#and then held his hand as she rode back home much more slowly

[goldiedraws]

I love them and they love each other ❤

[the-californicationist]

Lost the post but it was so good and I'd love to get your take on it!

Price getting videos of you playing from home while he's deployed, and you aren't exactly quiet. Well, the boys hear it and it leads to them watching it at some point (with your permission of course!). I thoroughly believe Price loves showing off what's his and is comfortable in your relationship to consider sharing you with his team, maybe even in more ways than 1?

Maybe Price and reader record themselves a separate time to show the boys? I don't know I'm frothing at the mouth thinking of Price showing you off!

I am slowly making my way through these asks!! Thank y'all so much for being patient. As soon as I clear out my list, I'll turn the ask button back on.

This premise is so hot! Hope this is sort of what you were looking for?

Show and Tell

Price opened your video in the middle of Ghost’s briefing presentation. Luckily, only the task force was in attendance, but as he played the clip, your lust-filled moans echoed throughout the small conference room, unmistakable. All eyes turned to him, and Ghost halted mid-speech.

“Uh, sorry…” Price muttered, quickly swiping away. 

“Fuck, Cap. I know you showed us her photo, but she is damn fine,” Gaz chuckled, leaning over his commander’s shoulder to try and look at the screen.

“Eyes front, Sergeant.”

“Only seems fair to share, mate,” Johnny quipped, a gleam shining in his eye. 

Ghost put his hands on his hips, 

“If it was important enough to interrupt my presentation, maybe it’s important enough to share with the class… sir.”

Price sighed and sent off a quick text. He was asking you for permission to share. It wasn’t the first time that he’d asked you, but all the others had just been the odd picture here and there; a fancy neglige, or a holiday swimsuit… it was harmless. But, this was something else. To his surprise, you messaged back with an affirmative “Yes!” and a winking emoji. 

“Fine.”

Ghost held his hand out and beckoned for the phone,

“C’mon. We’ll put her on the big screen.”

Reluctantly, and a little worried things had gotten fully out of hand, Price handed over the phone. Your enthusiastic response was the only thing propelling him forward at this point. He wasn’t possessive, but he wasn’t much of a sharing man. 

But, then, there you were… in all of your beautiful glory. You were using your vibrator and sitting on the tile floor of your bathroom, burying a thick silicone dildo in your pussy to the hilt. Your moans echoed through the room again in spectacular 4k. 

“Mmm! Oh! Fuck… John, fuck me. Please! Yeah! Mmm. Just like that. Ungh!”

And then the video replayed on its loop. Every time, your shining lips would buzz with the whir of the vibrating wand, and your pink pussy would stretch to accommodate the toy that you were fucking yourself with, slicking it with your fluids and making it gleam. Your tits were bouncing as you rode it up and down, and your head was thrown back in beautiful abandon. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Price decided. 

Ghost handed him back the phone with a sly smile, 

“Holy shit, Cap. She’s quite the little spitfire.”

Soap’s hand reached into his canvas pants and obviously adjusted himself, hardening like a stone. He let out a low, approving whistle. 

“She let you share that?” Gaz asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Price nodded, not sure what to say. 

“I want to see more,” Soap put a hand to his forehead in shock.

“Well, that’s all,” Price shrugged, and then added, “...for now.”

The whole room shifted a bit. Everyone was on edge. The rest of the briefing went by as quick as a flash, but before everyone left the room, Price suggested, 

“You know, it would only be polite to send one back.”

Later that night, he got three enthusiastic notifications. In each one, his men were jacking off to her, complimenting her, talking about what a pretty pussy she had, thanking her for sharing with them. Unzipping his pants, Price decided to add one of his own. 

As his hand worked him hard, he watched your video over and over again. He imagined how your tight little cunt felt around his cock, and how sweet you tasted. He imagined how you liked to whisper naughty things in his ear, talking to him about sucking him off in front of his task force, making them watch. Price knew you wanted to do more exhibitionism, and he encouraged you when he thought about how hot it would be to watch you discovering that pleasure. 

His cock throbbed in his hands, and he whispered into the phone as he videoed himself, 

“Such a naughty girl, you were, showing yourself to my men. We put you on the projector. You looked incredible, missus. You always look incredible. Had all of us achin’ for you. Thought Soap was gonna come right there. Ungh…”

Price tightened his grip and thrust into his palm, rubbing his foreskin up and over his swollen head, slicking himself with his precome over and over and over until it became almost too much. He told you,

“So, we decided to pay you back. For your gift. Hope you send us some more, baby. So fuckin’ hot. Mmm, fuck… my cock misses you, love. So bloody much. F– Fuck!”

Price’s orgasm erupted from his body, coating his belly in white, creamy liquid. He just kept coming and coming, thinking about how you would look with all your pretty holes filled twice. Stuffed so full with no escape. 

He sent off the files one by one, starting with his own, and he waited for your reply. 

The next morning, he woke up to two messages. One was a text, and the other was a video. The text just said: Wish you all were here with a heart emoji. When he played the video, he realized what you meant. 

You had lined up your toys, four of them, all in a row on the bed. Price pressed pause and went to go find the boys. He decided it might be better if they could all see your performance together. He set you up on the projector again, and his men filed in one by one, eager to see what you’d sent. 

“She said she wished we were all here, so I thought you lads might want to see what she sent.”

“Fuck yeah, we do,” Soap sat front and center, wiping a hand down his face, eyes glued to the screen. 

Ghost chuckled, 

“You’re a lucky man, sir.”

“That’s the fuckin’ truth, innit?” Gaz agreed. 

Once everyone was settled, Price pressed play. 

You were wearing a little black bodysuit made of silk and lace, and he could see your dark nipples through the fabric. He knew which one it was. It was crotchless, and just the memory of fucking you in it made him hard.

You sat on the bed, the four toys spread out in front of you, and you picked up the first one gently. You grabbed some lube from off-camera and squirted it all over the toy and leaned forward, squatting over it, working it into your asshole in tight little thrusts, moaning ever so sweetly as you let it fill you up. 

Then, once it was fully sheathed inside of you, you reached for the two toys in the middle, using the lube that was left on your hands to make them slip against each other. You used one to rub through your pink folds, teasing your hole with the head of it, and then — inch by inch — pushed it into your wet pussy. You took the second one and, with quite a bit of difficulty, tried to fit it in next to the first, stretching yourself out even more than you had in the first video, even with these much smaller toys. 

Price couldn’t believe his eyes. You were like some sort of sex goddess, showing off skills he didn’t even know you possessed, and your screams of pleasure were making him drunk with pride and lust. He heard a zipper go down and watched as Gaz started fucking his own hand, right in front of him. 

“Sargeant,” Price admonished him, but Gaz just shrugged and kept jerking off his long dick, 

“Sorry, Cap. Can’t help it.”

Another long moan from you drew Price’s attention back to the screen. You were reaching behind you, wrapping your arm around your body, and fucking yourself in the ass with the largest toy, calling out to him, 

“John… please. I need your cock… I need all of your cocks… ungh, fuck. Fill me with your come. Every hole. Please?”

Then, for your final performance, you used your free hand to feed the final toy into your throat, gagging on it and letting your drool run down your chin. Your legs were shivering, something that Price knew wasn’t easy to achieve. You must be so damn horny. He smiled, palming himself over his jeans, so proud of you for bringing yourself such pleasure like that. 

Ghost grunted, and Price looked over to see him hunched over, spilling his come onto the floor of the office. 

The video ended, and in the silence, the captain heard the wet milking noises of his men fisting their erections, trying to come to your incredible performance. 

Soap gasped breathlessly, 

“Hit play again, Cap’n. Please…” 

Price smiled, looking down at his team in all of their sex-addled joy, and pushed the replay button.

"Maybe we should all put in for some leave, hm?" Price suggested.

He was met with a very enthusiastic round of approving moans, and he felt the excitement rush across his skin like wildfire.

His pretty girl would have what she wanted, and he would make sure of it.

If you liked this story, you may also like one of my other fics: He Shows You Off! But, please heed the tags.

[xlatiwritesx]

Mbappe angst where his family thinks you might be using him but then they see the real you and they feel bad

There for Him | KM9

Genre: fluffy angst (🤨?)

Words: 1.9 K

Synopsis: after his best friend’s funeral, you spend the night at Kylian’s family home to be there for him. Unintentionally, you prove to his family that everything they though of you was false.

A/N: took me a million years, but here you go, anon!! Hope you enjoy it 🥰.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

The rain was hard. As if the sky understood the hurt that was caused by the event you were standing in and was crying with you.

Your eyes never left him. You didn't get too close, though. You knew him too well to get too close too soon.

Someone else you tried to avoid at all costs was his family. Specifically his mother. She never was fond of you. Accusing you of all sorts of things ever since you started dating her son. Calling you a gold digger, someone who only pretended to he in love with her son because of all his fame and money.

But even his mother didn't know Kylian like you did. She didn't know that he loved cooking. She had no idea that dancing under the stars made his eyes sparkle, or that driving was the best way to relieve his stress.

Just like everybody else, she saw him as a guy passionate and extremely talented with football. The brightest star in everyone's world, but no one saw how you were the brightest in his world.

You, Kylian, his brother Eathan, and their parents got in the car to go home. Kylian rode in the passenger seat while his father drove. You, Ethan, and his mother rode in the back. You still kept your eyes on Kylian, not baring to see him this broken.

He was just telling you how important his best friend was to him, just to lose him in a car crash a few weeks later. He wasn't crying, though. He never did. You hated that. You always told him to cry. That it's bad to keep emotions unprocessed. He never listened, though.

Not able to look at his stone face any longer, you looked out the wet car window to the French streets on your way to his family home. Your mind drifted to all the unnecessary drama his mother would stir because of your stay with them for the coming days. You didn't want Kylian to worry about that. You sighed quietly, already earning a glare from her that you managed to ignore.

When his father parked in the drive way, everyone got out of the car and dragged themselves to the front door. The atmosphere was suffocating. You held everything in as much as you could. It was Kylian who lost his best friend after all. You had to be there for him.

While his family walked in, he waited for you, looking back at you from the top of the porch steps with a slightly outstretched hand. You got to him, took his hand, and squeezed it. You glanced in his direction, but he had already looked ahead, guiding you upstairs to his bedroom.

You feel his family's eyes on the two of you as you passed them to the stairs. You didn't care. This wasn't about your relationship or about you. This was about Kylian and his well being. So you just followed him, holding his hand more tightly.

You get to his bedroom and he pushes the door behind the two of you. You stood by it, watching your boyfriend's every move. He sat on his bed, hands intertwined between his spread legs. You watched him closely as you slowly made your way to him. He didn't look at you once and you took it as a sign to keep going.

You finally sat next to him. You didn't say a single thing. You weren't sure if you were even breathing at that point.

"He's gone, y/n" Kylian finally said softly. Your heart shattered into pieces and his eyes flooded.

You uncontrollably pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around his head that he buried into your chest. His sobs slowly got louder and deeper, tearing you into shreds. You quietly held him tight, letting him cry it all out.

Behind the not fully shut door of Kylian's room, his mother stood, watching you hold on to him as he cried into your chest. She never saw his guard this down. She's never seen her own son be this vulnerable with anyone ever. She's never seen anyone hold him the way you did either. Something about the scene softened a part of her cold heart towards you. She started questioning who you really were to him and how you felt towards her son.

A few hours pass and you had managed to convince Kylian to lie down. He rested his head on your lap as you stroked his head to sleep. You allowed yourself to shed a few tears, unable to keep it together anymore.

His mother still watched, checking on the both of you through the slit in the door. Seeing this new scene only made the warmth spread through her heart. However, she quickly walked away when she saw you get up, slowly lifting Kylian's head off your lap to not disturb his sleep. 

You realized that Kylian hadn't eaten anything all day. You headed to the kitchen to make him something for when he wakes up. The bottom floor felt empty, having no one there. You wondered where everybody went, but you didn't give it much thought.

You opened the fridge, assessing the contents to get ideas of what you could make. You quickly looked behind you, though, having heard footsteps. You realize it's Kylian's mother. She had walked into the kitchen and sat on one of the kitchen island stools.

For a second, you stood there, watching her as you waited for her to attack you like she always did. She never wasted a chance to remind you of how she felt towards you. To falsely accuse you of all sorts of things. But when she didn't say anything, you turned back around to open the fridge.

You pulled out some turkey slices to make him a sandwich. You placed the ingredients on the kitchen island, Kylian's mother still watching you from across it. You focused on your task, careful not to trigger your boyfriend's mother who was scrutinizing your every move.

"Making food?" She finally spoke as you spread mayonnaise on one side of the white bread.

"For Kylian. He didn't eat anything since last night" you answered quietly, not looking at her. She still looked at you, though. Your heart picked up its pace, but you still avoided her gaze. You walked to the glasses cabinet, pulled out a glass and filled it with water.

After putting everything on a tray, you walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You got to Kylian's room and placed the tray on his bedside table. You sat on the edge of his bed, looking at his sleeping face.

"Y/n?" He stirred. You stroked his face.

"Yes, my love?" You whispered. He opened his eyes, and pulled you closer to him. You lied down next to him and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, kissing the top of your head.

You lied there. You let him hold you for as long as he wanted. You spent the night like that. None of you said anything. It was enough for him that he got to hold you. And it was enough for you that he did.

His mother watched all of it. How calm he was with you around. How he cried in your chest. The food you made for him because he hadn't eaten since the night before. She couldn't deny it anymore. You loved her son. More than she ever thought you could. And not for all the materialistic things that came with dating someone with a career like his.

She was sure of her son's feelings for you, how much you meant to him, because he never cried. She always thought he hated turkey sandwiches, but there he was eating it because you insisted, which also surprised her because ever since he was little, he never ate when he got sad or upset.

She watched you through the slightly opened door. She looked at the way you were looking at him. She wasn't sure if she, herself, ever looked at him like that.

"What are you smiling at?" She heard her husband whisper behind her. He looked at his son laughing for the first time in a week as you brushed bread crumbs from around his mouth.

Later that night, you walked down to the kitchen to fill a jug of water for the night you were spending. You weren't going to leave Kylian on a night like that.

His mother walked into the kitchen and sat on an island stool like she did earlier. You still ignored her presence and were on your way out of the kitchen when she called your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around to face her.

"Yes?" You replied cautiously. Even with the way she treated you, she was still Kylian's mother whom he loved and cherished more than anything. It killed you, but you had to respect her through everything she said and done to you. And it was about time she realized that.

You were taken aback by how soft her eyes were as she patted the seat next to her, inviting you to sit next to her at the kitchen island. You hesitated for a second before slowly making your way to the stool, setting the water jug in front of you.

You watched her closely, anticipating her next move. She just stared at her hands, though, sighing deeply before she turned to look at you.

"I owe you an apology" she broke the deafening silence. She shocked you so hard you almost fell out of your stool. You tried controlling you expressions, but you clearly failed because she quickly elaborated.

"I, I don't know how to start, honestly" she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. You just sat there in utter shock.

"Let's just say you've been absolutely supportive and I can tell that you've been an intangible source of comfort to Kylian ever since his best friend's passing" she went on. You pierced your lips and nodded once, looking at your hands in your lap. Silence took over for a few seconds before she kept going.

"I can tell he loves you a lot and..." she trailed off and you looked back at her.

"I'm actually really grateful to have someone like you in his life, given his career and all that comes with it, and especially during a hard time like this" she confessed and you couldn't help but tear up a little.

You smiled slightly at her and she did the same. You both stayed like that for a little while before she opened her arms. You laughed lightly and jumped off your stool to wrap your arms around her. She hugged you back tighter and you took it all in.

When you pulled away, you looked to your right and saw Kylian at the bottom of the stairs, smiling a little at the scene.

"You can't love her more than I already do, mom" he frowned, walking to you and pulling you to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

"You don't have to say it. The way you look at her says it all, Kylian" his mother replied, smiling at the both of you.

[the-fiction-witch]

Caraxes

Media House of The Dragon

Character Daemon Targaryen

Couple Daemon X Reader

Rating Sweet + A bit flirty

Daemon slowly climbs down from his black stallion he gives his clothes an adjust before he turns back with a smile to his soon-to-be bride Y/n, sat on the horse in her black gown, He takes her in his arms and helps her down from the horse gracefully before He began to walk off with her hand held tightly in his, until they arrived at the entrance to the Dragon pit. Before entering, however, he stopped.

"Before we go in my love, I must ask you to remain calm. Would you be able to do that for me?"

She held his arm the whole walk rather excited even if she was clearly nervous, she nodded and smiled trying her best not to show her fears, Daemon found her so adorable, an innocent sweet girl, and he wanted to protect her at all costs.

"Then come on, my love."He smiled kissing her hand before he began to walk in,

First was the smell of the scent of dragon, The warm reptilian scent with burnt flesh and stone.

Second was The noise of the Dragons echoing through the large caverns of the dragon bit,

"Now. You must remain calm as I introduce you. I know that it may be difficult, but I ask that you please try not to show your fears,"

"I promise to do my best Daemon" She blushed,

"Your best is more than enough, my love." he cooed kissing her forehead,

"thought I admit Imagined them having a bigger house.”

Daemon chuckled as she spoke. "The Dragon pit here are much smaller than the space they have back at Dragonstone. Back home they have hundreds of acres only for the Dragons to roam. Here we are limited to the cavens,"

“Ohh… poor things,”

“I never like keeping him here long, and even when I do I make sure to take him out alot.”

“That’s very sweet of you,”

"Do you want to meet my most beloved dragon?"

she nodded hiding her eyes behind her hands to be surprised

Daemon smiled wrapping his arms around her waist and giving her a kiss, The dragon keepers brought Caraxes in from a smaller caven to be admired in his full glory as Caraxes lifted his head and looked down at the two of them already the dragon was tense as he knew his master and bonded Targaryen but did not know Y/n. Daemon could already see this would be a beautiful moment that would forever be burned into her memory.

"My love. I want you to open your eyes, and I want you to look up now."

y/n moved her hands and her eyes began far lower but then she quickly corrected from her expectations of the dragon being far smaller than he was and immediately she gulped, fear washed over her for a moment but she did her best to be brave, as she looks up at Caraxes the dragon tall with fiery red scales, bright yellow eyes, a beard of horns and wings large enough to strange a ship, his body long and serpentine like with a neck that slithers and slicks,

Daemon smiled and watched her reaction as she took in the sight of his dragon.

"My dragon, my oldest and most trusted companion, Caraxes." He said,

"he's...big,"

Daemon laughed at her comment as he spoke. "He is indeed very big, but he is a gentle dragon. Come on."

He began leading her to Caraxes, The dragon did not seem happy about this woman approaching but given she was still being held by a daemon he seemed to accept her… for now.

“How uhh how old is he?”

“No one knows for sure, my uncle Aemon rode him as a young dragon all the way until his death,”

“So he was your uncle’s?”

“He was, dragons can only have one living rider. So when Aemon died by crossbow. He was riderless.”

“And then… You?”

“And I found him, after all riderless dragons are often ignored. I was merely a boy but he gave me structure, and purpose at a young age.”

“That is very sweet,”

“Come on, you can touch him,”

She slowly moved closer clearly nervous, "will he eat me?" she whispered her fears already overwhelming her,

"He wouldn't dare try such a thing. Caraxes would never even dream of harming you. Come, he wishes to meet you." Daemon could see how nervous she was, and it only made him want to protect her more.

she moved maybe two more steps closer "...can he hear me?" She whispered

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her question and then nodded as he spoke. "Of course he can my love. He can hear everything we say." Daemon chuckled, and looked to her. "He is a gentle soul really. You see, I have trained him well. He even understands me, come closer, you are nothing to fear my love."

She moved closer now so close caraxes could investigate her with Daemon still behind her protectively Caraxes sniffed at her, his nose rubbing slightly against her. Daemon could see his eyes narrowing as he studied her, and as she remained in place.

Daemon smiled, and gave her hand a tight squeeze. "He likes you. See? Caraxes is quite a sweet dragon."

"I suppose so... Uhhh... Thank you for not eating me caraxes..."

"You see!? Such a nice dragon... Would you like to try and touch him now?"

She was clearly still full of fear as she moved her hand closer and touched the dragon scales for maybe a second, if that. Before she moved her hand away as quickly as she could. Daemon chuckled and took her hand resting it against Caraxes scales his hand ontop of hers as the dragon shifted accepting Y/n as an extension of Daemon,

Daemon smiled, quite impressed by her calm demeanour around such a large beast. "See? You're doing great, he certainly likes you my love."

"he is very nice, very sweet. And a very handsome dragon" she smiled as she began to stroke caraxes by the nose with both her hands

Daemon smiled wide as he continued to watch them, feeling a sense of pride in her. She was so sweet, and had certainly won Caraxes's heart. Which was more then enough to melt his own to see the woman he loved and was to marry bond so happily with his dragon, "He is quite a handsome dragon, isn't he?"

Caraxes responded to her petting by tilting his head back against her, he seemed quite contented with her attention.

"mhm very handsome"

It made him so happy to see her and his dragon enjoy one another, As she continued to stroke Caraxes, Daemon smiled and spoke. "It seems you have my dragon's heart."

"I do?"

"You have. Caraxes is clearly quite fond of you, I can tell. You won him over, and as such I am quite pleased with you. I have the feeling you two would get along just fine with one another."

"I hope so, hello caraxes your very lovely thank you for being nice to me. I think your a very big very nice dragon" she smiled

"I think he appreciates your kind words my love. I believe he would like you to become his friend."

"awww I'm sure we'll be freinds"

Daemon gave her hand another tight squeeze. "I think he's grown fond of you already. I must say, it is rather nice to see him with a woman who does not scream in fear while looking at him."

"I admit he shocked me I didn't imagine he was so big but he's very sweet and handsome. Just like someone else I know," she smiled giving caraxes nose a kiss and then daemons nose a kiss

"I would certainly say the feeling is mutual." He rubbed his thumb against his caraxes nose too, "See? Even my dragon finds you as irresistible as I do, my love."

"he does?"

"He does, I think your kiss has quite won him over now."

Caraxes nudged his head against her again, and looked up to Daemon with an expectant look.

Daemon smiled, and chuckled before speaking."See. He truly does enjoy your affection."

"awww," she smiled doing her best to hug the gigantic dragon with her tiny arms,

Daemon chuckled at the scene before him "I think it's safe to say the two of you are getting along quite well. Would you like to try and climb on him my love? I believe he would hold you safely if you wanted to try."

"ohh... I don't know, isn't it dangerous?"

"Caraxes would never allow you to come to any harm, and nor would I. I will assure you, you would be perfectly safe."

"well... If you think it's safe. Could I give him something before we go? A treat perhaps... If... Uhh if dragons have treats?"

“A treat?”

“I’m sorry… do dragons get treats?”

Daemon smirked at this, as he spoke."I'm sure he would like a little treat. Would you like me to go and get him one love?"

"Mhm"

Daemon laughed at her answer and nodded slightly. "I shall be back with something in a moment." he gave her a kiss and went to talk to the dragon keepers,

she was a little more nervous now she was alone even if daemon is just across the room, but she smiled and stroked caraxes nose "ummm your a very beautiful boy, I see why Daemon loves you so much"

Caraxes whimpers in response to her words, moving his head against her now that she was alone with him. He seemed to enjoy her words, and after a moment of her caressing him, he began to lean toward her.

she giggled and ran her hands over his scales and gave him kisses softly singing a gentle song like a lullaby

Caraxes seemed to be enjoying the gentle singing and her caressing. Caraxes leaned his massive head against her, his red scales feeling quite hot from her touch. After a moment or two that she spent giving him gentle kisses and caresses, it was quite clear he had found himself quite smitten with her now. After a moment he nudged his cheek against her in an attempt to get her to scratch it, the gentle red dragon wanted all the affection he could get from her. She began to gently scratch his cheek as the dragon nudged her. Caraxes's small yellow eyes seemed to be locked onto hers, and his tongue licked at her hand at one point.

Daemon came back over the keepers having fetched a pig, "I believe Caraxes really likes you my love. I wonder why that might be."

"who knows? Maybe I just smell nice?"

"Perhaps that is it. That you may be filled with a scent that just so happens to attract such powerful dragons." He teased her,

"or maybe... He's just so much like you. You fell in love with me only makes sense a dragon that is such an extension of yourself would love me too,"

He chuckled lightly as he spoke again. “I suppose that could be true,” He nodded, “You think my dragon and I are quite similar then?"

"Umm my big handsome sweet boys"

Daemon smiled brightly. "Really?"

"Mhm, But ones a little more special" she smiled wrapping her arms around daemons shoulders,

"And which of us is more special my dear love?"

"hummm I wonder" she Giggled before she stood on her toes and kissed his lips

Her attempt was quite cute, and his mouth met hers as they kissed. He could feel the passion building, and he couldn't quite contain himself now. He took her in his arms, lifting her body up against him. Their lips locked in an intimate and passionate kiss, Daemon's lips continued to play with her own, as one of his hands found her back while the other hand moved to her soft neck. Their kissing grew more intense now, and he found himself enjoying the moment far more than he thought he would. Daemon's body pressed hers against the wall, and he could feel her curves pressing against him. His hand moved to hold her back while his other hand continued to run its fingers through her soft hair. She was incredibly attractive, and the passion between the two was clearly growing larger and larger. Daemon felt his heart beating faster and faster. And Y/n felt as if she was to faint from the passion, The adrenaline between the two increased as their kisses became more heated. His body moved closer, pressing up against her. He could feel the heat of her body as it pressed against him, it was quite intoxicating to say the least.

they are both suddenly interrupted by the harsh sound of caraxes blowing fire into the roof of the cave they both jumped at the loud noise of Caraxes's fire, Caraxes stared at them both in a disapproving manner.

After a moment Daemon spoke, trying his best to contain a chuckle. "I believe he does not approve."

"I think he might be a bit jealous? Of me or you?"

Daemon chuckled as he spoke. "I believe he is most likely jealous of me." he smirked, "He must be smiutten with you, and now he will want to have your affection all to him self my love."

"ohh I'm sorry I didn't mean to cause any trouble"

Daemon chuckled lightly at her apology. "There is nothing to apologize for my love. You have done nothing wrong. I do believe Caraxes is simply a bit jealous, so I must go back to giving him what he wants. Do not worry about it my dear."

"All alright I do hope I didn't cause any trouble between you" she said nervously

"Don't worry, I admit I got a little jealous seeing him with you too so I can't blame him for getting jealous of you and I?"

"You did?"

"A little my love," He cooed, "Do you think you'd want to ride on Caraxes back with me?"

"Now?" she gulped,

"Not today, another day, with less wind when it's safer for you." he explained, "But? would you want to?"

"I think so," she nodded, "I'd like to,"

"You are just perfect aren't you," He cooed, "I can see it now, you and I riding on dragon back together around dragon stone"

"It does sound nice," 

"And perhaps we will have dragon eggs settled by the cradle,"

"The cradle?" she giggled,

"Umm, Our children will be Targaryens my love. Dragon riders. We could lay eggs in their cradles and have them bond at birth, so we can go riding around dragon stone with our children on caraxes when they're young and then... their own when they are grown." 

"Riding on Caraxes? with our children?" she laughed at what seemed so absurd but she found it sweet at the same time that Daemon wanted his children to ride on his dragon with him,

"Of course," he nodded, "My mother took me to the sky with me in her lap when I was merely three weeks old, as she rode on Meleys," He explained, "Would you deny me giving our children the same?"

"Ohh..." she smiled, "Of course not, I could never deny such a thing. It's very sweet Daemon, I am sorry if my joke of it offended-"

Daemon smiled at her, stroking her cheek for a moment before letting his fingers play with her hair. "There is nothing to worry about my love. come on He likely just want’s his treat." he chuckled

she nodded and cuddled into his chest happily, Daemon wrapped his arms around her body as he held her to his. She was so comfortable, and her being this close felt quite warm to him. His fingers ran through the soft strands of her hair, and he could feel the softness of her skin against him as he ordered the keepers to give Caraxes the pig,

"You are the embodiment of beauty and grace to me, and I cannot help but be drawn to you. The moment I lay eyes upon you I could feel the passion brewing between us, my love. I do believe that the gods themselves must have created you for my own enjoyment, though I would rather have you all to myself and not share you even with my own dragon." he smirked, "you shall utterly be all mine once we are made man and wife. There shall be nobody that can come and steal you away from me, or the gods themselves will hear of my anger my dear."

“I can’t wait till we’re married Daemon,”

“I can’t wait either Y/n,” He cooed, 

[fluloa]

Si fpom

Jake Sully x reader [series, part one]

Home.

That's what your mother whispers to you, mouth stretched into a warm grin as she holds you in her arms. A baby so small, crying in choked whines and all she can do is wipe a hand through your thin threads of short hair. She's exhausted, spent of the hours of pushing and crying and screaming. Ongokx. To be born. Here you were, settled in her arms with a face so sweet and skin so teal. Ronal feels tears dry up on her cheeks as new ones overlap them, "Ma ite. Ma txon."

My daughter. My night. The fire beside her crackles, warming her sweat-dampened legs as Tonowari supports her from her back. The moon's light shines in from the slitted open flat of the tent, highlighting the side of your face. Born in a night. Her little night.

As you grow older, so does your curiosity. You're drawn to the ocean, to the outside of the reef, to the outside of your home. Barely the age of three and you're waddling to the sea foam of the ocean, with your father hot on your feet before he's scooping you up. You just manage to pick up a dirtied seashell before it. "Tomorrow, my daughter. Far too dark now."

He starts walking away with you on his hip, and you look over his big shoulder, arm reaching out clumsily. "Go out there." You wave your seashell, and he takes it from your chubby little hand.

He lows a laugh, "This right here is all you need." He gives your belly a small tickle, before gently moving your head to the view of your village.

When you're four, you're gifted with a baby brother. You sit on your knees from afar as you watch the baby in your mother's arms with curiosity, loud cries filling your ears. He looks so odd to you, a face so small and the stripes on his skin like little spikes. You look to your own. Why are yours more stretched out? And why is he crying so much? Is he hurt?

Your mother looks to you, eyes wearing a tiredness but she smiles, flicking a hand in your direction as she beckons you. "Come look, txon."

You slowly crawl your way towards her, eyes trained on the little being in her arms. You kneel neatly beside her, looking up to her and she nods again, smile brightening as a few chuckles leave her lips. "You can touch, ma eveng."

You warily reach your hand out, placing your palm on the soft skin of his belly. You're fascinated with the way your hand covers most of it. You shift your hand again, instead feathering at his cheek and your mouth cracks into a little smile.

"Tonowari," Ronal quickly whispers, pointing her head to the scene in front of him. His face beams with joy at the sight, placing a hand on her arm as his chest swells with warm pride. At such a young age, you held a sense of maturity, of wiseness. Destined to be a leader. A tsahik. But that didn't mean you didn't have a snap of childish fire in you.

"Ao'nung!" you hiss, refusing to unlatch your grip on the seashell he's desperately holding. He whines, tugging again but it's useless to you. Six and two is a big difference in strength. "Give it— give it!" you scream.

You finally pull, and it's a hard pull. Whipping it out from his grasp and the force sends him to the ground butt first. Hearing the frustrated hisses morph into big cries makes you grin in victory, but the expression drops as soon as you hear the angry thud of footsteps against sand and see the angry look on your incoming mother's face.

During your sixth cycle, you rode your first ilu. Sure, it was a bit on the messy side and you did squirm a bit before connecting your tsaheylu, but as soon as your fingers grazed the wet scales of the animal's neck and you settled comfortable on her back, you were gliding through the sea. Ronal was scared for you at first, but Tonowari's hand placed on her shoulder gave her enough reassurance.

Once you come back up to your parents, your smile is bright, water dripping from your face. Your mother leans over and flicks a few wet stray hairs out from your face. "How was it, txon?"

"Really, really good!" you gasp, earning a chuckle from both your parents. "Can I go further?" you point your finger out, almost reaching to the deeper fill of sea.

Tonowari shakes his head.

"Let me go further!" you whine, dreaded that your father had caught you trying to sneak an ilu after sunset. His grip on your forearm is tight and unforgiving, dragging you away from the coldness of the sea's start and to the dryness of the hot sand. Even if you were twelve, you still held that childish fire.

"I will not let this continue," he snaps out your name. "Foolish girl. One of these days, you'll end up dead."

Your fingers claw at his fist wrapped around your damp skin, tears burning at the rim of your eyes. "I would rather that than be stuck here!" you cry.

He suddenly stops, looks back to you with his face still. "You disappoint me."

He lets go of you, and you slump to the ground, finally letting the tears break from your eyes and drool down your cheeks. You wanted more. More than this land, than this village. But it was out of reach, and you couldn't even attempt to stretch out your hand to catch it.

You feel a hand warm at your shoulder, and you numbly look up, seeing your grandmother eyeing you with a soft sympathy. You clumsily crawl to her, clutching her legs in a hug and a soft chuckle leaves her. "Come," she murmurs.

You're sat at her tent, arms wrapped around your knees as she gently unfolds your braids, drops of water sliding from your hair and sticking to your back. Your eyes are wet, tiredness taking over your body little by little. "What is the matter?" she starts, her tone casual.

"Why am I so different?" you mumble, eyes trained on the ember fire in front of you. "I feel as if I am so apart from everyone else."

"You are your father's daughter," she responds. "He sees himself in you, and he is afraid of that."

"I am nothing like him." You bitter, playing with a cuticle of your nail as annoyance from the events of before settle deep in your heart.

Your grandmother laughs, "You would be surprised. But, ma eveng, you are not apart from everyone else. Different, maybe, but it is not bad. It is a gift."

She takes the final braid out from your hair, humming as she cups your chin with her fingers and turns your face to her gaze. "Lor evenge," she awes. Beautiful girl, she calls you, something that you can't seem to believe each time the words leave her mouth as much as you try to. Her eyes graze over your hair, using a soft hand to comb through it. "You must wear it like this more often."

Your eyebrows crinkle, a smile making its way to your lips. She grins back.

"Come," she takes your hand, bringing you up with her and she skims past her tent, dragging you with to wherever she's going to. She sneaks you past the village, away from the people and fires and leads to you a thick land of rock that's mended through the sand and is perched at the edge of the sea, as flat as the sand beneath your feet. She slips her hand away from yours, stepping onto the rock surface. You watch her with curiosity as she starts to move her arms, and then she turns to you, curling her hand toward you.

You swallow steadily, stepping onto the rock and feeling the gravelly surface graze the bottoms of your bare feet. You begin to follow her movements, unable to fight the grin on your face as she smiles in your direction.

"Dance with the water," your grandmother whispers, voice blending with the soft sway of the ocean. "Feel its waves. Its undertow. Feel it within your body, and move with it. Move with the water, ma evenge."

Your grandmother grows ill when you're fifteen. You can tell in the way her face softens and wrinkles, the way her voice croaks, and the way her movements slow.

Dancing with her at your designated spot, the flat chunk of rock. The night's air cool as it breezes through your unbraided hair, beads jingling on your body as your hips sway. A sudden stop to her motions has your head whipping towards her, rushing to her just before she falls to the ground. "Grandmama," you murmur, pressing a few fingers to her head and worry shocking through your system at the intense warmth that you feel against them.

You yell out desperately, holding her to your smaller body as she begins to slump against you. A few people come, and take her from your arms, rushing her to the healers pod. You follow after them, hot on their heels as you silently beg Eywa for a miracle. You could not lose her. She was your source of peace, your light in the pitch black darkness. She was the only thing that made sense to you.

They lay her out on a blanket layered bed, dipping a bowl of misty green liquid into her mouth. You don't pay attention when the thin curtains of the marui pod whip apart, your parents swarming beside you.

"Mother," your father whispers, kneeling down to her form and rolling a hand over hers. His head suddenly slumps, mouth dipping in a sadness and your heart plumbers.

"Let me see her," you rush, attempting to push past the little crowd of people that surround her. "Let me see her! Grandmama!"

Your mother wraps a hand around your arm, but you immediately shrug it off, forcing your way past everyone as your eyes begin to fog. You drop to your knees, eyes trained on the still, dead face of your grandmother. You suck in a rasped gasp of air, hand pulling on her arm wretchedly as you cry. You scream out, only to be forced away by the rough arms of your father, shoved into his chest as your wails of pain begin to muffle. He lets you cry, lets you hit at his body as despair fills your being. A new tsahik would come forth; your mother.

A little while later, you held young little Tsireya in your arms, allowing her tears to run at the skin of your torso. You push your own need of comfort aside, instead focusing on your younger sister that reaches for the comfort that you need to give. You comb your fingers through her dark hair, just like your grandmama, and mumble a soft tune. "Mawey, hi'i ilva. Aku tikeftxo, teya si fpom."

Calm, little drop. Take away sadness, and fill peace. The beginning of your songcord, the first little bead of your chain.

Past your teenage years and into your early adulthood cycle, you were fierce. A force to be reckoned with. You held that fire within you, and it had only blossomed into a bigger wrath of ember. A gifted dancer, a strong hunter, but a kind heart. A kind heart that your people grew to know, to adore. Wise beyond your years, people said, but a wild, curious and adventurous young girl deep inside. Your father's daughter, just like your grandmother had once said.

"A tsahik in the making," your mother tells you, fixing the crystal woven crown on your hairline. Your head juts up, your chest risen with pride as she then traces your newly tattooed back.

A tsahik in the making that you hope could live up to your grandmama.

— sooo here it is!! ik this chapter isn’t that big but trust me, next chapter will be FAT. lol. pls be kind. <333 also idk if this will get attention or not

to be in my tag list for this series -> here

PART TWO

[f10werfae]

Sleepy Sex Session

pairing: Ari Levinson x Girlfriend!Reader

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

summary: slow, lazy sex with Ari, both lying in bed either late at night or really early in the morning. full of love and just something sweet (requested by @imyourbratzdoll )

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“does this feel good sweetheart? Cause you feel amazin’” Ari whispered kissing Y/n’s nose, watching her scrunch it in response, her lips pouted out as she kissed him softly; both her hands cupping his face as she moaned. His hips softly rolling against hers at 1am, one of his hands held her thigh over his hips, keeping her as close as possible. Both their lips swollen from lazily making out for hours upon hours in bed.

“Feels amazing babe, feel so full n sleepy already” Y/n smiled kissing the freckle on his cheek, some sweet lovin at 1am wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary, especially when Y/n found it hard to sleep most nights. More often than not the best way to get her to sleep was with a soft and sweet session of lazy sex. Just being able to feel Ari close was enough to send her into a deep sleep coma.

“Just let go for me sweets, s’okay m’right here with ya” Ari whispered into her hair, kissing it softly, his hand combing through her hair softly. “I love you Ri, missed you so much, couldn’t sleep without ya” Y/n whimpered moving her arms to wrap around his torso, her body laying against his chest.

“I know you did sweet girl, but i’m home now, never leavin again ya hear me?” Y/n nodded pushing her head up to kiss his jaw, her eyelids feeling heavier. Thank God Ari had come home from his final mission, finally home to stay with Y/n for good, in their cozy warm bed. “When w-we wake up tomorrow can we have blueberry pancakes?” Y/n whispered with her eyes closed, her hold tightening on him as she felt the nestle of curls above his cock start to rub on her raw clit.

“Of course doll, anythin ya want I can do, here let me help ya sleep faster, hate to see my baby so tired out” He reaching a hand down, his thumb rubbing soft comforting circles onto her puffy clit, her breaths getting deeper and steadier as her orgasm slowly filled her nerves. Instead of feeling the sense of overstimulation, Y/n felt herself melt into her man’s hands, his thumb continuing its action as her hips rode out her high. His cock slowly slipping in and out of her wet pussy, the sounds lewdly filling their fire lit room, the heat fanning their face nicely

“Thank you ri, m’ a bit sleepy now” Y/n mumbled rubbing her eyes with fists, Ari still lifting up her shirt, peppering her hardened nipples with kisses and flicking them with his tongue every so often. “Well you ain’t leavin’ my arms sweetness, so settle in and get comfy” Ari chuckled watching yer yawn, her eyes glossy and half closed; a sense of calmness present on her face.

“Love ya so much” Ari smiled feeling himself also grow tired, his lips kissing hers tiredly, their tongues lazily meeting in the middle. Her arms reaching around his neck to shift closer to him, her pussy clenching around his soft cock absentmindedly, both of them lost in the feeling of exhaustion and satisfaction.

“Let’s sleep well riri, n’ maybe we can do all this again later” Y/n said putting her head in the crook of his neck, his scent of wood and lemons overtaking her senses, as his hands ran up and down her back soothingly. “You got it baby” Ari gleamed, his cheek atop her head, both of their bodies connected as one. “You got it all, all of me” He whispered feeling her body go limp in his arms as her breathing fully calmed

——-

Taglist Tags (Form is up there): @pandaxnienke @patzammit @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @tojisbabymomma @bxdbxtch @madebylilly @tinyelfperson @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @chrisevansangel @fdl305 @mysticfalls01 @mdpplgtz03 @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @cevansgurl @uwiuwi @caps-shield1918 @stormcloudss @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @girl-of-multi-fandoms @meetmeatyourworst @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @aerangi @roofwitty779 @ravenhood2792 @feltonswifesworld87 @alina02 @bookfrog242 @alexxavicry @lastwandastan @angelmather1 @diyabhanushali1 @bval-1 @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @hatsparkle @daddymack01 @keiva1000

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Gkika Gets Got

Fandom: Girl Genius Summary:

"A girl likes to pay her debts, ya?" "So, what did you do for the Jӓger lady?" "Nothing much. She's makin' more of it than she should."

Gkika gets badly wounded on a raid. To her surprise, she is rescued by a mysterious man who seems neither human nor Jӓger; a man who is determined that she live to fight. Gkika would prefer to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment.

AO3 Link

Damn.

Damn.

Don’t get confident. Her father had drilled that into her head over and over and over. Don’t. Get. Confident. Always assume your enemy is better than you, and fight accordingly.

But nooo, Gkika was the bigshot raider now, Gkika rode with the Jӓgers, Gkika had made it through two raids without a scratch, Gkika was invincible.

Und now, hyu got three whole arrows in hyu, cauz hyu so good at dis.

The one in her side had hit her ribs. She could have pushed through that pain, but the two in her thigh… There was a reason she was crawling her way through the stagnant water at the bottom of the ditch—which would mean infection even if she could get out of here.

There were no tryouts for riding with the Jӓgers, no tests, no athletic requirements. You either lived long enough and fought well enough to be offered the draught, or you didn’t. If she died here, would they even find her body? Would they all say she’d died because she wasn’t good enough, or would they think she panicked and ran? Like a coward.

If she could just get out of the damn ditch.

As if in immediate response to the thought, something grabbed her by the straps of her leather cuirass and hauled her up. Gkika thrashed wildly, her jaw clenched tight—absolutely no screaming, not for anyone’s amusement. The arrow in her side caught on the dirt wall of the ditch, and the pain—

Gkika woke slowly. Her wounds still throbbed a dull, burning ache. She felt pressure on her stomach and something hooked onto her belt. But she wasn’t dead or caged or being torn to pieces by angry villagers, and that was a good start.

Her face was pressed against something soft. She cracked open her eyes and saw a wall of rough green fabric. Where was she?

“Ivan vill be okay if ve tie him to de horse,” said a voice. “Alrik is still breathink but he von’t vake up. His head iz all fonny lookink.”

“Make a sling and take him home. At this point, the Heterodyne is the only one who can put him to rights, if anyone can.”

The voice wasn’t familiar, but the way it rumbled right through her made Gkika realize she was slung over a shoulder like a sack of flour, held in place by a hand on her belt. Gkika shut her eyes again, and felt humiliation rise in her face like a sunrise.

“Found a couple of de town boys, too, dead.”

Oh no. She knew that voice.

“Did you take care of it?

“Ya, ve found some canvas und wrapped dem up. Got deir hats, too.”

That was Goomblast, the biggest mouth in the world literally and figuritively! Who everyone knew had been personally told by Zog that he’d be made a general as soon as he learned how to keep a secret for two seconds in a row! By sundown, every person in camp would know about this—Mechanicsburg would know about this—the Polar Lords would know. Subterranean mole people who had never seen the sun would know that Gkika had run headfirst into a hail of arrows like the idiot she was.   

“Good. Go back to camp, get them buried, get Alrik to the Heterodyne. Don’t wait up—I need to patch this one up, first.”

“Heh. No kiddink.”

Gkika barely heard the sound of the Jӓgers leaving over the flood of her own mortification.

After a few moments, the voice said

“They’re gone now. You can stop pretending.”

Gkika let out a long, miserable groan.

“Just leaf me to die,” she pleaded.

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that.”

Her “rescuer” did not put Gkika down, and Gkika couldn’t walk anyway so knew there was no point in getting mad about it. So while he carried her through the forest—with no sign of obvious effort—she hung there and let herself wallow in self pity.

An eternity later, he said, “I’m going to put you down now.”

“Good. Leaf me here.”

His response was to sigh and—with infuriating care—lay her down at the mouth of a cave. Gkika refused to look at him.

“I’m going to check if it’s clear. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Oh, hyu so funny.”

He disappeared inside. After a moment, there was a cacophany of growling and hissing, and Gkika considered using that as cover to go find a rock to crawl under. But no, she wouldn’t get very far, and it would be all the more humiliating to have him drag her back.

The man emerged, cleaning blood off of his sword. Gkika glanced at him to see that his face was familiar enough that she knew she’d seen it around camp, but not so familiar she had a name or background to attach to it.

Without a word, he sheathed his sword and scooped her up again.

This time she examined him more closely. He didn’t look that much older than she was, or less human. The strength said Jӓger, the lack of fangs said new Jӓger, but the way he’d given orders spoke of an authority that no freshmade Jӓger would be granted.

He gently lay Gkika down on a bedroll already spread out, and began to putter around the gave, seemingly oblivious to Gkika’s wary watchfulness as he moved spider-wolf corpses out of the way and lit a fire.

Then he rolled up his sleeves, and Gkika saw a spiderweb of scars across his skin, more than any human could survive in the space of a single military career.

“Vut is hyu?” she demanded.

“Name’s Agnar,” he said. “Though I might change it soon. It’s getting a little out-dated.”

Gkikg was about to point out that that was not what she’d asked, when Agnar began to set out bandages, ointments, and unpleasantly sharp looking little tools.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving you to die,” Agnar said, though Gkika hadn’t spoken. 

He helped Gkika to lie back, and propped up her side so he could get at the arrow. Then he handed her a thick piece of wood, which Gkika set between her teeth. Fancy Heterodyne medical mumbo jumbo or no, this was going to hurt.

Gkika threw her arm over her eyes. 

“Hy vvff hy vff fff.”

Agnar removed the stick.

“Hy vish Hy vuz dead,” Gkika said.

Agnar replaced the stick.

“You’re going to wish it even more in a second.”

He was very right.

Gkika nearly cracked the stick in half, and did not judge herself for the tears of pain that streamed down her face as she fought to keep still. She passed out twice: once when he’d pulled the first of the arrows from her leg, the second time when it was over, out of sheer relief.  

When she woke, she was bandaged, the pain was a thobbing ache, and Agnar was cleaning his hands with something sharp and metallic smelling. For a few minutes, she watched him pack away the supplies in silence.

“Vy?” she asked at last.

“Hmm?” he said, not looking up as he began to slice a hunk of spider-wolf meat off the bone.

“Vy stay und risk hyuself to help me?”

“Ain’t much of a risk.” 

“If de pipple from dot town find us, dey vill kill uz both.”

“If they find us, they will certainly try,” Agnar agreed. He speared the meat on a spit and set it over the fire.

“Hy izn’t even a Jäger! Hy is just vun of de idiots dot rides vit dem. Vy vaste hyu time?”

“Not a waste.”

“Hyu iz avoiding de qvestion.”

“Heh. Spose I am.”

Gkika pushed herself up on her elbows and glared at him. He at last looked up at her and tucked a smile away in the corner of his mouth; held up his hands in surrender.

“You think you’re the first person to ride with the Jӓgers to almost get themselves killed doing somethin’ stupid? Most people who go riding with the Jӓgers die doing somethin’ stupid.” He paused, thoughtfully. “Most Jӓgers, too, come to that.”

“So?”

Agnar’s expression grew more serious.

“You didn’t get killed doing somethin’ stupid. You survived doing somethin’ stupid. Hit with three arrows, fell into a ditch, stuck in there for nearly five hours, and you were still movin’ around when I found you. I could have put you on a horse, same as Ivan, but that’d run the risk of more damage. As it is, if you’re careful about keeping the wounds clean and you go see a doctor when we get home, you’ll be fighting fit in time for the next raid.

“I said it wasn’t a waste, and I meant it. A person tough enough to survive taking three arrows makes for a good fighter. But a person who can keep going after that, who can push through the pain, who can flat out refuse to die? That is the kind of person who survives the Jägerdraught.”

Gkika stared at him. Agnar did not respond, but waited for her reaction.

“Hy neffer said Hy vanted to be a Jäger.”

“But you do.”

Gkika looked away.

“There’s two types of people who ride with the Jägers: the ones who do it for fun, and the ones who don’t. The Heterodyne doesn’t look for Jägers in the ones who are here for the fun, and the only way he knows which is which is if someone tells him.”

“Hy iz not ready yet,” Gkika muttered. “Hy’z not good enough.”

“It ain’t about when you think you’re good enough. It’s about when the Heterodyne thinks you’re good enough. Let me tell you: it takes a hell of a lot less time to learn to be a good fighter than it does to learn to ignore the part of you that worries you’re not good enough.”

“Hy vill be!” Gkika growled.

“Sure. But you’ll be ready before you feel ready. S’how it goes for pretty much everybody. It’s natural,” he assured her, pulling a pipe out of his pocket. “When we get back to camp, go to one of the generals and tell them you want to be considered.”

She snorted.

“Zog vould neffer allow it. He hates me.”

“You annoy him,” Agnar corrected. “Which, to be fair, you do on purpose.”

Gkika scowled.

“Iz not my fault he can’t take a joke,” she muttered.

“Fortunately for you, Zog does not get to decide who becomes a Jäger. The Heterodyne does. And if Zog puts in a bad word for you with the Heterodyne—not that I think he will, but if he does—I’ll put in a good one.”

Gkika snorted.

“Und de Heterodyne vill listen to you,” she said, disdainfully.

Agnar reached into the fire with his bare hands and drew out a red-hot coal. He lit the pipe, tossed the coal into the fire, dusted off his steaming fingers, and leaned back against the cave wall. 

“Yup.”

It struck Gkika all at once, and she opened her mouth. Then she shut it.

“If Hy say vut Hy tink hyu is,” she said, carefully, “und Hy iz right, iz dot a ‘hyu heff to kill me’ type ting?”

There was a gleam in Agnar’s eyes, but it seemed like a good one.

“Tough and smart. That’s good.”

Gkika decided to take that as a yes.

She ate the spiderwolf meat, which was gamey and strange, but filling, and fell asleep. When she woke, night had fallen and the fire was banked to coals. Agnar was staring into the dull red glow and smoking his pipe, the two lights casting strange shadows on his face. He looked no older than before, but the proportions of his face were…off, somehow.

“Vut if dey make fun ov me?” she asked.

“For what? Taking an arrow to the ribs and living to tell about it?”

“For needink to be rescued.”

“Oh, they’ll give you grief for it, no ifs about it. If you laugh with them, or make the jokes yourself, it’ll die down faster. Fightin’ ‘em on it just encourages them. But laughing at you ain’t the same as losing respect for you, which is what you’re actually worried about.”

Gkika scowled.

“Und hyu know me so vell, do hyu?”

“I’ve known people like you.”

“Haff dis conversation a lot, den?”

“Only when I think it’ll work,” he said. “And only when I think it’s worth it.”  

Agnar put out his pipe and lay down beside the fire, tipping his hat over his eyes.

“Rest up. We leave at dawn.”

“Vill Hy be able to valk by den?”

“A little bit.”

“You iz going to carry me again, izn’t hyu.”

“Only to my horse. You’ll ride, I’ll walk.”

“Sidesaddle,” Gkika said, suddenly. “Like a fancy lady.”  

Agnar didn’t tip his cap up, but she saw him smile. They fell silent, the night hush falling in around them.

“Tenk hyu,” Gkika said, suddenly. “For puttink me back togedder. Und de odder ting. Hy owe hyu—”

Agnar waved a lazy hand.

“Relax, kid. It was a little patch up and a pep talk. Nothin’ to hold over yourself.”

Gkika decided to say nothing, for now, but in her heart knew she owed this man more than she could ever repay in a single lifetime.

But Hy vill have plenty of lifetimes, she thought, determination settling in her bones. Because Hy vill be a Jӓger.

[luvrbunni]

i was a loserboy a back in early college days. had a friend who was androgynous and transitioned midway thru freshman year that i was down bad for but he had a girlfriend. well she broke up with him when he came out cause she "wasn't interested in dating a dude." cut to us hanging out more, he said he was only interested in women and I respected that, but like, I was down atrocious. one night while just asking each other dumb questions while drinking I confessed to having not gotten past chaste kisses. he laughed and told me that was sad, I told him i knew, and he then told me we could fix that. i was so confused/excited i just let out a "huh?" and he just smirked and straddled me and kissed me. I immediately moaned and bucked against him as he grinded into me. my hands went along his sides down his binded to his hips and held him against me. we furiously made out for a bit and then he got up quickly and dropped his shorts while just saying "Off" so at the same time I scrambled to get my jeans past my legs before he grabbed my cock and while looking me in the eye slid me all the way end. ending with a very pleased MmmMMm before closing his eyes and just rocking back and forth. he took my hand down to play with his tdick while he continued slowly riding me and i sputtered that I was gonna cum already and he kissed me again as he sunk all the way down then we just kept making out as he rode me. I ended up cumming in him another time while he rode me, then we switched to missonary cause he got tired and I emptied another load in him.

thank you so much anon for gifting me with this beautiful novel.... this is like. my dream scenario. will be ill about this for days to come.

ive made a recent friend at art school whos like kind of a huge nerd and we've talked about all sorts of things. i ended up talking about an old bad relationship i had and he said something about being really happy to have met me. we've talked about past experiences, he mentioned never having been kissed before and got a little embarrassed (so cute). there were other things, soft lingering touches during lectures and leaning in a bit too close to talk to me than what's normally acceptable, we slept on each other on the bus back home a couple of times.. etc.

i am becoming maybe increasingly down bad for him and ngl this is only making me worse...

unfortunately we dont see each other as often anymore since we have different classes this semester but ugh... doesn't help that my type is like geeky nerdy guys😞

[welldonebeca]

A Perfect Match**

Summary: To Ravenna, her little sister deserves only the best when it comes to marriage: a man who will adore her and wants her for his wife not because of her money, but because he loves her deeply. It’s why she brought Rosetta to their mother’s land, so she could have the same luck their parents had when they fell in love. Rosetta and Mr Samuel Winchester hit off so quickly and so easily, it must simply mean to be. If only his older brother and her older sister didn’t hate one another so much. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Ravenna Matarazzo (OC), Sam Winchester x Rosetta Matarazzo (OC) Warnings: Regency Era – very loose historical accuracy (I’m a lot of things, but not a historian). Smut. Tension. Patreon Promo.

Dean tossed his head back in pleasure, resting it on the fluffy pillow behind him as his sweet ballerina slowly sunk on his cock, steady and with the thigh firmness he’d only find on her well trained body.

“Fuck, yes,” he moaned, focusing his eyes between her legs to watch his cock be swallowed by her beautiful pussy, disappearing in her trimmed curls and surrounded by her warm wetness.

Oh, to live his life buried in her cunt.

Dean wasn’t a fool, he didn’t keep her. Sometimes he sent her gifts and tokens, but he and Lisa weren’t much more than two people who shared fun times occasionally.

She rested her hands on his chest, not for balance but to tease him, moving up and down to make him shiver as she moved her hips, taking him eagerly, wet and slippery, and she rolled her hips in search of her own pleasure.

His eyes travelled up to her body, slender and toned, and the prettiest small tits, just fleshy enough to bounce when she rode him.

So damn willing, his ballerina, always eager for his cock.

It was torture some days, watching her move her body like it was as light as a feather, dressed in her light fabrics, showing off her arms and the way down her neck without a thought.

And the way she looked at him….

Dean grabbed her by her hips, pushing himself all the way into her cunt and flipping their position so she would lay under him, and fucked her so fast her voice came out in little stutters.

Some nights, he liked thoroughly using her, fucking her slowly, near torturing her.

Dean had made her cum so many times one night she couldn’t stand when he left her.

That was a good day.

But Sammy was coming back home in the morning, and he wanted to sleep before Bobby was knocking on his door, and the old man always arrived far too early for everything.

So he was in a little bit of a rush.

Dean fucked Lisa into the bed, closing his eyes as the pleasure made him grunt, filling his veins.

It was a fucking good pussy.

“Gonna fucking breed you,” he grunted. “Fill that flat little belly up, making it fucking round.”

He couldn’t help himself, moving his hand down her belly to where he could feel his cock inside her, and Lisa moaned pathetically loud.

“Good girl,” he hissed.

Dean moved his hand, rubbing her clit with his thumb, holding himself back as he played with her.

What kind of man would he be if he didn’t make her cum before he painted her skin?

So he played with her, until she was crying and moaning so loud all her little friends could hear her, and her cunt was squeezing him and milking Dean.

He held back, groaning deeply in his throat as she squirmed and moaned and cried.

Dean pulled out from inside her seconds before the orgasm hit him, taking his cock in hand and stroking himself, moving to aim for her belly as she panted under him, and he sat down on her mattress to calm himself.

That was the good life.

Lisa nestled against Dean's chest as he lay down, her lips finding his in a tender kiss.

“Are you spending the night?” she asked, her fingers brushing his hair gently and slowly.

Dean sighed, closing his eyes.

Oh, how he wished he could.

“Not tonight,” he told her. “Sammy is coming home.”

The season was starting, and his brother was looking for a wife, someone to continue the Winchester legacy so Dean didn’t have to deal with the hungry hyenas throwing their daughters in his direction, looking for the Winchester title.

Sammy was old enough to find a wife now, and Dean was going to help him by chasing off the opportunistic ones.

Lisa smiled softly when he turned his eyes to her.

"I'm sure you miss him," she murmured, pressing another kiss to his cheek. "I won't keep you."

Dean hummed in agreement, returning her kiss before getting up from the bed to retrieve his clothes, still scattered across the room. He dressed quickly, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to at least get it decent before he went on his way.

Oh, he just knew he had overstayed when he walked out to his horse and saw the darkness of the sky was slowly giving away to light. He patted Baby’s neck as he urged her to make her move faster, out of the theatre and to the street.

Dean was in such a rush he was shocked when he reached his street and heard the sound of someone hitting something, and looked around for someone in distress.

But there was no distress. Instead, he looked up, and his gaze caught by a lone figure in an upstairs window, struggling to close it against the morning breeze.

And what a beautiful sight she was for dawn. Pale, with pink cheeks and midnight dark hair and beautiful large tits that certainly caught his attention as they moved in reaction to her body moving.

"Cosa testerda," she muttered, her words foreign to Dean's ears but her voice very, very interesting.

He could see her figure as she moved, free from all the layers little ladies used to wear and illuminated by her sunlight.

Dean couldn’t help chuckling at the sight, right before the window fell closed, and her eyes found his, full of embarrassment as he watched her, terribly amused, dark and bird-like in how they moved and found him.

She stood there, frozen, and Dean made no attempt to avert his gaze as the sun's rays slowly hit her. He couldn’t stop staring for a moment. Actually, he wished he could see her closer.

They hadn’t met, not that Dean remembered, and he would remember those eyes and tits everywhere.

Her pale cheeks went pink, and he tilted his head, greeting her quietly, with a tip of his hat, right as she rushed away from the window, hiding behind the curtains and still slightly visible through them.

It was very improper, what he had seen.

He couldn’t quite care, in all honestly. She was a beautiful sight, one way or another.

Dean was very much still smiling to himself as he urged his horse forward and back on the path home and the clip-clop of Baby’s hooves echoed through the empty street, but he couldn’t quite get the house out of his mind.

. . .

"A Perfect Match" is a Regency slow burn AU. To read it now, consider subscribing to my page! It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

[yoosungisbabie]

you're my gift - day two

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: G

prompt: receiving gifts

warnings: none♡

word count: 3,045

ao3 link

“You are adorable, Jumin,” she said, watching his jaw muscles tighten and his eyes flicker to hers. She was savoring the way he began to blush when he pulled her into another hug, leaning down to embrace her completely. “That title is reserved for you,” he mumbled, almost in a pout, making her heart flip at the uncharacteristic way he’d spoken. “We can share,” she responded, hearing him laugh through his nose quietly.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

She hummed lightly to herself, ambling slowly past the shops as she made her way toward Jumin’s apartment building. She was early; he wouldn’t be home from work for another 20 minutes, so she decided to take her time on her way to see her fiancé.

As she approached the small flower shop on the corner, she wondered why the cozy storefront always made her stop and admire all of the different arrangements. Bending down to smell a gorgeous bouquet of lilies, she smiled and wondered if Jumin would enjoy receiving a bouquet of flowers.

Since the beginning of their engagement, she’d been hesitant about giving Jumin gifts. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already have everything, and all of his clients and business partners often provided unsentimental gifts whenever they held meetings or finalized deals. It felt like a losing game for her to try and one-up any previous gift he’d gotten, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to try.

She glanced around until she found a small, simple bouquet that made her smile. It had a mixture of red and pink roses, daisies, and some gentle, green foliage that made it just intricate enough that she thought it would do.

After purchasing the arrangement and speaking with the shopkeeper about how inviting their storefront was, she continued along the path toward the apartment building. She was thinking it would be a nice change of pace for her to meet Jumin up in the penthouse when he arrived home instead of in the lobby.

She smiled to herself as she rode the elevator up, exchanging a friendly greeting with the chief of Jumin’s security once she’d arrived at the top floor.

“Is there anything you need from us, Miss MC?” he wondered, keeping pace with her as they walked toward the entrance to Jumin’s penthouse.

“Will you make sure he knows I’m already up here when he arrives? I don’t want him to wait for me downstairs,” she smiled, bowing gratefully as he agreed and opened the door for her.

“Thank you,” she grinned, feeling the familiar smell and noise of his apartment settle around her. Elizabeth the 3rd called out to her from Jumin’s room, meeting her at the door excitedly only moments later.

“Hello, lovely!” MC smiled, reaching down to pet her as she slipped her shoes off. She made her way through to the kitchen as the cat followed where she grabbed a simple vase from the cupboard. She prepped the flowers, arranging them nicely and leaving the display visible on his kitchen island.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” she whispered to Elizabeth, receiving a soft meow in reply and chuckling to herself.

“I hope so,” she replied, removing the informational card that came with the flowers from its packaging and leaving a simple ‘I love you’ on the backside.

After only a few more moments, she heard the distant ding of the elevator arriving at the top floor. She headed toward the entryway, turning the corner just as he opened the door and met her eyes in anticipation.

Seeing Jumin soften as soon as he laid his eyes on her was always one of her favorite parts of the day. The slope of his shoulders became less intense, his hands relaxed, and the set of his brow eased up so much that she wondered if it hadn’t been hurting all day.

“Welcome home,” she smiled, rushing over to meet him with a swift kiss and a lingering hug. He pulled her close by the small of her back, exhaling slowly against her and humming a mumbled hello into her ear.

“My last meeting didn’t run over. Was there another strange man in the lobby today?” he wondered, pulling away from her to look her once over. She chuckled, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly and fix a few stray hairs.

“Oh, I can’t meet you up here?” she teased, stepping only a pace away so he could put his briefcase to the side and shrug off his suit jacket. He first replied with a low laugh, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll admit that I prefer you waiting here in a safe place, but I’m just curious as to why,” he explained, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead as he awaited her answer.

“I brought a gift home and didn’t want it to be spoiled for you right away,” she smiled, watching his eyes widen ever so slightly and flit around the room.

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” he asked, letting her take his hand and begin to lead him towards the kitchen.

“No occasion,” she shrugged, rubbing a thumb over the backs of his cold fingers. Once they had rounded the corner, she noticed how insignificant the bouquet looked in contrast to his exquisite kitchen and living space. Biting her tongue, she looked up at him, wondering if he would even notice that she’d placed it there.

Instead of looking right past it, she watched as his gaze moved quickly back and forth from her to the gift on the counter.

“You brought me flowers?” he asked, just above a whisper, the question making her stomach tighten even more.

“They made me think of you,” she replied weakly. He reached down to wrap her in a tight hug, making her blink in surprise and hesitate for almost too long in reciprocating his embrace.

“This was an absolutely lovely surprise to come home to,” he murmured into her hair, nearly lifting her off the ground as he pulled her tightly into his chest. She bit back a larger smile, lightly scolding herself for being so insecure.

“Thank you, darling,” he continued, pulling away only enough to kiss her cheek before hugging her tightly again.

“You’re welcome, Jumin. It can only convey a fraction of the love I have for you,” she replied in a whisper, feeling his hands twitch slightly as they splayed out across her back. He didn’t respond, pressing his lips down onto her shoulder for a long moment before finally pulling away.

She was surprised to see the highest point of his cheekbones had slightly reddened, his eyes having a gentle sparkle in them that might have just been from the setting sun across the horizon. He was focused only on her, placing a hand on her cheek and tilting her head up gently.

“I love you,” he said softly, making her heart stutter even though she heard him say it every day, multiple times a day. Placing her hand over his, she leaned into his touch, nodding in complete content.

“I love you, Jumin.”

—

It was only a few weeks later that she decided to get him another gift. They had started having lunch together at his office on a biweekly basis, and it had become such a highlight of her day that she wanted to express that to him somehow.

While exploring the antique shop in the basement of his apartment building one day after work, she came across a picture frame that stuck out to her. While admiring it, she thought of the perfect picture to frame inside it, quickly purchasing it and heading home so she could prepare the gift before their lunch meeting the next day.

“Good afternoon, Jaehee!” MC smiled, walking towards the assistant’s desk the following day and setting down the coffee that she had grabbed on the way. Jaehee smiled, her shoulders loosening as she laughed a little.

“I appreciate you,” she grinned, taking a small sip of the coffee as MC chuckled.

“And I appreciate you, ma’am,” she replied teasingly, knowing that Jaehee felt strange every time MC called her that.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Jaehee chuckled, turning her attention back to her computer screen. MC laughed to herself, walking past her desk and down the hall towards Jumin’s office.

He had begun to leave his door propped open when he knew she was coming, something he would have never done if not for her. She peeked past the door frame, seeing him nearly frowning as he concentrated on his monitor.

“Mr. Han?” she called, altering her voice ever so slightly. His eyebrows twitched downward, his fingers not faltering as he continued to type.

“Not at this moment. I’m waiting for my fiancée,” he replied, almost foregoing a glance in her direction. When he looked up, he immediately sighed in mock annoyance, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Should I have Assistant Kang alert me as soon as you arrive? You are something else, my love,” he teased, immediately standing and smoothing out his slacks as he started towards her.

“Have your phone update you when I arrive at this location if you’d like. It won’t stop me from messing with you,” she replied snarkily, laughing when he narrowed his eyes at her and playfully lunged forward to pull her into his chest. He started to tickle her, pressing multiple kisses to her cheeks as she squirmed. When his hands bumped hers behind her back as she hid her gift from him, he settled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips in greeting and looking at her curiously.

“Did Assistant Kang ask you to bring in a report?” he wondered, leaning forward to look over her shoulder. She pressed the picture frame tightly against her back, holding back a grin.

“No. I brought you something for your desk,” she replied, seeing his expression continue to grow in curiosity.

“My desk?” he repeated softly, stepping back from her so she could present it to him. She pulled it out from behind her back, revealing the picture frame that she had found. It was certainly old, being primarily made of black wood. The frame was outlined in worn, gold trim that had Victorian accents to it, making the whole thing remind her of Jumin. The picture she’d decided to place inside was the photo they’d taken when Jumin had finally convinced her to dress up in a couple’s Halloween costume together last Autumn. It always managed to make him laugh, even just a little.

She watched as his eyes widened and scanned the frame multiple times before he finally looked up at her, grinning briefly before dropping his smile to try and speak.

“It’s–” he started, laughing breathily and shaking his head. “I love this.” She watched him as her heart grew in her chest, her fingertips tingling at the amount of love for him flowing through her veins.

“I’m glad,” she replied softly, letting him take it from her hands and examine it more closely.

“I’ll keep it in my office here,” he nodded, taking her hand in his and leading her over to watch him place it on his desk. “Yes, I think this will be efficient in motivating me when I begin to tire.” He squeezed her hand in his as he continued to admire it, exhaling happily. She looked up at him, seeing how effortlessly he was able to smile and wondering if he had always been like this when he received gifts.

“You are adorable, Jumin,” she said, watching his jaw muscles tighten and his eyes flicker to hers. She was savoring the way he began to blush when he pulled her into another hug, leaning down to embrace her completely.

“That title is reserved for you,” he mumbled, almost in a pout, making her heart flip at the uncharacteristic way he’d spoken.

“We can share,” she responded, hearing him laugh through his nose quietly.

“Thank you for this thoughtful gift. Thank you,” he said softly as she closed her eyes, feeling her emotions bubble up into her throat. She wished she could always make him feel like this. There was so much love for him inside her, and helping to show him even a little bit of it felt like an accomplishment that she could be proud of.

Once she’d realized how meaningful gifts were to him, she put a little more thought into them, waiting for the perfect moment to surprise him with one in particular.

—

After another week of tight schedules, long meetings, and calls that seemed to drag, Jumin was finally finished. He’d been working tirelessly to lock in the biggest deal in years, and all of his efforts had paid off. He’d let everyone in the office go home early, and as he stumbled through the door that night, he felt blessed that his fianceé was already waiting there for him.

“Jumin, congrats!” she exclaimed, having tied up a few silver balloons around the apartment. He smiled tiredly, chuckling as she rushed over to meet him.

“Thank you, my love,” he replied, pressing a swift kiss to her cheek as she stood on her toes to hug him. He reciprocated her embrace, feeling the fuzzy edges of sleep threatening to close in already.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted,” she said, pulling back and taking his jacket for him. He shook his head minutely, smiling at the warmth that constantly emanated from her.

“With you here, I could run a marathon,” he replied, knowing that neither of them believed that. Jumin was more than ready to take time to rest, and he knew that he hadn’t succeeded in hiding how much of a toll the project had been taking on him the last few weeks.

“Okay, strong guy,” she snickered, hanging his jacket up and holding her hand out for him. “I have some wine ready, and I have a little present that I’ve been saving for this occasion.” He blinked down at her, following without complaint.

“You’re much too thoughtful. You didn’t have to go to the trouble,” he said softly, seeing her flash him a feigned look of offense.

“Trouble,” she scoffed, leading him over to the couch to sit down next to her. She handed him a glass of wine, pulling out a large box wrapped in purple and silver foil. Jumin hesitated to continue with the sip of wine he’d been taking, not wanting to stain anything as he moved forward in surprise.

“What kind of present is this?” he wondered aloud, setting the wine down on the coffee table as she giggled quietly next to him. He received the box into his lap, delicately breaking open the wrapping and taking the lid off the box.

Taking out the large, white item, it took his strained eyes just a moment to realize what he was looking at.

“Elizabeth, I think your father needs glasses,” MC muttered under her breath to the cat, glancing back at him as he held the object further away from himself.

“I’m…” Jumin started, trailing off as he struggled to contain the emotions that threatened to spill out.

She had gotten him a pillow of Elizabeth the 3rd’s face. There was no blur; it was a perfect replication of her beauty, and it was unlike any other gift he’d ever even heard of.

“I know it’s cheesy,” she chuckled lightly, looking over to see his eyes sparkling with tears. She blanched, panicking and scooting closer to him.

“I’m sorry, Jumin. Do you hate it?” she wondered, watching as he placed it in his lap and felt at the whiskers that had been placed in the cushion as if they were real.

“Why would you think that? This is the most amazing gift I’ve ever received,” he replied, looking at her in disbelief and awe. She held back a bigger smile, sighing quietly in relief and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You think so? I wondered if you would like to put it on the couch in your office or in the study here at home,” she offered, watching him nod and blink his tears away.

“What an excellent idea. Every time I see this, I will think of my two favorite ladies in this world,” he agreed, moving the pillow back into the box for safekeeping and turning to face her. She grinned, slightly surprised when he pulled her into a hug where they sat.

“I’m sure you’ve had a long day, my love. Would you like me to run you a bath? Is there anything special you’d like to eat? We could even go out if you’d like,” he began, smoothing his hand over her hair as he spoke. She laughed lightly, shaking her head at the outpouring of affection her gift had spurred from him.

“No, I’m alright, Jumin. I’m just here to spend time with you,” she replied with a laugh still in her voice. He hummed, the sound buzzing through her collarbone as he pulled away to meet her eyes. They were filled with such intensity that she didn’t speak before he had a chance to.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he wondered, tracing a gentle finger over her cheek. She felt her heart flutter at his unexpected words, blinking up at him in surprise.

“You tell me every day,” she replied in a whisper, gripping the fabric of his shirt on his forearm that gently held her waist.

“That I do,” he nodded, holding her gaze as their breathing began to slow. “And I know that you love me too. It’s obvious,” he continued, moving forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. She felt her core begin to twist and butterflies begin to swirl, so she cracked a small smile.

“I didn’t realize you liked gifts so much, Jumin,” she said, barely able to speak above a whisper. He pressed another kiss to her cheek, his breath warming her face as he gently laughed.

“Gifts from you,” he clarified, his nose brushing hers as he locked eyes with her once more. She pressed her lips together in anticipation, feeling the heat of his hand against her waist begin to burn.

“You’re my gift.” His eyes looked between both of hers, his eyebrows drawing down ever so slightly before he dove down to bury his face in her neck and pull her into a tight hug once more. He’d lost the ability to form words, feeling like his heart would burst at any moment.

Neither of them let go for a long while, wondering if the other could feel how strongly their hearts were beating with love for each other.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

thank you all for reading! thank you as well for the overwhelming support you gave me on the first entry for this event! seeing reblogs and likes in my notifications is a lovely thing <3

stay tuned, and thank you again!

Mel x

[lordgrimwing]

Teasing #02

[For C+C week hosted by @candcweek. Prompt: loyalty -- kind of, I tried]

The first snow fell in the late afternoon, blanketing everything in a thin layer of white that reflected the last rays of light. A glass prism hanging just inside one of the windows of the snow-dusted house gleamed in the light, spreading a burst of colors around the living room. 

Curufin sat on the heavy rug in the middle of the dancing light. “Oh!” He said in a delighted whisper. “Look at all the rainbows, Brimby.”

A black-haired baby rested in his arms. Swaddled in the same cloth his grandparents wrapped his uncles in, Celebrimbor was snug and warm and halfway asleep already. His little eyes opened slowly at the words, and he blinked blearily up at the red, green, and blue sparkles on the ceiling. 

The lights were interesting enough to pull the baby back from the edge of sleep. Blinking twice more, he opened his little pink mouth. His father grinned, constantly thrilled by any of his gurgles or burbles. This time, he blew a little spit bubble. It sat on his lips for several seconds before popping.

Curufin leaned down and nuzzled their noses together softly. Celebrimbor giggled. 

“I take it all back,” Celegorm said in a lazy tone, lounging by the popping fire in the hearth and scratching looping designs into a long bone (from a small deer or maybe a large goat) with the tip of his belt knife. “He couldn’t possibly be anyone else’s kid.” 

At the start of the year, the entire family had wordlessly agreed that the fifth son was more than a little crazy when he rode home with Mirioneth from town and announced proudly that she’d be the mother of his kid before long. The repeated reminder that she worked as a prostitute and might be having anyone’s baby fell on deaf ears. Curufin never wavered. 

In an uncharacteristic show of restraint, Celegorm kept his doubts to himself, or at least to between himself and the animals he spent most of his time with—he thought he ought to keep himself as a neutral shoulder for his favorite brother to cry on when the baby was born and revealed to not be his. He hadn’t thought for a moment that Curufin would be vindicated in the end. Yet, after the baby (a little boy with wispy black hair who screamed louder than his mother when he came out) was washed and fed and sleeping soundly, Fëanor took one look at him and said there was no denying that he was part of the family.

Curufin was so delighted with his son’s noises that he didn’t notice the sly jibe in his brother’s words. 

“Yes you are,” He said in a high-pitched voice usually reserved for particularly cute, hapless lambs or kids. “You’re my little boy. Aren’t you? My little Brimby.” The words dissolved into bubbly noises.

Celegorm rolled his eyes and bit down on a smile. He didn’t understand his brother’s obsession but a nagging feeling at the back of his mind warned him to not joke about it too much because once the baby was a little less delicate, he might love being an uncle just as much as his brother loved being a father. He recalled the way Maedhros and Maglor held and played with tiny Amras and Amrod when they were born (he’d been thirteen and more interested in the new responsibilities he was given than in looking after the babies). Vaguely, from the deepest recesses of his mind, he remembered Pa sitting him in his lap and helping him carefully hold new-born Curufin—he was so nervous and excited to have a little brother (Carathir didn’t count because they were only a handful of months apart).

“Curufin.”

Celegorm’s eyes jumped over to the sole armchair placed near the fire. Celebrimbor’s mother sat knitting a painfully slow scarf. Her expression was pinched and unhappy. 

“He’ll stay up crying if you rile like that,” She said.

“What do you know?” Celegorm shot back before anyone else could respond. He straightened up so that he could glare at her easter. The knife bounced in his hand as he pointed it at her. “You don’t care about him. You’re just here to feed him.”

“Don’t tell us what to do,” Caranthir snapped at her from the other side of the room where he was helping the twins warp table looms in the fading light. 

“Caranthir!”

The brothers flinched. Celegorm hastily put his knife away.

Nerdanel loomed out of the darkness in the hall to her and Fëanor’s room, hair half-undone from her braids for the evening. Her ire and flyaway hair seemed to fill half the room. 

“Sorry, Ma.” Caranthir ducked his head, already chastised for his rudeness. That didn’t stop his mother from laying on more, though she restrained her volume thanks to the nearby baby. The others kept their eyes averted, hoping to avoid drawing her attention to their own behavior. Curufin even hushed burbling Celebrimbor, rocking him gently until he quieted and yawned.

When she finished, Caranthir’s face was red with embarrassment. He turned to Mirioneth and, sounding sincere, apologized for what he said. She awkwardly forgave him, no doubt uncomfortable with how they were all looking at her.

Satisfied, Nerdanel turned to Amrod and Amras. “The light’s too poor to work on that anyway. Put those away and clear the table before going to sleep.” To Curufin and Mirioneth she said, “It’s high past time for Celebrimbor to be sleeping if you want any kind of a restful night. Take him to bed.” Her direction for everyone to be in bed before the end of the hour went unsaid but fully understood.

Caranthir helped the ten-year-olds tidy up their threads and move the looks. While their mother was assuredly still listening, Celegorm politely asked Mirioneth if she needed anything before she and Curufin retired; she was a guest after all. Caranthir shot him an annoyed look. She declined, shoved her knitting into a bag, and hurried to the unwed parents’ room, made private by evicting the twins and moving them to the open spot with Celegorm and Caranthir. 

(The rearranging of sleeping rooms was a sore spot for several months but they’d all gotten used to it. Caranthir insisted the twins were better roommates than everyone else in the house.)

Amrod and Amras excused themselves to run out to the barn with a lantern to say goodnight to the sheep. In short order, Caranthir and Celegorm found themselves alone in the quiet living room.

“So,” Caranthir said, face finally returning to a normal color. “Do you think she’ll try to run tonight?”

Celegorm considered the dark windows. “First snow, new moon, no clear road to follow. She’d be foolish to try.”

“So I should hide her shoes, just in case.”

The blond grinned like one of his dogs. “We’ll get Amrod to say he did it if anyone wonders.”

“Right.”

With that, Celegorm went back to work on his bone.

[skellebonez]

Space Courtship (A MoonStone AU Fic)

What happens when you see a screenshot of Ponyo's mom while also working in fics related to Chang'e? ... this.

AO3 Link

Sun Wukong didn't power up the holographic projectors around his mountain observatory often. But when he did...

Well.

He had good reason to, of course.

He could hear the dull thrum of them right now, far off in the distance as he rode his cloud to the tallest peak he could physically create on the mountain. The peak with the careful slot that used to, and was made to, just so snugly fit his staff, reinforced with concrete and steel over the years it was in disuse. The slot that he immediately slotted his staff into and that held his staff as he lengthened it as tall as it could possibly go.

The projectors were, of course, to prevent anyone from the city from seeing anything unusual jutting into space. Like said recently retrieved staff.

Well. Nearly space.

His cloud was going to get him the rest of the way there. It was the way he had been getting out there so far, much as it exhausted him on his long journey to do so. He thought, so long ago, that he would eventually need a rocket to get to the moon. But no, his cloud would at least get him there. Getting back was the problem.

He could always hitch a ride on a shooting star, however, given who he was meeting with. And it was quite a way to ride in style.

Thankfully, he had already finished half of his current project and soon his projectors that hid everything would be a thing of the past.

She was able to mask herself alone with no problem.

He hoped that she would be able to stick around for a little longer this evening.

Their time together was going to be rare now, what with him taking on an apprentice. But it only made him more fond of each moment they would get to spent together.

Perhaps, one day, MK could meet his wife...

Well. Officially.

He'd already seen evidence of her every starlit night.

And just like every starlit night when he sent out his own special way of messaging her, courtesy of the little moon base they had fashioned together, she was already there. Beautiful and serene and larger than anyone or anything on Earth.

She always seemed so serene. He could hardly remember the last time she was truly upset by... anything, really. Well, no, that wasn't true. Not to an extent.

Upset was one thing. She was upset when she saw how he sectioned himself off from the world. Upset when she learned that she would no longer be able to make the moon itself her sole home. Upset when he hurt himself or told her of MK's upset. But not quite in the same way mortals or even celestial beings became upset.

That was to be expected when one was now an embodiment of the cosmos itself, he supposed.

But the last time she was truly upset... he remembered how the sky itself seemed to weep, not with tears but with meteors.

It was as terrifying as it was beautiful.

But always so beautiful.

They didn't even get to exchange words when he touched down on the base before she was upon him, massive form of the night sky itself reaching down and down and down until, slowly, he was encapsulated entirely with barely a fraction of her hand.

"Hello, my love," Chang'e said softly.

Looking into her eyes was like looking at all the stars in the sky all at once and like looking into a black hole as it takes in all the light around it at the same time.

"You're beautiful," he breathed out without meaning to.

"You say this every time we meet, my love," Chang'e said with a soft smile.

"And every time I mean it even more," Sun Wukong said. "Every day I am unable to see you is like being under the mountain once again."

"And what would you do if I..." Chang'e trailed off for just a moment, smirking as he form quickly shrunk down. So slowly, but also so quickly, she was but a fraction of her being. Condensed into 8 feet of beauty and grace that was wrapped in a hanfu of the stars and galaxies themselves. "Was right here right now?"

"Probably this," Sun Wukong admitted, breathless and eyes wide in awe of his beloved's presence before him. At this size her eyes did not shine like stars but like diamonds, a sheer power radiating off he very form making him weak in the knees. But none of that prevented him from reaching forward and cupping her cheek as if she was made of glass. "It never feels any less... intense."

Her smile deepened as she leaned in for a kiss, her lips meeting his in a soft, tender kiss that spoke of love and trust and everything they meant to each other. Sun Wukong wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, tongues tangling together in a dance as old as time. The air around them was charged with electricity, the very stars themselves pulsing in time with the rhythm of their love.

For a few moments, they simply lost themselves in each other, forgetting everything else in the world but the warmth of their embrace and the taste of each other's lips. But eventually, they pulled back, breathing heavily, their eyes locked in a gaze that spoke of a love that ran deeper than mere words could express.

"I missed you," Sun Wukong said softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I missed you too," Chang'e replied, leaning into his touch.

There was a moment of silence, the only sounds they could hear was the daily movement of the machines in space. Not a single other sound could be heard, par for Sun Wukong's own breathing. "But I sense there is another reason for your visit this night. What concerns you, my love?"

Chang'e asked gently, cupping the King's face so gently that the King thought he might actually be made of glass.

"I... You see..." Sun Wukong started and stopped, unsure of how to tell her what had happened. So he decided just to go with the blunt truth. "I... have a successor now."

"Ah," Chang'e said softly, moving her thumbs against his cheeks gently. "The time has come, I see. I am sure you will do wonderfully, my dear."

And there it was. The soft reassurance that she never failed to give off. Of course she knew about his plans long before they came to pass, but it never failed to amaze him how calmly she adjusted to things.

It... did honestly make him sad never to see her excited in the same way he was. But this was HER excitement. And he loved that.

"I know," Sun Wukong said, his voice heavy with emotion. "But it also means...I won't have as much time to spend with you anymore. And that thought...it fills me with dread."

Chang'e's expression softened as she leaned in to kiss him once more, her lips meeting his in a gentle, tender kiss that spoke volumes. "I understand," she said softly. "But perhaps our time together being limited means it will be that much more special. We will cherish every moment we have and make the most of it, won't we dear?"

"Yes..." Sun Wukong said softly, breathing a sigh of relief at the words. "You know just what to say to calm me."

"Just as you have for me in the past," Chang'e whispered, pulling the King into her once more. "You are the only being that can make the super novas cease when my fears and worries take hold of my thoughts. Though, perhaps now, I could put my concerns to more productive means."

"What do you mean?" He asked in confusion.

"I would like to watch over the boy," Chang'e said simply. "When I can. When he is out at night, so you may not worry as much about him yourself."

"I-" Sun Wukong almost lied, said that he was not worried or concerned. But he couldn't. Not to her face. Not to his beloved who listened to him no matter the occasion. "I... am a little concerned he may allow his invincibility to go to his head..."

"Then I shall keep an eye out."

There was no questioning that having Chang'e's eyes on MK would make things a lot easier. Not all the time, of course, he deserved his privacy! But when he was fighting demons or on delivery jobs? Perhaps then it would be a good idea to have the goddess of the night sky and the stars watch over his successor.

"Is this just because you're curious to know who I choose?" He asked teasingly.

"Perhaps a little," Chang'e admitted with ease. "But I can tell you're already quite fond of the boy, with the way your face light up only a short moment ago. Your concern about his invincibility is proof enough to me that you wish the best for his safety."

"Don't go telling him that," the king said with a laugh. "I'm trying to be the strong uplifting teacher who is confident in their student and doesn't show they're worried, ya know?"

"..."

Ah. The neutral face of displeasure.

"Talk to him? Please?" Chang'e said softly, pulling Sun Wukong’s face closer. "For me?"

Her words would have convinced him easily. It wouldn't have actually taken much more than that, maybe a soft batting of her eyes to butter him up.

The soft kiss she pulled him into though?

Well.

How could he not do as she so politely did after that?

"I will," he promised, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Tomorrow, or the next day, but I will. He does have a job after all."

"A responsible adult," Chang'e acknowledged with a smile. "A wiser choice than those before you who have chosen child successors."

He chose not to admit that MK may not be the most... responsible adult. But he was an adult nonetheless. Mostly. He thought.

... was he 18 or 20?

He really should have asked.

Sun Wukong nodded, feeling a warmth spread through him at her words when he put his own concerns to the side.

"Okay," he said, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. "I love you, Chang'e."

"I love you too," Chang'e said, her voice soft and sweet. "Now come, let's enjoy the rest of our time together before you have to go back down to Earth."

With that, she took his hand and led him to a nearby asteroid, pulling him into her lap and resting her head on his shoulder. Sun Wukong wrapped his arms around her, feeling her warmth against him as he closed his eyes and let himself simply enjoy the moment.

As they sat there in the silence of space, watching the stars twinkle around them, Sun Wukong couldn't help but feel grateful for Chang'e's presence in his life. She brought him peace, comfort, and a sense of belonging that he had never felt before.

For the rest of their time together, they simply held each other close, whispering about the future and reminiscing about the past. And as the time came for Sun Wukong to return to Earth, he knew that the memory of this moment and the love he shared with Chang'e would stay with him always.

Always.

[artssleepy]

♡ / instinct leads to comfort

♡ ship: Chisame/BEAST!Pick

♡ genre: hurt/comfort

♡ warnings: description of a panic attack, No beta we die like Beastzai

♡ a/n: I wrote this at like midnight because I was in my emo hours, I hope Nas liked it

Pick had an exhausting day, he was stressed out, Chisame didn't respond to his texts and he was growing more and more anxious the longer he rode the train. He held everything in, he didn't want to make a scene.

Instinctively he got off the train a few stations before the one that is the closest to his home. His feel were guiding him, his brain felt fuzzy and like it was running 100 MPH at the same time.

Breathing became harder and his vision began to get a little blurry. His hand struggled to put the key into the door, were they shaking so much this entire time? They felt numb, he could barely hold the handle as he opened the door.

"Pick?" A feminine voice called, he closed the door and his legs felt like they were about to give in. The woman got closer very gently, it was Chisame...he'd gone to Chisame's appartement?

But why?

Maybe his heart took him there, but his brain shamed him, everything felt so much, too much.

"Hey, hey, Woah there" she quietly said, taking away his bag and putting it to the side, "am I allowed to touch you?"

He tried to speak, but it only threw him into a fit of sobs and hyperventilation. He still nodded. She gently sat next to him, rubbing his back along the spine.

The warmth of their hands seeped through the shirt, they weren't wearing any gloves for once. "take your time... it's okay...can you do the breathing exercises we practiced?"

He tried and failed a few times, but she was always there to tell him it was okay and if it didn't work they could try something else...which seemed to be the case in this scenario.

"Okay, let's try something else", she picked out a little notebook from her skirt's pocket.

"Name three things you can see" the man took a deep breath, looking around the room.

"Your creepy cat clock" she giggled softly before he followed, "the old Halloween decorations and.." he took some more moment to breathe "you."

"That's good" she smiled, looking back down at the notebook "three things you can hear"

The started to lean slowly into their touch, mind getting a bit less crowded as he focused on the noises around him. "Your voice...the humming of the fridge and.." he hesitated a little bit "jazz music?"

"Yeah, not what I usually listen to, I know. I had someone over earlier" Chisame explained "now, can you move 3 parts of your body?"

He tilted his head slightly, one, he moved his legs to sit more comfortable, two, he gently grabbed Chisame's free hand, three. The woman smiled down at him, "do you feel ready to get up? Or do you want me to carry you to the couch?"

The doctor's cheeks flushed a little bit as he asked to be carried. She picked him up on her back and went to put him down on the couch the most gracefully they managed to.

The lady brought him a blanket, a glass of water, a snack and a weighted plushy. She always had these ready in case of a panic attack.

Once Pick felt more comfortable, they simply Cuddled and watched some old goofy horror movies together and fell asleep together on the couch.

♡ End note: sorry if the ending feels rushed I was extremely sleepy

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black Water, Chapter 13

A/N  Thank you everyone for your lovely comments on the last chapter.  I’m glad I was finally able to bring some of that Jamie and Claire attraction to a head (ahem).  There’s a bit more of that sort of thing in this chapter, before I go and cruelled separate them again.  But this chapter has Murtagh, so there’s that.

Previous chapters are available on my AO3 page.

The next morning saw Jamie and Claire sharing a simple breakfast of parritch and shy touches.  When Claire modestly asked about toilet facilities, Jamie’s face burned with chagrin as he directed her to the outdoor privy.  Netherton was equipped with modern water closets, and the disparity with his own primitive accommodations only served to underscore the wild improbability of his ever being able to provide Claire with a fitting home.

“Are ye ready, then?” Jamie asked after lifting Claire up to join him on Donas’ back.  Feeling her wrap her slender arms around his torso in reply, he whistled for Rollo and began the long walk down the glen.  Unlike the last time he rode away, on this occasion he felt compelled to look back at Lallybroch before it disappeared from view.  It sat proudly on a gentle slope overlooking the Shee, the paperwhite slopes of the Mounth forming a backdrop of endless pleats up to the azure horizon.  In addition to his fond remembrances of childhood, its four solid walls now held the memory of a new kind of love, one both magical and terrifying.

The morning was crisp, but unusually clear for Scotland in November, making the sides of the glen sparkle like a million shards of crystal, more beautiful than any manmade chandelier.  As they rode up to the bealach that divided Glen Shee from Glen Isla, meltwater streams decorated every snowy furrow with braids of diamonds.  High above a hawk circled on the breeze.

Jamie reined in Donas as the top of the pass, allowing the gelding to catch his breath after the steep climb.

“It’s so beautiful,” Claire gasped from behind him.

He twisted in the saddle, watching his Sassenach come face to face with the awe-inspiring grandeur of his home for the first time.  Claire’s wild curls were unbound and cascaded over the white fur mantle of her cloak.  Her eyes, faithful portals into her most private thoughts, shone liquid amber with unbridled appreciation.

“Aye,” he agreed.  “Tis.  But jes wait til ano’er storm blows in and ye canna see yer hand in front o’ yer face.”

“It’s not an experience I’ll soon forget,” Claire cringed.  “It changes so suddenly, doesn’t it?  One minute it’s paradise, and the next it’s trying to kill you.”

Silently sending a prayer of thanks heavenward that this time, the Highlands hadn’t been successful, Jamie grew philosophical.  He longed for Claire to understand and come to love the place just as much as he did.

“I think tis part of the beauty, ye ken.  That ye canna predict how things will be out here from one day the next, an’ so ye have tae keep an open mind.  Ye should ne’er take it fer granted.”

Claire turned her eyes away from the view and trained them on Jamie’s face, so close to her own that she could see the marine starbursts that leant his eyes their bottomless quality.  He’d been referring to their surroundings, but he could just as easily have been speaking of their relationship.

“It’s the same with people too,” she said, as much to herself as to the man before her.

Jamie leaned towards her so slowly, she felt like she was diving into pools of glacial blue.  Her lips were cold as they met his own, but heat blossomed quickly when they touched.  Her tongue snuck out to tentatively lick at Jamie’s plump bottom lip.  His answering groan was the stuff of the boulders and bedrock that surrounded them.  Soon they were devouring each other hungrily, their bodies pressed as tightly together as their awkward positions allowed.  It took Donas snorting and stamping a hoof in impatience to jolt them back to their senses, and by then Jamie’s long fingers were cradling her skull, his breathing laboured and his eyes inky and wild.  He cleared his throat.

“We should…erm… we should be goin’,” he rumbled, still not releasing his hold.

“Yes.  It wouldn’t do to be caught in a second blizzard.  No matter how pleasant it is having you keep me warm.”

Jamie reddened in pleasure, every inch the bashful schoolboy, no matter that he kissed like a satyr and looked like a Spartan warrior.  It made her wonder…

“How old are you, Jamie?”

“Nineteen.  And a half,” he added for good measure when he noticed her smile.

“Well, that explains it then.”

“Explains what?” he took the bait, looking ready to be offended.

“Why you need the guidance of an older, wiser woman,” Claire teased, enjoying the way her words made the tips of his ears turn bright red.

***

“Miserable glob o’ shite,” Murtagh cursed as he slipped and nearly fell on the icy slope for the third time.

The Highland winter had descended fierce and sudden, making the long trek up to his whisky still treacherous.  This would have to be his last visit for the season, adding to his foul temper.  At his age, there were no promises spring would arrive.

There was ice on the padlock guarding the still.  After a great deal of fussing and further cursing, the hasp gave way.  Inside, the copper pot gave an ominous gurgle followed by a belch of steam.

“O, aye, vent yer spleen ye wretched auld hag,” Murtagh muttered as he opened the spirit safe to test the output of his latest batch.  What he saw, pale gold and clear as glass, brought him up short.

“Now there’s a bonny thing…” he whispered in reverence before quickly decanting the distilled spirit and stowing each bottle carefully inside his burlap sack.  Then, as fast as he could hobble, Murtagh hurried back down the slope to his bothy, eager to sample his wares.

***

“Whose place is this?” Claire asked as Donas came to a halt next to the paddock.

“Murtagh Fitzgibbons.  A hopeless auld crank who also happens tae be my godfather,” Jamie explained as he lifted Claire easily to the ground.  “Make yerself at home,” he added.  “I’ll look fer him down by the burn.”

Claire nudged the door to the bothy open on its stubborn hinges and stepped inside the gloomy hut.  The furnishings were sparse, but the room was cluttered with the bric-a-brac of a hermit’s life: dinted tin containers, loose pages of years-old newspaper and an assortment of strange instruments.  Still, there was a low fire burning on the hearth that threw some light and more heat, and Claire was eager to warm up after their long ride.  Standing next to the mantle, she was seized by a sight so unexpected, it stopped her breath.

Jamie stamped the snow from his boots as he returned from his search.

“He’s no’ down at the burn.  His cart’s still here, so he canna have gone far.”

When Claire didn’t immediately reply, he approached to find her face was pale and her eyes wide.

“Sassenach?  Wha’ is it?  Are ye ill?”

Just as Claire was about to reply, the door flew open again and Murtagh rushed inside, hopping on his good leg and turning in a pirouette with a burlap sack brandished aloft above his head like a trophy.

“Jamie, m’boy!  James Alexander Morriston Mackenzie Fraser!  Yoo-hoo!”

The couple watched on in bemusement as the grizzled old man danced a jig, coming to a sudden stop when he lay eyes on Claire.

“Julia,” he whispered in reverence.  “I finally did it.”

Claire looked to Jamie, but he seemed just as shocked as she was.

“I’m not Julia,” she explained.  “I’m Claire.  Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

“Claire…” Murtagh repeated slowly, shaking his head as though waking from a dream.  “O’ course.  I thought fer a moment…”

“Why do you keep this picture of my mother?” she interrogated, picking up the picture frame from the mantle that had seized her attention.  “And why,” she rounded on Jamie, “are you named for her?”

“That was my doin’ lass,” Murtagh interjected when Jamie got no further than opening his mouth and then closing it again.  “The lad’s father asked me tae contribute tae his name at his christening, knowing I’d have no bairns o’ my own.  Sae I named him Morriston after the loveliest person I e’er kent.”

“My mother?” Claire clarified.  “But how did you know her?”

Murtagh turned away, but not before she saw a look of aching regret pass over his face.

“There’s naught but pain an’ sufferin’ tae be had diggin’ up the past, lass.  Best leave it behind ye, where it canna cause any more harm.”

Jamie could tell by the look on Claire’s face that she wasn’t likely to let the matter drop, and he had a more pressing matter to discuss.

“A goistidh, can ye bring Claire back tae Netherton?  I have tae go back fer the cattle afore they starve.”

“What?” Claire wheeled on him, more than sufficiently distracted.  “Jamie, you can’t be serious.  My father… your job… you and I…”  Her hands flew about like tiny caged birds.

There was no privacy to be had in the bothy, so Jamie led Claire back outdoors by the elbow, where the bright sunlight was quickly melting the blanket of snow into slush

“Sassenach, I have a duty tae uphold.  Those kine are yer father’s property, and tis my responsibility tae return them tae him.  If I dinna, I’ll jes be ano’er thieving teuchter in his eyes.”  He bent down, trying to meet Claire’s focus where it was fixed on the muddy snow, willing her to listen to him.  Her shoulders quivered on a long exhale.

“Bloody noble Scot,” she muttered loud enough for him to grin in response.

“Ye catch on quick, Sassenach.”

Blazing eyes seized his own with renewed intensity.

“But why must I go back to Netherton?  I’m not a kine, as you so quaintly put it, nor am I my father’s property.”

Jamie sent a brief but heartfelt prayer skyward, asking for fortitude and forbearance.  He wasn’t accustomed to having his will questioned quite so frequently, let alone by a lass half his size, but damn him if he didn’t relish the challenge it presented.

“Ye canna stay in the Highlands, lass.  If I’m tae bring ye back tae Lallybroch come springtime, I’ll need tae earn the means tae pay my rents an’ feed us both, plus a little extra.   I canna ask Murtagh tae feed ye all winter, and I dinna trust anyone else wi’ yer safety.  Besides, there’ll be men out lookin’ fer ye, riskin’ their lives.”

Claire walked away a few paces, the muck sloshing over her ruined boots.  He could predict what she would say next and rushed to circumvent it.

“Please, Claire.  I want tae do ye honour by askin’ yer father for yer hand as a self-reliant man.  Dinna ask me tae debase ye nor myself by suggestin’ I do otherwise.”

At the mention of marriage, Claire’s cheeks dimpled in pleasure.  She returned to his side and clasped his hand.

“He’ll never agree to it,” she clarified needlessly.

“Aye, but at least I’ll have done my duty by ye,” Jamie held his ground with a stubborn tilt to his jaw.

“The lad’s right, lass,” Murtagh interjected from where he was eavesdropping by the door.  “Ye dinna want tae begin yer life t’gether wi’ shame hanging o’er yer names.”  From his expression, it was clear that he spoke from experience.

Claire sighed in defeat but didn’t let go of Jamie’s hand.

“You’ll come for me?”

“Aye, Sassenach.  Afore the snow on yon hills melts,” he promised, meaning it more than any vow he’d yet to take in his young life.

“Very well,” she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.  “On your way, then.  Those cows aren’t going to drove themselves.”

Unable to resist her impudent lips, Jamie bent and gave her a long, lingering kiss, unable to stop himself until Murtagh cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Look after my Sassenach, a goistidh,” Jamie demanded, voice a little rough.

“Aye, I will.  Like she was my own daughter.”

With one last kiss, the Highlander made his way towards Donas, eager to put his plan into action.  Murtagh hopped into the bothy and returned with three unmarked bottles filled with amber liquid.

“Here, lad.  Take these down tae the public house an’ see what they’ll give ye fer them.  Jes dinna let the excise man catch ye at it.”

“Don’t yet want tae keep some fer yerself?” Jamie asked as he stowed the bottles in his saddle bags.

“Bah!  There’s plenty more where those came from,” Murtagh grumbled.  “In fact, the lass and I will sample a dram jes now, tae keep us warm on the long road down tae the Lowlands.  Away wi’ ye, then!”

Claire glanced over her shoulder at Jamie as Murtagh gallantly squired her back into his humble abode.  Smiling, she blew him a kiss.  Jamie tipped his tam low over one eye in an artificial wink, causing her to laugh, which cheered him greatly.  He then whistled for Rollo, wheeled Donas down the path and cantered away.

[masterwords]

a fine line

This WIP has been sitting in my drafts forever waiting for...something. And I don't have that something, so it's just here. Hotch's injuries after Perotta should have been a little more extensive, and I can't be held responsible for putting Morgan in a situation to help him out. (2.2k messy, pointless, choppy and unedited words)

**

“Aaron?” Haley asked, swiping her hand over the once warm place he'd occupied in their bed. It was rumpled enough that she knew he had come to bed. Later than her, she'd been there hours before he came home, and now he was gone again. “Aaron?”

Silence. At first, but after a moment she could hear him in the bathroom. The shower was running, hot steam filtering slowly beneath the door. She thought about getting up, checking on him, but it was 4am. He was probably being called in and he hated to be bothered while he got ready for work. There was a certain routine he insisted on in order to prepare himself for the work he would have to do, the things he would have to stomach, the pieces of his soul he would have to guard. He had to set his mind right, block out everything that made him human.

They had argued plenty over it. She only wanted to help, to make him coffee or breakfast, help him in some way. Be part of it instead of always being on the outside. But she couldn't, and at a certain point she stopped trying. So, with one fearful glance at the closed bathroom door, she lay back down and pushed her face beneath the covers to go back to sleep. His side of the bed smelled like him and she would have to be content with that for now.

Jack woke while he attempted to drink a cup of coffee. Just a diaper change and a bottle, both of them managed to stay entirely silent so Haley could stay sleeping. It was both the most and the least he could do in his condition. Jack was a baby, he didn't need conversation, he needed action.

He managed to slip out of the house before she woke again, his starched and stiff collar high on his neck, tie pulled tight. The bruises, Perotta's marks, had deepened in the hours since the junkyard. His neck was flooded nearly black with bruises, one deep red pressure cut slicing through the middle garish and mad. Walking from his car to the front door, his mouth filled with saliva and the thought of swallowing it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He'd been spitting into a cup for the last few hours, the swelling in his throat finally reaching the point that swallowing was nearly out of the question. But he couldn't spit into a coffee cup in front of Quantico so he forced himself to swallow and nearly cried for the pain of it. His grip on the coffee cup tightened while he rode the elevator, while the saliva once again built up with nowhere to go but down or out. If he wasn't careful, he'd be sick, and then he'd really be in for it.

Gritting his teeth, he made his way from the elevator to his office without more than a good morning wave at the few people who were in earlier than he was. They probably had actual work to do, he was just hiding his injury from his wife. Home only long enough to sleep for a couple of hours. She wasn't going to understand this one, not with a new baby at home. It was a miracle he'd managed to come home and leave without Jack crying and waking Haley, and he knew he couldn't do it again.

He would have to find a way to make it seem better than it was.

The hum of the fan in his office was calming. His heart beat in time with its quiet rhythm and he popped the top off of the coffee cup to spit inside, praying no one would come and witness it. He was lucky, just barely got the lid back on before Gideon sped by with a quick glance and a wave. Anyone else and they might have stopped to chat, but even if Gideon had figured him out, seen what he was doing, he doubted very much that he would stop and inquire. Close call. He set the coffee cup on his desk and settled into his seat. There had to be something he could do to entertain his mind, focus him on something other than the strangling pain in his throat.

Garcia showed up with donuts, the giant pink box filling her arms to the brim. Maple bars, pink sprinkles, chocolate, all the classics. His stomach growled just thinking about that glazed blueberry cake donut right there in front. She was holding the box open and indicating it, like she'd picked it out just for him. “Sir?” she asked, curious at the look of desire on his features but his lack of motion. “The blueberry one is most definitely for you. The last one they had.”

He'd already attempted talking, just to himself in the car, and there was no way he could do it without coming under instant scrutiny. His voice was strangely crushed sounding, gruff and breathy, air through a bent straw. So he just smiled and reached out for the donut, placing it on the napkin she'd put on the desk for him and trying to force the words “Thank you” out as quickly and evenly as he could. She caught it, just briefly, but didn't know him well enough to say anything. He was intimidating enough with his frown set, that deep crease between his eyebrows that told her not now, maybe not ever...so she smiled at him and closed the box.

“You are ever so welcome, sir,” she said a little quieter, a little more serious before turning and leaving. Maybe she would talk to Derek, he seemed to be the only one who ever talked to Hotch with any sort of confidence. Sometimes it was uncomfortable to watch, the way he stood up to Hotch's orders, questioned them either in public or in private, but there was something there. Some mutual respect or admiration, so when he did that...Hotch listened. He may not always side with Derek when all was said and done, but he would always give Derek the floor and to Garcia that spoke volumes. So, with her box of donuts, she made the rounds until she ended at his desk.

“Hey, you,” she said, leaning against his desk. “You want some sugar?”

“Not during office hours, hun,” he replied, swirling around in his chair and waggling his eyebrows at her. “Ohhh you got maple bars!”

“Nuh-uh, that last one is for boss man's afternoon snack. You know how he gets when he has meetings through the lunch hour...I got you the chocolate with sprinkles.”

Derek scrunched his nose and frowned, but in the end he only shrugged it off and grabbed the chocolate frosted donut gladly. Any donut was better than no donut. In truth, he doubted very much that Hotch would feel like eating that or any donut after the junkyard but Garcia didn't know that, she didn't watch it happen. He was waiting for the right time to approach him about it, and watching Gideon breeze past Hotch's office told him that time hadn't come yet. If Gideon didn't think it appropriate, he would wait too.

Until Garcia opened her mouth. She leaned forward and in a hushed whisper that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, she spoke. “I don't think he's okay,” she started, flicking one finger against a crumb of frosting stuck in the corner of Derek's lips. “Can you check on him? Please?”

“Babygirl,” he sighed, shoving the last bite of the donut he'd made very short work of into his mouth. “If he's in bad shape after last night, he'll wanna be left alone for a while. He's here in the office, that's something.”

“Not enough,” she huffed indignantly, pushing the giant box at Derek's chest. One final donut remained. “Take this up to him later. That's your excuse.” He rolled his eyes but there was no telling that woman no, so he agreed. He'd go up in a bit, give Hotch time to settle into his day. Curiously, he clicked around until he was in Hotch's schedule, he had full access to it as his lead, as his former partner, and usually all he did was add things to it but slowly he poked around finding things he could pull off instead. A consult here, a deposition request there, until his schedule looked light enough that they might have time for a chat in a bit. Sure, Derek had his own work to do, but Elle and Spencer didn't look too busy so he was able to pass things on down the line.

“Hey, Hotch, you got a minute?” Derek asked, just after the lunch hour, after an entire day of tooling around without seeing Hotch leave his office one time. Not even for a quick bathroom break. Hotch nodded and slipped his hand around the coffee cup on his desk, sliding it out of the way. As if Derek wouldn't immediately notice the shift, the slight movement, and frown.

“You go to the doctor like Gideon told you to?”

Hotch glowered, his eyebrows dangerously close together. “No,” he rasped, his hand immediately flying to his throat without any thought. The sharp burst of pain at the first word he'd spoken since thanking Garcia was shocking and if he'd been standing, he might have found himself more than a little weak in the knees. Derek didn't need any other evidence before shutting the door behind him and entering Hotch's office completely.

“Let me see.”

He set the maple bar down beside the untouched blueberry donut and came around Hotch's desk, leaning his hips there casually. He reached out slowly, and backed up just a little when he caught the slightest hint of a flinch, like he was afraid. It was gone as fast as it came, and if Derek was anyone else he might blurt something out, mention it, but Derek had experience. He'd been there through others, he'd held his hand in the ambulance after Bale, he understood deeply. So he pressed forward until his lithe fingers tugged gently at the knot in the tie, loosening it just enough that he could unbutton the stiff collar on his shirt. Immediately he found himself faced with a sight he wasn't prepared for, the brutality of it immense. He ached to go back in time, the pressure of the gun in his hands, a direct line of sight to Perotta's forehead. One bullet, right between the eyes, and this damage might not be so bad.

But this was his failure. He listened to Gideon, and he let this happen. “Hotch,” he whispered, his fingers lightly dancing over the other man's jaw, trying to get a view of each angle. “I'm so sorry. I shoulda shot that bastard. I had him in my sights.”

“You did...” Hotch rasped and Derek shook his head, pressing his thumbs lightly around Hotch's adams apple just to see. He had some limited EMT training from his days with Chicago PD, and he was rusty but it was better than the nothing Hotch was willing to consent to outside of this office. The swelling was obvious, he could feel it with barely any pressure. “Gideon's orders.”

Derek scoffed. It was a little louder than he intended and he saw the corner of Hotch's lips tick upward in a small attempt at a smile. Derek loved Gideon in his own way, but he didn't like him much tehse days and he certainly didn't trust his judgment. Maybe he hadn't since Boston. “Yeah, well...”

“It's okay Derek.”

“No, it's not,” Derek said quieter, lifting Hotch's jaw to feel beneath the sharp angles. Hotch didn't fight him, didn't move a muscle. Breathing hurt enough that he was on the verge of tears with every swallow, every breath in, so arguing with Derek felt more than a little out of the question.

“Alright. Alright, I'll stop beating myself up if you stop talking...deal?”

Hotch kept up his end of the bargain, but Derek did not. He couldn't let it go. Slowly, carefully, he opened Hotch's collar the rest of the way and told him to wait a moment. Out and back in a flash, straight to the freezer for an ice pack and a cup of ice chips, then the door was closed once again. The ice pack was rested gently against his neck, against the worst of the bruises, and he let Derek hold it there for just a minute before Hotch took it in his own hand and breathed frigid relief against the cooling of his fevered skin.

“Haley must not know yet, huh? Otherwise I doubt you'd be here right now...”

Hotch couldn't help smirking and shrugging, met with only a nod of understanding.

Derek nudged the cup of crushed ice and the spoon in Hotch's direction with a smirk. “Betcha skipped breakfast...and lunch.”

Ice chips. He was starving and Derek had ice chips for him. “You want me to run out for some ice cream or something? I could use a reason to get outta here.”

Hotch smiled and nodded, still not eager to talk. Derek doesn't need him to say a word, but before he left Hotch pushed both donuts in Derek's direction. Getting to have the coveted maple bar didn't feel quite as good now, not while he was sitting here in Hotch's office being given the strangest silent treatment of his life. The first time he'd ever demanded it. But he did enjoy those donuts while he sat there in silence thinking about putting a bullet in Perotta's skull.

Right between the eyes. Pow.

[the-fiction-witch]

Witch's Wand P6

I laid on the chamise with the blanket over me watching as this... samuel man stood beyond the glass door talking with this old doctor he brought out from the local town, no one seemed to understand what I was walking about, samuel was convinced he knew me and that we were married. But I was so confused by all of this, and the more I looked at him the more I realized the small differences, in his clothes, his hair, his personality, it became more and more clear that this man was not the man I loved even if he looked like him. The fact I had changed location, I had changed time, all just by going through a single door. I waited a moment thinking of what I was to do, I needed to leave and return to my own home. He opened the door and came over kneeling beside me taking my hand, 

"Hey, how are you feeling my flower?"

"Confused, and strange."

"I imagine you are. I don't know what's happened to your memory but I'll be here for every moment until it returns,"

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll still be here." he smiled, 

"Would you tell me, what I don't remember?"

"Of course," He smiled squeezing my hand, "we both grew up in Hampstead but didn't meet till we were teenagers, 1818 at the spring festival by the river, you were sitting in the little daisy field wearing your adorable little sage green dress, making flower crowns. I went over using my little sister as a ploy. I told you she didn't know how to make flower crows could you teach her, all just an excuse to sit with you and talk, I thought you looked so beautiful. We talked for hours and we had a few little dates, finally managed to get some confidence to kiss you that Christmas under the mistletoe." he smiled, "I rode my bike every day just to come see you. When I got my job with the orchestra I had to travel but I wrote to you every time I could, telling you how I missed you, how I love you so endlessly my little flower. When I got home I knew I didn't want to be parted from you without you being my sweet wife. So I proposed and we were married, and bought this little house. Our sweet home." 

"That's very sweet, you must love her very much."

"I love, you." He said stroking my cheek, "beyond measure my flower." He cooed, 

"That is so sweet samuel,"

"Perhaps I need to remind you of how much I love you," He smirked moving to kneel on the sofa with me,

"Ohh I uhhh-"

"shh it's okay, the doctor is gone now. we're alone." He smirked, leaning down to kiss my neck softly 

"ohh uhh samuel I uhh-"

"It's alright my little flower, I'm sure it'll remind you of our sweet love, of our passionate time together." he cooed leaving a trail of sweet soft kisses down my neck as his hands slipped up my thighs, I blushed hard but he smirked and leant down kissing my lips softly and sweetly, I smiled and kissed back running my hands across his chest, he felt like Jack but thinner with not as rough fingers, and stronger arms, his hands pulled up my dress all the way up to my waist, "You are so beautiful," he cooed between kisses as he pulled his hands back unbuttoning his trousers and tugging them down and pulling out his shaft giving it a firm stroke, "that dress does look amazing on you, I kinda want you in that dress every night." He smirked, as he kissed me deeply and passionately as he held my thighs and gently guided himself inside me, I gasped which he took as a chance to intensify our kisses as he held my thighs apart as he moved his hips back and forth with gentle but smooth thrusts,

"Ohh Samuel..." I blushed hard and giggled, 

"Umm I've missed you my little flower," He smirked kissing me more intensely "Been so long since were passionate and spontaneous, I like it." He growled kissing my lips with intense passion and I happily kissed him back, this continued for what felt like hours his slow gentle but passionate work which let the pleasure build slowly like a winding spring getting tighter and tighter until I reached my high which made him bite my neck and keep going letting me ride out every moment of pleasure until he suddenly pulled out and sent his seed across my thighs "You are so perfect, thank you very much my little flower."

"You're welcome Samuel," I giggled,

He smiled and cleaned up my thighs and kissed my stomach, "You rest I'll make you some tea," He said kissing my head before he headed out of the room.

I suddenly felt terrible that I could have been taking the place of a woman whom samuel loved so much, I forced my blanket off and got to my feet I tried to leave trying to get back to the bedroom I arrived into but the door was locked this keyhole not like the door I entered though. 

Then I perked up, I pulled the wand from my pocket and pointed it to the door and watched the glittering dust move around the door until the door lock changed to be the lock from the door I came through, I rushed over and pulled open the door stepping though to the small room I entered in.