#a separate tub but the short end was against the wall and it like came out

[slayter-kinney]

//

[chaoticorganizedmess]

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Can't Quit You❤

Hawks and you are joined together for another mission overseas. Old habits die hard; old love dies harder.

Hawks/Takami Keigo x F. Reader

Warning: Smut Below💋👇🏻; Slight Angst to Fluff; Implied Cheating; Exhibitionism; Barebacking; Creampie [18+]

"We were a strange love. Too wild to last, too rare to break." -Atticus

Everyone knows being in city limits hinders the ability to view the stars above in their true glory. The sky looked like a black void stretched out up above. Though it was later in the night, there were a plethora of windows lit up in the buildings all across the horizon. It gave a romantic feel standing in for the absence of the twinkling stars, however it was hard to focus on that at the moment. The rising heat of your body made the stark contrast to the cold of the window against your skin all the more evident. 

Your breasts being mashed into the glass of the sliding balcony door was the least of your worries. Hawks and you had been going at it since entering the hotel suite, ripping at each other's clothes and your mouths finding purchase on each other's lips in heated kisses. The two of you almost couldn't wait for the door of the room to be opened, nearly starting your elicit session in the hallway. The sexual tension had been growing increasingly more intense as the day wore on. It always did whenever you found yourselves joined up on a mission task force in a foreign place.

Like usual, it started with flirting on the plane to whatever your current destination was. Followed by longing glances across whatever conference room was used for your initial briefing or subtle, sensual touches whenever you two were close enough. It would come to a head at the end of the night as you made your way to the room or rooms to "turn in" for the night. This time the Hero Commission sprung for a Presidential Suite that included a living area, large kitchenette with upgraded amenities, a grand bathroom with glass walls to the deluxe shower and separate hot tub, as well as two individual bedrooms. There would be no need for the two of you to use each one, just as two separate hotel rooms were never used when you teamed up on these missions. The Commission didn't need to know that, though.

It never surprised either of you that you always ended up like this. Not even when it happened that first time. Keigo and you would always be drawn to one another. You were once in a long-term relationship together. The thing was, it was the first genuine, serious relationship for each of you. You both dated people here and there but once you ended up together things fell into place right away. Unfortunately, during a stressful time for Hero society the pressure was getting to you both. It was agreed upon that you would take a break. Yep, que the voice of Ross from 'FRIENDS': "We were on a break!" The short term time apart took longer than expected and before he even knew what happened Hawks had found himself in a new relationship. 

She was nice enough. Really the initial appeal of her was that she has some physical characteristics that resembled you. However, turned out she was nothing like the real thing. No one could stand in your place, but Keigo felt like he was too far in to admit that now. The two of you had remained good friends since you were before you dated. However when it comes to ex-loves it's not uncommon for a new girlfriend to draw a line in the sand for her lover not to cross. Just as she ended up doing to Hawks. So he had to watch himself around you. Despite being offended it pained you to see him after that. Not just because he should of been yours, but the light was gone from his eyes. He looked to you with such guilt and longing anymore.

When that first mission came about you both fell into your comfortable, familiar chemistry. It was easier to be himself and be close to you again while on a top secret mission overseas. By the end of that first night, after he spoke to his girlfriend on the phone and wished her goodnight, he made his way down to the hotel bar. Not many people were in there at this time of night, however he recognized one familiar figure instantly. You.

You had been sitting at the bar nursing another drink. After having a good day alongside Keigo it hurt your heart to go to bed in your room, alone. It only reminded you of what you lost. What you didn't know at that time was that your ex was having the same thoughts and feelings. "Mind if I join ya, Kid?", he commented as he slid onto the stool next to you.

Your wide eyes turned to him in your surprise of hearing his voice, but your expression softened as you looked over his face. "Sure thing.", you replied with a smile. After sharing stories and laughs together, it was a few drinks later you two called it a night. The tension began to swallow you both that first night from the bar, to the elevator, and all the way down the hall to your rooms. You both stood at your doors before glancing up at each other simultaneously. The kiss that then resulted after you two came together heatedly a moment later was felt long overdue. He pushed you into his room and the rest had been history. Now the two of you jumped onto these missions when offered, not that you always had the choice.

It was strange. Keigo felt that he normally would have more guilt burden him with this affair going on. There was something about the fact that it was you that made him feel he was entitled to it. You two belonged to each other, after all. No matter the length of time spent apart, or whoever got in between you. He only felt like he was home buried inside you.

That leaves the two of you where you are now. He is standing behind you, thrusting up into your soft, gummy walls. The grunts and groans that are leaving his throat are downright sinful and has you clenching around his length each time it's back inside you as he fucks into you with varying speeds. "Fuck, Babybird.." He's panting even more now. Your mewls are doing nothing less than spurring him on more. His strong hands are on your hips; fingers digging into your soft skin there. You're sure there'll be little bruises there.

The excitement of having him take you against the large window of the sliding balcony door for anyone to see, despite being on a top floor, sends a thrill down your spine. "K-Kei...I'm gonna-" He cuts you off as he leans to hover his lips over the shell of your ear. "Go on. Cum on my cock." There would be no arguing as you tumbled over the edge into your next climax. You know you've had at least two so far tonight. The ensuing vice grip you had on his shaft had him following right after. You feel his cock pulse inside of you as he paints your insides just the way you love him to.

He doesn't pull out of you right away. He simply wraps his arms around your waist and holds your body close to his front. Keigo buries his head in the crook of your neck as he tries to regulate his breathing. One of your hands is left pressed against the glass in front of you but the other reaches back to find purchase in his wild locks. Things were still intimate between you two but you couldn't help but think something felt different in this moment. "Kei? Keigo, you ok?"

He didn't answer right away but he shakes his head a moment later. Your name then falls from his lips in a whisper. "Be mine again." His words were soft and quiet, as if he were scared to let them out. If you weren't listening you may not have heard him at all. You'd be lying if you said that wasn't what you wanted, but how was that gonna be possible with someone back in Japan waiting for him. Your brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "Kei, you have a girlfrie-"

"I don't.", he replied simply as he cut you off. "What?" You knew what he said but it was hard for your brain to process that he really said it. You turned you head a little more to look at him. Knowing what you wanted he brought his golden eyes to meet your gaze. "I ended it. Before we left Japan." Your mouth was agape as you listened to him explain the situation. "I couldn't keep it up. She wasn't you. She could never be my Babybird." He looked to you expectantly. For once he was unsure of what you'd say or how you'd react. He had dwelt on this since the break up, and he figured he would just come out with it.

You stared back at him. Inspecting his eyes and face for any sign of pranking. There was no amusement, though. He was being sincere. Keigo felt nervousness bubble up in him the longer you stared at him. Even if you didn't get back together he at least wouldn't be going back to living a lie once he got back home. You blinked a few times before pushing your lips against his. He met you with slow, loving kisses. After a few long moments you pulled away and smiled at the soft whine he let out at the loss of your lips. "I love you, Keigo." The warm smile that spreads across his handsome face does little to mask his contentment. Adoration for you dances in his eyes as they light up like you haven't seen in a long while. His forehead rests on yours and he lets out a relieved sigh, already feeling lighter despite all the love and affection he carries for you. "I love you, too.", he breathes out, "So much."

[nationalharryleague]

Acts of Service

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: FLUFF

Word count: 2K

A/N: This is a fluffy love letter to Harry’s love language definitely being acts of service. Feedback is always appreciated and loved! More of my work can be found in my masterlist! 

***

You hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place.

The club was hot and sticky and the pounding of the music was giving you a headache between your eyes. Blisters had begun to form from the rubbing of your heels and your boob prison of a push up bra was beginning to pinch in all the wrong places. You wanted to go home.

At home, you knew the green-eyed, curly-haired god of a man you had somehow trapped in your own spell was waiting up for you. You pictured him curled up on your couch in your apartment, where you had begged him to stay so he would be there whenever you were released from Girls Night. You smiled at the thought of him fighting off sleep with your dog burrowed into his side and your kitten curled up on his chest. A smile pulled it’s way to your lips thinking of how you would collapse next to him and be enveloped by the smell that could be described only as Harry that filled your apartment whenever he was there. You hadn’t been with him for long, but you knew you never wanted to be without him again.

Miss you. Be home soon :), you typed out to him and pressed send before your phone was ripped out of your hands by familiarly manicured fingertips. Your objections were met with laughter and playful scolding from your friend, Sarah.

“No more phone!” she giggled, slipping your device into her own back pocket. “More dancing and drinking,” she insisted, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the depths of the red velvet booth. She held her iron grip on your hand as you were dragged through the cramped dance floor to the long bar. Soon shots were placed in your hands of some clear foul smelling liquid that Sarah assured you ‘didn’t burn too bad.’ On the count of three, you found out your friend was a dirty good-for-nothing liar and the fiery alcohol slid it’s way down your throat, feeling it’s intoxicating effects only minutes later.

Dancing didn’t sound too bad anymore. Dancing actually sounded great. And dance you did. You felt your normally self conscious and slightly awkward self melt away as it always did when you had a couple drinks in you and you had the time of your life. When the club turned its lights up, the universal sign of ‘get the fuck out,’ your friends piled into the back of your designated driver’s car. You were usually DD, but you were glad you passed up the opportunity for once.

“There’s my man!” you shouted out the back window as you pulled up to the apartment building, finding Harry waiting for you, leaning against the front doors. He loved it when you called him ‘your man;’ letting out a light chuckle but fighting a blush from finding its way to his face in front of the gaggle of girls. He looked sleepy, understandable since it was nearly 3am, but a smile didn’t leave his lips as he gently rubbed his eyes.

“Hi my girl,” his voice graveled back, thick with the sound of sleep. Clumsily climbing out of the back seat, you wobbled your way to his waiting arms, finally feeling steady supported by his firm hold on your waist.

“I missed you,” you whispered, only stumbling over your words a little and puckering your lips slightly, silently asking for a kiss. You watched his eyes flicker quickly up at the watching car full of your closest friends before giving into your request. When your lips met, you were cheered on by a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs,’ your girlfriends determined to embarrass you both. You pressed your now pink cheek to his chest as you waved your friends off into the night, saying your goodbyes and feeling a light peck to the top of your head.

“Come on, let's get you upstairs party girl,” Harry spoke softly, his hand securely wrapped around you and a finger hooked into your jeans’ belt loop, steadying your slightly swaying body. The elevator ride up to your apartment was short, filled with your drunken blabbering about whatever came to mind; topics varying from how soft your kitten was to how bad you wanted to eat the tub of cookie dough in the back of your fridge. Your thoughts were met with sleepy chuckles and his adoring gaze.

Walking inside your home, after a considerable fight with your key, you surveyed the sleeping animals curled up into their beds and raised their heads for only a moment before they deemed sleep more important than their mother. Looking around your cramped living room, you were greeted with a spotless apartment, far cleaner than when you left it for your night of mayhem. “Oh, you didn’t,” you accused as your shocked face met his smug one.

“I got a little bored and I thought it would be nice for you to come home to a clean house,” he smiled. Throw pillows were set on the couch in perfect alignment, tops and bottoms of potential outfits you had chosen from had long been folded and put away, and your carpet looked fluffier like it was freshly vacuumed. “There's also something for you in the kitchen.”

A whisper of ‘oh my goodness’ left your lips when you saw the plate of chocolate chip cookies sitting on your counter in the tiny kitchen. You were an emotional drunk and you didn’t even know you were crying until Harry wiped your tears away.

“You didn't have to do all of this for me,” you whimpered as he pulled you into another hug, leaning up against his warm frame to balance your own.

“I wanted too,” he assured you tenderly. “You know my love language is acts of service, or at least that’s what you told me it was,” he said, your head vibrating from the laugher in his chest.

Harry made you feel loved more than anything else in your relationship. You had only been together for a few months and they had been some of the happiest of your life. You two had met in a bookstore, however chiche it was, and had gotten coffee together. It was your treat (gift giving was your own love language) and very soon after you decided you never wanted to live a life without him in it. You loved him and you knew it, but you had not reached the point in your relationship where you were ready to tell him that. You hoped the gifts you brought nearly every time you saw him were already doing that for you.

You had never been in a relationship that you saw a clear future in. Sure, there were a few people here and there but you had always been known as the single friend. The friend that would always lend an ear, give unfounded relationship advice, and curse exes until they evenvitabily got back together.

Everything about Harry was different. You had met your match. You could spend days on end curled in each other's arms, only leaving your bed to grab snacks, and never run out of topics to discuss or want some time apart. You talked about your careers (he was a middle school music teacher and you were a law student), the meaning of life, childhood memories, your favorite colors, and so on. It was all just so easy with him.

He was also the first man you had ever been fully comfortable with. Overtime, your walls came down (or he knocked out a couple bricks and stuck in), and your usually self conscious demeanor began to twist into this new and improved version of yourself. Even if down the line you and Harry went your separate ways, you knew you would be better for knowing him.

You were brought out of your adoring haze when Harry asked if you needed help getting into pajamas. You agreed, knowing that getting you out of those jeans was going to be a two person job.  

Soon you were laying back on your (now perfectly made) bed, naked from the waist up; both of you fighting with the skin tight fabric, your inebriated hands being absolutely no help to the efforts. Your body shook with giggles watching your saint of a boyfriend tug on each leg of your pants, willing them to move, as he swore about how he was going to have to cut you out of them.

“Your neighbors are going to think we're going to town on each other,” he grumbled as he inched them down your legs.

“Nothing out of the ordinary then,” you laughed and wiggled your legs when you were finally free from their hold.

“I’m assuming you want this?” he asked, moving to take off his large tshirt, revealing first his ferns, then his butterfly, and then your favorite little swallows. After a feverish nod, you lifted your hands up and he slipped his shirt onto your smaller frame, enveloping you in the soft fabric and your favorite smell in the world.

“Smells like home,” you mumble while burying your nose in the fabric, unsure if he heard you.

“Oi, you’re going to stain it with your makeup,” he scolded. “Let’s get all that off.”

Sitting you down on the edge of the tub, you watched as he shuffled around the bathroom, frequently looking back to your face to examine his task. He looked at you like your face of makeup was a puzzle to be solved or a mountain to scale.

“I can just sleep in it and deal with it in the morning,” you said in between bites of the chocolate chip cookie you had stolen off the kitchen counter.

“We both know I’ll get in trouble if I let you sleep in it.”

“Probably,” you shrugged without paying much attention to him, mainly enamored by the cookie that was beginning to disappear.

Kneeling down in front of you, wielding a wash cloth soaked in makeup remover, Harry began to softly rub at your makeup. His touch was delicate and tender, careful not to get any in your eyes or hair line. He took his time, moving in soft circles, cleaning away the mask you had put on for the occasion. His breath handed softly on your face and you scanned his face, appreciating this time to take him in.

He was so beautiful. His eyebrows were gently brought together and his tongue would swipe over his lips every so often in focus. His eyes were deep and green, flecked with brown and blue, and framed by long black eyelashes you would kill for. Your eyes swiped around his face connecting his constellation of freckles and you reached up to brush your hands against the light stubble that had begun to show against his jaw line. You let your hand fall to his bare shoulder, stabilizing yourself against his strong build. His skin was soft and tan and perfect.

Your lips had a mind of your own when you said it. A verbalized moment of sheer honesty and adoration. You didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out.

“I love you, H.”

You could take it back, but that would be lying and probably hurt his feelings. You could double down and keep talking, but your hazy thoughts couldn’t come up with anything else to say at the moment. Your third option was saying nothing. You picked the third.

He paused for a moment when he processed what you said, his eyebrows shooting up and giving you an amused look. A closed lipped grin played on his lips and he continued on with his task, wringing out the towel over the tub and going back in to dry your face.

If you had been sober, you would have absolutely panicked. You would have run out of the bathroom and buried yourself under your sheets, embarrassed of what you just did. But you were hanging on for dear life to your buzz, pretending like everything was perfectly peachy and you didn’t just accidentally tell your boyfriend of only a few months that you loved him.

“That’s good. Because I love you too,” he beamed, all exhaustion gone from his voice.

Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it :) My ask box is open with any feedback you may have! 

[buckyownsmylife]

Every Part of me - Tom Holland smut

The one where you and Tom are ex-lovers

Warnings: smut, kinda dubcon? but maybe not really (Tom just steps in and makes sexual decisions without discussing previously with the reader, but she accepts it wholeheartedly), slight degradation (Tom calls the reader cockslut and greedy little whore and dumb little baby, but I think that’s it), face fucking that causes slight asphyxiation, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking and the likes

A/N: Day 2 of Kinktober! Today’s prompts were face fucking and breeding kink with Tom Holland. Hope you guys like it! And thanks for everyone who has sent me messages about my accident, I’m actually feeling a lot better, although still in huge pain. 

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I knew he’d been watching ever since I stepped foot in the set. To be fair, I couldn’t say I wouldn’t do the same. It hadn’t been much over a month since we decided to call it quits, and despite knowing it was for the best, it didn’t change the fact that my body still felt perfectly tuned to him and his gaze, the way he’d lick his lips after his eyes caught mine. So I tried not to look, knowing it wouldn’t make much of a difference in the end.

At least my job was quick and easy and despite knowing he’d be around, we weren’t expected to be in a scene together. Still, two weeks felt fourteen days too long and the day before I was expected to leave, the exhaustion of being on the edge all the time had caught up with me. I was scared, constantly tense about the possibility that I’d find myself standing too close to him and one whiff of his cologne would make me lose all the control I was struggling to hold onto.

I couldn’t even predict what would happen, I just know it wouldn’t be good. Not for our intentions to stay away from each other. So that’s why when Anthony and Robert asked if I wanted to go out for drinks, to celebrate my last night on set, I politely refused, explaining how utterly drained of all energy I felt. Thankfully, they conceded, leaving me alone to sleep this last night before I could go back to the comfort of my own house. I guess the fact that they knew about our break up helped a bit. Robert had looked at me with kind eyes that let me know he was understanding of my situation.

Nonetheless, as soon as I got into my room, I grabbed a bottle of wine and unscrewed it, determined to finish it tonight. Perhaps the buzz would help me sleep, but what I needed the most, however, was a distraction, and since a night out with friends wasn’t possible, I decided to give myself a night of relaxation. 

As I poured myself my first glass, I stripped down to nothing, leaving my clothes on the floor as I opted to put on one of the silk robes the hotel offered. Nothing says solo party like semi-nudity. Besides, I was planning on jumping in the tub any minute now.

My idea, however, was cut short by a strong knock on my bedroom’s door.

Raising an eyebrow, I approached the door cautiously. I wasn’t expecting anyone and I hadn’t even called for a meal yet. Another knock resonated and I sighed, quickening my step to open the door to the stranger.

“Tom.” The word came out more as a whisper than anything else. He, on the other hand,  didn’t say a word. Instead, his eyes gazed hauntingly into mine with an intensity I hadn’t ever seen before. “What are you doing here?” I asked when I felt enough courage to break the silence, but my voice came out weak and hesitant. I hated myself for that. I wanted to sound strong, enthusiastic, even. Not like someone who missed the weight of his body over mine.

The same thought must have been in his head because at last, his eyes broke our connection to travel the extent of my body. Self-conscious, I tried to better adjust the robe around me, hoping to hide more of my skin from his view.

It didn’t take a genius to see that he didn’t like that. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

Seeing Y/N wearing only a robe, not even a foot away from me, after only dealing with memories of her scent, was too much and yet everything I needed at that moment. I could smell her now. That vanilla body wash she always took with her wherever she’d go, lilies and wine. I guess she’d been drinking.

Maybe that’s why her lips were so red.

I wanted to lick it off of her, kiss her until she lost all the air in her lungs, bite her luscious lips until they were red for a completely different reason.

I subconsciously licked mine, eyes still fixated on her mouth before looking down to admire the skin that was available for me to look at.

She fixed her robe, trying to hide more from me.

I didn’t like that.

Before I could even realize what I was doing, I was pushing her inside the room, slamming the door behind us. To every step I gave in her direction, she gave one to distance her body from mine, but I was having none of it. I quickened my movements until I was able to wrap an arm around her lower back and pull her to me, my lips immediately finding hers.

It was like heaven and hell all at once. God, I knew I’d missed her taste, but having it in my lips again, being able to explore the inside of her mouth with my tongue brought me such a powerful exhilaration that I felt like my knees would buckle at any second. 

Still, I couldn’t separate myself from her. Not even when she tried to push me away, to end our kiss - no doubt struggling with the memories of that terrible night when we decided to call it quits. But I was done going through the same reel again and again. I didn’t want to remember her anymore. I wanted her right here, with me.

So I chased her away, making sure our lips stayed connected until she had nowhere to run anymore. Pressed up against the wall, I had all the control I’d been wanting over her now. So I deepened our kiss, burying one of my hands on her hair so I could force her head back to accept my eager tongue, and when I was finally able to do so, my other hand pulled on the string of her robe until it fell open and I had all of her body exposed to me. 

“Tom…” She managed to gasp as she struggled against my hold on her, but I was having none of it. 

“Shut up,” I warned her, already prying her lower lips open with my index and ring finger as I inserted my middle one on her weeping hole. “Fuck.” The chuckle that I gave held no humor, only a mocking tone that I hardly recognized as mine. “For someone who’s so resistant to my touch you sure are wet, sweetheart.”

Perhaps I was still angry at her. Maybe that’s why I felt this overwhelming need to be mean, to make sure that she did just what I wanted. Perhaps then she’d know how I’d felt ever since that night. 

She stopped struggling then, accepting my invasion of her space as I took her mouth on mine again, pressing her against the wall as I fucked her with a single finger, before adding another and another. 

I could feel her struggling to accept me, the thickness of the three digits stretching her open and I had to laugh. “I can see you haven’t been properly fucked since I was last inside this little pussy, huh?” I teased, and she only whined in response, moving her hips to thrust back against my hand. “Gotta prepare you, love…” Kissing her, I made sure to leave a few bruises on her neck when I left her lips, my fingers never stopping their movements inside of her. “Gotta make sure you’ll be able to accept my cock in here again.”

Maybe it was what I said, maybe it was the fact that I finally relented and started to rub on her clit with my thumb, but I had her cumming around me in seconds, making me grin darkly as I continued to fuck her through her orgasm.

“Such a dumb little baby, thinking you could leave me. Saying all of those things and leaving me to pick up the pieces of my heart. Well, let’s see how you speak now, with my cock in your mouth.”

I pushed her on her knees and immediately she was reaching out for my jeans, but I slapped her hands away. “You get what I give you, nothing more. Now sit back and wait for my cock like a good girl.”

The sight of her with her bottom lip sticking out, those cute puppy eyes appearing from under her eyelashes made my heart grow twice its size. How did I think I could live without her? How did she so easily give up on me, leaving me behind after one single fight?

The ambers of anger rose high again, and I grabbed her hair in my fist, pulling her to meet my erect member. “Suck it up, little whore.” I allowed her to do as she pleased for a little while, albeit keeping my grip on her hair, relishing in the feeling of her talented tongue and warm mouth. But the feeling of despair was still threatening to cut me open, and before long I pulled her away by her hair. 

“Open your mouth,” I barked. “Leave it open. I’m gonna fuck your face.” She didn’t fight as I pulled her on my dick until her lips were touching my navel, my cock hitting the back of her throat.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It took every bit of concentration I had to control my urge to gag around his cock, but I knew by the way he looked down at me that it was a battle I was destined to fail. He wanted me to hurt. He needed to see the tears in my eyes as he constricted my need for air, and I could allow him this release.

Despite our break-up, I still trusted him with my life.

So I relaxed against him, allowing him to do as he wished as he guided my movements through his grip in my hair, and I found some new appreciation by the way I was a sputtering, whiny mess, tears and spit running on my face just like he wished to see.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Take it. Take this fucking cock like the greedy little whore you are for me.” I couldn’t even find it in myself to care about the degrading nature of his comments, not when they were making me so wet I could feel it dripping down my thighs.

We’d never fucked like this before, but god, were we missing out. I was so aroused by our activities that I couldn’t wait anymore, I needed another release soon. So one of my hands ended up between my legs, while the other rested on one of his thighs, just for support.

At first, he was so wrapped up in the pleasure I was giving him that he didn’t even notice, but when I moaned around his cock after a particular tug in my hair that made my finger slip inside of myself, he opened his eyes to look down at me, finding me halfway through an orgasm already.

“You’re such a cockslut, aren’t you? Already gave you an orgasm, but the second my cock is in your mouth, you need another one.” I obviously couldn’t answer, but he didn’t really want a response, from the way he pulled his dick from between my lips with a pop before pulling me up by my hair and dragging me to bed.

“You’re not gonna cum if it’s not me giving you the pleasure, sweetheart.” It was the first time in the night he called me by one of the pet names he used when we were still dating, and even if the tone was still slightly colder and bossier than I was used to, I felt myself melting at the memories that it brought me, leaving me putty in his hands.

He was then free to easily manipulate my body how he saw fit, which was on my hands and knees, my head pushed down against the hotel’s mattress. “Fuck, I missed this ass,” he commented just before slapping me hard, making me yelp. The sound must have entertained him because he did it again and again until I was shaking from the ardor and dripping down on the bed from arousal.

And then he pushed into me, releasing one of those breathless little moans that I loved to hear and that I’d missed so much, and it felt like I’d blacked out for a second. Having him inside of me was everything I had been dreaming of for the last couple of weeks, and now that I was struggling to accept his thickness, it felt like the only thing in my mind was Tom, how Tom’s hands felt as he rubbed them all over my back before wrapping my hair around them again, the feeling of his thighs hitting the back of mine, the sound of his balls slapping my clit with each powerful thrust he gave. 

It was enough to have screaming out his name with zero regards for the other people on this hotel floor. “Fuck yes, baby, let them know who’s fucking you this good.” There was no way anyone staying close to us didn’t know, and I could only pray none of our co-stars would be around to tease us about it.

Suddenly, just when I was about to reach that peak again, he pulled out, easily manhandling me onto my bed as he held my ankles spread out for me. I moaned out loud when I felt him spit on my pussy before he pushed into me again, immediately getting back into the same rhythm as before.

“I want to see your face when you cum again,” he whispered hotly in my ear, making me whimper as I pulled him closer to me, my sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest. It didn’t take me long to get back to the same state as before, and the second he sucked on my earlobe, I came all around him, hearing him curse against my ear.

When I opened my eyes after calming down again, I realized he’d been waiting for me, predatory gaze glued on mine as he found a way to pound me even harder against the mattress, so roughly bumping against my uterus that it almost hurt.

“I’m gonna cum,” he suddenly announced, still looking deep into my eyes, and all of a sudden, I was shaken awake from my reverie by the realization that we’d been fucking raw this entire time. But before I could even come up with something to say about it, he beat me to it, adding, “I’m gonna cum inside of you. I’ll fuck a baby into you. This way you won’t be able to walk out on me ever again.”

Just as he oh-so-casually mentioned his plans for our future, I felt him spill into me for the first time, the warm feeling eliciting another small orgasm that left me trembling in his hands as he continued to softly thrust into me, like he didn’t want to leave and let any of his cum escape my pussy.

“I mean it,” he randomly interrupted my attempt to gather my breath, still panting himself, still very much nested inside of me. When I raised an eyebrow in question, he simply shook his head before leaning down to drop his body weight over mine, just like I’d been dreaming about. “I want you forever. I’m not letting you go again. Baby or no baby.”

Snorting, I hugged him to me, relishing on the smell of his cologne as I hid my face in the crook of his neck. “We still have a lot to talk about, Tom… but it’s safe to say that I feel the same way.”

[benedictscanvas]

the future is bright (with you, my dear) - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death, serial killers, the general criminal minds stuff but nothing graphic

A/N: Okay, so, confession: this is very self-indulgent! I’m not very well, but desperately wanted to get something out to you so I’m sorry if the quality isn’t up to scratch! But I just wanted to write something super fluffy and comforting that could just wrap me up in a nice soft blanket. Hope you enjoy! :)

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(ways to say i love you) number 16 = “it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyway”

The ticking of the clock in the hotel room was unrelenting. It wormed its way into your brain and stayed there, until you were hearing it echoing in your head and you didn’t even know whether it was real anymore. Eventually, after minutes, hours, you didn’t know, you huffed as you got out of bed and took the clock off the wall, taking it into the bathroom and putting it in the tub.

When you returned to bed and you could still hear it, it was only a few minutes before you returned to the bathroom and took the batteries out. You threw them in the tub angrily and practically stomped back into your bed like a child might.

The case was slow. Agonisingly so. You’d been here for days and yet you still felt no closer to catching the unsub than you were when you began, despite having three more dead bodies left in the woods since then. Some of you were tired, some of you were cranky and some of you were just pissed off. You found yourself a mixture of all three.

It was all swirling around in your mind, and you could swear you could still hear that damn ticking, so you only heard the knocking the third time it happened and a soft utterance of your name accompanied it. You recognised the voice, and it was the only thing that had you hopping out of bed, grabbing your long cardigan from the peg and wrapping it around yourself, only wearing a tank top and shorts in the hot climate.

When you opened the door, Spencer was already halfway down the corridor.

“Spence,” you hissed, watching him wince and turn around, “Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, did I wake you?” he whispered and you smiled as you shook your head, beckoning him into your room so you could talk properly. Rossi, who was currently in the pissed off stage of the case, would only come out of the room and glare at the two of you if you stayed in the corridor any longer.

Instead, he followed you inside, still murmuring his apologies even after you’d sat him down on the end of the bed next to you. You crossed your legs on the bed and wrapped your cardigan tighter around yourself against the chill of the cheap hotel.

“Spencer, seriously,” you said, resting a hand on his forearm to stop his mumbled rambling, “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

He paused at that and tilted his head in that adorable manner he sometimes did.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just can’t sleep. This case is…”

You trailed off but he nodded. He understood. He always did. People thought he didn’t always understand people, didn’t always pick up on things but in your experience? He picked up on your cues before anyone else, understood you better than anyone else. Best friends ever since you’d joined the BAU together, inseparable on and off cases: if there was anyone you wanted at your door when you couldn’t sleep, it was Spence.

“I know,” he said sympathetically, placing a hand over yours on his arm. He glanced behind him and looked back to you, a newly amused smile on his face, “Where’s your clock?”

You bit your the inside of your cheek.

“Never had one,” you lied, unconvincingly. It wasn’t your best work.

“All the rooms have one, Y/N,” he said, eyebrows raised as he stared at you. You muttered your answer incoherently, “What was that?”

‘It’s in the bath, okay?” you said exasperatedly, pouting, “That stupid ticking was driving me to distraction.”

He chuckled at you, shaking his head fondly.

“Of course it’s in the bath.”

“Anyway,” you said pointedly, “What are you doing awake? And here?”

His gaze was cast downward almost immediately, and you frowned. You squeezed his arm a little, because you were still holding onto it. You didn’t have the heart to let go, but luckily neither did he. It was nice to have a bit of human contact amongst all the human misery you saw day to day.

“I don’t know,” he said weakly, shrugging his shoulders, “I was just lying there staring at the ceiling and...well, I had a feeling you might be too.”

Now he was lying to you, but he was seriously trying to. It was a serious lie. Your frown only got worse, the lines of your face deepening. Now you did have the heart to, so you removed your hand from his arm and leaned back away from him.

“Spencer, why are you really here?” you said, the room changing all at once, but you added with soft eyes, “You never have to lie to me, you know?”

He was biting his lip and you just wanted to reach up and and pull it away from his teeth, run your fingers gently over his jawline, smooth out all the worry lines he’d gained since you met him. Sometimes, you wished he hadn’t seen everything he had seen, wished you could save him from it all. But sometimes, you also wished you could kiss him. Some things weren’t meant to be.

“I know,” he said guiltily, “Sorry. It’s stupid, though, and I don’t want you to think I can’t handle the case or that I’m not thinking clearly or-”

“I can guarantee that whatever your reason for knocking on my door, I’m not going to think anything like that. Ever, Spence.”

He looked at you with a look in his eye that you recognised as love. You knew it to be the completely platonic kind, but it made butterflies stir up a frenzy in your stomach regardless.

Ironically, platonic friendship was one of the furthest things from Spencer’s mind in that moment, but there was no way for you to know that.

“Okay,” he relented, “You know how me and Rossi went to the crime scene today? Well, when we pulled the sheet back from Shelly Peterson’s body there was a moment...well, it was such a stupid moment because I knew you were back at the station and we’d spoken on the phone not five minutes prior but-”

You sighed gently.

“She looked like me?” you interjected, nothing but kindness in your tone, none of the teasing he might have worried about or the wrinkled nose at the stupidity of his thoughts. None of that.

“She did,” there were tears gathering in his eyes and you had to will yourself not to cry right along with him, “A-and I just...I haven’t really seen you since because we were working on separate parts of the profile so I couldn’t sleep until I-”

He wasn’t finishing his sentences. It wasn’t unlike him sometimes, when he was a little shaken up, but it still worried you each and every time. You were so used to him being eloquent, beautifully so, speaking at a hundred miles an hour but still making more sense than people who spoke ten times slower. When he lost the ability to speak fully coherently, you knew he was really fighting an mental battle.

“Until you came and saw me?” you finished for him again, knowing he wouldn’t mind. They were words he couldn’t bring himself to say, but also ones that he needed you to know. You would happily say them for him if necessary, “Spencer, that’s not stupid.”

You had noticed your resemblance to the victim earlier that day too, but hadn’t said anything. JJ had given you a look but you’d brushed her off quickly, not wanting to draw attention to it in front of the team. They must have noticed too, it was hard not to, but nobody said anything. It went unspoken. For you, though, it had only been in pictures and you could imagine you might have reacted a little differently had you actually been at the scene like Spence.

“It felt stupid,” he said quietly, “I think Rossi thought I was losing it. I just kept...staring at her. And I knew she was Shelly Peterson, of course I did, but it felt like I was staring right at your dead body. Y/N, I don’t think I can ever do that for real. No, actually, I know I could never do that, I’m not capable, I think- I think it would kill me.”

His words were chilling. His voice got louder as he started finishing his sentences again. It was as if he was so determined never to have that nightmare become reality that he had to tell you now, he had to tell you right this second that there was no scenario in which you were allowed to die.

“Well, that’s okay,” you said confidently, not being able to help yourself when you reached up and took his chin between your thumb and forefinger, begging him to make eye contact with you, “Because I’m not going anywhere, Dr Reid, and neither are you. You’re not allowed to. I won’t have it.”

“But-”

“Nope,” you stopped him, because his thoughts were consuming him and you desperately wanted to bring him back to you, to this moment, here in the hotel room where the two of you were safe. Where the two of you were together. “Creating geographical profiles side by side, that’s how we’re going to live out the rest of our days. We’re going to go to crime scenes and trade theories away from the group if we’re not sure about them. We’re going to force each other to get a few hours sleep on the jet whenever we can.”

“Yeah?” his voice was still timid, but now it sounded like he was simply getting more overwhelmed with every sentence you spoke. You swallowed the sentimental lump in your throat and continued on, reluctantly letting go of his chin now that he’d dared to look at you.

“Yeah. We’re going to spend weekends together. In the park. At my apartment, at your apartment. We’re going to sit at our desks across from each other in the bullpen every day. Chat as we do paperwork. Get each other coffee. Eventually, I’m going to learn that however much sugar I put in will never be enough.”

“Would be great if you learnt that sooner rather than later,” he joked with a chuckle, even though there were more tears in his eyes. You swatted his arm playfully, your own choked laughter filling the small room.

“We’re going to be as old as Rossi one day, with a few grey hairs, and there will be new FBI recruits that ask each other in hushed voices, ‘Is that Doctor Reid and Agent Y/L/N? I’ve read all of their books!’ and we’ll sign a few of them if they’re lucky,” you explained, feeling a few tears of your own surfacing as you imagined Spencer with grey hairs around his temple.

You could picture him, years in the future, walking over to you on the jet and sitting down with that small groan that Rossi let out quite often when he sat down, a customary groan that slightly older people seem to do even if nothing hurts and nothing is stiff. Spencer would groan as he sat down and you would laugh at him, tease him for being too old for all this now, and he’d remind you of this very moment.

“We’re going to co-write books?” he said dreamily and you knew he was picturing scenario after scenario of your future now too. You hoped it might get the image of your dead body out of his mind, at least for a while, replace it with images of you laughing at his ridiculous philosophical jokes just because he thought they were funny.

“We are indeed,” you hummed happily.

“How do you make our job sound so...romantic?”

You hadn’t expected that, but you tried not to let it show on your face. Instead you just furrowed your brows in confusion and hoped he didn’t see the fear in your eyes at the prospect of being found out.

“Romantic?”

“Yeah,” he said, seemingly unfazed by what he was saying, “We have one of the worst jobs in the world, see more evil than most people will ever even hear about, but you make it sound like we’re going to live out this...romantic ideal.”

You took a deep breath.

“Our job is awful...basically all the time, I know. But I suppose, on the occasion that it isn’t awful, it’s usually either because we save someone or because- well, because you’re around.”

Spencer paused, staring at you and your gaze drifted down to his lips before snapping back upwards again. He saw that. Definitely. Your tone had changed, but he was the one who had mentioned romance, so you were only following his lead, you told yourself.

Was he closer than he had been a second ago? Your mind was playing tricks on you. When he spoke, his voice was breathy and barely there.

“Sounds pretty r-romantic to me.”

You held your breath.

“Is that a good thing?”

Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

“I think you missed some stuff out of our future,” he said and all you could think was that he hadn’t said no, not yet, and that if he was about to let you down gently then you weren’t sure you would cope, “I know we’re going to work together for the rest of our lives. Create profiles and catch killers and write books. But I’m also...I’m also going to love you for the rest of our lives. Do you think we could fit that in?”

You exhaled slowly, just so he wouldn’t hear how shaky it was. Your grin was infectious, clearly, because he was grinning too, you could see it through tear-blurred vision. You wouldn’t answer his question directly, he hadn’t answered yours after all, but you spoke up quickly to make sure he had no doubt about your answer.

“We could...go on coffee dates?”

“Movie marathons under mountains of blankets?”

“Kissing in the rain?”

“Kissing under the stars.”

“Kissing everywhere.”

“Moving in together?”

“Getting a dog? A cat?”

“Getting down on one knee?”

Voices growing softer and softer, the questions soon melted away into the dim glow of the hotel room and the future felt closer than it ever had before as you shared your first kiss.

(and your second, and your third, and your…)

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tags: @justkurotingz @yes-sir-hotchner​

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 10 (Finale)

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚  IT’S TIME.

Hello! I would honestly really like to thank every one of you who’s read this and encouraged me during this long ride! It’s been a wild one and it’s been an honor to share this smutty smut fest to you all. I’m a little sad that it’s over, but hopefully after some time away from writing this fic I’ll come back and write one last bonus chapter. Because what’s my writing without boning a demon amirite?

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

  Pairing: Simeon x Reader Genre: Angst, fluff, smut Wordcount: 7,100 ish   Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut Summary: Accepting and confronting feelings come with the consequence of a fall.

Fall

You had fully intended to go home as usual after a session with Simeon. Even if the post coital cuddles were much desired and needed, he always kept business and personal relations separate. You knew better than to get too attached to the warmth and comfort of his embrace. It pained you to know he would always approach your relationship with a cool detachment and you expected things to be the same as usual this time as well.

The endorphins of such an intense session sedated the both of you, letting you fall into a comfortable doze for a bit. Simeon clung to you as he slept, rousing you from your slumber more than once as his arms wrapped around you tighter. He whimpered from time to time, twitching and clutching you tighter as if you could drive away whatever bad dreams he had. It was strange to see him so possessive, not that you minded. Even if it was only when he slept, he was at least comfortable enough around you to let down his guard a little bit. By the time you needed to leave and catch the last train home, his limbs were tangled with yours and there was no way to move without waking him up.

“Simeon, I have to go…” You protested, trying to pry yourself from him.

He groaned and only pressed himself against you more in his half-asleep state. “No.” He whined.  “Stay the night, please. I don’t want to be alone.” His voice was surprisingly quiet and it cracked at the end of his plea.

Your heart skipped a beat at his sudden confession and any desire you had to leave immediately disappeared. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay.” You reassured, patting his arm and his hold on you relaxed just a bit.

Simeon sighed in content and took in your scent when you agreed to stay. His breathing stuttered for a moment as he savored your warmth next to his own. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he allowed himself the chance to indulge in a show of affection. Normally, he would have brought up his walls and politely seen you off. Yet, something prevented him from doing that right away this time. Likely, it had to do with the burning feeling that settled in his chest earlier when he saw you being fucked by Lucifer. The image and the feeling refused to go away, causing him to be needier than usual.  

He couldn’t go back to the way things were before when he was simply asking you to do things for the sake of his book. It was impossible to deny that he had budding feelings he needed to confront. The consequences of being too deeply involved in the human realm laid heavily on his shoulders and he didn’t want to think about them when he had you in his arms. He need to recenter himself and stay rational while he tried to figure out a way to reclaim who he was before this all happened. To do that, his feelings had to be carefully locked away. Wearily, he brought up the walls around his heart once more even though your close proximity threatened to tear them down at any moment.

You turned over to look at him and noticed he still had the collar on. Carefully, you helped him out of it. Unbuckling the ornate clasp was surprisingly harder than you anticipated, especially since you didn’t want to hurt Simeon. When it was finally pulled away and thrown to the side, it was hard to not notice how he skin of his neck had been rubbed raw from receiving such rough treatment throughout the night. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, tentatively tracing the tender skin and he winced at the touch.

“Don’t be. I’m alright. I promise.”  He reassured, but there was no conviction behind his words. He pulled away from you, ignoring the throbbing around his neck from where the collar had sat for so long.

You decided to leave the issue for the time being. Simeon wasn’t a stranger to harming himself, the long scars on his back was proof of that. Why he thought such self punishments were necessary were beyond your comprehension and you couldn’t begin to think about how to comfort him whenever this habit of his came up. You only had a few canned, rehearsed words that everyone had been taught to say and countless empty promises that you could never keep. You wanted to believe he would reach out for help if he needed it; however, if you knew anything about Simeon, it was that he would never say what he wanted.

“Shall I draw you a bath?” he asked quietly after a long lull of silence. He was staring at a point just past your head, in a daze and not quite focused as he normally was. As if he noticed how zoned out he was, he blinked and made proper eye contact with you. “I’m sure you’re tired, and it’ll give me a chance to change the sheets so you don’t have to keep sleeping on the mess I made.” He smiled softly, already in the middle of getting out of bed to start running the water.

There they were again. Those walls you worked so hard break through had been rebuilt in the short time you had been nodding off in his arms. When you weren’t fully focused on him, he was pushing you gently to the side, distancing himself and the cool detachment was more than a little depressing for you. It felt like with every time you got him to open up, the more he closed off his feelings. You thought you had gotten somewhere when he asked you to stay, but it seemed to be a temporary lapse.

He beckoned you to the bathroom shortly after, the tub was already half full and you could smell the jasmine oil he had put in there to help ease the aches and pains away. If anything, you thought he deserved a bath more than you did, but he was adamant about attending to your needs first and foremost. “Please take as much time here as you’d like. I’ll get a robe for you in a bit.” He turned to take his leave but you stopped him, holding onto his hand and tugging him closer.

“Won’t you stay? You need to get cleaned up too, don’t you?”

He smiled, though the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. “Unfortunately, the tub is not large enough for two.” He reasoned.

Before you could further insist that he stay by your side, he was already through the door and off to change the sheets like he said he would.

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to get anywhere else with him for the night and slipped into the bath. The hot water did wonders to your sore muscles. Whatever he put into it only aided in relaxing you to a point where you were quickly dozing off in the bath. Your mind was much more active than your body, replaying all the events that lead up to this moment. From the first hesitant time in that sunroom all the way to the moment he surrendered his body to you, your relationship and your feelings for him had only deepened.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you mulled over the discussion you had with him so long ago, going through the things he was comfortable with doing and what he absolutely refused to do. Somewhere along the line, you had pushed aside his boundaries in pursuit of getting what you wanted out of your agreement. You ended up assuming that he desired you the same way you desired him. Upon this realization, it was no longer a wonder why you were being politely pushed away.

You lost track of how long you had been in the tub. Your disheartening thoughts pulled you down a deep rabbit hole where you analyzed every moment you shared, wondering where you had gone wrong and when you had become so inconsiderate. Your mind ran in circles while your body slowly shut down from exhaustion.

Simeon thought you died in the tub when he found you. Your torso was practically hanging out the side of the tub and you didn’t respond when he called your name the first time. To say he was relieved when he saw you twitch slightly after he called you again would have been an understatement. He sighed softly, setting the robe he brought in to the side and gently propped you up. “Come now, Little Lamb. You’ll catch a cold if you sleep like that.” He chided.

You blinked, clearing your bleary vision and grumbled at him, brushing his hands away. “Just a few more minutes.” You whined.

“The water is no longer warm, you’ll get sick if you stay in here any longer.” He was insistent, half dragging you out of the tepid water much to your dismay.

Simeon wrapped you in the largest towel he had, smiling softly the whole time you were turned away from him. The fluffy bath sheet smelled of lavender and something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was a familiar scent. You clearly did not seem to be in any state to properly care for yourself and he took it upon himself to properly dry you off. It wasn’t often he got to dote on you in the way he wished, and it seemed the only time he would get the chance was when you were barely conscious after being fucked out of your mind.

Seeing you barely able to stay on your feet, Simeon almost carried you back to bed. Stay distant. Do not meddle any further. Though he knew he was likely too far gone to return to the Celestial realm with any sort of good grace, he childishly thought it might not be too late to rectify his wrongs.

He took you by your hand, lead you back to bed and tucked you in. It took no time at all for you to fall asleep on the newly changed sheets. You hogged a majority of his pillows and the blankets, but he didn’t mind. Only when he was sure you were soundly asleep did he allow himself the chance to shower off the worst of the fluids which had caked themselves onto his skin. As he watched the water swirl down the drain, he wonder if he really stood a chance against Lucifer’s wiles and seduction. He couldn’t get the image of you being taken by another man out of his head no matter how hard he distracted from himself.

That dull, burning feeling spread across his chest once again. The ache of yearning for something he could never have consumed his being. And as the conflicting emotions warred within him, he sank into the corner of the shower, letting the water pelt at him until it ran cold. Even then, he didn’t feel like he he had the energy to drag himself out of the shower. The moment he left, he knew that he would need to decide between his devotion to you or to the…

~~

Gods were known to be all benevolent. He had experienced and executed the outcome of such goodness to many before. He thought, perhaps the gods would remember his good deeds and forgive his few misgivings in the human realm. After he finally pulled himself off the chilled floor of the shower and got dressed, he reached for the rosary tucked in the back corner of his night stand and knelt in reverence to the Heavenly bodies above.  

For the first time in a very long time, Simeon prayed before going to sleep. He pleaded for forgiveness and mercy. He prayed for a sign to save him from his inevitable fate somehow. Kneeling on the hard floor, he hoped his words could invoke the infinite benevolence of the Celestial realm to save his soul. He recited prayer after prayer, hoping that those above could excuse his lapses of judgment in his assignment to observe and understand humans. He was wrong, he had known that since the first time asked for your help. He had been so naive and confident, he had somehow lost his way.

Simeon had been so sure he could have anticipated the moment of his fall. He could have sworn all he had to do was abstain from defiling you. In his prayers, he apologized for being so simple minded, he confessed to the countless sins he committed onto your body without having tainted you. He had foolishly trusted himself too much and ended up falling for you in a way that was equally taboo.

Love.

He omitted his feelings from his prayers. If the other angels were watching, surely they would already know the truth behind his actions. It was all rooted in an intoxicating addiction to the temptation that was you. Outside of all the lewd acts, he adored you, cherished you and deeply wished he could give you the world on a platter if only he was allowed the chance to.

Yet his pride stood in the way. His stubborn need to cling onto what the Celestial realm deemed as divine kept him from sacrificing everything. Simeon hoped that his prayers would be heard as he implored the powers that be for forgiveness. If he received an answer, he could turn back. There was still time. His knees ached as he recited prayer after prayer. He hummed hymns and sang praises in a futile attempt to curry favor in his direction once more. He stayed in the corner of his room until the pain of kneeling became too much.

Ha, I must be getting old. I used to be able to do this all day...

He shouldn’t have been surprised when there was no reply from the heavens. It seemed that he was already beyond salvation in their eyes.  

If he had been a stronger man, he would have practiced decorum and slept in a separate room, or at least on the floor that night. However, Simeon was weak; weaker than he had ever thought he could be. His muscles and joints felt like they creaked when he finally got up and made his way to bed.

He was careful not to rouse you when he crawled feebly under the sheets and laid next to you. He could hear your deep breathing and the light snore coming from you as you slept soundly. Curling his body behind your own and wrapping his arms around you felt so right. Whatever resolve he had for keeping human temptations at bay dissolved as soon as you were in his arms and his own breathing evened out. The gods above had forsaken him, there was nothing left but to embrace the beautiful dreams that came whenever he was with you.

He would see you off in the morning, tell you how much he appreciated you and how much fun he had the night before. In a rare show of affection, he kissed your cheek and hugged you tightly before you set off for the day. He kept everything cordial and guarded his feelings close to his chest while you were still around him. As soon as you said your farewells and walked through his door, he felt his whole world fade into a grainy shade of gray. With every step you took, the color evaporated from his vision until there was nothing left but a dull monochrome.

Alas, it seemed the most disgraceful thing to the gods was the feeling of…

~~

Falling in love with Simeon was not something you expected when you first met him. Your intial impression when you first met him was that he did not fit your mental image of an author. You had expected someone much mousier and less refined. That first meeting changed your life. Not only did it begin your career, but it also planted a seed of affection deep in your heart for a soft spoken, eloquent, beautiful person. Pushing your feelings to the side had been easy enough in the beginning, you could pretend your infatuation was because of how star struck you were to work for the Christopher Peugeot.

Of course, you were young and naive to have thought those emotions would go away with time. Those budding feelings only took root and spread into what they were today. You were obsessed and hopelessly in love with a man who would never open up to you.

In the following days after you left, Simeon continued to distance himself. You didn’t blame him. You had a fair amount of thinking to do on your own. Life carried on as normal, or as normally as it could when there wasn’t a book being written. Simeon had requested a well deserved break from writing in order to brainstorm his next bestseller. There was the obligatory call that you had to make at the beginning of his break to ensure he would have something to present once his little vacation was over; but outside of that, you left him alone. It was likely for the best. Your one way infatuation with him had become an unhealthy obsession as of late and the distance would allow for you to properly sort your thoughts out.

You picked through a few freelance offers to edit short stories during the lull in your main work. It was boring and tedious, but it kept food on the table and your bills were paid on time. The shorter length and the sporadic nature of such work meant you had much more time to dwell on your thoughts. Without any outside influences like a nosy bartender or an overly familiar CEO, it was easier to sort out your feelings for Simeon and figure out how you wanted to proceed the next time you had a chance to meet him privately.

The fact that he still most likely had that chastity cage on his cock was not lost to you. Every time you thought about it, a pang of guilt ripped through your chest. You had done a fair number of things to push his boundaries and you couldn’t blame him if he hated you. There was a hollowness in his voice when he saw you off that rang in your head. You always thought his eyes had a bright life and joy to them, but if you thought too much about that day, you could recall how dull and dark they were even when he smiled.

You hated to think that you could be the reason why he was like that.

You wanted to contact him and maybe discuss things between the two of you, preferably without Lucifer. Your feelings and infatuation was with Simeon and no one else. After days of contemplating the events of your last session, you came to the conclusion that whether or not Simeon would fuck you was a negligible aspect of your relationship with him. You needed to stop pushing him and let him come to you when he was ready. Sure, it was frustrating when he didn’t express his needs, but you never considered that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t comfortable enough around you to do so.

He trusted his body to you. Upon reflection, it felt like you had taken everything he gave you for granted. The importance of his actions and words were all disregarded in favor of what you wanted. The guilt of such neglect ate at you from the inside. Now, the least you could do in repentance was respect his wishes and his need for space. You had expected him to reach out to you once his break started, but it had been a dead radio silence ever since he announced it. You worried about his well being constantly, checking your phone as soon as you woke and right before you went to bed for any messages. You caught yourself mindlessly refreshing your phone for hours on end, hoping that he would be the first to contact you.

Nothing.

Then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised when there was no reply to your wordless prayers.

The pain of distance you experienced now was a necessity. You needed to accept that and practice patience if you wanted to have another chance to make things right. The heartache from being so far apart for so long ate away at your soul, but you knew it was something that you deserved it. Day by day, as you continued to wait patiently, the color in your world drained away into a grainy shade of…

~~

Grey skies were common at the end of winter. They fit well with his outlook on life these days. Simeon walked a lot, now. He let his feet wander and take him to no goal in particular. It was an odd sort of meditation in a way and it let him clear his mind in a way that his home could no longer do. Every surface and corner of his abode reminded him of you. Getting out and breathing in the crisp, cold air cleansed his mind and his lungs.

He’d wander until he couldn’t feel his legs or his nose. At first, the cold winds whipped and cut his skin, making his lips crack and bleed if he spent too much time out. However, he got used to it quickly. The mixture of pain and peace brought him a calm that couldn’t be achieved elsewhere. He loved the soft quiet that came with snow. It muffled the sounds of the city as well as the sounds of his heart beating. The peaceful atmosphere soothed the frazzled edges of his mind and amplified the hollow feeling of loneliness in his chest.

Simeon didn’t take a heavy coat with him whenever he went out. A sweater was sufficient for his needs. He may or may not have received odd stares, but he couldn’t be bothered. None of those people mattered to him anyway. He only sought the approval of two beings and one of them had turned their back on him when he begged for a bit of forgiveness.

Winter was letting up slowly, giving way to chilly rains which soaked him to the bone whenever he took one of his long walks. He usually didn’t mind it, but when the rain became a downpour, he had no choice but to seek shelter somewhere until the worst of the storm was over. Looking at his surroundings, he could have laughed when he saw his feet had somehow taken him all the way to your neighborhood.

He had maybe visited you a handful of times since he first met you. It wasn’t often he got a chance to go see you considering your work revolved around him. He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice and hold you. That desire was enough to make him take a step towards your door. As he got closer, he could hear a part of him tell him to turn away before he fell any deeper for you.

Unfortunately for that rational part of him, falling didn’t scare him anymore. With the Celestial Realm averting its gaze from him, he was free to accept the darkness that he willingly cultivated within himself. If anything, it meant he was allowed to feel something besides emptiness. He didn’t deserve the chance to see you again, but it did nothing to stop the desires

Simeon was knocking on your door before he realized what he was doing. His body seemed to move on its own when it knew you were close. You drew him towards you like a moth to a flame and he would be forever entranced by you. As your door opened, a gust of warm air washed over his body and the gray world around him shattered into a thousand brightly colored pieces. “I… I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where else to go.”

His voice sounded foreign to him, the most familiar thing he knew was your soft expression as you lead him indoors away from the cold.

“You’re lucky I was in the middle of getting a bath ready.”  you said as you hurriedly shuffled his soaked frame to the bathroom once his shoes were off. An inviting tub full of steaming hot water was waiting for him when you finally got him through the door of your bath room. He took a deep breath and the scent of sandalwood and oranges filled his lungs. He recognized it as the scent that always lingered on your clothes over your perfume. Just having his senses filled with something that reminded him of you warmed him much more than the balmy temperature of the bathroom.

“I think I have something that might fit you, if not I definitely have a robe.” you mumbled to yourself, already pulling out a spare towel out of a nearby cabinet for him. “Just leave the wet clothes on the floor, I’ll throw them in the wash for you when you’re done.”

You scurried off to dig through your closet in search for spare clothes, leaving him to him to his own devices. Simeon sighed, smiling for the first time in what felt like weeks. Finally seeing you in person, he needed to accept just how much he missed you and just how whenever you were around, his world was…

~~

Colorful clothes of all sorts were strewn across your bedroom floor as you tried to find that over-sized sweater you swore you saw just the other day. You didn’t want Simeon to wear just a robe, the one you owned was likely too small for him, but it looked like you wouldn’t have a choice in that matter considering you didn’t think anything else you owned would fit him.

He had appeared at your door like the answer to your prayers. You were getting antsy from the dead air between the two of you and it had been shaping up to be another day of listlessly staring at your phone while you waited for a message. With the storm brewing outside, you had fancied a nice long bath to combat both the cold and the dreary weather. Just as you were ready to hop in, you heard the knocking at your door.

Seeing Simeon so drenched and pitiful broke your heart. It didn’t matter why, or how he had arrived at your abode, you immediately dragged him to the bath as soon as you could. He clearly needed it more than you. It also meant he deserved much better than a too small robe to wrap himself in after he was done soaking. Unfortunately, it seemed like there would be no other options considering you couldn’t find that damn sweater you were thinking about.

Tiptoeing back to the bathroom, you knocked softly before cracking the door open. “Hey, I found a robe, it… just might not fit you, sorry about that.” you apologized, feeling like a terrible host. You stuck your hand through the crack and laid the robe on the sink, ready to slink away and let him have his space. Even if you wanted to be near him, you needed to remind yourself that he would approach you when he was ready, you couldn’t rush or push him more than you already had.

You grew concerned though when he didn’t respond to your intrusion. Curiosity got the better of you and you pushed the door open a bit more to see if he was alright. The sight you were greeted with was not what you expected, to say the least.

Simeon sat in the tub, staring blankly at the tiles in front of him. He looked like he was in a daze, barely aware of his surroundings. Most concerning of all was the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to take his clothes off. He was still wearing the rain drenched sweater and faded jeans he arrived in.

“Simeon?” You called out to him, quietly padding closer to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. He turned sluggishly and gave you the barest nod. The bright blues of his eyes was so dull and dark, you worried he had somehow gotten sick in the short time you had left him on his own.

Kneeling down next to the tub, you peeled off the sodden sweater off his torso, tossing the thing into the sink before looking down at his jeans. He didn’t say anything to you as you went through the clinical actions of stripping him for the sake of his comfort. Your hand brushed against the metal bindings around his cock and he let out a hiss, the first indication that he was really aware of what was going on around him.

“Simeon, are you--”

“I’m fine.” he cut in. “I’m fine.”

There was no conviction in his voice as he tried to reassure you. He repeated those words over and over again as if they were a mantra, mumbling them under his breath. “I’m fine...”

His voice cracked when he looked at you, unshed tears being barely held back. No matter how much he told himself that the Heavens didn’t care and all he had to do was just accept the fall, he couldn’t shake off the fear of the consequences. There you were, inches away from him, calling for him as if you could hear his desperate prayers for salvation.

If the Heavenly Father would no longer listen, he at least had you. With you, any consequence was bearable.

“I’m fine. As long as I’m with you...” He whispered, pulling you closer to him for a slow, tender kiss.

When his lips met yours, a warmth blossomed throughout him. The hollow ache in his chest was immediately filled with a pleasant fluttering that spread through his limbs. Your unique aroma overpowered the perfume of sandalwood and oranges in the water. The cloying combination made him dizzy and drunk with his affection for you. The smell would forever be connected to the last temptation that made an angel fall.

His cradled the back of your head as he kissed you like it was the first time. The taste of your lips was sweeter than the ripened celestial peaches that immortals coveted so much. He breathed out slowly through his nose before taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of love and his impending fall from grace.

You moaned softly against his lips, gasping for breath from how tender yet passionate it had all been. He took that moment to swipe his tongue across your lower lip before delving into the caverns of your mouth and deepening the kiss even further. The sounds Lucifer elicited from you would be nothing compared to the songs he would get you to sing under his touch.

When he finally broke the kiss on his own terms, your lips were swollen and glistened with his saliva. The light in his eyes had returned and you noticed the familiar hard glitter of desire in them. He pulled you into a tight embrace, half dragging you into the tub with him to kiss the rest of your face and whatever skin he could get access to. You squealed in surprise, stumbling to keep your balance and pressed yourself against him. His breath was hot against your ear as he continued to press his lips everywhere he could. “I… I want you… Will you have me?”

You could barely believe what you heard. You wanted to pull away and look at him properly, but his embrace was strong and held firm. The kisses he laid on your skin traveled down your neck and you held back a shudder when he brushed across a sensitive spot. “I… is this what you want?”

“More than anything.”

He let you have a bit of distance so you could look at sincerity in his expression. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice and the glitter of desire in his eyes had changed into a bright flame of lust. There was no way you could deny such a request. You had been waiting for him to say those words for so long. The weight of guilt on your chest crumbled away and there was nothing but elation left. All the anxiety, all the waiting, all of the trials and tribulations was so worth it for the moment he earnestly asked to be with you.

“Then you shall have me.”

The smile that spread across his lips was surely divine. No one should be allowed to be as beautiful as he was. Simeon could barely believe you had agreed. He knew he didn’t deserve you; but now, he had all the time in the world to persuade you otherwise. Heavens be damned, he loved you and he had the freedom to show you exactly what that meant to him.

Removing your partially wet clothes felt like unwrapping the best present in the world. He felt like he was truly seeing you for the first time. He memorized every detail of your body with his lips, followed by his fingers. Your soft, breathy moans would be emblazoned in his mind for the rest of his life as the most holy of hymns.

He was loathed to be separated from you for any amount of time; but your knees were beginning to ache from kneeling, your position was less than ideal, and the tub was much too small to fit both of you. Begrudgingly, he let you go, only to usher you to your room with a gently wave of his hand.

“Just a moment, Little Lamb. I will follow shortly.” He reassured, his voice syrupy and low. The promises that it held sent a shiver down your spine. You hurried to the room as he directed, eagerly divesting the rest of your clothes as soon as you got the chance to.

He arrived in your room shortly after as he promised. The robe you had given had been unnecessary as he opted to have a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Even then, that was about to be a frivolous exercise in modesty as he tossed it to the side the moment he saw that you were also nude. In the dim light of your room, the metal cage he so obediently wore glimmered and the familiar feeling of guilt rushed through you.

You beckoned him over to you and you swore he purposefully put a little extra sway in his hips as he approached you. The bed dipped with his added weight and you immediately pulled him into another round of slow, sensual kisses. Now that there were no clothes in the way, you were free to explore his body just as much as he did to you.

It felt like a dream to share your bed with Simeon. You had only fantasized about the possibility of something like this happening. The moment was made more magical knowing he sought you out. He had been with you enough times to know exactly where to touch you in order to draw a moan from the back of your throat. However, there was a sort of intimacy this time around that couldn’t be denied. “Wait… Wait...” you breathlessly put a pause on everything to rummage through the drawer of your night stand.

Pulling out the tiny key to the lock on the cage, you were quick to undo the damned thing and toss it to the side. It had seemed like a great idea at first when Lucifer subtly suggested it, however it had brought nothing but anguish and guilt in the end for you. You were glad to be rid of it, the accursed thing clattered to the ground as you carelessly tossed it to the side before refocusing on the man before you. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long now...”

“And I’ve wanted you for so long.” He replied smoothly, pushing you down onto covers and resuming his ministrations. Having his cock freed from those dreaded confines meant he was free to take you as he wished. His resolve wouldn’t waver, not when he was already forsaken and he was staring love in the face. He felt like he was being reborn every with every second that passed.

Simeon’s knee pressed between your legs and you eagerly spread yourself wider for him. He contemplated for a brief moment the idea of burying his head between your legs and tasting you until you were a shivering mess from his tongue. However, the need to sate himself and lay his claim in you overrode his desire to tease you.

His hands smoothed down your thighs before he hooked your legs around his waist. “I want you. I want you. I want you so much.” He leaned forward to kiss your neck, your chest, your collarbones, your shoulders, everywhere he could get access to before his patience snapped and he finally, blissfully pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Simeon took his time, watching your expression change as every inch of him sank into you. He let out a long, guttural groan when he finally, blissfully, bottomed out inside of you. You were his sun, his moon, his stars. You were all that was good and was divine to him. He would happily desert the kingdom of gods to make you his paradise. Without you, he wouldn’t have fallen. Without you, he had no reason to live.

“Oh God, Simeon.” You whined, your eyelids fluttered as he filled you. You knew he would have taken his time, but you didn’t expect him to slide in so excruciatingly slowly. He made your body feel every ridge and vein of his cock, forcing it to memorize his shape and size, molding your cunt to fit him and only him forevermore.

“There is no God, there’s just me.” He seethed at the mention of the Heavenly Father. “There’s just me and you, and what I’m going to make you feel.”

Simeon was everything you had imagined he would be and more. He was so attentive, sweet and he knew just how to make you moan. His cock hit every spot within you that made you see stars. Though the pace he started off was languid and slow, he was quick to pick up speed when he saw just how positively you reacted to deeper and harder thrusts. It seemed like he effortlessly had you clutching onto the sheets below you and crying out for him.

“Mine.” He growled, slamming his hips into you. “Mine.”

He wouldn’t let anyone else interfere. He had made his decision and he would make sure that you could never desire anyone else ever again. His kisses turned into bites, leaving intents and marks across your body as he laid his claim. He gave everything to be with you and the feeling of being so intimately connected with you was divine.

The way you moaned his name as he railed you was unlike any other. It was his name that fell from your lips. Not some other man, not some unintelligible babbling. You were calling for him every time his cock slid home and filled you to the brim.

His desire to see you dripping with his seed only increased every time you begged him to go harder. Simeon was more than happy to comply with your wishes, letting the sound of skin slapping against skin echo in your room. The smell of sandalwood and oranges was soon overtaken by the scent of sex as you met every one of his thrusts with a roll of your hips.

Sweat plastered his hair to his face, his breath came out in heavy pants and he could feel how close you were to your climax every time you clenched around his length. “Ah, Little Lamb, will you cum for me, soon?” He asked sweetly against your ear.

“Yes, soon.” You confirmed, wrapping your legs around him tightly, urging him to keep going. Finally being filled with him was an absolutely transcendent experience that you wanted to last forever. You were afraid that the moment it was over, he would once again return to holding you politely at arms distance. It all felt like a dream to you and you didn’t want to wake up. “Fuck, Simeon! Ahhh~”

It seemed as though your body had other ideas. With how Simeon rubbed against your inner walls, you couldn’t last for the eternity you wished for. You screamed his name as your climax overtook you, the edges of your vision going white from the intensity of it. Frantically, you pulled him towards you for heated kisses as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Your walls fluttered around his cock, milking him encouraging him to follow you into bliss.

He wasn’t far behind you. The way you pussy hugged him and pulled him even deeper into you was all the encouragement he needed to finish the deed. His pace stuttered and he rammed himself home, once, twice, thrice before holding your hips still as he spilled his load into you.

Outside, the rain storm had turned to snow. A quick, bleary glance over at your window and you could have sworn the big, fluffy flakes looked like thousands of white feathers falling from the skies. Simeon groaned in content and exhaustion, feeling the last vestiges of what divinity he had leave him only to be replaced with an all consuming devotion to you.

He collapsed gracelessly on top of you, unwilling to depart from the warm confines of your pussy as he reveled in the feeling of his fall. You caught him him, cradling him against your chest and waited patiently for him to ride out his own high. “I love you.” he murmured softly, getting up just enough to kiss your forehead softly.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long.” You admitted, your cheeks warming at the affectionate gesture. “I love you, too.”

“Say it again.” he demanded, kissing your forehead again. “Say it again and again and again. Never stop saying it.”

“I love you.” You reiterated, giggling and rolling over so you were laying on his chest. “I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you, my Angel.”

The descent to Hell was a long one, but as long as you caught him when he Fell, it was worth it.

[jenomark]

Part 2

➔Pairing: Idol!Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: Public sex + Vaginal penetration + Masturbation (F+ M) + Fingering ➔Word count: 4,170

➔Summary: He’s an idol, a friend, and you took his virginity. Beginning your friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t the best idea, but you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

↞ Part 1

  They all feel how you feel when you watch him on stage, like he belongs to you. His smile just for you. Not for the camera, or the thousands viewing clips on social media, but just for you. His song performed for you, the words containing messages only you can decipher. His hips moving across the stage, the thing in his pants pointing in your direction, everything moving towards you, the girl in the crowd, the girl watching backstage, the girl sitting on her bed. No matter where you are in the world, the lights burn across your retinas, the heat in the seat of your pants making it hard for you to stay still. You move just a little bit and feel the throb below, a Venus flytrap waiting for its prey. You pretend he makes eye contact with only you, acknowledging the very existence you try to hide from everyone else. He sees you, he really does.

 The song ends and the mirage vanishes. Six people go in different directions,  smiles wiped from their faces as easily as make-up. They forget the crowd, forget what it means to be themselves when others are watching. He veers towards you just a moment before remembering where he is and who he is, and then he passes you like you’re invisible. You wonder what he was going to do if he reached you. Kissing in public is too dangerous, even talking together arouses suspicion. You wait a second and follow him, each step playing around with your heart. As you round a corner, you walk into him, your body bouncing off of his. 

“I didn’t see you,” he said.  He did.  “I’m sorry.”  He’s not. 

  His fingers are on your arm, his eyes gawking at your cleavage, his tongue licking the middle of his chin. Staff pass by and he lets you go. He steps back and leans against a wall, his body pressing against its blank canvas like a work of art. People cut between you two, but neither of you notice, or care. He smiles, raises an eyebrow, and purses his lips with the pride of a million men. 

“Come with me.” he mouths. 

  As if you have a choice, you follow him through the people, past the place you had come from. A few staff turn to see the idol boy, his greetings charming, his stage outfit sticking out like a sore thumb. No one notices the girl trailing behind him, her eyes following him with determination, her legs clamped so tightly together, even as she walks. Haechan goes down a ramp until he’s underneath the stage. You hesitate a moment before following behind him. There is something about breaking the rules that has always scared you. Since you met Haechan, you had been doing a lot of that. Though you are terrified of being recognized, no one is paying attention to you.  He hides behind large black cases on wheels, their metal clasps shiny when the strobe lights from above the stage hit them. Stacked on top of each other, no one can see what’s going on behind them. To reach him, you step over wires and broken lights that have been replaced. The moment the space swallows you up, Haechan takes your shoulders and pushes you up against the cases. He unbuttons your jeans and slides his palm in until his fingers are cupping you. The rough way he rubs his hand against you makes your knees threaten to buckle. 

“This is dangerous.” you shout.

  The sound from the music above drowns out your words. You’re afraid he can’t hear you, but then he leans in close to your ear and tells you that the danger is the best part. His tongue is on your neck for a second before his head is between your breasts. He’s greedy. His hands haven’t stopped rubbing you, your clit so sensitive and swollen that you can’t feel anything but a soft burn. When he pulls himself out from between your breasts, you can see that his make-up has worn off, and his lips are puffy from sucking and kissing your skin. The strobe lights from above the stage are peaking through the cracks, lighting up his face in brilliant hues of purple and blue.

“Hi,” Haechan says. “It’s been awhile since I last saw you.”

 He removes his hand. He doesn’t pause to tell you to taste yourself, like he normally would. Haechan’s weakness is knowing how wet he makes you, and your weakness is giving in to him every single time. He hooks his fingers on either side of your jeans and pulls them down your thighs. They’re so tight that they won’t budge past your knees without a fight. Feeling frustrated, Haechan spins you around and bends you over one of the cases. Trying to get out of his buckled stage outfit also proves difficult, but the boy is determined. His cock is in you before you look behind to see if he’s free. The feeling of him never fails to flip your whole world upside down. 

 You say his name, and you say it loudly. The music vibrates your whole body, the heavy bass perfectly timed with his every thrust. The thrill of getting caught makes you want to scream every syllable of his name, each letter like a bread crumb leading to your hiding place. You think of how the music has to stop some time, how the lights have to turn on to reveal what is bent over in the darkness, and you wonder what it will be like when it happens. 

Haechan: Are you thinking of me?

You:  You wish. 

Haechan: I’m hurt.  Ah, it’s night time back home. Are you getting ready for bed? What are you doing?

You: Not you.

Haechan: You’ve been hanging around my friends too much. Seriously, none of you are funny. 

You: Does the thought of me hanging out with your friends make you jealous?

Haechan: Yes. We both know I don’t share. I miss you. I’ve been away for too long. It feels like I’m going crazy. 

You: Donghyuck, It’s been four days. 

Haechan: That’s too long.😣 Do you miss me?

You: No. 

Haechan: I’M HURT. 

You: I have a hard time believing that. What are you doing? How was the performance?

Haechan: I think it went well. We almost dropped Mark during Cherry Bomb. Right now, I’m getting ready to eat. Taeil, Yuta and Johnny want local food. I’m really excited.

You: I hope you’re enjoying yourself. ☺️

Haechan: I am. I’ve been horny.

You: Is that all I’m good for?

  The sound of the video call made you jump out of your skin. Like always, your volume was turned all the way up. You looked at your phone and saw Haechan’s picture staring back at you. At the beginning of your relationship, he had snapped a photo of himself and set it as the wallpaper for when he calls. “Don’t show this to anyone,” he had said. “They’ll never stop making fun of me.” In the picture he was acting cute, his finger poking his cheek. The way he looked was so far removed from how you saw him most days : sexy, naked, his face screwed up in orgasm. The word Devil was still a part of his name only you had added a little red heart next to it. You stared at his face a little longer before accepting the video call. 

“What took you so long?” he asked. “I don’t have much time.”

  You could see he was sitting in a hotel bathroom, most likely on the toilet with the lid down. When he saw you looking, he held the phone up to give you a short tour of the bathroom. He showed you the tub where he said he’d like to fuck you in, the toilet he was sitting on, and the sink. You weren’t as interested in his surroundings as much as you were in seeing his face. 

“It’s nice.” you said. 

“It’s nice until Mark comes in here,” he said. “Speaking of, he went out to grab something from Jaehyun’s room, so I don’t have a lot of time before he comes back. Let me see them.”

“Them?” you asked. You were playing dumb. You knew exactly what he wanted to see.

“Ahhh,” he groaned. “Why do you do this to me?”

  In the darkness of your bedroom, you didn’t think he would be able to see you well. You lifted up your shirt, anyway, and showed him your breasts. Haechan was dramatic when you revealed them, his mouth hanging open, the sound from his throat sounding like a croak. You pulled your shirt down quickly, the disappointment showing clearly on his face.

“You can see more of them when you get back.” you told him.

“Six days,” he said. “I can wait six more days.”

  It was the first time you were separated for more than three days. It had been almost two months since you started fooling around, but he came to your apartment nearly every day to spend time with you. Haechan being a staple in your life made it harder for you when he was absent. 

  During your short period of being together, you had grown too comfortable with him. You had exerted your time, patience and body far beyond what you thought it was capable of. There were days when your emotions completely took over, your happiness cradled in the palm of his hands. You were disappointed when you couldn’t see him, his fist closing tightly around any motivation you had for anything. In the physical aspect, there were days when your muscle aches were so bad after you finished fucking that you had to use muscle relaxing patches to get through your next work day. Fucking three times a night-sometimes four- was just as time consuming as it seemed. You were losing sleep, losing interest in doing anything but thinking of new ways to make him come.

  You liked to wonder how it was from Haechan’s point of view. You didn’t know how he survived juggling his schedules, priorities, and you, all at the same time. He should have collapsed from exhaustion, or at least aroused suspicion from his members and the staff. 

  Even through all of the risks on both sides, neither of you wanted to stop when the reward felt so good. Stopping was never an option, not for you, or him. You were as addicted to him as he was to you, and you could not get enough of your drug. After you made him come, you wanted to get back on top of him, riding him until your pussy was raw, until your thighs hurt from being spread apart for so long. You didn’t know when each of you started wanting to break the other, but the obsession was seeping into every part of your life.

“Let me see your cock.” you said.

 “What?” he asked. “My cock?”

 The shyness in his voice made you smile. You tried to hide it off-camera, but he could see the way your cheeks were rising. Haechan smiled, too, his laughter directed towards the floor. In the camera, all you could see was his Balenciaga hat and the little tufts of hair curling around his ear. In between fucking, you would lay with him while he fell in and out of sleep, your fingers curling that very section of hair. In moments like that, you thought about how easy he was to love, and how hard it was to stop. He stood, turned around and placed his phone against what you thought might be the top of the sink.

“Are you sure you want to see it?” he asked. “You might not be able to control yourself.”

 Haechan lifted up his shirt and tucked the end of the fabric underneath his chin. The belt he wore around his waist barely kept his pants up. He was losing weight lately, his body being worked in every direction. He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his top button, brought his zipper all the way down until his briefs were revealed. When you saw his cock, it was soft. He rolled it around the tips of his fingers until it started growing to its full length. Your mouth watered at the sight of him. You sat up in bed, brought your knees to your chest and rested your phone against your thighs.

“How long do you think you have?” you asked.

“A few minutes.” he said.

 You didn’t have to tell him to touch himself. Haechan was already jerking himself off, looking down at his cock in his hands before looking into the phone camera. He turned to the side so you could have another angle of his body. Though it was probably wiser to keep quiet, Haechan did as he wanted. The moans filled the hotel bathroom, along with the sound of his palm around his cock. 

“Tell me you want me,” he said.  “Tell me you want your mouth around me.”

  You took your phone into your left hand. With your right hand, you dipped it into your pajama pants and started playing with your clit. Your eyes were on his cock, his fingers rhythmically moving to his deep sighs. There was something so torturous about seeing him and not being able to have him. You had to stop yourself from bringing the phone up to your face and trying to lick him through the screen.

“I want you,” you said. “I want my mouth around you.”

  You closed your eyes and imagined his cock sliding past your lips. You loved holding onto his hips and controlling how fast he fucked your face. You imagined what it would feel like to grab a handful of his ass as he did that. You tried to taste his imaginary cum, and how it would spill out all at once, like you had bitten into a delicious fruit and the juice was gushing into your mouth.

“Tell me…,” he began to say, his words breathless. “Tell me I’m the only one.”

“You’re the only one.”

  You were moaning with him, your voices rising in unison. Having sex via video call wasn’t what you had planned for the night, but you knew it was a vital part of your life. 

“Tell me-”

“-Tell you what? Anything. I will tell you anything.” you said.

“Tell me goodbye, Mom, I’ll talk to you later.” he said. 

  Your eyes snapped open as the video call ended. His selfie flashed for a second before disappearing. You were nearing climax, but the confusion made you stop touching yourself. You took your hands away from your pussy and read the text coming through.

Haechan: Fuck. Sorry. Mark. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. 

  You dropped your phone beside you and sunk back into your sheets, your pussy full of nothing but regret.

“Are you crazy?” you asked. “You shouldn’t be here.

“I wanted to see you.”

  He stood in front of your apartment at midnight, his hat low over his eyes, a face mask over his mouth. The way he looked reminded you so much of the night you realized you wanted him in very compromising positions. You had grabbed the first jacket from your entryway, which just so happened to be one of his that he left. You hugged it tightly around your body, the smell of him wafting into your nostrils.

“Just see me?” you asked.

He laughed. “Yes. Now that I’ve seen you, I can go.”

“You and I both know that you can never just go.”

“Perhaps I am crazy,” he said. “But I am also tired. Jet lag. I should be resting.”

“Don’t let me stop you then.” 

  You stood with a lot of distance between you. The way you were feeling as you looked at him felt foreign to you. Normally, you would barely talk before you stumbled into your apartment, tearing off each others clothes, pushing things onto the floor to fuck on the hallway table. With your whole relationship about the benefits rather than the friendship, it was easier to direct. You didn’t know how to handle moments when you were both forced to act like two non-feral people.

  You felt like you wanted to tell him everything you’d went through since he’d been gone. You wanted to grab a bite to eat where no one knew his name, sitting cross-legged on the floor, and watching him eat his fill. Wanting those things made you unsure about how you truly felt.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked. “This is a one-time offer.”

“Okay.” you answered.

  You shut and locked the door to your apartment. When you turned back to him, his arm was extended. You looked down at his hand. Those hands had been all over your body. Sometimes you watched those hands touching other people and wondered what they would think if they knew they had been inside of you.

 Losing his nerve, Haechan pulled it back before you could take it. Without saying anything, you moved beside him and took his hand back. If he wanted to hold hands, you would give him what he wanted. You both walked half a block before you spoke.

“How was travelling?” you asked.

“Fun, “ he said. “I feel lucky. I’m so grateful for the opportunities. I like it. How was your time while I was gone?”

 You didn’t know how to answer truthfully so you just agreed that your time was equally as fun. Work days blended together when you had nothing to look forward to. You didn’t like to admit that you weren’t sure what day it was, or that so much of your life revolved around him. Luckily, he didn’t press you any further. It’s not that Haechan didn’t care what you were feeling inside, just that his outlook on life stayed blissfully positive, and you didn’t want to be the one to take that away from him.

“The clubs are still open,” Haechan pointed out. “I could use a drink right now.”

 You knew that holding hands in public was the worst thing you could do that wasn’t behind closed doors. You never knew who could be watching, their phones clicking away like the ringing of a cash register. The people stumbling out of the clubs could be people you worked for, or worked with. All it took was for one person to recognize Haechan and the fun would be over. You thought about letting go of his hand, but you didn’t want to. He sensed your fear and directed you away from the crowds exiting the club. 

“It will be okay,” he said. “As long as you’re with me, nothing will happen.” 

 You walked a few blocks before turning back to your apartment. The walking was aimless. After the club, you only came across a few people grabbing late night snacks at a convenience store. In the world the night had created, you both began to act more boldly. Haechan’s laugh was loud, his happiness contagious for people who passed you by. He brought you to him for back hugs, his arms squeezed tightly around you, his chin digging into your shoulder. Halfway back to your place, he got a message on his phone that stopped both of you in your tracks. You watched his face falter, his eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“It will be okay,” he said, repeating his line from earlier. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s just be here together.”

 You walked the rest of the way in a weird silence. You kept looking over at him to figure out was wrong. Worst case scenario: everyone found out about what you two were doing. Best case scenario? You didn’t know, but you were hoping to find out one day.

“This is where I leave you, my princess.” he said. 

 You stood in front of your door. Hearing him call you his Princess made you want to giggle. In the beginning of your relationship, it was Haechan who reacted in such a way. Taking his virginity made him a little dependent on you. He often giggled when you suggested new positions, or told him how pretty you thought he was. Now that you were far into knowing each other in the most intimate ways, it was you who couldn’t stop becoming so giddy every time he opened his mouth. He could see his affect very well. You wore it hugged closely around your body, just like his jacket.

“Be careful walking home.” you said.

  Haechan took a step forward. His figure was sexy, his eyes mentally undressing you. You thought that he might stay a little longer and fuck you on your apartment steps. Instead, he kissed you, his lips petal soft. As he pulled away, you could barely open your eyes to look at him. He backed away from you, his trademark smirk faltering just a little.

  He stopped to look at you after making every move. For anyone else, you would have faked your enjoyment, but for Haechan, everything was honest. If he touched you, your body quaked in response. You couldn’t stop your eyelids from fluttering, your body from moving up the bed to get away from his persistence. If he made you feel good, you let him know with your shortness of breath, your knuckles clenched around the sheets.

“You make the funniest faces when you orgasm.” he observed.

  You resisted the urge to take the pillow from underneath your head and whack him with it. Haechan sat between your legs, your knees hooked over his thighs. Often, you sat like this when you both felt too lazy for much else. He would play with your pussy for what felt like hours, his fingers pushing into you to see how many you could take. He would trace your labia with his fingertips, draw love hearts on your clit. He loved the way you looked when you were wide open for him, loved you shaved and unshaven. 

“It’s a compliment,” he said when he sensed your hostility. “I love everything about you, especially how ugly you look when you’re on top .”

  You clamped your legs shut, trapping his arm. He laughed gleefully, pushing your legs back open before climbing up your body. He laid across you, his full body weight crushing yours. 

“You’re heavy.” you said.

  Haechan flopped his body around, like a fish, until you felt his weight even more. You wheezed dramatically. The way you both joked around always made your day better. Laughing with him eased a lot of stress from your daily life. You used your hands to squeeze his cheeks. When he made a fishy face, you kissed his lips. 

“I could stay like this all day.” you said.

“Not me,” he said. “I don’t want you lying on your back the whole time.”

 You rolled your eyes, and he jokingly got offended. You pulled his neck down so that you could kiss him again. You made out like that, your naked bodies on top of each other, for awhile. The concept of time didn’t matter when you were together. There were times when you were thankful that all you did was have sex with each other. There was no fighting, no expectations, and nothing that could be torn apart if it wasn’t together to begin with. When your phone lit up, both of you pulled away.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“How am I supposed to know?”

  Haechan took one look at your phone lit up on your night stand and pushed it off. It clattered onto the floor, your protective case splitting in two. You started to get up to check on it, but he pushed you back down. He got onto his knees and pushed your legs up so that your ass was lifted off the bed. His distraction tactics were good, you had to give him that.

“I’ll buy you a new phone.” he said. 

 Haechan took your hands and interlocked his fingers with yours. When he entered you, your mind forgot the phone altogether. The way he moved wasn’t his normal fast pace. Haechan liked to fuck you hard, each orgasm strong and earth shattering. Passionate was not a word you often used to describe what you and him did in the bedroom. As he moved inside of you, he lowered his body down over yours until he was hugging you. He kissed you as deeply as he was thrusting.

10:02 a.m.

Haechan: You’re not answering your phone

10:03 a.m.

Haechan: Call me back

10:46 a.m.

Haechan: I’m sorry I left so many voicemails I don’t know what to do 

11:00 a.m.

Haechan: Pick up your phone

11:16 a.m.

Haechan: Johnny knows. He’s on his way to your apartment. Don’t tell him anything.

[not-krys]

WIP Wednesday: All I Ever Wanted [IkeRev]

[image from ao3commentoftheday]

This was meant to be an entry for Fictober this year, but it just wasn’t working, so it got scrapped.

Basically, it was going to a Zero birthday story based on one of collection event stories where he and MC are bathing together for the first time. Was gonna make it spicy but it just didn’t want to go towards the spice and I was left frustrated.

Anyway, regular warnings, this is raw and unedited and not finished, so have fun reading what could have been.

-----

The light sounds of splashing could be heard against the cold tile of the bathroom walls as Zero entered the tub with you. Your knees were up against your chest, further covered up by a large washcloth. Despite this originally being your idea, that the two of you could becoming closer by bathing together, when the time came for the actual deed, both of you just ended up staring at each other awkwardly across the tub.

Well, more like he was staring at you and you were the one trying not to look at him. It wasn't like you hadn't see him naked before (and he's seen you, of course), so why was being in a bath together suddenly make you feel so self-conscious all of a sudden?

"Hey," Zero asked carefully, "You okay?"

You finally looked over at him, his expression as calm as ever with his blue eyes trained on you, trying to sense what it was that was bothering you.

"Yeah," you replied, "I just didn't realize how intimate this was going to be when I came up with the idea."

Not to mention, though the bathtub was spacious enough, it wasn't made for two adult sized people at the same time. You felt if you relaxed your legs, you would accidently kick Zero in one of his most vulnerable places and then you'd both be sorry.

Zero nodded, understanding.

"Would you prefer to bathe separately then?" He moved his hands to the side of the tub, already pulling himself up to get out.

You gasped and took hold of one of his wrists to stop him.

"Wait, no!" As if you would ruin his bath time after you both just got here. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. "It's okay. I wanted us to bathe together and… I still do."

Still standing above you, Zero smiled, glistening in the light.

"Then, let's try something else."

With careful lifting and side stepping, Zero sat himself behind you this time, holding you closer. The warmth of his skin, whether it was from the steamy bath water or he was just always warm to your touch, seeped into you and helped you to calm down.

"Not so bad now, is it?" You couldn't see his face anymore, but his strong arms circling you told you just as much as his words could.

"Better, yeah."

Zero hummed in approval, brushing some damp stray hairs from your neck. You both sat in silence for a few moments before he reached out his hand towards the nearby stand.

"Do you usually wash your hair first, or your body?" His fingers brushed lightly against the two bottles beside him, shampoo and body wash.

It was a good thing your back was to him, else you probably couldn't blame the water temperature on your flush cheeks for long.

"H-hair first. It's been a few days, so it needs a good wash."

You then felt nimble fingers tangling themselves in your hair, wet and sweet-smelling shampoo soon lathering up in your hair.

"Jonah recommended this one, so sorry if it smells a little strong." His hands were gentle, his short nails massaging your scalp and running through the length to make sure he cleansed as much as he could. "He said there's different kinds of natural oils in it to help with softness and shine."

"It kinda smells like strawberries too," you giggled.

"Not surprising, if Jonah recommended it." Zero chuckled and leaned your head back, so he could reach your hairline easier. "Maybe this is why he always smells like strawberry mille-feuille all the time."

"And not because he eats them all the time?"

"That part helps."

You both chuckled as Zero finished washing and rinsing your hair, freshly washed and smelling of strawberries. Zero then reached for the body wash and lathered up another washcloth. He started rubbing small circles across your shoulders.

"I can do your back and shoulders if you want to do everything else?" he offered.

You shivered lightly at his sudden touch, biting down on your lip to try and stop the noise that just tried to escape.

"S-sure," Zero's person-washing skills were more powerful than you had previously thought.

[joyfulsongbird]

“Eurydice finds out she's pregnant after going to hadestown and Persephone makes hades let her go back to Orpheus.”

🦥 anon, it wouldn’t let me post it as a reply to an ask so here we go: I meant this to be short but 5000+ words burst from my fingertips so here you go.

I had to change it slightly so that Eurydice has the baby BEFORE Seph gets back (assuming she’s about one to two months pregnant, which wouldn’t be showing yet, when she goes to hadestown) cause Seph leaves and doesn’t come back for six months.

***

work, work, work

constant, pulling, weight on her shoulders, never ending

gods, she’s tired

so tired

she’s never been this tired before

will it ever end?

la la la la la la la

two voices, so many souls. her mouth is closed and she’s screaming, echoing, crying.

and then the bell, the signal that this is not never ending. that work doesn’t last to the end of time, that Hadestown has some mercy for it’s workers. for the people who cry at the foot of the wall every day, except now they are tearing it down. and they cry, they cry, they cry for all of the blood and sweat that went into building and now their tears sink into the mortar, slowly tearing down what they dedicated their life to. what they believed would save them from poverty. and now mister Hades, every morning, reminds them that the wall must come down. that someday, they will see the sunshine again. he doesn’t speak in that hopeful tone, of course not, but Eurydice hears it.

she hears it and hopes. she hears that he is reaching for them with this withered outstretched hand that hasn’t known mercy for so long, and she’s taking it. and saying “this is what it’s like to be merciful”.

look me in the eyes and see what it is to forgive.

for she knows forgiveness like the back of her hand. she knows forgiveness like the deepness of his eyes. knows forgiveness like that the pit of hunger in her stomach. she knows forgiveness. he does not. she can teach him, she can teach him. teach them. It’s only been about two or three months since Persephone went back for spring, it could be longer than that, could be shorter. what is time in Hadestown? there is only the toll and the wall and the crumbling of what they lived for.

she drops her hands to her sides, still coated in grime, her body aching to stretch her hands towards the sky (well, what they call the sky, it isn’t that, it is red and dark and unforgiving). it’s under her fingernails, it’s in her hair, it’s on her cheeks. she is a full fledged creature, with mud on her body like camouflage. she is a machine, work, move, clean, again. what is cleanliness if you are just going to get dirty again tomorrow?

and what is germs in Hadestown? there is no sickness here. that’s what they were promised. a warm place of wealth and no pain. they don’t get sick, they don’t get cold, they don’t go hungry. that’s what was promised to them. but she can’t feel anymore. yes, now she can remember his face, remember his voice, but now... now she feels nothing when she sees his face.

it’s definitely worse.

it’s like she’s looking at the face of a boy she saw in passing on the street. she knows that she loved him, that she still loves him. but there is nothing in her memories that twinges her feelings back into what they were. she sees everything through her own gaze, she knows that at some point she felt these emotions that were so extreme that she cried real tears, that she laughed with this joyousness that filled the entire room. she remembers how he looked at her. with reverence. with love. how he smiled every time she entered a room, and she smiled too. she knows that she smiled too, she remembers that.

she goes through her routines, goes to her shared apartment flat with two other women. they never really speak, they don’t even make eye contact most of time. Eurydice just taps her foot against the floor, waiting for her turn in the shower. directly across the wall, one of her roommates, Afra, stands there. doing the same thing; waiting, listening, all impatiently. Eurydice doesn’t know her well, doesn’t know how she got here but she assumes they all came for the same reasons. security. safety. or maybe, just to get away. Eurydice is sure that if she’d known about Hadestown when she was a younger girl, living in a home with people she loathed, with people who loathed her, she would’ve flown off to hadestown long ago.

Eurydice gets the shower next, stepping into the already steamy small room with the tub and rusty shower head against the wall. the mirror is fogged up and Eurydice leaves it that way, there’s no need to see herself this way. there’s no need to see herself at all. what’s the point down here? who needs mirrors in hell?

shedding her outer layers, she steps right into the shower, watching as the water below fills with dirt and grime, turning it a muted gray color, she stands there until the water turns clear again. she scrubs aimlessly at her skin with the soap bar for a minute or two, trying to feel clean but the dirt stays no matter what she does. it’s under her nails. it’s in her hair. it’s under her skin. she’ll never be rid of it. she’ll never get rid of-

she doubles over in the shower, the dizziness catching her off guard.

“woah, okay.” she murmurs to herself, reaching to clutch the slippery edge of the tub, steadying herself. it passes after a brief ten seconds but she steps out of the shower after that, turning off the water for fear of falling and hitting her head. she knows, objectively, that she can’t really be hurt here in Hadestown but old habits die hard.

dressing slowly and carefully, she addresses the main problem here is that both her head and her stomach are killing her.

well actually the largest looming problem here is: you don’t get sick in Hadestown.

Oh gods, does she have to be the anomaly here?

she’d like to just be normal, just blend into the crowd, but no, she has to be different. she has to stick out like a sore thumb in every place.

before she even knows what’s going on, she’s thrown up what little she’d eaten that day. it makes her feel a little better but sweat makes her forehead sticky, her whole body feels shaky and not quite right.

“Eurydice?” Afra’s voice is unsure of itself, they don’t often use their voices down here. “everything okay in there?”

“yes.” Eurydice calls back. “I’m fine.”

Is she?

she feels something for the first time in awhile: fear.

***

it was all very simple, she should’ve added it up the first time she threw up, so long ago. but it isn’t until she looks in a long mirror for the first time, wearing only her underclothes that she notices something.

no.

gods, no.

she doesn’t make an appointment with Hades, like he says you’re supposed to when you need to speak with him. this is too important, this is too much of his own fault that she has to speak him right then. she wants to cry, she needs to cry but she can’t. so she runs, so she runs as fast as she can until she’s at the doorsteps of the dark building where she knows he resides almost all of the hours of the day.

the door is unlocked, surprisingly, and she just walks in. down dark halls, ignoring the shadows that paint fear across her body. that’s the one thing she can feel nowadays, fear for herself, fear for Orpheus, fear for everything, for their unborn child. no child has been born in Hadestown to her knowledge, a desolate place like this cannot sustain a new life like that. it sucks life away, it tears families apart.

it’s relatively easy to find his office, it’s the only room that’s doorknob isn’t coated with dust and the door is slightly ajar, letting stark light stream into the dark hall.

she bursts inside before she even has time for a second thought.

he’s at his desk, pen in hand, paper in the other. his eyes raise to hers the moment he notices her presence.

“miss Eurydice-”

“cut the bullshit, Hades, why am I still here?”

“I-” she holds up her hand, cutting him off somehow. such an impressive, looming presence usually, but when a women on a mission is in front of him, he never knows what to do. she starts pacing back and forth, in front of his desk. clenching and unclenching her fists. should she punch him? no, no, nothing like that. she didn’t come here for violence... why did she come here? what was her mission when she set out to come here? she doesn’t know, she just knew that she had to get here.

“I thought I’d just be able to live my life in peace. In complete solidarity. That’s what you promised me. you told me I’d get- you said I’d be good here.”

“and didn’t I deliver?” he said, his rumbling voice carrying through the office. across the desk that was separating them. “aren’t you at peace?

she felt something lodged in her throat, she tries to swallow it but the effort makes her voice come out choked. “not anymore.”

suddenly, she feels everywhere. suddenly, she’s so full of feeling her knees nearly crumple to the ground. leaning against the desk. she still doesn’t cry. no, there’s almost too much feeling for that. her whole body is overwhelmed, for so long she felt nothing that this sudden feeling is almost causing her to double over in the pain. it’s fiercely coursing through her veins, her shaking knees could be from the fear or the feeling, she can’t tell.

Hades is up and holding onto one of her arms, his touch surprisingly gentle and uninvasive. he keeps her steady, while guiding her to come sit on a couch on the side of the wall.

“sit here.” he says, his voice shockingly calm and... kind. “I’ll get a glass of water.”

he busies himself with a pitcher of water that sits on his desk, and an empty glass beside it. Eurydice fiddles with the rings on her fingers, trying to sort her mind out, trying to figure out how to say it.

he’s pouring a glass of water. for her.

“I’m pregnant.”

he stops pouring.

he doesn’t turn around either. “your boy...”

“It’s Orpheus’, I’m positive.”

“how long?”

“I only just realized today. I didn’t know who to tell, Lady Persephone is gone and I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

he’s being surprisingly calm, for a man with no children and no real relationship with Eurydice besides one layered with negative emotions.

“you don’t work for the time being.” he says after a moment of consideration. he turns around, holding a glass of water in one of his hands to face Eurydice’s gaping face. “I need to speak with my wife, but that can’t happen for another few months. So you don’t work and keep busy within what’s left of the walls.”

“what am I supposed to do? for those four months?” she has no idea when she’ll be due, the uncertainty of it is making her feel shaky. the fear strikes her again and she turns her to the side, not making eye contact with Hades again for fear of crumpling in on herself again. she purses her lips.

“I can tell you’re scared,” he begins.

“I’m not-” she starts.

“you younglings always try to convince everyone else that you aren’t terrified,” he thrusts the glass of water into her hand, giving her a pointed look.

“like you’re one to talk.”

he sighs. “only you could sass me when I’m trying to help you.” embarrassment faintly paints Eurydice’s cheeks a blush color, but it fades quickly. “let me continue.

“I can tell you’re scared,” he repeats. “but I’ll promise to protect you and your child, I may be a lot of terrible things but one thing I will never do is force a mother and her child apart. you’ll go back to your apartment and get some rest, tell your roommates that you don’t need to get up for work tomorrow, by special permission of Hades, and I’ll try to get in contact with my wife. But I have a feeling we won’t be able to have a full discussion until she gets back from summertime.”

Eurydice nods and takes a couple sips from that glass of water, her hand shakes so much, she knows that if there was ice in the glass they’d be able to hear the clinking of the two solids. but for now, she tries to act like she isn’t slowly crashing and burning.

Orpheus

Orpheus, you have a child

and he doesn’t know it. he may never know it.

“my child will be doomed to this life, won’t they?” she whispers, eyes downcast. “if-if I give them to Persephone before spring, will they be able to go Up Top? would it be possible?”

he sighs, the sound is burdened. “I don’t know. A child has never been born here before, so I don’t know.”

she stares at the surface of the water, rippling with little currents and waves from her trembling hand. “they will never know grass, or happiness, or love-”

“no.” Hades says firmly, he steps closer, he brushes her knuckles with his fingertips, unsure of what to do as a comfort. but his words are comfort enough. “your child will know love, you will love them and that is love enough.”

she purses her lips tight together, she still does not cry, she still has yet to cross that threshold of pure feeling.

“go home, get some sleep.” it’s a command, almost, like everything Hades says is. she could always refuse but instead of standing up to him like she usually prefers to, she nods, because she could use some sleep in times like now.

***

Eurydice had forgotten love until Calista.

she knew love well before Hadestown but in that span of few months, she forgot what it was like to love. to love something with this fierceness you can’t control, and to have that ability feels powerful. she felt like a monster before, but holding a child close to her chest is what makes her feel human again.

yes, they are still in Hadestown, but when life finds ways to spring up, it flourishes.

she’s moved apartments since finding out about the baby, to a smaller one, a studio with a bathroom and a tiny kitchen but it’s just for her and her daughter. people know that the only current mother in Hadestown lives there, her neighbors seem to brighten at the sight of her child. their darkness when they come back from work slides away for just a little bit of light when Callie smiles at them from afar.

her daughter brings hope, and Eurydice couldn’t be more proud. she doesn’t even know it yet, but Callie is really the carnation in the winter, she’s the light in the dark, the song in the silence.

And Persephone comes back and is immediately pointed in the direction of Eurydice’s apartment by Hades, with barely even a kiss on the cheek, she’s worried something bad has happened. It’s a combination of good and bad in her opinion.

she knocks on the door and a voice calls, “come in!”

Persephone, not knowing what she’ll find, steps inside tentatively. “Hades said to- oh my lords.”

Eurydice sits cross legged on her small bed, a baby sitting in her lap with the widest smile she’s ever seen on a child. she has her mothers eyes, even from here Persephone can see the dark color, the deepness of them.

“hi.” Eurydice begins. Persephone closes the door loudly, accidentally making Eurydice and the baby jump. she surges forward, first taking the young woman’s face in her hands, cupping her cheeks and brushing her cheeks with her thumbs.

“please tell me it’s Orpheus’.” Eurydice nods.

“It is” she assures, “look, she has his nose and you can just see, his hair, too.”

“she’s lovely.” Persephone sighs, sinking to sit beside Eurydice. Persephone brushes Eurydice’s bangs away from her eyes, she notices that they are freshly cut and a little jagged and uneven. she’ll ask about that later. “how old is she?”

“A month.” Eurydice answers immediately, her smile is genuine and Persephone can tell, there is love. a deep, motherly love that Persephone has only ever experienced when she looks at the young girl who turned into a young woman while she was away Up Top. “she came a little early, and I was worried, but she’s doing well now.”

“what’s her name?”

“Calista.” Eurydice says, gently tracing her daughter’s ears and tiny nose. “I started calling her Callie, though, and never stopped.”

“Callie.” Persephone repeats. “I love that.”

“me too.” Eurydice bites her bottom lip, before the real dawning of Persephone being here hits her. her expression barely changes and her tone of voice doesn’t at all but Persephone can feel the shift in the air.

“how is Orpheus doing?”

Persephone continues stroking through her black hair, untangling the knots like she imagines a mother would. “he just started singing again. only the past month or so. his voice sounds different after so long with so little use but it’s just as beautiful as it was when you knew him.”

Eurydice lifts Callie a little higher, adjusts her in her arms so that the child lies with her head in the crook of her elbow. “I’m sad that she’ll never get to meet him.”

she says it simply, she’s already accepted the fact, but underneath that is the lingering of sadness that lies there. an undercurrent of disappointment that Persephone came alone. she’d probably had the tiniest grain of hope and Persephone came empty handed.

“well!” she stands up, straightening out the creases in her dress. “I’d better get to the house, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my husband up close.”

Eurydice smiles. “alright. see you again really soon?”

“of course.” Persephone plants a kiss on both girl’s heads and heads out the door, blinking away the sharp burn of tears.

***

she walks into Hades’ office and before she can even get the words out, he waves his hand at her without looking up from his ever important paperwork.

“I’m sending her up, don’t worry.”

she opens and closes her mouth. “I thought it might take some convincing.”

he scowls down at his desk. “I’m not heartless. I saw her when she first found out, the selflessness in that girl...” he shakes his head. “she was concerned about not being able to love her kid enough. not being able to provide that for her. she wanted to send Cal up there with you in the spring without her? you know that? the insanity in her, that I’d separate a mother and her child.”

Persephone steps around her and plants a firm, smiling kiss on his lips. Surprising him and pulling him away from his paperwork. “I love you.”

a smile twitches at his lips. “I love you too?”

“so,” Persephone says, promptly taking a small step back. “Eurydice and Callie will come up on the train with me in the spring?”

“as soon as I get all the paperwork in order. this is a... unique situation to say the least.” he turns back to his work, Persephone stands and watches for a moment, before planting one more soft kiss to the top of his head and heading out to get a drink. she can’t tell Eurydice yet, because if it doesn’t come true she’ll be heartbroken but knowing that she’ll be able to take the two of them up with her in the spring will be a joyous moment.

only six months until the couple that became a family gets reunited.

***

Children grow fast, this is something that Eurydice was never told. by the time Callie is seven months old, Eurydice has watched her learn to crawl, learn to reach and to touch and to smile. it still scares her sometimes, that maybe she isn’t meant for this? maybe she’s not cut out for this kind of thing. she’s already had to reason with herself over several things that just dig into her scalp, telling her Callie deserves a better mother. she had to bottle feed her, for god's sakes, her body seems to be malnourished enough and overworked enough that she can’t give that to her daughter. she has to take care of herself too, is what Persephone keeps telling her. she has to give herself a little attention too, give herself some love as well.

she faces Hades one last time in front of the train, he says he’s there to see Persephone off but Eurydice is glad that he’s there.

“thank you,” she says, lifting her chin to look him right in the eyes. “for all that you did for me and Callie, and for you are doing for Orpheus. he doesn’t know it yet, but he will be very thankful to you.”

“don’t say things like that,” he says, voice extra gravelly with the sadness of his wife leaving, but he tries to hide it. “I would never have hired you if I’d known...”

“neither of us knew, I would never have agreed to go if I’d known.”

a small silence stretches between them, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, a year ago she despised this man. everything about him made her heart shudder in her chest, but now... she’s seen his mercy and can’t help but feel that it was there all along.

she holds out her hand to shake his. “thank you, I will make sure to let Calista know as she grows older all that you have done for us.”

he lets out a chuckle as he takes her hand. “I’m sure she will also know all I have done against you.”

“in my opinion, it evens out. thank you.” she drops his hand and climbs onto the train, her stomach starting to swirl in her stomach.

She tries to remind herself of all that she’s been told by Persephone, love herself and that has to be enough, as she climbs the train, she’d handed Calista over to Persephone while Eurydice puts her things on the train. her heart beats so fast, this rhythm of readiness, of anticipation.

thump, thump, thump

Get Callie, she’s getting fussy in another woman’s arms.

thump, thump, thump

Sit down in a seat before the train starts moving.

thump, thump, thump

“if it isn’t my favorite songbird.” a withered voice comes from the front of the train car.

“Hermes.” Eurydice breaths, she speeds her steps up to meet him halfway and throws her arms around his neck. she buries her face in the man’s shoulder, letting him gently hold her like a father would hold a daughter, gently, calmly. he pulls back after barely five seconds.

“you takin’ the train?” she nods with something like tears stinging in the back of her eyes but they aren’t close to falling, yet. Hermes’ smile stretches almost all the way to his eyes, wrinkles creasing on his forehead. “he’ll be waiting for Seph, right by the station.’

Eurydice smiles but her heartbeat is still flurrying over her entire chest, heat spreading across her whole body like a licking fire. she needs a distraction from her shaking hands and churning stomach. Hermes pats her cheek affectionately, finally looking over her shoulder and squinting at Persephone holding the infant in her arms. he narrows his eyes, like he’s seeing a mirage and isn’t sure exactly what he’s seeing.

Eurydice breaks away from him, going to Persephone to take her daughter from the other woman’s arms. “this is your kind of granddaughter, Calista.”

“a lovely name for a lovely girl.” Hermes smiles in that way he always does when he knows something, when he looks at someone and can see their future. Eurydice always feels exposed whenever Hermes looks at her, like he knows what goes on in her head every day. like he knows all of her fears and hopes and emotions. the train starts moving in that moment and Eurydice has to sit down, holding Callie in her lap, pulling her tightly against her chest.

they move through tunnels, the dim lights of the mines flash through the windows every once in awhile, flushing the four of them in a golden glow, turning Persephone’s green dress into a brownish color, splashing across Hermes face briefly and throwing shadows like the darkness of the wall falling over her. she hasn’t worked on the wall in months, hasn’t gone into the mines in about as long, but it still haunts her. to forget how to feel, though since Orpheus came and left, the place improved it still left her feeling like there a life she was missing out on, the other half of her. or maybe it just was that her other half was Up Top. Callie taught her to remember feeling, taught to feel again altogether. and when she begins to whimper in the dark of the train, her heart stutters and all she wants is to make her smile again.

“shhh,” Eurydice murmurs, bounding the little girl on her knee briefly. “it’s alright, love, shh.”

even just her voice soothes the child and she quiets, she is normally not the most emotional infant, though they all cry, Eurydice knows that from her younger siblings. she takes after her mother in that, she only gets emotional really when Eurydice gets emotional. so now, when Eurydice is nervous and fidgety and on edge, the girl picks up on it and begins to cry. she calms herself, taking deep breath and pressing a kiss to her daughters soft bed of dark brown hair.

it’s a longer train ride than Eurydice would think, so they sit in silence, contemplative over what is to come, over what is going to happen when those doors open and sunshine floods the train car. when Orpheus is right before her what will she say? what will she do? he doesn’t even know she’s coming, he’ll be happy to see her, won’t he? yes, yes, he will. she knows this, she knows he loved her, and hopes for that present tense to re-enter the assuredness of her vocabulary. she loves him, simple as that, and he will love what she brings with her.

as light starts to flood the car, she closes her eyes, feeling the warmth flood through her body. the familiar scent of the dirt and the trees, the sound of chattering voices and birds beginning to chirp, everything so familiar yet so foreign. the last time she was this anxious to step outside was during The Walk and she never stepped foot outdoors during that. she’s both ready and most definitely not.

“here,” Persephone says. “I’ll take Cal, and you can step out by yourself. take a look about, greet old friends without this little one in your arms.”

reluctantly, Eurydice relinquishes Callie into Persephone’s arms. she stands, ready to face her fate, ready to smell the earth, bask in the sunlight. she is here, she is full of light, she is ready.

she’s ready.

the train car opens by itself and she steps out, shading her eyes with her hand to gaze over the crowd, which a hush falls over. she is known here, though she looks different. though having been pregnant and gave birth, she’s lost weight. the doctors she saw worried for Callie’s health, when Eurydice has spent her whole life only getting just enough to eat and too often in Hadestown she neglected to eat, after the pregnancy especially, it seemed. she just simply... forgot to take care of herself sometimes. those were the days where she got talks from Persephone, lectures from Hades, both about taking care of herself not just for herself, for Calista. she tried her best, but old habits die hard. she looks more tired now, her hair now just brushing the very tops of her shoulders but the bangs freshly cut. every few months, or when she was feeling especially restless, she would go to the bathroom with a pair of scissors and retrim her bangs. what a great influence she’ll be on her kid.

and in the crowd, in the very back of the crowd, is a boy just a little bit older and more tired looking. and his eyes are raised to hers. his mouth is forming the first syllable of her name, with a question in his eyes. is this real? are you real?

and she wants to run to him and say yes yes yes yes im real this is real this is true

but she can’t move until Hermes walks up beside her, loops his arm through hers and begins to walk her down the steps of the station. the crowd parts for them and Eurydice can’t help but see the imagery of it all. like a bride walking down the aisle, she is being given away for the second time in her life. the first, she gave away herself, in secret. not an elopement but a ritual in which they were “married”. this time, she is given away to this life that she once gave up. here, she is being given permission to step back into this life, she is being given permission to look him in the eyes, to speak to him. he gives her away and leaves her there at the altar- or rather, right in front of Orpheus- and leaves her there, blending back into the crowd.

“how- how... what are you- how are you-?” he runs a hand through his hair, just looking at her, just... looking. “Eurydice-”

when he says her name, her entire body feels like it will combust and she can’t just stay standing there. it feels like their first kiss: happening before she knows what’s happening and over before she wants it to. whistles break out through the crowd, a laughter spreading through the silence. the tension breaks and she’s left just feeling his hands at her waist, and his face close to hers, his breath against her cheeks, fluttering her eyelashes against the breeze.

“how-?” he asks again.

she licks her lips, unsure of how to say it. “I’ll show you.”

Persephone is already walking towards them, holding Callie to her chest. Orpheus, the ever confused, just stares. the two dots not yet connected yet, so he must say the first thing that comes to mind.

“congratulat-”

Persephone shakes her head and laughs. “no, poet.” and hands Callie to Eurydice.

he watches with wide eyes as Eurydice holds the child in one arm and with the other, adjusts Orpheus’ arms so that she can gently place the girl in his arms. she holds both his arms and the baby for a moment before removing her hands and stepping back. his eyes flick from Eurydice, down to the infant, and then back to Eurydice in a panicked state.

“her name is Calista, she’s seven months old... and she’s your daughter.”

Orpheus lets out a huge, deep, shuddering sigh that feels somehow close to tears. he finally looks down and admires the face of the girl in his arms, and as he does, Eurydice tells him about her.

“she has your nose, and your hair, but my eyes. she’s not very talkative but she likes to be read to before going to sleep, and she always, always prefers to sleep close to me, or close to a person. she’s like you, she loves to listen. and she loves people-”

she stops herself at the sight of his face, smiling but filled with this sorrowful inside. “I can’t believe- I missed a whole life starting... Eurydice, she’s so beautiful.”

“not your fault, Orpheus, neither of us knew.” she murmurs. “and now, we’re here.”

“you’re home.”

[dcnatural]

When The Lights Go Out

Word Count: 3045

Pairing: Sister!Reader x Dean

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: Left by themselves, Y/N and Dean Winchester explore their motel and throw a "party" in the bathtub.

The moon illuminated the night sky, casting a pale glow that barely allowed you to see ahead. The wind blew the rain all around you, and you shivered in cold, despite being an unusually hot day. From time to time, a lighting crossed the black sky, a flash of light in the middle of the darkness.

You followed your brother (your older brother, as he liked to recall whenever you disagreed with him - it didn't matter that he was only 13 months older nor that you were way more mature than him, he would always use the fact as a reason to why you should listen to him) through the stairway leading to the balcony on the second level of the motel. Once more, your father had left you and your brothers to fend for yourselves as he went into yet another pointless hunt.

Dean basically dragged you along the balcony, until he came to a sudden stop, in front of a large window that belonged to the room in the corner of the "i" shaped motel. Letting go of your hand, he slid the window panels to the side, making an opening big enough for you to pass through.

"I'm not going in there", you stated, backing away from the wall.

"Come on, sis. It's not like we have anything better to do", Dean prompted, hoping to convince you to follow through with his newest stupid idea. It was partially true: the storm had caused a power outage, and you had been bored sitting on your shared bed watching Sam sleep soundly. That was why you had accepted Dean's invitation to explore the motel grounds.

You sighed. "It's illegal. We could get arrested for trespassing!", you said in a rather hushed tone. Even as you said that, you knew your worries were stupid: you were in the back part of the motel, with nothing but the moon and a vast field to serve as witness to your crimes.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Relax. Trust me on this one, I know you will like it", as he said that, he passed a leg through the window frame and then another, leaving you no time to protest further.

Not wanting to stay alone in the darkness, you followed him inside. You could barely see inside the room, but your brother grabbed a flashlight from his back pocket and swung it around, your curious eyes following the light to absorb every inch of the large room. Unlike the one you had been staying on the first floor - which was cramped and almost didn't fit the two beds you were sharing - this one was big enough to fit a king size bed, a round table with three chairs, a wardrobe and a TV unit complete with loudspeakers and DVD player. You gasped in awe, taking in the sight. It was far from luxurious, but it was a thousand times better than what you were used to.

Dean chuckled. "I knew you would like it. But you haven't seen the best part yet", he took your hand and pulled you towards a white door, which he opened, revealing the bathroom.

Your jaw dropped. There was a bathtub there! Long enough for you to lay in, and large enough to fit two people, if they squeezed tightly. Your eyes glowed, and you were filled with the desire of climbing inside and taking a long bath. You could imagine it: the hot water undoing the tension in your muscles and driving away the reminers of the cold rain that had soaked you to your bones. Preferentially, there would be aromatic candles, a good book for you to read and a glass of wine for you to drink...

"Wanna go in?", your brother asked, ripping you away from your daydream. 

You laughed bitterly. "We can't. Really Dean, let's go back before Sam wakes up."

"He sleeps like a rock and you know it. Just relax, sis. It seems your could really use that bath", he teased.

No. You couldn't. It was wrong. This wasn't your room and you shouldn't be here in the first place. But then again, who cared if a couple of teenagers broke into a hotel room? And it wasn't like anyone would come clean the room this late in the night. Besides, you deserved some fun.

"Alright. Alright. But we can't take too long", you gave in, unable to make up more excuses to why not.

Dean grinned like crazy. "As you wish, little sister."

You rolled your eyes. "You know I hate when you call me that", you complained, kicking your rain boots out of your feet and removing the wet socks.

Dean leaned into the tub and turned on the tap. Then he passed you the flashlight. "Try to find out which of these bottles is the one that makes bubbles."

You picked the small plastic tubes that rested in the cabinet above the sink and checked one by one, putting back the ones that didn't interest you. You were surprised with the amount of toiletries that the hotel offered, especially since you were just given some 2-in-1 shampoo and a cheap soap. Finally deciding for a rose scented body lotion and soap, you turned back to the bathtub, where your now naked brother laid. You yelped and jerked backwards automatically.

Dean smirked. "What's wrong, sis?"

"You are naked!", you yelped. 

"What did you expected? That I would climb in clothed?", he laughed at the idea.

You didn't know what you expected, but surely it wasn't seeing your brother naked. His body was well defined by years of fighting and exercising, and his skin was tanned by the constant exposure to the sun. You had been lucky to see him shirtless countless times before, but in the dim light, he was even more handsome. You shook those thoughts way, telling yourself that no matter how gorgeous he looked, he was still your brother.

You approached the tub, keeping your eyes away from him. Your hands shook and the small bottles escaped your hands, landing into the water with a splash. Your brother chuckled once more. You ignored him and leaned down to fish the tubes back, diving your hand into the warm water. Your long hair hang around your face, working as a shield that separated you and Dean. You grabbed the flasks and handed for your brother to open, carefully avoiding looking at anything under his neck.

"Ain't you coming in?", he inquired, watching with amusement as you stared into the white tiles of the bathroom floor.

You nodded and, with your back turned to him, proceeded to remove the old oversized t-shirt you used. You slipped out of your shorts and hesitated for a moment while you wondered whether or not you should remove your underwear. 

The flashlight, which you had left in the shelf near the sink, seemed like a spotlight illuminating your body as you undressed. Despite knowing it to be wrong, your brother couldn't help but stare as the soft curve of your ass was exposed for his greedy eyes. He waited, hoping you would turn around and he would be able to see everything he had always dreamed of. He had never seen you completely naked before, and he ached to do so. To see your rosy nipples, to hold your breasts in his hands, to caress the places that only your hands had touched before, to kiss the skin between your thighs. No, he couldn't, no matter how delicious you looked, you were still his sister.

Still not being able to look directly at him, you walked into the pool, and lowered your body until you were covered to waist length. The water had acquired a pale pink opaque color, and a few bubbles covered its surface. The damp panties sticked to your skin, and you took advantage of the cover that the water offered to remove them. You sat there, knees to your chest, facing Dean, whose legs were propped by your side. You hugged your legs tighter. 

Dean's head rested against a towel he had set upon the white china frame of the bathtub. His eyes were closed and there was the ghost of a smile on his lips. He seemed happy, which was a rare occurrence, since he usually was too busy worrying about everything and everyone to do something that he actually enjoyed. You resisted the urge to lean closer and kiss him in his pinkish mouth.

As if he could feel your gaze on him, he opened his eyes and shifted his position, rubbing his legs on your tights just for a moment, but that moment was enough to drag a moan out of the depths of your throat. You felt your cheeks redden, and hoped that the pale light helped mask your embarrassment.

"Somebody is enjoying themself, uh?", he asked, his voice dropping low enough to send a chill down your spine.

"I-- I have no idea of what you are talking about."

He nodded, not a bit convinced. Your eyes dropped to your lap, afraid that he could see right through you, to read all the dirty thoughts in your mind. "You know there is enough space for you to straighten your legs, right?"

"I’m confortable like this", you replied shyly.

"Alright, if you say so", he shrugged. He moved once more, but this time, as he raised his hips over the waterline, you caught sight of the tip of his hard cock. He smiled shyly, knowing what you had seen. "Just trying to find a good position." 

You felt a familiar warmth between your legs that you knew had nothing to do with the water. Unable to suppress the feeling, you squirmed in your seat, trying to get just a bit of friction. Your action didn't go unnoticed by your brother, but instead of disgust, his expression was filled with curiosity and desire.

"Liked what you saw?", he said teasingly.

You blushed even more than before. "N--no", you managed to stutter.

"Are you lying to me, sister?", he asked, smirking like the devil of course, he knew you were lying, he would see it all over your face. When you didn't respond, he buckled his hips upwards once more, flashing more of his length to you. You knew you should look away, but you couldn't. You had been dreaming of this exact moment for a long time, and now that it was happening, you didn't want it to end.

You let go of your knees, and crawled towards him, splashing water out of the tub as you did so. Your bare ass was exposed to the air as you moved, and he kept admiring the way it jiggled. "Dean?", you called, you voice barely more than a faint whisper.

"Yes?"

"Can I touch it?", you asked, batting your eyelashes. The odd light casted long shadows on your face and he thought it only made you more angelic. He groaned in agreement, and you sat on your heels, millimeters away from him. You slid a hand over his legs, tracing his muscles to the point where his legs joined together. There, you found the hardness of his cock, which was throbbing with need. You tangled your fingers in his pubes, desperate to touch him, but you took your time. Then you gently touched the base of his erection, wrapping your fingers around it. 

You began to pump in and out, moving your hand from the base to the head in a painfully slow way. You used your other hand to explore his balls, tracing your fingers around it, like a blind woman that had to use her other senses to construct an image of the world. You felt every vein, every inch of skin.

He moaned  in delight. "Faster", he whisper between heavy breaths. You giggled but kept at your own pace, exploring everything he had to offer. You could feel the pre-cum leaking from the tip.

Suddenly, he pushed you back, splashing more water on the floor. You fell on your ass and he quickly moved on top of you, holding you down by your shoulders, your head barely above the water. "I said faster", he hissed into your ear. You hummed.

"I'm sorry", you apologized, and then having an idea, you corrected yourself. "I meant, I am sorry, sir ."

He flashed a smile at the title. "Than show me how sorry you are, sister." Having said that, he let go of your shoulders and leaned back. You were fast to crawl back to your former position, and wrap your hands around his cock once more, but this time, you moved it with a faster pace.

Dean's hands moved to unhook the bra you still wore. As he pulled the garment off, he sighed in pleasure. Your tits were everything he could ever had hoped for. You continued to jerk him off, and he watched hypnotized as your boobs bounced with your fast movements. He moaned as you brought him near his peak. You felt it when he exploded in your hand, his juices mixing with the water. He panted heavily, like if he had just taken a long run.

"That was good. Really good", he managed to say after a while. You still sat there, looking at him with adoring eyes, taking in everything you could see and saving it for later. You almost couldn't believe what had just happened. You thought that any moment now you would wake up and discover it had all been a dirty and twisted dream.

"Well, I am happy--", but you didn't have time to finish your sentence, as he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer, smashing his mouth into yours, in a crazy and hungry kiss. His tongue explored the inside of your mouth as his hands lowered on your back, grabbing your ass. You felt him get hard again against your leg. 

After a long time, he finally broke the kiss, but it was only to assault your neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks. You threw your head back in pure ecstasy as you melted into his arms.

He let go of your ass, moving to pinch and twist your hard nipples, which only helped to make you wetter. You parted your legs, trying to straddle his tight to hump yourself off, but your position made it a difficult task, so you gave up and allowed him to have his way with you. You were so lost in a sea of pleasure that you didn't even protest when he lifted your body and then lowered your pussy into his cock. Only when you felt the sharp pang that you realized what he was doing: it felt like he would slip your body in two with his girth. Still, you didn't try to stop him when he began to move his hips, thrusting into you balls deep over and over. Somehow he managed to rub you just right, and your cunt clenched around him as stars sparkled your vision. It was the final boost he needed to cum again. He shot his seed straight into your hole, filling you up in a delicious way. When he let go of you, you collapsed into his chest, too tired to lift yourself out of him. Not that you wanted to do that anyway. He hugged you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling your smell: a mixture of sweat and roses.

"I love you, sis", he muttered, almost incomprehensible.

You were surprised at his words, they were the last thing you expected to hear. You had been thinking it was just a lusty fuck, but he shared your dark desires. Maybe you weren't so twisted for loving him, if he loved you back, then it must be a normal thing to feel. Or maybe the two of you were very fucked up, but either way, you were together and that was all that mattered in the moment.

"I love you too, Dean"

A loud thunder echoed outside and then the lights flicked on: the power had been restored and the neon sign outside the motel glowed brightly in the night, bringing the two of you back to reality. Like a spell that just had been broken, you separated from him and rose from the tub, his cum sliding off your pussy and running down your tights. Seemingly realizing what you two had just done, Dean also quickly left the water and you both fumbled through your clothes, in a hush to get dressed. Not bothering to empty the bathtub, you left the bathroom in a hurry and jumped out of the window, followed close by him. 

Still dizzy from the crazy sex you just had, you stumbled downstairs and opened the door to your room the quietest way you could. Not that it did you any good, Sam was already awake, laying on the bed face up. He jumped when he saw you and smiled in relief.

"There you are! I was beginning to think something had happened…", he frowned, noticing both of you were dripping wet. "What happened?"

"Er…. We went to get ice from the machine, but it's raining heavily and we got soaked", you lied. "I need to take a shower," you said running to the bathroom.

"Where's the ice?", your smaller brother inquired. He had always been the smart one in the family.

You closed the door and locked it. Outside, you heard Dean tell Sam that the machine was broken, and that he should go back to sleep. You turned on the shower and washed away the pearly white cream that sticked to your legs. You heard the door handle being turned, but the lock resisted and the person on the other side gave up. When you left the bathroom, wrapped in a white towel, the room was pitch black and Dean's loud snores echoed through the walls. You dressed in you pijamas and crawled into your bed, glad you had it all for yourself. You closed your eyes and ignored the burning question in your mind. You could wait until tomorrow to decide what to do next.

[edelwoodsouls]

all roads lead - ch. 4

When his mother dies, Stiles runs away, straight into danger - only to be saved by Peter Hale. Seven years later, after burying their alpha, Stiles and Malia return home.

Word Count: 2,380 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 5,

Chapter 4: WATER

Stiles has always been a creature who thrives on certainty. On logic. Control. Knowing the variables, knowing the future. Knowing what truly lies in people's hearts, their motivations, their secrets. Knowledge is power is control. Until the nogitsune. Now chaos hums in his bones, in the thrum of his heartbeats. He knows the two aren't so different now. Control is just an illusion, a sliver of rock above a sea of chaos that will drag you back under no matter how hard you cling, and isn't afraid to let the rocks claw you to shreds on the way down. The only true control is instigating the chaos. Still, not knowing where the future will lead is something that sits heavily in his chest, the beginnings of panic that Stiles is oh so used to, but still makes his fingers shake after years. His father went out to make a phone call, still shaken, eyes still glistening. Make yourself at home, kids, he'd said, eyeing Malia with renewed curiosity now the dam has burst. So naturally, Stiles headed for the showers. Four days on coaches across the country coats him in a greasy film, and he desperately needs the rhythm of the water against his skin, the liminal space that seems to exist only in showers, giving him a moment to breathe. He turns the heat as high as it will go, watches his troubles eddy and fall from him into the drain. Being here feels like curling up by the fire, beside Malia, watching as Peter plays the piano tucked in the corner of their apartment with the exagerrated motions of someone overly skilled for the piece he's playing. It's a false comfort, he knows, one he should think twice before allowing to smother him. But he's so tired. The weeks have leeched all the fight from his bones, and this place, Beacon Hills, his father, have reminded him of the days when childhood was something still permitted to him. Stiles has never had a shower so good in his life.

Whilst Malia takes her turn, Stiles stares at himself in the fogged-up mirror. His hair has grown out (when was the last time he cut it?); his bones jut out at awkward angles from his too-pale, shadowed skin (how often has he been eating?). He looks like a man possessed. Has he looked this bad since he actually was? Malia pokes her head around the shower curtain, and he's surprised to see a delighted smile on her face, eyes glinting in that mischevious way that never quite leaves her. "This shower is fucking brilliant," she declares. "I never want to leave." Me neither, a small, too-loud part of him whispers back. Instead he just grins back at her and flicks water from his hair at her. She squeals, vanishing behind the curtain. A moment later, the shower head is turned directly at him, spraying him once more with startlingly hot water. John finds them ten minutes later, deep into the most intense water fight of Stiles' life. The towel tucked around Stiles' waist is soaked, the walls slick, the shower half-heartedly continuing to spray from the bottom of the tub. The two of them are crumpled beside it, chests aching so hard from laughing that the room spins. His father, standing in the doorway with a bemused expression as he takes in the chaos, just sends them into another bout of giggles. "Hey, dad," Stiles says, still gasping, pulling himself up over the lip of the tub and bringing Malia with him. John blinks, something unnameable flitting across his features, gone in an instant beneath a sheriff's poker face. Or maybe a father's one. "I thought you might want a change of clothes," he says, holding up a stack of clothing in between his hands. His eyes look anywhere but the two of them. "Then we should have a talk. I only have clothes for a teenage boy, though..." His eyes drift to Malia's face. She stares at him with the unnerving edge of a coyote's challenge, then extends a hand out for the proffered clothes. Stiles tries, and fails, to imagine Malia in a skirt - the thought is nothing but funny.

"Thanks, Mr Stilinski," she grins at him, wolfish, and bounces out into the hall, letting her hand brush Stiles' for a brief second as she passes.

Then it's just him, and his father. Alone. Silence stretches, and eventually John backs out into the hall and turns away so Stiles can get dressed.

"She's certainly... a character," his father's voice rises eventually. He's looking off distantly down the hall in the direction Malia left.

Stiles snorts. "That's certainly one way to describe Malia," he shrugs.

"And is she...?"

"What?"

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Stiles almost slips over on the floor again. "No," he says vehemently, then stops. How can he explain to his father the utterly entwined connection the two of them have? Siblings doesn't run nearly deep enough (and he thinks most people would frown on naked water fights with siblings at this age). Friends, family - all of it falls short. Society would like to describe them as significant others, simply because normal society deems romantic attraction the highest form of love. But that's something neither of them have ever considered, never would. What they give each other is infinitely stronger, infinitely more empowering. "She's the closest person I have," he says eventually. "We've been through a lot together."

An understatement if ever he heard one.

The clothes he tugs on are soft and warm, far too large for him. Scott's clothes, he realises. Half of him wants to snuggle in closer to them, smell the familiar scent of his old best friend. The other half riles at the smell of another alpha, at the thought of taking his clothes, invading his home.

"So you and Melissa," he says, voice oh so light and casual. His father flinches, turns around instinctively- and stops. Stiles has pulled on most of the clothes, but the tshirt is still half over his head, his chest still clear to see.

Considering how painful it was when he got it, he forgets about the tattoo over his heart far too often. Simple black lines, the symbol of his pack emblazoned forever in his skin, the only scar his body would let him keep. To a layman he supposes it looks like a sharp, angular S, but Peter's love of tradition and meaning, combined with Stiles' own magical training, mean he has learned to read runes like English.

"Eihwaz," Peter had declared when he'd selected the rune as his symbol. "The yew tree. Stability. Endurance. Irreversibility. Perseverance."

And wasn't that the thing that held their little family together? Despite all the odds, they had survived. They had found each other. They had weathered irreversible change and chosen to plant roots, to seek stability, knowing better than most how easily it slipped between their fingers.

In the end, it had done very little to save Peter's life. But here Stiles was, here Malia was, still persevering.

Stiles shoves the tshirt down over the tattoo, and his father's eyes blink away.

"Me and Melissa," he says slowly, as if the ground might crumble with a single word.

"Dad," Stiles says shortly, cutting across. "It's okay, really. You don't need to make any excuses. It's been a while. I'd be surprised if you'd survived this long alone."

And doesn't that just kill the mood.

"Stiles..." his father's tone immediately sets him on edge. "Why are you here? After all this time, why now? Did you want to come home? Did you... did you have a choice?"

 Were you kidnapped or did you leave?

Why is he here? To reconnect with his father? To inform Derek and Laura Hale of their uncle's passing? Is he just searching for a reason to keep moving, a direction, a goal, or else he'll shut down and never move again?

"I wanted to come home," he says, and right now it's the truth. "As for choice, it's not that simple, and-" he breathes slowly to ground himself, to calm the swirl of thoughts in his head. "I'm not really ready to talk about it. But, I was hoping... I was hoping we could stay. Find our ground again. For the longest time I've felt like I'm falling, and finally here..."

It feels like home, he doesn't say, but oh how he wants it to be true.

"You're welcome to stay, Stiles," his father says, so quickly a small light flickers to being in Stiles' chest. "You and Malia both. We have a couple spare rooms. But to all the world, you're missing."

Ah. Crap.

"I need to take you to the station, do a full report. You're a minor, so there's a whole bunch of hoops to jump through. As the sheriff I have a certain amount of pull, but there are gonna be questions."

"Not just for me," Stiles cringes. "Malia is from Beacon Hills, too..."

His father nods in consideration, like he's just the corner of a puzzle he's been wrestling with for a while. Stiles really doesn't like that expression. "So she is Malia Tate. I thought she was, though it's been a few years."

The world stops. Stiles isn't here, but somewhere far away. The buzz of electricity in his ears. Blood leaking between his fingers. "You can't send her back there."

John looks up, surprised by the vehemence in his voice.

"I mean it, dad. Don't even tell her dad she's alive. He gave up any right to her when he sent her to Eichen House."

"Stiles..."

"Do you know what they did to her in there? Do you want to know what nightmare you've sent 'problematic' cases into? When we found her, she was-" His voice breaks. He doesn't want to remember the blood of that night, the wild look in Malia's eyes, so driven by animal terror she hadn't even recognised him or Peter.

None of them talk about that year, when Malia left to find herself and came back more lost than ever before. That night, more than anything, has kept him away from the west coast entirely. He's managed this long to keep Beacon Hills and Eichen House separate in his mind, distanced by time and trauma, but how far is it really? An hour's drive? The thought of Malia locked up there again makes something inside him cold with fury.

He won't let it happen, no matter what he has to do.

John doesn't say anything for a moment, clearly mulling over the information - too much - Stiles has just let slip. "I'll do what I can," he nods eventually. Stiles lets go of a breath he hadn't realised was burning his lungs. "I can pull some strings. I can respect your boundaries - up to a point. Eventually you're gonna have to talk to me about all this. Where you've been. How you and an asylum escapee are so close. Or you can talk to a therapist, at least."

The idea of a therapist attempting to untangle the utter clusterfuck of his brain makes Stiles smile.

"And you have to go to school."

He says this like it's a punishment, but Stiles suddenly, unexpectedly relishes the idea. He'd graduated early last year in New York, bored of school and pretending to be dumb just to stay at a regular pace. But the thought of being given something to fill the yawning chasm of time he's found himself with is a good one.

Malia won't like it, but she doesn't like anything involving written words and human social cues, all of which fester inside the halls of a school.

This is their chance, he realises. To live like normal teenagers. To meet people their own age, make friends who aren't pack. To play lacrosse and go iceskating, worry about inane things like homework, and clothing, and - just maybe - college applications.

"Of course," Stiles nods along. "Thank you, dad."

His father gives him an awkward, one armed hug, quickly lets go again. "How about I show you guys your rooms, that way you can get settled while I get started on dinner."

"You, cooking?" Stiles gasps in mock horror.

"Hey, kid, I am now a gourmet chef, I'll have you know. No more charred black fry ups or greasy take out. I'm on the straight and narrow."

"I'll see it when I believe it," Stiles grins.

"You will," John says earnestly. "I like to impress when it's my turn to cook - I'm doing shepherds pie today. Scott and Isaac'll be back from lacrosse practice in a couple hours, and Melissa finishes at six. Dinner at seven?"

Scott'll be back from lacrosse. In the excitement of finally seeing a road ahead of him, he's forgotten the small problem of the supernatural. Does his father know? Does Melissa? How long can he and Malia mask their scents living under the same roof as an alpha?

How the hell did asthmatic, wouldn't-harm-a-fly Scott McCall become an alpha anyway? The idea of Scott with blood on his hands like Stiles makes the world feel entirely wrong.

And who the hell is Isaac?

He manages a smile that's probably more a grimace, though his father doesn't seem to notice the difference. "Dinner at seven sounds great. But, uh, Malia and I only need one room."

"Are you sure?" John looks unsure. "I have two-"

"We sleep together." Stiles' tone leaves no room for discussion, a little too much of that alpha agression showing through. He relaxes immediately, hoping to glaze over the moment. "We both have pretty horrific nightmares. So unless you want screaming at 3AM, probably better for us to just stay together."

He can see his father is hardly convinced. John Stilinski is the sheriff of a town where tragedy is commonplace. He's seen trauma in all its shapes and sizes. He understands it all too well, how it makes an enemy of everything other. Malia and Stiles' closeness isn't simply a bond of friends or pack. They've been through things too awful to imagine together.

It's them against the world. Even against John Stilinski, if needs be.

But his father nods, once, firmly, and that's that.

[leiascully]

Fic:  Endeavours Too Short Of Desires

4500 words | Teen | moody atmospheric vignettes from season 6 and a hike in the woods that never was

A/N: This isn’t new.  I just wanted a tumblr copy.  It is, as ever, for @dilkirani

I.

"Nothing ever happens," Mulder wakes himself saying, jerking back from the depths of sleep.

Scully's face is a stern half-moon in the driver's seat.

"Hmm?" she says, eyes on the road.

"Dreaming," he says rather pathetically, hauling one shoulder up.

"About your love life?"

"Hah," he says. She smirks to herself. Every now and then he remembers she is someone's little sister.

A semi oozes past, its bulk as eerie as the lanternfish Mulder saw in a photo, the small lights set to tantalize with false promises of goodness within. The rental car hurls them through the night, back to the hotel, after the long day of pounding on the doors of innocent farmers. The air conditioner has the same hushed burble as his aquarium filter. The night is clear enough to swim in. If he rolled down the window, the dark would spill in and flood the car. He spins out a story in his half-awake mind: he and Scully, in their rented (though stolen would have more glamour) subaquatic transport are speeding towards the last outpost of civilization to confront the crooked Merpolice. He finds he is holding his breath and abandons the narrative. More apt to be pioneers. The thought of Scully's face hidden behind a ruffled bonnet is too entertaining to pass up.

"Think the Homestead Act is still in effect?" he asked.

Her mouth crimped. "This isn't a Conestoga, Mulder, and you're not a country boy. You'd starve without a deli."

"You hunt, I gather. What do you say, partner?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"After seven years, you expect me to be suddenly amenable to your lunatic schemes?" She makes a smooth stop at a deserted crossroads and sets the car in motion again.

"But you were so good with those pigs," he wheedles.

"Only you would want to settle down by actually settling," she says, putting the turn signal on though there isn't another car on the road. She pulls into the parking lot and noses the car into a slot, equidistant from the cars on either side. He hovers as she unlocks her door and slips in.

"Night, Mulder," she says, tipping her head against the frame.

"Night," he says as she pushes the door to and slides home the bolts. He lays awake in his mirror room, arm cocked over his head so that the back of his hand rests against the wall, trying to feel her heartbeat through the dark.

II.

What the hell are they doing?

There was a time his days had purpose, but now he finds himself floundering. A day's work? A life's work? A fine romance, a deadly drama, a comedy of errors? Scully is no waifish Ophelia, but there are days he fears they'll all end up dead due to the miching mallechos set off by his own determination. At least piles of manure aren't as likely to kill them as most of his demons.

He remembers when he met her, the cool firmness of her handshake and the bad cut of her suit. She is leaner now. Honed is the word he would use: it suits the way they scrape against each other. She has the clean compact lines of his Sig and he reaches for her the same way in a crisis. She isn't pretty. The word isn't in her vocabulary, with all the frou-frou softness it implies. If he can say she is beautiful, it is the beauty of the scalpel's edge. He feels softer by the day, his hand always half-extended to her. There are weekends he orders two coffees just because he forgets she isn't there. He drinks the second and buzzes for hours, having learned to tolerate cream in his coffee rather than face the shades his brain creates.

He dreams about picket fences and Scully with a fond palm cupped over the head of a blond boy. He wakes in a sweat. She deserves more. Not just someone who calls to say, "Hey, I found a musty old file, want to get takeout and give up your weekend?" She merits someone who calls to say instead "I was thinking of you" and leaves it at that. She deserves to be the sign and the signifier. He still loves the hunt, too, with a modern man's shame over the thrill of the chase. Dress it in a suit, give it a pistol, and call the hunt a puzzle or a profile or a case, but she's right: he gets off on it. She rides with him, but it doesn't take her to the same place. Bad motels, bad food, his everloving need to track the villain to his last hideout. Or maybe she does feel the call of it these days: he's guilty about that too. What has he made of her, this serious woman whose family hardly recognizes her? The two of them in coordinating blacks, him stooping along in the shadows with her ramrod-straight and stern beside him.

Who would she be if she weren't his Scully? How many hours of laughter has he stolen from her? How many years of ease? He feels the weight of his debts as an ache when he runs, a tug between his shoulders when he drives.

III.

So she isn't pretty (too severe, too pale of skin and sharp of chin) and she rubs him, god, the wrong way entirely with her pointed insistence on the rational. There are days lately that they just prickle at each other until the air is so charged he isn't sure one of them won't take a swing. He gets smug and she gets arch and he wants to remind her of Scully-that-was with the bad suits and the naivete, but the quips dry up when he looks at Scully-that-is, who might just shoot him to shut him up, her eyebrow cocking almost audibly as a pistol. It was easier when they were upstairs, Moose and Squirrel against the Badinovs. Now they've won and they're back in their weird seclusion, and he spends all day trying not to think about things. Diana and Spender and the enormous scar on Scully's stomach and a normal life and that's just for starters. Scully nags at him: he should be thinking of his knees, his cholesterol, his prostate, his geriatric future chasing phantoms, and he almost blushes under her cool stare as she dissects him and gets irritable about that.

"You want to be the one saying I told you so for once?" he snaps. "I'm sure when I'm dead you'll find a reason." She doesn't rise to the bait, just purses her lips and turns away, and he spends a couple of hours coming up with a good retort for her to have said. "Sooner rather than later" or "I've already seen you naked, I understand the situation" or a reminder of how it's her logic that turns him into something the world doesn't shun. But none of them measures up to her eloquent silence and the fact that she's still here (god, the miracle and the thorn in his side) and it makes him crankier and crankier until he has to go to the vending machine and buy a candy bar to drop on her desk. She raises an eyebrow and splits it with him, both of them with sticky fingertips and dense mouthfuls of nougat and peanut. She swallows with an effort, taps her lower lip with one finger. He licks exaggeratedly at his mouth and tastes caramel. She nearly smiles.

There are some days they're so in sync it's as if they're sharing a skin. He never thinks of it until later, when he turns and she's not there. But they haven't either of them been there, lately. In the bullpen, he can't even stare surreptitiously sideways at her profile.

They talk on the phone in the evenings, too accustomed for self-consciousness. He doesn't remember how many times he's heard her fall asleep, even in the middle of some hushed dispute. He thinks of her, limbs askirl in the comforter, wearing those shapeless pajamas. He wants to ease her out of them, put her in his oldest, softest t-shirt, watch her curl around him as she dreams. Hell, he'll let her drool on his chest if that's what it takes to see her unlimber that prickly standalone self-assurance. She must have been a girl once, laughing with those blue eyes, listening to rough-voiced men croon about how they needed her to need them. He likes to think that he could stop running long enough to spend the morning reading snippets of news stories to her.

IV.

He stares at the phone on the table. It lies there, implacable. He sighs, picks it up, and hits the button.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me."

"Mulder," she says with a touch of reproval, "it's Friday night."

"It only feels that way because it gets dark early," he says, glancing at the dusky mirror of his window.

"Mulder," she sighs.

"Yeah," he says, and almost hangs up.

"And?" she prompts.

"There's a haunted wood in West Virginia that's very scenic this time of year," he says.

"Haunted?"

"The hotel has a hot tub," he says. "And the hike up to the site is gorgeous."

There is a long moment of silence. He hums The Eagles under his breath.

"Pick me up in half an hour," she says and hangs up.

They spin out the long miles between haunted places together in a silence he likes to call comfortable. He has been a connoisseur of silences since Samantha disappeared: his mother's, Phoebe's, Diana's. Scully's are sometimes cool or pointed but never cruel. The evening dims into early night. He wants to hear stories of her childhood, wants to relate the play-by-play of sandlot games from the days when Samantha was there, pigtails bouncing against her shoulders as she scrambled for a foul ball and held up the game. Instead he tunes the radio to NPR and feels Scully slouch next to him, relaxing into a concert of Bach's sonatas. She props one stocking-sheathed foot on the glove box.

"You like Bach, Mulder?"

"I live for Bach," he says easily. She flashes him a look and he quirks his mouth in a doesn't-matter smile. Those are times he doesn't like to think about, when they were separated, when he abandoned her without looking back and she came anyway to save him from his follies. Dana Scully, Our Lady of Second Chances. He'd lay flowers at her feet, but she doesn't suffer reverence well, the deflection of affection almost automatic between them. Not all wisdom has benefits, he thinks: too wise to woo, they are stuck in the stasis of longing and denial.

The stairs to the basement still smell like smoke when he goes to salvage his files, and his car still smells like Diana's perfume, however he tries to air it out. Betrayal has an acrid bite in his nose. Scully's hands are ashy as they sort through burned fragments of manila; he is aware that he does not deserve her.

West Virginia will not solve any of this, but he is longing for the old earnest purity of the supernatural after the months and months of bureaucracy. After the indignity of being dragged out of their basement. After the wedge Diana has put between them, after his new disillusionment, after his near-drowning. A nice trip to the woods, one that won't end in some ancient hollow filled with bones or the two of them dehydrated beyond recognition. It is tending toward autumn in the mountains, and he has hope again.

V.

She's seen him naked before with those doctor eyes, one self-inflicted health concern after another. He frets that when the day of glory comes she won't see him as anything but a collection of troubles bundled in a too-familiar skin. Where's the mystery of undressing each other when they know all the scars? Where's the room for shadows and secrets and discovery?

All these dreams of yielding, but in the light, they brace their feet and bicker, an endlessly rehearsed debate.

They get in too late for the woods, just collapse in their separate rustic rooms. She yawns through breakfast, but he plies her with coffee and drags her up the mountain.

"What am I looking for?" she asks, her feet clompy in her boots. She has brought a pack with food and water and a good pocketknife. He has a compass in his pocket and a pamphlet in his bag about the local hauntings.

"Any sign of haints, spectres, manifestations, you know."

"Projectile vomiting?" she asks wryly, and pushes up the sleeves of her fleecy pullover.

"Breakfast wasn't that bad, Scully. Now get ghost huntin'."

"Mulder, is this an apology?"

He stretches his legs and outpaces her, scrambling up outcroppings just because he can. The ghostly copse is bright and sunny, the leaves just edged with crimson and yellow.

"Look at that, Scully," he says, putting out his arms and spinning. "Have you ever seen a place more positively haunted?"

She laughs, unpredictably. They eat apples and spit out the seeds. She chose the apples from a bowl in the dining room; he doesn't recognize the names of the varieties when she says them. He thinks, briefly, that he should give it all up and they could grow apples instead. In the evening they sit by a fireplace and the owner of the inn tells them all the ghost stories. Mulder takes notes. Scully stares dreamily into the flames. They slip into the hot tub under the stars, Scully in a very functional one piece, her towel close at hand against the chill in the air. They seem to be the only guests at the lodge. He swats at a lonely mosquito. Scully peers up at the sky.

"You know," Mulder nudges her toes in the water, "if we went up there now, maybe we'd catch Old Smoky in the act of spooking deer."

She regards him, her eyes half-lidded through the steam. "Mulder, was there even a ghost here?"

"There's always a ghost," he says.

On Monday, they don't talk about it.

VI.

Sometimes he sees himself as she must see him, on bad days. Hulking, crowding Mulder, deranged Mulder, screeching inanity even the Gunmen would discount out of hand. Broody, sulky, disturbed Mulder, who hasn't had a date or even a bedroom in years, who has more than once held a gun on her. Same old same old, dragging her across the nation's pale and seedy underbelly for the sake of an anonymous newspaper clipping or a breathless phonecall.

"Why do you trust these whackos?" she asks once, point blank Scully bluntness. "Mulder, are you just aching to have faith in someone?"

He bristles, ignoring the opportunity to be sweet. "They're not whackos. They're truthseekers."

"They're attention seekers." She is already turning away.

"Please don't undervalue my work," he says stiffly, stirred into adolescent sudden outrage so that his elbows jab at the fabric of his suit and his ears feel too large, awkward, hearing sly whispers. "However little you may respect these people and their struggles to confront the paranormal aspects, things that people like you say shouldn't exist, they deserve at least the justice of being listened to. This is my life, Scully. I'm not apologizing."

Her shoulders tilt. "It's become my life."

He punches the buttons on the radio until he finds a classic rock station and taps the steering wheel, trying not to turn around or beg forgiveness. Maybe he'll miss the exit, just drive until they find her magical normal-normal suburb so that she could trot up some manicured walkway to a boring husband and two point five adopted children, since he'd taken the chance of her own from her. Picket fences, Irish setter, parade of heart attack victims and plain vanilla old folks splayed across her morgue table. Maybe that would suit her, he thinks, as they grind into the parking lot. He feels guilty later and turns his plate so she can steal his fries, but she is looking out the window.

The informant is an unqualified whacko.

VII.

She is asleep, her breath a rhythmic fog on the window. Her hair has drifted across her face like autumn coming on. He can see the pulse in her neck. The compact loveliness of her startles him: pulse, respiration, the flicker of muscle as she shifts. She is so solid: the brace of arm from wrist to shoulder as she sights along her gun, the stance of her when they argue. Her skin in the moonlight looks bluish, the milky color of old marbles. She had been almost heavy in his arms, that time in Antarctica, as he'd struggled to clothe her in the meager layers of down and Goretex. The two of them in the clothes he'd worn, sharing his warmth, sharing his skin. As he'd lifted her, he'd caught his own scent on her neck. Her damp skin, bare inside his parka. The two of them breathing in the defiance of the fathomless cold.

And now this, after the whacko. Each of them lost in particular frustrated solitude inside the cocoon of the rental car. The sussuration of tires on the highway. The clear air of the desert so unlike DC, with its concrete memories of swampiness. Go west, young man, he thinks as the car spins northeast back to the cluster of lights where their hotel hunches around a rock garden. Go west and grow up with your country. That made three times this year he'd dragged her along, restless in the bullpen, craving the nocturnal thrill of exchanged information. Cloak and dagger, he would say, thinking of spy movies. Like taking a woman's number in a dark bar, Scully would say, Mulder, what were you thinking?

VIII.

He shows up on her doorstep at Halloween, painted corpse grey with false stitches inked over the real scars. "Trick or treat," he rumbles, and she steps aside.

"You know Frankenstein was the doctor, Mulder."

"Didn't your mother ever warn you about things that go bump in the night?" he says over his shoulder on the way to the candy bowl, but she ducks past him and rations out three bite-size bars into his palm. "No apples? No granola? Why, Doctor Scully, what wicked indulgence. You're letting these kids live it up."

She half-shrugs, her shoulder cantilevered by the crook of the opposite eyebrow. Scully at equilibrium. "Any remnant of true ritual has been superceded by the commercialized sugar high, Mulder. The offering's only a gesture at the amalgamation of centuries of superstition and pagan belief."

"And yet," he murmurs, "think of the dental bills."

Her mouth quirks. In her line of work, he supposes, they appreciate distinctive dentition. "Not my watch. Plus, I like my windows unegged."

They watch bad monster movies on tv, punctuated by commercials and insistent variations on ghouls, heroes, and cartoon princesses. She rambles on about Samhain and Egyptian ritual and the bourgeois dilution of tradition until he unwraps a candy bar and pushes it between her lips. Not that he doesn't love to hear her talk, especially about fertility and death and holy holies and the human tendency to enjoy having the hell scared out of them, but it's Plan Nine From Outer Space and this is the good part.

She swallows, licks her lips, waits for commercial, worries a bit of peanut from between her back teeth. "I was you with all that Samhain stuff, you know. I don't think they sell Flowbees anymore, but I thought about stealing your awful ties."

"You may talk the talk, Scully, but you'll never encompass the Mulder mystique." She grimaces at him. "You're too short and too functional."

She brushes her knuckles against his knee and pretends it's an accident. "Happy Halloween, Mulder."

"Happy Halloween, Scully." He thinks his heart is growing three sizes larger, wrong season or not.

IX.

She pushes his hair back from his injured brow with a remarkable tenderness for a diagnostic. He touches the small of her back in possessive deference. They do not speak of this. It is a language of bodies, all fingertips and shoulders and the comfortable bump of knees under tables that are too small.

He steals her keys at Christmas out of hope.

They are often at odds. He knows she is seeing Diana around corners. The consummation goes on devoutly wished and entirely unconsummated; they are both restless with only their own skins around them. He is still hearing Padgett's voice on a loop (the lurid whisper, the revelation she didn't flinch from, so how could it be true except that she is not the swooning type), still seeing Ed Jerse's all-American face and blistered arm. The precedent of her lovers depresses him, but then, she's not tall, dark, and top-heavy. Tastes change.

He worries that he loves her by association. He worries that she tolerates him simply because she's used to him. In the daylight, in the office, their lives feel so ordinary. Two hired guns for the FBI, overeducated, underpaid, no scope at all for the kind of epic love he wants to believe they could share someday when they get around to saying it. When they find a safe space. "Son," says the bottom of the whiskey bottle some nights, "you're delusional."

He wants to believe.

"All right," she says at Christmas, exasperated, "I'm afraid. But it's an irrational fear." Scully tough as textbooks, always reaching for the quantifiable and the explicable. Love they can't riddle away so they ignore it, mired together in their apprehension, except for shining moments like Christmas morning, months ago. He knows this fear is rational, this fear of this, of them, as real and rational as his fear of Them, the consortiums, the shadow-men. She is not afraid, he thinks. She is not afraid of anything. She has confronted her demons and emerged cool and whole. But they push each other away.

He can't decide what he wants. Only her, to have and to hold away. She is exactly right and exactly wrong and there are days he wants to claim her and days he wants to put half the world between them for one reason or another. Mostly he just wants to go on like this, idle days in the basement. Funny. He can't remember when he stopped trying to keep her at arm's length. She was the spy sent in from the cold. Now she holds the earth steady as they boxstep around the space between them, though she sidles up almost under his arm now and then.

X.

An ordinary stakeout, undercover work for someone else, placating the powers that be. They are in a restaurant. He has his arm slung over her shoulders, for verisimilitude, he tells himself. She doesn't quite lean into his side and toys with her drink: tonic with a twist. He murmurs nothings about the news, about some new article he read on acupuncture for abductees. She tips her head up and peers over his chin to give him the skeptical glare.

"Mulder, why do I think you have an appointment for tomorrow morning with this acupuncturist?"

"Hey," he says, "I'm not an abductee. But if you want to go...."

She starts to turn away, gives him the one-eyed fisheye. He is startled by the depth of blue of her eyes in the dim. Just as he starts to worry he's stirred up too much of the aching past, she shifts her hip against his.

"I'm packing," she reminds him. Her lips pucker in that amused way that makes him think of a perfect plum he ate on a summer beach, half-stolen out of a joint packed lunch as Samantha picked the crusts off her sandwich.

"Come on, Scully," he prods teasingly. "Maybe if you clear your chi, the crazies will quit following you around."

"I sincerely doubt it," she says, and for a moment, her head touches his shoulder. "Isn't that what we're here for tonight?"

Let's ditch it, he wants to say. You and me and a pizza and some beers, what do you say? Forget this Bureau shit. Dinner and a movie.

But she's already scanning the room again over the rim of her tonic, though she's still settled against him. He sighs and picks up a cold fry, leftover from what used to be lunch - they wouldn't let the waitress clear the table. Skinner spooked her pretty good too, Mulder thinks, wondering if he can flag the girl down for a piece of pie. But she's pinballing her way across the far edge of her section, avoiding them.

"You know it's Shark Week on the Discovery Channel?" he says experimentally.

"Should have led with the Mystery Science Theatre marathon," Scully counters.

"Scully!" he says, charmed.

"I get the TV Guide too, Mulder." She flashes a quick grin. "Better than skin mags."

"Research." He cranes his head. "Is that Grubeck?"

"Or his twin," Scully says grimly. Mulder lifts the arm from her shoulders and waves at Grubeck, who makes his way slowly to them.

"What's going on?" Scully says. "Is the surveillance over?"

"Dincha hear? Team shagged 'im block from here four hours ago." Grubeck squints at them. "Finito."

Mulder feels his eyes tighten with anger. Deliberately forgotten, left in this restaurant. For himself he minds less, but Scully doesn't deserve it. Grubeck shifts from one pudgy foot to the other.

"Well," says Scully dryly. "Looks like there is such a thing as a free lunch. Or at least an expensed lunch." She drains her tonic and touches his arm.

It was easier to be alone, but the rough joy she raises in him is a better armor than misery. He stands tall, towering over Grubeck, and ghosts along behind Scully as she strides out of the place, his fingertips grazing her spine. It is one of those DC end-of-summer evenings: the air is thick and gold as honey, so that breathing is a slow effort. Scully's idea of civvies is a tank top and a filmy skirt that looks as if she inherited it from Melissa: Mulder admires the bronzy glaze of sunset on her collarbones. She stops abruptly at a corner and props her hands on her hips.

"I feel like smacking the crap out of something," she announces. "Let's go to the batting cages."

He loops his arms around her when they get there, reminding her how to hold the bat; they both pretend she's forgotten. The nape of her neck smells like a picnic. He tries not to breathe her in too noisily. She plants her shoulders against his chest and crows when they connect. Later, tired of the machine, he lobs easy underhanded pitches for her and teases her for the wiggle of her hips as she sets up to swing.

"Technique," she insists, and slaps one back at him so hard and fast he has to dodge.

XI.

That night, like every night, he can't believe he doesn't say it.

[sherrybaby14]

Actions Speak Louder than Words

Summary:  This is based off a prompt where reader is trying to seduce a shy!Bucky and finally he snaps

Pairing:  Bucky x Gender Neutral Reader (there is a swimsuit reference, if you’re a female you’re wearing a two piece)

Warnings:  Darker smut, but not exactly noncon, Spankity-spank-spank

“This is a hard case.”  Tony leaned forward on the conference table. “We have to act fast.”  

The situation wrote itself and you leaned forward, whispering in Bucky’s ear.

“I’d like you to act hard and fast with me.”  You grinned as you leaned back in your chair.  

Bucky whipped his head around and stared at you with those wide blue eyes. You gave an exaggerated wink and he turned back around.  If he didn’t give you such a rise maybe you wouldn’t enjoy taunting him as much.  

~~

“If I could figure out how to separate these bonds.” Bruce fiddled with the sides of the microscope. “We’d have something to work with here.”  

Again.  Your coworkers did all the heavy lifting.  Bucky was right in front of you.  

“If you had me in bonds, while I’d NEVER want us to get separated.” You stepped back.  

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at you, the eyes even wider this time.  You ran your tongue over your top lip and blew him a kiss.  His cheeks turned red before he could go back to paying attention to Bruce’s science experiment.  The reaction made your heart warm.  Too easy.

~~~

You walked into the gym and it wasn’t empty.  Bucky was at the bench press, lifting more weight than should be humanly possible.  Bucky all alone was your favorite.  You could really make him squirm this way.

“How about instead of the weights, I just straddle you?”  You leaned over Bucky and his balance of the dumbbell shifted. “ You can pump me up and down all night. Really get the blood flowing?”

He reset the bar and shot up on the bench.  This time his blue eyes blinked while his mouth hung open.  You reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“I don’t bite…unless your into that sort of thing.”  You opened your mouth and ran your tongue over your teeth. “And I bet you have a healthy piece of meat I’d love to get a taste of.”  

It looked like steam was going to come out of his ass and he was going to rocket right off into space.

“Hey Buck, sorry I’m late.”  Steve walked into the gym. “Oh Y/N, you’re here.  Did you take over for me?  I told Bucky I’d spot for him.”  

“I’ve spotted Bucky quite a bit lately.”  You smiled at Steve. “I’m sure he could use a break.”  

You strutted out of the gym, feeling pretty pleased with your latest tease. Bucky made it that much more fun.  You would hold onto that expression for a long time.  

~~

“Y/N is fucking with me again.”  Bucky shook his head.

“Y/N is harmless.”  Steve crossed his arms in disbelief. “Just a friendly person.  Like that with everyone.”  

“I’m telling you, this is different.  Little comments here and there.”  Bucky was used to people leaving him alone, being scared of him, but you through him for a loop constantly.

“I hate to break it to you bud, but you’re not a people person.  You’re probably misinterpreting them.”  Steve moved to the barbell.  “Y/N is being nice, and if it really bothers you call em out next time.  You’re not shy with me. I think you should appreciate someone on the team interacting with you more.”  

Steve wasn’t getting it, but Bucky nodded.  Maybe calling you out was the answer.  Next time, he wouldn’t be caught off guard.  

~~

Swimming was your preferred workout.  You’d been in the pool for at least an hour.  Your muscles were the perfect amount of sore and relaxed.  You got to the end of the pool and climbed out.  

You grabbed your towel and the door to the pool opened.  A huge grin spread across your face when you saw it was your favorite super soldier, clad in nothing but a swimsuit.  

“Maybe I threw in the towel too early.”  You dropped it on the chair. “Of course if I was in that pool with you, we’d probably turn it into a hot tub.”  

His cheeks started to redden and your heart raced with excitement.  

“This water all over me, it isn’t actually pool water.”  You could do this all night. “You’re so hot, as soon as you walked in the room I broke out in a sweat.”  

Bucky started his rapid blinking and you chuckled.  You stopped right in front of his face and put your hand on his chest.  His heart was racing.  

“If you dropped those shorts maybe I’d be tempted to get back in the water.  I always love a good skinny dip.”  

Bucky’s hand grabbed your wrist and twisted.  

“OWW!”  Your body spun around and he slammed you into the wall.  

The response through you off, but not enough to detour you.  Bucky was harmless and you wouldn’t scare that easy.  

“I always knew you liked it rough.” You looked over your shoulder and smiled.  

The blushed cheeks and wide eyes were gone.  Bucky moved forward so his lips were almost on yours.  You flinched back slightly.  This was a new development.   He let your wrist go, but you only moved your hands to the wall, bracing yourself.  He didn’t know who he was up against.  

“Have I been naughty?”  You winked. “Are you going to punish me?”  

His eyes glanced down and then back up again.  

“Yes.”  Bucky grabbed the waist of your bottoms and tugged down, exposing your bottom half.  

“WOAH!”  You tried to reach down to pull them back on, but Bucky brought his other hand to the small of your back and shoved you into the wall.  

SMACK!  His hand hit your ass, spreading a flame through your rear.  SPANK! SLAM!  The noises echoed across the pool.  

“THAT FUCKING HURTS!” You tried to push off, but his hand held you in place. “STOP!”  

“IT.”  SPANK! “IS.” CLAP! “SUPPOSED.” BANG! “TO.” SMACK.

Your mouth hung open and you tried to suck in air and scream at the same time.  The pain flooded your ass.  

“You need to learn some manners little one.”  Bucky’s voice held no notes of concern.  “Are you ready to apologize?”  

“For what?”  You wanted to reach around and give some relief to the sting in your behind.  

SPANK! SMACK! SLAP! The fire reignited.  

“For being a fucking tease.” BANG! “For thinking you could talk to me that way.”

CLAP! SMACK! SPANK!

It hurt.  It hurt and burned.  

“STOP!”  You tried to wiggle away.

“Wrong word.” SPANK!  

That one hurt worse that the others and your eyes started to tear up.  

“Sorry!  I’m sorry!”  You hung your head.  

“That’s better.”  Bucky let go of your back and you slumped forward.  

Maybe you did underestimate him.  The pain in your rear told you that you wouldn’t be sitting down for a week.  You were crying with your ass on full display and realized that you were the humiliated one now.  

“I’ve always believed actions speak louder than words.”  The sound of Bucky’s shorts dropping made your adrenaline flare.  

You tried to push off the wall, but his hand went to your shoulder.  Your eyes widened when you felt his head at your entrance.  He leaned forward and put his mouth next to your ear.  

“And baby, my actions are loud.”  He thrust forward.  

Your mouth hung open in shock at how easy he entered you.  Maybe it was from the pool water or the steam in the room, but his massive cock invaded you with ease, owning you.  His pelvis rested against your ass, easing the sting.  

“This is what you wanted? Right?”  

You didn’t know how to respond.  Then he slid out and the pain from the spanking came back.  He sank back in and you felt some relief.  

“RIGHT?”  He ran his metal hand over your head and yanked your neck back.  

The tears were still staining you face and you gave what little nod you could.  Now it was him smirking down at you.  He ran his tongue over his lips before dropping your head against the wall.  His hands grabbed your waist and he started fucking you without mercy.  

The pain and pleasure merged into one and you knew that you were going to cum soon.   You took short panicked breaths.  Bucky reached around and started massaging you with his metal hand, bringing a strange sense of cold to your body.  

It was enough to make your release almost instant.  Your vision blurred as your body gave out.  Bucky was your only support.  

“You’ve been teasing me for months Y/N.”  Bucky continued to use your body.  “And I plan on delivering EVERYTHING you asked for.”  

You let out a whimper, as a vision of jokes clouded your vision.  If he lived up to his threat you weren’t sure your brain would work by the end of the night.  

“And baby, I’m a man of my word.”  He continued to fuck you. “Next we’re going to work on that mouth of yours.”  

In the haze you licked your lips.  Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare, maybe it was a dream come true.  

[the-pan-ace-writings]

Chapter 13 Escape

First Previous Masterlist

A/N this one is pretty short in my opinion and i tried writing it a bit different than I normally do, I dont know if ill do that again, but in my opinion its best to try and fail than to not to try at all. 

   Riona woke to distant gunshots. She had to untangle herself from MacCready before she could step outside to try to figure out where it was from. She heard another shot ring out and knew it was from the interchange. 

   She bolted back inside, it was still dark out and they had about two more hours of darkness before the sun even had a chance to rise. She packed everything they had as fast as possible and sent Dogmeat out to scout the area ahead. 

   She had to move them, to leave the area completely. She had finished packing everything up and tried to wake MacCready but he was still out cold from the Med-x she had given him earlier. Frowning she decided it was probably going to be best to head back to Sanctuary, that was at least three hours away but hopefully, it would be mostly clear having been mostly settled down. 

   She gave him the rest of the Med-x that was left, hoping it would keep him out or at least quiet. She put him up on her shoulders and left the shack her sword jostled uncomfortably against her thigh as she took off in a run, her AER 9 clutched in her grip. She tried to keep watch for anything out in the brush that she was running through, trying to say out of sight from the clearings. They had to run north to get to Sanctuary which meant going past the interchange again. 

   She moved slowly as the approached near the interchange trying to remain unseen, but she also starred in horror at the ruined gunner base. The bodies that had been left there were strung up with rope hanging down from the interchange of rebar, and all of the structures were on fire. She stood watching for a moment before Dogmeat came running towards her and started urging her forwards. There was no point in staring, what's done is done. 

   The wind was picking up as she traveled, Dogmeat had come back and stuck with her now that they were almost two miles out from the interchange, you could no longer hear the sounds of firefights but rather her panting. She had wanted to get them all as far away as they could from there so she had run the majority of it but she was already swaying on her feet. 

   It wasn't a good situation that they were in, the wind picking up almost definitely meant it was going to rain and already being overloaded muddy terrain could quickly get them both injured, the only fortunate thing was that most creatures of the night would be hidden away if it started to rain. 

   She looked down at her Pip-boy and cursed the distance. If cars had not gone to hell when the world decided to explode they could be there already, and MacCready could have been helped by now instead of being lugged around drugged up. She was in a near nervous fit over the whole thing, she couldn't have another person die because she couldn't get them help, she refused. 

   She marched as fast as she could without jostling MacCready too much, already worried about running with him in his condition. She could feel the air becoming thick with rain and hear the trees swirling around them. 

   Riona hated storms and it seems like they were about to get a torrential downpour. She cursed and tried to take cover under an overhang of rocks, she managed to put MacCready and secured before it started raining, pelting her unprotected back. She searched for any piece of clothing that would be waterproof and had found an oilskin that was buried at the bottom of her ruck. She took it out immediately and used it to cover MacCready up before they continued on their way to Sanctuary. 

   It had only been an hour since they left the shack and it felt like it had only gotten darker, but she continued. She was drenched within moments, her hair was plastered to her scalp and her armor felt like it weighed an extra ten pounds, her leather trench doing nothing to keep her dry or warm. 

   The rain was coming down in sheets and she was worried it would turn into snow, the ground was sludge beneath her boots, dogmeat had started to walk along the tree line to take whatever type of protection he could get from the rain. Riona didn't dare get that close for fear of the ground falling into root pits with her movement. If she sprained her ankle doing that there would be no way they'd make it to Sanctuary before it was too late to help MacCready.  

    The wind was whipping around them, her coat taut behind her, cold wet air blew into her face and it felt like fire. It was the damn itching of radiation. The sky lit up in sickly green and she saw a tree crash to the ground a few meters in front of them. Another was pulled down directly in front of them, she almost tumbled to the ground trying to avoid being crushed to death by a tree. Dogmeat was howling and darting between her and far ahead trying to avoid falling objects.

   “Dogmeat! Go ahead! Make it to Sanctuary!” she yelled out at him, who was currently dodging another fallen tree. He made another mournful howl before taking off at full speed northwards and out of sight. 

   She had to get them on to a road, away from more trees, but the storm was only worsening and the cold rain was quickly making any type of movement painfully chill. She was shaking with every movement, but she carried on determined to just get them to safety. It started becoming a mindless task, of second nature to just keep moving forward, to get MacCready help and all she could think of was her old squad from  Anchorage and being trapped in her godforsaken power armor. 

   Everything felt useless like there wasn't going to be a happy ending to any of this, even if she got MacCready back to sanctuary there was no telling he’d make it, especially with everything going on. He could be dead right now. It was a dark thought, and something she tried to expel from her mind immediately, but with only the storm and trudging forward it was the only thing that kept returning. 

   She couldn't risk stopping to check and all of a sudden she regretted giving him another dose of MedX, she would take pained garbling and him being angry than this silence. 

   “Cready?” She jostled her shoulders, a vain attempt to check on him. He was silent. It should have been expected but all the dread that resided in her swelled and she couldn't keep herself from silently crying, itching rain mixing with her tears. 

   Riona had lost track of how long she had carried them, or how far. It was almost sunrise and she could feel the storm letting up. She tried to raise her arm to look at the pip-boy but found the movement excruciating, she cried out. 

   All she could hope for was sunrise, she could determine the direction she was going in at the very least. Her awareness was starting to slip from her, she’d stopped looking out for danger and instead focused solely on getting to the bridge. 

   She hoped Dogmeat had made it back and they would have alerted the settlement. She hoped the General would know what to do because she was hopeless at this point. She was convinced she was carrying the dead and her only solace was that she could get him back to somewhere with a little bit of beauty. 

   The sun brought faint light and the end to the storm. She was still soaked through but the rising sun revealed just how close they were to Sanctuary. She jostled MacCready again.

   “Cready, we made it.” She was crying again, the moment she reached the bridge to the development she collapsed. Dogmeat was already barking up a storm trying to get attention to her and was partially dragging the General by his coattails to her. 

   The moment Preston had seen them he called out for help, and Riona closed her eyes taking in the morning rays where she could finally just let go momentarily in the safety of Sanctuary. 

    “What the hell happened to you guys!” He was waving down a doctor that had settled down here as he worked on separating her and MacCready along with their gear. 

   “Cleared out Mass Pike, he was shot. Couldn't stay.” she was barely conscious at this point, the exertion of her travel starting to take over. “Gave him Medx to keep him out.” Preston leaned over her to examine the red blotches on her skin. 

   “Rad Rain. Riona you know how badly radiation like that affects you.” he had brushed her hair back to view her face better. Her face crumpled in distress. 

  “He can't die, please, Preston the radiation does matter, he can't die.” she was pleading with him and looked like she was going to be ill. The Doctor had dropped down next to her and she shoved her away. “Him, help him.” and very nearly snarled when she reached for her again, almost lunging at her. Preston pulled her back and nodded at the doctor before he lifted her off the ground. 

   “Riona we’ll help him, but you need to be tended to before you get ill.” He was bringing her to her home and quickly called in Codsworth who took over. She was extremely dizzy and could barely stand herself. 

   The moment she was settled into the tub and surrounded by warm water she nearly slipped into sleep, Preston had gone to collect supplies for both Codsworth and for the town doctor. 

   “Mum, I thought we agreed last time you wouldn't overexpose yourself.” He was hovering behind her helping wash her hair while she haphazardly cleaned up her body. 

   “It was important.” They didn't know MacCready, none of them did. She hadn't been here in a long time and especially after the wall she hit trying to find Shaun. It pained her to be back in her home, quiet and childless and while Codsworth didn't mean to upset her he nearly constantly asked about Shaun. 

   Once she was mostly cleaned up Codsworth helped her to her room and let her dress before coming back in and insisting that she “lay down for a spell” She was almost asleep burrowed under numerous blankets that he insisted on pilling on to her,

   “Codsworth?” she was quiet again, in a whisper. 

   “Yes, Mum?” He had turned back to her eyes focusing on her and brought one of his hands to pet her head. 

   “Will you please make up the guest room?” 

   She knew the doctor's building was small and figured if when he came to, he’d want somewhere else to stay. Codsworth just hummed affirmatively and stayed with her till she was forced to stop worrying and was pulled into sleep from exhaustion. 

Next

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Chapter 7

A/N I’m going to start posting once or twice a week now. Give me time to work on the future chapters and make them great for you. But now, it’s time to meet the Allens!

Kate fidgeted in her seat, waiting for the few cars driving down the road to pass so she could cross and go down her street.  Chris was sitting in the passenger seat looking at his surroundings.  She lived kind of in the middle of nowhere.  There were woods surrounding the road they were about to drive down.  She slowed down near the fourth, well spaced out mailbox and pulled into the driveway there.  

The brick rancher sat in a large clearing.  Where the garage door used to be was a set of dark oak French doors with beautiful stained glass windows in the top half of each.  The main entrance to the house was a single door similar to the French doors at the top of a wide porch.  It was a wide dark oak and the stained glass was the entire middle of the door and on either side were long, thin stained glass windows.  There was a large picture window in the middle of the house with jewel blue and chocolate brown curtains covering it.

Peeking out from those curtains were two dogs that Chris recognized as Denali and Galway.  They were barking madly as Kate parked and turned the car off. “Home sweet home.” She said. “We’ll go in my doors here so we can get our bags in safely.” Chris collected his bag and grabbed Kate’s two bags as well.  She had her purse and carryon bag and was unlocking the French doors.

“These are pretty.” Chris said, admiring the doors.

“Thanks.  I actually picked them out.  And the front door.  It was a mother’s day present from me, my brother, and my step dad.”

“You’re the only car here.  Where is everyone?”

“Work, probably.  We got here earlier than planned.” Kate set her purse and carry on bag down on the leather recliner. “Well, this is my little garage apartment.” In the front was the recliner and a matching sofa set up in front of a 50” Samsung flat screen Smart TV.  The TV was surrounded by a custom TV center made up of two floor to ceiling bookshelves, a row of cubbies above the TV, and an entertainment center below the TV.  The bookshelves were stocked with all kinds of books, photo albums, and DVDs and BluRays.  The entertainment stand was neatly organized with a desktop computer CPU, a Playstation 4, a Direct TV box, and a charging cradle for the Playstation controllers.  Through the glass doors, he could see more DVDs and BluRays.  The cubbies above the TV held knick knacks, stuffed animals, and picture frames.

In the middle of the room were the two large, folding screens with famous landmarks from England, France, and Italy painted on them.  They extended from each wall, creating a wall of their own with a large gap in the middle that served as a doorway to the bedroom.  Between the screen and the TV center was a small refrigerator and a counter with a microwave.

Behind the screen on the left was Kate’s queen sized bed with her stuffed Thumper sitting in front of the pillows.  On the opposite wall from the bed behind the screen on the right was a large, custom closet set up that extended from floor to ceiling.  There were small, shallow drawers for jewelry and larger, deeper drawers for clothing on one side.  In the middle were two large doors that opened to the wardrobe.  On the other side were shelves for shoes.  On the top of it were cabinets for storing bags and other things.  A folding footstool sat between a small flight of stairs and the shelves so Kate could climb up and collect things from the top cabinets.

The small flight of stairs led to a short hallway with two doors, one straight ahead with a small doggy door and one to the right.  The one on the right was Kate’s bathroom.  It wasn’t large, but it had a nice floor to ceiling shower, a good-sized vanity and a toilet.  The door at the end of the hallway led into the main house.  To the left was a step down into a utility room where the washer and dryer was along with a door to the backyard.  To the right was the den with a fireplace and a custom built desk that extended across the far wall.  There was a large and a small archway on one wall.  The smaller archway led to the kitchen while the other led to the living room.  

They didn’t make it past the den, though, because Denali and Galway were on them.  They begged for love from Kate, rubbing against her and barking.  When they noticed Chris, they both abandoned Kate to get love from the stranger in their house.  Chris got down on his knees and played with them.  Kate watched them for a few seconds before she went to the dining room to see if she had any mail on the table.  A wall that stretched halfway across the house separated the kitchen from the living room.  The dining room sat at the end of the wall, connecting the kitchen and the living room.

A hallway led from the living room to the three bedrooms and the bathroom.  Her parents had the master bedroom, her old room, which was the second largest room, was now a guest room slash office, and her sister Janice’s room was the smallest room.  The bathroom was a large bathroom with a stand up shower in one corner and a large, deep Jacuzzi tub in the other corner.  There was a long vanity with two sinks and the toilet sat in a space between the vanity and the tub.

“Come on, guys!  Go outside.” Kate said to the dogs as she rifled through her mail.  The dogs ran ahead to the utility room and bolted out the door into the large, fenced in backyard as soon as she opened it.

“This place is nice.” Chris said behind her. “You grew up here?”

“Yeah.  We moved in my sophomore year of high school and haven’t left.” She gestured at the yard where the dogs were running. “This whole area was terrible.  Overgrown and there were tree stumps everywhere.  My step dad has really fixed the place up over the last fourteen years.  The next thing on his honey-do list is the kitchen.  Mom wants new cabinets and a new dishwasher along with a new refrigerator.  She’ll probably get a new sink and new countertops, too.  Complete overhaul.  Come on, Gally!” Her Boston terrier ran back in the house while Denali continued running around the backyard. “I don’t like to leave Gally out there.  There’s a bald eagle that’s tried to take off with her a few times.”

“Shit!”

Kate picked Gally up and the pooch settled in her owner’s arms cradled against her chest, trying furiously to lick Kate’s face. “I know it’s a felony, but I will kill that bird if it harms one piece of fur on my baby.” She kissed Gally’s nose and set her back down on the ground to follow her and Chris back into Kate’s room.  She flopped down on the bed and sighed. “I have missed this bed.” Gally climbed up the pet stairs on one side and marched up to the head of the bed, laying down on one of the pillows.  Kate watched her and shook her head. “Spoiled brat.”

Chris sat down on the bed and laid back. “Wow.  This bed is comfy.”

“I told you.  It’s definitely more comfortable than yours.”

“Well, I still can’t judge that.  I haven’t slept in it yet.  Or done anything strenuous to test it out.” He rolled up on his side and ran his hand over her ribs. “I mean, we’re alone right now….”

“Travelling doesn’t take it out of you?”

“Are you tired?”

“A little bit.”

“Too tired for….” Chris was cut off by Gally walking up and licking him on his nose.  Kate burst out laughing and Gally snuggled herself by Kate’s head.  Chris laughed and rubbed the Boston’s belly. “Spoiled brat is right.”

Kate pushed Gally towards the edge of the bed. “Go lay on the couch.” Gally hopped down and trotted over to the couch with a huff. “Am I too tired for what?”

Chris leaned down and kissed her deeply, running his hand up her shirt.  He was about to climb on top of her when a loud banging came from her front doors.  They both shot up, smacking their heads together in the process.  Gally started barking madly at the door, jumping up and down in front of it.  A moment later, just as they finished putting themselves together, Kate’s step-dad unlocked the front door and walked into her garage apartment.

“Katie!  You’re home early.” He said in his Southern drawl, petting Gally as she jumped up on the recliner to be loved on. “We weren’t expecting you until this evening.”

“Yeah.” Kate smiled at her step-father. “My flight was booked so we took an earlier flight together.”

“Who’s we?” He was looking Chris up and down.

“Papa, this is Chris.  Chris, this is my papa Bill.”

“The Boston boy.” Bill nodded, still looking highly suspicious of Chris. “We’ve heard a lot about you.  Mostly from her brother.”

“I’ve told you about him.” Kate insisted.  Bill just grunted. “Ok, papa, you’re very intimidating.  Good job.  Chris is intimidated, aren’t you Chris?”

“Yes.” Chris said.  He wasn’t entirely lying.

“You’ve done your fatherly duty, now be a normal human being for once in your life and be nice.”

“Where’s the fun in being a normal human being?” Bill asked.

“It’s completely underrated.  Try it sometime, you’ll see.”

Bill held his hand out to Chris and Chris shook it, wincing slightly at the pressure the older man was putting on. “I’ve been to prison before, son, and I’m not afraid to go back.  Don’t hurt my daughter.”

“Papa!  Ok, out.  Leave.  Goodbye.  I’ve got to get unpacked.” Kate hustled her step-father back out the door.  Gally followed him out, but he shooed her back inside.

“Call your mother and let her know you’ll be home for dinner…. With a guest.”

“Ok.  Love you.” Kate shut the door and shook her head, muttering to herself. “I am so sorry, Chris.”

Chris chuckled, petting Gally between the ears. “It’s ok.  Has he really been to prison?” Kate shot him a look that told him her step-father was dead serious about that one. “Oh shit.”

“Don’t worry.  Asshole McGhee is still walking this earth.  So, you stand a chance against my papa.” Asshole McGhee was the name she’d given her ex that had cheated on her and nearly ruined her life.

“Good to know.  Are you sure I shouldn’t get a hotel?”

“I’m sure.  It was part of the agreement with my parents when I paid to renovate the garage into an apartment that they stay out of my business.  This is my apartment, that’s their house.  He doesn’t usually just barge in like that.”

“Extenuating circumstances?”

“Like me meeting someone in Boston on a trip by myself and wanting to make sure I’m not dead or suddenly have a pimp?  Yeah.  That’s his definition of extenuating.”

“So, you paid to renovate this place?”

“Yeah.  I took out a small loan for it.  I just finished paying it off earlier this year.”

“What happens when you decide to move out?”

Kate shrugged. “They’ll probably add a small stove and rent it out for more than they’re charging me.”

“They charge you rent?”

“Well, sort of.  It’s kind of a roommate set up.  I pay a portion of all the bills.”

“Oh.  Sorry, I don’t mean to pry into your finances.”

“It’s ok.  I’m going to start unpacking.” She handed him the remote. “Make yourself comfy.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Later that evening, Chris was watching a Golden Girls marathon while Kate was stretched out on the couch beside him with her head in his lap.  She’d fallen asleep and had stayed that way for almost two hours now.  He didn’t mind.  He happily stayed still and stroked her hair, running his fingers gently through the golden mass.  She hadn’t styled it, so her naturally wavy hair was on display.  He decided that he liked it better that way.

A knock at the door in the short hallway disturbed Gally’s sleeping form on the back of the couch.  She shot up, barking, and jumped down on Kate’s hip.  Kate yelped and curled into a little ball, glaring fiercely at her dog as she ran for the door.  She sat up, rubbing her hip, and looked around.

“Ugh, what time is it?”

“About 5:30.” Chris said.

“Wow, I was out.” Kate stood up and went over to answer the door.  It was her mother. “Sorry, I was asleep.  Gally, hush!  It’s just Granny.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early.  I would’ve come home early, too.” Helena said, hugging her daughter tightly.

“I meant to call you, but I fell asleep.  But I’m glad we got here early so I could unpack.  Now I can show Chris around tomorrow.” Helena spotted Chris standing up from the couch and let out a startled noise. “Mom, this is….”

“You think I don’t recognize Captain America?”

“This is Chris.  Chris, this is my mom, Helena.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Chris said, shaking Helena’s hand. “Kat talks about you a lot.”

“She talks about you, a lot, too.” Helena replied.

“Mom!” Kate’s face was turning a deep pink.

“What?  You do.  How did I not know that your Boston boy was Chris Evans?”

“Quit being rude.  And you didn’t know because I didn’t tell you.  Also, you don’t pay attention to the internet.”

“I did see a story on Facebook yesterday about Chris Evans being at a game with some blonde girl.  I didn’t think for a second it was you.”

“Thanks.”

Helena shrugged. “The pictures weren’t that great and I can’t see great anyway.” She looked at Chris. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Chris smiled. “I know this isn’t the most orthodox thing on the planet, but I really do like your daughter.  A lot.  I hope that we can get to know each other and I can prove to you that I’ll make a good partner for her.”

Helena nodded. “You’re polite.  That’s good.  I won’t grill you too hard right now.  I think we’ll have time for that later if you’re spending the week.  Right now,” She looked at her daughter. “I don’t feel like cooking tonight.  Let’s go out somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m tired of eating out somewhere.” Kate said. “I’ll cook, if you want.”

“If you want to, but I’m not helping.”

“You say that every time and every time you wander into the kitchen and nitpick.”

Helena shrugged. “So what are you making?”

“I don’t know.  Dinner.” Kate turned to Chris. “Do you wanna run to the store with me and we can pick something out?”

“Sure.” Chris smiled. “That sounds great.”

“Ok.”

“Take your sister, please.” Helena said as she headed back for the main part of the house with Gally hot on her heels.

“What?  Why?”

“Because she needs to do something besides work and watch TV.”

“Mom, you have tomorrow off and you can make her do all the things then.  I am not spending twenty minutes combing the store trying to find her because she’s roamed off somewhere.  I just want to get the groceries and get back.”

“You’re being mean.”

“No.  I’m being practical.  If you want to eat dinner on time, then Jan stays here.”

“Fine.  Have it your way.” Helena disappeared into the hallway and the door shutting came a moment later.

“Sorry.” Kate turned back to Chris. “Jan has this thing where she roams off everywhere we go.  It’s a real pain in the ass when she does it at Target or Wal-Mart.  I once spent forty five minutes searching for her at Target.  And don’t get me started on taking her to the mall.”

Chris shrugged. “I didn’t think you were being mean.”

Kate grabbed her purse off the recliner and pulled her keys out. “Mom is always quick to defend Jan.  Especially from me.  Like I said, she still thinks I’m that misguided teen who was angry and took things out on my little sister.” She sighed as she opened the front door. “This week is going to be so much fun.”

“I think it will be.”

“You haven’t met Janice yet.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate had decided on salmon steaks, rice, and a roasted vegetable medley for dinner.  She’d had to get a chicken breast for her sister because Jan refused to eat the salmon.  Chris sat in the living room talking with Kate’s parents while she cooked.  Jan wasn’t very engaged in the conversation.  Her eyes were glued to the TV as they usually were.  Gally was sitting in Chris’ lap demanding to be petted while he talked.  Denali would come over and nudge him for attention, but Gally would manage to get his hands back on her.

When dinner was about ready, Chris offered to set the table.  Kate directed him to where everything was located and he kissed her cheek every time he walked by.  Helena came in and checked on the food for about the dozenth time, nodding her approval at her daughter’s cooking skills.

“We got pie for dessert.” Chris announced as they sat down at the table. “Key lime.”

“It’s the kind you like, papa.” Kate added.

“I don’t like key lime.” Jan said.

“Then don’t eat it.”

“Kate.” Helena warned.

“What?  No one is forcing her to eat the pie.”

Helena rolled her eyes and looked at Chris. “Usually I would ask you what you do for a living, but that seems like a stupid question.”

“Why?” Bill asked.

“He’s Captain America.”

“Oh.”

“You liked ‘Snowpiercer’, papa.” Kate reminded him as she passed him the bowl of rice. “Remember?  You watched it a few months ago.”

“That’s the one on the train, right?”

“Yeah.” Chris said.

“So that was you, huh?  That was a good movie.”

“Thank you.”

“Mom was a theatre major in college.” Kate said to Chris. “I can’t remember if I told you that.”

“Yeah.  You mentioned it.” Chris looked at Helena. “What college did you go to?”

“Southern Illinois University.” Helena said. “They had a good theatre program.”

“Were you on stage a lot?”

“I liked the backstage work more, but I did a few plays.”

“I guess Kat gets her creative side from you?”

“She gets it from both her parents.  Her father is talented in his own right.” Bill snorted and Helena shot him a look as he scooped up a large helping of veggies.

“Mom won’t say bad things about my father.” Kate explained, a forkful of salmon on her way to her mouth. “She still thinks it’s wrong to speak badly of him in front of her kids.”

“I’ve got plenty of things to say if you want to hear them.” Bill said, shooting his daughter a mischievous glint.

“You’ll do no such thing, William Allen.” Helena said.

Chris looked over at Kate and she smiled slightly. “I took his last name after I turned eighteen.” She explained. “It used to be Loewenthal.”

“That’s a mouthful.” Chris said, seemingly demonstrating by shoveling a mouthful of rice into his mouth.

“Yeah.  People have never pronounced it right.”

“Her father wouldn’t sign the papers to let her change her name when she was younger.” Helena said. “She had to wait until she was old enough.

“Kat told me about everything you guys went through.  I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Thank you.  So you’ve seen some of Kate’s pictures?”

“Yes, ma’am.  She showed them to me in Boston.  They’re amazing.”

“She does have a good eye for it.  Katie’s always been creative.  From the figure skating and the dancing to the plays she did in high school and now the pictures.  She really loved to be on stage, though.  The military base near here has a playhouse and they put on ‘Cinderella’ last year.  She tried out for the lead role and was sure she wasn’t going to get it because she thought she was terrible at the audition.  She ended up playing Cinderella every weekend for about six weeks.”

“Do you remember when I did ‘Grease’ that one summer back home in Kentucky?”

“Was that when they condemned the theatre?”

“Yeah.” Kate looked at Chris. “The place was really old and needed to be torn down, but for some reason, they let the theatre company do ‘Grease’.  They had marks on the stage where it wasn’t a good idea to stand because you might fall through.  And a good portion of the marks we were supposed to hit were right over or right next to the bad marks.  The whole play was us hopping around and trying not to fall through the stage while singing.”

Chris laughed. “That must’ve been a sight.”

“I’ve got a video of it.” Helena said. “We converted our old VHS tapes to DVDs about a year ago.  I’ll have to dig some out for you.”

“I would love that.  Thank you very much, Mrs. Allen.”

“Oh, call me Helena.  I feel old when people call me missus.”

“It’s because you are old.” Bill said. “You’re two years older than me, Mr. Allen.”

“I admit that I’m old.  Catch up.”

Kate saw Chris smiling at her parents’ banter.  She took his hand under the table and he turned that smile on her. “Usually papa isn’t so reserved.  Give him a couple of days and he’ll be at the table in just his underwear and turning everything said into a sexual innuendo.”

“It’s a gift my husband has.” Helena said. “Some things he says you just sit there and wonder how he got from point A to point Sex.”

“He also wins the lottery a lot.  But only scratch offs.  Never the Power Ball or anything.”

“My luck doesn’t work with that.” Bill said. “I don’t know why.”

“Slot machines are goldmines for him, too.” Helena added. “We went to Las Vegas and left with more than we came with.  I saved money for the trip and he took twenty dollars of it and paid for the whole trip with that twenty.”

“Nice!” Chris said. “What’s your secret?”

“It’s no secret.” Kate said. “He has a golden horseshoe jammed up his ass.  Which I better inherit when you bite it, old man.”

“You’ve got to dig it out if you want it.” Bill retorted. “I’m not getting it for you.”

“I’ll just get the undertaker to haul it out.”

“He’ll probably steal it for himself.”

“Nope.  I’ll be there taking pictures.”

“What about your brother?  He’s first in line.”

“He makes six figures a year and I’m pretty sure he’s CIA.  He doesn’t need a golden horseshoe.”

“Your brother is CIA?” Chris asked.

“I think he is.”

“He’s not CIA.” Helena said.

“He’s secretive about where he goes.  He can’t talk about most aspects of his job.  And he knows too much about things I can’t explain how he knows about them.  He’s definitely CIA.”

“That’s kind of terrifying.” Chris said.

“Right!?  I’ve been trying to get him to fess up, but he swears he’s not.  I just say the brother doth protest too much.”

Chris looked over at Janice who had been quiet this whole time. “Janice, are you close with your brother?” Janice just shrugged.

“Don’t be rude, Janice.  Answer him.” Helena said.

“Not really.” Janice said.

Chris tried again. “Kat says that you like movies.  What are some of your favorites?”

“I don’t like superhero movies.”

“That’s not what he asked.” Bill snapped.

“Bill….” Helena started.

“Helena, there’s no reason for her to be so rude.”

Janice let out a loud huff and stood up from the table, storming off back to her bedroom and slamming the door.  Helena closed her eyes in frustration and Kate shook her head. “Sorry, Chris.” Kate said. “She’s uh…. Well, I told you she’s a handful.”

Helena started to get up, but Bill stopped her. “No.  Let her sulk.  We’ve got company and she doesn’t need to be out here if she’s going to act that way.” He looked over at Kate. “The food is delicious, baby.  I love it.”

“Thank you.” Kate said, happy that her step-dad had relieved the sudden tension. “I saw the recipe on Pinterest and wanted to try it.”

“You and your aunt.” Helena said. “You’re always on Pinterest.”

“Oh, like you’re not?” Kate shot back playfully. “Don’t forget I’m friends with you on there.  I’m pretty sure you have ninety eight percent of the recipes on Pinterest pinned to your food board.”

“Eighty two percent.” Helena said with a laugh. “There’s some on there that are just plain silly.”

“Kat said you learned to cook in France.” Chris said. “That’s really cool.”

“It was one of the many places I learned.” Helena said. “My brother was stationed in Germany and I spent the summer with him a couple of times.  I met this old French woman while visiting Paris and she invited me to come to her house because I loved food so much.  I ended up living with her for a month while she taught me all kinds of things about cooking and baking.”

“Helena has lived a remarkable life.” Bill said. “But her best moments are when she’s asleep.”

“Bill….”

“Has Katie told you that her mother sleep walks?”

“No.” Chris said.

“Here we go.” Helena said.

“Our dog Ireland used to sleep on my side of the bed and she would nudge my hand to get me to pet her in the middle of the night.  One night she nudged me and when I went to pet her, she wasn’t there.  I didn’t think much of it and went back to sleep, but she did it again.  So I opened my eyes to see her staring up past me with a weird look on her face.  I look over and Helena is standing spread eagle against the wall like she’s being patted down by the police.  I said, ‘Helena, what the hell are you doing?’  She didn’t even look at me.  She just said, ‘Never mind.  Go back to sleep.’” Chris started laughing and Bill joined in.

Helena rolled her eyes. “I think they’re making it all up.”

“No.  You’ve scared the shit out of me with your sleepwalking.” Kate insisted. “I woke up one night when I felt someone staring at me.  You know that creepy feeling you get?  Well, I opened my eyes and she was right over me.  When I said her name…. Mom, not her actual name…. She said, ‘Don’t fight the nuns.  They’re going to kill you.’  Then she just stood up straight and walked out.  I was scared to even move.” 

Chris’ hand was holding his chest as he laughed. “Oh my god!”

“I was just trying to protect my daughter.” Helena said.

“I’ve been terrified of nuns ever since.” Kate joked. “Thank god it didn’t happen when I was going to Catholic school.  That would’ve really fucked me up.”

“I don’t think Katie inherited that from me.”

“I didn’t.  I just got the insomnia and the restless legs.”

“I keep telling you to go to the doctor about that.”

“I don’t see how those sleep studies work.  I sleep bad enough as it is.  Hooking me up to a bunch of machines and filming me isn’t going to make me sleep better.  There’s no way the data is accurate.”

“My mom has RLS.” Chris said. “She hated the sleep study they did on her, but the medicine they gave her has helped.”

“Does it make her tired?” Helena asked.

“It knocks her right out.”

“Mine does, too.  Katie picks on me at night when we’re watching a TV show and I start falling asleep.”

“It’s to keep you from saying something in your sleep that will traumatize me.” Kate said.  She smiled as Chris and Bill started laughing.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris crawled into the bed in just his underwear as Kate finished up in the bathroom.  They had stayed up kind of late watching home movies of Kate performing on stage and skating.  Watching her skating videos had given him an idea.  While Kate was at work Monday, he would have to look into making that idea come true.

Kate walked down the stairs and smiled at him. “That’s a good sight.”

“Hmm?” Chris asked, snuggling deeper into the bed.

“Chris Evans in my bed.  I guess Princess Aurora was right.” She climbed in next to him.

“What was she right about?”

Kate pointed at the little wooden sign hanging by the stairs.  It had the silhouette of Aurora dancing with Prince Phillip and in pretty scroll letters next to it, it said, “If you dream something more than once, it’s sure to come true.”  

Chris chuckled. “Well, we are comparable to Phillip and Aurora.  You said so yourself.”

Kate laughed. “Once upon a dream.”

Chris pulled her to him. “What did you dream about me doing in this bed?”

“Oh, a little of this and a little of that.”

He laughed. “You’re quoting the movie.”

“Of course I am.”

“I do love that movie.”

“Me too.”

“So, tell me.  What does dream Chris do that I need to live up to?”

“You really want to know?” 

“Oh, I really want to.” He nuzzled her just behind her ear, making her sudder.

“Well, in one dream he finds a pair of handcuffs that I own and uses those on me.”

“Kinky.  What about specifics?  What exactly does he do to you while he’s got you restrained?”

“Hmm…. There’s a lot of teasing with his mouth.  Sometimes he has a beard and sometimes he’s Steve Rogers clean.  I prefer the beard because it can tickle and scratch at the same time.”

Chris moved her hair away from her neck and started kissing her shoulder and neck. “What about with his hands?”

“Oh, he uses those too.  I’m pretty sure there’s not one inch of my skin that isn’t touched by him.”

He reached down as far as he could and ran his hand up her thigh, over her hip, and across her ribcage before cupping her breast as he bit down lightly on her shoulder. “What else?”

“Um….” It was getting hard for her to think clearly with his roaming hands and his erection pushing into her backside.  She could feel the slight movements against her as his hips pumped almost imperceptibly. “God…. Uh…. He spent a lot of time between my thighs.  Biting and sucking and licking…. Jesus, Chris, I can’t even think right now.”

Chris pulled her onto her back and moved over her, attaching his mouth to her right breast.  She let out a moan as one of his hands snaked down her stomach and dipped below her underwear.  He made an almost purring noise when he discovered how wet she was for him.  His fingers began to lightly swirl her clit, teasing her, as he moved his lips down her body.  Before he reached her thighs, he looked up and grinned.

“Hold onto the headboard.” He said, voice husky. “Don’t let go until I tell you.” She reached up and gripped two of the slats of the headboard.  

He smiled and went back to kissing, licking, and sucking his way around her thighs as he worked her underwear down her legs.  Once they were gone, he spread her legs out and rested them on his shoulders.  His tongue flicked out over her folds and she writhed under him.  He gently raked his nails on her hips as he gripped them to hold her still.  She held on tightly to the headboard as he sent bolts of pleasure throughout her body.  Just as she felt the first waves of her orgasm start, he pulled his mouth away.  She let out a squeak of disappointment.

“What happens next?” He asked, moving back up her body.

“Uh….” She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. “In that dream…. I don’t know.” He shot her a confused look. “I wake up before the next thing.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to adlib.” He looked at her body appraisingly. “How much flexibility did you maintain from figure skating?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.” She smirked up at him and he chuckled.

“Oh, I intend to.” Chris sat up on his knees between her legs and reached behind him to grab her ankles.  

Instead of keeping them spread once they were in front of him, he held them together and braced them both on his left shoulder.  He leaned forward until her knees were touching her chest.  She moaned when he pushed deep inside of her, the angle making her feel full of him.  His pace was slow and steady, bordering on torturous.  Their grunts and moans were almost in sync with each other.  When he wanted to pick up the pace, he sat back up on his knees and spread her legs to either side of him, holding her knees against his ribs.  He picked up the pace and was pleased to see that she never let go of the headboard.

“I thought…. you were…. going to…. test…. my flex…. ability.” She said, between thrusts.

Chris grunted and pulled out of her, dropping her legs. “You can let go of the headboard now and get on all fours.” She did as he asked, moving slowly so he could enjoy the show.  Once she made it on all fours, he lifted her left leg up behind her and rested her shin on his shoulder.  He was impressed that she didn’t even flinch. “How far up can I push this leg?”

“Well, I used to be able to reach behind me and pull it up behind my head.  I don’t think it would go that far now, but try for a ninety-degree angle.”

He scooted closer and her leg went up, her toes pointing at the ceiling.  He had to lean back slightly to enter her from behind, but when he did, the sensations were incredible.  The angle was so different than anything he’d ever experienced before.  She’d never tried this position before, either.  They both couldn’t hold back the noises that escaped their lips.  He felt her flutter around him and then seize down on him suddenly.  She cried out into her pillows as he picked the pace up through her orgasm.  Her hands dug into the covers and she collapsed down off her hands to her elbows.  The new angle pulled him in deeper and soon she was coming again.  When the last of her second orgasm began to fade, he felt himself about to go.  She squeezed her pelvic muscles and he yelped, spilling himself inside her.

They laid on the bed staring at the ceiling and panting.  Both of them were covered in a fine sheen of sweat.  When they looked at each other, they both started laughing.  He pulled her to him and she laid her head on his chest.

“How’s your leg?” Chris asked.

“Stretched and ready to go.” She answered. “The other one is a little jealous.”

He patted her right leg. “Next time.”

Tag List:

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[hotforharrison]

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream: ch 5

Chapter 4 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 6

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: He’d been in your dreams almost your whole life, but was it real?

Word Count: 1,434

Warnings: Language and adult discussions for this chapter.

A/N: It’s a cliffhanger! (Sort of.)

You arrived at the hotel two bus transfers and a taxi ride later, about half an hour early. Your long day of waiting was almost over.

The hotel was nicer than you expected. It had a lobby pond with two swans. You sat on a bench where you could watch the swans swimming around while you waited eagerly.

Half an hour came and went while the swans swam around aimlessly. You reassured yourself that he was probably just running late. Atlanta was a busy city. Just to be sure, you checked your notepad to be absolutely certain you were in the right hotel. You were.

After a full hour, you started having doubts. Maybe what he wanted to tell you was that he was having second thoughts about meeting you in the waking world.

After two hours, you wondered if he was even real at all. Maybe you needed to stop hiding The White Room and talk to a psychiatrist about it. Who in their right mind sneaks out in the middle of the night to run away to meet someone they’ve only seen in their dreams?

Tears dripped down your face as you stared down at your hands.

“Are you okay, miss?”

You glanced up to see a concerned hotel staff member.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for someone. He’s probably just running late.”

“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be at the front desk.”

“Thanks.”

She walked away.

You weren’t sure how long you should continue waiting before you gave up. Your watch ticked the seconds by, and the sun had set outside long ago. Where would you even go? You hadn’t factored that into your plan at all. It had all been riding on Tom actually being real and showing up. Shit.

You picked at the skin around your fingernails and fidgeted, feeling like a lovesick idiot. Happy 18th birthday to you.

Someone sat down next to you on the bench, and you looked up.

It was Tom. The White Room was real. Oh my god.

“I’m so sorry I left you waiting all this time, darling,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” you sniffled.

He felt more real, more solid in the waking world. You buried your face in his shoulder to get the rest of your tears out while he rubbed your back.

“You’re real,” you mumbled. “I thought it was all in my head.”

“It’s not. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

You pulled your head back and saw makeup smudges on his white shirt. “I messed up your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you ready to head up to the room now?” he asked.

You nodded.

He helped you to your feet, and you both picked up your bags.

You reached out to grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked to the elevator. It was probably overstepping boundaries, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You desperately needed the physical connection after the past few hours.

He didn’t seem to mind, occasionally squeezing your hand as you headed up to the room. He used his free hand to unlock the door with the keycard and open it.

The room was actually a very nice suite with a seating area with a couch and two chairs and a television, and a king size bed on the other side. You immediately noticed that it was a single bed and wondered the reason behind the choice -- whether it was the familiarity of the single bed in The White Room, or if he was hoping to share it with you in other ways.

He squeezed your hand one final time and untangled your fingers from around his.

There was a mirror on the wall, and you saw the tracks your tears had make in your makeup. “I look like shit,” you commented. “Not exactly how I wanted to meet you.”

“You’re fine,” he said. “I’ll always think you’re pretty.”

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you.” You paused. “We should talk, but after I take a shower. I need to wash my face, and the air conditioner on the second bus stopped working.”

“Is everything alright?” he asked, concern crossing his face.

“Oh! Not in the bad ‘we should talk’ way. I promise it’s nothing bad,” you responded.

At least you hoped he didn’t take your feelings as something bad. He technically could, but the worst case scenario was probably that he’d be flattered, but not interested. Hopefully. Things might be different now that you were actually together in person.

For the umpteenth time over the course of the past day, you wondered what the fuck you were even doing. This whole thing was insane.

You dug through your bag for your hygiene kit and nightie and went into the bathroom. It had a freestanding tub with a separate walk-in shower that was large enough for at least a few people. You’d never seen a shower that big before.

You kept your shower as brief as possible, but still shaved for the second time in less than 24 hours, allowing yourself to be a little optimistic about how things would go. He did let you hold his hand. That was something.

Your sleepwear choice for the night was a short pink and black chemise that was mid-thigh length, with matching panties. In addition to your trip, it was your birthday present to yourself. You bought it with the sole intent of using it to entice Tom.

You combed through your damp hair and decided to let it air dry.

After double checking yourself in the mirror, you returned to the suite to find Tom watching the television in the sitting area.

“Hey,” he started before looking over at you, and then stopped after he saw you, obviously surprised.

“Hey.” You hoped you hadn’t gone too far with the nightie.

He’d already changed into his what he usually slept in -- some track pants and a clean t-shirt.

You sat down on the couch next to him, thigh brushing against the soft material of his pants. “We should talk now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“God, I don’t know where to start,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I guess I’ll start with the rest of the reason I’m stuck in Georgia now.”

“I figured there was more to it than your cousin, but I didn’t want to press,” he admitted.

“You know how people sometimes, uh, touch themselves?” you started, awkwardly.

He chuckled. “I do know that, yes.”

“I may have done that, and my mom came home early and caught me.”

“That’s an overreaction,” he commented.

“Well, that wasn’t completely it.” You gulped and quickly blurted out, “I might have been moaning your name, and she thought you were going to get me pregnant.”

You weren’t sure what reaction you expected, but him doubling over with laughter wasn’t it.

“Holy fucking shit,” he said, between fits of laughter. After he finally calmed down, he said, “I promise I will do my best not to get you pregnant.”

“I’m pretty sure no one can get pregnant in The White Room.”

“But we’re not in The White Room,” he pointed out.

“We’re not,” you agreed. “We’re also not doing anything that would get me pregnant.”

Silence stretched between you, before he finally broke it. “Would you like to be?”

“I didn’t think you…” you trailed off, heart pounding in your chest.

“That was actually what I wanted to talk about last night, before we were interrupted. Thought it might be easier there than here.”

“You’re the reason I’ve never dated anyone,” you confessed.

“I wondered.” His hand moved to rest on your bare thigh, warm against your skin. “You’re the reason my girlfriend broke up with me.”

“Did you tell her about The White Room?”

“No, but she could tell somebody else was on my mind. When I wouldn’t talk about it, she ended things with me.” He paused. “Honestly, it’s always been you for me.”

His thumb started to trace patterns into your skin absentmindedly. You could feel your panties getting damp between your legs.

“It’s always been you for me, too,” you agreed. “I was jealous I wasn’t your first kiss all those years ago.”

“But I’ll be yours,” he said. “Does that bother you?”

“No. You can wow me with all your practice,” you teased.

His hand slid up to the hem of your chemise. You couldn’t help but squirm a bit.

He smirked. “I’ll do my best. I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s alright.”

“Please,” you found yourself begging.

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