#and the desperate attempts to regain control by trying to hold back or stifling

[temporarilyunspokensneezes]

Something about sneezing that's especially hot to me is just how like....you genuinely cannot control it. I can make myself cough. I can make myself yawn. Lots of "automatic" bodily things can be controlled to some degree. But sneezing? Sure you can "make" yourself sneeze but what it really means is that you can tip yourself over the edge. But once it's happening? There's no stopping or controlling it. It's going to happen however it wants. You can try, but even stifling still results in that little explosion. Whether it's allergies or being sick, when someone's nose decides it's time to sneeze, they're no longer calling the shots, their nose is. And that's just 🥵🥵🥵

[doodle-pops]

Shadows of Honour

Finrod x reader

A/N: I have an unhealthy obsession with angst and since Christmas is close by, I'd love to share it with you all :)

Warnings: female reader, pregnancy, abandonment, arguments, heavy angst, angst no comfort

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: “If… If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

Rivers of tears cascaded down your burning cheeks as you stood face-to-face with the man you loved. His awareness and compassion for your distress was etched onto his face, unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. Those once–beloved blue–green eyes failed to hold the honesty and sincerity they once did; instead, they remained fixed on the floor, avoiding contact with you or the round, protruding bump that bore testament to your shared love. He heaved a heavy sigh, fully aware that explaining his reasons wouldn’t make sense to you, even as he allowed you to vent your pain and his pride. Were his actions truly so cruel and heartless as to bring his wife to tears and endless pleas?

“You can’t leave me; you can’t leave us!” your voice trembled with desperation, your hand instinctively cradling your belly, emphasising the life within. “You can’t abandon your family and people for the sake of a mortal you don’t even know, Finrod!”

Lifting his head to meet your tear–stained cheeks, he reached out to cradle your face, but his gesture was met with swift rejection. Your swatting hands pushed his away, and you took a step back, staring at him in disbelief. Controlling your breathing became a struggle; in your current state, maintaining composure was no easy feat. It was even more challenging when your husband, the one who was supposed to protect and cherish you, seemed to have lost all reason and logic. What happened to his sense and sensibility?

Covering your mouth in a futile attempt to stifle your sobs, you fought to speak with a broken voice, “Don’t...don’t try to smooth things over when you know I’m right. Don’t silence me! I have every right to be unhappy with your choice. You’re choosing a mortal over me, your daughter, and our unborn child! How else am I supposed to react?”

“You need to calm down, Y/N; it’s not good for the baby—”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me when your actions say otherwise,” you hissed with discontent, refusing to let him dictate what was right or wrong, especially when he couldn’t seem to decide for himself.

Frowning, his eyes darted hesitantly to the door, sensing a third presence nearby before returning to your panting figure. Your disapproval of his touch stung, but he understood that your nerves needed calming and your mind needed settling. He observed as you instinctively rubbed your belly, the storm of emotions causing your little one to shift uncomfortably. Dragging out this argument seemed futile when he knew that his final decision was unchangeable. It was only a matter of time until you comprehended the purpose behind his choice. Without further ado, he spun on his heels, making his way over to the closet, gathering clothes and hunting gear. Prolonging the debate wouldn’t lead to a resolution; you couldn’t convince him to stay, and he was steadfast in his commitment to aid the mortal.

“So you’re not going to say anything?! You’re not going to fight with me, fight for me, fight for us?! You’re just going to let yourself be swayed by some mortal who wants to fall in love with an elf and give her the Silmaril? The same jewel your cousins would kill for?” Your voice regained its vigour, tinged with frustration, as you approached the closet where he continued to nonchalantly pack his belongings. Your accusations stung like barbs, and yet he felt the pain even more acutely with every word you hurled his way. He knew the consequences; it was his very understanding of them that fuelled his turmoil.

Biting his lip to suppress his trembling emotions, he kept his eyes averted, focusing on the task before him. He didn’t want you to see his own turmoil, as it would only make you feel worse. Your stress levels were high enough, and he racked his brain for a way to soothe you without further escalation. “Please, don’t worry, ĕrĕmelda. I will return to you, safe and sound,” he whispered softly. “This is the will of Eru, and I must honour it.”

Your voice cut through the air, laden with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “Eru? Did he also instruct you to swear an oath, marry me, and start a family, only to abandon us for some mortal who wants to show the world his bravery by pursuing a maiden out of his league? I thought you believed that Eru didn’t intend for elves and mortals to be together. Why are you acting in direct opposition to that belief? And, for that matter, why did you keep the oath and the foresight of your own death hidden from me?”

As the trousers slipped from his grasp, he turned to face your puffy eyes and cheeks. The remnants of his irritation dissipated in the face of your broken state. His mouth opened to reply, but his words faded away as he studied your misery. He was causing more harm than good, and he couldn’t quite understand why.

With deliberate steps, he approached you, his hands tentatively reaching out to touch your arms. He noticed your lack of resistance and gently drew you into a hug. Holding you close for the first time since that morning, he breathed in your scent, savouring the fragrance of gardenias and lilacs that clung to your skin. He felt your baby move within you, and it was a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a life he seemed intent on leaving behind. Finrod knew deep down that this might be the last time he held you like this, yet he hadn’t anticipated that the parting would be so fraught with tears and agony. Leaving for a self–imposed mission in the name of honour and duty felt hollow when he longed to stay with you and your children, the family he had fought so hard to build.

In his heart, he knew he was doing more harm than good.

His children.

His heart ached at the thought of his beloved children—his eldest daughter, Lairelótë, and his unborn child. The child he cherished and sang lullabies to every night would grow up without their father’s presence, knowing of him only through stories and tales as he would be revered among his people. And his daughter, what would she think of him for leaving, for prioritising a mortal’s quest over his own family? The weight of these realisations bore down on him, causing turmoil in his mind. What was he truly doing? He had vowed to give his life for his family, yet here he was, seemingly throwing it away.

“If…” he began, his words trailing off as he listened to the heart–wrenching cries of his wife in his arms. Your sobs cut through him like a blade, each one striking his heart with painful force. “If…If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

You found yourself speechless, unsure of how to respond. His question stunned you, anger and bewilderment coursing through your veins. It felt as if he had dropped a ton of bricks on you with his words. “Finrod, I...” you faltered, struggling to put your thoughts into coherent words.

As he continued to rub your back, your hiccups grew stronger, a peculiar trait of yours that had often turned gloomy moods into moments of laughter. However, not even that unique trait could lighten the heaviness of the situation today. Glancing towards the door, his senses alert, he knew precisely who the third presence was. He fervently hoped that she didn’t have to witness the full extent of this devastating argument, which could only amplify the pain of his departure.

“F–Finrod,” you hiccupped, your voice shaking, “do you understand the significance of all of this?”

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand continuing its soothing motion on your back, gradually calming the movement in your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you rephrased your question, “This mortal knows that his quest will lead to death. By asking you to fulfil this oath, he’s essentially asking you to die for him, so that he can have his happily ever after while I suffer. He knows that he wouldn’t survive without help. Why accept the quest in the first place? Why risk a precious life? Doesn’t he consider you important?”

Finrod sighed, his tone carrying a mix of patience and empathy. “His heart is young and easily swayed by emotions, arimeldanya. Love often drives us to do whatever it takes to be with the one we cherish.”

“But why does he have to take you away from me?” you pleaded; your voice tinged with desperation. “Tell him to ask someone else, to be less selfish. I need you; we need you.”

A small chuckle escaped Finrod at the pout that formed on your tear–streaked face. It was a brief moment of levity amidst the turmoil, a fleeting reminder of the bond you shared. Sliding his hand up your back, his fingers gently cradled your cheeks, tilting your head to meet his gaze. You saw the tears welling in his eyes, an ethereal light that shimmered with sorrow. To you, he was an angelic presence, a source of joy and happiness.

Testing the waters, he gauged your reaction before leaning in, capturing your lips in a tender, bittersweet kiss. The initial surprise was replaced by a shared intimacy, a final connection before his departure and the sorrow that lay ahead. His lips met yours with a mixture of longing and pain, a poignant reminder of the love you both shared. It was a memory to hold onto, a testament to the strength of your bond even in the face of adversity.

“I swore an oath to his House to aid in times of need, he had summoned me to fulfil it, I cannot deny its call. I can only hope that this quest won’t tear me away from you,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “And I promise, I won’t give up without a fight if there’s a chance for my wish to be granted.”

“This still isn’t fair Finrod,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “You’ve made a decision without me and I can’t change that. You’re so selfish...”

Eyes downturn, he licked his lips and cast one more glance at the door, sensing the presence fading. He knew his words were false hope when he had foreseen a certain destiny about him, but it was necessary to still give it. “There’s still a way to rewrite the future; it is not set in stone. My death does not have to be this way. Have faith in me, I will return to you and our dear little ones.”

Masterlist

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[demonsandco]

I just saw you don't have anything with Barbatos, this is a crime /j /lh

So could I please request A, C, D, F, K, M, P, V and W from the smut alphabet with him? I know it's a lot, so please feel free to just pick the ones you want to do if it's too much!! I love your writing by the way, thank you for sharing it with us and I hope you have a wonderful day💖

Aaa thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my stuff!! I’m still a little unsure on how I want to portray Barb (considering he has such little screen time smh), but you cannot tell me this man isn’t secretly a slut (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

As with everything, Barbatos’ first instinct after sex is to take care of his partner in any way he can. He’ll want to run them a bath, get them something to drink, and if it’s not too late he may even offer to make them a light snack, all the while completely ignoring his own needs. He wants to feel useful and productive, unused to properly relaxing or taking a break. Even if his muscles feel like jelly and his legs tremble with every step, he’ll still focus all his energy on serving them. Luckily, with how exhausted he tends to feel right after sex, it’s not too hard for them to convince him to just cuddle up and rest for once, their encouragement being more than enough to convince him to indulge for once.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as Barb isn’t a fan of messiness, there's something about cumming on his partner that he finds immensely pleasing, being able to claim them in a primal way, without having to worry about lasting marks. He especially loves cumming all over their hands, watching it drip down to their wrists. He has no shame in cleaning it up for them, either, bringing their dirtied hands to his mouth and running his tongue over their palms, diligently sucking each finger clean individually, all while making direct eye contact with a lewd look on his face.

(cont under the cut)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

With how intensely private Barbatos is, the fact that he has an active sex life, or experience in general, could be a dirty secret on it’s own. Many believe that he’s married to his job, and even those that are close to him, rarely hear about the more private partners of his life. It’s not that he purposefully keeps his relationship a secret, but rather he just tends to blend into the background and he hardly ever feels the need to talk about himself. The amount of passion he has in the bedroom is surprising to say the least, considering how he carries himself in public.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Barbatos greatly enjoys stress positions, especially ones that involve restraints. His favorite would have to be kneeling, legs spread with his ankles tied to his thighs and his hands tied behind his back, forcing his spine to arch and leaving him exposed and helpless to his partner’s every whim. He knows that it’s rather out of the ordinary, and he definitely doesn’t expect every night with his partner to involve something like that, but he can’t help but crave the thrill that comes with that position, unable to move and not having to think, only having to hold still and letting them use his body as they wish.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Unsurprisingly, one of Barb's favorite kinks is bondage, either with ropes or delicate ribbons. It’s cathartic in a way, both tying up his partner and being restrained himself. He finds himself drawn to intricate knot patterns especially, enjoying the artistry and skill that comes with it. He could spend hours restraining them in an artful manner without getting tired of it. He’s even more fond of having them do the same to him, knowing that they put time and effort into learning different patterns for him, not being able to do anything but hold still as their hands slide over his body in such an intimate way. Every shift of his muscles or hitch of his breath causes the bonds to bite into his skin, pressing tightly in his most sensitive areas.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Despite having a fairly high libido, it’s actually incredibly difficult to turn Barbatos on without being outright sexual. He has an impressive amount of control, especially when he’s working, and no amount of flirtatious touches or whispered promises are enough to shatter his composure. If his partner really wants to have an effect on him, they need to be bold and direct.

The easiest way to do so is to follow him somewhere private, like an empty hallway or the kitchen, and be physical. Grab his hips and press up against his back, pin him against a wall or counter with their thigh between his legs, or pull him down for a kiss while tugging on his hair. They need to be quick, taking too much time will make him rush back to work and ruin their element of surprise, but the sudden affection is enough to steal his breath and leave him aching for more. Once they’ve managed to break his control, though, they’d better be prepared to not get much sleep that night, because he’ll be eager to follow through with their advances the moment he finishes his work for the day.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Barbatos tends to prefer a slower, passionate pace, every movement calculated and controlled to bring a specific amount of pleasure to his partner. It isn’t often that he has time to spare, so when he does, he wants to savor every moment he gets to spend with them, taking his time with their body and indulging his greedy side. He loves how desperate it makes them, his movements so slow that it’s practically torture, highly pleasurable, but just barely not enough to cum. He’ll drag on the moment for as long as he can, because he knows it’ll be a while before he can do it again.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Barbatos is naturally very quiet, his voice soft and soothing. He doesn’t speak much during sex, and when he does, his words are barely more than a whisper. At first, he’s completely silent, purposefully stifling his noises out of embarrassment, but even when he lets go, he never really gets loud. Most of his noises sound like gasps, and even his rarely heard moans are extremely breathy and desperate, much higher in tone than his regular voice. He has a habit of trying to muffle himself if he feels he’s getting too noisy, hiding his face in bed sheets or pillows and biting into the material, or bringing his hands up to his face to bite his knuckles, attempting to regain control of his voice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Unlike most demons, Barbatos’ horns are actually very sensitive, to the point where the slightest touch is enough to send shivers down his spine. The little skeletal appendages function more like feelers or antennae, rather than weapons. While he’s distracted, they often move without him realising, shifting with his emotions and acting as an easy way for his partner to tell when he’s really enjoying something.

His tail isn’t anywhere near as sensitive, but it’s certainly a fun addition to the bedroom. He has very precise control of it, being able to move both tips independently with precision. It basically self lubricates, too, having a strange wet, almost gloopy and slippery texture, without ever leaving behind any residue to clean up. He’d be more than happy to use it on his partner, or himself, and show them exactly how skilled he is in controlling its movements.

[livingforthewhump]

Oh I just saw that was already requested so ‘taunting’

:)))

Blue fire requested; red for posted.

First Previous Next

—

“Please,” Caroline gasped, crumpling to the floor as his power leached from her body. Bruises were already forming from his recent abuse, and she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or not to finally regain control of herself. “Please stop.”

Paladin backhanded her, eyes glowing in fury. “You think you deserve for me to stop?” He grabbed her chin, digging his fingers into her jaw hard enough to force it open for no other reason than to make her helpless. “You think after what you did today, you deserve rest?”

He kicked her stomach and she doubled over, gasping for air as reflex tears came to her eyes. Paladin dragged her up by her chin. “Answer me. What do you think you deserve? Hm?”

Her hands grasped weakly at his wrist, jaw aching from where he held it. She had never seen him this angry before, and it chilled her to her very core, driving all rational thought out of her mind. In the face of this, there was no option but doing what he wanted. And that terrified her.

“I- I deserve punishment.”

He dropped her, letting her collapse onto herself. “Correct. Why?” His voice was as harsh as a whip, and it made her shudder to consider what might be coming next.

“I was, I, I was bad,” she choked out between sobs.

“Yes, doll, you were. Very bad. I hope you’re ready to pay for it, and see that it isn’t worth it to defy me.” His voice that had been seething with anger returned to his usual soft, controlling tone, somehow far more sinister now that she had seen the darkness it had been disguising. “I think you need to be reminded of what you are. How helpless you are.” She heard his heavy footsteps cross the room, then chains clacking.

“On your knees, doll,” he said sternly, approaching again. A shudder ripped through Caroline as she shifted her weight onto her knees, still curled in on herself in a desperate attempt to escape what was coming. “Arms behind your back,” Paladin commanded, and she obeyed. Heavy links circled her wrists tightly, and she wondered if he was going to break them again.

“I won’t do much damage right now,” he murmured as if he could read her mind- maybe he could- and cinched the chains tighter until she whimpered softly. “I still need you able to fight.” The chain clinked high above her, seemingly being attached to something on the ceiling, and pulled through until there wasn’t any slack.

She felt Paladin’s suffocating presence as he knelt down beside her, brushing her hair away from the back of her neck with feather-light fingers. As her breath stuttered from the contact, he looped a smaller chain around her neck multiple times, pulling it flush with her skin and a bit tighter than she found necessary. Just tight enough to make her afraid. To make her gasp for air when there was plenty available.

Paladin fastened the chain around her neck to a loop on the floor, forcing her to bend over to keep the chain from pulling too tight.

“There we go,” he said, standing up. “Just like that, doll.”

Unexpectedly, he gave the chain reaching up to the ceiling a slight tug, pulling her arms back more than was comfortable.

She whined in fear, a broken “please” somehow making its way out of her.

“What was that, doll? Do you have something to say to me?” He went in front of her, fondling her hair and relishing her immobility.

“Please,” she gasped. She hated this, this suffocating weight, this not being able to move, being forced to just sit there and take it. She would do anything, no matter how degrading, to get in a position where at least that decision was hers to make. “Please, stop.”

Paladin laughed. “Aw, isn’t that sweet. Are you going to beg for me, little one? So that I’ll let you down, give you another chance to be good?”

Caroline nodded desperately against his hand, tears running down her face in as much shame as fear. She cursed him. She cursed herself. And she begged. “Yes. Yes, please, please let me down. I’ll be good, and, and make you happy. I’ll let you control me and, and, and whatever you want, just please let me down.”

He allowed her to babble on until she dissolved into tears, running his hand through her limp hair. “Poor dear, you really don’t like being restrained, do you? I wonder why.” His hands slid down to cup her chin, pulling her face up to him even as it made the chains around her neck tighten. “It doesn’t really matter, though. Do you know why?” His thumb swiped a tear from her cheek while she stared at him with wide, glistening eyes. “Because I want you to be like this. I want to see you helpless, completely at my mercy. I don’t just control you when I’m in your head, doll, I control you always. And seeing as how you’ve been so very disobedient, I want to see you make up for that tenfold. After all, if your voice was strong enough to defy me, I want to know just how strong it is.”

Paladin stood and circled behind her grabbing hold of the chain and hoisting it higher. She gasped, screwing her eyes shut and letting her head fall back near the ground.

“How long can you scream for before you lose your voice?” Paladin mused out loud, a wicked smile carving its way into his voice. It was when he got gleeful that he was the worst, the cruelest. Caroline sobbed. “Two hours, three? Maybe you’ll pass out from the pain before you scream enough. I’m curious to see what comes first.”

“No,” Caroline said. “You, you told me you wouldn’t do damage. You need me to fight.”

He hummed. “I’m sure you can fight just fine with a few injuries. Really, dislocated shoulders won’t take too long for me to fix, and they’re oh so painful.”

“Please, no,” Caroline screamed, and Paladin chuckled again.

“You’re making orders now, doll? Very well. Prove to me that you don’t deserve this. Stand up and walk away, if you’re so independent.” He stepped back, waiting, and all she could do was try to stifle her tears. “You see? You can’t even move without me.”

She screamed at a jerking pressure on her shoulders and the following thud as they were yanked out of place, Paladin’s fingers bruising her arms. He released them, letting her hang from the mutilated limbs before tugging the chain again, higher this time. The chain around her neck tightened as she tried to compensate, stealing her air. She momentarily panicked and thrashed before Paladin got a grip on her hair, holding her head still and steadying her.

“Poor doll, so frightened.” He pulled on her hair so that the chain on her neck tightened severely, stopping her breath entirely. Her mouth fell open in search of air that she was not being allowed. He crowded in close. “It’s going to get so much worse. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it. I’m going to drag this pain out much longer than you think you can go, and then I’m going to leave you here. How does that sound?”

She couldn’t respond, too busy trembling under the lack of air, and he finally released her only to crank her arms higher. The angle of her arms was sickeningly steep, her knees barely on the floor as most of her weight was transferred to her ruined joints. Caroline screamed, sobbing senselessly. She was pulled in two directions, the tension of the chains such that she couldn’t breathe normally and keep added pressure off of her shoulders.

“Scream louder, doll,” Paladin taunted. “If you lose your voice I may let you down sooner.”

His foot was suddenly pressing between her shoulder blades, shoving her down. She couldn’t tell if the screaming that drowned out everything other than the pain was in her mind or coming from her raw throat. Her existence became pain.

—

Tag list (message me if you want to be added or removed): @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @jkoo7jkoo5-baby-susan @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @cherryblossomskye @utopian819 @whumpkitty @whole-and-apart-and-between @written-to-death @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @villain-enthusiast @hurting-fictional-people @kixngiggles @onestopheroxvillain @lave-whump @bibliophilelifestyle @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams

[happyandticklish]

Behave

Notes: For the anon request. The request was slightly vague, so I tried to improvise a little. I hope you like the result! ^^

Summary: Shizuo has a habit of picking Izaya up whenever he tries to stir up trouble, to mischievous results. 

Causing general mayhem and disaster was one of Izaya’s favorite activities, and Ikebukuro was one of his favorite cities to do so in. The chance of bumping into some kind of natural disaster was almost inevitable, and on the rare occasion of peace among the streets, Izaya was always willing to stir something up himself. Sometimes this something could be the beginnings of a gang war. And sometimes it was merely messing with small children.

Life was full of surprises that way.

“And just what do we have here?” Izaya inquired, folding his hands in front of himself as he stopped before a group of children gathered on the park asphalt. There were three of them, a young girl with a box of chalk clutched protectively to her chest, and two boys, who had previously been drawing out an outline for hop-scotch, who both looked to be about a year or so older than her.

The first boy glanced up at his comment, shooting him a suspicious glance. “Playing a game,” he answered stiffly, clearly waiting for the man to say anything in the negative about it.

“So I can see,” Izaya agreed, surveying the scene before them. “Hop-scotch… I remember playing that game as a kid. How do the rules work again?”

“Well—” the girl started hesitantly, but before she could say anything more, Izaya had begun hopping from one foot to the next over the squares provided. He wobbled a bit as he went, all with an assured smile. For his finale, he jumped forward with both feet, landing on the discarded pieces of chalk and cracking two of them easily.

“Hey!” the girl cried, eyes widening. “I just got those!”

“Oh!” Izaya clucked his tongue, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed his work. “Well that will never do. I guess we’ll just have to break the other ones to match. Would you terribly mind handing over that box?”

The girl hid the box quickly behind her back, which wasn’t the smartest of defensive moves but it was all she had. The second boy appeared to be taking in the scene cautiously, clearly not wanting to get himself involved. The first one however, took an angry step forward, glaring up at him.

“Leave her alone!” he protested, portraying a level of bravado he didn’t feel. “Or I’ll—I’ll—”

“You’ll… what?” Izaya inquired, leaning down to face him with a devastating smirk. “No, continue, I’m truly curious—what exactly could you do?”

The boy stammered over his words, trying to think of any kind of witty reply but coming up blank.

“Leave the kid alone.”

Izaya sprang up, whirling around at the sound of the telltale voice. “Shizu-chan~! So nice of you to drop by. Decided to enjoy the spring day as well?”

One hand shoved carelessly in his pocket, Shizuo Heiwajima stood bathed in the gentle lamplight of the sun, surveying the scene casually. In place of his usual angry scowl, however, there was a bored, almost dismissive look on his face, as though dealing with Izaya’s shit simply wasn’t worth his time. Instead of answering, he stalked over to the other with quick, forceful steps, until they were inches away.

Izaya staggered back a little, taken by surprise by the direct approach. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Shizuo had leaned down, grabbing Izaya around the waist, and hauled him over his shoulder. Izaya squawked in an undignified manner, gripping onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt for support.

Shizuo kicked the broken pieces of chalk back over to the children with a grunted, “here”, before turning around and heading off in the opposite direction, Izaya in tow.

By this point a burning crimson had begun to overtake Izaya’s features, and he could see the faces of the children from his vantage point, all of whom seemed delighted to see him in the embarrassing position. “You know, you can’t simply pick me up whenever you feel like it,” he huffed, reaching back in an attempt to swat at the back of the other’s head.

“Oh?” Shizuo easily avoided him as Izaya struggled to maneuver his arm in the right position. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?” he asked, parroting Izaya’s earlier words.

Izaya narrowed his eyes. He kicked one of his legs out, aiming to get a direct hit at his stomach. Unfortunately, legs do not generally go in that direction and he primarily ending up flailing around a lot and sometimes hitting the other’s arm in the process. This was not troublesome all on its own (Shizuo had definitely endured far worse from the flea), but it did prompt an idea. The next time one of Izaya’s legs came too near his face, he grabbed it with his other hand, gripping his fingers into the denim protecting the backs of his thighs.

Izaya let out a strangled noise, managing to somehow disguise it as a cough at the last moment. Shizuo’s hand remained on his thigh, his fingers gently tapping where they curled around his leg. Izaya’s breath caught in his throat as he realized suddenly how very, very fucked he was.

“S-Shizuo,” he said, trying as desperately as he could to keep his growing panic out of his voice. “I really think you should let me down now.”

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo asked calmly, his fingers tapping out a rhythm of doom against his jeans, each and every one causing Izaya to twitch against his will. “You sound suddenly concerned. Is something bothering you?”

“Shizuo, not again,” Izaya gritted out. Memories were flooding back to him of a week ago, causing butterflies to excite uninvited in his stomach. “If you think you can simply pick me up like a common stray and t—” he broke off, pressing his lips together into a firm, irritated line.

“And what?” Shizuo questioned, tossing a teasing glance back at him. Amusement danced in his eyes, and never had Izaya wished to punch him more than in that moment. “What exactly is it that I can’t do?”

“I believe you know perfectly well what I mean,” Izaya replied with a sickeningly pleasant smile. “After all, seeing as it has for some reason become one of your favorite activities to do to me, I dearly hope you know what it is.”

“And I would hope you know what it is, considering you appear to love it so much,” Shizuo shot back, pinching the back of his thigh suddenly.

“I w—shit!” Izaya lurched forward, his body’s instinctual response to save himself from the sensation. His arms flailed wildly, searching for a handhold, and eventually clinging onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt. Shizuo stiffened, trying to ignore the strangely pleasant shudder that ran down his spine as Izaya’s fingers brushed his back. He shook it off, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Shizuo outlined a path of small pinches down the back of Izaya’s thigh, making the man jerk and squirm with each one, though he managed to stifle any noises this time. Once he had gotten Izaya properly ramped up, he removed his hand entirely, giving the other a momentary reprieve.

Izaya exhaled slowly, glad for the break. After a moment of nothing happening however, he threw a confused glance back at the other. “Are you done t—ahAHAHAHA, ohohoho shIHIHIHIHihihit!”

Izaya burst into wild, uncontrolled laughter as Shizuo suddenly dug his fingers into his thigh, pressing into just the right pressure points to make the other go positively mad. His hand came back instinctively to try to rip Shizuo’s hand away from the spot, but his current position prevented him from doing so. The sudden, intensive tickling caused a hysteria that weakened Izaya instantly, his eyes crinkling up into a series of wild giggles and shrieks, a euphoria he didn’t often allow himself to feel lighting up in his chest. His legs kicked out with reckless abandon, but nothing he attempted saved himself from the relentless attack.

Just as suddenly as he had initiated it, Shizuo stopped, allowing his hand to merely rest on the other’s leg. Izaya wheezed helplessly, burying his face in the back of the other’s shirt. His skin tingled with phantoms of the earlier attack.

“I’m sorry, you were going to say something?” Shizuo asked innocently.

Izaya weakly lifted his head, shooting back a venomous glare. “You utter ahahAHAHASSHOLE, nohohoho, nOHOHOT AHAHAhagain!”

Izaya fell back into hysterics as Shizuo once again started up with his thighs. It was a testament to Shizuo’s skill that he was able to keep a firm hold on Izaya whilst torturing him, all the while continuing to stroll through the streets as though nothing was happening. By this point, people had started to stare, dumbfounded by the sight of a grown man thrashing and howling with laughter, hoisted like a misbehaving child over another man’s shoulder.

“S-Shihihihizuo!” Izaya squawked, pounding his fist against the other’s back. “StahAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!”

“Sure,” Shizuo agreed, smirking as his fingers found a particularly unfortunate spot that had Izaya screeching. “Just say, ‘Shizuo is superior to me in every way’. You can do that, can’t you?”

“F-FuhuhUHUHUCK YOHOhohou!”

Shizuo clucked his tongue in disappointment. “I’m afraid that’s not it. Want to try again?”

Izaya tried. He really did. He used every ounce of self-control he had to try to either bear the sensations wracking his body or to somehow escape from Shizuo’s hold. But the embarrassing position combined with the results of a death spot being targeted in such an effective manner eventually did him in and he cracked.

“OhOHOHOKAY! OHOHohohohokay!” Izaya cried, frantic giggles interspersing his words. “S-Shihihizuo ihihis—ahAHAHAha, nohohoho wahahait—Shihihizuo—gahAHAHA! Gihihive mehehehe ahahahaha seHEHEHEHehecond!”

Shizuo reluctantly complied, momentarily stilling his hand. Izaya panted heavily, attempting to get any amount of air back. Once he’d finally regained enough breath to speak any semblance of coherent words, he raised his head and grinned back at the other. “Shizuo is… a fool for thinking I’d ever say anything inherently false as that. Sorry, try again next time.”

Shizuo’s confident smirk quickly transformed into an irritated scowl. “You little—” Instantly there were hands at his thighs again, only this time he attacked the other one which had thus far received no attention from their little game. Izaya let out an honest-to-god squeak, unprepared for the switch. He pulled at Shizuo’s shirt, needing a handhold as he faced the unbearable sensations. As he did so, however, he noticed the way his tugging had ridden Shizuo’s shirt up slightly, revealing the bare skin of his lower back and hips.

Izaya was struck with a sudden idea.

Shizuo flinched as he felt two hands grab onto his hips, fingers curling into the skin in a manner that was unmistakably ticklish. His hand faltered on Izaya’s thigh as his lips tugged into a reluctant grin, a couple growled giggles escaping him.

“I-Izaya,” he threatened, still holding onto Izaya but doing little else besides that. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“Why?” Izaya teased, scratching his hips once more and feeling the man shudder beneath him. “Feeling a bit nervous now that the situations have reversed?”

“I’ll drop you,” Shizuo threatened.

“I’m not worried,” Izaya dismissed, clearly having fun with the sudden power dynamic. “Haven’t you heard? Cats always land on their feet.”

“Mind if I test that theory?”

“Now, now, no need to be grumpy.” Izaya squeezed his hips again and Shizuo choked on a stifled giggle. “I get it. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. It’s fine, really. I’ll just be using it to my advantage now, is all.”

“L-Like hell you are!” Shizuo stammered, attempting to pull Izaya off his shoulders. Izaya yelped, grabbing onto Shizuo’s hips for support, causing the man to stumble forwards, releasing him in one go. With a startled cry, Izaya tumbled off his shoulders, and Shizuo jerked around, just managing to catch him by the arm as he hit the ground. It wasn’t a complete save (and Izaya would be complaining about being sore for days after), but it did prevent him from slamming into the concrete.

Izaya stared up at Shizuo, panting a little, his gaze focused on the place where Shizuo still gripped his arm. With a cough, Shizuo quickly released him, straightening up. “Are you…” he started slowly, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. “Okay?”

Izaya blinked, at a momentary loss for what to say, before his usual smirk returned to him. “Of course I’m okay, dear Shizu-chan. More than okay, at that.” He clambered to his feet, dusting off his jeans and trying not to focus on how his tailbone ached from slamming into the ground. “Because now I know your weakness, locked away in my brain for all eternity. But don’t worry—I’ll only use it against you as often as you’ve used mine against me. Now if you don’t mind, I really have some important business to be attending to, and must take my leave. Farewell, my dear brute.”

He saluted the other mockingly, whirling on his heel and quickly walking away. Shizuo’s frown of confusion as he watched him go quickly transformed into one of irritation. “You bastard, get back here!” he exclaimed, taking chase after him. “Who said you get to have the last word, huh?”

Izaya laughed merrily as he sprinted ahead, the two quickly disappearing into the chaos of the city. No matter what happened, nothing ever really changed between the two. One info broker, one bodyguard, locked together in continuous battle.

And as Izaya rounded the next corner sharply, his smirk turning into something almost giddy from the chase, he found he didn’t really mind if it meant he could hold the beast’s attention for even a moment longer.

[brilliantbecca94]

Good

a/n: This is my first time posting anything on tumblr, so if formatting is weird, I’m really sorry and if anyone would like to help me make it not weird that would be really appreciated. Smut is (hopefully) under the cut (if I did the Keep Reading thing right).

This is a minor, side piece to a longer chaptered work that I’ve been outlining. So if you’re interested in it and it intrigues you enough that you’d like to read the chaptered work, let me know and I might actually write it. That being said, this isn’t Reader Insert or Y/N, it’s an OC character I’m developing. Although reading this should be easy enough to substitute the character’s name with Y/N.

warnings: This is smut, so please don’t read if that’s something that makes you uncomfortable. Key points are oral (f receiving) and then sex. Also involves praise kink (to the best of my ability currently since this is my first endevor in it) and a brief mention of daddy kink. There’s also implications of mental illness (bi-polar disorder) though it is not explicitly named.

If you feel like i’ve missed mentioning something, let me know and I’ll add it.

word count: 2,487 (according to Word)

Summary: JJ discovers that his girlfriend has a praise kink and they have a really good time with it.

Tessa whined softly. Her head tossed back against the downy pillow cushioning her, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in a desperate attempt to stifle any sounds that may escape. The last thing she needed was her brother barging into her room and catching her with JJ Maybank of all people.

Especially while in the rather promiscuous position they currently found themselves.

Quieting herself was proving to be a difficult task though. No matter how hard she bit into her lip, or how deeply she buried her face into her pillow, JJ’s talents were too much to fight.

He was exceptional with his tongue and each deliberately casual lick he swiped across her heated core sent a shiver of pleasure up Tessa’s spine, forcing another quickly smothered mewl out of her.

A knot was forming in her belly, rapidly tightening in tandem with JJ’s thrusting fingers. His rings had long since warmed to match the temperature of her skin, but that didn’t make it any less exhilarating as they scraped against her entrance.

 “Jay…” Tessa whimpered, her own fingers curling through his soft blonde hair.

Simultaneously, her hands worked to push him away and hold him closer. Her peak was becoming almost too much for her to bear, but JJ wasn’t one to let her go unsatisfied.

He paused for a moment, tipping his head up in answer to her whine, offering Tessa a small respite. He looked up her body to her face, an arrogant smirk curling his lips. He drank in her wanton appearance, watched her breasts rise and fall with each heaving breath as she tried to take advantage and regain control of herself. Her sun-bleached hair fanned out around her, a wild halo of tangled blonde locks.

His smirk widened into a cat-like grin, enjoying the desperate little hums she gave. Her hips wiggled gently, urging him to continue. He stroked his thumb over her clit, relishing the delicate flinch of her oversensitive frame.

“Feel good, baby?” His voice was a husky whisper that sent a tingle of electricity through the knot in her abdomen.

She nodded frantically, turning her head from the pillow’s depths to look up at him with wide, pleading hazel eyes. Her hips jerked again, this time managing to slide down on his fingers.

The sudden fullness overwhelmed her. Her teeth buried harder into her lower lip, barely managing to catch the heavy gasp that slipped out.

“Don’t worry, baby,” JJ cooed, lowering his mouth to tickle her clit with the tip of his tongue. “I’ve got ya.”

His purr sent vibrations through her. His fingers crooked inside of her, the rough pads of his fingers scraping against the fluttering walls of her core. He kept his thrusts gentle, bordering on lazy, as he suckled at her vulnerable bud.

He was searching for something within her, that magical spot that would have her falling apart around him with a few deliberate touches.

He knew the moment he’d found it by the high keening squeal Tessa let slip without care and focused his efforts on abusing it in the most gratifying way.

While Tessa had a constant fear that her brother would walk in on them, if they weren’t careful, JJ had zero cares where Topper was concerned.

Though he hadn’t spoken the thought aloud to Tess, the boisterous blonde occasionally wished that the entitled, asshat Kook would find them together. He wanted to see Topper’s face when the prick saw his sweet little sister with a Pogue between her perfectly tanned thighs.

“JJ, please…” Tessa begged, her hips shifting restlessly, hopelessly, trying to encourage him to speed up and force her off the precipice she was precariously balanced on into bliss.

JJ chuckled against her, sending another wave of vibration through Tessa. The knot spasmed, her hips jerking against the constant stimulation. Her thighs tried to close around him, an unconscious attempt to cease the onslaught of pleasure he was raining on her. JJ was quick to catch one leg with his free hand, forcing it back against the warm teal sheets.

He could feel the muscles under her soft skin quivering beneath his palm and it drove him on, knowing she was so close to the edge and he was the one to bring her there.

“Come on, Tess,” he urged, tilting his head to kiss the unbound thigh. “Such a good girl, Tessa. Cum for me.”

Tessa felt the knot in her abdomen tighten exponentially, a jolt of electricity ripping through her accompanied by a gush of slick that JJ happily lapped up.

Her body was a mess of twitching shivers, for a moment she saw stars. The world went silent as JJ rode her through her orgasm.

When she finally came down, JJ was hovering over her, pressing soothing kisses to her neck and face.

As her vision cleared from its pleasurable haze, Tessa met his gaze. His blue eyes were dark, his smirk cocky and Tess couldn’t imagine anything more attractive in this moment. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hands slipping into his hair to hold him against her as he nipped and sucked at the tender spots of her throat.

Her body was still tingling in the aftermath of incredible bliss, her core throbbed, aching to be filled again.

She’d never felt like this before.

JJ had always brought her to orgasm, usually multiple times, but she’d never had one so strong before. She’d never been left reeling like she was now.

Trying to push through the fog lingering in her brain and the distraction of JJ’s lips against her skin, Tessa recalled the moments before her orgasmic out-of-body experience.

“Such a good girl…”

Tessa’s eyes shot open, her arms wrapping tighter around JJ. She shot up against him, pressing them flush together. His words were on repeat in her mind.

JJ fell back in reaction to her sudden impact but grinned up at her as she straddled him, his hands resting against her hips. She ground against him, fingers carding through his hair and lips crashing against his desperately.

Good girl, good girl, good girl

A thick moan ripped its way from her throat and this time there was no attempt to stifle herself. JJ groaned with her, hips rutting up against Tessa.

Her hand shot between them, slipping into his board shorts to stroke his hard cock. He moaned again, head falling back in surprise and pleasure.

When she tried to free him completely from his nylon prison, he gripped her hips a little harder, pulling back slightly to look her over.

“Baby-”

“Say it again,” Tessa interrupted, leaning in to kiss along his neck. “Please, JJ, say it again?”

Her voice was breathy and desperate, JJ had never heard her sound like that before. Even in the throes of bliss. It made his cock throb and ache, but he tried to push his lust down and focus on her request.

“Babe,” he choked, brain short circuiting as her teeth nipped against his pulse. “Tessa,” he tried again, a little stronger. He grabbed up her wrists, tugging her hands from him and pushing her back just enough to force her to meet his gaze.

Her pupils were blown wide, the normal hazel almost completely concealed by black. She looked a little manic and he wondered if she was having an episode. He tried to wrack his brain for other signs he may have missed throughout the day but couldn’t recall any. He’d even seen her take the little white pill this morning, before they took out the Pogue.

“Tess, baby, you good?” he questioned softly, keeping their gazes locked.

“I just…I…” she stuttered, before deciding to just ignore speaking and try rocking her hips against his again.

JJ grabbed her hip with one hand, keeping her wrists locked in the other, stilling her so she would focus.

“Talk to me,” he demanded. His nerves were starting to grate, the uncertainty of the situation creeping through him, expelling the lust he’d felt moments ago.

“I’m…you said I was good…I want to be good, J.”

His hedging anxiety dissipated in an instant, soothed that her mania was induced by pleasure and not anything more serious.

Using his grip on her wrist, JJ tugged her closer, pressing their lips together fiercely. He moved the kisses across her cheek, to her jaw, until his mouth rested at her ear.

“You wanna be a good girl for me, Tess?” he purred, reveling in the shudder that wracked her body and the deep, heated flush that colored her cheeks all the way down to the tops of her breasts.

“Yes,” Tessa breathed, tilting her head back to give him more access.

“My good girl,” he praised, laying her back into the pillows. Her arms returned to their position around him, fingers brushing through his soft blonde locks until they were mussed and standing on end.

JJ didn’t care as he delved down, kissing and nipping along the column of her throat, over her collarbone, to settle at her breasts.

“Legs up, baby,” he crooned, smirking against the velvety skin of her breast when she obeyed without hesitation. Her ankles crossed against his back, heels resting at the base of his spine.

He was quick to slide his board shorts down, only removing them enough to free his cock.

Tessa whimpered as he filled her, inch by inch until he was fully seated within her. Her fingers clutched at him, her hips rolling up to meet his.

He kept a slow pace, his cock dragging against the warm cavern that clutched him desperately.

Carefully, he pulled first one hand and then the other from his hair, lacing their fingers together against the teal sheets. His face hovered over hers, their breath mingling, and gazes locked.

There was something about the constant eye contact as he moved within her that drove her closer to the edge faster than she thought possible.

She whined, breathily. Her body moved with his, keeping pace with every deep thrust he landed within her. The tip of his cock brushed against the splendid spot, once, twice. Over and over again. Tessa gasped, eyes fluttering closed and head tilting back as ecstasy washed over her.

“No, no, baby,” he admonished with a husky chuckle. “Good girls keep their eyes open.”

She blinked rapidly, focusing her gaze on his again. She sighed, mewling and rocking against him.

“So good for me.”

Another mewl and it took a great deal of effort to continue obeying him as the knot in her abdomen began to rebuild.

She fought the urge to close her eyes though. She was good, she’d listen. If she listened, he’d stay and keep telling her she was good.

JJ felt Tessa’s walls start to flutter around him, gripping tighter. Her fingers squeezed his, her lower lip coming back to rest between her teeth as her whines started to rise in pitch.

He leaned in, closing the last few millimeters between them to capture her lip for himself.

“You close pretty girl?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

She nodded, leaning up to kiss him again. JJ swallowed her whimpers and moans, moving a little harder against her. His cock brushing relentlessly against the bliss inducing spot.

“Cum for me, good girl,” JJ commanded, forcing himself deeper inside her.

Tessa cried out, falling apart around him.

He joined her, dropping his face into her neck to bite the tender flesh of her shoulder, muffling his own sounds of pleasure as her body milked him.

As they returned to themselves, panting heavily and hearts still pumping rapidly, JJ rolled to the side, dragging Tessa with him until she rested curled around him.

She nuzzled happily into him, content to drift in post-coital bliss while he worked on pulling her comforter around them before laying back with her.

He watched her fade into unconsciousness, fingers twitching for the joint he had tucked in his bag. Tess didn’t like him smoking in her room though, her mom and brother asked too many questions and she wasn’t willing to let Topper in on the secret of her Pogue boyfriend just yet.

Instead, he distracted himself by toying with her hair. The soft blonde locks were tangled and mussed, but he was able to find sections that allowed him to sift his fingers through without disturbing her.

He was curious about this new kink they’d discovered. She’d never mentioned it before but based on the way she’d hesitated in telling him what she wanted, he would bet she hadn’t known about it before today. Not really anyway.

She’d told him about her dad, who’d split a couple years ago to move to the mainland with some secretary or intern or something. Tess had said she’d been close to him, before he’d divorced her mom and moved out with the twenty-some year old.

His gaze drifted across the room to the windowsill and the picture frames perched strategically there, focusing on the one in the middle.

The plain black frame was easy to miss, especially if you weren’t looking for it, surrounded by ones that were much larger and more decorative, but he’d seen it before. Inspected and even been a little jealous of it before he found out the story behind her dad’s departure.

The man in the picture didn’t really look like a Kook, with the black snap back and Dollar Store sunglasses, but that wasn’t what really interested JJ anymore. It was the little blonde girl, balanced precariously on a surfboard that was twice her size, while the non-Kook looking man carried it (and the girl) through the water.

It had been Tessa’s first time ever surfing, her dad had taken her out without her mom knowing. Tessa was maybe six in the picture. She didn’t remember much of the day when she tried to recount it, but it didn’t matter because it was one of her favorite memories anyway.

His gaze dropped to the bottom of the frame, tracing the silver letters in his mind.

Daddy’s Girl.

He glanced back down at Tess and smirked.

His Kook Princess had daddy issues, he’d stake all of his meager possessions (and John B.’s) on it.

He settled back into the orange and blue pillows, one arm behind his head while the other wrapped around Tessa’s thin frame, tugging her closer. His eyes drifted shut, ready to fall into the oblivion of sleep and take advantage of his girl’s luxury bed in place of John B.’s pull out sofa.

As sleep began to pull him under, a thought crossed his mind. Brief as it was, it still brought a confident smirk to his lips and he decided his next goal was to get Tessa to call him daddy at some point.

And wouldn’t that be just the perfect time for Topper to walk in on them?

[go--ask--alice]

Exordium

Glasses

🃏: Joker

👑: Alice

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

👑 So… *I give you a mischievous look.* How long til we get to the club??

🃏 Why? You want to have a long talk about chemical compounds with me? *Goes into my pocket and pulls out glasses.* Let me put these on first.

👑 *I bite my lip so hard that I’m surprised there isn’t blood.* Umm no Daddy, not that that doesn’t honestly sound fascinating. *I’m staring, it’s embarrassing* You.. umm.. you look very uhh handsome in those glasses.

🃏 *I notice that you seem aroused.* Alice. You like Daddy’s glasses? *Makes a face like you are prey.*

👑 Huh..? Oh! Yes Daddy I do.

🃏 I use these for distance too. Speaking of which… The distance between us.

👑 *I swallow hard.*

🃏 *Pulls your ankles and yanks you forward.* Was too far away. *I run my hands over the coat and then under onto your thighs.*

👑 Mmm Daddy.. That feels good. I love when you touch me.

🃏 Ahhhhhh… Alice, You are incredible *I grope your body under the coat with a sinister look on my face.*

👑 *I crawl closer, into your lap.* Now this.. *I roll my hips.* is an appropriate distance between us.

🃏 Ohhhhhhhh I still don’t think I can see you properly. *Cleans glasses and puts them back on.* Mmmm much better.

👑 *Those glasses are doing terrible things to me.* You are so fucking beautiful! *I reach forward and run a nail down your jaw before leaning forward to capture your lips.*

🃏 *I’ve never been called beautiful. EVER. And I’ve been called plenty of things. Mostly psychotic. When you touch me my body trembles with desire for you.*

👑 *I put both of your hands behind your head, holding you to me, I kiss you as hard and rough as I can. The fact that you’re giving me even the tiniest bit of control makes so wet.*

🃏 *A jolt of arousal starts low in my crotch and travels throughout my entire body. I don’t know what has come over me but it feels so good. I am amused as you pin my hands behind me. Your fierce kisses make me stand fully at attention.* What are you…. ohhh… Alice…..

👑 *I let go, but twine one of my hands into your green hair, the other on the side of your neck. I literally can not get enough of you. My tongue probes deep into your mouth battling for control. I roll my hips forward and make contact with your hard cock.*

🃏 *I grab you tight and push my hips up to meet you and start kissing you hard and pull your hair back so I can kiss your neck and breasts. I’m determined to win back control.*

👑 *I yank your hair at the base of your neck, forcing your mouth to let go of me. I take the opportunity to latch my mouth onto your collar bone, sucking and teasing. My teeth grazing over your pale skin. My free hand has worked it’s way into your mostly unbuttoned shirt, I run my palm over your nipples.*

🃏 *My nipples are embarrassingly sensitive when you touch me and it causes me to shudder when you run your palm over them. I am shocked at how easily you were able to regain your position.* Fuck Alice… ah! Shhhh…. *I whisper.* Frosty boy… *Points to the front of the car.*

👑 *I whisper into your neck.* Mmm Daddy you’re the one making all the noise. Not me. *I bite down on the flesh right where you neck meets your shoulder.*

🃏 Ahnggg…. Ohhh god! *My hands shoot up to grip the handle at the top of the door and the ceiling panel.*

👑 *I sit back a bit and give you my most innocent stare.* You alright Daddy??

🃏 You know exactly what you are doing don’t you. *I grip your face with both hands and start kissing you and then I throw open your coat and the shirt you are wearing and start kissing your neck and breasts.*

👑 *My head falls back and a low moan escapes my throat* Oh fuck…

🃏 Mmm…. I like the sound of compliance on you. Now who is the one making all that noise? *Turns on the radio to cover your moans.*

👑 Daddy.. how.. how long til we get.. to the club…?? *Words are hard. I’m so wet I can feel it all over my inner thighs.*

🃏 Ten minutes baby doll. I think that’s more than enough time for me to make you squeal! *I grip the tops of your knees and continue kissing your breasts making circles as I tug on your nipples.*

👑 *My hands scramble for the button of your pants. It’s terrible how desperate I’m acting but I need you inside me. I work the pants down past your knees as to not make a mess of them. I settle myself back onto your lap, straddling you as best I can. There’s no time to be coy, I need you now. Without hesitation I sink down onto your cock, you fill me completely.* Ohhh god… Daddy!!

🃏 Oh.. Princess Alice how impatient you are for Daddy’s cock? *I thrust hard and grab onto your ass slamming you down onto me.*

👑 *I practically scream out as our bodies connect. I grab the headrest behind you for leverage and begin riding you at a feverish pace.*

🃏 *Instinctively I grab your throat as you ride me.* Faster Alice, we’re almost there! We wouldn’t want Frost to see this. Or maybe you would?

👑 *I’m lost in the feeling of your thick hard cock as you fill me to the hilt. When your hand tightens around my throat I lose any shred of control I still have.* Ahhhhhhhhh fuck! Joker!!! *My orgasm hits me like a freight train. My movements become erratic, my nails digging into your shoulders.*

🃏 *I relish in your orgasm and as if it was timed the car slows to a halt. I pepper your body with kisses and bites as I continue to thrust into you until I have my own warm release inside of you.* Aliccccceeeee……. Fuck!

👑 *My body is draped across you as I try very hard to bring myself back down to earth. Knowing that Frost will very soon be opening the car door.* Daddy.. I.. I’m sorry… I just couldn’t control myself… *I kiss your cheek tenderly and pull myself off your lap. I let out a whimper as our bodies disconnect.*

🃏 *I let out a satisfied purr and remove my glasses, putting them back into my pocket with a smile.* Glasses huh? I would have put them on sooner if I knew it would turn you into a little lioness.

👑 You should umm.. wear those more often.. you look very distinguished. *I’m still breathing heavy.*

🃏 *I laugh softly* Wait until you see me in the lab.

👑 *I run my fingers through my long hair, making an attempt to not look freshly fucked. I’m sure I’m failing miserably.*

🃏 *The car door opens and it feels as if we’ve both been released from a sauna.*

👑 Oh Daddy if you wanna get out of this car any time soon, you’re gonna have to stop. Fuck…

🃏 *Frost looks at us and tries to stifle a smirk. Your coat is still unzipped slightly and I’m buttoning up my pants with a delighted look on my face. He extends his hand to you but I shoo it away and carry you into the club.*

👑 Poor poor Frost.. *I giggle and hold on as you carry me.* You’re such a gentleman Mr. J.

🃏 *Leans down.* A gentleman and a scholar Miss Alice.

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 23.5

Chapter title: Anybody Happen to know how the Hell To Do This?

A/n:  Eyyy! After two weeks Im back!! Just finished finals and decided hey finish your filler chapter! SO :D ANyway YES THIS IS A FILLER CHAPTER!! Because I couldnt write an actual one and ALSO NEEDED SOME LOGICALITY DEVELOPMENT ANYWAY IM SORRY IT SUCKS AND ENJOY

hi my names maria and i make everything bAD AND DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON :(

First | Previous | Next

words: 3476

summary: Patton and Logan work through some thing

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Law and Courtroom, past trauma, crying and yelling, cursing

Ao3 Link  

The first thought was panic, panic as Patton felt an even heartbeat behind him, an arm securing him. His mind runs to the previous night. A safety around him.

“Where should I put him?” Logan asks, cradling a snoring Remus, struggling to find a comfortable position. Patton looks at his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom, his tired eyes happier than usual.

“He likes the middle” Patton responds, he hears careful shuffling but not justification with an answer. He finishes preparing for his sleep, brushing any stressful knots out of his more than curled hair.  “Log-” He quiets himself, his eyes land on the bed where a confused Remus sits up as Logan mumbles in his dazed state. He stifles a flustered chuckles.

Yet he felt the furthest thing from safe, absolute fear as he stumbles out of bed. Clutching instantly to the plastered walls of his room, his safe haven.

“Come here” He whispers to Remus, he waddles towards him jumping into Pattons arms. He laughs sweetly, placing a gentle kiss on Remus’s head. “Bed?” He asks, Remus nods through a yawn. He glances back at Logan but moves to the twins room, tucking in his son, making sure he feels comfortable, and safe. A promise of protection before he returns to his own room.

“No” He cries in a panicked hush, his palms forced closed. Logan startles awake standing fast as he watches Patton's breathing become unstable. The lawyer moves carefully, keeping a safe distance.

“Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” He hears Logan mutter into the pillow, he covers a giggle before kneeling on the floor in front of the lawyer. He strokes his hair delicately, watching as Logans eyes flutter awake. “Mm?”

“Hi” He greets, the moon sneaking its way into the room. Logan smiles back through his state.

“I should head home” He decides, trying to get out of bed. Patton chuckles, shaking his head.

“Dont be ridiculous, its past midnight” Patton chides “You can stay here” He continues his gentle strokes. Logan musters up the laziest fight, feeling as though he’d only be intruding.

“Pat? Breathe for me?” He requests so gently. Patton nods, recognizing the voice, he watches as Logan approaches him. “You're okay” He assures, Patton loosens but keeps alert. He meets Patton face to face, taking his shaking hands in his own. “Come here” Once Patton eases into Logans hold,  his flinching gone, the lawyer leads him to the couch, wrapping a soft blanket around him.

“Ill go to the couch” Logan concludes, he sits up taking Pattons hands as they face each other.

“Adorable, come on lay back down, Ill get you some tea” Patton offers, Logan hums in satisfaction. He returns to find Logan struggling to keep his eyes open.

He feels safe once more, the familiar feeling returns. Patton remains, squeezing deep into his palms, feeling the pressure of his nails. Logan acts quickly, making a calming tea as he hands it to Patton, sitting in front of the man. Patton sighs, feeling his face heat up. Logan strokes away any loose hairs, covering Patton's shining eyes.

Once the tea is placed Patton situates himself on the other side of the bed, checking his phone before he shuts it off. He feels the bed move ever so slightly as Logan adjusts, his arm meeting Pattons in his deep slumber.  The lawyer waits for his typical reaction, for the deep panic to emerge, the whimpers of desperation, yet it never came. As Logan wrapped his arm around Patton, pulling him closer to his chest, nuzzling as he kissed Pattons neck. The lawyer felt nothing but safe.

“Goodnight love” Logan mumbles, a hot flutter as Patton instantly falls into the name.

“Im sorry” Patton bites his lower lip, Logan releases a sweet chuckle.

“You have nothing to apologize for, really” Logan promises, taking Pattons free hand in his own, the father bites his lip scared to object. Hoping to stop the lawyer from digging any further.  “Was that...something left over?” He hints, Patton averts his sullen gaze.

“I guess, Im sorry” He goes again, feeling stupid as Logan treads around him. Logan leans forward, kissing him softly on the forehead, keeping his protective hold on Patton. “You should go, I'm so sorry” He rambles.

“Patton enough apologizing” Logan begs, trying to keep his worrisome voice under control. Patton shakes his tired head, his eyes barely flinting.

“I'm a mess, you shouldn't have to deal with me” he pouts, rubbing away the gentle tears that begin flowing. Pathetic. You got emotional… “You should go, I am so sorry” He blubbers, every decent or controlling instinct floods away with exhaustion. “You'll get bored, and then you'll resent me and-” He chokes back a sob

“Patton what-”

“I'm afraid I'm not enough for you!” He blurts, his arms squeezing tightly to his chest as they fold over his heart. And there he was, a timid child, so desperate yet so undeserving of validation. Logan falls silent, not sure whether he holds a right to reach out.

“Not enough?” He barely breathes “You are more than enough, you are everything” He takes Patton's cheek. “I think you're just tired, maybe we need to talk about boundaries”

“Boundaries?” Patton tilts his head, Logan bites back a saddened expression, the concept so foreign to the father. He pushes through nodding.

“Yes, for example, when I get rather upset or frustrated I prefer to be left alone” He tells, Patton notes this keeping it locked in his mind. “Now you” Patton raise a brow, furled in confusion as he tries hard to think.

“I...I dont…” He fights to conjure something, to simply please Logan. He slumps his shoulders, resigning his efforts. An overwhelming pit of guilt forming in Pattons stomach but soon his mind clears. He’s not doing this to please Logan, this is for him “I want-” Logan raise his brow “I need you to be patient with me” He states, Logan bites back a proud smile

“Patience, I can do that” Logan agrees, he knows that it doesn't matter but a simple affirmation goes a long way. “What else?” Pattons never gotten this far

“I need you to tell me what you're doing.” Patton continues, though confused Logan nods. He notices the couch begin to shake, Pattons leg taps rhymically.

“Explain” Logan regains his attention

“I need- I just...I want to know what's going to happen.” He attempts to clarify his silly thoughts “If you're going to hug me, tell me. If you're going to hold my hand, let me know. If you're going-” He shakes his head “I just need to know whats going to happen” Patton pleads, not that his partner needs much convincing “It won't always be like that, just, for now...I need to know”

“And that makes perfect sense. You can tell me if you feel the need to but I dont require the same courtesy” Logan assures, Patton finds his honesty comforting “I need there to be space” He adds. Patton waits, playing with the loose strings from his blanket. “I don't want to be coddled or cared for every hour of every day” Somehow they both ease into the room, the warmth returning as it becomes their home, their place. “I need there to be communication, I'm going to take your hand now” He smiles, Patton allows him to do so, grateful for the genuine effort. “I need you to inform me as to what's going on in your head, how you are feeling” He rushes the next part “I know it may take time, but I hope you can try, slowly” A comfortable silence takes place, the pair listen to the morning world as each aspect awakes for the day. Playful fiddling takes place between them, a routine so easy, so familiar, they could perform it should they choose. A storm Logan think has passed, no forming a rainbow in its own time, finds one last raincloud.

“I need to be allowed to… be” Patton barely utters the last word. Logan jerks his head back towards him, watching as the light sparkle of blue averts its gaze. Fearing his own temperament, knowing where this stems, Logan maintains a calm demeanor. “I need to be allowed to be emotional, to feel, to be excited-” He stops his rants, catching a crisp breath. “I need to be me” He realizes, a discovery it seems more for himself, his eyes widening only slightly.

“Patton, I can promise you, under no circumstance will I ever stop or discourage you from being you” He squeezes the mans nervous hands. “You shall never feel that way again, If I can help it.” He takes a sharp but deepened breath. Patton leans forward, connecting their lips of promises and a new hope for them. “I need you to bring me coffee every morning” Logan jokes

“Nice try, love you though” Patton teases leaning forward, an excitement to say the phrase so true and so deep, taking his chin as he kisses him once more. It felt nice, to have it simply happen with no resistance, no feeling of obligation. “Breakfast time” He stands, taking their empty glasses to the kitchen. The even rush of water clearing his scrambled mind. Scrambled...scrambled eggs, he prepares the recipe in his mind.

“Mmm” He hums, pleasant as the calm morning happens. “Oh I hear children” He notes, sweet feet scatter towards him. “Good morning Remus” Logan greets, Valerie rushes by making her way to her father. Remus wastes no time securing himself in Logan's arms.

“Are you my dada now?” He exclaims through a yawn, Logan freezes as Patton drops a shattered glass. Logan jumps up instantly, tightening his hold on Remus.

“Angelface stay back!” Patton rushes, Valerie stops in her tracks, her wide eyes staring curiously. “Lo?” He asks, Logan nods taking Valerie away from the kitchen. Once the danger is cleared away, and a hushed conversation between the lawyers takes place, they sit the twins down on the couch. “Good morning my gems”

“Good morning papa!” They both greet with delighted smiles. Logan watches, trying hard not to let his smile grow. Patton laughs, stroking their messy hair.

“You had a question crabcake, care to explain?” Patton jumps right in, his son buzzing back. Logan fiddles with Valerie's excited feet, he's not sure why but neither seem bothered.

“Because he's my dada now!” Remus giggles “You love him, I love him and he loves me and you which means we’re family! Does that mean hes my dada now?” Remus decides, Patton looks up hoping a threatening flood will stop. Patton sighs, finding it much too early to watch Remus and Valeries hopes dim. ”You always say that love makes a family, no matter what” He grins, his toothy grin melting Patton.

But why should they?

Why should Patton say no?

Because of Logan, this isn't up to him, this is more than just about him

“Oh Remus, I-”

“You're absolutely correct Remus” Logan chimes in, Patton turns to him. “We are family now” He amuses the young boy. Patton takes his cheek kissing him, nodding through the most fragile of tears.

“Fam-ily!” Valerie cheers “I love you” She giggles, squeezing tightly to the two lawyers. Remus joins in soon after both run off to the backyard, to play in the remains of the dewey morning. The pair stand moving to the kitchen, facing each other once more.

“You didn't have to say all that Lo” Patton thanks, fiddling with Logans gentle fingers. “I know we haven't really had a moment to talk about...what all this means. I'm sorry if that put you in an uncomfortable position” Patton breathes

“Love, we can talk about this later, no reason to put them down on this fine morning” Neither phased by the adoring name, Patton finding it quite common really. “In addition, I am not uncomfortable” Logan assures, he kisses Patton's cheek, leaving a very flustered Patton to fall back into his blushed routine.

~~~

“My idea of a perfect family isn't marrying a woman!” Patton argues, Logan cocks his head as he closes the door into Patton's office. The lawyer waves to Logan, frustrated as he paces back and forth. “My children mom! My beautiful twins, the man I love and my friends! That's my family!” He shouts, Logan debates whether he should be upset or if his heart shall beat faster “Mother! Do not come down here!” He scoffs, angrily hanging up the phone, clutching the chair.

“How's your day going love?” Logan jokes, Patton rolls his eyes playfully.

“Haha very funny” Patton purses his lips, Logan smirks at him, flipping through some loose files upon the table. The door creaks open, a sweet assistant peeking her head through. “Whats up Willow?” Patton inquires

“Uhm, I-” She fidgets, her face heating up quickly. Logan adjusts to look at her. “Miss Bernard would like to speak to mister Tolentino” She swallows, Logan stands cautious but looks to Patton first. Both prepared to rejoin in the hallway but it seems the young lawyer has her own plans. She steps in, taking a grim look around.

“Thank you Willow” She looks to the assistant, was that a hint of mockery?

“Thank you Willow” Willow repeats clearly deriding her words, both sharing a solid glance before the assistant removes herself, bored of the high and mighty. An amused glance is shared between the men but Diana carries on.

“What can I do for you Diana?” Patton inquires with a smile, fully aware of her intent to question Logan. He upholds his kindness, knowing things don't have to be strictly business.

“Must you be so nice” She jokes, her relief setting in “Unfortunately Patton Im here to talk to mister Tolentino. Seeing as he was-”

“Your predecessor on the case?” Logan finishes, interjecting with his formulated words. Diana nods in agreement. “Makes sense to me, would you care to follow me to my office?” He stands, dusting off his prim outfit. She smiles uneasy, finding his presence less comforting then the shining one of Patton. Logan turns to Patton, leaning over the desk to kiss him sweetly on his soft cheek. “Dinner?”

“Dinner” Patton concludes, returning his focus to his work as the two lawyers leave him.

Diana walks silently alongside Logan, skipping through the marbled halls, playing her own game. The lawyers find no qualms but no connection, simply they are, as two isolating figures.

“Owo we have to set boundaries!! Oh Patttttooooonnnnn” Roman mocks in the utmost nasally voice he can conjure. Logan sighs as they continue walking. Roman joins their journey, skipping delighted.

“I'm going to slap you” He threatens, Roman laughs, shaking his head.

“Do it coward, I dare you” The judge challenges, Logan stops them in their path. Staring right into the previously fiery eyes, now filled with an amber fear. “You should know Patton tells me everything”

“Not to be made fun of I presume?” Logan contradicts, Roman rolls his eyes nudging the lawyer. “That's what I thought” He holds his head up high

“Dude, i'm just screwing with you, I think its good” Roman assures, Diana hums softly on her end. Finding no place in this conversation she skims her files. “Miss Bernard” Roman greets

“Your honor” She breathes, a hint of annoyance. The two actually present themselves quite similarly, Logan notices. “Mister Tolentino I hate to interrupt but I do have a lot of work to get to-”

“Yes, I understand, apologies” Logan laments, turning to a gazing Roman “Roman, I will talk to you later” He nods, the judge walks away seemingly joining an idle James by the fountain.  A sweet kiss shared between them, Logan raises an eyebrow but continues walking. Once they've reached his office, the shift in temperature hits the young lawyer quickly. A chill runs down her spine, tensing it as Logan barely glances her way. “Please, do sit” He offers, however his tone commands. But she does, and soon they face off yet seemingly on the same team.

~~~

“City councilman?” Patton breathes softly into the phone. He listens, though silent, his mind practically stretches with his thoughts. He walks through the crowded halls, frantic as he packs away his things. “No I mean..Im..I need to-” Cut off by more opportunities and new journeys, he smiles at a patient Logan who waits by reception. “yes , no Leo I understand-” He bites his lower lip, shaking his head “Got it, thanks”

“Everything alright?” Logan checks, taking his hand as he approaches. Feeling his anxieties wash away, dripping to the floor, feeling safe in Logan's touch. He leans in kissing his cheek, the softest of skin.

“Yeah, let's get to dinner” He pushes the other things out of his mind, watching his worries and questions seep away, himself leaning into the security of Logans gentle, curious smile. It doesn't take too long, besides the constant checking in with Virgil and the twins the ride itself is peaceful. The lawyers find themselves settled into the restaurant fast enough.

“I think it would be in our best interest to get right into business, as to enjoy the dinner once we have concluded our discussion” Logan advises, tapping the table. Patton sets down his water nodding.

“I couldn't agree more” Patton traces the brim, listening to the faintest hum from the glass. “So…” He drags it out, Logan smirks under the dimmest of lights.

“The kids” Patton states

“Yes you have them” Logan replies, knowing his words were silly. He was nervous, he wasn’t sure how to approach this, how to express a certain desire he assumed would go away but stuck through. “I would like, through the course of our relationship and however that might progress, to be apart of their lives” he explains, Patton keeps his face. He loved Logan, truly, but his kids would always come first. Every person who had even the tiniest place in their lives Patton made sure that for whatever he could do that they were safe and happy. Now he knew Logan and he knew he wanted him in their lives. But that was then, that was when he knew what he would be doing, now things change. To be blunt, now he isn’t just looking at a friend and caretaker, he’s looking at someone who’s going to be around for awhile, someone who will raise and discipline and love his kids.

“A father” he whispers, realizing to himself. Logan only hears the whistle of his soft words but not the substance. “Logan I don’t doubt that, but do you understand what you’re getting into?” He wasn’t just looking out for his kids, he wanted Logan to understand. He could be jeopardizing his relationship, his everything with Logan but he’s not going to allow the man to end up with something he doesn’t want, can’t handle or doesn’t make him happy.

“I don’t think I do either” Logan admits, he leans forward “But I don’t you did when you first had them. It’s a learning process, a place to grow.” Patton goes to rebut but Logan moves fast “And that is what you have to be understanding, that is what you have to be willing to do. Wanting to do” he breathes “and I want to. I want to learn, I want to be, in the most forward of terms, a parent” Patton inhales gently, soft breath not filling his mind quickly enough. “If you’ll let me and if you want me to” he adds, reaching out a hand, ready to receive. Biting his lower lip Patton takes the hand.

“Congratulations, you’ve got the job” He jokes, though forced his voice chuckles. Something sits uneasy with him, it’s not Logan it’s simply his uncertainty. He doesn’t know where to go from here, how does one go from being a friend to someone you love, who will be around, who your kids will see and soon enough see them as more than just ‘Dads friend’. Wide eyes as the reality set in, Patton didn’t know how to do this anymore. He had been on his own for so long, through every late night, every sickness, every fight, every tantrum and every tear. He didn’t know how to share that with someone, how to let them in.

He didn’t know how to let it be a good thing

How to let his previous fears wash away and embrace that maybe someone really wants to love him and care for him, and he can do the same without the fear of obligation. Someone who wants his kids as much as he does, to sit through those nights, to snuggle as they watch movies, to help when they get too much.

He didn’t know

And that frightened him

[homesoutofhuman]

Hunter’s Lullaby - John Wick/Reader

jinxed-lynxs-blog said:Not sure if a Kink, but john being the assassin he is, i guess you could call it a hunt kink? Where his partner will hide either house or property/forest, and he has to track them down?

I don’t know if this was a request but I couldn’t resist writing something for it! I used some parts for a piece I wrote years ago because I’m lazy. Also not really proof read, written half asleep while I’m waiting for RDR2 to download.

Warnings: rough sex, being chased?, very bad words.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash - Hozier, Arsonist’s Lullaby

John is restless. He hasn’t been on a mission in a while, in fact, since you’ve been together. You’ve never told him to stop, but you can sense he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, coming home late at night covered in bruises and blood that isn’t his. The novelty of domestic life suits him, he likes cuddling with you, lazy mornings, making you coffee, reading by the fire in the evening while you attempt to come up with creative ways to make him kiss you and take you to bed.

Tonight though, you watch his profile as he reads, see his eyes flick over the same page several times, unseeing. He fidgets his knee up and down and slides his hand over his beard, tapping a long finger against his top lip. He’s so handsome, warm looking, alluring, and you realise with a rush that goes from your head to your groin that you want him.

“John.” you say, breaking the taut silence of the room, making the man in front of you start a little, before drawing himself back from the darkness of his thoughts to focus on you.

“I want us to play a game.”

He stares at you while you explain your idea, smirking first with amused adoration, then slightly patronising as he tilts his head. “Hide and seek baby? With me that wouldn’t be much of a game.”

“No John.” shaking your head you stand and stretch your limbs, revelling in the way John’s dark eyes track your movements. “I want you to hunt me.”

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

Bad ideas always start with good intentions, and as you’re wedged under the bed you are starting to regret this one. Dust in your throat, you press a hand over your mouth to stifle a cough. You barely even hear John enter the room before he’s grabbed you by your ankle and dragged you out, staring down at you with that amused smirk, still slightly pitying in tone. It enrages you and you pull out of his grasp, leaning against the bed, pouting.

John laughs slightly and shrugs. “You’re going to have to try harder than that…”

“Fine, but you’re not taking this seriously.” you say sulkily.

“Should I be?” John looks puzzled then, searching your eyes for answers. Breathlessly, shyly, you attempt to explain. “Yes, I want it to be real, I want to be scared John.”

“You don’t ever need to be scared of me.” he answers, reflex quick and you shake your head, squeezing his shoulder. “I know that, idiot.” you stall, lost for words and John assesses you, taking in your squirming form, your heated cheeks, and slowly nodding in response.

“Since you called me an idiot you better run extra fast.” he almost growls then, his eyes gone impossibly dark.

“Fuck…” you breathe, his growl vibrating along your spine and setting your skin tingling. John grabs your chin and tilts your face up so you can look into his eyes. You see nothing but love, understanding and acceptance.

“Run sweetheart.” he says.

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

Using your head start you make for the back door, almost falling out of it you know if you hurt yourself or twist your ankle John will never play this game with you again. Bearing this in mind you run carefully through the leaves and into the small group of trees of the edge of the cabin that you and John share. The darkness of the forest is different to that of the garden, where the grass was  illuminated by light from the moon. In here, the air is thicker, the darkness taking on a heavy quality, it’s almost alive. The moon cuts through the trees like a knife blade, showing you a pathway. A branch scratches your arm as you move and you wince, but push on. Not too far away you hear the sound of the door being flung open, John is on your trail.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you mutter out loud, almost forgetting that the whole point of the game is for John to find you. Suddenly it feels very real. After all, John is a assassin, a killer, he can take on any number of men and survive, using both stealth and skill. One girl is nothing to him, a speck of dirt that is easily rubbed out. Reminding yourself this man loves you and would never hurt you doesn’t stop the pounding in your heart as you pause at a fallen tree, wondering if you can fit inside. You realise the game is exciting you just as much, even though you’ve done this for John, to help his boredom, you feel simultaneously afraid and aroused, it’s confusing as hell.

When people hide on TV or in films it’s never so messy. You cringe as dirt slides over your skin from the tree, matted leaves catch in your hair and your legs are awkwardly twisted. Still, you’re inside the rotted trunk, and you’re hidden, at least to regular human eyes. You don’t have to lay still for long before you hear John coming. He is not attempting to be quiet, but is humming under his breath, almost taunting you.

“I’m coming to get you little girl…” he sing-songs and you bite your lip not to whimper.

His footsteps pause, and you imagine him, scanning the trees for any sign of you. The urge to see him in his hunter pose is too much and you peak out through a crack in the tree trunk, you can’t resist a look, even if it costs you the game. John is stood, all in black, almost merging with the darkness of the forest. His attitude has changed, and he looks nothing like the soft, charming man you’re used to living with. His shoulders are tight, like a crossbow pulled back, his strong thighs bent slightly, his hands twitching by his sides, as if craving a weapon to hold. He is smiling, but his eyes are two black focused darts, sweeping the scene like a laser beam.

It is amazing to see him like this, and as he moves towards you in one smooth, animalistic movement fear combines with desire, licking up the bottom of your spine. Almost ripping the tree apart he unearths you, pulling you out from your hiding place, his hands under your armpits, lifting you as if you’re a child, or a rag doll.

“I told you to run” he murmurs, the look in his eyes is dangerous, his chest is heaving with panting breaths, his voice is rough and low and betrays his arousal even if you couldn’t see the outline of his cock pressing hard against his fly.

“I did” you whimper as he glares and bends his head to kiss you, passionate  and unrelenting, nipping your bottom lip viciously.

“Not far enough, not fast enough.”

“I tried John, let me up…” you struggle intentionally weak against him and he holds you easily with a snide look in his eyes.

“Are you serious? I won the game...I get my prize…”

“Your prize? Oh... “ you words dissolve into a shameless moan as John simultaneously bites your neck and pushes away your clothes, roughly groping your breasts and pinching your nipples

Unable to resist any longer you move your fingers to his zipper and pull him out, hot and throbbing against your palm as you stroke him. John’s mouth falls open as he lets out a quiet whine, moving his larger hand on top of yours to force you to speed up your strokes. He seems to want it rough, and you feel exactly the same way.

His hands hold you easily, cupping your spine as he lays you down on a patch of dry leaves. John crawls on top of you, his hips jerking a little as if of their own accord, rutting against like a wild creature in his need. “Put your hands over your head.” he commands with an authority and you nod, following the direction, twisting them together as if bound, and looking up at him imploringly.

Pinning you with a glare he kisses you again moving his hand inside your underwear he swears when he finds you soaking, pushing two fingers inside you desperate to feel your heat, before he regains control of himself and moves them teasingly in and out, never quite hard or deep enough. “I see...you like this, you like the chase?”

“I like being caught.” you pant, trying to grind down against his hand hard enough to get yourself off.

“Turn over.” he groans. “If you like being hunted like an animal I’m going to fuck you like one.”

Thrilled, you get yourself on all fours, glad to be off the hard ground, you wonder somewhere in the back of your mind if John is doing this for your comfort. He crouches over you and you hear the clink of metal as he undoes his belt, the sound sending an unexpected bolt of arousal through you, he pulls back on your hips so your ass is cushioned against him and pushes inside you with one smooth stroke, not waiting to let you adjust before starting to move.

Your breath is stolen and your close your eyes trying to get some control of your body. John won’t seem to let you however, moving his fingers between your legs and rubbing your clit as he moves in a figure of eight inside you. You scramble for a purchase but he just holds you, fucking into you and you have no choice just to let him bounce you on his cock, let him touch you until you can practically feel a fire ball building in your cunt.

“John! Fuck...let me…” you plead, not sure what you’re begging for as he slides one hand up your throat . Your thighs are pressed together making you feel even tighter to him, and the sounds he is making in your ear, the filth spilling from this usually reticent man’s mouth gives you a clue he is lost just as you are. 

“Scream all you want, no one can hear you out here...” John mutters in your ear. The words are rich with praise as he urges you towards your climax both with words and the never ending stroke of his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Bucking back against him you let yourself go, clenching around him and riding out the pleasure for as long as you can as it strums through your veins like a drug. John holds you as you come apart, pausing just to revel in the sensations before his primal need surfaces once more, grasping your shoulders he thrusts a few more brutal times then comes inside you, the evidence of his claim on you trickles down your inner thigh.

John lays on top of you on the forest floor for a few moments before he comes back to himself, realising you’re both outside at night on damp leaves amongst bugs and god knows what else he gives a pained bellow and pulls you up. Your knees shake shamefully and you lean into his solid side with a grateful sigh. He helps you back to the house and shoves you in front of the fire, not speaking while he fusses round you, washing the dirt off your face with a warm washcloth, picking the leaves out of your hair and frowning at the scratches on your arms as if they personally offended him.

“I’m okay…” you reassure him, your eyes heavy with post coital bliss, loving him more than ever. You wonder how you can convince him that you enjoyed the game and that you are not so breakable as he thinks. John knows you well though, and as he lifts you up to bed and curls around you, making you feel tiny and safe he licks at your ear, sending a thrill of lust through your exhausted body. “We are definitely doing that again…” Squealing with glee you hug him tighter to you and sleep, happy in the knowledge you have a man who is willing to take such good care of you, but also able to fuck you into the ground if you ask for it.

When you wake, late the next morning, stretching luxuriously in the knowledge you have a day off work. You are alone, but turn your head to see a note from John on the pillow.

This time, you have to find me...

[synthsoup]

reunited (gendry x reader)

Request : - heyyy could you write a gendry x reader where they used to be together but got split up. she thought he left her so she was upset. and they both ended up at winterfell. she sees him but he doesnt see her until a few moments before the battle

Words : 1.2K

***

You stand in the crowd, cold air fluttering gently across your face, contorted in an expression you only know as a mixture of relief, confusion, and a bit of anger. The air is almost completely silent, the only thing to be heard is the movement of metal and horse hooves on sturdy stone ground. You had stifled a gasp when you caught sight of his stern looking features, and in a quick moment they were gone from you again.

You hadn't made eye contact with Gendry, but you wanted to. You could remember the last time you saw his piercing eyes, disguised by the dark of a silent night in the forest. You remembered clearly the months you had spent together after escaping from Kings Landing, you ended up traversing through the woods far longer than intended, and became very close in that time. The whispers around burning embers of an extinguished fire, holding each other both unable to sleep and knowing the other was awake but not acknowledging it.

You’d almost kissed once. You’d very very narrowly escaped death from a wolf, bigger than one you had ever seen in your life. It was just about to take your head off after tearing up your left hand, and your ankle was sprained from the wolf tackling you to the ground. When Gendry managed to shove it off you, by the grace of the gods you’d both managed to outrun it. When you couldn’t run anymore he carried you, and when it appeared safe he gently set you down beside a tree.

In his eyes mixed in between the panic and fear was something else, and as he desperately brushed the hair out of your face you had grabbed his hand with your still working one and reassured him. That is, before you had passed out due to blood loss.

The memory of your noses touching lingered, but your hand had long since healed. You snapped out of your thoughts, quickly shaken out of your state as the crowd began to disperse. Over already? You shake your head to yourself, you could feel the tension in the air as the newcomers begin to spread throughout Winterfell.

You head to your small cottage of a house, and light a small fire as you sit on a rug. You had to see him didn’t you? It hurt, sure it did. The presence of what he did was always in your thoughts, it never truly faded. Maybe he thought he was doing something good when he left. All you knew was three days after the wolf attack, you’d woken and he was gone. Absolutely no sign of Gendry, and you’d thought the worst. You’d begun to suspect he was dead before dawn, until you came across the tiniest slip of parchment. it contained the words, “Y/N, i’m sorry.”

You were just as frustrated now as you were then. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Sorry for what? Sorry for leaving? Well damn right, but he surely took no care to elaborate. You had walked the rest of the distance to Winterfell alone, and you’d never been one to let out a tear for no reason, but you did on the way there. Despite the curl of your lip that made itself known every time you think of what he did to you, abandoned you, you wanted to see him. You wanted the same feeling you got when he would grasp on to your hand like he needed you, the way he would listen to you like no one else ever had, the way he would brush his hand through your hair, slowly regrowing to your collarbone.

It was long past twilight, and you closed the front door to your residence. You made your way to where the weapons were being made and distributed, you were going to make yourself useful at least, and maybe, maybe you would see him. On the chance you would, your heart ached.

You were making your way around the blacksmiths, walking quickly,  and unsurprisingly you almost rammed head on into Gendry’s chest. Of course just as you remembered, he was still significantly taller than you.

“Hey, caref-” he begins but cuts himself off as he meets your eyes. His eyes widen quickly as yours narrow, and his grip on your shoulders tighten but he doesn’t step back. in fact you’re the one pushing him away.

“Gendry.” You breathe with equal amounts anger and relief, eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/N. I thought-  I didn’t  know if i’d ever see you-’

“Stop.”

“What? I-”

“Stop.” you say firmly.

“Gendry, I don’t even- I mean I can’t simply ignore what you did. You left me-”

“Y/N I know how you must feel about this, but you must know I thought the Brotherhood -’

“I know Gendry, you think people don’t talk? That’s not what bothers me.” you were beginning to lose composure at this point and took a small gasp of air.

“I just felt alone. Like you didn’t care at all and I know that-”

“Let me talk Y/N.” He says as he grabs your hands in his, breathing fast trying to regain control over his features.

“I did what I thought was right, and let me tell you that not a day has gone by when i don’t think about how I- I left you. I regret it, truly.”

Your throat had begun to close up and you look up at his eyes, still blue as the sky. You see his bottom lip tremble slightly and you throw your arms around him as he lifts you into the air.

“I just missed you.” you whisper into the crook of his neck.

And before you can say another word he places you down and as you feel his muscles rippling as you move your hands down his back, and he kisses you. You move one hand back up to the nape of his neck, and both of his hold your waist and pull you closer. His lips are softer than they should be you think, and as the pair of you attempt to close the nonexistent space between yourselves, your back arches into him perfectly and you think you can be nothing less than contempt.

Eventually you break apart for air, but he doesn’t weaken his grip on you for a second and you bring your hands to his cheeks.

“I regretted everyday not telling you that I love y- I love you Y/N. Every year that went by was torture.” He says, and though you sense he wants to grasp on to some more intricate words for you, those are more than enough.

You gently brush your finger over the space in between his still furrowed eyebrows, something you had gotten into the habit of dong so many years ago, and he relaxes quickly under your touch. “I love you too, Gendry.”

The words didn’t feel like any big revelation, you knew they’d been there the whole time, waiting to show themselves.

The battle of Winterfell was to start any moment now. The moments leading up to it were so far being spent in his arms, and if you could both make it out of this alive, that would be enough.

***

Requests Open!

[rhabakoli]

A lil something

@dreamwritesimagines There you go. Also, I hope your anon likes it, I’ve been better, I swear.  @marauderskeeper just adding you here, in case you wanted to see, you know. 

When you stood in front of Ivars bedchamber, you were ready to turn around and run for the hills. Yes, you were nervous. He’d said your skills in bed were unremarkable. In your defense, you were a virgin, until that first night with him. But you did need to bring an heir into this world, so he’d have to deal. You straightened your back, held your head high and took another deep breath. When you felt ready, you pushed the door open. Ivar was already in bed, reading some papers. When he heard the heavy wood move, he put them down and opened his mouth to cuss at whoever dared to come in. But then he recognized your figure. His face fell, he looked panicky for a second, before he reeled himself in and sat up straighter. “What do you want?”  You needed a moment to gather your wits. It had been a while since you saw his naked torso. And, by the Gods. He really was built like one.  You then remembered yourself and moved your eyes up to his face. Despite the chilled attitude you’ve presented last time you saw him, you didn’t trust yourself to talk.  Instead, you dropped your furs and went over to his side. You could feel his eyes on your figure, wandering up and down your body. The shivers going through you weren’t just caused by the chill room. You remembered last time very well. As did your body, apparently.  The papers on his lap were taken care of quickly. “Y/N-” Ivar swallowed thickly, his hands gripping the furs on his bed tightly, knuckles going white.. “What are you doing?” He didn’t really have to ask. He knew very well, and his body was just as much a traitor as yours was. His eyes roamed over your naked body, tracked your every move as you slipped off the nightgown and set a knee on the bed.  Ivar wasn’t resisting, or asking again. He just watched you with his piercing blue eyes, until you thought you’d melt. It was not fair. How could he still have such an effect on you? But, alas, you weren’t the only one feeling affected. You smirked, when you lifted the blankets. He was hard already. Maybe he was a liar after all.  You crawled over him, straddling his thighs and sat back for a moment.  You needed this. You wanted to see the look of adoration on his face, and if it was just for one last time. And, Gods, if he wasn’t absolutely delivering. He looked unsure, but at the same time there was such a look of wonder and reverence on his face, you had trouble breathing.  “Y/N.” He breathed your name. It sounded so precious and treasured when he said it. No trace of betrayal and anger. His hands came up to settle on your thighs. Quickly, you took his wrists and put them back on the bed.  “No.”  It was quiet, but you knew he heard it. You knew just by looking at his face. Blue eyes darkened, pupils blown, lips parted in an attempt to regain breath and control over his body. He nodded.  Slowly, oh so slowly you stood up on your knees and went closer. With one hand you grabbed the headboard next to his head, with the other you guided him inside you.  A sharp intake of breath and a stifled moan filled the air between you, but you honestly couldn’t say if it was your own or his. You were in no hurry, so you took your time taking him in. He was big, just as everything else about him.  You didn’t realize you had closed your eyes, until his whole length was in you. It had taken a while, but you managed. 

At a dull knock you looked down. Ivars knuckles were white, his hands fisted in the furs, biceps bulging. His head was leaned back against the beds wood, he was biting his lip, and his eyes were still on you. He looked like he was about to devour you, conquer you and probably get a couple orgasms out of you in the process. You had to suppress a moan at that. You couldn’t let him take over, you just couldn’t. So, you started moving. Instantly, Ivars lips opened and he let out a shuddering moan. You hid a smile and leaned you head back, so all he could see was vast expanse of soft skin, he wasn’t allowed to touch. You could feel him react to your antics, and you grew bolder. To know you made him feel like that, made him look like he did, aroused and almost desperate, made you proud. Which was not the best move, in light of recent events, but you couldn’t help it. You moved your hips up and down, in circles, and dipped them in search for that one spot, that made you see stars last time. The room was filled with moans, harsh, heavy breathing and the sound of sex. “Gods, you-”  A particular harsh hip dip made him gasp and stop. His hands came up, up to your hip. His fingers were digging into your skin and he cursed. At you, at the world, the Gods, at himself, you’d never know.  You stopped, snatched his hands from your body and pressed them down into the bed again. “I said no.”  He jumped inside you, you could feel it, and it felt amazing, He looked at you like a mad man nostrils flaring, jaw tensing. He released a breath through the nose,trying to calm himself. His fists opened, and he turned his wrists in your grip, presenting his hands to you. In a moment of weakness, you let him slip his fingers between yours.  Until now, he had been fighting to stay passive and let you find your rhythm. But not anymore. When you started moving, he did too. His stomach clenched and released with every thrust, a couple of times even hard enough to make you fall forward.  “Y/N, I swear to Odin, to Thor, I swear to whoever you seem fitting, I will never hurt you, again.”  His hold on your hands grew stronger. “I will- ah--”  You had freed one hand from his and buried it in his hair. Pulling his head back, you planted a fierce, hard kiss on his lips, over way too soon, but enough to make him feel lightheaded. “Stop. Talking.”  His eyes grew darker, his pupils blown enough to make them seem black. “You are a goddess.”  You moved your hips faster, leaned back a bit, hand still in his hair and let out a deep moan, when he hit the spot you’ve been looking for. A shiver went through your body and you were chasing it like an addict. Faster and faster, moaning louder, more frequent, you didn’t care anymore if anyone heard. You wanted this feeling to last longer. Sweaty thighs sliding against each other, white knuckles and Ivar praising you. The air was saturated with your combined smells, with the sound of slick skin, the bed creaking. And suddenly, there it was. Hot, sharp needles starting in your toes and fingertips, that’s when you knew it would be over very soon. A smile sneaked onto your lips, it felt wonderful. And when it hit, it hit hard. You fell forward like a lifeless doll, head on Ivars shoulder as he chased his orgasm himself, shivers wracking through your body and you had no mind to control it. When was the last time you where this relaxed?  Satisfied, you turned your head and buried your nose in the skin there, still lazily circling your hips. Somewhere in the back of your hazy mind, you recognized the feeling of warmth filling you.  Ivar let your hand go, grabbed your hair, mirroring your move from before and angled you head up, so he’d be able to kiss you. “You.”  He kissed you again, softer, loving. “You are everything.”  His voice brought you back into reality. With a sigh, you sat up. His hand were back on your cheeks in an instant, caressing your skin, handling you like you were made of glass.  But if you’d been made of glass, his care came too late.  You got off him, off the bed and picked up your nightgown. It hurt you, how couldn’t it? But it had to be.  “Y/N? What are you doing?”  “Going back to my room.” You picked up the fur and heard Ivar scrambling over the furs and to the edge of the bed to get to you. His hand landed on your elbow.  “What do you mean, we just- we just-”  God, he couldn’t even say it.  “I was merely fulfilling my duty as Queen of Kattegat, your Grace.” Those words made him freeze. His hand fell limbly from your arm, eyes big and round, unbelieving. You wisely used this moment to escape his bedchamber.

You were almost back in your own room, when a furious roar, not unlike that of a hurt animal, filled the air. Your feet moved faster, as you felt the tears come. No one should see you like this, least of all Ivars brothers, who surely were up and on their way already. You needed the security of your own bed, one that didn’t smell like Ivar, to cry in peace. Before you slipped in, you stopped. You smelled like him. For a short moment you thought about getting a servant to prepare a bath for you, but then you decided against it. Just one more night. You’d take a bath in the morning and Gala would change the sheets. You’d handle it tomorrow, but tonight you wanted burrow in his scent and dream of happier times.

Little did you know that Ivar had the same plan.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Reunion

Summary: Shiro’s reunion with Adam doesn’t go at all how he expected.

Also on AO3 and fanfiction.net

I wanted to write something cute between these two before Season 7 arrives and breaks my heart into ten-thousand pieces. No, I haven’t watched any part of episode 1. In fact, I���ve been trying to avoid all spoilers. Yes, I realize writing this is probably going to ruin that attempt.

Basically, everything I put in here is based on what I’ve seen from the trailer and from what brief little bit I know of Shiro and Adam’s relationship. (Which is almost nothing.)

I’ll say it now; the bonus section is silly and probably mildly-out-of-character for everyone.

Reunion

There was only one person on Shiro's mind when they got back to Earth. It only intensified when they learned that Sendak's forces had arrived ahead of them, terrorizing the threatening the human population in their absence. The knowledge that the Galaxy Garrison had opened its door as a shelter and that similar shelters had been opened across the planet, gave him only a small measure of relief.

He had so many other things he needed to worry about. So many other things that needed to be done, if they were going to beat back Sendak. He and the other paladins, with their expertise in fighting the Galra and knowledge of alien tech, were more useful working with Iverson and the other commanding officers of the Garrison. And he knew that, but still...

Shiro tried to cast a fifth inconspicuous look around in an attempt to find him. When he returned to the conversation, Sam Holt gave him a knowing look.

“Go find him, Shiro,” he said. “You won't have any peace until you do.”

Shiro blushed at how transparent his desires apparently were, at least to Sam, but he had a good point. He honestly couldn't remember half of what they were talking about, and his exhaustion was only part to blame. He looked to the other paladins, taking in the way Lance was leaning heavily against Hunk, who'd spent the past ten minutes drifting off to sleep, only to jerk back away. Pidge was swaying on her feet and Shiro would worry about her falling over if it weren't for the fact that Keith was next to her, keeping a sleepy but wary eye on her. Allura kept fidgeting with her hands in a desperate attempt to stay away and keep focused. Even Coran and Krolia were struggling, and poor Romelle, so determined to stay alert, looked as though she was about to drop.

“Alright team, get some rest. We'll pick this up again in a few hours,” Shiro told them.

“What about you?” Keith asked.

“There's something I have to do first. I won't be long,” Shiro promised.

Keith looked like he wanted to argue more, but kept his mouth shut and nodded. Shiro suspected if he took longer than fifteen minutes, Keith would personally hunt him down and drag him back to where they were sleeping.

After a quick word with Sam, he set off, making his way through the crowd.

Before Kerberos, people would stop and stare because he was The Takashi Shirogane, ace pilot, and poster child of the Galaxy Garrison. They stared because of the respect he commanded and the awe he inspired.

With his return, they stared at a broken man; a ghost of who he once was in more than just appearance.

Shiro ignored them all and focused on his goal.

He needed to see for himself that Adam was okay. It didn't matter how things ended between them. It didn't matter if Adam turned him away. What did matter was seeing him alive and unharmed.

Shiro could only stop and watch him, caught off-guard by the sudden rush of emotions that hit him when he saw Adam again for the first time in two years. He was talking to a group of cadets, paying no attention to anything else around him, which gave Shiro ample time to regain control. He'd seen all he needed, but something held him there, rooted to that spot.

And then Adam looked over. Absolute disbelief colored his face, his eyes going wide as he hurriedly began pushing his way through the crowd with a growing desperation. He stopped just before Shiro, taking a moment to look at him.

“Takashi?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Shiro smiled sadly back. “Hey, Adam.”

Adam sobbed and took Shiro completely by surprise when he threw his arms around him, holding him tight and close. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I wished I could have taken it back the moment you left. I never should have said those things to you. I never should have made you feel like you had to choose. I'm so sorry!”

Shiro could only hold onto him with his remaining arm, stifling his own tears into Adam's shoulder. “You're still here,” he mumbled, barely managing to get the words out.

Adam shuddered as he dragged in a breath and drew back slightly to get a better look at Shiro's face. He reached up to caress along his jawline and trace a finger across the scar on the bridge of his nose, as if trying to reassure himself that he wasn't imagining him; Shiro really was there, alive, in front of him.

“I'm not going anywhere, Takashi. I love you.”

Shiro closed his eyes. It was so much more than he expected. So much more than he deserved. He opened his eyes again, gazing at the face of the man he still loved with all of his heart. “Marry me?”

Seconds stretched on as Adam stared up at him with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted in surprise. “I...” His voice broke, but he pressed on. “No fair. That's no fair, Takashi. I had this whole plan. This whole, stupid proposal planned out and here you are, asking before I can get the chance to,” Adam said. A tiny, hysterical laugh bubbled up, but he was smiling, his eyes glistening with fresh tears.

Shiro could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You had a plan?”

“I did. It was a week after you left. I had this whole vision of what I'd do when you came back. How I'd go to the Garrison to see you land and be one of the first to welcome you home. Then I'd get down on one knee and... and ask you to marry me.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Shiro whispered. “Much better than mine. I'm sorry I ruined it.”

Adam shook his head. “You haven't ruined anything. You came home to me, even after everything I said. I don't deserve you.”

Shiro's heart twisted in his chest at Adam's words. It would be so easy to respond the same – to start a back-and-forth of who was less deserving of the other. (After all, Shiro had left first when he chose the Kerberos mission over Adam.) But he didn't want that. He had to believe that they were equally deserving of each other, or else what was the point?

“We both deserve this. This is our second chance and I'm going to take it. I just need to know that you feel the same.”

“Yes,” Adam said without hesitation. He raised up on tiptoe, sliding his hand to the back of Shiro's neck, guiding him in for a long, overdue kiss. When they both pulled away, breathless, Adam playfully ran his fingers through Shiro's short hair.

“So, uh, about your new look...”

“What, you don't like the hair? I think it makes me look distinguished,” Shiro joked.

“Ha,” Adam said dryly. “As your fiance, I think I'm going to have to insist that you dye it. Everyone's going to think I'm in love with an old man.”

Fiance.

Shiro couldn't stop a grin from breaking out across his face at the word. Pure elation swelled in his chest and he couldn't help but swoop in for another kiss. And then another. And another. Until Adam was laughing from the number of kisses being planted all over his face.

Somewhere between them all, Shiro managed to whisper: “I love you.”

BONUS

“Hi, I'm Adam. Shiro's fiance.”

Lance spat out the food goo he was eating, eliciting a disgruntled glare from Hunk, who was both disgusted by his friend's lack of manners and the waste of their precious food supplies. Pidge looked between Shiro and Adam with mild surprise, ignoring whatever was happening next to her. Allura and Coran looked excited by the news, while Krolia and Romelle appeared curious. And Keith...

“Well it's about time,” Keith said, staring at Adam, who shook his head and pointed to Shiro. “Seriously? You two are a disaster.”

“Keith,” Shiro chastised, though he sounded too amused for it to be effective. He paused as a thought occurred to him and he frowned at the current Black Paladin. “Wait, why did you think it was Adam who proposed?”

“Because I helped pick out the rings.”

It was Shiro's turn to be surprised as he turned to face Adam. “You got us rings?”

Adam nodded. “Well, I did say my plan was to propose to you the moment you got back. Most people do that with a ring.”

“Shiro, you proposed without getting him a ring? What kind of example are you trying to set for the rest of us?” Pidge teased, too amused to sound properly (albeit fakely) scandalized by the whole thing.

Shiro buried his face in his remaining hand in sheer embarrassment. “It was spur of the moment, okay?”

“Now, now. Leave Shiro alone,” Allura said, coming to his rescue. “I'm sure it was all very romantic and Adam doesn't seem upset. So how did you ask? Give us all of the the details!”

Adam tried not to laugh at Shiro's misery at the line of questioning, but failed. “Oh yes, it was very romantic. I told him I loved him and his response was 'marry me?'”

There was a momentary uproar as Pidge and Keith couldn't contain their laughter. Lance was quick to get over his temporary confusion and had moved on to bemoaning their leader's apparent lack of romance skills.

“Awww,” Hunk cooed.

Which was followed by a brief silence and an unexpected “Hunk, what the fuck?” from Pidge. And then the noise resumed, with Lance calling out Pidge for her foul mouth while Hunk argued his defense.

Adam pressed a quick kiss to Shiro's cheek. “Don't worry, babe. We'll get the rings and have a better proposal story before we tell our parents.”

[wolfandwild]

1, 33, 35

For prompts: 1, 33, and 35 - ‘wounded’, ‘death’, and ‘insomnia’. Some cheery choices there, Anon!

I thought about writing three pieces, but then in a stroke of inspiration at 4:00AM, I kind of had an idea to do all three prompts in one. Set somewhere between ‘Lion’s Triumph’ and ‘Lion’s Rise’. Content warnings for torture and panic attacks.

Unbroken

Auriana dreamed.

She was somewhere cold and dark; a place that the light had never truly touched. Blood - her blood - seeped into the cracks of the rough stone floor, mingling with the stained tears of a thousand prisoners before her. Her entire body felt as if it were burning and freezing all at once, and she could barely move an inch in any direction without a wave of seething agony ripping through her body. Worst of all, arcane shackles bound her wrists, cutting off the flow of her precious magic and leaving her entirely without hope of respite or escape.

In a strange way, the loss of her magic hurt Auriana more than the physical pain. Without it, she felt hollow; an empty shell instead of an actual living being. Her magic was light, and life, and everything about her that was worthy or special, and the sense of loss that hung over her was enough to break her heart as she cowered lost and alone on the cold stone floor. The arcane shackles had revealed the truth of her; had revealed the dark terror that lurked in the very depths of her soul, and she had nearly worn her wrists down to the bone in her frantic attempts to get free.

But no matter how much Auriana struggled, no matter how much she fought, or screamed, or begged for the sweet release of death, the pain never ceased. It lay over her like a dark shroud; a cruel and eternal companion who refused to leave her side. Everywhere hurt - from the flayed skin on the tips of her fingers to the vicious slashes across the delicate tendons of her ankles - but worst of all was the grotesque, ragged hold in her chest, just above her heart. Auriana didn’t know how she could possibly bear such a wound and still be alive, but there it was; a giant, gaping hole of darkness that could never, ever be filled….

You will always be wounded…

Auriana jerked upright, awake, her hand reflexively closing over her mouth as she bit back a scream. Her thunderous heartbeat was so loud in her ears that she was sure the entire Keep must have heard, but the night air around her was as still and silent as the grave. Her lungs ached as if she had just run a hundred miles, and yet her limbs shook with the kind of desperate energy that made her feel as if she must run a hundred more.

Beside her, Varian stirred, grunting slightly as he rolled onto his stomach. He was a tangible link to the real world, a stark reminder that Auriana was safe in their bed and not bleeding out in a torturer’s dungeon, but in that moment, it made little difference. She could have woken him, she knew, but she hated to see the look of fear and helplessness in his eyes as he tried his best to comfort her. It was not his fault that she still had nightmares.

It was not his fault that she was so utterly damaged.

Try as she might, Auriana could not fight back the choking panic rising in her throat. For a lesser nightmare, she might have simply curled up against Varian’s side and allowed the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to lull her back to sleep, but tonight was different. The room around her felt suddenly stifling, as if the walls were closing in from all sides, and Auriana found herself in the grip of a powerful, inexorable instinct that screamed at her to get out.

She stumbled out of bed, shivering as her bare feet met the cold stone floor. It was a chilly night, but Auriana did not care. All that mattered was the seething, sickening pressure devouring her heart; the uncontrollable sense of dread threatening to drown her from the inside out. Her chest seized, as if being crushed by an invisible hand, and she fled for the door.

Varian dreamed.

He was standing on a battlefield, somewhere, though he could see no landmark that he recognised. The air was thick with blood and sweat and the screams of soldiers, and Varian knew instinctively that this was a battle that had been lost. His muscles ached with fatigue, even though he couldn’t remember fighting, and Shalamayne’s blade ran red and sticky with blood.

Torn Alliance battle standards were scattered all across the field, though Varian could see no flag or sigil that may have indicated who they had been fighting. Discarded weapons lay everywhere, alongside what remained of several once-mighty siege engines, and he had to watch his footing carefully to avoid tripping over the debris.

Curiously, it seemed that Varian was the only man still standing. Soldiers lay dead and dying as far as the eye could see, but not a single one had managed to regain their footing, or even sit upright. It was not only their wounds - and indeed, most were horrific - but also that a pervading sense of dread hung in the air, crushing spirits and forcing even the bravest of warriors to accept defeat. Even Varian could feel it, leeching away at his strength and sense of purpose, and yet he grit his teeth and pressed doggedly forward.

He could not have explained why, but he was driven to move; driven to pick up his feet and continue even when his every other instinct implored him to lie down and surrender to the darkness. On and on he walked, past weeping men and severed limbs and scattered bones, despair growing in his heart with every step. Varian was a hard man, but even the hardest man in the world could not possibly remain unmoved by the the sight of so much death and destruction. Each fresh cry of agony all but broke him, but Varian thought that if he could just keep going, if he could just keep moving, he could perhaps find some last lingering bastion of hope…

And then he saw her.

If not for the fact that she were laying in the midst of a slaughter, Auriana might have looked like a painted fairytale maiden, sleeping on her back atop a throne of scattered rubble. Her hands were folded neatly across her stomach, and her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in a dark, delicate halo. She was completely and utterly still, too, as if she had been carved from stone, and never in his life had Varian seen something so pale, and perfect, and timeless.

There was nothing perfect, however, about the monstrous, gaping wound in her chest.

Varian let out bellow of sheer, unrelenting agony, and the sound was so loud and so raw that it felt as his throat had been torn out. He charged forward, his limbs suddenly suffused with a frightening energy, and he tripped and stumbled his way desperately up the mound of debris to Auriana’s side.

Up close, the damage to her chest was far worse than it had appeared from, and Varian let out a low, keening howl as he staggered to his knees before her. Shalamayne tumbled carelessly from his fingers as he fell, the metal of the blade clanging loudly as against the rubble, but Varian could hear nothing save for the roaring of blood in his ears.

Auriana’s body felt as limp and lifeless as a ragdoll as Varian pulled her into his arms, and clutched desperately at the pale skin of her wrists and throat. It couldn’t be real, he thought, she couldn’t possibly be dead; not her, not his fierce, precious mage…

But there was no life there, no hope; only the ice cold, clammy skin of someone long since dead. There was no healing to be had, no escape or trick that might bring her back. Auriana was simply gone, her brilliant light extinguished from the world as thoroughly as if it had never been. She had died alone, and in pain… and Varian’s heart broke as he realised that he had once again failed to protect a woman he loved.

You can never save her from death…

Varian’s eyes flew open, and he let out a strangled cry as he came crashing back to reality. The room around him was almost pitch black, lit only by the faintest beam moonlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and yet Varian saw movement and threat in every shadow. His back and chest were slick with perspiration, his body thrumming with enough energy to fight a thousand battles, and while he could no longer smell the sickly, metallic reek of drying blood, he found himself practically choking on the heady musk of his own panicked sweat.

The bed, at least, was firm and real beneath him, as were the soft cloth sheets tangled around his ankles, and it was by focusing on those small details that Varian managed to regain some sense of control. He was in Stormwind Keep, he reminded himself, in his chambers, and most certainly not standing on a desolate battlefield with Auriana’s corpse laid out before him. She had fallen asleep in his arms, wonderfully warm and alive, and all he had to do was reach out and touch her…

Instead of the comforting softness of Auriana’s flesh, however, Varian felt a fresh wave of blind terror overtake him as his hand found nothing but rumpled sheets and emptiness. He sat bolt upright, his every instinct screaming as he peered into the blackness, but she was nowhere to be seen. Varian was alone, and in a dim part of his mind he wondered whether he had always been alone, and whether Auriana had never been anything more than a figment of his desperately lonely imagination.

In his panic, it took Varian a few moments to realise that the bed beneath his hand was still warm, suggesting that she had been there not too long ago. He glanced towards the heavy door, noting that it was still closed - though realistically he knew a door meant very little to a woman who could reappear on the other side of the world with a mere thought. He also could not think of a reason why Auriana would feel the need to vanish in the middle of the night without a word, though admittedly, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

Of course, in the end the reason mattered very little. Auriana was gone, and all Varian really cared about was finding her and bringing her home. He very much needed to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her skin on his and the precious beat of her heart thrumming beneath his fingertips, and he would not be able to rest until she had been returned to him.

With a shaky sigh, Varian swung his long legs off the bed, and reached for the loose linen pants he kept hidden beneath his matress. He generally preferred to sleep naked, though he always had a pair nearby in case he needed to wake unexpectedly during the night. He now yanked them on with little fanfare, and had just started to make his way to the entrance of his chambers when he heard a very faint sob echoing toward him from somewhere outside.

His brow furrowing in concern, Varian turned away from the door, and took several tentative steps towards the balcony. Most unusually, the door here had been left open, and with a short sigh of relief he realised that Auriana must have been a lot closer than he had initially feared. The sound of her crying was decidedly less comforting, however, and he quickly stepped out into the night to find her.

The air outside was bracing, but in a way, Varian welcomed the cold. The chill breeze did much to slake the fearful heat surging through his veins, and provided him with a much-needed shock of clarity. The moon above was also so huge and so close that it almost seemed to be perched atop the spire of the Stormwind Cathedral, bathing the entire city in a soft silvery glow. Another time, Varian might have paused to admire its beauty - but tonight was not a night to be distracted.

He found Auriana sitting with her back against the balustrade at the very end of the balcony, her knees curled up to her chest as she rocked back and forth. Her entire body was trembling violently, and her eyes were squeezed firmly shut as if she were trying to block out the world. Of greater concern, however, was the fact that her slender arms were ablaze with light as she clutched frantically at her own knees. It was an instinctive, defensive reaction; but also one that could potentially have very dangerous consequences for the people around her.

Evidently, Varian was not the only one who had been having bad dreams.

“Auri…” he murmured, keeping his voice low and calm, “Auri, look at me…”

Varian was keenly aware of his size as he crouched down beside her, and how easily he could appear threatening if he were too move too quickly, or in the wrong direction. This was not the first time he had found Auriana breathless and distraught after a horrific dream, and he was sadly well practiced in dealing with the aftermath. He moved with glacial slowness, and it was only after she opened her enormous blue eyes that he dared reached out to place a careful hand upon her shoulder.

“Auri…” he repeated softly, “Can you hear me?”

His own nightmare seemed distant and unimportant in the face of her visceral distress, and he banished his own fears to the back of his mind as he focused entirely on her. She needed him, and as far as Varian was concerned, that was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“V-varian…?”

Auriana was clearly struggling to focus, though she let out a strangled gasp of recognition as her hazy gaze found his. She reached for him blindly, her nails scratching against his bare chest as she made an awkward, fumbling attempt to pull him close. He caught her gently by the wrists to prevent her from doing him any real harm, still moving slowly so as not to send her spiralling downwards into a further panic. Even then, she started at his touch; though she nevertheless allowed him to slide one hand around her waist so that he might lift her off the ground.

Auriana’s legs were shaking wildly with fear and effort, and she staggered as her bare feet found purchase on the cold stone floor. She was utterly freezing, her flimsy little nightgown offering little protection against the chill air, and Varian vaguely wondered how long she had been outside, weeping alone in the dark. It hurt him like a physical blow to see her in such distress, and he gathered her swiftly into his arms in the hope that the warmth and strength of his body might provide her with some small measure of comfort.

“That’s right, Auri, it’s me,” he murmured, stroking the length of her back and burying his face into the silken tangles of her hair. “I’m here. You’re safe with me, I promise you…”

The words rang somewhat hollow, in light of the utter failure Varian had suffered in his dream, but it seemed that for once, he had said the right thing. Auriana pressed herself tightly against him, and her tiny hands gripped his body with the desperate strength of someone three times her size. Her body was both rigid with tension and alive with magic, and it wasn’t long before her quiet whimpers devolved into harsh, racking sobs.

Varian felt almost as if he were trying to hold lightning in his arms, such was the strength of the arcane power coursing through Auriana’s body. His skin prickled everywhere they touched, and he couldn’t quite shake the ominous feeling of being only inches away from a very powerful explosion. She was not actively channelling, but he knew from experience that she was holding an enormous amount of magic in reserve. At this distance, Varian also knew he would be vaporised in an instant if she were to lose control - and yet oddly, he felt no fear. He trusted Auriana absolutely, and if she needed to cling to her magic in order to feel secure, then he would not deny her.

It was only once her shaking had fully subsided, many long minutes later, that Varian attempted to talk her down. He very  gently prised her away from his chest, and ran his hands along the lengths of her shining forearms.

“Auri,” he whispered. “You can let go.”

For a moment, Varian thought she might resist. A brief flash of rage flickered deep within her eyes, as if she thought he were a threat to her magic, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She shook herself ever so slightly, and for the first time since Varian had found her on the balcony, she seemed to truly remember who and where she was. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and as she exhaled, the fierce glow about her arms and eyes slowly faded away into nothingness.

“Auri?”

“I… I’m a-alright,” she muttered hoarsely. “I’m in c-control.”

“What was it this time?” Varian asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Foundry.”

She didn’t say anything more. She didn’t have to.

A spark of anger kindled in Varian’s chest for all the pain she had suffered, and if not for the fact that Blackhand was already dead, he might have been inclined to charge off to Draenor to avenge her agony. Such a thing would do very little to soothe the trembling woman in his arms, however, even if it may have made him feel much better, and he instead settled for comforting her with soft touches to her cheeks and neck.

Moments like these always made Varian feel helpless and somewhat awkward. He wanted to help Auriana with every fibre of his being, but he could never quite shake the feeling that he just wasn’t very good at it. He wasn’t as naturally empathetic as Anduin, and often had a hard time expressing his more intimate emotions. He wasn’t as wise as someone like Velen, nor eloquent like Jaina. Hell, he’d even caught Genn Greymane, of all people, being soft with Mia in a way that he wasn’t quite sure he could imitate.

For some unfathomable reason, however, Auriana had chosen him, and he was fiercely determined not to disappoint her.

“Auri… I…”

“Am I broken?” she asked roughly, cutting Varian off before he could say anything more.

She turned her head away, unable to look him in the eye, and he could tell that she was still fighting back tears.

“I th-thought it would pass with time,” she confessed, “But some nights it’s like it happened yesterday. I can feel it in my bones. I can feel what they did to m-me…”

Auriana’s voice cracked on the last syllable, as she buried her face into the crook of Varian’s arm once more. Her suffering cut into him like a thousand knives, and his desperate  hold on her became so tight that he was sure it had to be suffocating. She was so brave, and brilliant, and capable, and yet there would always be a part of him that wanted to lock her away somewhere she could never be hurt ever again.

Such a thing was not possible, of course, as much as it may have pained Varian to admit. As he had learned from Anduin, seeking to control those he loved would only serve to drive them away. It was a difficult thing to do, given that Auriana was obviously in such a hurt and needy state, but Varian had long ago sworn to himself that he would be a better man - both for her, and for his son.

You cannot control her, he told himself firmly. You can only support her.

He closed his eyes, and with a great effort, he forced himself to release some of the painful tension in his hold upon her body.

“You’re not broken, Auri. You’re strong,” he whispered fiercely. “The strongest person I’ve ever known. I don’t know anyone else who could have survived the kind of things you have survived with such… grace. I certainly couldn’t have done it.”

Auriana sniffled quietly, and she turned her face even further into the safety of his chest. Her frantic breathing had at least slowed, however, and while she had given no outward sign, Varian knew she was listening.

“For what it’s worth… I’ve spent a good part of my life wondering the same thing. Wondering whether I was… damaged. Fractured beyond repair…”

He rested his chin on the top of her head, and stared out at the twinkling lights of his city below. There was always something comforting about Stormwind at night. The city was peaceful and at rest, and it reminded Varian that for all his flaws, he was a king who protected his people. Maybe not the king they deserved, but a king who would keep them safe.

“But… I don’t think that’s true,” he added, letting out a long sigh.

“No?” Auriana mumbled. “What changed your mind?”

“Anduin has made a great deal of difference. More than he knows,” Varian explained. “He’s so… good. If he’s my legacy to this world, then I can’t have been all bad, don’t you think?”

The faintest ghost of a smile crossed his face as his thoughts turned again to his son, and he felt some of the heart-rending pressure in his chest lessen.

“And then… there was you.”

“Me?” Auriana asked, the pitch of her voice rising in surprise. “What did I do?”

Varian paused for a moment, unsure how to put his thoughts into words. He knew exactly what it was Auriana had done for him, the many ways she had changed him and made him better, but he found it a difficult thing to express out loud.

“You… you saw me,” he began slowly, “Not just Varian, or Lo’Gosh. Not half of me. You saw the gladiator and the king, the good and the bad… and you saw me whole. Unbroken.”

He caught her chin between his long fingers, and turned her face upwards so that he could look her in the eye.

“You and I are of a kind, Auriana,” he whispered. “We were forged by fire. We bend. We crack. But we never break. It isn’t how we’re made.”

For a long moment, they simply stared at one another in silence, neither blinking or even so much as breathing as a thousand unspoken things passed between them. Auriana was luminous beneath the light of the full moon, and despite the pallor of her skin and the unshed tears glistening in her eyes, Varian thought she looked beautiful. More than that, she was still alive, and safe, and his.

A low growl rose in his throat, and he lowered his head to capture Auriana’s mouth with his. There were no words for the things he truly wanted to say to her, but in kissing her, in holding her, he could give her all his strength, and his courage, and his love. In a single, breathless moment he laid every part of himself bare, the passion of his embrace silently urging Auriana to take whatever she needed from him.

When they finally pulled apart, Varian’s cheeks were damp with Auriana’s tears, though her expression was no longer quite so haunted. He knew from past experience that it would take some time her to fully recover from her nightmare and the subsequent terror that had gripped her heart; but for now, at least, she was calm.

“It’s cold,” she murmured, hugging her arms around her body against the breeze. “We should go back inside.”

“Agreed,” Varian said, nodding, “Though I don’t think I’m going to sleep again tonight.”

Auriana frowned, and rested a gentle hand on his forearm.

“You never told me what woke you. Did you have a bad dream, too?”

“Yes,” Varian said stiffly.

He once again saw Auriana’s pale, unmoving corpse in his mind’s eye, as clearly as if she were laying right in front of him, and he shuddered.

“I take it you don’t want to talk about it?” she observed.

It had taken Varian some time before he felt comfortable showing Auriana any vulnerability whatsoever, and even after all they had been through, it was still not something that came easily to him. Deep down, he had always feared that she would scoff at him - or worse, pity him - but he had come to learn that she would offer him nothing less than quiet understanding. Tonight, however, there was something about his dream that left him far more shaken than usual, and he had no desire to relive it a second time. Not even for her.

“Not tonight,” Varian muttered. “You’ll have to forgive me.”

“Varian… there’s nothing to forgive,” she said softly, reaching up to caress his scars. “I just… worry about you sometimes, is all.”

“You worry about me?” Varian snorted.

“Always.”

Auriana tilted her head to one side, and a small, tentative half-smile pulled at the corner of her lips. Varian could still see the strain of her nightmare lurking behind her eyes, but it seemed that she was determined to be stronger than her own fear. It was one of the things he loved most about her, and he more than willingly allowed her to pull him down for another slow, tender kiss.

“I’m no healer,” she murmured, her breath warm against his lips, “But I think I know something that might help with your insomnia…”

“Oh…?”

Auriana brushed the last tears from her eyes, and nose crinkled shyly as she stared up at him through wet lashes. She then looped her finger through the drawstring of his pants, and took an inviting step back towards the warmth and comfort of their bedroom, away from the cold and the lingering echoes of their nightmares.

“I need you,” she said simply.

“I need you, too,” Varian admitted, his voice low and throaty. “But…”

“Please don’t argue with me out of some kind of sense of gentlemanly obligation. We both need this,” she countered.

She slipped her hand into his, and stared up at him with eyes like fire.

“Come make me feel whole…”

[storyknitter]

Aftermath

Theron struggled to stay upright, putting one foot in front of the other through willpower alone. Thank the stars for Lana, propping him up and keeping him from tumbling over; he didn't trust his legs much right now, since they were trembling as though he'd just sprinted across half of Coruscant. His breath hitched and heat exploded in his chest. Oh fuck, this hurts. He tried to recall the meditation techniques that he’d learned from Master Zho a lifetime ago, but between the pain and worry, his focus was completely shot. He glanced around, searching for Vassanna. Thankfully, Lana appeared to be mostly unscathed, but what about Sanna? He had to find her.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart, but all it did was make his chest feel like a thermal detonator had gone off in his lungs again. Idiot, he scolded himself. This was miserable; how in the hells had Sanna dealt with this on Asylum? He couldn't believe that she'd fought her way back to the Gravestone feeling like this. Granted, she'd had an evil ghost in her head that claimed to be helping her, but--

Oh shit. The Gravestone.

He stopped so abruptly that Lana’s momentum pulled him forward, nearly causing them both to tumble to the ground before regaining their footing.

Fucking hells, Zildrog. What happened with Zildrog? How much damage had the Order done to the Alliance? Had he still failed, after everything he'd done, everything he’d put them through? Lana was leading him to the stairway, to leave... without Sanna. Where was she? Did she ... No, she made it. She had to have made it. Icy fear settled in his chest, curling up next to the fiery pain. Sanna, where the hells are you? No no no, please be okay, don't be de--

“Oh, for Force’s sake, Theron, she is right there,” Lana said as she gestured off to the side, exasperation in her voice.

“Oh.” Relief flooded him as he caught sight of the Mirialan, speaking animatedly into her wrist comm and pacing a hole in the stone floor. “‘er armor’s diff’r’nt....” His inane observation drew a raised eyebrow from the blonde.

“Yes, she’s changed it. Clearly.” Lana’s dry retort brought a small smirk to his face -- he’d missed her, too. “As have you. Now, if you would be so kind as to quit mumbling so I can concentrate? Else you might not make it to the ship.”

Theron closed his mouth with an audible snap, keeping his snarky response to himself; he leaned a bit more on his friend, trying to keep his wobbly legs from giving out as his gaze drifted towards the former Jedi. The white of her armor made her eyes stand out more -- he definitely remembered that from Copero. Hells, how was she more beautiful than he’d remembered? It hadn’t been that long since he’d seen her last.

The world shifted beneath him and Theron’s knees hit the ground, pain shooting through his entire body. His vision went black for a moment and he couldn’t contain a moan. The only thing keeping him from completely crumpling to the floor was Lana's arm around his ribs. Hey, at least those aren't broken this time. Now c'mon, Shan. Breathe. You know how to do this. Focus. Remember. Master Zho always said-- His coherent thoughts were washed away by another wave of misery, ripping a groan out of his throat.

When the pain ebbed, he forced himself to take one slow, shallow breath, and then another. On his third breath, he caught a familiar scent, one he must have imagined thousands of times over the past months. Theron looked over, dazed, as Sanna slipped under his other arm, bracing his weight against her shoulders, her hand grasping his wrist. For a brief moment, he felt as though he was being pulled apart before he found himself standing again, supported by the two closest people he had to family. His legs conspired against him, however, and the pressure on his chest increased.

“Hold on, Theron, we’re almost there. Just hold on. Stay with us,” Sanna whispered softly in his ear and he felt a sharp pinch near his hip, missing the concerned glance the women shared over his head.

“Should feel better now,” Lana murmured and Theron sighed as the cool tingling of a kolto shot flowed through him, stifling the blaze in his chest to a more bearable heat.

Time lost all meaning -- he was seated now, propped up against... something, a wall of some sort. How and when he’d arrived at this place, he couldn’t say. That’s probably not great, he mused. Lana was still on his left, head bent and hands on his torso as she worked with the Force; Vassanna was on his right, taking off his boots and socks.

(There was a smart-ass comment begging to be made about her taking off his clothes, but he was fairly certain this was neither the time nor the place.)

Theron couldn’t stop staring at Sanna though, even if he’d wanted to. Sitting this close to her for the first time in far too many months, able to reach out and actually touch her... damn, he’d missed her. Guilt swept through him as he noticed the smudges below her eyes; he was sure they were darker than when he'd left. She seemed thinner, too, but it was hard to tell with her new armor.

He could see cracks in the Jedi mask she was wearing, in the smallest of frowns she wore and whatever she was mumbling under her breath. If only his implants were active, he might have been able to pick up what she was saying. Blinking hard in an attempt to remove the black spots from his vision, Theron focused on her lips, taking the old-fashioned route.

“--die. Not like this, not yet, don’t die, don’t die. It wasn't supposed to be like this, please don't die....”

Hope swelled in his heart. Perhaps Sanna could forgive him after all was said and done -- he just had to live long enough, just had to make it back home.

Her face blurred and he blinked again to bring her lovely violet eyes back into focus. It worked only briefly before she dissolved into shadows. No, don’t leave me here sweetheart. Please, please stay, he thought desperately, reaching for her. A grimace twisted his face and he groaned as he pulled at his wound, doubling over. Theron tried and failed -- again -- to slip into a meditative state, but every time he grasped hold of his focus, it slipped from his fingers, tugged away by the intense pain searing its way through his body. The heat was an odd contrast to the suddenly-cold temperature surrounding him and he shivered as the chilled, stale air seeped into his bones.

“Theron!” Sanna’s voice sounded strange to his ears -- how’d she get so far away? He was certain that he’d just felt her cool fingers on his. His heart lurched at the possibility that the GEMINI droid or Atrius had gotten their filthy hands on her.

No, wait. He'd shot Vinn -- and it was worth all the pain in the galaxy. That rotten bastard worshipped the monster who’d tormented Vassanna for years.

Theron had expected that ingratiating himself with Vinn and the Order would be difficult and repugnant at times, but he hadn’t expected one of the hardest things to be dealing with the near-constant monologuing. Atrius had two preferred topics, upon which he could blather for hours: how wonderful and amazing Valkorion had been for Zakuul, and how the Outlander -- the terrible, murderous, and evil person that she was -- had ruined everything. It had taken every bit of Theron’s self-control to play along and not punch him in the teeth as he so richly deserved.

Focus, Shan. Find Sanna. You have to find her before it’s too late. Dragging his eyes open, he was surprised to see her face mere centimeters from his, her eyes wide.

“San...” He tried again to reach for her, but his arm wouldn’t obey his commands. He needed to be sure that she was okay, that Lana was okay, but he couldn’t... couldn’t...

“Theron?”

Was that fear in her voice? Just be okay, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I can’t keep you safe. I tried, he thought. Her hands were blessedly cool on his face and he managed to meet her eyes again. I love you.

“Theron, please. Stay.”

I asked you first, he thought as she faded from his sight.

“No no no, just breathe, you’ll be alright. The kolto tank’s almost ready, just stay still,” Sanna pleaded, nearly ripping Theron’s other glove off so she could finish removing his grey duster; panic made her hands clumsy and slow, and they shook uncontrollably. “Please, Lana’s having a hard enough time keeping you -- Theron!” He had curled into a ball with a groan, knocking the Sith back slightly and disrupting her Force-healing. Sanna grabbed the spy’s shoulders and pulled him upright, doing her best to ignore the way he trembled and the pained moan that escaped his lips. She breathed a small sigh of relief as he opened his eyes, but they went unfocused almost immediately.

“Theron?” Fear welled up in her throat, threatening to drown her; her hands found his cheeks, scratchy with stubble. Oh stars, you're so pale. Please don’t go, not yet, not like this. His whiskey-colored eyes were unreadable as he pulled his gaze to hers, one corner of his mouth twitching up in a fleeting smile.

“Oh no, Theron, please. Stay.” His eyes fluttered closed and she gasped out a denial as he went limp, his head slumping forward. Without thinking, Sanna tilted his face up and pressed her lips to his. Pulling back, she frantically searched for a response, smothering a cry.

“That didn’t work. It always works in the holos,” she whispered, trembling. “Why didn’t it work? Theron? Theron wake up, open your eyes. Please.”

His Force-signature sputtered like a flame in the wind and he listed to the side, slipping against the durasteel wall. She kept one hand on his upper arm to keep him upright; her other hand rested tenderly on his cheek as she studied his face.

Lana's head was bowed in concentration as she wove the Force through Theron and his injury. Brushing her thumb along his cheek once more, Sanna moved her hand to the Sith’s shoulder in unspoken permission to take whatever Force energy was necessary to keep Theron alive.

No no no, not like this, not yet. We're supposed to have a different future than this, I saw it. Please do something, she begged the Force, anything! Not like this, please not--

Vassanna started as a large, furry hand came to rest on her shoulder. Bowdaar shooed her away from the spy and -- with a touch far gentler than one would expect of a Wookiee with “Boneshatterer” as an alias -- scooped Theron up at Lana's nod, carrying him to the waiting kolto tank.

Time seemed to grind to a halt, yet fly past at once. Lana slumped against her in exhaustion, and the two women sat on the floor, shaking and staring at the tank’s monitor as it beeped out data on Theron's vital signs. The Star Chaser’s medbay wasn’t the newest or sleekest, but -- like the rest of the ship -- “had it where it counts,” according to Captain Nabeshin.

As he stabilized in the kolto, Vassanna rested her head on Lana’s and whispered, “Thank you, Lana, for --” For healing him. For keeping him alive. Oh stars, let him be okay... “For everything.” The Sith’s response was a weak nod and an “of course” that was more hum than actual words.

“I suppose I should thank you for doing a practice run on Asylum for me,” Lana said. They exchanged a sad smile, remembering the frantic haze of those early months after they'd freed “the Outlander” from carbonite but before arriving on Odessen. “The healing itself was almost easier this time around, as I knew what was most effective. However, I didn't have to haul you around while trying to heal you -- and I believe you had some outside assistance as well.”

“‘Outside assistance.’ That’s one way to put it,” Sanna said, snorting inelegantly. “Why don’t you go take a rest?” she asked as her advisor attempted to conceal another yawn. “Maybe have a quick shower and then sleep. Recharge. It’s been a long and... interesting couple of days. Weeks. Months, if we’re being honest.”

“Normally, I’d argue with you,” Lana said with a sigh, “but I can hardly keep my eyes open. That was more difficult than I’m used to.” Glancing over at Theron, floating peacefully in the kolto, she gave Sanna a pointed look. “You should certainly do the same. Don’t just sit here; that’ll help no one.”

Meeting her golden eyes, Vassanna nodded. “I’ll find you if we need you. Rest well, Lana.”

The blonde dragged herself off the floor and, giving Sanna an encouraging pat on the shoulders, headed towards the crew’s quarters; fatigue was clear in her every movement. Sighing heavily, the Jedi settled into a light meditation in an attempt to fend off her own exhaustion.

“Nope!” Eli’anara piped up from the doorway, startling her cousin, before coming to stand in front of her. “You’re up for a shower an’ a nap too. Captain’s quarters are empty an’ your bag’s already there, waitin’ for you.”

“I’m not going to take your room, Ellie,” she said, shaking her head.

“‘Course you are. Wouldn’t wanna be rude and not take something that’s given to you.” Before Vassanna could protest further, Ellie held up her hand. “Just go, cuz. I’ll keep an eye on your Spy Guy...” she trailed off awkwardly. “If, uh... if he’s still yours? I mean, I’ll keep an eye on him regardless, I s’ppose.”

“I, umm... we didn’t really--” The Captain waved her off again.

“Eh, either way, just go. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens, I promise. You two can cross that bridge later; he’s clearly not going anywhere,” she said with a small smirk, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to point at the kolto bath.

Sanna walked to Ellie and Corey’s room in a haze, showering and changing into her casual clothing on autopilot. She laid down on the bed but couldn’t relax enough to meditate or sleep, despite her best efforts. Every time she closed her eyes, a scene with Theron would play out on the back of her eyelids: Nathema, Umbara, Iokath... even Yavin and Rishi. Giving up on rest with a sigh, she hauled herself out of bed and headed back to medbay.

Captain Nabeshin didn't seem surprised to see her walk through the door. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, and Vassanna shook her head, leaning against a table and folding her arms across her chest. “Mind keep replaying things on a loop and ya can’t seem to stop it?” The Jedi fixed her with a stare before nodding slightly. “Nah, I’m not spying on you or anything; you’re just not the first to nearly lose the one ya love, cousin. The waiting’s the worst.”

Ignoring the curiosity in Sanna’s gaze, Eli’anara continued her one-sided conversation. “Want a book? Holo-film? Distractions are good,” she said with a wink, placing a datapad in her cousin’s cool hands. “Read something. There are tons of novels on here. Don’t just sit and stare, you’ll go crazy.”

“Who’s to say I’m not already a little crazy?” Sanna asked. I’m the one who thought I could somehow get everyone in this galaxy to get along and finally have peace, she mused bitterly. That was stupid and crazy.

Ellie snorted. “Can’t help ya there, cuz.” She let out a wistful sigh, glancing towards the kolto tank. “Guess I won’t be sucker punching him yet for what he did to you, huh?”

“What? No!” Sanna leveled a serious look at her cousin, shaking her head. “No reprisals, from anyone. Theron was on our side the whole time.”

“You’re no fun at all, cousin. And I was kidding! ... Mostly.” Finally buckling under the no-nonsense glare from her cousin, Ellie sighed heavily. “Fiiiiine, I pinky-promise that won’t punch him. Unless he does something else stupid.”

Smirking as she walked out the door, the Captain pointed to a fluffy, comfortable-looking chair that Sanna was certain hadn’t been there before. “Enjoy your books,” she said over her shoulder.

Vassanna glanced at the monitor before forcing herself to sit on the edge of the chair and peruse the titles on the datapad, tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair. She scrolled through pages and pages of novels, eventually choosing one at random; swiping to the opening page, she read the first paragraph, then the second.

You mean everything to me.

Theron's words echoed in her mind and she blinked, trying to read the paragraphs again.

I’d do anything to protect you.

And again.

You know I love you, Sanna.

Her own words were the next to haunt her, thrown at Theron from a place of hurt and petty anger.

So you betrayed the Order too. You have quite a track record.

Shame and guilt filled her as she recalled how easily she’d allowed her emotions get the better of her. “Oh, stars -- the look on his face,” she whispered. Sanna glanced back down at the screen in a final attempt to read, but the words were blurry and she blinked away tears.

She stood in frustration, pacing and flinging the datapad onto the table near the kolto tank. It skittered into the neatly folded stack of Theron’s clothing before tipping the pile over, and Sanna snatched up the grey duster as it slipped to the floor.

Noticing the red patch on the shoulder, she huffed out a small chuckle. “Of course it has red on it. Have you ever owned a jacket that wasn’t red?” She shook her head with the tiniest of smiles and held the coat out to fold it. The smile disappeared and her breath caught in her throat as her eyes were drawn to the scorched hole in the back, just the size of a lightsaber blade.

“Oh Force, let him live,” she whispered. “Please let him live...” Sanna clutched the jacket to her chest as her gaze flew to the monitor on the kolto tank, the steady beeping and regular notifications it displayed reassuring her. She looked up at the ceiling of the medical bay, blinking furiously in an effort to contain the tears that threatened to overflow. After taking a deep breath to calm herself, then another, she gently folded Theron’s coat and placed it carefully next to the rest of his clothes, her fingers hovering on them longer than strictly necessary.

Resting her hands on the table, she hung her head as a sniffle escaped. Emotion, yet peace, she thought, taking a deep, shuddering breath before exhaling slowly. “Emotion, yet peace,” she murmured, breathing deeply again as her eyes closed. “Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death--” she stopped abruptly, unable to finish the phrase that was meant to offer comfort. Her eyes flew open and she pivoted, walking briskly across the room.

Vassanna stood helplessly in front of the kolto tank, fingers idly touching the transparisteel near Theron’s hand, as if to hold it. “You can't die yet. Please, you can't.” She paused, swallowing away the tremor in her voice before donning the mantle of Alliance Commander, hands clasped behind her back.

“Agent Shan. You will not die,” she bit out. “Do you hear me? That is a direct order from your commanding officer. If you disobey, I will not hesitate to toss you in the brig. Or perhaps I'll just stick you on desk duty for the next year. When we get home, there will be a serious discussion about mission parameters and approvals, as well as their consequences. Am I understood?” Her tone was crisp and brooked no argument, though Theron was in no position to do so.

She blinked in surprise -- had he actually nodded? No, don’t be ridiculous, she chided, shaking her head to refocus.

“Excellent. You may expect a notification on the meeting time when we arrive on Odessen.”

At that, the Mirialan shifted slightly, wilting as the façade of Alliance Commander faded away, leaving behind a heartbroken woman staring at her injured lover.

"Why?” she cried, hugging her arms to herself. “You hurt me and I'm so... so upset with you. Why couldn't you trust me? There had to have been a way to tell me, so I didn't have to... and I... and you....” Her words trailing off, Sanna rested her forehead against the kolto tank with a small thud, her eyes burning with tears she could no longer blink away. A sob shook her shoulders, then another. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, Theron.”

Closing her eyes and clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry, she stood there for what felt like ages, reciting the Code and trying to calm down. Turning her back to the tank, she leaned against it and slid down to the floor, knees tucked to her chest.

She buried her face in her hands and wept for the first time since the weeks after Umbara.

[not-a-perfect-metaphor]

One Summer Day (weecest), pt.3

Repeating for anyone seeing this for the first time. Parts one and two are directly below or can be found under the tag of “one summer day” in my posts.

Warning: this part and the last are HIGHLY explicit, increasingly more so. Sam is 16. Parts one and two don’t get very explicit and work as a stand-alone if you’re more comfortable with a less shmex-ified weecest tale.

Okie, that is all.

————————————

One Summer Day, pt.3:

Sam clutched his hands frantically over his lap, silently willing Dean to walk away, to get the sudden urge to take a piss…fucking anything that would give him even just a few quiet moments to regain his composure, to pull himself together…to think.

But Dean, to Sam’s dismay, sank to the bed again beside him with a long, unreadable sigh, sliding an arm around his shoulders and absently rubbing shivering circles into his upper back, the hypnotic touch only making matters worse for Sam as he swallowed anxiously, grasping at ideas as wild as pretending to come down with a sudden stomach flu while Dean sat silently pressed up against him.

“Hey…you…okay?” Dean finally asked very quietly, sounding actually significantly worried, and Sam jerked his eyes up from the floor, forcing out a small, nervous laugh.

“Wha-yes, what? No, I mean no I’m, yes I’m…everything’s fine.”

Boy, that had really cleared things right up.

Dean squinted at him, his expression uncertain, and Sam tried an awkward smile, mentally saying prayers to every possible deity in hopes that his brother would remain inebriated enough to not look down and put two and two together.

Decaying corpses, really old sushi, Bobby in a speedo…

He pulled up images of the least sexy things he could imagine, trying desperately to disturb himself down from his current predicament while Dean continued to survey him curiously, but Dean was…trailing across his bare arm again, now, feather-light touches that might as well have been directly on his cock, at least as far as his cock was concerned, and he huffed out a panicked cough, shifting his weight and subtly trying to pivot his lap into an angle that wasn’t so directly in his brother’s line of sight.

Dean’s fingertips suddenly stilled, twitching erratically, his thigh muscles clenching and unclenching against Sam’s own and his breath hitching audibly in the quiet room even though he tried, too late, to mask the sound by clearing his throat.

Sam stopped breathing completely for a moment in response, hastily trying to decide whether he should acknowledge the sudden shift from Dean or ignore it and which would be the best option for moving past it as swiftly as possible, not knowing or even feeling capable of caring at that particular moment what the reason behind it was…

Just needing the already huge amount of tension between the two of them to not get any huger and needing…desperately needing…for Dean to leave his personal space before something he wouldn’t even remotely be able to explain became disastrously obvious.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times at the carpet like a goldfish, he finally mumbled a shaky, “I, uh…y-you hungry? Maybe we should, ah, get-order…something.”

Someday, he would remaster the art of actually speaking, he was sure of it.

Dean exhaled slowly through his teeth, taking a long time to respond while Sam quietly continued spiraling closer and closer to a complete psychological breakdown, hating himself for having such an embarrassingly loose grasp on even the tiniest shred of self-control and wondering, with a painful jolt to his stomach, if Dean had noticed, and if that’s why he was-why he was-

“Hey, uh…it’s really…okay, Sammy,” Dean murmured on cue, his voice low and soft and edged with something else entirely, jumping Sam’s heart into his throat again and dragging his gaze in fragmented, uneven bursts unwillingly up to his brother’s face.

“…what’s…what’s, what?” he stammered through very shallow breaths, his chest shocking with little pricks of lust and fear at the poorly-concealed expression of want etched unmistakably into Dean’s features.

Fuck. Fuck. Was…

Wait-

Dean’s jaw twitched and then tightened, his lips parting ever-so-slightly and his eyes sliding, slowly, down to-

Sam’s blood turned immediately to ice and adrenaline, his knees instinctively trying to jerk up, to hide himself and his palms pressing into the mattress, scrambling to leverage himself away from Dean despite the fact that everything he was doing was only cementing his own guilt and...shit…fuck…he could have played it off as no big deal, he could have done literally anything else, and now Dean was going to think-he was going to know that-

Dean’s hand suddenly came down firmly on his thigh, flattening his leg to the bed again, and Sam choked out a sound of frightened surprise, daring to look up at his brother, his skin tingling all over with heightened nerves and his eyes wide, anxious, weed-hazy, and still fucking aroused…even now, even after that.

“Christ, Sammy,” Dean breathed, the timbre of his voice even deeper and rougher than it had been moments before, “I said it’s okay, not…I don’t know…the exact opposite of that.”

Sam gaped wordlessly, both despising and worshipping weed with a sudden new level of severity, a ragged inhale stuttering in his chest and his fingers closing bruisingly tight around the fabric of the blanket underneath him.

“You know, we kinda had to…run off right in the middle there,” Dean continued hurriedly, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips and his eyes drooping again to Sam’s crotch before he forced them over to focus on a square of the plaid comforter directly to Sam’s side, “I…yeah, I fuckin’ get it…jesus.”

He heeled his way closer to Sam, reclaiming the space that had been put between them during Sam’s miniature meltdown, and very distantly, Sam realized that his brother had to know it wasn’t about the girls…had to understand that if it was, Sam wouldn’t have reacted the way he did to Dean catching on…

But another part of him remembered, and really focused clearly on...for the first time...the way Dean had stared at him with Hannah, the way Dean had orchestrated that entire situation as a whole, in fact…the way Dean had reached for him just minutes ago…touched his hair so provocatively…reacted so…fuck, so vividly to his flustered responses…

He bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle a groan, his pupils expanding like spilled ink and his cock pulsing almost painfully under his shorts, not moving to shield his face from Dean or even to look away…caught up, fully entangled, in the arousal of his realizations and forgetting himself entirely.

As he refocused his vision, breathing in quick little pants that he couldn’t seem to control, he slowly, hazily processed the sight of Dean watching him, inches away, with sheer, undeniable lust…all pretenses ripped from his expression, the smile from mere seconds ago wiped from his mouth and replaced by a hungry, overwhelmed curl of a small, silent growl that tugged at his upper lip, pulling it to halfway expose his front teeth and clenching his jaw into hard, angled lines, his eyes burning, searing wildly, into Sam’s.

Sam sucked in a quiet gasp through pressed together lips, too high…too unfathomably turned on to question this anymore in the wake of Dean…jesus, like this…not knowing if he had lost his mind, not even caring as he collapsed to his back on the bed with a broken, breathy pant of “Dee-aan,” letting his hands fall from their clenched hold over the hard outline of his cock and actually twisting his face into a desperate, needy sob of a whimper, his hips bucking up slightly out of sheer instinct and his stomach coiling with fiery, braided strands of pure heat.

With a real growl this time, Dean was suddenly on top of him, swinging his leg over Sam’s hip to straddle him before connecting the length of their bodies in an immediate, desperate, grinding drag that Sam could feel all the way up to his teeth, ripping a primal, fuck-roughed cry from his throat that shuddered Dean’s torso and staggering his pulse, his blood pumping thick with burning, staticky need.

Dean was hiking his t-shirt up to his collarbone now with low, grated murmurs of “shh, fuck, jesus, it’s okay, god-just, fuck, Sammy, it’s okay, just let me, let me, I got’cha,” and the sound of his voice like this…dripping obscenely with dirtiness and sex, had Sam instantly convinced that he could cum untouched to that alone if he gave up all attempts at holding back…his head thrashing sideways on the pillow at the thought of that and his eyes squeezing shut for a moment against the blinding intensity of actually having this…of…oh my god…having this…for real.

“Dea-” he started, breaking it off into a long, frenzied moan as the rough pads of Dean’s thumbs slid over his nipples, his hips grinding down at the same time and whiting out Sam’s vision with electric shocks of pleasure, “fuckfuckfu-Dean, I, uhnn, d-don’t thi-fuck, I don’t know how long-”

He couldn’t finish, all words escaping him as Dean curled down with his pelvis in rapid, rough thrusts that slid them together at every sweet spot, twisting Sam’s thoughts into nothing but magnified, frantic need as Dean scrambled for his hands where they were clawing into the sheet, dragging them to the mattress above his head and pinning them there as he kept up a relentless drive of friction, his eyes actually crazed with it and his chest heaving around gasps and growls that were hotter than anything Sam had ever even come close to fantasizing about.

“Fuck, Sammy…yeahh, jesus, want you to, god, I can’t…you’re just…fuck, just…no, not now, not yet, need to-”

Dean eased back, widening his thighs and inching down a bit, his hands lifting from their hold over Sam’s to tug at the elastic waist of Sam’s swim shorts, pausing briefly like he was thinking he should stop before groaning impatiently, so fucking hotly, tearing at the fabric and sliding under the small of Sam’s back to actually physically lift him up and out of the shorts, yanking down each leg and finally tossing the shorts, in a crumpled heap, to the floor.

With a shivering inhale, he stilled completely, taking a long moment to rake his gaze down the length of Sam’s body, his lips opening and his eyes flooding with too much for Sam to even begin to catalogue before he hastily shed his own shorts, like an afterthought, tugging his shirt, then, up and over his head...his stare, sharp and unblinking, never leaving Sam.

-Leaving off SMACK in the middle…please don’t hate me. The last part will be with you ver.ver soon I PROMISE. I just wasn’t gonna come to an actual “ending the part” line for obvious reasons, cause they’re stuck in the hot and heavy *grins*, so this’ll have to do!

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

In Your Footsteps: Part 13

You’d never dreamed that something like this could ever happen to you. You had everything…your dream job, a loving boyfriend and the perfect life. But, all that would change with one note and your life would become a living nightmare.

Masterlist (x)

The ordeal may be over, but the angst certainly isn’t...

Silence filled the room as the horror of the night echoed around your head. The images wouldn’t stop flashing before your eyes as you lay there, curled up on your side – clutching the pillow tightly.

A slight movement beside you caused you to jump as Luke shuffled quietly, trying to inch closer to your bed.

He whispered an apology as he laced your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His touch didn’t do much to soothe your fears as he drifted hand up to entangle his fingers through your hair – the gesture only serving as a painful reminder of John yanking your head back earlier.

Luke’s eyes were pained as you shudder under his touch, turning your head away from him. It killed him not to be able to reach you.

Although, you were physically there in front of him – safe and unharmed – he knew how difficult it was for victims to deal with the aftermath of attacks. Some never made a recovery.

He hadn’t left your side ever since he had helped carry you out of the building, shouting down protests from your fellow doctors and nurses as they tried to reason with your boyfriend. There wasn’t a chance he was going to leave you alone.

Thankfully, you were injury-free. But, your Chief had insisted on giving you a bed to recover in anyway – knowing that you needed the sanctuary of the peaceful hospital room. This had always been the place you felt safe.

Luke frowned slightly as he watched you sink deeper into the covers, his eyes filling with concern as he took in your quiet and subdued manner. He had been so worried about getting you back safely, he hadn’t thought about what came afterwards.

A quiet murmur outside your room caught his attention, glancing up to see his team waiting outside – concern etched across all their faces. He sighed softly, bringing your hand to his lips to press a tender kiss on your skin.

“I’ll be right back.”

His heart ached as you didn’t respond, only shifting slightly to turn away from the door. He wondered if you would ever be the same.  

“How is she?” Prentiss asked quietly, gently patting his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

The pained look in his eyes told them everything they needed to know.

“Just give her time Luke.” JJ told him kindly, flashing him a small smile of reassurance as everyone else nodded in agreement.

Inside the room, you slowly closed your eyes – desperately trying to shut out their hushed whispers as they hovered outside the door.

You hoped that time was all you needed.

“You should go home. Get some sleep.” You murmured quietly, delicately tracing the dark circles under Luke’s eyes as he rested his head on your lap.

It had been a day since your hospital admittance, but the trauma of the past year had finally come crashing down – leaving the two of you utterly drained. Luke hadn’t had a moment of rest ever since you had been taken and he couldn’t go on for much longer. You both knew it.

“I’ve had worse.” He replied, stifling a yawn with his hand.

It was true. During his time training with the rangers getting three hours of sleep had been a privilege. Although, even his gruelling military drills hadn’t been as difficult as worrying about you.

It was as if he was scared you would disappear in front of his eyes.  

“Just go Luke.” You sighed, turning your head away from him.

Although you were grateful for his dedication, his presence was a little smothering. You just wanted a moment for yourself to just breathe.

His jaw clenched slightly in anger at your words. It was hard for him to hear your dismissive tone. Everything felt heightened due to the fear he still felt.

“I’ll go to find the doctor. Maybe we can get you released today…” He muttered quietly, dropping your hand as he swiftly exited the room. You both needed your space right now.

The truth was that you couldn’t bear to face him.

The guilt consumed you entirely as your mind racked over what had happened. It was your fault. John had been your patient and you should have known something was wrong. You were meant to be a doctor.

Not to mention that you should have never kept secrets from Luke. Perhaps if you had told him about the notes as soon as they started, things might have turned out differently.

Your hand drifted down to your stomach, resting gently against the unnoticeable bump that was beginning to grow. It was the guilt that something could have happened to your baby that truly terrified you. Luke was still completely unaware even now that the two of you were expecting.

You had made sure to take Grace aside, swearing her to secrecy as she promised to ensure that your doctor didn’t reveal the secret to your boyfriend. It was something you couldn’t quite bring yourself to confront just yet.

This wasn’t how things were meant to happen.

You faltered slightly, hesitating in front of your door as you tried to summon up the courage to open it. The key rattled against the lock as your hand trembled nervously.

It was irrational because you knew that you weren’t in any danger anymore. But, all you could think about was the broken glass that had coated the floor and your belongings scattered across the floor...

A gentle hand rested on your arm as Luke carefully took the keys from you, smiling encouragingly as he opened the door for you. He hadn’t been too keen on the idea of you returning to your apartment, only reluctantly agreeing because he wanted you to be able to have control back over your own life.

He knew that you just wanted to regain the sense of normality that your stalker had stolen from you. That was why he was hovering protectively close to you as he guided you inside, placing a reassuring hand on the small of your back as you took a deep breath.

Unfortunately, you both knew that time couldn’t be reversed.

As you glanced around your spotless apartment, you immediately knew that it had been a mistake to return so soon. Your eyes fell upon the wall on which the menacing threat had been scrawled, the scent of fresh paint immediately sickening.

“We can-”

You slowly shook your head, moving forward to dump your bag down on the kitchen counter.

“It’s fine.” You whispered, your voice strained under the pressure of trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

You just felt as if you had to push through it.

“I’m getting a shower.” You muttered, not even risking a glance at Luke as he stared at you from across the room. You already knew that the concern in his brown eyes would break you.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you wandered into the bathroom, immediately turning on the hot water in an attempt to soothe the fear that was threatening to constrict your chest. Your fingers gripped against the side of the bath as your head began to spin.

Being back in your old surroundings was meant to make you feel safe, but all it did was remind you of the horror of the past.

Everything was a blur as you sank to the floor. You weren’t even aware of the terrible sobs wracking through your body until you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you tightly into a warm embrace.

Luke was there.

“It’s okay.” He told you, his voice calm and reassuring. “I’ll take you home.”

As relief flooded your body at his promise, you realised that things had changed. Home was somewhere you felt safe. Home was with Luke.

Luke’s hand traced delicate circles across your skin, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as you lay curled up beside him. His warm chest and reassuring heartbeat soothing as you tried to summon up the courage to go to sleep.

Truth be told, you were terrified about what you may see once you had shut your eyes.

Luke seemed to understand your fear, nestling your head under his chin protectively. A stray tear slipped down your cheek as he pressed a tender kiss onto your temple.  

“You’ll get through this.” He whispered, his warm breath ruffling your hair slightly as you inched closer to him.

“We’ll get through this.”

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