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literaila · 9 months ago

Text

new pups

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru brings home a couple of additions

warnings: satoru is annoying, reader is fed up with him, tsumiki is doing something (???), megumi is tired he needs a nap

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year three

“ladies,” satoru calls, slamming the door instead of shutting it, even though you've scolded him about it for five weeks straight. “i’ve returned.”

there’s the distinct sound of someone kicking the wall—probably just satoru throwing a bag by the door.

you set down the pen you're holding, sighing at the sound.

you used to live in a peaceful house, always clean, always calm, no boys to disrupt your wonderful lifestyle.

and now you live with three kids. you probably haven't had a single moment alone since you moved in.

and yet tsumiki looks up from the table, her eyes wide and waiting, and you watch fondly--glad that they're home.

megumi rounds the corner, rubbing his eyes. his hair is a mess--complete with leaves and mud--and his face looks like it was stretched out by a car tire. but tsumiki smiles at him, not bothered by his appearance. “i’m here too," he says, walking up to the table where you're helping tsumiki with her homework, looking distastefully at the worksheets the two of you have lost track of.

you smile at him.

“hey, kid,” you say, pulling him to kiss his forehead. he tastes like sweat. “how was your class?”

he shrugs, as telling as ever, then goes to the kitchen.

satoru is next, as untouched as he was before he left, not a hair out of place, leaving a loud smacking kiss on tsumiki’s head—who loves it—and one on your cheek— which is promptly wiped away.

“did you miss us?” he asks you, leaning against your shoulder with his entire body before you push him away. his blindfold is slipping from his face, and you snap it against his skin.

so he huffs and sits at the chair next to you, blindfold off, moving it even closer. seriously, he has never learned the meaning of personal space.

“we didn’t have time,” you tell him, kicking his leg as he sits down. “we’ve been working.”

he gives tsumiki a look. “blink twice if you need help.”

she opens her eyes wide, making him laugh. her tiny fingers tap against the table, and you can tell that she's about to beg you for another break--just to go check on her room, she'll swear, or grab a glass of water.

you've only been sitting there with her for an hour, but even you're feeling a bit restless at the math and reading comprehension worksheets you'd like to never see again.

“shoo, satoru," you tell him before he can say anything else,

"we’re almost done.”

“but i just got here!”

"you're going to disturb tsumiki. she's working hard."

"i can watch," he grins at the little girl, "can't i, miki?"

tsumiki looks between the two of you, nodding her head. "he's okay," she whispers to you, sweetly, and you pretend not to notice as the two of them share a wink and a smile, plotting against you, probably.

"sit and be quiet," you point at him, turning away.

"actually... could we take a break?" you frown at her, raising your brows. "there's not much left, and i promise i'll finish it all soon!" she pleads, taking satoru's signature sweet talking, "i just want to check on something real quick."

you sigh, looking at what she's got left over, and, for how long you've been working, it's not that much (plus you could probably use a break too). "okay, but--" tsumiki is up from the table before the words are out of your mouth, her smile radiant, and she runs away before you can get another word out.

you snort as she leaves, then look to your best friend, frowning at him. "that's your fault."

"i sat down," satoru deadpans.

"i know you're teaching them to slack off when i'm not around," you tell him, moving your chair at least three feet away. just to get away from his crushing aura.

satoru does not take this hint--nor any other one--and he moves with you like it'll physically kill him to be any further apart.

"does avoiding homework and playing candy crush count as slacking off?" he asks you.

"yes."

he nods thoughtfully. "oh, then yeah."

you groan, stacking all of the papers on the table. your shoulders bump into his as you do so, his hands on your thighs, creeping as they try to scare you away.

then they're gone, and he grins mischievously.

"don't worry, megumi wanted to show you something anyway," he whispers, and then looks down the hallway, where the boy disappeared a couple of minutes ago. "megumi!" he sings.

about thirty seconds later a scrunched-up body marches into the room, wearing pajamas already, dark circles that shouldn't exist for a nine-year-old under his eyes.

seriously, what did satoru do?

you nod at the boy and he looks quizzically at satoru, entirely bored and exhausted.

"well?" satoru asks after they've been staring at each other for ten seconds straight. "aren't you going to show her?"

megumi blinks, and usually, he'd probably argue at any request satoru made, but he looks too tired. he merely gives a half-hearted eye-roll, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

and then he turns towards you, looking briefly at the light above the table, rests one of his hands upon an open one, making an indiscernible shape.

and almost before you can see them--you feel it, that unmistakable current of cursed energy, but satoru doesn't flinch, so neither do you.

then there are two puppies at megumi's feet, barking excitedly beneath him.

the two of them may be trying to give you a heart attack.

you stare for a moment--watching as megumi pats both of their heads, then looks at you, like he didn't just bring home two new pets without even asking you.

or like he's not just nine, creating creatures out of thin air.

you blink. the white one sniffs around megumi's feet, moving over to satoru to inspect him while the other black one sits by megumi, happy to remain there.

"see!" satoru exclaims after he's had enough of the silence. he looks ridiculous bending down to pet the dog sniffing at his feet, who tries to nip at him in response.

"you--" you frown, tilting your head, watching closely as they might disappear. "you made those?"

"they're shikigami," satoru tells you, "aren't they cute?"

"you just learned how to do that?"

megumi nods.

you gape for a moment more--so many curious thoughts running through your head, attempting to scare you away from your little boy and whoever he's supposed to be--but you shut them out. then smile. "wow, megumi. that--wow."

his nose ruffles at you.

"and you can summon them at will?"

megumi frowns, but satoru nods.

"and release them?"

"he figured it out pretty quick," satoru says. "honestly, i was impressed."

you stand up, ruffling his hair. "good job, buddy," you say, with obvious pride.

how many parents can say that their child created two puppies and brought them home to them?

"they can't really do much."

"i told you that they'll grow with you," satoru says, rolling his eyes. "maybe they have laser eyes."

megumi frowns at him.

"hmm," you watch them, the white one sniffing at you now. "they are cute. who could fight these little guys?" you say, cooing at the puppy, who basks in your attention. "they might shock curses into submission if nothing else."

satoru laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you rise up again.

you give megumi a frown, watching his slow blinks. "you tired?"

he nods, not even bothering to deny it like he usually would.

"okay, go hang out. we'll get dinner ready."

megumi walks off, the two puppies following after him.

you brows furrow as you watch him go. "did you have to torture him to get him to summon them?"

satoru rolls his eyes. "i just talked to him until he figured it out."

"so, yes."

"actually, he didn't say much. just kind of sat by himself and thought for a bit."

"and you watched?"

satoru grins at you, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face.

"he looks like he's half dead."

he shrugs. "took a lot out of him. puppies are hard work."

he's recalling what you told him when he tried to get you all to go to the animal shelter a couple of weeks ago, you look at him pointedly. then away.

satoru grins at you, pulling his head back, then pauses. "what? you're not a dog person?"

"how much do you know about his technique?"

"not a lot," he answers, simply, "i know that he'll probably rival me for strength. when he's older."

"how are you going to teach him?"

satoru shrugs. he doesn't need to worry about any of this, you think. he doesn't need to fear a single thing.

and, really, he's always been a little too good for you. a little too strong for your soft demeanor, and easy heart.

you bite your lip, considering it. how fast will megumi grow now that he's figured out the basics of his shikigami? how much longer can you keep him here, tied down?

it only makes you wonder what satoru was like as a kid, who he might've been if he hadn't always been him.

"he's only nine," you whisper, soft, unbroken. it's not a confession or a worry. just the truth.

"you were nine."

"i was ten," you correct, appreciating satoru's strong arms against your body, his effortless hold on you.

he laughs, tilting his head at you. "i was born."

you roll your eyes, pushing him off. enough of his presence. "yeah, yeah, honored one, whatever."

he pulls you back, though, easy as ever. "it's normal," he reminds you. "he's got us. he'll be fine."

you sigh, hanging your head against his chest. "we don't know anything about his cursed technique."

satoru hums.

"we have to figure it out," you tell him like you haven't thought about it every day for the past year alone. like you'll be able to figure out anything.

"okay."

"do you think there are books on it at the library?" you ask him, thinking about yaga's lessons--which, in hindsight, you should've paid more attention to.

satoru frowns. "i'm not reading those."

"well, no one's going to tell you about it."

"you could. after you read the books," he grins, very pleased with this answer.

"you're helping because there's probably, like, twenty different ones all contradicting each other."

just the idea of the library is a tough one. who knows what information has been muddled over the years, or what you'll need to know for megumi, anyway?

no matter what, it's gonna take longer than a day to figure it out. probably a decade, at least.

"can't megumi just read them for himself?" satoru whines, shaking his head against yours at the same thought.

"satoru," you pinch his forearm.

he groans. "fine. fine. i'll talk to yaga next time i'm at the school."

"good boy."

"don't patronize me," he pouts.

"where did you learn that word?"

"i can read, you know."

"really? thought i was gonna have to teach you that too," you smile at him, pinching his rosy cheeks. he looks very pretty like this--always unchanging, unbothered.

"i was the best in my class, i'll have you know," he tells you like you weren't there to experience that same class.

"you mean laziest," you shake your head, stepping away, finally. "god knows why you turned out to be so strong."

he grins again, leaning towards you. close enough to breathe in. "it's part of my natural charm."

"great," your brows raise at him, "you and your charm can help me make dinner."

"do we have to?" he whines.

but satoru is very similar to your new puppies, in that as soon as you walk away, he follows, sniffing eagerly after you.

"so," satoru says, sitting too close to you on the couch. he yawns, body sprawled against the cushions.

you try to push his head away from your shoulder, but the effort is futile. he might as well glue it there. you wonder when he got the time to fill his brain with cement.

you sigh, and dog-ear your book, knowing that he's not going to shut up for at least ten minutes. "what?"

"i talked to yaga today."

"about the books?"

"among other things."

you flick his forehead. "did you get us in trouble again?" you ask, frowning. "i told you to stop spilling my secrets to anyone who asks--"

"it was an accident."

you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him. but your hand subconsciously wraps around his shoulders, squeezing where it can, and begins to trail through his hair.

after three years, you still haven't managed to get him to tell you anything about his conditioner. another reason why you hate him so much.

"what'd he say?" you ask, after satoru's eyes close at the feeling of your hands.

"he had an interesting idea."

"was it your idea?"

"no, not this time."

"okay..."

"well, you know how they're always running low on teachers at the school, especially now that yaga's principal?"

"uh-huh."

"and you know how we could use the help with training megumi, and that we're the best out there--"

"no, satoru."

"i didn't even say--"

"i'm not teaching."

"but you'd be so great at it," he smiles up at you, fluttering his eyelashes in an attempt to break you.

so you look away because you refuse to fall victim to his whims again.

"the missions are enough, i don't want to be responsible for anyone else but you and the kids."

"you know you do."

"i'm not doing it," you tell him, snatching your arm back to cross them across your chest.

"it's not even that big of a change," he argues, "just, like, a very extensive year-long training program for incoming teachers--"

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adoregojo · 6 months ago

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✘ unrequited love

summary: loves echoes through the darkness, yet there's no light to erase it.

↝ they like you, you don't seem to share the bits of it.

context: unrequited love, angst no comfort, !!gn reader!!, angst and also angst, mention of blood, character: isagi, bachira, nagi, rin.

Isagi.y

he felt his heart break a bit, didn't shatter. just a little crack that made him lose his breathing track for a second.

he has to take a step back from you, to 'comprehend’ it, and by that he means living his ordinary road, just with a new layer of wretchedness. He really tried going on his old ways, yet his attempts were futile. He wouldn't utter a tune on breakfast with his family, his friends would ask him why he stuck to the mud all of a sudden, he would woolgather like there was a castle in the sky, in class, in practice to the locker room.

he would walk back home, stare at the mirror, and surveyed his features. fingers crossed his face, did he perhaps not fit the standards? more importantly, your standards? he does realize that he wasn't that much of an eye candy, but he definitely wasn't an eyesore either. did he look too basic? he’ve always been told that by his teammates一yet you always told him that they're just jealous that they don't carry the most splendid, navy blue pairs of eyes around really一god, he really missed you.

he tried, he really did try to connect the puzzle, solve it to get the idea out of your mind. laying in bed with his hands behind his head, his ceiling seems to be the most interesting thing to ever exist. Was he not your ideal type? you always told him that as long as heart remains genial, it’d be good enough. did his heart come out as ruthless? well, it's not like his behavior on the field is helping.

it took him a good long days to get it, this was not a game he could fathom in a blink, this was you. he can't change what you think of him, he can't force you to see him as the almighty devotion defines that he sees you as, he can't make you love him, as much as he wishes and prays to. for once, this isn't something that his ego could grasp on, even for his sake.

he asks you to be friends again, if you were kind enough to agree, he'd be willing to get on his knees, thanking what you had left of sympathy for him. even if life never came back like it used to, as long as you're by his side, it's not the end of the world just yet.

isagi could just wish, you’d somehow discern a new corner in your heart that’ll behold as a sense of love for him, for what he had of selfishness clinging onto him, for what he had of undying love for you.

Bachira.m

he really, lived and witnessed the world ending through his eyes and mostly his heart.

to put it mildly, bachira have always been out of place. to other people, he didn't seem to reach out of his weird spot he somehow earned. you were nice though, the nicest person he had ever met, you were his special place, and the safest of all. his favorite flower and the references to cross his brush over the pearly white papers. and with all the cheesiest in the world一his universe.

it was an unyielding thing to not catch feelings for you, his ever first friend that didn't feel ashamed when hearing his name beside yours, till he found himself wanting more than just that title, for you to be his better half sounded like a paradise blessing pouring on him.

there would be dreams where he'd finally get to press his lips against yours, it's too good to be true, the warmth and the dizziness, the sweet flavor against his lips was making his mind melt to a pool, made him heat up like he was standing above a low steam stone, he wanted more, till he'd fell unconscious in your arms from the lack of air, never ever wanting it to come to an end, yet I'll eventually burn to ashes.

he never hated you, he could never. even when you uttered the words of rejection that came like a keen pain right up his chest. it hurts, more than any punch, kick or insult he'd receive. his wheel of life seemed to diminish, and his eyes began to water.

a part of him knew this was coming, even when you became something of him, there will always be a sound whispering how inadequate he'll remain, no matter how he tries.

but hey, it's bachira. the same guy that’ll always look at the brightest side. above all, it's still love, yeah? even if you didn't return it, he was grateful that he somehow got to experience it, to pick raw flowers from the backyard with the biggest, lovesick smile glued to his face. to wake up everyday just to see you again was enough reason to leap off the bed. he was glad to say he for once, had a crush, coating the fact that his feelings got smashed to a wall. he was glad to feel any sense of true love.

your existence alone in his world was the definition of bliss, maybe he was sad because he wasn't in yours.

after all, you loving him back was too good to be true. being your friend should be an honor itself, he’ll keep on telling that to himself, till he finds the right extinguisher for the fire you lit up his heart.

Nagi. S

“sei.. I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way.”

“oh.” it was light, a tune of realization. In an instant, his eyes are empty again, the world blends to a hue of gray he knows the most, and suddenly sinking into a dreamless slumber for a whole day sounded like a brilliant idea.

“okay.” that's it, that's all he had to say before he's.. him again. he was nagi again, not the seishirou that fell smitten and starstruck, the one you made with your bare hands, the better version一the happiest version of himself.

he doesn't get a grasp on why he felt nothing at that moment, but at the same time he felt everything一it almost felt like he had an organ failure, but also his heart rate draw at halt. it was hard to put it on words一but what he knew, he definitely never, ever wants to experience anything like that again.

for the longest time, nagi always lends to your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, it's been like this for the longest time. you and him, perhaps against the world一but really, it was more like you against the world while he immerse in your shadow.

he didn't mind. your light has always been overcasting. your smile was radiant, with your eyes aglow, he couldn't help but feel small. he was nothing against the brightest star to ablaze at him, and for the countless nights, he'd wondered一why him? nagi didn't exactly embrace the fact he was a slacker, he just tended to let it be this way, it was too much of a hassle to correct it一or maybe it was a truth that cannot be denied, who knows.

it was mostly his fault, for getting too used to you, for leaning on you like his own wheel of life. but he didn't want to let you go, it would be a pain一he was selfish after all.

nagi would slim down on your shoulder, he can feel your slightest tenseness. you were always comfortable, so comfortable that he could just be one with you.

“do you like me back yet?” he would ask, you say nothing. he’d inhale a soft sigh, snuggling onto you even more till his snowy locks kept on tickling the skin of your neck.

“that's okay, I'll stay here until you like me back.”

you again say nothing, but you’ll let him hold your hand, meshing your palms together. maybe he'll let go when his heart stops skipping a beat for you, or when the world comes to crumble, but they both end up with the same fate anyway, so it didn't really matter.

Rin.i

he knew he'll at some point regret this. wanting you of all people was a sin, a forbidden love.

despite his ears ringing, and his heart dropping to his core. he saw it coming, he would mutter that he'd be ready for it, just for it to sting like a sore thumb. it felt like he was collapsing on the ground with a pool of blood and tears, and all you’d do is watch with pity.

he felt bare, naked and exposed, he wanted to hide. he felt rejected and small. Suddenly he was fifteen again, pleading for his big brother to not leave him to rot in the cold, to not let the snow be the only source of comfort he had instead of a warm embrace.

for once, he had felt his heart swell with adoration一for a second, he didn't even have a name for that feeling, was was genuinely confident that you were making him somehow ill, there had to be a medical explanation for the mini heart attack he suffered from whenever he witnessed you at elation.

he allowed it to happen, he should've pushed you away more, he should've stood up his ground, he should've made more effort to strengthen his walls that you decayed with ease.

but what was there to wonder about the ‘what if's’ and the ‘maybe's’ yet again here he was, playing a secondary role in the ones he loved the most once again. digging his own grave stupidly.

for the first time in forever, he didn't feel like it was a challenge to love him, he didn't have to look at his reflection and grimace, he didn't have to be muddled by the name ‘itoshi sae’ this time, he was rin一your rin, was it bad that he wanted to live by that? it felt right to.

he knew he wasn't perfect, maybe even his flaws swamped over what he had of strengths. yet you seemed to admire him through it all, you looked at him like he was something一someone, he wanted to be that someone to you.

you managed to make everything look soft, feel warm. you stained his world with colors he thought he forgot the hues of it, he thinks he likes you a little too much.

for the longest time, rin was afraid he'll eat the life out of you, just like the maggots adore the flesh. seems like he was worried about nothing, because he’ll never be what he ought to be一yours.

you probably hate him, he did exclaimed hurtful things, he saw your eyes narrowing into a pained expression, it ached more than any rejection. he didn't know why, he was overwhelmed, angry and blinded by rage一and like the predictable itoshi he was. he revealed his cuspids and went for the throat.

he just wanted to hurt you back, that's what felt right at that moment. and yet as soon as he saw shedding tears running down your cheeks, satisfaction never came across, all he felt was a deep-seated regret. he felt ugly, sour and mean. and most of all, cruel.

and when rin sinks to his bed, he curls himself to a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. did his heart die already? or was he just too numb to feel anything at the moment? all he can sense is tiredness, so he closes his eyes to nothingness. where he dreams about you, with him in the summer breeze and cheap popsicles, and nothing bad happened to you and him.

sounds like a nice dream.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #isagi x reader #nagi x reader #rin x reader #bachira x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader

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tacticaldiary · 1 year ago

Note

I just recently found your blog and am in love with everything about it You are a very talented writer and I look forward to your post so I was wondering what you think it would be like sharing a bed with ghost

I Swear I Asked For Two

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; The Classic 'One-Bed' Trope

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in.

Masterlist

"Don't hurt me." Raises her hands in surrender, taking an exaggerated step away from him as the door to their room clicks shut behind them. "I swear I asked for two."

Ghost, bloody and dirty and exhausted, runs a hand down his balaclava-covered face, dropping his bag somewhere near the wall behind him. "Better than the floor." Is all he manages.

Once she's sure she's not in any mortal danger, she shoves back her bag next to him and kneels down, rifling through it. "Wash up first, L.T. I'll go after." There's no response but he must agree because he goes off wordlessly, a testament to how he must be just as exhausted as she was.

12 days. 12 days they had been trekking through this rural town trying to track down a target. The man had infiltrated their chain of command and had been feeding crucial information to the enemy for over a month, information that had led to quite a few of their operations being compromised. Needless to say, once he was found out he had ran in the middle of the night.

A slippery bastard.

Long stretches of land, a lot of camping out and surveying the area. Days and days of hunting this man until he was finally caught. Secured with the unit that had been traveling with them, they'd relinquished their target and been ordered to wait for exfil the next day.

Until then...well, this shady motel would have to do for the night.

They're lucky they were near a town and not in one of the long stretches between them, that much she's grateful for. Even if she didn't completely trust the room's ceiling to cave in while they were sleeping.

Stains on the walls she doesn't want to think about, cracks in the ceiling, and of course, the one queen sized bed pushed back to the far wall.

The bed.

Truthfully she doesn't know how she managed to keep her voice steady before. Her stomach was rolling at the thought of having to share a bed with him. With Ghost. With Simon.

He was...well, she thought he was extraordinary. Capable, brave, and funny in his own way. It hadn't taken long for her to develop some sort of a crush on him.

And now she was supposed to bunk down for a night with him? On that bed? Alone?

She shakes her head, focusing on rifling through her pack to find a spare set of clothes. They'd slept in worse conditions before, this was no big deal.

No big deal at all.

She curses as she finds her other pair of clothes filthy, mud staining the fabric. She'd forgotten about how she had to use them already after an unsavoury encounter with one of the locals.

"Something wrong?" She jumps at the deep voice, head snapping up to see him.

His hands are stripped of his gloves, his tactical vest off and away. A soft t-shirt takes its place, along with sweatpants that she has to make a conscious effort to tear her gaze away from.

This simply wasn't fair. It's like he's making this whole situation ten times harder for her on purpose.

"Negative." She says instead, standing up. "I'll have to make do with these clothes, forgot my spares were filthy." He studies her in that silent way for a beat, before he leans down and rummages through his pack.

Leaving him to do whatever, she pushes open the bathroom door while wondering how quickly her clothes would dry if she ran them under the tap-

"Here."

Ghost holds out a spare shirt to her. Plain black.

His.

"What?" It takes a second for her mind to catch up.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You're filthy. I'd rather not sleep next to someone who smells like shit."

The insult draws an indignant bark of a laugh from her, "I don't stink." She exclaims, snatching the shirt from his grip. "Not as bad as you do."

"Tell yourself that." He deadpans, but she swears she can see a hint of an amused smirk beneath his mask when she slams the door in his face.

Muttering to herself, she cleans up before slipping the shirt on. It's obviously large on her, just skimming the bottom of her thighs. It smells like him, something so distinct and familiar it makes her relax on instinct.

It's a wonder what good a hot shower can do for you.

Ghost is already stretched out on the mattress when she emerges from the room. He spares her a glance, and she visibly sees something like muted interest snap into his eyes even despite his lack of words.

She'd be lying if something in her doesn't preen at the way his eyes subtly follow her across the room.

Neither of them exchange a word as she slips into the covers next to him. Both of them barely fit on the mattress, but neither having the energy to complain. They don't brush against each other but if she shifted they'd definitely touch.

The room was secure, they'd done a thorough sweep and checked the doors and window, all the locks and for cameras. Nothing of interest, so they allowed themselves to let their guard down.

"Sharp 05:00 tomorrow, Sergeant." He says into the dark.

"Copy." She stifles a yawn and they fall into silence.

His heat is unbearable. She can't push the thought out of his mind, the knowledge that he's right there, a fingertip's distance away. She can hear his steady, quiet breath, almost taunting her.

Despite her exhaustion, she stays awake, turning onto her side away from him hoping that the movement would dislodge the thought from her mind. She needed sleep, needed to relax but isn't that impossible with how all she needs to do is lean back a little to touch him-

She huffs silently, turns onto her back again, rustling the sheets.

No, this was bad. Her body's tired but her mind and heart are racing. Traitors.

She shifts onto her side again-

"Fucking hell, will you stay still?" He rumbles, startling her. The gravelly, tired voice shoots straight to her head and if she were standing she's sure she'd have to grab onto something to stay upright.

She mumbles out an apology. "Can't sleep. Little chilly, isn't it?" She bluffs.

When he stays silent, she thinks he may have just accepted the answer. Letting out a shaky exhale, she turns again-

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in. Her body stiffens when she hears her own voice, and she's ready to spring up and apologise, tell him she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, ready to banish herself to sleep on the floor.

But then Ghost hums.

His hand starts to drift. She swallows as he traces a slow path down to where his shirt's hem is, toying with the fabric between his fingers.

Dream, this must be a dream-

He tugs her backward into him, into his warmth and his soothing scent and something about it has her going completely boneless. It felt...comforting. Felt nice to be held. Ghost takes to tracing small circles into her skin, soothing and repetitive. "Relax." He orders, albeit with less of a push.

A shiver runs down her spine as she feels his breath fan over the back of his neck. The bastard notices too, if for the way his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

There's no way Ghost doesn't feel her heart pounding against him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the dark that makes the both of them so bold, but she takes in a shaky breath and reaches for his hand, stilling it in place with her own. They stay like that for a moment, and suddenly the silence isn't as unbearable.

Eventually, her breathing evens out, her eyes become heavy and she finds the tension draining out of her. Nothing would happen to her here, she didn't have to worry about anything right now. Just sleep. Just sleep and the warmth that enveloped her, and why the hell was he so warm and why does she want more of it?

Right before she lets the lull of sleep pull her under, she mumbles a whisper of thanks to him.

She doesn't think she imagines the content sound he lets out in response.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(2/09/2023)

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fallen-goldfishcracker · 2 months ago

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Some assorted Wyll & Karlach Childhood Friends au thoughts

Baby Wyll and Karlach get along very well, but they do have their disagreements: Wyll wants to be a flaming fist when he grows up. karlach thinks the flaming fist are stupid (they are) and wants to be part of the Thieves Guild (she is not sneaky at all). Wyll secretly thinks being part of the Thieves Guild would also be cool but will not admit it. (stubborn)

When Karlach first tells her parents she's friend with a patriar's kid, they fully don't believe her. (That's nice, love). Until she brings a kid home for lunch with nice clothes and very good table manners, who introduces himself as Wyll (with a "y"!) Ravengard.

Karlach brings Wyll out one weekend to play some kind of football/kickball/community game, the Baldur's Gate equivalent of baseball for 50's America. All the tiefling kids have little hodgepodge padding wrapped around the tips of their horns so they don't poke anyone's eyes out. Karlach is pretty good at the game, though if she's not in the direction action she get's bored. Wyll is very enthusiastic- whether or not he's any good is up for debate. Every kid walks out covered in grass stains and mud. They get streetfood on the way back.

They both have very similar taste in make-believe games; they like to do great adventures and fight monsters and play bandits and soldiers and heros with sticks, ect. Wyll really really likes to reenact scenes from the adventure stories he's been reading; Karlach cannot sit through a chapter of a novel for the life of her and always goes off script when they reenact one. Wyll's one goal in life is to convince her off how cool adventure books are; Karlach loves letting him tell her about them, though.

Wyll and Karlach love to go exploring. They are menaces. Literally wandering through abandoned buildings and getting as far from the city as allowed looking for secret tunnels and underground lairs and adventure!

just wyll on karlach's shoulders so they can reach something on like. high up ledge. sneaking pie from a windowsill type of behavior.

wyll and karlach go fishing/looking for treasure in some shallower parts of the chionthar with a cobbled together net. and through shenanigans they absolutely fall in. it is the middle of Marpenoth (winter, essentially) and they have to run back to wyll's house with all they're little treasure's piled in their shirts. just shivering so bad. they climb up the side and go through the window to get to his bedroom. both of them are worried they're gonna get hypothermia and die (karlach is especially worried about wyll cuz she runs hotter). of course, they do not tell anyone what happened. but they get a bunch of blankets and lit the fire and like shiver next to it while looking over their trinkets. both of them remember hearing that when you get hypothermia people give you whiskey to warm you up, and they debate breaking into the spirits' cabinet to take some. (outcome: unknown). they put the wet clothes on the windowsill so that they dry, and weeks later the maid finds that the river water has ruined some of the detailing on the window and is very confused. Karlach does not fit into any of wyll's stuff so he sneaks into his father's room and steals some of his stuff. Karlach goes home like six hours later in very nice but incredibly baggy clothing.

They really do try their best, but the ravengard's house servant is so tired of them tracking mud into their townhouse. ulder makes him clean it up every time. but unfortunately it does still happen.

just wyll having lunch at karlach's. sprinting from his tutoring sessions in his nice shoes in order to make it. he makes food with karlach and her parents and is Very Helpful

ulder trying his best to be welcoming to karlach- even though he very much cannot talk to kids- mainly because he understands its good for wyll to finally have a friend. this does not stop him from being disappointed in their shenanigans. just karlach and wyll being sat down in two chairs in his office, covered in mud and leaves and scratched to hell, as he sighs deeply and goes, "what did we learn this time"

ulder taking wyll and karlach to the circus! they have a very fun time! ulder hates the circus but he Perseveres! they come home covered in chocolate and sick on like. 1400's deep fried twinkies.

#sorry this is really long #but there will be more coming >:)#this au has me in a chokehold #childhood friends au #wyllach #wyll ravengard #karlach cliffgate #wyll bg3 #karlach bg3 #the blade of frontiers #our fiery friend #wyll #karlach #wyll/karlach #tagging wyllach not because this au HAS to be wyllach (it is for me later on) but bc i think the wyllach people would enjoy this

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nobodylikety · 8 months ago

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Hey, I'm kinda back! First of all I want to apologize for the pending requests :( I had writer's block and recently I started another semester at Uni so I'm barely writing anything 🥹 But I hope this little something about Pup! Dani can make up for it </3

Puppy! Danielle x Fem! Owner! Reader, Hybrid AU, Fluff.

Although you've bought Danielle all kinds of toys —plastic bones, balls, strings, even a squeaky toy in the shape of a steak— as soon as you get out of bed, ready for breakfast, you discover two things: Dani is not here. Your left slipper is gone, too.

Oh, my.

Still groggy from drowsiness, and more asleep than awake, you make your way across the room only to discover the entirety of the picture. Four more shoes are missing, both left and right, and the toys —the ones Dani was so amused playing with last night— are scattered all over the floor.

This is Dani's idea, you think as you bend down and pick up the squeaky steak-shaped toy, the aussie puppy's favorite. Maybe you can distract her with that (when you find her) and thus retrieve your footwear, if they're not already buried in the yard. Hopefully not.

"Dani! Where did you go, sweet girl?"

No answer.

"Dani? Dani! Where are you?

The hybrid doesn't answer your call either, so you end up leaving your room, toy in hand. You walk slowly, so you can look around carefully, in case you find any sign of Danielle's presence.

You live in a pretty little house, in a nice, familiar neighborhood, with access to a large backyard, and it suddenly occurs to you that this very spot might be the one where the puppy could be, playing around. It occurs to you that because, first of all, Dani has rambled on about 100 times about how much she loves the backyard, and because second, but not least, there are freaking footprints all over the floor.

They're mud stains, with Danielle's footprints in them. And boy, must she have been going around, because the footprints follow different patterns; zig-zag, in circles, in a straight line. You lean a little, examining the tracks that are fresher, because the mud spread on the ground is still wet, and you follow that trail of footsteps to the sliding door that leads to the garden.

The door is slightly open and when you open it all the way to get out, the morning breeze blows against your face. Brr, it's cold, and you feel a shiver down your back as you walk down the two small steps leading to the courtyard. The light morning dew keeps the grass pleasantly damp (not wet), but it looks so untouched that it doesn't look like Dani has been around.

If anything, everything is the same: the perfectly mowed lawn, the plantings of gypsophila and chrysanthemums, the little wooden bench where you sit to watch the sunset. Nothing is different...until, as you walk along, you notice small mounds of dirt and uprooted grass in one corner. Ding ding, there she is.

You follow that trail and, as you get closer, the pile of dirt and grass gets bigger, uncovering a shoe half-buried in a hole, and beyond that, the person responsible for said occurrence. Because of course, Dani not only leaves a trail of mayhem wherever she goes, but she's innocent (and dumb, in Haerin's words) enough to stay at the scene of the crime.

"Dani!" you call to her, approaching quickly. She's squatting, digging with both hands another hole to bury the lost slipper. She doesn't perk her ears up, doesn't seem to hear you, and keeps digging. "Danielle, for the love of all that is good what are you doing?"

The Australian shepherd puppy twitch and perks up her ears, recognizing your voice. She turns and her tail starts wagging, unbothered by being full of dirt from head to toe, she lunges to hug you so tightly that the two of you fall.

"OWNER, OWNER, OWNER! I MISSED YOU SO, SO, SO, SO MUCH!" Danielle squeals and spins in circles, tail wagging. She's super excited to see you at last. From the hybrid shelter days that Dani has a habit of waking up early, so when she comes to your home she does the exact same thing, so during the hours when you were sleeping, she has really missed you.

That's a lot of alone time for the innocent, restless puppy.

"I missed you too, puppy" you respond with a gasp, because Danielle's weight (who isn't exactly feather-light) is half cutting off your air supply by repeatedly jumping on you.

"VERY MUCH, VERY MUCH?" yep, Danielle doesn't know how to speak softly. She has to scream. Or bark, for all intents and purposes.

"Uh-huh, very much."

"Owner sleeps a lot," Danielle whines, frowning and pouting. "I got bored. But because I missed you so much, I stole your shoes. It's just that I wanted to play, y'know? and now I want to play too! Will you play with me?"

So many "play" in one sentence, you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. You're going to do what the puppy wants...but in a moment. You need to catch your breath and be able to stand up.

"I'll play with you, but let me get up..."

But Dani, excited to know that you will play with her, doesn't listen to you. She jumps, spins, runs, and countless times manages to knock you down again and again. You are already tied as to who is dirtier for the dirt.

"PLAY, PLAY, PLAY, PLAY!"

"DANIELLE, I CAN'T GET UP!" you say, before another shove sends you flying. It's surprisingly strong. "Okay, that's it. I'm dead. Not moving from here."

If you'd said that to Hanni (which is like the most well-behaved), she'd probably drop her antics aside. But it's Danielle, aka 'I take things literally'.

"DON'T DIE, OWNER, YOU GOTTA PLAY WITH ME!" Danielle and her dirt-filled hands clamp down on your shoulders, whipping you around like a rag doll.

"Y'know, I thought you were going to say 'don't die, but because you love me."

"That too, BUT YOU HAVE TO PLAY WITH ME! I WILL DIE OF BOREDOM IF YOU DON'T PLAY WITH ME! so you play with me, or I'll bury all your shoes."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Um, no?"

"Uh-huh, I'll pretend to believe you." you shake your head, with some exasperation. Danielle relents and pulls away a little, just enough so she can do her little puppy eyes in an 'I didn't do it' kind of way.

God, this bratty puppy.

"So, yeah? we play?" insists the puppy, crawling towards you. She has dirt on her knees, dirt on her hands, and even leaves in her hair (and probably smells pretty nasty), but somehow inexplicably you strike her as the most precious living thing.

"Hey, sweet girl, let's make a deal. Yeah?" you get down on your knees, facing Dani, looking at her very lovingly. Even when Danielle does that kind of shenanigans on a constant, almost daily basis, it's like physically impossible to get mad at her.

If it's possible, you even love her even more. Her innocence, her energy, the transparency with which she expresses her feelings, are too much for your heart to handle. "first you're going to bathe, i'll put you in clean clothes, and then we can play. sometimes the dirt has bugs that can bite you or hurt you, and i don't want that for you. i promised you i'd take care of you, remember? that's why it's important to be clean, without dirt."

Dani nods, looking at you with those big eyes she gets whenever you talk to her. Her puppy dog look is a true reflection of the purity she possesses, and in turn, the undisguised affection in her eyes. She admires and loves you, and you reciprocate such feelings.

"You see? you're a good girl, Dani. Very good girl, and I love you so much" not caring that you are both full of dirt, completely obviating the fact of getting dirty, you clasp the puppy in a warm embrace.

"I love you too, owner."

"Now...who wants a bath then play?" you ask with a playful little smile, kissing Dani's head, her plush little ears, then down her forehead, nose and cheeks. Dani stifles a bark of happiness, as she wiggles in your arms, before letting go and darting off into the house, screaming in a baton, "BATH-BATH-BATH!"

God, you adore her so much.

After Danielle enters the house like a bullet, you stare at her for a moment, smiling without realizing it, your heart overflowing with joy and love. That puppy, who in a daily dose fills your yard with holes and buries your shoes, has brought into your life the most wonderful, unfading happiness.

Life with Dani feels like a vast ocean of possibilities that opens in front your eyes; new adventures, the almost certainty that nothing is impossible, and in general everything that you could live together with Danielle, because next to her, you can be sure that everything will be fine.

That everything is limitless, just like the sky, as long as you have each other.

#hybrid!au #kpop hybrid au #new jeans x reader #new jeans imagines #hybrid!newjeans #puppy!danielle #new jeans danielle #danielle x reader

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discordiansamba · 26 days ago

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werewolf zuko getting used to life in the royal palace again. the palace servants getting used to their prince being a werewolf. they learn very quickly to not touch the wolf pelt. the prince snarled at a servant unfortunate enough to try (and then very awkwardly apologized for it). yes he will be wearing it. yes. over the royal armor.

being back home again is a strange experience for zuko. it really brings home all the ways he's changed- some because of his experiences learning about the world outside the fire nation. but also because uh. well. he's a werewolf now. he used to be fine getting pampered by the servants, but now their constant proximity is just grating. the courtiers with their fake smiles are grating.

guy who will. when it gets too much, just turn into a wolf on the spot and go fuck off somewhere. the first few times it happens, everyone just freaks out. fire lord iroh! prince zuko has been transformed into a wolf! and iroh is just like. oh yes. he does that sometimes. leave him be, he will come back on his own eventually.

prince zuko can hear you talking about him from way farther away than you think he can. he'll ignore that. but if he hears you talking about his friends, he will make his presence very known. badmouth his uncle? you might as well just pack your bags. he has to suffer the worst torment known to man made worse (the courtier he is speaking to is wearing way too much perfume). uncle. can we ban perfumes from the palace. please.

toph is just. always around. she's a fixture at the palace. she and zuko still very much view each other as siblings. she always manages to prove that zuko is still only human on a surface level- they'll playfully growl and snap at each other. there's two wolves wrestling in the courtyard. one of them is the crown prince.

the servants find mud tracked all over the floor. they lead back to the crown prince's room. zuko and toph have just passed out on his bed. they're absolutely filthy. what in agni's name were they even doing. those footprints are all human. toph's pelt is starting to smell. the palace servants have to corner an entire fucking wolf to give her a bath.

(they do get paid enough for this, actually)

#atla werewolf au #iroh increasing the salary of the palace servants #partly because ozai was not paying them enough. and partly. well.#(looks at his nephew and toph)#he is a realistic man

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ryrywrites · 1 year ago

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𝕺𝖈𝖙. 16. Hair Pulling - Sam Winchester

mdni divider cred: @cafekitsune

pair: Sam Winchester x hunter!fem!reader

description: Sam and Y/N have been at each other's throats since they met. After their most recent hunt, they're finally back at the motel but Sam's locked out of his room and Dean's out with the only key. They decide to be mature and stay in Y/N's room until Dean gets back.

warnings: 18+ mdni, rough hair pulling, slight choking, facefucking, slight dubcon, oral (m & f receiving), softish!dom!Sam, sub!reader, lil rough, pretty angsty, fluffy near the end, enemies to lovers, little bit of forced proximity, lemme know if I missed anything

WC: 3.4k (this is my first post, I'm so sorry y'all 😞)

A/N: if you've read my rules or requests, you'll know I use Y/N for your character's name but I'll be using you, your, you're . if you wanna request a one-shot or drabble, my inbox is always open. this is set around episodes 5-6, season 5. Enjoy, my lovelies! ❤️

kinktober masterlist × main masterlist

"Wipe your feet," he was tracking mud all over the carpet. "Where?" Sam countered with the same level of distaste and annoyance Y/N held in her tone. She scanned the room for a mat but remembered she was staying in a filthy one-bed motel room. "Just take them off." Sam sharply exhaled, sitting in the rustic (gaudy) yellow recliner and fumbling with his laces. He dropped the gunk-filled boots with a huff and rubbed his eyes. The rain started off peacefully but as soon as she and Sam got out of the impala, they were welcomed by a cold wind and raindrops coming down like bullets. Dean had insisted that this was the perfect weather for a six-pack and a burger so he headed out to find a dive bar that served both. He claimed he'd bring them back some burgers but the likelihood of him remembering what they wanted was little to none so they found contentment in the mini bar and turkey sandwiches.

Y/N had never preferred the younger Winchester brother in any way besides his good looks. Sam only tolerated her attitude because Dean trusted her (and because he secretly enjoyed her company). There was always a snarky remark, he was never bored with her around. Y/N, on the other hand, found his determination to irritate her whenever possible, exhausting. She often chose to overlook his aggravating side because she liked him. She appreciated his witty, sarcastic humor and the way they could come together to save lives. She admired the loyalty and love he had for his brother and the gold in his eyes. She had never seen eyes like his, she caught herself staring at him constantly. He was, though she wouldn't admit it, beautiful. Sam shared this attraction, despite their animosity towards each other. He found himself captivated by the groves on her hands, her lips, her laugh. He found her charming and so infuriating.

When they got to their rooms, Sam realized Dean had the only key to the room. He considered breaking into the room with his lock-picking set but Y/N knew she'd feel guilty about leaving him out in the rain. They were partners or, at the very least, co-workers. So, she invited him in and locked the door behind him. She grabbed two towels off the small rusted rack, tossing one at Sam's head and drying her hair with the other. He laughed dryly and wiped his face. "So," she started. "You good?" He quirked a brow at her, "What do you mean?" She looked at him for a second too long and quickly focused on drying her hair. "Since the...everything? Are you okay?" She tried not to seem too concerned, the last thing she wanted was Sam Winchester thinking...she cared? She knew she wanted one thing right then; to be there for him. Even if that meant breaking down some of their walls.

Sam knew exactly what she meant. It had been weeks since they'd last had a real conversation, since he and Dean had separated. When it came down to Sam leaving, he wasn't surprised when Y/N told him she was staying with Dean but it still stung. He was trying to redeem himself but it was obvious his guilt was eating him up inside. He had lost her trust, not completely, but mostly. When he chose Ruby over her and Dean, it felt like a betrayal. They had been working together since John had gone missing back in '05 and he still abandoned her and his own brother. Y/N had never been the type of person to judge someone based off of their mistakes but...Sam was different. If their relationship was rocky before, it was on eggshells now. She expected more from him, set him apart from his brother. Sam was someone she considered reliable but now...it would be harder to get it back to the way it was. But Sam didn't want it to go back to them bickering daily, stolen looks, the tension, those little touches they both missed. He wanted something...just something.

"I haven't seen Lucifer since that night in the motel, if that's what you're asking." It wasn't. She wanted to know he was okay, all of the bullshit they were in aside. She was convincing herself he could still do this, that he could still be the man she knew he was. "What about the nightmares?" She squeezed her eyes shut at the bluntness of the question, wishing she had self-control. "I mean," he rubbed his eyes, thinking before he spoke. He understood she was trying to help, he just felt so undeserving of her understanding. What had he'd been to her in the last couple of months? "Better." He lied. She knew the second he cleared his throat before he answered. That was his tell, she knew. And he could tell she didn't believe him. Y/N grabbed a shirt she had stolen from Sam months ago and tossed it his way, "You can change into that. Here, Dean's." She tossed Dean's sweats. "You're gonna get sick, sitting in those wets clothes." He got the hint to change and headed to the bathroom, half-heartedly swinging the door semi-shut. She crossed the room to grab his soaked towel and hang it up when she caught a glimpse into the dimly-lit bathroom.

She had seen Sam shirtless before, same as Dean. When you live around someone long enough, you see a load of things you wish you hadn't. This was not one of those times. To say he was built would be an understatement. He had the physique of a Greek god and his hands, they were three-times the size of her own. His fingers were slender and long and his hair fell perfectly, still wet, over his eyes. She felt creepy after a second of staring and just when she thought it was time to look away, they made eye contact in the mirror. Y/N panicked, trying to rush away from the bathroom as quickly and casually as she could manage in the moment. She was standing over her folded clothes, pretending to look for something to change into herself when she heard the bathroom door creak open. She didn't make eye contact, she tried to forget what had just happened by becoming more and more interested in finding adequate pajamas. She had given her only pair of sweats to Sam so the only option she was left with was a large shirt (another she had stolen from Sam) that stopped about halfway down her thighs. The rest of her clothes were in the trunk of the impala so this was the best she had.

Sam, being the flustered dorky gentleman he was, tried to make her feel as comfortable as possible by standing as far away from the bathroom, where she was changing, as possible. This made her feel a thousand times worse about peeping on him. "Fucking weirdo." She mumbled quietly to herself. When she got out of the bathroom, she felt dirty for looking at him the way she did. And even worse for continuing to stare at him while he attempted to set his clothes out to dry properly. It irked her that he was so oblivious to hanging clothes out to dry (but what really irked her was the way his back muscles flexed as he did the most simple of tasks). She nudged him to move over so she could do it for him. He watched her intently, admiring how delicate she was being with his tattered clothes. So, as their clothes slowly dried, Y/N asked Sam if he would grab her some M&Ms from the machine outside. The second he was gone, her thighs instinctively rubbed together. The tension was unbearable, she was so pent-up. It had been months since she got laid and even then, it was so bad. The guy was lame and the sex was lamer, that's what she gets for sleeping with some bartender while tipsy.

Sam came back into the room and this made Y/N jump a little bit. He eyed this and seemed convinced she had to be guilty of something to jump like that all of sudden when he came back in the room. "What's wrong?" He questioned her, closing the door with his foot. "Nothing," she tried looking unsuspecting but the whole deer-in-headlights thing didn't work on him. He brushed it off as him overthinking but his suspicions were correct. She was guilty of something. She couldn't focus on anything, not when Sam turned on the TV and settled on Family Feud. She could only shake her leg mindlessly and chew her bottom lip, fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt and staring at him. She was disgusting, this was someone she had known for years, since they were children, but she couldn't control her thoughts. Now, all she could think about, was his lips. Everywhere. On hers, on her neck, kissing in-between her thighs. She munched her M&Ms and tried to distract herself with the game show but found it impossible to think of anything but his hands gripped her hips for dear life- "Hey, you feeling okay? No stimulating conversation tonight?"

She knew he was expecting a chuckle or at least a smile but when he said 'stimulating,' all she wanted was to rip their clothes off and be shoved face first into a pillow. She scrunched up her nose and rubbed her neck, "Since when do you find our conversations interesting?" He shook his head in protest. "Didn't say interesting. Stimulating." He corrected. Any other night, this would've sparked a heated debate on whether or not 'stimulating' and 'interesting' could mean the same thing in this situation but she didn't have the mental capacity for anything but dirty fantasies involving a certain hunter and his pretty eyes. He, again, waited for a smart-ass retort but got nothing. "Tough crowd." He accepted defeat and pretended to focus on the show. Really, he was paying attention to Y/N's every movement. She was nervous, anxious...excited? Almost like she was in her own little world. Sam looked through the channels to see what was on, hoping to find a good movie. He stopped at one he didn't really care too much for but knew Y/N liked it. Prom Queen, with Jamie Lee Curtis.

At this point, she didn't give a fuck about the movie they watched. All she wanted was him, all over her. Sam knew something was off but ignored the building tension. Y/N sat up against the bed's headboard and picked at her nails, willing this frustration to go away. Sam scooted to sit next to her, accidentally grazing her thigh. He went on to talk about how Prom Queen was one of Jamie Lee's lesser horror films and how he preferred Terror Train. She would've called him crazy if she thought she could without her voice cracking. Her anxiety was through the roof and his leg was resting against hers. She wanted to hear him groaning in her ear, she wanted to feel him bite her, she needed him. "You're wrong. Jamie Lee's performance in Prom Queen completely outranks Terror Train. There's no comparison." She looked over at him, her head resting against the metal bars of the headboard. She was staring again but this time, she didn't stop herself. She wanted to see what he'd do, she wanted him to see how much she cared. He finally turned to look at her, meeting her eyes. Y/N's pupils were blown out and she felt like she was ready to explode.

Sam quickly looked down at her lips and up to her eyes. She hesitated for a split second, gathering the courage, and slamming her lips onto his, she was chasing a release. He placed both hands on her face, gentle as he could be. He didn't want to hurt her or be too rough, he didn't want the kiss to end. The kiss started slowly and quickly progressed into a full makeout. He pulled her deeper into the kiss by her neck, controlling the pace of the kiss. His hands explored her exposed skin and he caught himself completely enchanted by her taste. He traveled down to her neck and kissed every sensitive spot he could find. He nibbled and licked, making her squirm and grab at the back of his shirt. His fingertips brushed the soft skin of her thighs, never ceasing his bites. Y/N was a mess, horribly vulnerable. It all felt like heaven, so passionate and intense. She couldn't believe she was letting this happen. She was letting Sam Winchester grapple at her thighs. She hated how well he knew her body, never having felt so intensely attracted to someone. How could he resist her for so long? He was grinding so subtly, he guided her legs open to gain better access. "Fuck, Sam." Y/N was whispering his name like it was a prayer.

His fingers dipped between her thighs, tenderly rubbing her sensitive clit through her panties. Her mouth fell open in praises, "Please, Sam. Oh my-baby. So good, yes, baby." Slurring her words and knowing there was no turning around from here, she gripped his hair and clenched around nothing. This was torture, he was so gentle and loving and considerate, but she wanted a different side. She wanted the Sam that called her insatiable, she wanted Sam take her, she needed Sam to mean it. She tugged slightly on his hair, he let out a muffled groan that felt almost like a growl against my neck. In a haze, Y/N moaned out his name in a way that drove him absolutely insane. The next thing she knew, he was kissing down her chest. He lifted the night shirt above her thighs and kissed down her stomach. He didn't want to miss a square inch of skin, he was greedy and wanted every detail of her satiny skin to be his. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to steady her breath. All those hunts, all those late nights, through storms and scorching heat, she never would've guessed this would be happening. Her father always told her, 'don't get involved with other hunters, they're not long for this world.' But Y/N couldn't think that way, not anymore.

Not while his head was slowly tracing its way to the place she needed him most. Every look, every touch had led up to this moment. Sam knew that in the morning, she may want him gone and never want to speak to him again. But for that night, he would give her everything under the moon. He halted his pace and looked her in the eye, "May I?" Y/N's jaw dropped at the image in front of her. Sam Winchester, his calloused rough hands massaging her legs, his hair tousled. He looked like he needed her more than she needed him. "Please," she quietly begged. A switch flipped in Sam, he was taken over by a hunger; the need to make her feel him. He dove into her clothed clit with this hunger. He licked the fabric separating his tongue from her core, this sudden warmth sent Y/N into overdrive. Her senses were heightened, she could taste how badly she needed more. He pulled her black panties to the side and plunged his hot tongue into her cunt, sucking and pinching her clit. Her eyes opened to catch a glimpse at the pleasure he was awarding her.

His eyes were completely fucked out, he was already staring at her. Her legs were placed on his shoulders to allow him deeper access. He gave her a look and she didn't know what it meant until he had slipped a finger inside her sopping wet cunt. His fingers were so long, so much thicker than she expected. A second later, he inserted another long finger and began to curl them. He was deliberately hitting her g-spot relentlessly and licking her clit in rhythm. The room was filled with the filthy sounds of squelching and moaning. "You okay, hon?" He had a shit-eating grin on his face. "Shut up, dick." He smiled condescendingly and sat up. Instinctively, Y/N shut her legs and sat up right, trying to cover herself back up. Sam watched her squirm and realized just how much he loved this newfound power she had over him. His fingers gone from her sore cunt, she felt an emptiness. She wanted more, she felt so helpless. She could feel the hold he had on her. But then came the overthinking, why was he suddenly so interested? He didn't know what the fuck he wanted. She scoffed at her behavior, how could she be so immature? She got out of the bed and rubbed her temples. Sam was surprised and concerned, did he do something wrong?

"Y/N, wait what's wrong?" He followed her off the bed, she turned around quickly and put her hand out to stop him. She could feel the heat radiating off his chest, she wanted to ignore her doubts and jump into his arms but she knew this wasn't right. "Sam, I'm not...God." He was confused for a second but understood what she meant. "Woah, nothing else has to happen." "You need to know that this-" she pointed between them, "isn't just some small town hookup." she had worked dozens of cases with Sam and Dean and every time some small town fling came along, life went on for the boys but time stood still for the women they leave in their wake. Lisa, Dr. Roberts, Sara, Cassie... "If we cross this line, it has to be more than that. It has to be-" it was so obvious for so long, how did he not see? "I've broken every rule I've given myself," he sucked his bottom lip to keep himself from blurting out everything he was thinking. "I've wanted this for so long." She jumped into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sam quickly cupped her ass and attacked her neck. He slammed them up against a wall, he needed some sort of friction. Y/N noticed his desperate thrusts and decided he deserved a thank you.

She hopped down and fell to her knees, hating the feeling of the itchy carpet against her sensitive skin. Sam couldn't believe his eyes; Y/N, the intense, guarded hunter he'd known all those years, was gone. Wearing her smile and cat eyes was a completely different person. She wasn't looking at him with her usual uninviting glare, she looked...in love. Sam brought his hand down to run his thumb over her bottom lip. "So beautiful." She could feel her face burn red. She looped her finger into the band of his sweats and pulled them to his ankles. His pupils were blown so big, his eyes looked brown instead of their usual blue-green hazel. She slowly pulled down his briefs and watched in shock as his eager member sprang loose. The tip of his cock was red and she swore she could feel him pulsing in her hand. He was biting his lip so hard, he thought he might break skin. His hands traveled from her lips to her hair, yanking her head back to look up at him. She slowly stroked his thick, heavy cock. He tensed for a moment before relaxing in her petite hand. She brought his tip to her warm tongue and licked the slit, the unexpected pressure had him jerking her head back. He gave her a warning look, she kept her smug smile hidden as best she could.

Sam began to thrust the air in anticipation, she loved teasing him so gently. She couldn't resist; she licked a long stripe up his cock, from the base to the tip. He shuddered and gripped her hair so tightly, she knew she'd have to ask Dean if he could grab some aspirin on the way home. She decided to give him what he wanted, wrapping her lips around his member and bobbing her head. She started slowly, circling her tongue around his tip. He groaned and mumbled curses under his labored breath, "Aw fuck, just like that," he started thrusting at the same pace she was sucking. "You're so sweet, angel. So good." Y/N choked on his member, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sam let her up to breathe and just then, the door opened to a shocked and horrified Dean. Sam quickly tucked himself away and helped Y/N onto her feet. Dean placed the burgers on the bed and put his hands up in defeat. "I don't even-" He walked away in disbelief. "SICK!" He shouted down the hall, they flinched. She readjusted her shirt and stood bug-eyed. "I'm gonna-" Sam started, "Yup, nope, go." Y/N agreed. "Okay, I'll be back." He kissed her passionately and went after Dean. She huffed and grabbed one of the burgers, finishing Prom Queen and wondering how much Dean saw.

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charmwasjess · 8 months ago

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This unstable spring weather is reminding me of when I was a teenager, I had a massive, irrational phobia of tornadoes, despite growing up in an area with little to no chance of them. It was so bad that my mom took me to a psychologist because I'd do irrational things like hide in the bathtub instead of going to school if there was any chance of severe weather. It didn't help. Every time the sky got dark, I'd get that weird, frantic, achy-itchy feeling.

And then, one day, I'm sixteen, working my first job at a coffee shop and I get a panicked call from my boss. I look out the window and almost comically, like it showed up just for me, to make some point, there's this beautiful white tornado dancing right towards us. I remember thinking it looked like the skinny part of an hour glass. It's true what they say about them appearing to hold still when they're heading for you, so I got a very good look at it. The trees were bending flat to the ground and the double doors of the shop were getting sucked open. Me and the other teenaged employee crowded the kids (we were also an ice cream shop, there was a birthday going on) into the center room, and we sang "happy birthday" over and over again to drown out the sound of it hitting the building. We were okay, but it took off several adjacent roofs and smashed up cars in the parking lot.

This was a weird way to start loving tornadoes. (cut for weather geekery)

They are like dreams - for all the data, we know relatively little about why they happen. We can see their ingredients: moisture, atmospheric instability, wind sheer, but sometimes all those pieces are in place and a tornado won't form. In fact, most often, it doesn't. They're still rare. The language we use to talk about them endlessly fascinates me: they are born out of thunderstorms called super cells, which have a 'lifecycle.' One thunderstorm can birth a single tornado, or many that live and die along the greater lifespan of the thunderstorm. The way they multiply is fascinating, one tornado can be circled by wispy, smaller, satellite tornadoes, or more rarely, two full-sized tornadoes side by side, a pair of twins. A group of tornados is a "family."

They come in all shapes and sizes. Mine was a skinny rope funnel, and a relatively weak example - F1 on the scale. The 1925 Tri-State tornado, F5, the strongest on the scale, was the longest recorded tornado in history with a 219-mile track. Part of the danger of that storm was that nobody even realized it was a tornado until it was right on top of them because it was so huge: it was said to look like a red, boiling fog from horizon to horizon because it was rain-wrapped, and had sucked up a lot of red river mud. Water tornadoes and fire tornadoes are both a thing.

They behave inconsistently too. The El Reno tornado that killed the storm chaser and scientist Tim Samaras in 2013 is often personified as evil, a storm set out to kill storm chasers, because it seemed to behave with particular, intentional nastiness. In 30 seconds, it went from a small tornado to a 2.6 mile wedge. It's hard to even imagine the scale of something like that: someone observing from a safe distance miles away is suddenly inside the literal tornado within less than a minute. Most tornadoes move in a more or less straight trajectory - this one repeatedly changed directions. But this is just another example of how even when scientists know how tornadoes generally behave, we're still figuring them out.

Of course, all of this is not about overly romanticizing a phenomenon that kills a ton of people each year, a fact that is only going to get worse with climate change. And certainly research funding and money for early warning systems or national weather services being less prioritized in the politicization of climate change.

I still have tornado nightmares a lot. I had one last night, which is I guess why I'm still thinking about the shapes. It's always the same: I'm standing in a house, usually my childhood home, and there are families of tornadoes that go right past it, but never hit. I still think they're so interesting. And it's funny the way anxiety can turn into fascination under the right circumstances.

#tornadoes #weather nerding #sorry this isn't about count dooku I just wanted to gush about tornadoes for a minute #story time #charm stuff #tw tornado

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wishing-stones · 1 year ago

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Hewwo :3

I was reading R&R and S&M and A&E and I was noticing that Nightmare has reasonable but firm expectations about how people should act in public parts of the castle. In their own rooms it’s kindof whatever (like how Dust destroys his personal room when he has an LV attack but everyone helps with Dish Duty in the kitchen)

So in R&R and in your associated works, what’s the Public Spaces Dress Code? No shoes on the nice carpet? Torsos need to be covered at all times? I mean prior to Ren it’s just SkeleGuys so theoretically they could all run around shirtless without showing off anything untoward but I kindof get the feeling that Nightmare Has Standards so… what are your thoughts about the Head-Shoulders-Knees-&-Toes Dress Code while in the R&R castle?

This is absolutely hilarious.

Nightmare does expect a certain level of decorum if they're going to be in a place where they might be seen by others. (Him, specifically.)

I included a throwaway line about the quarantine bathroom, I think, in chapter 21. Dust was not allowed in the rest of the castle until he and his clothing weren't dripping mud everywhere, so that's one of the hardline rules; do not track mud, blood, muck, dust, or viscera anywhere in the castle, or you will be cleaning it up yourself.

Other "dress code" rules include: -Must have at least shorts on in public areas. No one gives a hoot if you're shirtless, but pelvises are... still kind of an intimate area, even if there's no magic present. -If your shoes are dirty, don't wear them on carpet, hallway runners included. The castle might largely clean itself, but it's not instantaneous. Nightmare likes to keep a tidy environment. -No hats at the dinner table. Hoods are fine, since Dust prefers to keep his up. (Killer... has some hats he occasionally wears. None of them are especially flattering except for the newsboy hat.) -Do not walk around in just your socks. The castle has loads of hardwood and tilework, so that's begging to slip and split your skull open. (Not to mention the unknown nature of monster society and socks being intimate.) -Wear reasonable clothing. Shorts are fine. If you're in some ridiculous getup (Killer specifically has a hot dog costume he pilfered from some surface world during Halloween, and Axe has one of those inflatable dino-riding costumes) and he catches you, what happens to you is your own fault.

There are other rules regarding what can and cannot be done in public spaces (doubly so when a human comes along) so doing anything... intimate somewhere that they might get walked in on is... a very dangerous game. (I either wrote or eluded to something happening on a couch, and Nightmare finding out about it and insisting that both parties clean the entire room top to bottom because they know better. Cannot for the life of me remember where I put it. I wanna say it involved Cross?)

He doesn't expect a lot of decorum from his gaggle of idiots, but he does expect them to be respectful of common areas and those who may also inhabit them.

#k answers #k headcanons #fic nonsense #r&r(r&r)#feat. nightmare

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jensenackleswifey · 1 year ago

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Don’t Ever Let Me Go

Supernatural Fic

Summary: While hunting a Crocotta, you discover someone is alive who should've died 10 years ago.

Notes: Blood, violence, gore, death, anxiety, angst (?), italics are thoughts about the past

"I think it's a Crocotta." Sam says from the seat next to me. "The phone calls from their loved ones before their deaths even though the victims’ families claim they didn’t... it’s the only obvious option."

Dean and I agree as Sam's phone rings.

"Agent Stiles."

I can hear a slight murmur over the phone, but I can't quite make out what is being said to Sam.

"Mhm... Yes, we'll be right there... Alright, thank you."

As soon as the beep of the disconnect is heard Sam announces that there has been another murder.

We all get in the Impala and head towards the latest crime scene to talk to the witness.

As we get there the body is getting wheeled into the coroners’ van and Dean stops it to check the deceased as Sam and I go up to the Sherriff

"Victims name is Lily Moonarch. She just dropped dead, same as the rest of them."

Sam replies, "Interesting. Any ideas yet?"

"Fourth victim and we're still stumped."

"You said there was a suspect?" I questioned as Dean rejoined the group.

"Yes, she was on the phone to the victim when she died." Dean and I shared a look, thinking back on what Sam had said back at out motel. "It's our only lead so we think she might have something to do with it."

"Okay well what's the suspects name, we'll head over first before you guys if that’s alright?" I ask at the same time as Sam appears at my side.

"Yes of course, her name is Phoebe Y/L/N"

Both Sam and Dean look at me wearily and I feel my stomach drop and my heart goes to my throat.

Sam is asking for her address, but my ears are ringing and everything seems muffled. I can barely breathe, and I can hardly feel Deans hand linked with mine, dragging me away back to the car.

Phoebe Y/L/N. Phoebe. Pheebs. My younger sister. My younger sister who died over 10 years ago when a demon killed my entire family while I was on a playdate. She was only 6 and I was 12.

"Mum! Dad! I'm home!" I yelled as I walked in through the large white door.

I heard no response, so I yelled out again but still, no one responded.

'Maybe they're asleep' I think to myself, so I walk up the stairs, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I see a bloody, red handprint smeared on the door of my parents’ bedroom.

"Mum?" I say anxiously awaiting her response.

I didn’t hear anything, so I push her door open very carefully. The scene before me is something no 12-year-old should see. Her parents dead on the bed in a pool of blood. A knife in her dad’s abdomen with his own hand wrapped around it. Her mothers throat slit. Blood splashed all over the room, the stench making me want to throw up. With tears streaming down my face I run out the bedroom and into my sister’s room, but I was too late to her as well. As I step in their room, a man is standing over her tiny bed with these hands around her neck, choking her. When the man looks over at me, he smirks, and slowly walks over to me, his eyes glowing red and he slams the door shut with just his mind.

"What are you doing here you sweet, sweet child?"

His smirk grows wider and so do my eyes as he continues making his way to me, but I can’t move. It's like I'm stuck in the mud, no matter how hard I try I just can’t move.

As I've accepted the fact that I can't go anywhere, that this is the end the door bursts open again, and a tall figure stands in the door, and I hear a shot.

"It's going to take a lot more than that to kill me, John." He drags out the man’s name, almost like he shouldn’t know what his name is but does anyway.

The man screams but no sound comes out, all that does come out is a long line of black smoke. The man- John, picks me up and runs outside and puts me in the car next to another boy who looks around my age and he runs back inside which I later found out was to double check that my family is in fact dead.

"Hi, I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam." Says the boy in the front seat.

"Y/N" I say through sobs.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N"

I jump up from the back of the same Impala I was in those 10 years ago.

Sam is looking over at me from the front seat and Dean is looking down at me on his lap with a worried look.

"We're 5 minutes away from Phoebes house."

I just look at him and give a late responded nod.

You can tell that the brothers are worried about me by the way they keep looking at me every couple of seconds.

When we pull up, I'm frozen in place, just like that night a decade ago but this time I have the help to pull me out of my trance. Dean puts his hand on my thigh.

"Y/N... Sam and I can do this on our own if you'd like? You can stay in here and-"

"No. I want to come. I need to see if it’s actually her." I interrupt.

"Okay."

We get out of the car, and I adjust my pants and suit jacket and wipe off the remaining mascara on my face and smile at the two brothers in front of me.

"Let's go."

As we're walking up the stairs in silence my mind is running wild with thoughts of what could happen. What is she's a vampire? What if it's someone else just with the same name? What if she doesn’t know who I am? I try to keep my heart rate normal and my breaths even but the longer we walk up these stairs the more worried thoughts are running through my mind.

When we get there both the boys give me a questioning look and I nod.

Sam knocks on the door, "FBI open up."

Phoebe opens the door.

"Is this about Lily?"

I stand there shocked, and Dean subtly holds my hand.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out. "Pheebs?"

She finally makes eye contact with me, confused.

"No-one has called me that in years."

Sam puts his hand on my shoulder as a warning to stop and slow it down.

"It’s me Phoebe. Its Y/N."

"That can't be possible. The real Y/N died 10 years ago.”

"We were told you died 10 years ago." Dean told her.

"How about you come inside."

We all go inside, and Phoebe makes us all a tea and I pretend to not notice the holy water she boils for the drinks, and I sit down on her grey sofa in between Sam and Dean.

We sit in a semi-awkward silence until Phoebe hands us our holy tea and waits for us to drink it before continuing the conversation.

When there is no reaction to the holy water, a look of relief washed over her face.

"How are you alive?" Dean asked, almost accusatory.

Phoebe looked taken aback as she answered "I don't know. Just one day I woke up in my childhood home, cops everywhere. They told me my whole family were killed and my sister was missing, presumed dead. I went into a foster home and as soon as I hit 18, I moved in with Lily."

"So you have no idea how you go bought back?" Sam asked, sounding more sympathetic than his older brother did.

"Maybe she never died to begin with?" Dean suggested.

"But she couldn't have. I watched her die and John went and confirmed that they were both dead." I still remember the feeling of watching my baby sister die and never getting answers for it. Why did it happen? Who did it? I'll never get those answers, but it doesn’t matter anymore because my little Phoebe is alive.

"What about Lily?" She said, tears returning to her eyes. "Is it something supernatural? Is that why you’re here?"

"We think so." Sam replied.

I zone everything out after that. Looking around her little apartment. Her cat and the detailed drawings on the walls, she always was a good drawer, and the pink accents in her decor, pink is still her favourite colour. Everything is so normal compared to what I was expecting. I think I was expecting her to be a lot like me. A hunter trying to find out what happened all those years ago but she somehow managed to not get involved in this life and hopefully we can keep it that way by not getting her too involved in this job.

"Thank you for your time, Phoebe, we should get going." Dean says, putting his hand back on my thigh.

Sam and Dean stand up as I sit still, watching Phoebe.

Dean holds his hand out to me, and I accept it, getting to my feet and giving Phoebe a tight-lipped smile, still holding Deans hand hard.

"If you notice anything else strange, don't hesitate to call us," Dean hands her his FBI card. "We will call you with any updates as well."

"Thank you, guys."

As we're all walking out the door, I feel a cold hand grab by arm, and I turn around.

"It's good to see you again." Phoebe says and she pulls me into a tight embrace as I drop Deans hand. "I wanted to give you my number, maybe we can try and get to know each other properly."

"Of course, I would love that Pheebs."

A single tear falls from her eyes as I hug her again, never wanting to let go.

This could have a part 2 possibly

#dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural fanfic #spn #supernatural angst #jensen ackles #supernatural #spn fanfic #fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #jensen ackles character

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snowbellewells · 1 year ago

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"Carolina Moon" update {Chapter Two}

Hello Friends! Here we are at last with the next chapter of my @cssns23 fic!! I sincerely never meant to keep everyone waiting so long; real life got really hectic there for a bit, and I had to focus on the job that pays the bills in the few hours that were left over! Anyway, I hope that you'll forgive me and enjoy this update. If it's any sort of consolation, it nearly doubles the length of the story so far...

Also, this story is now moving into M-rated territory. After talking with a few fandom friends and readers, this seems like the way to go to be on the safe side and let everyone know what they're reading upfront. I don't know that I find my love scenes half as spicy as others I've read, but there is one for sure in this chapter, and it will not be the last before all is said and done. I hope that doesn't turn anyone away from reading, but I would rather someone know before starting than be bothered by it after the fact.

**As always, thank you SO MUCH to @eastwesthomeisbest for this beautiful cover art to go along with the story, and to @xarandomdreamx for her thoughtful beta reading comments, suggestions, and encouragement.**

Can be read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Two: Secrets Beneath the Surface

By the time Killian got back home to the family home that afternoon, he could already hear their housekeeper Johanna scolding Ruby from the kitchen, as soon as he crossed the threshold. “Well, what else was you expectin’ Miss Sassy Britches, sashayin’ all over town the way you do? Didja think that would make you a lot of friends ‘mongst the other young ladies?”

Killian kicked off his shoes in the mud room, well aware that the older woman who had practically raised he and Ruby - more so than either of their parents had done - would turn on him next if he tracked up her clean floors. Making his way quietly along the well-worn path to the kitchen at the back of the house, he could practically hear his sister huff and sputter indignantly at Johanna’s rebuke and picture all too well the way she’d roll her eyes and pout, before grumpily going to Johanna’s side and taking up whatever chore the woman had no doubt bid her to help with before their little spat had begun.

It was a rhythm as old as Killian could remember, since almost the first afternoon Johanna Bishop had appeared in their kitchen - cooking, cleaning, puttering and tending to all the essential but seemingly unworthy, household chores his mother simply couldn’t be bothered with. If - as the Jones children had grown - those chores also came to include bandaging scraped knees, soothing hurt feelings, listening to whispered wishes, and cuddling and correcting where needed, well, that had fallen naturally under her purview as well. Even more so when the three children had become just two.

Stopping in the open doorway, Killian leaned against the jamb for a moment, trying to keep his chuckling to himself as he watched his tall, leggy sibling with brilliant red streaks running through her dark hair frowning in deep concentration next to the short, rather round Johanna, trying diligently to match the rosy-cheeked, twinkling-eyed matron’s deft and graceful speed at coring and slicing apples, and failing miserably. He must have made some involuntary noise, however, because both women looked up at him in surprise.

Johanna’s bright eyes smiled at him as her cheeks crinkled with the welcoming grin he could always look forward to, no matter how long he had been gone, whenever he returned. Ruby stuck her tongue out at him when he smirked at her efforts, arching an eyebrow as if to question what in the world she was trying to do.

“Oh? Think you can do better, do you?” she challenged, flipping a discarded peel his way, before Johanna hushed her, not about to have food flying on her watch, just before Mrs. Jones’ formal dinner was expected in the dining room; as formally as it had been expected every night for years.

They all quieted for a moment at that remembrance, none of them necessarily wanting to summon the lady of the house any sooner than necessary - though that feeling went unspoken. Johanna’s nimble fingers flew over her task, the knife flashing with ease, and Killian noticed that Ruby’s movements gained confidence as well the longer she worked at it.

Giving a bit of a playful bow in flirtatious chivalry, he greeted them with, “How can I help, Miss Johanna?” and his most charming grin.

“Oh Sugar,” she demurred, “you don’t need to do nothin’ but pull up a chair and tell me ‘bout your day. Things are almost ready in here.”

Pausing to put a hand on her hip, Ruby mock glared at him, before turning to the older woman in challenge. “And why are you always nagging me, and then turning around and acting just sweet as sugar to Killian? I suppose he’s your favorite now, too?”

Ruby’s question was largely put-on sass, that melted into an unconvinced, “Uh huh, sure,” when Johanna blithely assured her that “Sweetness is as sweetness does.” All the same, Killian could see the doubt underneath her churlishness, and the longing in his sister’s expression, not wanting this one person she depended on, no matter how much they snipe at each other, to dismiss her as everyone else did. Honestly, Killian thought to himself with a guilty pang, he had written her off and disregarded her many times himself over the years. He hadn’t done it to be cruel, more out of his own survival instincts and desire to avoid conflict. Where he had withdrawn into his own thoughts, focused on achieving goals, meeting the standards set for him, making up for what had been lost, even if he ran himself ragged in the attempt, Ruby had instead completely cut herself free from all boundaries and expectations, going wild, or at least appearing so to the untrained eye. The moment she had gotten the chance, she’d fled Storybrooke on the back of her boyfriend’s Harley - eloping and not returning to Storybrooke until she had seen her fill of everywhere else. She played at nonchalance - as if nothing bothered her or could even penetrate the perfectly painted-on armor their mother had taught her to apply so well long ago.

She hadn’t really been back home that long, but Killian found himself wanting to get to know Ruby all over again, to bridge the gap that had grown between them over the years while they each attempted to weather the hurt and neglect in their own ways. The simplest method for doing that seemed to be in joining the easy banter between Ruby and Johanna, so he waggled both eyebrows at her, both in playful challenge and as an annoyance to his ‘little’ sister, then he circled the island easily to pull Johanna into a side-hug and plant a smacking kiss on the older woman’s cheek before nettling Ruby with, “Hear that? I’m sweetness itself. Maybe you should try a little sweetness sometimes and see how far it gets you.”

Johanna’s softly weathered cheeks crinkled with well-worn laugh lines, even as she rolled her eyes and shooed him away - but not before he snatched a sugar and cinnamon-dusted slice of apple from the pie crust she was crimping, causing Ruby’s eyes to narrow at him further in playful indignation. “You just hush now with all that, Killian Jones,” their housekeeper scolded. “Your sister has more than enough sweetness to share when she takes the notion - you just don’t give her any more reasons to be sour.” And though the woman who had been with their family for as long as Killian could remember, imbuing their kitchen with a warmth and comfort that the rest of the pristine, stately old home notably lacked, was warning him with her words, she also winked at him slyly - letting him know that she was glad he’d joined their fun, and that she was still nettling Ruby a bit herself.

Shaking out her mane of dark hair with a dramatic flounce, and planting her red-lacquer nailed hands on her hips, Ruby fixed them both with a fiery look. “Just the two of you know, plenty of people find me a delight to be around. Maybe I should take myself off somewhere I’m appreciated.” Turning on her heel with all the precision and purpose of a high fashion runway model rather than the demure Southern debutante their mother had hoped for, she stalked toward the doorway which led from the kitchen back into the hall, only to turn around before she left with a retort on her tongue when Johanna called after her.

“You tell that nice Dr. Hunter hello for me, Ruby Jean. You should bring him round here for a nice, home cooked meal sometime. That sweet young man needs a little meat on his bones.”

“But - I didn’t - why do you think- ?” Ruby spluttered indignantly, never finishing any of the attempted comebacks and finally just snapping her mouth closed and shaking her head with vigorous agitation.

Killian would have been laughing at her plight if he hadn’t been so wide-eyed and flummoxed himself by their housekeeper’s words. Oh, he’d known alright that his best friend since grade school had been nursing a painfully awkward silent crush on his remaining sibling, pretty much since puberty. What he’d never realized or noticed as Ruby had chewed up and spit out a first husband and teased and strung along countless other men since, was that maybe she was aware of Graham’s feelings - possibly even returned them.

“And you,” she turned from squinting at Johanna as if sizing her up to point an accusing finger at Killian, “don’t just think you can come in here and take over the one room in this place where I can actually breathe, just because you’re the family’s perfect prince and entitled to whatever you want.”

Killian jerked back at the sharp edge to her voice until he looked for a moment at the tensed pain of her features behind the dangerously flashing brown eyes. She was hurting - aching, in fact - at the idea that her one ally in her own home might also turn to the heir, her big brother, as well.

He had always known she snapped and hissed partly out of pain; he felt it too. They all did. He missed Rose awfully - more than he would have ever imagined - but to have shared the womb with her? To have been joined with her from birth and then suddenly find her gone? He couldn’t imagine that. And maybe he hadn’t really wanted to see just how much turmoil hid beneath his sister’s vexing habit of picking fights and pretending he drove her crazy, or how much loneliness was painted over with her vivacious bombshell facade. At any rate, he didn’t pick an angle and fight back at her as he normally would have, instead he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, giving a slight dip of the chin and a tentative smile. “Aye, Ru… Well do I know you and Johanna are the undisputed queens of this domain. I only wanted to join you for a moment.”

She huffed as if not knowing quite what to make of his earnest admission, then with a shrug of her shoulders and one more toss of her head, she merely replied, “Whatever you say,” and was gone. But he hadn’t missed that small half smile tilting up one corner of her mouth, or the spark of hope in her eyes. Maybe they weren’t as far removed from each other as he had feared.

Johanna turned and tilted her head up to look at him knowingly before patting him on the cheek and affirming, “You’re a good boy, Killian. You always have been. And you’ve grown into a fine man. Just don’t you give up on that sassy sister of yours, you hear? She needs us more than she’d like to own. Much like Miss Emma, I’ll wager.”

Killian smiled at the older woman warmly before nodding in agreement and scoffing lightly at her uncanny prediction, knowing she had him there and he couldn’t even argue. “You’ve always seen a lot more than we realize, haven’t you?”

She was the one to wink knowingly at him this time. “You’d better believe it,” she retorted. “That’s part of my charm.”

Chuckling and shaking his head, Killian wasn’t about to challenge her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Not half an hour later, at Hunter Veterinary Clinic on the outskirts of town, Graham was closing up for the evening when he heard the bell on the door jangle, signaling someone’s arrival. He was puttering around in the back, making sure that the surgery was cleaned and sterilized for the following morning, and that the mother golden retriever and her unexpected litter of mixed breed pups he’d delivered in a tense, last minute c-section that afternoon were settled in the kennel area for the night, and he had been certain they (he and the dogs) were the only ones still there. He knew that Grace, his summer assistant while she was home from college, was normally careful to be sure the sign was off and the door closed and locked when she left, but maybe she’d forgotten something.

“I’m in back!” he called out distractedly, still running over his mental checklist of closing chores to accomplish as he awaited an answer. “But we’re closed for the evening. Is this an emergenc– “

The door from the waiting room and lobby swung open while he was still speaking, only to reveal a vision that made him choke on the end of his words and nearly swallow his own tongue as well. Graham knew he had flushed all over almost instantaneously at the sight before him, a sweat that was part embarrassment and part lustful attraction breaking out across his skin. His eyes were wide as he shook his head in stunned disbelief, drinking in the temptation of Ruby Jones posing seductively where she leaned against the doorframe and watched him knowingly.

When several silent moments had ticked by, the heat and tension in the room between them only climbing higher, Ruby finally quirked a dark, artfully sculpted brow and smirked at him, those full red lips glistening in a lure so effective Graham could think of nothing but grabbing her, pulling her close, and capturing them with his own until his need was sated. And she knew it too - she always had. Pushing off from the wall and slinking toward him purposefully on blood red kitten heels, she began to unknot the belt of the trench coat cinched at her waist as she fairly purred her response. “Well, you see, Doctor Hunter, it is an emergency. I’m burning up with fever - one only you can break.”

By then, she stood directly in front of him, where he had backed up against the stainless steel surgical table and was clenching and releasing his hands into tight fists, straining mightily to keep himself from grabbing her and clutching much too tightly. Ruby Jones was nothing if not untamed; a wild bird that ventured close, playfully allowing the observer to think he could hold her. But he knew she would flit off and leave him behind again if he made the wrong move. Instead, Graham watched her intently, muscle working in his jaw as her graceful fingers danced across his chest and shoulders, tracing over muscle and skin, inflaming him with her touch as she went. Tilting her head to one side, Ruby shamelessly licked her lip before grinning broadly. “What’s the matter, Hunter? Cat got your tongue?” She snorted at her own little joke. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Bringing her hands to the lapels of the coat she wore, now loosened and unbelted, Ruby parted the fabric on either side and allowed the garment to fall to the floor at their feet. Pleased amusement flooded her veins at Graham’s bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Completely bare beneath the thin jacket, she’d felt a thrill running through her since leaving the house in search of him, and the power sizzling along her nerve endings, where she usually felt as though she were careening out of control, was genuinely intoxicating.

Poor Graham couldn’t seem to move and managed only to hoarsely croak out, “Ruby, w-what are you…? Someone could… could walk in here and see… This is a place of business! You can’t just…” He swallowed hard, and her eyes tracked the reflexive movement of his Adam’s apple with ravenous intent.

“Are you sure about that, Doc?” she teased seductively, clicking the ‘c’ with her tongue exaggeratedly, despite his eyes already being glued to her lips - and every other part of her on display before him. Voice low and throaty, cajoling him to take what he very clearly wanted - what she wanted too - she added, “I’m pretty sure I can actually. I’m standing right here waiting. What are you going to do about it?”

His handsome face reflected his inner conflict for several long moments, and Ruby fought not to hold her breath in worried anticipation. She didn’t care that much if he accepted her offer, she tried to tell herself, but deep down she was well aware of how much of a lie that was. Brow furrowed, Graham struggled to resist her manfully, but it was a lost battle even before he began. He had never been able to deny her; they both knew it, and today would not be any different. At last, with a growl of mingled frustration and lust, he lurched forward, his dexterous, long-fingered hands gripped her hips and pulled them into his own roughly before practically devouring her mouth with an almost maddened groan of arousal.

Sinking into his clutches, Ruby thrilled at his loss of control, all synapses firing and the blood boiling in her arteries as he finally gave her exactly what she wanted. Clinging to his bicep to stay upright as her knees went weak, Ruby plunged her other hand into his hair, mussing the honey-coloured curls he’d never outgrown between her fingers and pulling them tightly in response to his ardent desire and how he was further igniting her own.

Desperate by then, Graham was long past caring who might have seen her walk in past closing, what small town rumors might get started, whether or not Ruby was simply using him again to have a little fun and forget the past that nipped at her heels, and how he knew it would chip away another small piece of his soul when they finished and she wouldn’t stay in his arms. Whirling to push her back against the exam table in the center of the room, earning him an enthusiastic moan from deep in Ruby’s throat, even muffled by his own lips over hers. Sweeping a hand over the cool, hard surface with reckless abandon, Graham cleared it to easily lift her onto the tabletop and soon had her spread out on it, frantically working to strip out of his lab coat and remove his shirt, even as her grasping hands fumbled for the button and zipper of of his pants to free him to her touch.

Writhing against him, Ruby grinned up at him wolfishly, her cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, every bit the goddess he’d never been able to deny a thing: the dessert from his sack lunch, the use of his first car, and every inch of his body and corner of his heart. She wrapped her long legs around his trim hips, demandingly pulling him closer still, before he thrust forward and finally sunk into her willing body, welcomed home once more.

Leaning over her as he moved, Graham captured her nipple between his teeth, his scruff abrading the sensitive skin around it as he did and stealing her breath when he bit down just at the edge of too much. He captured both her hands, twining their fingers together and pressing them to the steel surface on either side of her head. Setting the rhythm they both craved, feeling the rightness of what he had missed echoing through his body as they moved together, Graham forced himself to take the moment he had; enjoy it, love her enough so that she would feel it, despite refusing to see what they could have always, and not let himself think of what came after.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Killian had just left the kitchen, still contemplating his relationship with his sister and the things Johanna had told him, when he was brought up short by the regal, silent appearance of his mother, Cora Jones, the once-belle of Storybrooke, in the hall nearby, studying him with an icy assessment which made him feel distinctly like she had heard all they had said and could read his mind beside. Forcing himself not to startle or recoil physically like some teenager caught sneaking out past curfew (he had actually never been caught at that in his youth, though by the time he’d had a license and places to run, the dangers parents fear for their children at night had long since struck and the damage been done) Killian gave his mother a nod of respectful deference, smiling at her carefully and waited, knowing there must be something she intended to say.

Cora’s bearing was still poised and correct, standing straight enough to appear taller than her actual height, her chin tilted rather haughtily. Even in the comfort of her own home, before no one but her eldest child, her skirt and jacket ensemble was impeccably tailored and she had not a hair out of place, her makeup flawless. Her eyes had lost none of their shrewdness as she moved nearer to her golden years. And Killian couldn’t help wondering with a blend of bitter sadness if she would allow anything about them to be golden or fulfilling. His mother retained all of the clout and reputation she had held in her prime, but her sharp edges had only grown harder and more jagged with the loss of, first her favored child, and then her husband, to his own grief and poor choices.

He was right of course. A moment later Cora’s clear, measured voice reached his ears with unmistakable authority; as always, she meant what she said and expected to be obeyed. Though his mother had never been especially warm or effusive, Killian had always known she was pleased with him, proud that he was living up to the Jones family name as she saw fit. Things he really had no power or control over - his natural good looks, athleticism, intellect, and so on - were only to be expected, and so, when he excelled in school, made the papers and the Homecoming court, and earned a college scholarship, or when the other mothers in her social circle all enviously wanted their daughters to catch his eye, well then Killian was merely behaving as he ought and garnering just the sort of attention she had hoped he would. He had grown up following in his father’s footsteps, learning all he could about running their small shipping business and how to manage all that would one day be his.

Killian had never rebelled or railed against the expectations, the assumption that he would blindly follow along on the path laid out for him, until recently. He had made several changes to modernize and streamline the business - almost two years ago now - and things had been tense between he and his mother as a result. Cora did not welcome change in any arena, not unless it was on her orders, and though she deeply resented her husband’s gradual decline and eventual abandonment at his death, she did not see why Killian needed to upgrade what had always worked well for Brennan. She had gone as far as threatening to withdraw her shares from the operation until Killian’s changes had doubled - then tripled - their profits, word of mouth bringing in a steady stream of new clients and renewed raves from established ones at their company’s efficiency and success. There was no arguing with such hard evidence, and so Cora had grudgingly relented, but she had not forgotten.

However, even at a glance, Killian could see that the bone she meant to pick with him would not be resolved with patience and time. He gritted his teeth against offering a harsh warning for her to save her breath. He knew before she spoke a word what she wanted to discuss, but this time she would find him every bit as unyielding as she was herself.

Without further preamble, Cora leveled her accusation. “You’re renting that cabin on the marsh to her, aren’t you? Despite what she’s done, and knowing how it would displease me, you’ve let that Swan girl waltz right back into our lives and invited her to make herself at home. I simply cannot understand it, Killian.” Her words were clipped out distinctly, but as cold and pointed as chips of ice. “Do you not remember what associating with the likes of her cost your sister? Or are you looking for a reason to spite me? I hardly think I have done anything to merit such hurtful defiance.”

She waited, seeming to have all the time in the world for her son’s reply, but Killian was still tempted to stare back, challenging her silently, waiting to speak until he discovered whether the pristine veneer she presented to her family right along with the rest of the world would crack and show some human feeling underneath. In the end though, Killian couldn’t hold out forever; she was still his mother, and despite his frustration, the manners she had pressed into him from birth would not allow it. Not only that, but he knew what she had suffered, the pain and loss she had endured - just as he had. It might have made her brittle and untouchable, but he always had the hope somehow that things might thaw between them yet.

With a sigh, he released the answer on a low breath, still meeting her eyes to let her know both his resolve and that he was hardly ashamed of his choices. “You clearly already know that I am, Mother. Though you might not believe this, it was not a decision made to hurt anyone - least of all you. Emma Swan is moving back into town. She needed a place to stay, and ours was available to rent. Honestly, I was glad to have it, to do something to help her out after how horribly we treated her years ago.”

He meant every word, but, as he had expected, her eyes widened with indignance, her voice finally losing its polished control. “What we did to her?!” Cora Jones spluttered, clearly appalled and faintly trembling in her righteous anger. “It was she who took our sweet angel from us. If we had kept Rose away from her… If she hadn’t crept out to meet that vagabond child…. Rose would still be here!”

Killian had heard this argument many times, yet the unfairness of it never ceased to stoke his own temper. Fighting to remain calm, he tried to reason with his mother, to speak in a tone that still remained civil - tightly wound as it was and on the knife’s edge of tipping over. “You know as well as I do that Ms. Swan is not Rose’s killer. There was never any chance of that. She was thirteen years old, still a child just like Rose, and Rose was her only friend in the world. She was as devastated as we were.”

Cora could not have appeared any more injured or insulted if he had drawn back his hand to strike her. “No one has suffered as we have,” she hissed, eyes flashing dangerously, “certainly not that little she-devil! How dare you even suggest it?” She took a seething step closer, appearing as taken by emotion as Killian had seen her through the smooth, proper mask in years. “You mark my words, Killian,” she continued distinctly, eyes boring into him like pinpricks through his skin, “you may have control of this family’s land, the business, all the executive decisions your father left to you as intended, but I do not condone you allowing that woman to live on our property. Not even for a second, do you hear me? There is something not right about her - always has been - and you will live to regret letting her back into our world. Rose must be rolling over in her grave at the very thought - “

Flinching away so abruptly that his mother’s words were cut off and they both stood, breathing harshly in the horrible silence, Killian finally shook his head sadly and broke eye contact. He turned to leave, at last seeing with regrettable finality that Cora Jones would never change her mind, not for anyone or anything, no matter how much time passed. At the door, he looked back at her, his eyes betraying the strange mix of pity and bitterness she had stirred up in him anew. “You’re the one who should feel regret. Rose was good and kind, the best of us all. It would break her heart to know you’ve spent all these years holding a grudge and nurturing hatred against the person she considered another sister. I am finally thinking about what Rose would have wanted. Then maybe we can all let her rest in peace.”

That final admonition voiced, Killian was out the door in the next instant, letting it slam behind him exactly as he had been reprimanded against all his life. Even as one part of him cringed, he also felt a thrill of petty satisfaction too, knowing it made Cora crazy for such noisy outward shows of temper and bad breeding to be on display. Hurrying down the wide front steps to his truck, Killian gripped his keys in hand tightly, not at all sure where he was going, only that any place seemed preferable at that moment.

His cell went off, just as he reached the driver’s side door. Fishing it out as he settled into his seat, Killian pulled the door closed behind him and answered to find Graham on the other end of the line. Too relieved to turn his energy to something - anything - else but the argument he had left behind, Killian didn’t dwell long on why Graham sounded out of breath, cagey, and awkward as he explained how he had planned to meet Emma at the end of the work day, take her to dinner, and then go with her out to the cabin and help her make sure she at least had enough unpacking done to settle in there for the night. It turned out something had come up, and would Killian mind going to meet Emma instead?

While a part of him wasn’t at all sure how fond Emma would be of the development, he couldn’t deny the way his insides leapt at the opportunity to see Emma Swan again and spend some more time with her. Especially if it kept him away from the lit powder keg his home had just become.

“Not sure how Emma’s going to feel about that,” Killian quipped to his buddy lightly, “but I’ll do it. I’m heading her way right now.”

Graham’s relieved thanks made Killian smile as they said goodbye, wondering vaguely what had his friend all tangled up in knots, but he couldn’t dwell on it long. What almost felt like happy anticipation was creeping up on him, and whatever else might be pressing on him, Killian was simply glad to have an excuse to be near Emma Swan.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Some three hours later, Killian’s arms and back ached from lifting heavy boxes and moving them around to various counters and display tables for unpacking, his cheeks ached from grinning and laughing like he hadn’t done in ages, and he knew his eyes must look a bit dazed, mesmerized in Emma’s presence as she breathed some sort of magic into the air around her and onto him, bringing the previously empty and nondescript space to life. She didn’t seem to keep much of the warmth and humor for herself, however, Killian noted painfully, but it was easily felt standing next to her, and his fingers itched to grasp her, to pull her in and hold her tight, give back to her some of the warmth he had felt since he’d walked into her new little shop - particularly welcome after the chill of his encounters with his own family just before he’d arrived.

Thankfully, Emma hadn’t seemed averse to his visit and offer of help, to be followed by dinner in his friend’s stead. She was possibly a little hesitant and uncertain of why he wanted to help out and spend time with her, but it did his conscience good to see that she seemed willing to at least see how the evening went.

After the initial bit of awkwardness upon his arrival, Killian had assured Emma that she should put him to work. Once she had done so, they’d had their hands full and the conversation had begun to flow between them. She was incredibly knowledgeable - not that Killian was surprised, she had always been smart and eager to learn, one of many things she and Rose had shared in common - but he’d never been able to hear her really speak unabashedly about something she loved. Not only did she have an engaging and eclectic collection of art and photography by several known artists, but she also had numerous pieces of her own photography available for purchase as well. When Emma began talking about how she had captured some of the shots, and what she hoped they conveyed, Killian simply couldn’t look away from her features that had come to life with enthusiasm, her eyes alight. It was enchanting; he could think of no other word for it. His lips curved upward irresistibly, without his really even noticing it until she paused, cocking her head curiously before asking, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Startling from the reverie he’d slipped into on the rise and fall of her words, Killian smiled back at her, shaking his head slowly in amazement. “Just marveling at you, honestly. You’re brilliant, Emma.”

“Hardly,” she retorted, making a dismissive noise and waving off his praise, though the pleased blush on her cheeks unmistakably belied her words.

“No, truly… You’ve got a real gift.”

Emma shrugged noncommittally, but didn’t argue with him further, instead she merely studied the photograph on the countertop in front of her, matted but still in need of framing. A wry, wistful tone slipped into her voice as she spoke then, more quietly than she had before, “Well, that’s at least one instance when my added sight is a pleasant benefit.”

Killian’s eyes widened, his attention even more fully captured than it had been, curious as to what she might say next. Emma rarely - if ever - offered to comment on her visions and the things she knew because of them voluntarily. He bit his lip to keep from speaking, from verbally nudging her to continue. Instead he watched, waiting hopefully, breath held, for her to do so if she chose.

Looking up, Emma caught his eyes, but the soul-searching expression pierced right through his chest. “It’s as if the person or animal or place in front of the camera tells me the story it wants to share.” Shaking her head helplessly after that admission, she chuckled at herself before adding, “Yeah, I know that sounds completely crazy.”

“Not at all, Swan,” he breathes, the nickname sliding from his lips naturally and without thought, neither of them reacting to it - almost as if he had never called her anything else. “It’s just like I said… amazing.”

For several minutes, no more words were spoken, the quiet stretching comfortably between them as the shadows of evening lengthened outside the big front window. It was nearly seven-thirty, well past time for dinner, and they both laughed when his stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the spell between them. “What say you, Swan? Time to find some sustenance?”

Eyes glimmering with a mysterious sort of humor, she hedged, “Would you be willing to take a rain check? It’s been a packed couple of days, and I’m hoping to open in a couple more. I’m exhausted, and really just need to make it an early night.”

Considering her words for a moment, Killian studied her before acquiescing, hoping she wasn’t putting him off when it felt like they’d gotten so much closer over the course of the evening. “Fair enough,” he assented before playfully adding, “but I’ll hold you to that rain check. Unless you’re afraid of finding me even more irresistible after a few libations.” He waggled his heavy dark brows at her devilishly until Emma was laughing out loud at his antics.

Only a few minutes later they were ready to go, Emma locking the door of her shop behind them and Killian following her gallantly to her VW. Turning to look up at him where they stood facing each other on the sidewalk, Emma added, “I really would be glad to go to dinner another time, Killian. It’s been a nice evening, and - to be blunt - I could use a few friends. Just so we’re clear that’s all it is.”

Killian felt a tightening in his chest at her proclamation, disappointment clenching in his gut and alerting him that he had already allowed himself to want so much more. “You’ve already decided that, have you?” he responded, fighting to keep his voice light.

She held his gaze, expression mournful, knowing, and more than a little haunted. “It’s for the best really. Trust me on that. You don’t want to get too close to me. Eventually, I’m too much for anyone to deal with. It gets messy. I’m just sparing us both a lot of hurt in the long run.”

He hummed low in his throat, the deep vibration of the sound almost physically palpable to her as he leaned closer, gauging her reaction with a knowing glimmer in his eye. “You say that now, Swan. And that’s fine, I can be incredibly patient. But I see that there could be so much more between us.”

“Do you indeed?” she queried in an equally teasing measure, his response allowing her to drop the wary seriousness she had spoken with before and banter back with him in return, almost irresistibly.

“Have a gander for yourself if you doubt me,” he offered, holding her gaze, an open expression seeming to lay himself bare before her. “I am an open book to you… just as you are to me.”

Emma caught her breath, helpless but to stare back into his eyes as he asked. Guard down, walls lowered, there was a flash behind her eyes of bare limbs moving in unison, heavy pants of exertion, whispered endearments in a familiar timbre, and a shattered cry of completion in a voice sounding much like her own.

Blinking free and pulling away with a gasp, she knew what she’d seen, and flushed from the roots of her hair outward. “What was that?” she whispered, almost to herself, even as she knew exactly what she had witnessed. Never had she experienced such a glimpse of something so pleasurable it left her quivering with unquenched need.

“I think you know,” Killian replied with a roguish smirk, though his voice was gentle, almost hiding the slight hurt that swam in the crystal blue of his eyes at the distance she still tried to keep between them. “Possibly the dessert we could enjoy if you let a nice dinner for us progress to its natural conclusion?”

Nodding, she regained her equilibrium at last and reached out to pat him on the shoulder with a sort of playful camaraderie. “Hmm… well, maybe you’d better keep those thoughts to yourself for now,” she taunted. Still, as she settled into the driver’s seat and waved to him while backing away from the curb and pulling onto the street, Killian could see a deep and fragile longing behind her practical nonchalance. She wanted, just as he did; that closeness and heat and belonging, but she wouldn’t allow it for herself. She didn’t trust that anything good could last - and why would she, after all that she had survived already? Possibly she had waited so long to be loved, to feel wanted, that when it was placed before her, she denied what was being offered. While that might have worked for most, he wasn’t going to stay at a careful distance. Not when he could see the loneliness and yearning in her, as clearly as he could see it in his own mirror each morning. He would keep coming back, closer and closer each time, until maybe they could both find what they had been living without for so long.

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#cssns23 #cs au mc #cs ff #carolina moon #chapter two

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