his boxers down his legs as far as you can get them. You stop at his knees. That will have to do.

His cock lays against is stomach, proud and ready – the thick, veiny shaft making your fingers itch to reach out and touch it.

You weren’t really in the mood before, but you sure are now!

Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you give him a few leisurely strokes to test the waters. He does nothing on the first few, but as your hand tightens around him and gains speed, he stirs. He hums, a rumble so loud coming from his chest that you are surprised he didn’t wake himself up.

You thumb his slit, stroking it back and forth and enjoying the way his stomach muscles twitch.

Surely, he is going to wake up any second now. But just for good measure, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue replacing your thumbs previous action.

No more than a few seconds later, does Jimin open his eyes in shock and pleasure. You look up at him from beneath your lashes while trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Shit!” he grumbles falling back on the bed.

With his eyes closed, he runs his hands through his morning hair. He breaths deeply, still confused and trying to piece together what is going on. Well, he knows what is going on, but why is the question. Not that he in any way is complaining! Is there any better way to wake up than with your gorgeous as fuck girlfriend sucking your cock? NO!

Working your mouth lower on him, you cup his balls with your free hand – massaging and gently rolling them, adding to his pleasure. You work up a rhythm, pushing and pulling him in and out of your mouth, careful of your teeth.

Each time you pull up, your tongue swirls and licks around his swollen head. You are drawing deep groans and grunts from him, and you can feel how wet you are between you clenched thighs. You were only supposed to use this as a tactic to get him to wake up, but suddenly all thoughts of that are out the window!

“F-Fuck!” Jimin stammers, his head thrown back. One of his hands tangles in your hair, “Keep going baby,” he encourages.

Gradually, he starts rocking his hips, pulling himself deeper. You let him do as he pleases for a few moments, until you can’t take it no more. You need something too!

Jimin protests when he falls from your mouth, hard and pre cum leaking from his tip, but the protest quickly dies down when you crawl over him and discard you top along the way, leaving you naked except for your soaked thong.

With a swift movement you pull the flimsy fabric to the side and guide him inside of you.

“Oooohhhh,” you sink down on him inch by delicious inch.

“Yes baby! You’re fucking soaked!” Under hooded eyes, his gaze catch yours, “You get this wet from just sucking my cock?”

“Yes!” You gasp and roll your hips effortlessly over his.

Your head drops back, your hands placed firmly on his bare chest as you begin bouncing on him, setting a deadly pace. You are so close to coming. You can feel it.

Jimin scoots further up the bed, barely even interrupting you rhythm. With a firm grip, he grabs both of your ass cheeks. He applies pressure, rocking you over him faster and harder. Shit! You are co fucking close!

“Jimin I’m so close!” Everything inside of you is shaking. Your legs, your hands, your arms. Every fiber within you feels alive, building towards a climax so strong.

“Yeah? You gonna make yourself cum on my cock?” He growls. “You’re so goddamn tight! Your pussy was made for me! So perfect!”

At this point you have already given up, your body slumped forward on Jimin’s chest. He takes over without question. His hips smacking against the back of your thighs, completely undulating you.

Your mind has gone blank, the only sound coming from you is your desperate gasps of air as your body tries to keep up with the man under you.

This is not how you saw this panning out. You were only supposed to tease him a little so he would wake up, but somehow you have become the desperate and needy one here.

“Oh my fuck!” you bite down on his shoulder when the pressure inside of you boils up and almost snaps.

Jimin curses and almost cums right then and there from the feeling of your teeth sinking into his shoulder. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You can do nothing but nod, your voice has at some point decided to leave the building.

“Would you like that, huh?” He asks, his eyes burning, “you want me to cum inside of your soaked pussy?”

Vigorously you nod. God, you want nothing more at this point.

Pounding into you, he hits you so perfectly that you cum around him immediately.

“Jimin!” You cry loudly into his shoulder. Your hands are clawing at his chest as you hold on for dear life, letting the immense fire of your orgasm curse through you.

He is relentless. Not letting up and driving you to the point of almost passing out.

“Oh fuck, I’m coming!” he barely breaths the words before you feel him spilling inside of you – coating you walls and leaving behind a trace of himself.

You are both panting like wild animals as you come down, catching your breaths.

Turning your head, you rest your forehead against his. You pull his lips to yours, pecking them sweetly three times before you pull back to look at him.

“Good morning,” you smile lazily.

He chuckles lightly, making you move on his chest. “A very good morning indeed.”

“But at expanse do I deserve to be woke up this way?” he then asks you.

“You told me to wake you up, but you wouldn’t wa – oh shit!” You screech, your eyes fixated on the clock on the bedside table. 7:47! Shit! He’s going to be late! You get off him in an instant, his cock slipping from your heat. Jimin shines in disappointment.

“Jimin, you’re going to be late!”

“What? No, I’m not,” he replies and casts a look on the clock as well. His pupils dilate upon seeing the digits, “Shit! I’m going to be late!”

Rushing out of bed, as naked and glorious as he is, he almost falls flat on his ass getting tangled in the sheets. You try to hold back the laughter that is threatening to escape, but you fail. You laugh as he curses, quickly retreating a new pair of boxers from the dresser.

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?!”

Oh hell no! “I tried!” you protest, dragging your top over your head and down your body, “but you wouldn’t wake up.”

He speed walks to the closet, “So you thought it would be a good time to have sex?”

“I was only meant to tease you a little, but… I couldn’t help myself,” you pout.

He walks back out with fully dressed in a pair of black jeans and a t shirt. His hair is a mess but he doesn’t really have time to do anything about it. Thank god he doesn’t have any public appearances on his schedule today.

He stops in front of you, cupping both of your cheeks and plants a kiss on your still pouting lips, “God I love that you couldn’t help yourself,” another kiss, “and god I love you.” He plants another and kiss and you smile into the kiss.

“I love you too and I’m sorry I made you late.”

He lightly shakes his head and let’s go of your cheeks. You want to protest, but you let it go. “To hell with that. I can be late today. I’m sorry I raised my voice at you.”

“It’s okay,�� you assure him and hug yourself to his body, “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

“I really didn’t,” he brings your lips back to his for another kiss and you relax against him. Hmm, you could spend all day attached to his lips.

Even though you don’t want to, you pull back, “You really should get going.”

“Shit! Right, fuck…” combing his hand through his hair, you both pull apart and you watch as he gathers all his things and head for the front door. You follow behind him.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” your lips become attached again, but only for a few seconds. “Don’t wait up for me, okay.”

You frown, “Why not?”

“I wanna repay the favor,” he says with a wink, the door closing behind him.

I realized that I hadn't written something smutty interlay dedicated to Jimin, so I got the idea for this and here we are ;) I hope you enjoyed reading - and remember reblog and comments truly does inspire and motivate creators to keep going! Thank You!

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter I]

Word count: 2,134 Warnings: none but please keep in mind this story will eventually delve into mature themes so go away if you’re not 18+ Pairing: Dracula x female reader

I’ll try posting a chapter per week. Any constructive criticism and feedback is very welcome (really, english is not my first language so I’ll take any help I can get). I’m waiting for ao3 to e-mail me an invitation so I can post it there, too. 

_______________________________________________________________

He heard her footsteps long before she knocked on his door.

He stood sat on his armchair with a book on his lap, waiting. A loud song reached his ears, making him tilt his head. Hm. Interesting how humans could go around now with a tiny appliance that played music directly in their ears. The gramophone had lost its appeal and the wealth associated with it. Now everybody on the street carried one of those metal and glass slabs with strings attached to it, bobbing their head to their song of choice.

She was humming along with the song as she walked down the corridor to his building. Shifting in his seat, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A hint of perfume, coffee, strawberries and honey. Curious. Not a scent of her blood yet.

The clicking heels stopped as she paused the music and he rose. He took his time on the way to the door so she could adjust her belongings. Another deep intake of breath and he came to a halt, a sigh escaping his lips. 

Oh, intoxicating.

He found that this new era had brought exquisite new flavours to his taste, but this one… ah, she was a mix of old european blood, found only in the hidden depths of the Carpathian Forest, and the lovely nuance of modernity. That old saying, you are what you eat applied to her as well. Whatever she was in habit of eating or drinking heavily influenced her scent. A nice, well preserved and safely kept bottle of wine, just for him. It quickly overpowered all the other scents surrounding her.

Knock, knock.

Throwing his head back to try and regain his composure, he opened the door. The door handle dented beneath his hand upon laying eyes on her. He expected her to pretty but he was met with far more than that. 

“Yes?”, was all he could manage. 

“I’m Y/N L/N,” she said as if it were explanatory. He stared at her blankly. “Renfield sent me, I’m from the lawyer firm? I brought you some documents to review.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he stepped aside, opening one arm to invite her in and putting a smile on display. 

She peered at him from the corner of her eyes as she passed him, quickening her pace as he took another whiff. He would have to be more cautious so as to not scare her away. But if she did flee that would only make him chase her and he would drink her down too quickly, without any appreciation whatsoever. And what a crime that would be.

“I brought you a cell phone, as well. Renfield mentioned you were stripped of yours when you were taken to the Foundation.” She placed her bag on a chair and her briefcase on top of large center table of his flat. She had her back to him, giving an opportunity to analyse her.

The tight clothes and missing fabric was still something he had to get accustomed with but he wasn’t complaining. If anything, he quite liked the fashion of this century. 

The fact that he could see her stockings was outrageous, black with a seam running down the center of her legs. In his time, she would have been lynched for having her undergarments on display like that. The black high heels were a nice touch. And then the tight pencil skirt outlining her curves… It left just enough for his imagination. 

She turned around to see him standing there like a statue, the door still open. Ah, pity. How unfortunate that those shirts were still in fashion. He couldn’t recall the name humans gave it in this era and suddenly he hated it. The collar covered her neck entirely. In fact, now that he realized it the only skin showing on her body was on her face and hands. 

“Count? Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine, my darling,” he replied, closing the door at last and swallowing down the saliva that had welled up in his mouth. He strode over to her, placing his hands on the chair closest to her. “I apologise for my manners. It has been awhile since I had a guest over, you must think me a terrible host. Please, take a seat. Unfortunately I have only water and wine to offer you.”

She looked derisively to the chair offered to her. Her lips fought a smile and he encouraged it by smiling in return, but, no, she refused to give it to him.

“Renfield was right,” she whispered under her breath but he caught it. Louder, she said “Thank you but I’ll stand. I’m in a hurry today. Don’t you worry about me,” she extended a white box with a picture of that metal slab on the front. A cell phone, she had said. “Here you go, there’s already a simcard in it, your new number is written in the back. I’ve taken the liberty to set it up for you. I placed Renfield’s number on speed dial should you need it, he’s registered as 6. You do know how to handle one of these, right?”

“I catch on fairly fast,” opening the box and retrieving the phone. “And if I need to contact you?” 

“You have no need to contact me. I’m simply running an errand for my boss,” she stated dryly, averting her eyes. “Here, if you could sign these for me to release the rest of your assets,” a pen was offered to him. He plucked it from her small fingers automatically.

It was not often that he met someone that resisted his charms. He could count on one hand, in fact. The Van Helsings, Johnny and now her. At the very least Agatha and Zoe held some interest in him and Johnny had made himself a hero waging vengeance against him - especially now with the Jonathan Harker Foundation.

But not her. Not one sliver of interest.

“Are you signing them or should I come back another da- evening?” she corrected herself, one hand on her hip and another raising to push her hair back. He caught a glimpse of the skin beneath her ear, paler than the rest of her.

He took his time signing each of the documents. When he was done, he gathered the papers in his hands, holding them flush against his chest so she wouldn’t get them and leave. She bit the insides of her cheeks, meeting his eyes with clear annoyance on them. Oh, fiesty. She was an impatient one. Maybe he had caught her on a bad day but he had a feeling she was always like this. He could not stop his smirk, which only made her heart beat faster in anger. 

“And if I want to contact you? I promise you I will make it worth your while.”

“I don’t do dates with clients.”

“I’m not your client.” 

That made her scoff.

“Right. You’re Renfield’s,” her eyes traveled up and down him, granting him a little satisfaction. “Still, I don’t do dates.”

“What if it’s not a date? I am new to London and I would appreciate if someone could show me the sights.”

“I’m not a tour guide,” she replied, her expression hardening. 

“No, you’re a lawyer.”

“I’m well aware. Can I have those back?”, one hand out to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Both of her hands went on her hips and she huffed, trying to make herself bigger as if she was demanding respect. The movement made her breasts press through her shirt, giving him a delightful sight. She grabbed her purse, swung it over her shoulder and proceeded to close her briefcase. 

“Fine. Keep them. I’m late to an appointment at court. I’m sure Renfield can send someone else to get those papers. In the meanwhile, enjoy life without all your money.”

“How insolent of you,” he shot back but he was smiling. He doubted she would address him like that if she knew just what he was.

“Yes I am. I don’t have time for games.” 

“This is isn’t a game.”

“Isn’t it? I see right through you. God, and you must think you’re so innovative with all the european sophistication. I bet you’re used to having women throwing themselves at you as soon as you mention you’re a Count.”

“Usually, I don’t have to mention it at all, in fact,” he intervened. She was about to continue but he carried on. “What was Renfield right about?”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. He cocked an eyebrow, shaking the papers as if to say he would give them to her if she answered.

“That you are not from here and that you are old fashioned.”

Listening attentively to her heart and how it skipped a beat, he shook his head to the sides.

“That’s not all. What else?”

“He said that you would try and gain my affections.” 

The Count offered her the papers. 

“Perhaps I ought to change lawyers. He clearly speaks more about his own clients than he should. Would you be available?”

And with that she chuckled. Ah, so the façade could be broken… at least for a second. 

“I’m afraid I have a long list of clients at the moment, Count Dracula. If you commit a serious offense you may call on me to represent you,” she took the papers, her fingers briefly brushing against his cold skin. Her eyebrows furrowed but she was quick to conceal her startlement at his temperature.

She was walking to the door as she stuffed the papers inside her bag and he accompanied her.

“I might just murder someone to take you up on your offer,” he said from behind her, in a tone much more serious than he intended. Still, she laughed at that, the sound ringing through the room. 

He courteously opened the door for her and she turned on her heels, extending a hand for him. 

“I apologise for being rude before but I will not apologise for setting boundaries. I hope you understand that, Count. And if you do decide to murder someone make sure to hide the evidence so it will be a good case for us.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

He grinned at her and she smiled back but without the warmth he presented her. A large hand slipped into hers and she shuddered. Gazing down unto her eyes he shook her hand which made her smile grow more confident. She had started to loosen her grip but he held her firmly. He bent forward and his lips caressed the back of her hand. She stared at him the whole time as if hypnotized and for a moment he thought he had gotten her in the palm of his hand but then she blinked and cleared her throat. 

“Boundaries, Count Dracula, you should remember them if we meet again. Goodbye.”

“Bye now, my darling,” he called when she turned her back to him and started marching down the corridor, swaying her hips.

“Boundaries!” she repeated as she entered the elevator.

Before the doors closed he could swear he saw an amused glint in her eyes. 

The Count sat on his armchair again, the book now forgotten as he thought about Y/N. He was still indecisive about what to do with her. Simply draining her would not only be a waste of good blood but as well of character. 

She demanded respect with every step of her heels. He would bet that she could cower many men with that stare of hers. Dracula had never met many lawyers and those that he did meet were fascinating in different ways. Johnny was determined although slightly stupid. Renfield was a slave to his every wish. Should Dracula ask him to retrieve the fattest fish in the sea, the poor man would probably drown trying to get it. But she was an entirely different breed.

So strong-willed that it was a charm all on its own, without even striving for it to be as such. He had heard an expression on the television the other day that he thought might apply well to her - “my way or the highway”.

And such amazing beauty. Make up was far more popular in this century, he could tell, and he was quickly learning it could disguise many unwanted flaws but she used in such a way that it added to her beauty instead of covering it. 

Beautiful, impetuous, resolute… and a sense of humour that was surprisingly dark. 

Ah… She would make quite the bride if she could withstand the change. And if she did not, he would make sure to savour every curve and every last drop of blood in her body.

[thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters]

Request: “#48 with Sam + ‘enemies to lovers’ and ‘stubborn Sam’” by @encounterthepast​ 

Prompt: "Of all the people to get trapped in an elevator with, it had to be you." 

Pairing:  Sam x Reader 

Word count: 2.2K 

Warnings: Panic attack, mentions of claustrophobia, there’s a swearword (oh, my), some angst and fluff

A/N: Sam’s kind of a brat in this one but I had fun writing it. Enjoy! :) 

Beta: @princessmisery666​ 

JJ’s Rockin’ 100 - PROMPTS || MASTERLIST || ASK BOX 

(gif) 

Sam’s eyes darted across the parking lot as he made his way over to the entrance of an impressively tall office building. He was still expecting you to show up out of nowhere, like you had the day before when he learned he wasn’t the only hunter in town for this current case.  

He would have taken any other partner on this job, really, but not you. Which was why he had made it clear he wanted you to leave. He knew better than to think you would listen to him. You had hijacked a case from him a few years back, so it was clear to him you had a hard time leaving things to someone else when that person told you they could handle it.   

The two of you had crossed paths a couple of times since then, and there had always been this feeling of tension that made Sam incredibly uncomfortable. Not to mention how, every time you so much as looked at him, his blood started to boil. Everything you said, he wanted to pick apart bit by bit, to correct every detail. It got a rise out of you, which was what he aimed for during most of his interactions with you.  

He couldn’t help it. There was just something about you.  

Fortunately, since your encounter the day before, he had yet to see your face again. While entering the building and flashing his badge at the man behind the desk, Sam went over the case in his head to try and replace the thoughts of you with ones of work.  

People in town had been falling victim to vicious animal attacks – inside their homes, with the doors locked.  

A quick visit to the Medical Examiner's office had provided Sam with the knowledge that he was dealing with hellhounds. Which meant demons were involved. And so far, every victim was, or had at some point in time been, an employee of the company that resided in the office building he had made his way into.  

Someone was persuading the people that worked there to make demon deals, and Sam was going to find out who.  

He stepped into the elevator and turned around to press the button for the floor he had been told the last victim’s office was on. When he looked up, he spotted you, entering the building and making your way over to him.  

Sam’s hand reached out to press the button to close the doors. A second look in your direction told him you had quickened your pace. The black heels of your makeshift FBI uniform clicked on the marble floor. Sam pressed again.  

The doors finally started to close, but they moved way too slow for his liking. He hit the button again. Then again, and again. The interval between his clicks became faster but it was as if the doors were moving in slow-motion instead.  

Just in time, you slipped in, the doors locking the both of you in as the elevator began its ascend.  

You greeted him with an aloof tone, “Samuel.” You had been calling him by his full name since that one time he had specifically told you not to.  

Sam gritted his teeth, hating how you were already getting under his skin. “Get out,” he said flatly.  

“You want me to jump out of a moving elevator?” Before Sam could open his mouth to respond, you quickly added, “Actually, don’t answer that.”  

“I know why you’re here,” Sam said. He didn’t want to talk to you, but an insuppressible urge was making him do it anyway.  

“Oh,” you said, sounding intrigued, “and why is that?”  

From the corner of his eye, Sam could see you turning to look at him, but he kept his gaze straight ahead when he answered, “To sabotage another one of my cases.”  

Your chuckle bounced off the walls in the small space. “When are you going to let that one go?” you asked. “I didn’t sabotage your case, I solved it for you.”  

Sam turned abruptly, his jaw setting and eyes narrowing. He wasn’t in the mood to play your games. “Without keeping me in the loop,” he reminded you, even though he was certain you knew exactly what he was getting at. “You almost got me arrested. I showed up to that cemetery with my shovel, salt and lighter, and the cops were already there because someone had set fire to a bunch of remains.”  

“You gotta admit that was pretty funny,” you quipped, lips breaking into a grin. “That look on your face...” You shook your head in amusement. “Priceless.”  

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You were watching?” he hissed through clenched teeth.  

Your shrug only infuriated him more. “What can I say?” The grin on your face grew wider. “I couldn’t resist.”  

All Sam could do was send you one of his deadliest glares. Still, you seemed to remain unfazed.  

His eyes shifted from you to the little black screen that displayed the current level you were on. His hand moved to the panel at his side and he pressed the button for the next floor.  

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the elevator stopped and a ding sounded as the doors opened to reveal an empty hallway.  

“Get out,” he said again.  

You rolled your eyes and stayed put. “I don’t do stairs,” you told him.  

For a moment, Sam considered getting out himself. At least that way he could get away from you. But taking the stairs felt like letting you win, so he watched the doors close and the number on the little screen begin to rise again as the elevator did the same.  

It inched closer to your destination. Then, the screen went dark. Before either of you could respond, the elevator jolted to a stop. You stumbled against Sam, and he reached out reflexively, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steady you.  

For a few seconds, all that could be heard were the sounds of your breathing. Then you glanced up at Sam and he quickly let go of you while clearing his throat. He took a step back and so did you, putting as much distance between the two of you as the limited space would allow.  

Sam made sure to look anywhere but directly at you. He tried all of the buttons, then tried them again. Even the emergency alert wasn’t working. Having worked countless cases that involved sudden setbacks, he doubted this was a simple coincidence.  

In his head, he could already picture the demon and his suspected buddies messing with the powerlines to buy themselves some time. The last thing Sam wanted was for them to be able to properly prepare for a fight while he was stuck in a cube with no way out.  

Your voice dragged him out of his thoughts, but it was the way it went paired with uneven breathing that finally made him look at you again.  

“This isn’t happening,” you said before breathing in sharply. “We’re stuck, aren’t we? That’s just great. We’re fucking stuck.” You moved over to the buttons and pressed them all like Sam had tried a moment ago. Still, nothing worked. Your fist slammed the emergency alert button several times but all you seemed to get for your effort was a more constricted breathing.  

“Are you...” Sam looked for the right word as he watched you move back over to the wall. “Panicking?”  

“No!” Your reply was sharp but the wheezing sound of your breath didn’t make you sound very convincing.  

“You are,” Sam spoke matter of factly. “You’re having a panic attack. Are you claustrophobic?”  

“I’m fine,” you spat. “And I am certainly not having a panic attack.”  

Sam rolled his eyes at your unwavering stubbornness. Who’d you think you were – him? “I have a brother who always tries to sell me the same crap,” he told you. “I know a panic attack when I see one, Y/N.” He looked you over and waited for your eyes to meet as if to prove a point. “You never struck me as the cliché-phobia type of person. Thought you were supposed to be this tough hunter.”  

He knew that wasn’t fair of him to say, but the words had left his lips before he could stop himself. It was simply the way he was used to conversing with you. Usually, you had a snarky reply ready, but obviously now was not the right time.   

Sam was about to mutter an apology of sorts when the glare you sent his way made him pause. Not because he was fazed by your hatred for him, he had dealt with that before. But because he saw something else in your eyes. Fear.  

“Maybe...” you puffed between short, fast-paced breaths. You were still trying to act as if nothing was wrong, but your hand had moved to grab a hold of the steel railing attached to the wall and your body was slumped over slightly. “Maybe I’m not freaking out because I’m trapped, but because of who I’m trapped with. Of all the people to get trapped in an elevator with, it had to be you. It just had to be you, didn’t it? Damn it!”  

It was clear getting agitated took a lot out of you. Sam could see your knuckles turning white as you gripped the railing tighter.   

Despite your obvious distress, something was still keeping a hold of Sam’s own stubbornness. It stopped him from tapping into his sympathetic side and instead made him say, “So, you admit you’re freaking out, then?”  

You rolled your eyes so hard your head tipped to the side. Or maybe the movement was caused by your brain not getting enough oxygen, because Sam could see your eyelids beginning to droop as well. Had your knees been shaking this badly the entire time?  

Your body toppled forward and, in a split second, Sam was there to catch you. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you against him, before slowly lowering the both of you to the floor.  

“Woah, hey, easy there,” he spoke softly.  

Your head was resting against his chest, causing a flutter to erupt in Sam’s stomach. He swallowed hard before gently reaching for your face. Cradling your head in his hands as if it was the most fragile thing he had ever touched, Sam pulled you back so he could look at you.  

“Just concentrate,” he said. “Eyes on me.” He pulled one hand away to point two fingers at his own eyes. Though your gaze was glazed over, he was happy to see you obliged.  

“Good,” Sam spoke, trying to be heard over the sharp wheezing of your panicked breaths. He could feel your body shake in his arms. “Now we’re gonna breathe, slowly. You and me, together. Think you can do that?”  

The shake of your head made him purse his lips. “As always, I disagree with you,” he said. He thought he caught the faintest of smiles on your lips. “Just follow my lead, all right?”  

Sam began taking in deep breaths through his nose, releasing them slowly through his mouth. He told you to try it, then breathed with you, counting the seconds for each inhale and exhale to help you focus.  

“Good,” he said again, “you got it.”  

When he was convinced you had mastered the rhythm, he allowed himself to assess the situation. To his surprise, his own heartbeat had picked up its pace as well. But his breathing exercise hadn’t helped to calm it down. Something told him that wouldn’t be possible for as long as your body was so close to his.  

Your cheeks regained their color and your gaze seemed to be able to focus again. After another slow exhale pressed through your lips, you leaned back. “Thank you,” you said. There wasn’t a hint of hostility left in your voice. For the first time since he met you, you sounded genuine.  

Sam blinked a few times before shaking his head to make himself focus. “Any time,” he grinned at you.  

Instead of having time to evaluate the sudden change in dynamic that was clearly felt by the both of you, you were forced back into the reality of the demon hunt when the elevator suddenly started to move again. Sam was back on his feet in an instant, reaching out his hand to help you up.  

“You good?” he said, eyeing your legs, half expecting them to start wobbling again.  

You nodded, and only then did you seem to notice your hand had yet to let go of his. Sam didn’t mind the few seconds you waited before pulling it free.  

“You know,” Sam said, “once this thing stops moving again and those doors open, there’s gonna be a bunch of demons waiting to kill us.”  

The grin on your face washed away the last bits of worry he felt toward your current state. “I say, let ‘em try.”  

You both turned to face the steel doors when the elevator came to a halt. Sam reached for the demon knife he had hidden in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, you widened your stance and balled your fists.  

The now familiar ding sounded again, followed by the slow opening of the doors. 

[namfine]

Hi, can I request a nsfw titanic scenario with taehyung? Kinda like the scene in the movie where Jack and Rose first sleep together. Thank yooou

Hello! Gah, I absolutely loved this ask. I took some liberties with the original plot of the movie and switched some stuff around- hope that’s okay and I hope you enjoy. Who knows this may inspire a longer fic in the future? 

-Admin Zesty 

Taehyung traced the line of your shoulder with his fingers. His form was tense and his fingers barely skimmed your skin as his eyes devoured you. It tickled a little, and you let out a breathy exhale, fascinated with the darkening in his gaze.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, careful to keep your voice low. You were in your cabin, your mother and fiance were out, but you were cautious ever the same. The walls had ears on this ship and the cabin maids loved to gossip.

Taehyung had snuck up here to fulfill your artistic request of a portrait of your likeness and  before you knew it here you were, completely nude before him. Exposed to his piercing dark eyes, as he drew your form in his notebook.

You had watched as his eyes took in every detail of your soft skin, your subtle curves. Watched as his pupils darkened when he drew your breasts and filled in the hair between your legs.

You hadn’t meant for this to happen, both the drawing and the feelings but it didn’t matter in the end. None of this mattered except your love for this man, in this moment.

Evidently, he also felt the same because he had abandoned his craft after struggling dutifully through and now knelt before where you lie on the chaise, his brow furrowed, as he traced the contour of your waist to your hip bone.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” He murmured his hand slipping down your thigh, careful to stay modestly away from where they met. You shivered at the feeling.

“So I’ve been told,” you quipped and Taehyung met your eyes, a sly smile on his lips. You sat up, straddling his midsection and gripping his suspenders,pulling him forward onto the chaise. He caught himself on his hands, braced on either side of your hips and leaned forward brushing his lips against your own. Taehyung eliminated any self conscious worries you had with a flick of his eyes and a brush of his lips and soon you were melting under his grasp as he deepened the kiss, wetness building between your legs.

It’s funny how things change. How you could go from meekly fulfilling your mother’s wishes of marrying that reproachful man and being shipped across the world on a meager cruise liner to locking lips with a street urchin known as the Prince of the Third Class but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You had known, from the second you saw him on that deck that he was destined for you as much as you were for him. He had eagerly shown you his life by exploring the underground of the ship and late night dances  even though your life had rejected him. He had earned  your loyalty and your loyalty knew no bounds.

Taehyung’s kisses were desperate now. He was pressed against you, his clothed cock pressed against your slick core and you could feel how ready he worked up he was for you, long past using his arms to hold himself up as he wrapped himself in your embrace.

“Tae. . . Tae-” you panted, breaking the kiss to cup his face and stare deeply into his eyes. “I want you, Tae. All of you.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide with shock, his hair mussed. “What? Here?”

You nodded.

“But, your mother? Cal?”

“They won’t be back for hours yet, they’ve gone to watch the opera.” And frankly, you didn’t care. You had lost your virginity years back and regretted not saving it for someone special. Your first time had been unremarkable and if you were going to be forced to spend the rest of your life with Cal, the least you could do was experience love and passion for once in your life. “Please, Tae, it might be our only chance.” You had three days left until you made port in New York City.

He looked at you, face flushed, lashes long before nodding slowly. “I want to. . . it’s just. . .” He paused, looking away from you and biting his bottom lip. You resisted the urge to pull it into your mouth instead. “I’ve never. . . uh. . . I’ve never . . . had sex.” He said the last word so quietly that you weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Really?” you asked, brushing his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks to force him to look at you. He exuded such an air of confidence and sexual energy you had assumed. . .

He nodded, clearly embarrassed.

“Oh, god, Taehyung that doesn’t matter at all,” you smiled pulling him closer. “I’ll show you what to do, really, don’t worry. We don’t have to, though, if you don’t-”

He shook his head vigorously, “Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I want to. Very badly.”

Judging by the pressure you felt in his pants against your center, you figured that was a very true statement indeed.

You pulled him in for another kiss. “Okay, let me teach you how to do it then, pretty boy.” You tugged on his shirt, helping him pull it over his head before snaking the belt off his pants. As he stood to remove them you smiled and beckoned him closer, laying back on the lounge. Taehyung straddled you, his legs on either side of your hips before he leaned down to attach himself to your neck, nipping softly at the skin while he used a hand to grope your breast, rolling the nipple roughly against his calloused fingers. You mewled at the sensation.

“What are you nervous about,” you gasped. “You seem to know exactly what you’re doing.”

You felt him smile against your neck before his mouth slid down to nip and suck marks into your collarbone. You would have to remember to wear a scarf tomorrow lest Cal found out you were unfaithful. “I said I was a virgin,” he whispered before taking the nipple of another breast into his warm mouth. “Not a saint.”

You chuckled at that as you writhed under his touch. He lifted one of his legs and placed it between your thighs and your legs instinctively closed around it, holding him there. Taehyung let out a guttural groan as his thigh felt how wet and ready you were for him and you could see his cock stiffen beneath his underwear.

You grabbed one of his hands pulling it down to your cunt and Taehyung’s eyes widened. “What?” you whispered, pressing his fingers against your clit. “She doesn’t bite. Just, I need you to touch me here first, before we go any further.”

“Why?” Taehyung asked as he moved his fingers in a circular motion. You moaned and he let out a boxy grin, feeling rather proud of himself.

“It helps get me ready,” you panted, trying to keep the neediness out of your voice as Taehyung increased the pressure in his fingers ever so slightly. “Otherwise, it could hurt me when you go in.”

“It hurts?” he asked.

“Only the girls,” you replied. “And only if they aren’t fully worked up.”

Taehyung increased his tempo, as if trying to guarantee you would be really worked up.

He was succeeding.

You groaned again as you felt the familiar coil in your lower belly, a sure sign of impending orgarm and you squeezed your legs tighter against his thigh, his hand moving at a rapid pace. Taehyung took his other hand and inserted one finger, then two, into your sloppy cunt and you arched your back.

“Quick learner,” you panted. “Oh God, Tae, please don’t stop, I’m close, I’m so close.”

“You look so fuckin’ hot right now,” he answered, gently curling his fingers inside of you and sliding them in and out. The pressure was growing to be unbearable and you rolled your hips into his hand, searching to increase the friction. Taehyung increased the pace of the fingers sliding in and out of you and pressed a tad bit harder on your clit and it was enough to throw you over the edge.

Your body convulsed with the orgasm and Taehyung managed to pull out his fingers but continued working your clit until you were finished. Spent, your body relaxed and you looked up to find a very proud Taehyung grinning down on you.

“Did I do well?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that he did.

You nodded before sitting up and gripping his hips, pulling his underwear down to let his cock spring free. It was fully hard, probably from all the noise you were making, and already dripping with precum. You leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the tip but Taehyung gripped your hair, stopping you before you could do more.

“Maybe we should do that part later, I’m afraid I won’t last long if you play around,” he confessed and you grinned up at him. Time for the main attraction, then.

You pulled him down over you as you leaned back onto the lounge. Taehyung used one hand to hold himself up above you and the other to line himself up at your entrance. You could feel him as he pushed himself against your entrance, a series of breathy moans escaping his lips as he felt you wrap around him for the first time.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, as he continued to push in.

“No,” you whispered, fascinated with the look of pure bliss overcoming his face as he experienced the feeling for the first time.

“Good,” he responded. “Because I think this is the most amazing thing I have ever felt in my whole life.”

You grinned as you felt him bottom out and for a minute, he just stayed there, letting the feeling of your tight core wrapped around him overwhelm his senses.

“Taehyung,” you whispered. “If you think that’s amazing, wait until you move.”

He looked down at you as you felt him pull out slightly and push back in. His gaze changed and you were pretty sure his eyes were going to roll back in his head as he continued the motion, each time becoming more bold by the movements.

“God, I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he moaned, his hips slowly increasing the pace as he rolled into you. You clenched your walls around him and he growled, his eyes squeezing shut. “Definitely not if you do that.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him deeper access as he struggled to maintain the tempo. Ultimately his body betrayed him and he began to pound into you, his balls colliding against your ass to produce a guttural slapping sound that you hoped the maids couldn’t hear. But honestly, who gave a fuck? A large shake reverberated in the ship but neither of you paid it any mind as Taehyung slammed into you.

Taehyung began to murmur all sorts of dirty, beautiful things about how he wished he could disappear forever inside you and how you were the most wonderful creature he’d ever seen as he grew closer and closer to his climax. You urged him on with little gasps and breathy moans until he thrust himself harshly into you for the last time, holding himself as deeply into you as he could,  groaning loudly as he spilled himself inside of you. His body slumped down onto your own and he turned, pressing his forehead against your own, his eyes slowly opening to connect with yours.

You stayed like that for a moment, both of you reveling in the contact of one another’s bodies and the strong connection you had formed before he slowly pulled out of you with a sickening pop.

“I’m so sorry, I uh-” Taehyung stammered.

“It’s fine,” you smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss his temple. “I have things that will ensure nothing comes from this.”

He nodded and captured your lips on his own.

An alarm blared across the ship causing you both to jump. The loud speaker in your room activated and three harsh beeps signaled before a man’s voice came on:

“Greetings, passengers. I regret to inform you that as of now 11:45pm, the RMS Titanic has been irreparably damaged and we will all need to abandon ship. This is not a drill. Please report to your designated lifeboat stations. I repeat, the ship has been irreparably damaged, please report to your designated lifeboat stations. This is not a drill.”

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Fourteen

The plot continues to thicken. Catch up on what you might have missed in the previous parts linked in the Master List. 

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 2,288

Content advisory: More smut here and some possibly disturbing bits related to pregnancy

The summer seemed intent on making me suffer. Everyone from the town and the village agreed that it was the hottest weather they’d had in many years and my body felt every bit of it. The more I grew, the hotter it became. I spent nights lying awake in bed, body soaked with sweat, unable to position myself comfortably because I always had this heavy ball attached to my body. I was literally reduced to tears from the discomfort and prayed that I could give birth soon so that I could at least have my own body back. 

I expected that Balor would come to taunt me again, come to threaten to take the child, or to take us both, but he never appeared. I had Feargal, who tended gently to me and comforted me as he could. It was an adjustment for him, being at home much more often, and I could tell that he was a little on edge at the change. When he grew tense, there were moments when I thought I saw flashes of the Demon in him and I hated myself for being unable to rid myself of the thought that they were one and the same. 

Worst of all was that, in the midst of those endless nights, there were times when I longed desperately for Balor’s touch. It seemed like the sensations that he could create in me might distract me if only for a few moments. I could feel that he was close, always, watching me and planning. Thinking about what had happened between us, my sex ached with unsatisfied need. I shuddered to imagine what might happen to the baby if anything were to occur but that didn’t stop my body from wanting it. 

Sometimes, I dreamt that he’d come for me and for my baby. I felt his fingers close around my throat, his breath hot on my neck. Other times, I felt his hand trailing over my stomach, kneading at the stretched skin, that fine membrane that allowed me to protect my child completely. 

But when I would open my eyes, there was nothing to see, just Feargal sleeping next to me, features twitching as if he too were fighting something off in his dreams. Sometimes my stirring would wake him as well and his eyes would alight on me with an irritated expression, only to melt into tenderness as he realized where he was and why I was in the state that I was. When this would happen, he would kiss me over my face and hands and stroke my back until I fell asleep in his arms. 

It was on perhaps the hottest night of the year, or at least what felt like the hottest to me in my state, that Balor finally appeared to me. I had been convinced that I heard noises coming from the children’s room but when I went to check on them, they were sound asleep. When I walked back into our bedroom, however, I was immediately aware that something was different. The air, so heavy and stale in the late summer heat, felt fresher against my skin and it was somehow cooler than it had been, without being uncomfortable. 

I could barely see but it felt like I had stepped outside. Blurred lights hovered in the distance in all directions, even above and the bed in the room seemed enormous. 

“Feargal?” I croaked, seeing that the bed was unoccupied. 

I was so overwhelmed with the desire for sleep that I practically fell onto the bed, crawling towards my customary side and trying not to fall onto my swollen stomach. I wanted to call out for my husband again but I saw a familiar figure moving in the shadows. As he appeared before me, I strained to focus, needing to know once and for all if Finn Balor and Feargal Devitt were the same, but I was so weak and so very sleepy. I collapsed on my back, crying a little as I fought the urge to welcome him to my bed. 

He climbed on the end of the bed, running one rough hand along my calf, which was enough to ignite a fire in me. He cackled softly when he observed how my legs parted a little, inviting him to slide his hand higher. My mind was screaming that I should stand up and do whatever it took to put distance between myself and him but my body refused to cooperate. It had been so long since I felt the dark magic of his touch. 

“How beautiful you are like this,” he purred, running his hand up my thigh and making me gasp. “So ripe and needy.”

“I don’t understand my body anymore,” I whined, as much to myself as to him. 

“But I do,” he growled. 

He dragged one long finger through the folds at my crevice and I could not stop myself from crying out at the sensation. He continued the movement, as light a touch as I could imagine, back and forth, humming in pleasure to himself as he felt the flesh there grow wet and slippery. Finally, satisfied that I was desperate enough, he curled two fingers inside me, moving them slowly until I unconsciously began thrusting against them, feeling the ache of unmet desire that had been building in me for months become unbearable. Smiling, he obliged me by moving faster and harder and then, without missing a beat, he dipped his head between my legs. 

I screamed the instant his mouth connected with the swollen bundle of nerves, unprepared for the intensity of the sensation, for the pleasure as he nipped and sucked while reaching that magical point inside me that only he had been able to find. It was seconds before I felt like I exploded, hot juices pouring from my opening while at the same time tears leaked from my eyes. My vision went black, then white, then black and white again as a stream of mewls and cries escaped my lips. 

The man who rose to look at me seemed to shift between dark and light as well: I could see my beloved and the Demon at once until there was no perceptible difference between them. And in my weakness, all I knew was that this was the man I wanted. 

“I need you,” I rasped, grabbing at his arm. 

He was happy to oblige, lining his rigid member up with my sex and thrusting home with one swift movement. Once again, it seemed that every nerve was awakened, excited at the feeling of him being inside me, and I was quickly reduced to a quivering mass once again. 

His fingers dug into my hips, allowing him to move harder and faster as he cursed and snarled about the way my body had tightened inside, and, over and over again, how he was going to keep me, how he was going to take me and the child. I knew I should resist, that I should refuse him, but I felt heavy and weak and helpless, lost in pleasure and unable to extricate myself. I groaned in ecstasy as I felt him release and the hot mixture of our fluids flooded from my cavity and down to the bedsheets. 

I grasped the bedsheets in both fists as I slowly started to come down, releasing my grip only to swat at something that tapped at my hand from a distance. The tapping continued, despite my attempts to hit back at whatever it was, until I finally opened my eyes and saw Sophia standing next to the bed, the same bed I slept in every night in the familiar bedroom that was filled with the sounds of my gasping for air. 

“You were crying,” she said flatly. 

“I was just having a bad dream,” I gasped, trying desperately to figure out how I had returned to this place, or if I had even left to begin with. 

“Is everything ok?” she asked. 

“Everything is fine. Everything is safe,” I assured her. Her expression was so vacant that I thought for a moment she was sleepwalking again. “Come, I’ll take you back to bed,” I offered. 

She kept her eyes fixed on me as I wriggled ungracefully out of the bed and padded down the hall with her in my bare feet. As she crawled under her covers, she cupped my face in one of her slim hands and kissed my cheek. 

“It’s going to be harder for you,” she whispered sadly. 

I kissed the top of her head and answered, “We’ll be fine.”

I smiled as if I could not possibly have been more confident in what I was saying. I had found ways to hold the monster at bay for so long now, I thought, surely I could negotiate something? Did his wanting to “keep” me not indicate some kind of affection for me? Or at least, would it not mean that he would prefer for me to be happy? I repeated variations of this argument in my head as I headed back to my room and climbed as gently as I could into the bed. 

Feargal’s eyes opened as soon as I sat down and he smiled softly. 

“I was worried when I saw you weren’t here,” he sighed. “I keep thinking you’ll disappear one night.”

“I couldn’t disappear even if I wanted to,” I moaned. “I’m as broad as a barn door and move about as fast.”

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, pulling me into his arms. “There’s nothing that could make you less than beautiful.”

I shuddered a little as he ran his hand over my swollen stomach, thinking of all the ugly things I had already done that ate away at my soul and wondering what might still be asked of me. 

*

Feargal crept quietly from our bed a few hours later, obviously taking every precaution to avoid disturbing me. I was half-awake and aware of his movements but his determination to let me rest was so sweet that I pretended to sleep, smiling just a little when he kissed my cheek before heading downstairs. Left on my own, I did manage to drift off, only to dream of him shifting between man and demon as I tried to demand what he wanted. 

“You have access to me whenever you want. If you want this child I’m going to bear, then leave it in my care since it will need a mortal mother anyway. Why do you need to take us away?”

“I move between worlds,” the awful, familiar voice echoed in my head. “You can’t. Why would I choose to keep you only to leave you in the world where I have to appear as something less than I am?”

“Let me have just a little longer,” I begged. 

I woke with a sharp little cry, suddenly aware of a stabbing pain in my abdomen, which in turn frightened Susan as she entered the bedroom. 

“Oh ma’am I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you!”

I shook my head and smiled at her. “I was having a nightmare. You didn’t disturb me at all.”

She gathered the clothes we had set aside for washing, still looking very apologetic. 

“My mother told me she’d get all sorts of terrible nightmares near her time.”

It was a relief to me to know that what I had experienced might just be a normal side effect of my condition and that everything might be normal after the baby was born. I grabbed my dressing gown and slowly lifted myself up, wincing at another sharp cramp. 

“Please don’t get up, ma’am, you need your rest.”

“I do nothing but rest, Susan. And who knows long that’s going to continue.” I fumbled with the lacing of the robe in my thick, numb fingers. “If I can get around a little then that’s what-”

“You must get back in bed,” she insisted. 

I turned to face her and was immediately confronted with a face of shock and fear. She nodded towards the bed, breathing heavily. 

“Get back in bed right away,” she repeated. “I’ll go for the doctor.”

A bright red patch of blood stained the ivory sheets where I had been laying. I knew that blood meant there was something wrong and Susan’s expression told me just how dangerous it might be. I followed her directive and crawled back onto the bed, shaking off the robe as I did. She stayed only until she was satisfied that I had obeyed her directive and then she was off at a speed I had never seen from her. I heard a flurry of voices downstairs and then more footsteps, followed by the door opening and closing. I tried to focus on all the sounds but as I did, I felt warm liquid seeping from me, down my thighs. I touched my fingers to the skin and, as I feared, when I lifted them, they were smeared with blood. 

Kate entered the room and placed a hand on my forehead. “You’re not feverish,” she reported, trying to smile. 

“I’m bleeding.”

She nodded. “The doctor’ll be here soon and he’ll know what to do.”

I wanted to ask her if this meant there was something wrong with the baby, or if I was going to die in childbirth as my mother had before me but I knew that she did not have those answers. Nor could she tell me what it would mean for the Demon Balor if the child or I died. No one could tell me that, save the Demon himself and for once, I could not feel his presence in the room with me. 

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Fifty-Four “Endgame”

Hello everybody, how are you? Here is chapter Fifty-four of my Story Bodyguard, yay!! I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

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Cold blood.

Responsiveness and speed.

Three skills that stick to my skin: that saved my life dozens of times or saved the lives of others.

Plunged into semi-darkness and stuck in Alex’s garage, I breathe calmly and deeply to help me thing and find a way out… a solution…

I still had trouble realizing what had just happened in a few seconds: the mystery that had occupied us for long months had finally been revealed… the identity of Amelia’s stalker was no longer in doubt.

He was not a stranger, not a psychologically disturbed fan, but a man whom Amelia had had the opportunity to rub shoulders with on several occasions, who had done everything to be special in the eyes of the singer… without success.

This man who used to have everything he wants without effort, without resistance, had he lost his reason and crossed the limits in front of this contempt and this little interest that Amelia returned to him?

Indifference can have dreadful consequences…

.

My eyes, now adapted to the low level of light in the room, allow me to study more precisely the place where I am.

I scrutinize the room, my senses alert, and attentive to every detail… every element that could give me an exit key… to escape as quickly as possible, time was running out.

My gaze then identifies a very specific section of the room… from which stands out a weak skylight…

I notice then for the first time, a net reflecting the light of day.

I go forward, letting myself be guided towards this light source, like a lost and thirsty soul, called by a mirage in the middle of the desert.

I thus arrive in front of a huge cupboard which seems to hide what then constitutes my only hope, a window… a window which I hope will be wide enough for me to sneak.

I put myself to the side of the metal piece of furniture and take care to rotate it. I can only move it a few centimeters, the weight of the furniture prevents me from sliding it easily on the floor. I then open the piece of furniture and discover that it is filled with bulky tools and accessories from cars such as, batteries, exhaust pipes, having heavy and massive elements that bother me to lift the cupboard from the ground.

I do not take any special care and drop to the ground the maximum of accessories possibles, without paying attention if I break or damage anything in the operation.

After having cleared a large part of the shelves of the cupboard, I take a position next to it: a shrill squeak rises in the room as I shift the furniture… I position it perpendicular to the wall and I discover my glimmer of hope: a window located about two meters from the ground.

A window not in use, without a handle, about 30 centimeters high: the breach to escape like a prisoner.

I was going to have to contort myself but I had to try: it was my most direct and quick way out.

.

I take off my leather jacket and my suit-jacket that I had worn over a black T-shirt to give a touch of simple elegance for this visit.

I wrap my jacket around my right hand, then grab the window sill by my left hand. I stealthily hoist myself up with my free hand and throw a sharp, abrupt punch into the window. I happily realize that this is not double glazing and the glass breaks easily under my action.

The splinters fall partly on the ground around me, but I do not pay attention to it and rise again to break the window more widely, triggering a new rain of debris.

I look up above me: it is an empty dial which now reveals and lets me directly see the light and the outside landscape. I even perceive the lapping of drops as the rain seems to have taken hold of the sky.

I position myself on tiptoe and slide my jacket against the window sill, removing as much broken glass as possible. Satisfied with the result, I throw the garment to the ground without remorse: filled with shards of glass and torn, it was no longer of any use to me, and it was the least of my worries.

I take a few seconds, take a deep breath, then hoist myself with both hands against the window sill: I feel tiny shards of glass sticking under the skin of my fingers, but I ignore the pain, focused on my goal… get out of here as soon as possible.

With a quick movement, I slide my head into the window frame, while positioning myself slightly to the side, letting my torso rest on the ledge. My hands stretch outward: fresh breath and heavy drops touch my skin. My fingers seek the contact of the facade and I slide and sit on the windowsill.

I still feel imperceptibly splinters register under my skin, fingers, chest, thighs, but I am not sensitive to tingling and these cuts, even if I can see a flow extending along with my right hand… probable bleeding.

I finally manage to get out of the window completely and I jump without hesitation outside: I receive myself without too much difficulty on the gravel of the central courtyard. 

The light rain turns in a few seconds into the pouring rain and I run at full speed towards the entrance of the castle while feeling the water runoff and stick my T-shirt against my chest.

.

I find the porch of the huge building and grab the handle of the wooden door sealing the split between outside and inside the castle.

I turn the handle, effortless, almost surprised that the building is open, but in his eagerness, Alex did not take care to lock behind him.

I carefully take the first step inside: I discover a majestic and bright entrance.

A crystal chandelier adorns the center of this hall, like a decorative accessory, finely thought out and staged to mark visitors from the first seconds. My gaze is however automatically directed towards an imposing marble staircase, skirting a wall highlighting a magnificent tapestry.

The inside of the house is almost more striking than the outside of the house and clearly shows the status of the Karev family. However, I do not allow myself to be destabilized by this environment of luxury and refinement: I immediately focus on the slightest noise I can pick up while grabbling the gun I had taken care to attach to my right ankle.

My gun firmly in hand, my fingers alert and perfectly positioned, I advance cautiously in the direction of the stairs: I distinguish at this moment steps and very weak echoes of voice which reach me from the floors, comforting me on my intuition to engage on the stairs.

I calmly climb the steps but with a lively and controlled step. I let myself be guided by the intensity of the sounds around me and stop at the fourth floor: I then discover in front of me, a half-open door, through which the echoes of voices are intensified.

I walk quietly towards this room and I quickly perceive much more precise exchanges and snippets of conversations.

.

- It bothers me a lot you know asking you that…

Amelia’s voice reaches my ears: her tone seems embarrassed, a little overwhelmed by emotion, but I cannot discern any hint of distrust or fear.

- I would do a lot for you, you know, Amelia… this time I need you to prove to me that I am right to do it, however…

- Of course, what do you expect from me?

- You know well…

Alex’s answer suddenly tenses me up when I have my ear at the door: the way he expresses himself at this moment, with an almost dangerous mysterious scale makes me react immediately.

I push the door open with my foot and move into the room, the gun is firmly pointed, ready to shoot.

My irruption causes a first silhouette to turn around which is none other than Amelia while Alex stands proudly in front of me a few tens of meters.

I notice that he is sitting on the edge of the desk, a bookcase for decoration behind him while Amelia is standing, near a French window overlooking a large balcony, from which we can see the spectacle of the storm.

My gaze directly captures that of Amelia and I recognize a big surprise in her eyes which watches me with disbelief.

- Owen, what is wrong with you? She asks me with support, the piercing look. And what happened to you? Did you hurt yourself? She continues, a hint of concern in her voice, her attention fixed on my skinned hands and forearms.

- Owen? I thought your friend’s name was Jackson, Alex wonders, bouncing off Amelia’s spontaneous reaction.

The singer makes me big eyes at this moment, ashamed of her mistake and sending me back partly the fault of having revealed herself with this uncalculated reaction.

- Amelia, come close to me, please, I ask firmly, lowering my head slightly to make her understand to stand behind me.

- Owen, I don’t understand, what is happening? She bids without moving. You’re scaring me…

A heavy silence is established for a few moments.

I intensely fix my gaze on that of Alex and hold it carefully. My eyes reflect a touch of threat and mistrust revealing to him that his secret is revealed.

I can see a spark sparking within his pupils and the color of his eyes suddenly change.

And it’s his whole face that darkens and hardens.

- Yes, Owen, I don’t understand, what is happening? Alex repeats in a suddenly mocking and almost chilling voice.

Amelia immediately redirects her attention to the host and scrutinized him intensely.

As dumbfounded by this complete change of attitude and expression.

The man who had just spoken suddenly seemed radically different.

- Alex, don’t come near her!…

He only has to extend his arm to touch Amelia: his proximity worried me while I am still several tens of steps away… His eyes slyly find mind and I read a clear hint of challenge. 

- And you, don’t come near, either, he claims while staring at me.

The silhouette of Amelia stands out in the field of my vision, and I perceive her face moving back and forth between Alex and myself as she seems to lose all her bearings, paralyzed by the unexpected turn of the exchange.

- Alex… 

- What, Alex? He resumes, interrupting her dryly. Who do you think you are Amelia? I did everything for you, I would have done everything for you and you didn’t see me… and today, you come to see me, suppliant, trying to coax me, almost using your charms, to achieve your ends, to use me…

- No, it’s not…

- You treated me like less than nothing… he continues violently… me, Alex Karev… you dared to reject me, to ignore me, without considering who you were dealing with… who you were making suffer…

- Leave her alone, don’t force me to act, I go on firmly, taking two quick steps, to put an end to this exchange, which was starting to intensify dangerously.

- You do not consider me, and yet, I am worth a thousand times more than all the men you have met, Amelia, he continues without paying me the slightest glance. I have noble blood flowing in my veins… I belong to a family who worked for the United States, who struggled to wear their colors loud and clear… but family is a concept that is strangely strange to you, I think… like many other things, obviously…

Amelia freezes on the spot, the pale complexion, and the face marked by the violence of the words against her. Her hands start to tremble and her pupils fill with tears.

- It was… you who killed Richard? Who runs over April?

- Poor thing, you are so manipulable and blind… it was almost too easy… like now…

Alex’s eyes meet mine then, and in a breath he reaches out and takes Amelia, pinning her between his arms, a paper cutter slipped under the young woman’s neck.

- And like that, are you still going to act, Mr. Bodyguard? He asks in a loud and haughty tone.

I look for the look of Amelia who observes me with frightened eyes and filled in tears, as the paper cutter blade grazes her skin and she finds herself trapped under the threat of Alex.

- I wonder what she finds you, what you have more than me… the young man murmurs while studying me.

- Alex, let her go, don’t force me to use my gun, I said while gauging the situation… shooting could be tricky and dangerous for Amelia, as she is used by Alex as a shield in front of him.

He steps back slowly, leading the singer with him in his arms: he opens the door to the balcony with a kick, and continues to back away, entering the balcony and in the pouring rain.

I follow them carefully: I go ahead and reach in my turn this section of the castle open to the outside while I understand that he is heading towards the stone railing…

The heavy rain blurs my eyesight and the coolness immediately makes my muscles already tense.

My eyes, however, find those of Amelia and do not leave them during these few steps made in the rain: her eyes are reddened and reveal a real terror… I try to send her by my gaze all my reassurance and my confidence.

- Do you find it normal the attitude of a woman who ignores you in this way? Who avoids you? Who doesn’t even give you a look or attention while you’re madly in love with her? Alex asserts by letting his voice carry beyond the wind and the rain which mechanically lashes around us.

I notice that he continues to approach the edge of the balcony: I feel my fingers stretch out on my gun, my eyes widen, and focus more clearly between the drops.

- Love cannot be ordered… or bought, I answer in a calm voice.

Despite myself, his story resonates imperceptibly: a flouted love… the suffering created by a feeling so pure but also so dangerous… that it can destroy us… I cannot remain insensitive to the suffering which he expresses… but it was another life, I was another man…

Amelia struggles slightly: I perceive Alex tightening his grip and the pressure of the paper cutter against her neck to calm her.

The emotion quickly takes hold of the young woman and I distinguish despite the rain, the tears running down her cheeks. I quickly lose all sensitivity for the man in front of me.

I have only one obsession: to free Amelia from his grip: to keep her close to me, safe and sound…

The singer’s movement thus gives me an unexpected opportunity when Alex’s left shoulder is now discovered.

- I did not ask for much, however, he said suddenly in a weak voice.

- There are other ways of doing it… reactions don’t provoke like this, you shouldn’t have come to such extremes…

- She hurt me… I wanted to reach her back… and have her in my turn, he explains, slipping an arm against Amelia’s belly and circling her waist firmly.

- Alex, you can stop all this, you have this power, I proposed, focusing on the young man’s silhouette and fixing a precise point between the drops.

- I want her for myself only, forever, and now I have her with me… he says, snuggling up against the balcony lede.

The drops parade before my eyes. My sight tries to cling to a mark on the left shoulder of Alex, detached from Amelia.

His last words scare me, I’m afraid of understanding the outcome he has in mind, the action he plans…

My index finger slightly pulls the trigger in advance.

- You can make a difference, you can be stronger than those voices within you that dictate your behavior….

- I don’t want to, he whispers.

I discern a slight movement on his part, like an attempt to press on the pad, one more signal as my sniper senses goes on alert.

My sight suddenly settles.

My hands come to a stop and brake the vibrations caused by the wind. 

My whole body tightens in a quarter of second, Alex’s shoulder in the crosshairs.

My index finger activates the trigger…

A cry of pain pierces the breath of the wind and the lapping of the water.

Two silhouettes sand out in a fraction of a second: one presence steps back from the edge of the balcony a few steps while the other loses balance and tips over the stone ledge.

I watch helplessly Alex’s body leave my field of vision when the wound I just brought him destabilized him.

.

I put my gun away by pinning it in the belt of my pant and I run immediately, panicked by what I just saw.

I put an arm on Amelia’s back to reassure her then lean over without waiting overboard, alarmed by the scene I have just observed.

Alex is hanging a little over a meter from me, one handheld on a window sill.

I notice that he keeps his second arm dangling while his shirt takes on a red tint, colored by blood…

I position myself against the stone railing and lie down as much as possible towards Alex by holding out my hand.

- Hold on for a few seconds with both hands, and hold out your unscathed arm to me, Alex… I shouted against him.

My hand is a few inches from the one he holds firmly against the window sill, but I can’t grab it directly to help him.

I feel a presence near me.

Focused on Alex, I don’t have the opportunity to turn my head but I know that this is Amelia by my side. I slide a little more, my body being three-quarters in a vacuum and I distinguish at this moment a hand resting on my back and pulling on my t-shirt as if to prevent myself from falling.

- Give me your hand, I said more firmly.

- I want to see her, one last time, he answers calmly.

- I’m here Alex, Amelia specifies, whose voice stands out more clearly on my right and her silhouette stands out against the ledge. Listen, Owen…

- It’s a beautiful last image to see you like that above me Amelia, Alex said, slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on the young woman.

- Grab my hand, damn it! Hurry up! I repeat as I begin to weaken in this uncomfortable position, exposed directly to the wind and rain.

- I know I can’t have you now, but it’s soon Amelia… we’ll see you soon… in just a week, you will be mine…

- We can help you, be reasonable, I say as a last resort, worried by the words of Alex.

- In a week, we will love each other forever, I will wait for you… on the other side, he declared in a calm and deep voice.

He smiles widely while keeping his attention on the singer.

- Alex! I launched as a final call to order, my gingers stretched out towards him, my hand stretching out full length.

But he doesn’t listen to me anymore and I watch with dread, his fingers come off one by one from the stone ledge. 

His body falls as if carried by the wind in the void… without a noise, without a cry, if not a reaction of horror from Amelia who immediately hides her face against me, behind my back.

I stay fixed on the silhouette of Alex who falls, attracted towards the ground, with this list expression dressing his face.

.

A smiling, serene face almost soothed.

.

Like the smile of a happy and loving man, waiting for the time to find the chosen one of his heart.

.

And accessing the fullness of another world. 

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Thank you for reading. Have a great week 💛

[sexvimpulse]

Elias: [packs up his things early and makes his way to Emme’s room to see her before he leaves] Salut, Chatonne. [Murmurs as he leans against her door frame, actually feeling nervous as he’s never told her he loved her before until now]

Emme: [Wears a dress that has a front tie and shows off her cleavage, wanting to make it hard for him to leave her. Hearing the door, she parts her lips as she sees him, blushing while her heart races] Daddy. [Steps closer and closer before gazing up at him] You wanted to tell me something?

Elias: [Bites his lip as she looks good enough to eat. He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue in his cheek at her words] You’re embarrassing me.. [Pouts as he blushes slightly, pulling her against him] Je’taime, Emmeline. [Purrs the words in his deep voice as he gazes lovingly down at her]

Emme: [Finds herself deeply enamored with him as she witnesses a rare blush on his cheeks. Moving into his arms, her heart pounds against her chest as her eyes glisten at the sound of his words] Daddy.. [Drapes her arms over his shoulders as she pulls him down to kiss him deeply. Her body feels heated as his deep voice feels like it’s circulating through her] I am so in love with you.. Je t’aime, Daddy.. [Tells him over and over again, luring him back into her room as she doesn’t stop kissing him]

Elias: [Bites his lip as his own heart races because he loves her so much. He returns her kisses and wraps his arms around her. He moves into her room, tongue tasting hers] I missed you.

Emme: [Runs her fingers through his hair, gripping it as she presses herself against him. She moans as she tastes his tongue, wanting to be wrapped in his arms and not wanting to stop showing how much she loves him] You’ll miss me more if you leave, Daddy. So don’t go. [Pouts as she takes him to the edge of her bed, making him sit down as she straddles him] S’il vous plaît.. I love you, Daddy. I love you so much. Don’t go..

Elias: [He sits down and looks up at her, groaning as she straddles him] Mngh.. [Melts at the affection] I love you too, baby. [Cups her face] I want to go, though. [Frowns as he knows he’s causing them both pain]

Emme: [Completely smitten, she finds herself all over him before pouting as his words remind her that a part of him belongs to someone else] We love each other though.. [Her heart starts to sting as she looks away from him]

Elias: Oui, that’s true. [Nods as he holds her] Don’t be so sad. [Touches her face and makes her look at him] I love you. I’ll be back soon.

Emme: [Immediately lowers her eyes away from his, biting her lower lip as he says that he loves her] You’ll get over this feeling while you’re away. [Looks at him with her doe eyes, her full lips pouting]

Elias: It took me this long to realize.. do you really think me so fickle? [Pouts as he takes her hand and kisses it]

Emme: [Sulks before warming up to him again as he kisses her hand] Will you miss me and think about me, Daddy? [Drapes her arms over his shoulders, purposely displaying her cleavage against his face]

Elias: Of course. [Says without hesitation, he leans in and kisses her full breasts as he grips her waist] Mine. [Looks up at her] I.. didn’t even plan on telling you. I don’t want you to think I just said it for convenience.

Emme: [Kisses his forehead as she feels his soft lips punctuating her flesh] Oui. [Laughs softly, loving that he’s possessive with her now and feels the same way that she does] Then why did you say it?

Elias: Because.. I wanted you to know what you meant to me. [Looks up at her through his long lashes]

Emme: [Stares deep into his eyes, feeling completely drawn to him before leaning down to kiss him on the lips] What will I do without you? [Takes his hands, making him caress her body before placing them on her full breasts]

Elias: You’ll be okay. [Grips her breasts as he licks her mouth open] and.. if you want to fuck clients.. it’s not up to me to stop you. [Bites his lip, hating that he’s saying it but since he loves her he wants to be fair]

Emme: [Chases after his tongue before sucking on his wet muscle while grinding against him] I only want to fuck the man I love. [Pushes him down on the bed as she kisses and sucks on neck] How soon do you have to leave, Daddy?

Elias: [Is happy at her answer but he tries not to attach himself to the idea] Ugh.. [Moans as she’s aggressive with him] In a few hours. [Murmurs as he looks up at her, biting his lip]

Emme: [Drags her tongue from his neck to his lips before sitting upright as she takes his hands to make him undo the tie of her dress] Do you want to make memories with me before you go, Daddy? [Bites her lower lip as she starts grinding on him, desperate for attention]

Elias: Hmm.. [His cock stiffens as she rests on it. He nods as he undoes the knot and reveals her full and tanned breasts] Mon dieu.. [Pushes up her dress so it bunches around her waist with her tits out] God, you’re so fucking sexy, Emme.. [Growls as he pulls her panties roughly down her thick ass and forces them down her legs] What do you want me to remember, baby? [Rubs her little pink pussy]

Emme: [Grinds her thick ass on him while he reveals her breasts. Her movement causes her tits to bounce as she feels his hardened cock against her pussy] I’m going to miss you so much, Daddy.. [Loves the way he admires her body before laughing sultrily as he hastily removes her panties] Mmngh! [Whines as he teases her already wet cunt. She takes his hand away and sucks on his digits] I want to remember you by the way that you cum in me, Daddy. [Parts her lips and sticks out her tongue, wanting his fingers to play with her little whore mouth] But I don’t want you to cum in my pussy.. [Trails off as her ass rubs his cock]

Elias: Oh my fucking god. [Groans as she sucks his digits and acts so hungry for him] Fuck.. you know how much I love fucking that tight ass, Emme. [His eyes roll back at the thought of her tight walls gripping his dick] Hm.. [Grinds her wet pussy on him to lubricate his cock] Mngh.. [He likes her aggressive nature and he remains on his back, wanting to see how she leads him]

Emme: [Nods her head as she drags her tongue all over his fingers, feigning innocence while his words causes her body to ache] Ungh.. Daddy’s cock is so hard for me.. [Eyes roll back as she rolls her hips, sliding her pussy lips up and down his length] Do you want to fuck the little cock whore that you love so much? [Tilts her head before turning around as she gives him a full view of her ass, his cock resisting between her cheeks] Hmm? [Asks as she lifts herself up and spits on his cock. She jerks him off and slaps his length against her pussy before slowly lowering herself onto his cock, taking him into her very tight little ass] Ooh.. do you like being teased, Daddy?

Elias: Oui, baby.. I love you. [Murmurs as he sees her full ass, gripping her flesh as it strokes his cock] Emme! [Whines as she spits on him, his eyes roll back as she teases him with her hands] Hmm. I like being inside you more. [Growls as she takes him inside, breathless at how tight she is] Merde.. [His face contorts in pleasure as she squeezes his dick] Fuck.. I love fucking this ass. [Forces her up and down his dick]

Emme: [Goosebumps appears on her flesh as she hears his growl. She bounces her ass on his swollen tip before rolling her hips while he forces her to take his cock deeper] Mmm.. Daddy, it hurts when you force me to take that cock up my ass.. [Whines harshly, her room being filled with the sound of her thick ass repeatedly taking his dick. Slapping his hands away, she gets on her feet and places her hands on his thighs for support—making it easier and quicker to fuck him] Ughh! Spank me, Daddy! Do it while your chatonne fucks you.

Elias: [Groans as she’s so aggressive, never having seen this side of her] Emme.. [Is overwhelmed by how good she fucks him. He slaps her hard, his large hand leaving a red mark on her ass] Oh fuck you’re going to make me cum, baby.. [Watches as his cock fucks her tight asshole] Mngh.. [Lets himself cum inside her] Shit baby..

Emme: Agh! S’il vous plaît, Daddy! [Cries out as he smacks her ass harshly. She takes his entire length inside of her, trying to overcome the slight pain as she rolls her hips in quick movements] Cum in my asshole, Daddy. I want this memory. [Pleads desperately as she leans forward, using her hips as she fucks him relentlessly] Ooh! Oui! I need it! [Smiles sinfully as his warm cum coats her walls. She clenches tightly to squeeze every drop out of him before moving off] Tell me I’m the little slut you love, Daddy. [Turns to face him as she kisses his chest, catching her breath in the process]

Elias: [Brings her to him and kisses her deeply] You’re the little slut I love, baby. [Murmurs before he slides her up his body and lets her sit on his face] Is this pussy mine? [Sucks on her little clit as he grips her ass, meaning at her taste] Mn..

Emme: [Eagerly meets his lips as she slips her tongue into his mouth] Mmm.. I love hearing you say that. [Absolutely melts for him before he surprises her as he lifts her up] Daddy, what are you doing? [Parts her lips as an amused smile appears on her lips, feeling lustful and insatiable] Ughhh.. Daddy, you know it is.. [Grips her bed frame as she melts into his tongue] It’s your pussy, Daddy.. You own it. [Features contort into a look of pleasure as he gives her clit all the attention] How does your chatonne taste? [Asks weakly as she rubs her pussy lips all over his mouth, bouncing slowly as she aches to have his tongue inside of her]

Elias: [He really loves how they know each other so well, as she tells him what he wants to hear. He fucks her pussy by shoving his tongue inside her before pulling it out to roughly flick her clit] I love you. [Mumbles against her cunt]

Emme: [Feels the tension building inside of her as he skillfully fucks her with his tongue. She pulls his hair with her other hand, keeping him against her cunt as she grinds] I need you.. I always need you, Daddy. [Gasps the words as she loses control from hearing him declare his love] I love you. I fucking love you. [Her clit pulses violently as her wetness coats his mouth and chin, body thrashing above him as she can’t keep still] Mon dieu.. Mmngh! [Thighs quiver as she cums hard for him, trying to pull away from his mouth]

Elias: [Forcefully keeps her against his face as she cums for him, lapping up her juices as his fingers dig into the flesh of her ass] Hmm.. [Moans as he torments her, his eyes looking up at her from between her legs]

Emme: Daddy! [Whimpers harshly as he doesn’t stop eating her out. She’s pushed over her breaking point as juices flow out of her, causing her to buck her hips against his face] You’re being mean.. [Shivers run down her spine as she tries to move away from his mouth. Seeing him between her legs, she moves back and leans down to kiss him hungrily] I know you’re not all mine but I love you. [Speaks as she drags her tongue all over his lips]

Elias: [Lets her kiss him, keeping up lazily] Mngh.. I love you too. [Wraps his arms around her and scratches her scalp] The two weeks will go by fast. [Rubs her back] You’re sexy, Emme.. [Muses as he caresses her ass]

Emme: [Wipes his lips with her finger before sucking of the taste] For you it will.. but for me it’s going to be agony. [Sulks before inhaling the scent of his neck] Are you sure it’s not just my ass that you love? [Grins as she playfully shakes it while he touches her]

Elias: [Laughs at her words] I’m sure. [Leans in to kiss her] I won’t have my phone on me much.. but I’ll try to text here and there. [Tells her as he kisses her forehead]

Emme: [Returns his kiss before frowning as she has no choice but to accept it] I’ll just have to send you pictures of my pussy so that you’ll pay attention to your phone. [Smiles mischievously as she’s cheekier than she used to be]

Elias: [bites his lip] you’re naughty now that you know I love you. [Pouts as he looks up at her]

Emme: [Giggles softly before leaning down to kiss his pout] Oui, I am. [Her heart swells as she cuddles him] I’ll miss you so much, Daddy. [Kisses his forehead and then his eyelids before running her fingers through his sandy blonde hair]

Elias: I’ll miss you too, Mon Chatonne.. [Takes in her affection, loving it so much] You really won’t fuck that old professeur..?

Emme: [Like a little kitten, she purrs against his neck while taking in his scent] Non, Daddy. I won’t fuck him. [Looks into his eyes as he speaks, her heart and body belonging to him]

Elias: [Beams as he hears her words] You’re so good to me, Emme. [Holds her tightly] I’m going to love you until you force me to let you go. [Murmurs into her hair, feeling sad that she will probably move on from him]

Emme: [Pulls back as she tilts her head at him, slightly confused by his words] What would force you to let me go, Daddy? [Bites her lower lip as the thought of losing him now that he loves her puts her at more risk of getting her heart broken]

Elias: You’re so young.. you’ll outgrow me. [Murmurs as he looks at her] You’ll find something better. [Thinks he really has nothing to offer] I have nothing to give you but my tips and love. [Frowns]

Emme: [Blinks as he catches her off guard with his words. She’s surprised as she sees an insecure side to him but it only makes her love him more] Daddy, I won’t find anyone better than you.. [Trails off before parting her lips as she doesn’t seem to understand him] Why are you saying this? [Pouts as she cups his face] Even without the tips, I would love you. [Swallows] Even without your love.. I would still love you.. [Lowers her eyes as she’s completely head over heels for him]

Elias: [Swallows as hell hears her words] You’re sweet, and good. [Scratches her scalp] I told you before I think the world is at your feet. [Cups her face] You’re too good for me. I know that. [Wrinkles his nose] That’s why I didn’t want to tell you how I feel.. I didn’t want to hold you back.

Emme: [Her features are soft as she listens to his every word. It makes her heart swell to think that he believes in her, it makes her think of her maman] You’re not holding me back, Daddy. S’il vous plaît, don’t say stuff like this.. [Pouts as she doesn’t believe anything will happen for her] I want you. Nothing you say or do is going to change my mind, Daddy. Nothing. [Leans in as she pours her love into a passionate kiss, wanting him to taste her love]

Elias: [Stares at her as she speaks, his chest aching as he can feel the devotion he doesn’t think he deserves] Je’taime.. [Murmurs before she kisses him, returning it with as much vigor] You promise?

Emme: [Moans into their kiss as her body feels like it only belongs to him] Oui, Daddy. I promise. [Whispers sweetly before kissing the tip of his nose] Please don’t forget me.. It will hurt if you do.

Elias: I’m never forgetting you, Emme. [Shakes his head as he tells the truth] I write about you in my journal. [Confesses]

Emme: [Trusts him without hesitation before blushing deeply] You do? I thought you only wrote about your clients.. [Bites her lip as her journal only seems to be about him] What does it say?

Elias: I did.. until you. [Admits as he looks at her from the corner of his eyes] That’s a secret. [Pouts] Do you want to take everything from me today? [Teases]

Emme: [Blushes deeply as she kisses the bridge of his nose] Hmph. Why? [Returns the pouty look before playfully biting his lower lip] Oui. I do. I’m selfish now. [Grins as her dimple appears] I write about you too, Daddy. [Whispers into his ear]

Elias: [Blinks as he hears her] Really? [Cocks a brow] What do you write? [Pouts, curious now]

Emme: [Squints her eyes before shaking her head] That’s not fair, Daddy. You didn’t tell me. [Teases before going to her bedside table as she takes out her journal] Don’t look.. [Flips to a few pages before finding a short one] “Daddy came in my ass today.” [Says in a serious tone before giggling] I’m joking. [Grins] “Elias Dubois.. mon desir.. Says that he doesn’t feel things but he I can see that he has a heart.. I want to be his.”

Elias: When have I ever been a fair person? [Watches as she pulls it out, trying to catch a glimpse even though she tells him not to. He suddenly laughs at her joke] Very imaginative. [Rolls his eyes playfully before he softens as he hears her words] When did you write that..?

Emme: What can I say? I’m a poet. [Banters with an amused smile] A week after we met. [Bites her lip before closing the journal as she holds it against her chest]

Elias: [Is amused that she knew so quickly and it took him so long to realize what he felt] You’re cute. [Tries to steal the journal]

Emme: [Gasps as he tries to take it from her] Ha! You’re cute too. [Mocks him playfully as she quickly tries to hide the journal under the bed]

Elias: [Sulks as she takes it away] Not everything in there is nice, is it? [Wrinkles his nose but he wonders what she’s written about her regular client, feeling slightly jealous]

Emme: [Moves back to him as she lays on top of his chest, tapping the tip of his nose] What do you mean? [Asks softly as she doesn’t want him to read her entries from when she felt heartbroken or sad that he didn’t feel the same way]

Elias: About me. [Looks up at her] Or you’ve written dirty things about other men.. [Averts her eyes as he sulks]

Emme: Daddy.. [Almost explains that she doesn’t have anything bad about him before tilting her head as he mentions other men] Is my Daddy jealous? [Finds it endearing as she bats her long lashes at him. She moves into his arms and kisses his cheek. Her journal is filed with filthy things about him] I think it’s your turn to tell me what you’ve written. It’s not fair.

Elias: [Sulks even more as she teases him, mumbling under his breath] Je suis desolee.. I don’t have it with me. [Shrugs as he eyes her with a smile]

Emme: [Stares into his piercing eyes as she purses her lips] Are you lying to me, Daddy?

Elias: Non. [Tells her the truth as he just came to see her and packed his journal for his trip] Maybe one day I’ll read you an entry. [Chuckles]

Emme: What do you mean “maybe”? [Scowls before sighing heavily as she realizes he has to leave soon. Sitting up she ties the front of her dress and puts her panties back on] Should I want with you to the lobby or will she be waiting for you?

Elias: [Shakes his head] I have to grab my things and then come back down. [Tells her as she gets dressed. He does the same and fixes himself] I’ll see you in two weeks, Mon Chatonne. [Cups her face and kisses her]

Emme: [Notices that he doesn’t mention the woman as she simply nods her head and sighs] Don’t forget this feeling between us. [Speaks softly as she fixes his hair before returning his kiss] I love you, Daddy. [Kisses him again before seeing him to the door, already aching as she tries not to feel jealous]

Elias: [Wraps his arms around her] I could never forget. I love you. [Kisses her forehead] I asked Declan to transfer some more money into your account since I’ll be gone. [Bites his lip] Au revoir, Mon Chatonne. [Hesitantly leaves and gathers his things to meet Vivien]

[princessplantasaurus]

A Part 2

Part two of this

Quentin Beck x Female OC Sometime after Iron Man 2 but before Age of Ultron (but we’re getting closer to Ultron now) OBVIOUSLY spoilers for Spider-Man: Far From Home

Content warning: alcohol, strong language, LOTS of sexuality including vaginal fingering, hair pulling, blowjobs, voyeurism, insertional intercourse  Previously:  So more often than not, she did her best to pretend it never happened. Pretend her only contact with him was that day in the break room. Which would’ve been made much easier, if he wasn’t suddenly taking all his breaks at the same time she was, eyes always on her, as if studying her every move. In a way, it was degrading, and yet...it was almost exhilarating. Like a game of cat and mouse. And god, did she ever want him to pounce on her already. But Beck was still waiting, still calculating. He was going to pounce, but the moment, of course, had to catch her off guard.

This didn’t make the weeks leading up to the company Christmas party any less stressful for Veronica. Of course, the holidays were a stressful enough time on their own, without the constant thoughts of Beck in the back of her mind. So when the night of the party did roll around, Veronica’s only plan for the evening was drinking just enough that things got blurry and then finally letting go, relaxing, having a good time.

This plan got spoiled before she even had a chance to finish her first flute of champagne. Swaggering up with a flute of champagne in each of his hands, Quentin raised an eyebrow at her glass, taunting “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

Eyebrows knitting in confusion, she questioned “What are you-”

She was cut off by the gesture of him outstretching an arm, wiggling the champagne flute enough to get her attention, but not enough so that any of the drink spilled. “Here. It’s for you. I got it for you.”

Veronica glanced carefully between her drink and the one in his hand, up to him, and then back to her own drink. Acting on impulse and deciding it best to trust him, she quickly downed what was left of her initial drink, before coyly questioning “Are you trying to get me drunk?” while taking the second drink out of his hand.

“Maybe.” he smirked, but in such a way that only one side of his mouth twitched upwards. Bringing his eyes away from her for the first time since he made his way over, he took a sip of his own, carefully glancing back out into the sea of partying Stark employees, before he questioned “You still sleeping with Stark?”

With a huff, she snapped her head towards him, stating clearly and aggressively “I never was. And I’m still not.”

The sideways glance he gave her was cautious, calculated, and reeked of curiosity “Potts? Didn’t tag you as playing for that team.”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone.” she corrected, with a roll of her eyes, but it was jovial. Unlike the last time they’d spoken, this didn’t seem serious, not a legitimate accusation of her character. Two coworkers joking around, shooting the breeze.

“No one at all, huh?” he questioned, before giving her the classic once over, biting down on his lip before pretending he hadn’t just made such an obvious move, shrugging as he looked back out to the party, mumbling “What a shame.” as his champagne got closer to his lips.

Cheeks flushing intensely, Veronica managed to stutter out “Excuse me?!?”

“I’m just saying” Quentin shrugged casually. “I’m sure a lot of people at this company would gladly trade promotional favors for sexual ones if you were the one offering.”

“Why do I have to be sleeping with someone to get ahead in the company in this scenario?” she questioned “Can’t I just be sleeping with someone cause I’m attracted to them? No strings attached?”

In retrospect, Quentin sitting his drink down and actively walking away from it should’ve been her first clue to where the rest of the night was headed. With a shake of his head a low chuckle, he countered “Oh no, sweetie, that opens up your sexual availability to the likes of me, and you don’t want that.”

“What makes you think you know what I want?” she teased, batting her eyelashes, still assuming this was all a game “Maybe I want that. Maybe I want you.”

With a breathy exhale of “You shouldn’t have said that”, suddenly Veronica’s senses were flooded with nothing but Quentin. Quentin’s hands on her face, his cologne in her nostrils, his beard just lightly scratching the area around her mouth, how surprisingly soft and wet and warm his lips were, the moan he let escape as she dropped her drink, letting her hands rake through his hair, kissing him back just as passionately and urgently as he kissed her.

And then...then they were in a cab. She couldn’t remember when they left, where they were going or how they got there. She remembered still being at the party when his tongue slipped inside her mouth the first time, and then...a lustful haze...and then Quentin’s predatory growls of pleasure as he bit at her neck, hand up her skirt and clawing at her thigh, brushing the silk of her panties just often enough to elicit a sharp gasp.

All it took was his other hand, the one that had been cradling her neck, to slip farther down as he attempted to fondle her breast as best as possible given that her dress was still covering her up, for her to finally break. “MMMM! Fuck!” she cried, causing him to cease the trail of hickeys he was leaving on her neck, lifting his head up to look at her as she whimpered “I need...please…”

Lifting both hands, and practically glowing in the shock that caused her, he touched her again, but only with one finger, to tilt her head to look him in the eye “What do you need, Veronica?”

“I need you…”

“Need me to what?” he continued to play dumb, but in such an obvious way that it was impossible for her to misunderstand why. He was loving every second of this.

“T-touch…”

“I’m already touching you, Veronica. Did you want me to touch you somewhere else?”

“You know…” she whined.

“But I don’t.” he shrugged. “You’ll have to tell me.”

She really didn’t want to say it. The cab driver could hear her. Having gone as far as they had with someone else present was already voyeuristic enough. But he was locking those beautifully blue eyes with hers, wide and full of feigned naivety, nodding at her to go on. “My pussy.” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“Do what with your pussy?” he questioned. “Use your words, Veronica. Full sentence. Come on.”

“I want you to finger my pussy, Quentin,” she hissed “fuck.”

“Is that all?” he smirked, lifting her skirt back up and sneaking his hand up and under the silk undergarment, rubbing it gently, at first, as Veronica threw her head back in pleasure. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Just gotta ask for what you want, honey. I’ll give it to you.”

And with that, he did give it to her. One finger, at first, just to gauge her reaction, but then pulled out and reentered with two. “I didn’t take you for such a whore, Veronica. Good girls don’t like getting fingered in the back of a dirty cab. But you’re not a good girl, are you?” he paused, as if to see if she was going to argue, but the only noises she made were her laboured breathing and a lot of short cries of pleasure as fingers continued to thrust inside of her. “No, you’re my little whore. Say it. Say you’re mine, whore.”

“Quentin…” she moaned, as she felt it was all she could do.

“Come on,” he urged. “Full sentences, remember?”

“I’m your little whore” she whimpered, almost crying from just how close she was to release, and just how good he was at edging her there.

And then she felt it. His other hand rubbing against her clit. God, she was close. She could literally feel it coming. Any second now. 

“Mmmm, good job.” he smirked.

And Veronica hated to admit that his praise is what did her in, but it did.

And thank goodness, because as she began to come down from her climax, the cab slowed to a stop. As she sat back up and yanked her skirt back down, she saw Quentin pay the driver, and assumed that this was, in fact, their stop. She opened the door to find that they were in Battery Park City, in front of one of the neighbourhood’s more modest looking apartment complexes.

As the taxi drove away, Quentin pulled keys out of his pocket, and then wrapped his arm around her waist with his free hand. “You’ve got to have your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

She giggled with excitement as he lead into the building, climbing the stairs to the second floor. The top of the stairwell, he decided was as good of place as any to kiss the hell out of her again, and Veronica wasn’t exactly resisting. Letting his lips travel south to her jaw, and then her neck, he mumbled “I don’t know if I can make it to my apartment.”

And as much as there was a very active part of Veronica’s brain that wanted to agree and let him take her right then and there in the stairwell, she had also already been fingered to climax in the back of a cab, and she didn’t want to make a habit of the whole public thing, god forbid she might discover that it had awakened something. “How far is your place?” she asked, the fingers previously combing through his hair giving a slight tug.

“Four doors down.” he admitted.

“That’s not far,” she reasoned. “And then you can do whatever you want to me.”

He chuckled, almost darkly, as he countered “I was planning on that anyway, sweets.”

And with a sudden yank of her hand, they were in the hallway, in front of his door, his hand only leaving hers to fumble with his keys, but as soon as the door was open, his hands were on her waist, the door was slammed behind them, and he’d somehow managed to sandwich her against it. Lips and tongues mixing in hot, desperate movements, as Quentin did his best to try and get her dress off of her. Problem being that the zipper to that garment was on her back that he’d slammed against his front door.

Pulling away from their sloppy wet kisses, he muttered “Jesus Christ, am I going to have to rip this thing off with my teeth?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she teased, breathlessly, before sliding out from under him and unzipping the back. “This was expensive though.”

With a smirk accompanied by a borderline predatory gaze, he conceded “I can work with that.”

And suddenly, she hit his mattress with a soft thud, Quentin hovering over her, yanking the dress off of her body, his own shirt gone and his pants unzipped. “Fuck,” he muttered, seeming almost genuinely upset “You really weren’t wearing a bra this whole time?”

“It’s a strapless dress.” she stated, as though it was an obvious forgone conclusion.

“You really are a whore.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond, as he was back to kissing her, now happily letting his hands knead her breasts, chuckling deliciously in the delight he took in hearing the high and sharp “mmm!” she made when his thumbs ran over her nipples, languidly flicking them back and forth. 

“You like that?” he smirked, pulling away. 

Veronica nodded, almost helplessly, and squirmed in pleasure as he lightly booped her nose, assuring her “We’re gonna have a lot fun tonight, honey.”

Before she had time to think about what was happening, she was flipped onto her stomach, Quentin having discarded his pants, working now on removing the panties he’d been so happily playing under not so long ago. “You were so wet when I was fingering you in that cab, Veronica.” he practically purred, lifting her legs around his torso like a wheelborrow. “Slippery job, getting you off. Can you do that again for me? Can you drip all over cock?”

“Wait,” she muttered, turning her head around best she could, her voice clearer and more assured as she asked “Are you hard already?”

She got her answer in the form of Quentin shoving his entire dick inside of her. “Fuck,” he gasped “you’re so tight. You’re such a small thing, Hansen.” 

She wasn’t sure which shocked her more, the sudden slap to her ass as he continued to thrust into her, or the sudden realization that it was the first time she’d heard Beck voice her last name. 

Doing her best to meet his thrusts and match his rhythm (being taken from behind was throwing her off her game), she caught even herself off guard as her back completely arched when, after curling her hair around his fist, Quentin gave the copper tresses a pull. Voice slightly ragged from the physical exertion of pounding into her pussy, his lips were suddenly at her ear, muttering “I think about pulling your hair every single time you pull it into a ponytail in the break room. Taunting me. And now every time you do it, you’re going to think about me, aren’t you? You’re going to think about how good that felt.”

And for a moment, she was back in the break room, tying her hair up, with Quentin watching her. Always watching her so intently. But now she imagined a devious gleam in his eye, a knowing smile. With another yank of her hair she was brought back to the bedroom, back to reality, back to his lips still at her ear, his breath hot, his breathing getting more and more irregular as his thrusts became more and more sporadic. “Fuck,” he muttered, surprisingly gently, before suddenly lifting himself farther from her, pulling his dick out.

Veronica watched in confusion as he climbed off the bed, before he pointed to the carpet, stating “on your knees.”

Apparently, her slow blink in horny confusion wasn’t a fast enough response for him, because suddenly he was pulling her hair again, but in a much less sexy way, as he barked “I said ON YOUR KNEES, Veronica! What part of that are you having trouble with?!?”

She obliged this time, moving as quickly as possible. Of course, she knew what he wanted. She took just the tip in her mouth at first, glancing up as she bobbed back and forth, slowly pushing a little more into her mouth each time. She glanced up, cautiously, but as his eyes rolled back in his head it seemed like whatever caused that outburst had dissipated. He was enjoying it, bucking his hips towards her, needily. There was a shuddered gasp of her name, and then pulling out, quickly, to try and aim to cum on her tits. “That’s my Veronica,” he praised “That’s my good girl.”

She wasn’t about to admit it, but there was something inherently arousing about being covered in his jizz. As he flopped himself back onto the bed, sitting this time, she remained on the floor, slowly but surely massaging the cum by fondling her own breasts. Each of her tits in one of her hands, she moved them up and down, gently rubbing against each other, quickening in pace. She was almost ready to start grinding her clit against the carpet of his bedroom, but as she let out a small moan of pleasure, Quentin’s eyes flickered back to her, and his sudden moan was a lot louder than hers.

“You really are just a sick little slut, aren’t you?” he questioned, moving, not to touch her, but to start stroking his own dick, watching her. With an almost lazy smirk, he added “Perfect for a sick little guy like me.”

She would’ve blushed if her cheeks weren’t already flushed from her own arousal, as she nodded, looking up to him, making eye contact as she let one of her hands drop to her clit.

Immediately, Quentin’s hand was on her arm. “No no no, don’t do that.” his voice was hushed. “Both hands on your tits. Please.”

“But-”

“You need to get off.” he finished automatically, before tapping his thigh, inviting her up. “Come on. Get up here.”

“You sure?” she questioned, standing back up.

He nodded, letting go of his erection, using both hands to grab her by the waist and pull her onto him. “You’re my little whore, remember? I gotta take care of you. And you,” he paused, taking her hand in his, leading it to his cock, making her stroke it “Got to take care of this. This is your fault. You made it show up. Now take care of it,” his eyes widened, in a way she wasn’t sure was playful or not, as he lustfully whispered “whore.”

For a moment, she was content to tease him, continuing to rub his dick, brushing her thumb over the tip now and again to hear him groan. But while he’d gotten off to her mouth just a few minutes ago, she hadn’t gotten off since the taxi over. She didn’t make him wait too long before climbing onto his dick, riding it quickly, deeply, mewling and moaning in how good it felt all the while. 

Beck was quick to buck against her, quickly capturing her lips in his again, now that they were facing each other. Bringing his lips down to leave a slobbery trail across her jaw, his beard scratching at her neck, the sensation only heightening every thrust, every other touch. 

Veronica’s head fell against his, foreheads touching, with a soft whimper of “Quentin…”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered breathlessly. “Tell me I’m the only one who makes you feel like this.”

“Quentin, I’m-mmmm!” 

He didn’t get to hear what he wanted, but he did get the next best thing, as the warm wet walls of her vagina clenched and tightened around his cock, Veronica riding out her climax while still on top of him. Her fingernails digging into shoulders, he felt his own push, doubling up in speed for the next few seconds before he completely poured out inside of her.

“Did you…?”

“I’ll pay for the Plan B, don’t worry.” he assured her, before throwing himself back onto his bed, finally lying down. Waiting for her head to hit the mattress next to him, he turned to her as she did, smirking “So good, right?”

Nodding, eyelids falling from exhaustion and exertion, she echoed. “Good. Really good.”

He nodded back, licking his lips slowly, before finally questioning “Better than Stark?”

“I’m still not sleeping with him.” she droned monotonously.  A small, genuine smile crept up on his lips, as he found himself murmuring “Good.”

[foxyotomelady]

Another love, Chapter XIV (JuminxReader)

Author’s notes:

It's the last chapter :( I feel so empty ;-; This story was different from the previous ones. For some reason, I got attached to it. Maybe because it was longer than the previous ones - and at the beginning, I didn't plan so many chapters!

BUT, I already have an idea for another story, lol. I don't know where these ideas come from, my head's just spitting out one after another. I'm planning the next story to be a slow burn, but we'll see... This one was supposed to be a slow burn too, and we landed in Jumin's arms quite quickly, lol. This guy... He's hard to resist.

Thank you to everyone who followed this story, liked it, and reblogged it. Your reactions make me feel like writing more <3 I even used to write at work, so... 

We will all miss you, Yoon T-T

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV (You are here) |

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A few days have passed since the unfortunate conversation with Jumin's father. He obviously didn't show how much this situation affected him, but you knew him too well. You saw anxiety in his slightly less controlled movements, including how he massaged his temples when you were drinking wine together in the evening. In his seemingly steel look, in the depth of which was sadness. Today you decided to visit him in the office. You've never done this before, you didn't want to bother him with your person while he was working. However, it was different now - you knew he would need your presence to relax. Of course, you traveled to his company building with Yoon. When Driver Kim came for you, Yoon wanted to sit in the bodyguard seat separated from the last one, but you convinced him to join you. He didn't speak for most of the way, unlike you - you felt at ease with him, so you were chattering like crazy. "Ms. Y/N," Yoon said suddenly, interrupting your tale of how you are happy that Elizabeth the 3rd is again at home. "Is Mr. Han planning to fire me by any chance? Again?"

You blinked, "What? Why?" Yoon scratched his cheek, "You know, miss... Last time Mr. Han did not look pleased that I saw you in a fairly immodest state." You couldn't help but giggled, "I'm sorry, it's my fault, but don't worry. You can always count on me. I will never let Jumin fire you." Yoon sighed, "Thank you, miss, you are too good to me. I am glad that Mr. Han is starting to act differently towards you, more... healthy." "Yes, Jumin opened up and sorted out his emotions. You don't have to worry about me anymore." Jaehee was notified that you would come and even supported the idea. She apparently was also worried about Jumin. Of course, it was already clear to everyone in RFA what was between you two. You didn't just tell them that there was a time when you were locked up in Jumin's apartment... They wouldn't understand and judge him again. When you already were in the company building and said hello to Jaehee, she glanced you up and down, then sighed, "Are you here to help Mr. Han relax and focus or to distract him?" You felt your cheeks starting to burn. Well, maybe you dressed a little too defiantly... You were wearing a fairly tight red dress, which exposed your back in the cut almost to your very bottom. Well... You may have exaggerated with it a bit! Jaehee adjusted her glasses, "Well, let's go. What could go wrong?" She knocked on Jumin’s office door when you were there, "Mr. Han, you have a guest." "Enter, please." When you came in, Jumin looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. Astonishment appeared on his face, "Y/N?" "Hello, Jumin. I hope I'm not disturbing you." "Of course not. I am very happy to see you here." Jaehee cleared her throat, said goodbye and left quickly. "I have a lot of work, but your presence will only help me," Jumin smiled at you sincerely. You approached him and when he returned to work on the documents, you stood behind him and began to gently massage his shoulders. He was really tense, you could feel it in his muscles. Fortunately, he slowly relaxed under your fingers. "You are an angel," Jumin said, and you embraced his neck and leaned down to lean your head onto his shoulder. "But you look like a devil today. Did you do it on purpose?" "Maybe," You muttered in his ear. "And you said I'm the sly one?" "Hmm... Let's say we are worth each other." Jumin turned his face towards you and kissed your cheek, "If I didn't have so much work, I could do something very inappropriate in this office." "Mr. Han!" Jaehee suddenly burst into the office. Seeing you two so close together and you clinging to Jumin from behind, she stopped with 'I'm so done with this job, can't I change it?' expression on her face. You straightened up a bit ashamed, and Jumin said in his stoic voice, "Is something the matter, Assistant Kang?" "Saeran just sent me something important regarding Sarah and Glam. I printed it for you, sir." Jaehee went to the desk and left a few pages on it. Jumin spread the documents on the desk so that you could both see the content. You did not want to know how Saeran got to such documents, but there was information from the hospital confirming that Glam and Sarah were sisters! The second page said the same thing, but it came from some sort of state documentation. The last page contained some old articles about Glam previous husband, who she has left as soon as his company went bankrupt. You felt chills, put a hand on Jumin's shoulder, and he covered it with his own, "This is very useful information, but I don't know if the documents alone are enough to convince my father. Assistant Kang, inform Sarah and Glam that I want to eat dinner with them. I have to talk to Luciel to give me some recording device. I will have these women confessing in front of me. "

Jumin's POV

The place in the restaurant of his choice in his building was already prepared. The recording device was located under the table. Jumin greeted the two women with an artificial smile, even pushed back the chair for Glam, but did not manage to do the same for Sarah. He hated her too much after what she did to  Y/N.

"Oh, thank you, it's so kind of you," Glam squeaked in her annoying voice.

Jumin adjusted his cuffs and sat down at the table opposite women.

"Well, I'm not stupid," Sarah said, with obvious distrust in her voice. "Why did you bring us here?"

Glam hissed at her, "Be more polite, girl. I'm sure Jumin talked to his father and changed his mind about your wedding at last, didn't he?"

"Before we start dinner," Jumin, instead of answering Glam's stupid question, pulled out the documents on the table, "Please, read this."

Both women studied the documents for a long time and paled from second to second.

"Where did you get it from?" Sarah muttered.

"It doesn't matter. However, I think this information will appeal to my father."

"No!" Glam growled. "You can't show him that!"

Sarah shrugged, regained her confidence, "Let him show this to his father. This old man will believe everything you tell him, sister. He even believed that that Y/N girl came up with kidnapping to frame me. He's a fool. These documents are no threat for us. "

Jumin smiled to himself. It was going better than he expected. He didn't think Sarah will tell her secrets so soon - but she was an arrogant and stupid girl.

"These documents come from credible sources, so I think my father will think about them seriously," Jumin continued. "As for the abduction, Sarah. I think he'll think it over again. If you hid from him the fact that you are sisters and that Glam was with her previous husband until his company collapsed, he will stop trusting you two."

Sarah's expression sharpened, and Glam bit her lip. Both were silent.

"I think it just got to you. You are no longer in a winning position," Jumin looked at the women coldly. "I have an offer for you. Something for something."

"Something for something?" Glam asked, interested. "Good, because I'm not going to give up without gaining anything."

"You wanted only one thing from the beginning. Money. You, Glam, my father's money. And you, Sarah, my money. So you'll get it."

The women looked at each other, suddenly pleased. Jumin could hardly believe how dumb and shallow they were.

"So," Glam insisted. "What is your offer?"

"It's simple. Promise me that you will leave my father, me and Y/N alone. That you will never come close to us again, that you will disappear from our lives. I can offer you three million for it. Is that enough?"

Both women's faces lit up. They both looked so comical. Their eyes glowed with profit desire.

"Of course that's enough!" Sarah exclaimed cheerfully but then added, "Well, for a while."

Jumin nodded, "Okay. I will not agree to support you for the rest of my life, because that is what I want to avoid, pushing you away from my family. But when you run out of money, I can promise you will get another three million. I think I'm too generous anyway."

Sarah chuckled, "Is this really happening?"

"I just have enough of you, and this is the easiest way to get rid of you. This solution is beneficial to both sides." The waiters just brought the ordered food and poured the wine into glasses. Jumin raised one towards the women, smiled, "So? Do we have a deal?"

Of course, he had no intention of fulfilling any of the promises he had just made.

The next day, Jumin invited his father to a meeting in his office. He wanted Y/N to accompany him. Now they were both sitting at the low table that was prepared for the guests, opposite his father. Jumin played the recording. His father's face expressed increasing shock and sadness when more and more evidence came to his ears not only that both women had manipulated him, wanted his money, but also actually stood behind the Y/N's kidnapping. Jumin was silent when the recording finally stopped. He waited for his father to speak. Y / N squeezed his hand, which gave him comfort. Although he was glad that his father had finally learned the truth, he also felt restless. He saw that his father was deeply affected by what he had just learned.

"My God..." His father ran over his hair with his fingers, his hand trembled. "All this time... You were right, my son."

Jumin sighed, "I wish I wasn't. But yes, it's all true." "I was so blind." "I can't deny it, father. But this is not the first time that the desire to have a woman has blinded you," After these words, Jumin felt as Y/N tapped his side with her elbow. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes were narrowed. Was she mad at him? For what he said? After how his father treated her, did she still want him to be nice to the old man? This girl... was really amazing. Jumin cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, father. I hope you'll find someone honest one day." His father rubbed his eyelids, and then with a visible sense of shame looked at Y/N, "I owe you a huge apology, miss. I accused you of many things, wrongly. In addition, because of my blindness towards Glam, you have been exposed to danger and you had to go through a lot. Please forgive the old man for his stupidity. " Y/N nodded, "Apology accepted." Jumin felt something fall from his shoulders. Suddenly he felt lighter, and the threads wrapped around his head loosened its grip. "Now, when I look at the scars on your wrists," His father continued, "I can't believe I accused you of planning all this." Jumin gently covered the scar on Y/N's wrist with his hand. For some strange reason, he didn't want anyone to look at it. "Father," He said, "will you do something for me now that you know all this? I know you had an impact on what sentence Sarah got. I want to resume the trial. And I want to ask you to testify. The recording I got will also go to court as evidence. " His father's face became serious. He nodded, "Of course. What's more, this time I will make sure that the bodyguards Sarah bribed also testify and confess everything." "Thank you." The old man looked at Y/N again, smiled sadly, "You are lucky, son. Now I really see it. You found someone who really loves you."

Two weeks later

Your POV

Sarah's trial was swift, with all new evidence and influence of Jumin's father, it went easy. Sarah received a 10-year prison sentence and a large fine. Yuwoon's sentence was also changed - to life imprisonment. Jumin's father, of course, broke off all contacts with Glam and made sure that the media find out how cunning she is.

You've been living in a new apartment for a week. Your place was on the top floor of a guarded apartment building. Jumin, of course, made sure your neighborhood is safe. At first, you didn't want to agree to his idea - you couldn't afford to rent such an expensive apartment, and you didn't want to accept Jumin's money. But after a long conversation - that was your first real fight - you agreed to his help, at least until you found the right job. Jumin also insisted that you feel free to ask Yoon for help if you need extra protection. The building had its own bodyguards, but Jumin didn't trust them as much as his employees.

Today is finally the day when you were supposed to go out with Jumin... You were excited like a kid, you had butterflies in your stomach. It amused you - after all the time you spent in his apartment, after the intense nights spent together, you were nervous now as if you were going on your first date! Well, it was your first date with him. You wondered if Jumin felt the same...

The doorbell rang. You quickly corrected the creases of the dress - one of the ones Jumin bought you, you wanted to please him, so you put it on. You ran to the door, your spike heels tapping on the floor. You let Jumin in, giggling silly. He was looking at you with an equally dorky smile.

"It's quite a fun and unusual feeling... Take you on a date," He stated and took your hands.

"Right? I feel like a child at Christmas."

"Yes, you described exactly how I feel."

You started giggling again and covered your face with your hand, "I can't stop laughing, I'm sorry."

"You look wonderful. I think I should start with that," Jumin stated with a gentle look. "And I have something for you."

You watched Jumin reach into his pocket. He took out a red box from it and gave it to you. You blinked and opened it slowly. Inside were silked red ribbons.

"Ribbons?" You raised your eyebrows, not really understanding.

Jumin carefully removed the box from your hands, pulled out one of the ribbons, "Give me your hand."

You did as he ordered, and he gently tied the ribbon on your wrist, covering the scar with it. Then he asked for your other hand and repeated the action.

"This way, no one else will look at these scars," Jumin raised your hands and kissed your one and then your other wrist.

Butterflies in your stomach fluttered like crazy. You reached for Jumin's face with your hands, stood on your toes and kissed him tenderly.

"That's... so like you," You giggled.

"You don't like it?"

"You know I do."

"Recently I realized that I never told you this... Maybe it is obvious, but I would like you to hear it... I love you, Y/N."

Now you had the impression that butterflies from your belly flew straight into your heart, "I love you too, Jumin."

He pressed his forehead against yours, closed his eyes and sighed, "What a strange being you are, God knows where I would be if you hadn't found me..."*

THE END

*This sentence comes from this song, which I think perfectly reflects the relationship here between Jumin and MC/You.

I don't know how long it will be before I write the next story, but stay tuned! Because it will definitely appear one day :) To leave a small tease of what you have to prepare for, the next story will be inspired by this song. So you know... Get ready for the next drama!

And thanks again for appreciating this fanfic. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!

I love you all ;--;

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 6

We’ll Meet Again by George deValier

Sunday 26 March 1944

My Dearest Arthur,

Bonjourno! (That's Italian for hello, you know.) This letter is being sent courtesy of the Italian resistance. The world really does work in weird and wonderful ways sometimes.

Not a day after I sent my last letter to you, Matthew and I met this friendly group of Italians while visiting the local village. There we were, chatting away, when I noticed that one of them looked really familiar… it took me a moment to realise where I had seen him before. The German's photo! He was the young man with the dark eyes and the wild hair! I pulled him aside and asked if he knew a German fighter pilot named Ludwig. Oh, Arthur. The look of shock, then joy, then utter despair. He obviously knew him… and obviously knew what it meant that I knew of him as well.

His name is Feliciano, he is a part of the Italian resistance, and he speaks English really well… unlike his brother Lovino who tends to just yell at us in Italian real loud and angry like. Their grandfather (who is known as Rome) leads the movement and they are very skilled at moving Allied prisoners of war to Spain where they can then make their way home. Feliciano does not seem to be as fervent about the cause as his grandfather or his brother, but he is cheerful and sweet and seems just a little scared. When we first met him he jumped out in front of us frantically waving a small white flag and yelling "I surrender" in four different languages.

Feliciano met Ludwig while the Germans were stationed near his village and fell immediately in love. He didn't care about sides or allegiances… he just met him and loved him. And it was mutual. Feliciano is so helpful to us but he knows at the same time that I helped shoot down Ludwig and imprison him… and yet Feliciano was fighting against the Germans the whole time. It seems there are no sides when it comes to love.

The village here really is very beautiful. One day, when all of this is over, we'll come back here and see it together… without the tanks and the flattened buildings and the burning fields.

I miss you so much. I spend every day thinking about how much I can't wait to get back to you. You're the one, Arthur - the one I want to spend every day of my life with. And the longer I'm here the stronger the conviction grows. I love you. It feels so good just to be able to write the words!

Things might not be going perfectly, but I'll make sure I come back to you, Arthur. I'm the Magician, after all!

Love always, Alfred.

.

Arthur ran his hand gingerly over the letter, folded it, and placed it carefully in his top dresser drawer beside all the others. It was the last letter he had received from Alfred, arriving the morning after the heartbreaking news. The letter was dated a few days before that awful news broadcast. Alfred must have written it only hours before he was captured.

For days Arthur had tried to stop the evil thoughts which assaulted his mind; but he found it impossible. What had the SS done to Alfred? Did he talk? Did he scream? Was he scared? Or did he laugh defiantly and play the hero that he always thought he was? Arthur tried desperately to shake the fears from his head. But God, why Alfred? Why the most honest, cheerful, wonderful person he'd ever known; why the one person in the world who least deserved it?

Once again, Arthur pulled himself together and headed downstairs to work. He plastered on a smile as he walked into the pub and one of his regulars nodded to him as he passed. "How are you holding up there, old chap?"

Arthur waved a hand. "I'm fine, the doctor says it was just exhaustion."

"Ah, you work yourself too hard! Slow down or you'll make yourself ill like last time!"

Arthur laughed and nodded. He'd managed to pass off his reaction to the radio broadcast as a fainting fit brought on by overwork. Nothing more. Everyone had accepted it, and life went on.

Arthur glanced around the pub as he reached the bar. There weren't so many American soldiers around these days, much to his relief. Just the sound of an American accent was enough to pull at Arthur's heart so strongly he thought it might break. Every soldier grinning at him and asking for a bourbon tore him in two once again. Every young, green American with those stupid idealistic views and naive ideas brought back memories of Alfred and shattered the hours Arthur had spent trying to forget. But it was quiet today, and he was grateful.

Arthur got through the rest of the day the way he always did. And every day after that. And through each one, Arthur tried not to think, not to remember, not to feel. Life went on and Arthur tried to go on with it. Hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month. Everything blurred together, one day into the next. He maintained his composure and carried on the same as he always had before. He smiled at the customers. He poured the drinks. He wiped the tables. He did his job.

But everything seemed grey somehow. Arthur hadn't realised how dull life had been before Alfred. Alfred was life: vibrant and real. Though he had only been in Arthur's life a few short weeks, he had quickly become the greatest thing in it. He was sunshine and reality and beauty. And he was gone. So life went on. Dull, and grey, and empty. And though every day Arthur tried his hardest to forget, every night he pulled out that last letter and read those final paragraphs over and over, the ones he had memorised word for word.

"I miss you so much. I spend every day thinking about how much I can't wait to get back to you. You're the one, Arthur - the one I want to spend every day of my life with. And the longer I'm here the stronger the conviction grows. I love you. It feels so good just to be able to write the words!

… I'll make sure I'll come back to you, Arthur."

.

Autumn, 1944 London, England

Another evening ended the way it always did, with Arthur not quite knowing where the time had gone or what he had done with it. He busied himself cleaning and when he reached the table by the second front window, Alfred's table, he tried to wipe it down as fast as possible. After all these months, strong memory still hit him, of Alfred sitting there grinning and winking and raising his bourbon glass for another refill. Arthur tried to shake the memory away. He glanced up at the sound of the front door opening.

A jolt of shock shot through him so strongly it was almost painful. Alfred walked into the pub. Arthur's heart hammered against his chest and he clutched tightly onto the cloth in his hand. His head swam in a sudden wave of unreality. Alfred smiled sadly at him, but there was something wrong. His hair was too long. His eyes were too dark. He had a polar bear attached to his lapel. Arthur's stomach sank to his feet. He went back to wiping the table and fell back into the manner he had accustomed over the last months. Calm. Composed. Emotionless.

"Hello, Matthew."

"Hi, Arthur. How are you?"

"Bloody marvellous. How are you?"

Matthew shrugged. "About the same."

"Oh good." Arthur felt small stab of guilt for his cold welcome, but an irrational wave of anger suppressed it. Why did Alfred's friend and wingman have to come back here? Why was he here to remind Arthur, when all Arthur wanted was to forget?

"Are you just closing?" asked Matthew as he walked to the bar and looked around.

"Yes," said Arthur as he walked back to the bar and threw the cloth down onto the counter. Looking around, he realised that the pub was empty and he hadn't even noticed. He reached for the bottle of rum and poured two glasses, passing one to Matthew and swiftly downing the other. He poured himself another.

Matthew nodded in thanks as he took the glass. "I suppose you… I mean, it's been so long, you must have heard…"

"Yes," said Arthur, saving himself the pain and Matthew the unease of trying to complete that sentence.

"Oh." Matthew took a long sip of rum. "How? If you don't mind my…"

"Radio," interrupted Arthur. "One of our friend Haw Haw's informative broadcasts."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Matthew looked genuinely dismayed. "What did you hear?"

Arthur sighed deeply and took a large gulp of his rum. Did he really have to say this out loud… "Shot down. Captured barely alive. Taken by the SS to be…" Arthur choked out the last word. "…interrogated." The words were engraved in his memory.

Matthew looked down into his glass. "I'm sorry," he said again. "He went down behind enemy lines. We haven't heard anything since, but since it's been so long… there's very little hope."

Arthur nodded. He knew this. What he didn't know was why Matthew was here to voice Arthur's fears and make it so much worse.

And Matthew continued. "It was a trap. He was surrounded. But he was amazing… none of us have ever seen anything like it. He shot down seven of them. That's unheard of. He drew their fire away from the rest of us, and…"

Arthur couldn't stand it. "Is this where you tell me he was a hero who fought and died bravely and I should be very proud? I'm quite aware of that. And it isn't as though I am his widow. Perhaps you should be telling all this to his family."

There was a moment of silence as a spasm of hurt passed across Matthew's face. Arthur looked away, feeling a little guilty. "I'm sorry, Matthew."

"It's all right." Matthew stood in silence for a moment. "You know, he didn't actually have a family. He didn't have anyone. Until you." Arthur couldn't bear the words... why was Matthew still talking... "You were all he talked about. Arthur this, and Arthur that…" Matthew smiled sadly. "'I'm gonna take Arthur up in Lady Beth one day... I bet Arthur would love this village... when this war is over, I'm gonna show Arthur America...'" Matthew almost laughed. "I tell you what, he nearly drove me insane with it." Arthur closed his eyes tightly. "He loved you, Arthur. Please don't ever forget that."

Arthur breathed deeply before finally opening his eyes. "No. I don't think I ever will."

"I'm sorry. I've just caused you pain coming here." Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Arthur gasped as he saw what it was. Matthew looked almost apologetic as he handed it over. "We found it in the wreckage."

Arthur's hand felt leaden as he reached out and took the handkerchief. He swallowed heavily and, unable to say anything, he just nodded. He looked down at the embroidered handkerchief, the gift he had given Alfred to serve as a good luck talisman. The irony was too cruel.

"And one more thing." Arthur's heart flipped as Matthew handed him a battered envelope. "He wrote this the morning before… well, you know. He never got to send it. I'm sorry I waited so long, but I thought I should give it to you personally."

Choked up, Arthur nodded again. Here Matthew was just trying to make him feel better, trying to help, and Arthur was being horrible. Arthur wanted to apologise but he simply could not speak.

"We're heading to France soon. I'll come and say goodbye before we head over." Matthew finished his drink, put down his glass, and headed for the door.

"Matthew," Arthur finally managed to choke out. Matthew turned. "Thank you."

Matthew smiled and nodded, then left.

Arthur looked down at the handkerchief, ran his fingers over it, then held it up to his face. He inhaled deeply, clutching desperately for the slightest touch of Alfred from the small piece of cloth. Had it touched Alfred's skin? His lips? Had Alfred been holding it when his plane crashed down? Arthur quickly held back the dark thoughts and ripped open the letter.

.

My Dearest Arthur,

I have done something. It may have been incredibly stupid. It may have been treason.

I don't know if it was wrong. It didn't feel wrong… but now I don't know what may happen to me. All I know is that I don't regret it.

Arthur… whether I come back to you or not… I will love you forever.

My love always, Alfred.

.

Arthur stared at the page, completely unsure what to make of the words. He read them what felt like a hundred times. Eventually he did the only thing he could really do. He poured a glass of bourbon, drank it, then poured another. Bourbon was Alfred's drink. It felt appropriate.

Arthur walked slowly to the mantelpiece and carefully placed the full glass on its surface. Memories started to flood his mind unbidden. The first time this fresh faced American pilot stood at his bar, grinning widely and asking for a glass of bourbon… Bourbon, straight over ice… you Brits have bourbon over here, right? The first time he introduced himself… Alfred F. Jones, American hero, here to save England! The first time of many he asked Arthur to have a drink with him… I've never drunk with an Englishman before! That fateful time he finally succeeded… Arthur, buddy, how about you come have that drink you promised? And of course the night Alfred tried desperately to grasp a glass of scotch off a customer at this very mantelpiece, terrified of the story of the ghost of the Emerald Lion.

Arthur laughed as he looked at the single glass of bourbon sitting on the mantelpiece. Alfred always was so fanatical, so passionate, so boisterous in everything he did. Arthur shook his head as the smile fell from his face. "Alfred, you bastard… you promised you'd come back."

It took only a few seconds for Arthur's composure to fall to pieces. All his carefully constructed, calm self-control fell apart, and his despair overwhelmed him for the first time since those moments he heard the heartbreaking news on the radio. He couldn't stay in this room. The memories were too overwhelming. The bedroom would be even worse. With nowhere else to go, finally Arthur fled down the stairs to the cellar, and headed straight for the rows of bourbon. Taking a bottle from the shelf, he looked down at it for a brief moment, then in a sudden fit of impulse he hurled it as hard as he could at the stone wall. He wanted to shatter the memories, shatter the pain. He watched as the bottle smashed into a million brilliant glass pieces. Just like his heart.

And then Arthur finally let it all come out. Grasping two more bottles from the shelf, he didn't pause to think before smashing them both against the wall, one after the other. Why did this bloody war have to happen? Why did he have to meet someone so amazing only to have him snatched away? Why did he have to find such happiness only to lose it and then know forever what he was living without? Why were there no bloody answers to any of these questions?

Arthur screamed, he yelled, he cried. He wanted this feeling gone. He wanted Alfred back. He wanted it so badly it hurt. He didn't notice as a shard of glass flew back and sliced his cheek. He simply grabbed more bottles and smashed them as hard as he could. Turning to grab another bottle, he finally fell to the ground, pulled off the lid and drank. It took only seconds to down a bottle of bourbon and reach for more. He didn't stop. When one was empty, he reached for another.

Perhaps an hour passed. Perhaps a day. Perhaps more. People may have been speaking to him, but Arthur ignored them. He simply grasped for more bourbon. The dark turned to light, then back to darkness. Arthur reached for more of the liquid void. Blackness. Blessed oblivion.

Arthur was dreaming. The soft melody of 'We'll Meet Again' wafted through the air. Alfred was there… grinning, winking, laughing, smiling. "I'm gonna show you it all, Arthur!" "You'll love it you really will!" "I like that… when you smile…"

The air was thick and the cellar floor hard and cold beneath him. Arthur finally opened his eyes… and there he was, right in front of him. That golden hair, that golden skin, those bright, blue eyes. Arthur looked up into Alfred's beautiful face and smiled. "I knew you'd come back to me."

And then oblivion took over once more.

.

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Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.