#appalled that the Commander just fucking. LET HIM CONTINUE AS NORMAL....

[attractthecrows]

Actually no let's set the da2 crew aside for a second. I want to take Solas and Dorian to Soldier's Peak to talk to Avernus the 220-some year old Grey Warden Blood Mage. I want to see HOW BITCHY Solas can get. I want to hear Dorian's commentary on how exactly fucking stereotypical it is that the blood mage with unnatural long life is Tevene. I want the Warden Commander to look the Inquisitor's team full in the face and tell them to lose their biases *immediately* because the *only* goal of the Wardens is to end the Blights by whatever means necessary, and then walk into Avernus's lab and start bleeding into bottles for him. I want Solas to lose his fucking composure in that fucked up laboratory. I want it so badly. So So badly.

[zivazivc]

Pinocchio AU

Okay people want the explanation for this comic so here it goes. It’s long and complicated and MESSED UP because of course it is, this is me. I’m going to write in points because my small tired brain can’t handle good english atm but basically to sum up the Adrien was a sentimonster theory or Pinocchio AU as I like to call it:

Young married Emilie and Gabriel can’t have kids. Gabriel reluctantly accepts this fate and even brings up adoption as a possibility once, but Emilie doesn’t want to hear any of that. She’s a bit of a Marinette in the sense that she pictures this romanticized ideal life for herself and a child—her flesh and blood—HAS to be in it.

They keep trying to get a baby while other young families Emilie knows keep growing. She feels left out and hurt and depressed, then her newlywed twin sister announces she’s expecting a baby too and something within Emilie just unhinges.

She eventually lies to some of her friends, who she was out for coffee with, that she’s pregnant too. She mostly does it just to see their reaction and feel what it would be like but it quickly spirals out of control where she just starts pretending she’s pregnant until you can’t even tell if she believes it herself.

Gabriel is confused at first because he hears the news second hand (a friend/family member congratulating him) so he’s apprehensive when he approaches his wife but she convinces him that they really are getting a baby and Gabriel is ecstatic.

It’s only later at a doctor’s check up that Gabriel learns that she indeed is not pregnant. The doctor even speaks to him alone explaining that his wife is in denial and that he should make sure she goes to see a psychiatrist, something she definitely wouldn’t do alone.

Gabriel is unsuccessful with that because he’s not entirely persistent, doesn’t want to be the guy with the crazy wife having to tell everyone she lied about being pregnant, and hopelessly believes she’ll just get over it eventually.

That is until her “pregnancy is near due”—her sister already had Félix in England a few months ago—and he stumbles on her transformed with her peacock miraculous (they already have both of them) creating a sentimonster newborn.

They have a huge fight about it but because Emilie refuses to destroy it, won’t tell Gabriel where the amok is, and Gabriel can’t just hurt the baby with his hands, Emilie just… wins. Fucked up, yeah?

Now she tried creating kids before this one, using her imagination to try and blend her and Gabriel’s looks but it just wasn’t working. So she decided to copy of photos of baby Félix because he already looked almost like a copy of his mother, and Amélie and Emilie already looked alike so it’s not so weird?—is what her mind was telling her.

She didn’t dare alter his looks but she decided to give the baby Gabriel’s eye color to include the “father” in some way. (Yes in that comic I made I gave Adrien a mix of green and gray but that was mainly to get the point across to the perceptive readers)

Now we got Adrien, a normal baby boy to the whole world except for Gabriel who’s forced into his wife’s fantasy through social expectations.

Why are we only at this point and this post is already so long AAAAAAAA!!!

Adrien physically basically grows in a way where Emilie just keeps changing his appearance to match what Félix looked like a few months prior.

Mentally he’s like a robot just taking in information without really needing to learn it. So Emilie decides when he says his first word, she decides when he learns to walk,… He knows how to walk, he just wasn’t given the command to do so yet.

But even so he does develop a personality over time, just slower, because unlike a normal child who’s always testing his boundaries, how far they’re allowed to go until they’re in real trouble, Adrien just can’t misbehave. At all.

But he does have his favorite foods and favorite toys, and jokes that make him laugh the most. The problem is just that Emilie could just decide that his favorite food is strawberries and he’d just start acting accordingly, rewiring his belief. 

He also isn’t allowed to argue or be mean to others which is why Félix thinks he’s a goody two-shoes weirdo while Chloé the brat adores him.

This behavior isn’t so hard to hide with a toddler who’s fickle but it’s harder and harder as the kid grows. Which is why the family becomes very secluded over time.

Gabriel always keeps distance with his “son”. He’s not Dad, he’s Father, he doesn’t do hugs and cuddles, he doesn’t say I love you. But Adrien knows he loves him because his mom told him so and he loves him back unconditionally because Mom said that’s what families do.

Now even though Gabriel is traumatized by this whole ordeal and knowing Adrien “isn’t real” freaks him out he does soften a bit over time. I’m going to give an awful example but like someone who hates cats softening for a cat that their partner/roommate decided to get/had from before. Continuing with this example: But still becoming appalled when the cat starts acting odd/unusually.

Okay I think you get the gist. Let’s move on…

Emilie loves her son more and more as he grows and his sentimonster behaviours start bothering her more and more too. She hates being reminded that he’s not a real boy by people mentioning he looks young for his age because Emilie forgot to make him grow for a while. She hates when he does everything like he’s told. She hates that he has no real friends because they’re afraid to expose him to the outside too much and without supervision. She hates to think about his future.

Her desire for him to be real keeps growing and is what drives her to search for a solution in the miraculous spellbook.

She cracks the script after years, when Adrien is nearly a teen, and finds a way to transfer the creators soul into a sentimonster.

It’s a long process that takes time and while she falls ill to everyone around her, Adrien becomes more real.

Gabriel starts realizing what’s happening when he notices Adrien hesitate for a second when he’s playing a video game and Gabriel wants him to do something, groan when he gets bothered watching TV, huff, complain, have slightly opposing opinions to his and Emilie’s, when he argues with his mother when she tells him she’s feeling fine; when he notices his son’s eyes are greener. Or is it all in his head?

He confronts his wife too late, when she’s extremely ill already, her normally vibrant eyes dulled match Adrien’s bluish gray, and he pieces together in his head what she’s doing.

Before Gabriel could properly think what to do to stop the love of his life from turning into a lifeless doll, in a fit of panic he tries to take her wedding band (where he knows Adrien’s amok is) to get rid of Adrien instead, but is unsuccessful in getting it off her so he snatches her peacock brooch instead (which she needs to complete the spell obvs) and breaks it. (Heyoo! broken peacock miraculous. things are coming together)

Because the spell was almost complete anyway it’s Emilie who falls unconscious. But she doesn’t disappear because she’s not a real sentimonster, she just becomes dormant like one.

This is the point in the story where Gabriel makes it seem like Emilie ran away or something like that—basically disappear. Now he’s living knowing he has an almost sentimonster wife in the basement, knowing he almost killed his son (or her), and having to care for a son that suddenly became much more alive, questioning, arguing, angry, screaming, not accepting, crying, grieving, staring at him with Emilie’s eyes.

Instead of becoming a real parent, Gabriel shuts him out.

Soon Adrien evolves desires for socializing, company, getting away from the suffocating home which eventually leads to him going to a public school.

He slowly starts to live life freely without the restrictions that were put around his thoughts.

Gabriel has an even stranger relationship with Adrien now because he still loves him in a way but also holds resentment toward him. But mostly he sees him as something valuable.

The show happens here…  And now finally we get to the comic…

Gabriel gets a hold of the ladybug and black cat miraculouses. (There’s no epic fight in his lair as you see there’s no Ladybug in the comic but that’s not really important)

What’s important is that Gabriel had deciphered the miraculous spellbook with the help of Emilie’s notes and had decided to use the unification’s “wish” power to awaken Emilie.

He’s aware he’ll need to sacrifice something for the wish to come true and he’s certain Adrien should be enough because the soul inside him is literally the one thing Emilie is missing.

✨Adrien (poor boy just lost his miraculous) is taken to Gabriel’s lair, where he finds out his father is Hawk Moth, sees his mother, learns he’s a sentimonster, and that he’s going to become a sacrifice ✨

Of course the last part is not what happens. It’s Gabriel who ends up being sacrificed.

I can’t decide if Gabriel ends up sacrificing himself because he changed his mind in the last moment while Adrien was screaming for him to stop, OR  because he didn’t love Adrien enough for him to be considered an equal exchange for his wife… O.O

But anyhow…

Emilie wakes up with Gabriel’s soul within her (hence the bluish gray eyes in the comic).

Adrien is traumatized for life.

This took me hours to write… I knew there was a reason why I didn’t want to do it. I hope I didn’t forget anything and my brain made sense of it all

Well there you have it, peeps. The Pinocchio AU. It’s as messed up as my sleep schedule. Good night. 

[mearcatsreturns]

/whispers/ So maybe I now have to ask for Ivan and the No Good Terrible Very Bad Day Attempting to Babysit a Grisha Child Who Can Summon Light and Shadow. How could this possibly go wrong.

Once again, this got long, so here's the first chapter of A Day in the Life of Ivan, Or: Ivan’s Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.

The worst day of Ivan’s life begins years before the fateful day itself, if that’s possible. He’s grateful not to know the precise day, but he knows who—or what, rather—is to blame.

It’s the damn heterosexuals. They just won’t stop fucking, and they’ve made it everyone else’s problem now.

The heterosexuals in question are, of course, Kirigan and Alina, or as they’re known now, the Tsar and Tsarina.

&&&

About three years before the Worst Day™, Ivan is minding his own business, just trying to find some decent food after returning from a mission to the northern border. It wasn’t a bad trip; Fedyor had been with him and they’d enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time together outside the political games of Os Alta.

Nevertheless, Ivan is eager to eat some food that isn’t dried and to sleep in his own comfortable bed. He’s already debriefed with the Tsar and bathed, so he’s delighted to find it’s time for dinner. It’s to be a small group tonight, just the king and queen, Nikolai, Zoya, Tamar, Nadia, Fedyor and him. He can tolerate them all (except Fedyor, who of course is the light of his life), though Alina remains permanently on thin ice. She makes the Darkling light and happy, and it’s just unnatural.

They settle around the table and fall into comfortable conversation. Tolya is on an assignment and intends to travel to Kerch after this. Tamar and Nadia are beginning to formalize their union and are looking for a house. If their bickering and the obscene looks Zoya and Nikolai are giving each other are any indication, Ivan expects some kind of announcement from them any day. The Tsar intends to invite some dignitaries from Novyi Zem to the palace in a few weeks.

And Tsaritsa Alina is pale and...unwell. She looks queasy, and Ivan feels a moment of alarm. Grisha can’t get sick, not unless they don’t use their powers. Given that Alina is the Sol Koroleva, the renowned Sun Summoner, that seems unlikely. Few things lead to such ill appearances. Maybe some kind of poison? If she or her food are being poisoned, they need to know as soon as possible.

Ivan does his usual first step; he counts the heartbeats, checking their speeds. One, two, three, four, everyone is normal, five, six, seven, eight, nine...ah, the ninth is faint and fast.

Wait. Nine? There are only eight of them here at dinner, and the attendants have long since departed.

It hits Ivan like a lightning bolt, and he gasps aloud in shock and horror. The most reasonable explanation for the extra heartbeat and Alina’s ill looks is—oh, saints protect them all—a baby.

Everyone turns to look at him, as though he is the one who’s done something strange and dangerous.

Ivan gapes at Alina and points a finger accusingly, “You’re pregnant! With a baby!”

Beside him, Fedyor closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a sigh. Tamar and Nadia exchange a knowing, amused look, though they manage not to laugh. Zoya raises one shapely eyebrow.

Nikolai grins. “One generally is pregnant with babies, as opposed to anything else. Except perhaps with genius ideas, in my case and David’s. Alina, moi tsar, congratulations to you both.”

Alina glares at Ivan. What? He’s not the unholy saint about to unleash terror onto the earth from their womb.

Once he glances at Kirigan, though, Ivan stills. The Tsar is ashen and looks as though someone has dropped an iron on his head, or told him that his beloved horse is Grisha too.

“Aleksander, I wasn’t sure. I was waiting until I was to tell you,” Alina says, one hand on her husband’s forearm. “Are...are you all right?”

The Tsar opens his mouth, but no sounds come out.

Tamar and Nadia stand, hand-in-hand. “We, ah, think we’ll take our leave now. Thank you for a lovely dinner, Sol Koroleva, my King,” Tamar says, and she and her fiancée flee.

Zoya clears her throat and gives Nikolai a look that is very different from the hungry one Ivan so despises on faces that aren’t Fedyor’s.

With a nod at her, Nikolai stands and helps her to her feet. “Indeed. Your hospitality is, as always, boundless, though I can’t help but feel we’re trespassing on it every second we linger here. Erm, do let me know when I can get you a gift.”

“Congratulations,” Zoya says, and to Ivan’s disgust, she actually sounds sincere. He watches as she and Nikolia leave, one of the Lantsov pup’s hands at the small of her waist. One would think the heterosexuals would have learned from this evening that touching each other is dangerous, but apparently some of them are just utter fools.

Fedyor elbows him, and Ivan turns to scowl at his beloved. “Wha—”

A point of his head in the direction of the Tsar and Tsaritsa quiets Ivan.

Alina is kneeling beside her husband’s chair, stroking his arm. Aleksander Kirigan, King of Ravka, Shadow Summoner, the Black General, sits still as a statue, eyes wide with shock.

“We’ll head out now too,” Fedyor says.

Ivan nods, grabbing Fedya’s arm and hauling him from the room. Over his shoulder, Ivan yells, “Good luck!”

Fedyor smacks him, whispering furiously as they close the door behind them. “‘Good luck’?! You’re supposed to say ‘congratulations,’ or ‘have a nice evening,’ you utter troll.”

“I’m a troll now? See if I give you a massage when we get back to our rooms,” Ivan grouses. He pulls Fedyor along, pulling him away from where he seemed inclined to linger by the door. Eavesdropping, pah. He can’t believe he’s married to such a busybody.

Who would want to stay to hear whatever nonsense the Darkling and his wife are about to say or do? He’s had enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.

Ivan shudders. The two most powerful Grisha on the planet, one a sun summoner and the other a shadow summoner, having a baby? The world is definitely doomed.

&&&

The next day, Ivan receives a summons to go see the Tsar. Dread churns in his stomach, and he rubs his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, especially after he and Fedyor had a tiff about “inappropriate behavior and outbursts.” And now he’s to see his boss, probably about said outburst the previous night.

He accompanies Anton, the young oprichnik to the Tsar’s quarters, and the boy brightens with excitement to be talking to one of the Tsar’s most favored Grisha. “Thank you, Andrei. I’ll make my way from here.” The boy’s face falls, but Ivan dismisses him with a nod. If the oprichniki got any more friendly, they’d start calling him Vanya without his permission. Appalling.

Ivan takes a deep breath, then knocks at the door. He’s long since learned the value of knocking after Alina and the General got together, especially now that they share their quarters. Unfortunately, no healer has yet to find something to wipe certain sights from his brain.

“Come in,” Kirigan’s faint, disembodied voice commands.

Ivan lets himself into the room, waiting while the Tsar steps around the corner from the bedroom he shares with his queen.

“Good morning, Ivan.”

“Good morning, moi soverennyi. I hope you rested well,” Ivan replies, tone funereal. Saints, he prays he’s not about to be sent to Tsibeya permanently. He runs his hand under his collar, annoyed to find he’s actually sweating.

Kirigan’s face gives nothing away. “I did, thank you. The Tsaritsa is with Genya and one of the healers.”

“And she...she is well?” Ivan gulps.

“Yes. She was apparently a bit surprised last night herself, as she’d only just begun to suspect she might be pregnant.”

As much as Ivan hates when the Tsar’s feelings show—it’s usually him making soppy, annoying faces at Alina—he wishes Aleksander would just say what’s on his mind.

“My apologies, sir, I was also surprised. She seemed unwell, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t, say, being poisoned.”

“You thought someone might be poisoning my wife?” Kirigan is incredulous.

“Things have been very calm with Fjerda lately. I don’t trust it.”

The General mutters under his breath, something about not trusting anything.

Ivan waits. Finally, Kirigan breaks the not-so-silent silence. “Well, thank you for your concern. And, ah, the surprising news.”

“You’re most welcome,” he replies gloomily.

“You don’t seem thrilled.”

“Forgive me, moi tsar, but I don’t see a need for excitement at a natural result of your conjugal activities. Sir.”

Oh, saints, is Kirigan frowning at him? Ivan mentally starts packing his belongings when the frown becomes a smile and then a laugh.

Perhaps Aleksander still isn’t quite recovered from the shock of his impending fatherhood.

He’s not paying attention to Ivan anyway. Kirigan makes his way to the table, shuffling the papers there unseeingly. “I didn’t think it was possible, you know.”

“I did not.” And Ivan would like to keep it that way.

Alas, Aleksander seems inclined to continue talking. “In all my long life, longer than you know, I’ve never fathered a child.”

Ivan grimaces. The world is probably grateful, though now it has much to fear. “It would have been challenging to have had a child during the wars, sir.”

Kirigan waves this aside, and unfortunately continues speaking. “Still, for it to happen with Alina...I’m so thrilled, Ivan.”

“And I am...happy for you, General.” Make it stop. Ivan is queasy.

“Of course, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t happen when Alina and I first got together, especially now that I know how possible that was.”

Ivan wants to cover his ears and sing “la la la la la,” but the implications of what his boss is saying finally sink in, and his horror at this whole situation increases exponentially. “Wait. Do you mean to say you weren’t using, ah, preventative measures?”

Kirigan’s face grows sheepish. “Until my conversation with Alina last night after you all departed, I wasn’t aware there was such a thing. In my day, one simply planned around the time of the month or withdrew from—”

“I beg you to stop talking. Moi soverennyi,” Ivan adds as an afterthought.

The Tsar falls silent, and Ivan sighs with relief.

But something bothers him. “Did you not get any sort of talk about how to prevent pregnancy when you were training? Even I did when I was young, before everyone knew I wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“Like I said, there weren’t those kinds of options when I was young, as far as I know,” Kirigan says with a shrug.

Ivan begins to realize that his boss is, in fact, much older than he thought. That explains the herring and rye, too. He hesitates before venturing to speak. “Do...was Alina—the queen, that is, did she explain the different kinds of birth control, or…?”

“Well, I can’t get her more pregnant, Ivan.”

It’s too horrible to even contemplate, and Ivan shudders.

Kirigan laughs and slaps his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to give me The Talk. Alina was so upset I didn’t know that she told me everything last night.”

Ivan’s lips twist in dismay at Aleksander’s rapturous expression that indicates there was a demonstration of some practical applications. Ugh. “Small mercies.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll consider this next a mercy: I want you and Fedyor to stay close through Alina’s pregnancy, especially once word gets out.”

Staying in Os Alta won’t be so bad, but the idea of dancing attendance on Alina, all while some parasite hijacks and distorts her body...well, hopefully he’ll get a good field assignment once this pregnancy is over. “Of course, moi tsar. And when will it end? I mean, ah, when is the blessed event?”

“In seven and a half months or so, perhaps eight. She’s about five or six weeks along, the healer says. And that, well…” Kirigan smiles at what is clearly the memory of this child’s conception.

Ivan fervently wracks his brain, desperate to keep his boss from offering more information that will give him nightmares about heterosexual intercourse. “And is there any way of knowing whether the babe will be a shadow summoner or sun summoner? Or both?”

A stricken look comes over Kirigan’s face. “Both?” He clearly hasn’t considered this possibility yet. “But that…” He doesn’t continue, instead going to fall into his chair and stare into distance.

It’s going to be a long few months.

&&&

It’s roughly eight months after that when Ivan is rudely pulled from sleep by Genya bursting into his and Fedyor’s room like she has the right.

It’s obscenely early in the morning, Ivan is, as is his usual habit, sleeping on his side facing the window. Fedyor, as is his usual custom, sleeps with his arm slung over Ivan’s waist and his head buried between his shoulder blades. It’s very soothing, normally.

Not today, though. The door opens with a bang, and Genya yells, “It’s time! She’s here!”

Ivan, suddenly wide awake, goes to jump out of bed. Instead, he finds that Genya has slowed their heart rates enough that hurrying is impossible. He glares at her. “What the fuck are you doing in our room? Who is here?”

“The baby is here. The tsarevna.”

“It’s a girl?” Fedyor asks with a smile.

Genya grins back. “Yes. She’s adorable.”

Ivan does not smile. “I’m glad she’s arrived. But why are you here in our bedroom at—” he glances at the clock and continues, “4:52 in the morning?”

“Everyone is going to see here. You’re the Tsar’s right-hand man, Ivan, so they’ll be expecting you.”

“Well, Genya, darling, you’ll have to let our hearts do their normal thing if you want us to do that,” Fedyor adds.

She shakes her head and drops her hand. “Of course. Sorry. See you there in fifteen minutes, and please be wearing pants. And shirts.”

Ivan grumbles, but gets out of bed. It’s difficult to want to leave when Fedyor is looking over him like that, but Kirigan probably will be upset if they don’t come to fawn over his spawn in what he deems a reasonable amount of time.

He and Fedyor make their way down the halls of the palace to Aleksander’s and Alina’s private apartment. The door is open, but Ivan nods at the guards and knocks anyway before stepping inside, Fedyor on his heels. He walks back to the bedroom, where he can hear hushed, happy conversations.

Alina is lying on the bed. She looks sweaty and disgusting, but in a radiant and maternal way that the Tsar seems to find beautiful, since he can’t look away from her. Typical, and exactly what got them into this mess.

The mess in question is wrapped in a blanket in her mother’s arms. Ivan glances at the small bundle, which seems to be sleeping. It is certainly very red.

Kirigan sits in a chair beside the bed, as close to it and his wife and new daughter as he can. He’s resting one hand on Alina’s shoulder, while the other trails along his daughter’s tiny head.

“The tsarevna is lovely,” Fedyor says, smiling down at the family.

Ivan thinks that’s a bit of a stretch, but he nods. “She looks like a baby. A healthy one.”

Fedyor elbows him, but Alina just rolls her eyes. “Thank you, I think.”

“She’s beautiful,” Aleksander says firmly, his face still disturbingly dreamy. “We’ve decided to call her Anastasia.”

Nastia. That seems about right.

Just then, the wee girl stirs and starts to wail. As her cries grow louder and Alina shifts to be able to feed her, shadows creep into the room. Then through the darkness, Ivan sees little flashes of light coming from the baby.

Fuck. This tiny child can summon shadows and light.

Nasty little Nastia indeed.

[fanficshiddles]

Don’t Disobey, Chapter 2

WARNINGS: Whipping, rape, murder.

- Loki barked orders at his other girls to not enter the bedroom until he told them it was ok to do so. He wanted alone time with his new toy, to test her out properly and thoroughly.

And thoroughly test her out he did.

First, he had her mouth, while she knelt on the floor. She looked so pretty on her knees, mouth open and tongue sticking out, awaiting his cock.

Even if she had stiffened up when he revealed his godly cock to her, she didn’t complain or try to run. She knew it would be fruitless doing so anyway.

As soon as he pressed down on her tongue, she started doing her best to please him. Hoping it would earn her in good favour from the get go. She was never keen on sucking cock, her boyfriend never forced her to do it because he knew it wasn’t something she liked doing. But she did on occasion for him. But now, she was sucking cock like her life depended on it… Because it probably did.

‘Ohhh, yes, pet. You’re a good little cock sucker.’ Loki purred, gripping her hair as he started thrusting into her mouth, down her throat.

She sucked as best she could, but started gagging when he pushed further down her throat. He didn’t let up though, forcing her to breathe through it and carry on. No matter how difficult it was for her.

Ivy panicked when he became rougher, before spilling straight down her throat. She tried to spit it out, but he kept his cock lodged down her throat, not allowing her to do so.

When he pulled out of her mouth with a pop, she only just managed to refrain from puking. She breathed in heavily, glad to finally have him out of her mouth.

‘Mmm, that was delightful.’ He hummed, brushing his thumb along her lips.

‘Get on the bed on your hands and knees.’

While Ivy clambered quickly onto the bed, Loki went to retrieve the whip. He wanted to see how she would react to more pain. When he returned to her, he flicked the whip through the air and saw her jump at the cracking sound it made.

He smirked when her shaking returned.

‘Keep still and count the whippings, and don’t forget to thank me for each one. If you falter, I will start again. You are to get ten. But feel free to scream, I want to see what kind of noises I can get out of you.’ He growled.

Ivy felt sheer terror throughout her. But she did her best to keep it together. She knew Loki would be ruthless, there was no chance he would go easy on her.

And she was right.

The first whip to her backside had her howling in pain. It felt like the whip had split her skin open already, it burnt like hell.

But she quickly remembered herself. ‘ONE! THANK YOU, SIR!’ She cried out, unable to say it normally as the pain continued to sear through her.

Loki was super impressed that she even remembered to call him Sir. That was where they usually failed.

‘Good girl.’ He hummed, then gave her the second lashing straight away.

She continued pleasing him, able to count and thank him for them all. By the time he was finished with her, her ass was covered in bleeding welts, she felt like she was going to pass out from the pain. Her arms were shaking so badly she could barely keep herself upright and she couldn’t see through her tears.

Loki had the whip vanish and he walked around the bed to see her face. He gripped her chin and leaned down, kissing her forehead. ‘You’re very well behaved, pet. I think I am going to enjoy having you around.’ He grinned.

He allowed her to lay down, she gratefully fell down on the bed, exhausted and in agony. But she didn’t get to just lie there and enjoy it, Loki moved onto the bed and grabbed her legs, hauling her across towards him.

She whimpered when he pushed her legs apart and moved between them. She knew what was to come now, but she just had to hold on as long as she could and get through it.

Loki gripped her hips and lifted her back end up more, getting her onto her knees. But he allowed her to keep her face buried down.

He brushed his cock against her cunt, while admiring his tattoo on her lower back. She whimpered as he then forced himself into her without any prepping or warning. He could feel her walls spasming around him, quickly trying to accommodate him.

His grip on her hips was crushing, she felt like he was hurting her bones. But she tried to bare it, without too much noise.

Loki was almost fully sheathed inside of her, before he slowly pulled back out until just the tip remained, then he slammed back into her. Making her yelp as it felt like the air was forced out of her.

Loki chuckled wickedly as he started rutting into her roughly, the head of his cock hitting against her cervix every time. Her body was tight around him, constantly trying to push him out. Struggling to get accustomed to him.

‘Such a nice fuck you are, my little pet.’ He growled, not slowing down his pace at all.

She raised her head up, quietly pleading him to go slower. ‘Pl… please, Sir… I… Can’t take it.’

To her surprise and relief, he did slow right down, till he was barely moving within her. ‘Ooooh, my poor pet. Are you sore?’ He cooed as he slowly slid his right hand up her spine to the back of her neck, where he wrapped his fingers around her easily. That terrified her, realising how large his hands were in comparison to her.

‘I am… Please, Sir.’ She cried, attempting to sit up a bit more.

But a sneer crossed Loki’s features. He shoved her down to the bed again, pinning her there with his hand at her neck as he started ramming into her once more. Rougher than before, if that was possible.

Her cries echoed around the room, she tried to enjoy it, but her body just couldn’t catch up. Couldn’t catch a break.

That was, until he slid his left hand underneath her and down between her thighs. He sought out her clit to play with.

Now her cries and whining of pain started to mix with pleasure. Loki could feel the slight change within her, her walls starting to flutter around him instead along with getting wetter.

Loki leaned down over her back, his metal and leather armour pressing into her bare skin while he continued moving his hips against her. She felt his breath against her ear. ‘You will cum for me, pet. Whether you want to or not.’ He growled sinfully.

She had no option in the matter, just like he said. The way his fingers were stroking her clit made sure of that, and even though his cock was like a battering ram inside her, her body was still reacting well to the full feeling.

‘That’s it… Cum for me!’

Ivy did exactly that. She came hard on his cock, almost squeezing the life out of him as she came. He continued thrusting into her a bit longer, riding through her orgasm, until he then came too. Spilling deep inside of her, the sounds of her whimpering as he filled her up was music to his ears.

‘Good girl, Ivy. Such a good girl.’ He purred as he pulled his cock out of her, their mixed juices came pouring out and down her thighs.

Loki scooped some of it from her and then put his fingers to her mouth. ‘Suck.’

She opened her mouth, allowing him to force his fingers into her. She started sucking with all she could, even though she was exhausted and just wanted to pass out. Unable to stop crying.

Loki started petting her head. ‘Shhh, shhh. You’re my good girl now, continue to please me like this and you’ll have nothing to fret about. In-fact, I think you may even be my new favourite toy.’

Ivy just knew that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

-

Loki left his room and his other ten girls stopped what they were doing, turning to face him.

‘Bed time.’ He said firmly. ‘My new pet will be sharing my bed tonight.’

One of the other girls looked appalled. She was supposed to be sharing his bed tonight, and she blurted that out loud, earning a hard glare from Loki.

The girls were to just sleep in his quarters, no beds. They had to make do with three sofas and the rug by the fireplace. So they usually took turns sleeping on the sofas. But Loki always had one girl, or sometimes more, share his bed at night. They were always relieved in a sense when they got to share, because it meant a comfy night’s sleep. Even if they did sometimes get too much attention from Loki in the process, it was usually worth it.

Loki took large and menacing steps towards the girl who complained out loud. He grabbed her by the neck and held her up in the air, her legs kicked about in fear as she grabbed his forearm, she spluttered as she couldn’t breathe.

‘You dare to question my command.’ He snarled, nose scrunching up.

The girl’s eyes widened in terror as he went over to the balcony, the doors flew open and he stepped outside. Without even hesitating, he tossed her straight off the balcony… Eight floors up.

His other girls gasped and cried when they saw her go over. But they all scurried away quickly to the sofas, a few on the floor. None saying anything or even daring to look at Loki directly.

Loki stormed back inside and the doors slammed shut behind him. He glared over at the other girls. ‘You all should be glad, that has saved me having to pick one of you to dispose of now I have a new girl.’

He then stormed off into his room, back to his new favourite toy.

[salvejoon]

Life is Beautifully Ugly (At Times) - pjm | 04

⇒ Warnings for this chapter: Cursing and Jimin almost getting his ass kicked.

⇒ A/N: oaisfjasio this chapter is chaotic, I’m sorry

Your phone rang and when you looked at the clock, you groaned but picked it up, “Why the fuck are you calling at ass o’clock?” 

A tiny hand smacked your shoulder, “No bad words, Imo.” 

“Ah shit, sorry Hyejin.” 

The girl shook her head and rolled over to her side as you got out of bed, “Good morning to you too.” Jimin said. 

“Fuck off.” You whispered into the phone and exited the bedroom, “Seriously, it’s like 6.30 AM, Jimin.” 

“And?” 

“And it’s Saturday. You know… Weekend. A day off. Something that you are in desperate need of.” 

“Hm.” With a hum, he brushed you off, “Do you have plans this Monday?” 

You raised a brow, “No, why?”

“Good, then I won’t have to ask you to cancel them.” 

“Planning to ask me out?” You teased and you could almost hear how hard he rolled his eyes through the phone. 

“Not in a million years.”

“Hey, I’m a catch.” You protested. 

“Yes, a catch of STDs.” 

“No, that’s you.” 

Jimin sighed and cleared his throat, “I’ve just spoken to my father-”

“Ugh.”

“I’ve heard from Han and Charlotte’s lawyer and he requested a meeting. A meeting my father will attend. He wants to know if they have a testament.” 

“They do and they sure as hell didn’t include him in anything.” You huffed as you entered the kitchen, looking for a mug, “He’s going to be disappointed. It only concerns us and Hyejin.” 

“I don’t want to argue with you. Just be there at 10 AM and don’t be late. You know the address for our office building, yes?” 

“Of course I do, it’s that tall fugly building.” 

He sighed heavily before speaking, “Bye Y/N.”  

Monday rolled around and you got up early and got dressed. You opted to go for a simple pair of dark jeans and a white tee. Nothing special. You wanted to be as comfortable as possible while you were in the lion's den. You were already nervous as hell, not need to add to that concerning yourself with how you look.

Namjoon came over half an hour before you were about to head out and Hyejin immediately latched herself onto his leg, “Do you want to watch One Punch man with me, Boon?”

He smiled down at her and picked her up, “I wish I could but Imo and I have to go to a very important meeting soon but when we get back, I’ll watch it with you.” 

“You promise?” 

He picked her up and kissed her forehead, “I promise. If your Imo lets me, I’ll even sleepover tonight.” 

You chuckled as you walked over to them, fingers poking Hyejin’s ribs gently, causing her to giggle, “Boon can stay over if you promise to go to bed when I tell you to.” 

Some whining and a pout later, she was in your arms as you invited Mrs. Shin inside the apartment and kissed Hyejin goodbye, telling her to be nice to the older woman. 

The drive to the office building had your nervousness rising. Namjoon noticed instantly, of course, “Don’t be nervous, Y/N.” 

You swallowed, “But this is it, Joon. I have to sit in a room with lawyers and Jimin and his father and I have to be an adult and I have to think about Hyejin’s future not to forget I’m scared shitless if Han and Charlotte have included that wretched family in the testament.” 

“That’s why I’m here. I’m your lawyer and have Hyejin’s best interests in mind.” 

You turned your head and smiled at him, “I still need to know what I have to pay you.” 

He shook his head, “Absolutely nothing, Y/N.” 

“But-”

“Concentrate on driving, sprout and I’ll concentrate on the big decisions.” 

Namjoon leaned in and you felt his breath against your ear, “And please try to keep your temper in check.” 

You huffed, “I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Fine, I’ll let you do the talking.” 

He nodded satisfied and put his hand on the small of your back, leading you into the meeting room. All eyes fell upon the pair of you, several men dressed in suits looking at you enter the room. You noticed Namjoon inclining his head to some of the others, no doubt some of his acquaintances. You let him lead you to the table but you paused, “Jimin isn’t here.” 

“He’s probably a little late.”

You snorted, “And he told me not to be late.” 

Your best friend checked his watch, “It’s only 9.55 AM. Calm down.” 

You crossed your arms, “Fine.” 

Namjoon smiled at you before one of the other men tapped his shoulder and he excused himself for a moment. You stood by the chair, debating with yourself if you should sit down or if it would seem rude. Not wanting to risk anything, you kept standing. You could still feel some eyes on you and you cursed softly under your breath. It was making you anxious. You wanted to leave the room. 

A commotion made you turn your head towards the entrance to the room and you saw Jimin enter, his eyes landing on you as the first and he nodded towards you. You nodded back and watched as he greeted the other men in the room. Then his father entered the room and you felt shivers run down your back. That man had a commanding presence, you had to give him that.

Jimin’s attention was on his father the moment he grabbed his shoulder and you could see how they whispered to each other, his father bitching about you being there, no doubt. 

The man you guessed was a mediator of sorts greeted all the people in the room and asked them politely to please sit down. Namjoon was at your side in a flash, pulling out the chair for you before sitting down himself. You kept your hands in your lap as you listened to the guy explain the purpose of the meeting. 

“As Mr. and Mrs. Park’s lawyer, I believe I should go first.” 

“That’s their lawyer, Harris Wong.” Namjoon whispered to you and you nodded. Harris pulled out his briefcase, opened it and pulled out a small stack of papers. 

“I have their testament right here.” He said and put on his glasses as he began to read out loud. Some legal stuff that didn’t really concern you at first, it was only at the possessions section that your ears perked and listened. 

All of their savings were to be transferred to a bank account in Hyejin’s name, as well as the money from the apartment and cars after they’ve been sold. Other personal belongings with emotional value were to be given amongst family members if they wanted something. 

So far you were relieved that Hyejin at least had her adult life settled with money. She would have the account unlocked once she turned 18 and it was approved by her guardians. 

“Speaking of guardians, there’s the matter of their daughter, Hyejin Park. Han and Charlotte have written their wishes down to ensure that their daughter would continue to stay with family.”

You fisted your shirt in your lap as you listened, “They wished for Han’s brother, Park Jimin-” 

Your heart fell. Namjoon put his hand above one of yours in comfort. You had hoped that you would become the guardian of your niece but if it was what they wished then you’d have no say in it. 

“And Charlotte’s sister, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, to become the child’s guardians. Equal parental rights.” 

At this, Jimin’s father stood up from his chair and glared at Harris, “This woman is to become the guardian of my grandchild?” 

Harris took off his glasses, “It’s what they wanted and has taken legal action to make it happen.”

“She doesn’t even have citizenship!” 

“I’ll make sure she gets a permanent resident visa, Mr. Park.” Namjoon said, his voice stern and professional as he leveled the older man with a hard stare. 

“She doesn’t have a steady income! How will she afford schooling, tutoring-”

“Your son is also guardian to your granddaughter, Mr. Park, as thus it is also his responsibility.” Harris countered.

“I believe it would be in the child’s best interests if I should become her sole guardian. I can provide her with the best tutoring and-” 

“Absolutely fucking not!” You stood up with a slam on the table, “I will not let my niece become just another asset to earn some money on. Sure, you can probably provide her with the best of the best but what about love? Care? Will you come into her room at night when she’s crying for her parents and console her? When she gets older and asks about her mother, what will you say? ‘Oh, I didn’t bother to get to know your mother because I hated her.’”

“You will watch your tone.” Mr. Park warned but you didn’t care. He could try to use his intimidation shit on you as much as he wanted to. 

You were a little scared of him under normal circumstances but certainly not when it was your niece’s future that was at stake. 

“I will do no such thing. You don’t scare me, old man. You are really out of your damn mind if you think you could do a better job. I’ve been there every step of the way with Hyejin. I was there at her birth and every single birthday. I watched Han’s heart break every time Hyejin asked about her grandfather. I was there when he cried because you had called him a failure and a disgrace to the family simply because he fell in love with my sister. I saw the mental damage you gave him over the years. I’ll be damned if I let her go with you and be raised by a fucking nanny! The audacity you elitist fucks have-” 

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Namjoon said, pulling you down to your chair, “My client has nothing else to say.” And he kicked your shin under the table as you opened your mouth. 

Jimin sighed quietly. He didn’t know if he should be appalled by your behavior, his father’s idea of thinking he would be a better guardian or by the fact that you left the room in anger, Namjoon tailing after you, excusing the both of you. What an absolute circus.

His father turned to him as soon as the door closed, “Who does that woman think she is?” 

“Hyejin’s guardian, sir.” 

“There has to be some way to get her to relinquish the guardianship. The child would best be off in my care. Perhaps we should offer her money. That sort of woman wants money above all else.” His father continued and Jimin had the feeling that his day was about to get worse.

“I told you to keep your temper in check!” Namjoon, ever calm and calculated, a patient man, your constant rock the last decade, was currently yelling at you. 

He had never raised his voice towards you before. 

You must’ve really fucked up.

“J-Joon, I’m sorry but that old fucker just-”

“I don’t want to hear it. God-fucking-dammit!” He kicked the wheel of the car and you winced when he yelped in pain. 

“Please don’t hurt yourself.” You said but he shot you a glare so intense, you lowered your head like a child being scolded.

“You, no, we will be lucky if he doesn’t drag this to court to try and prove you unfit to be her guardian, Y/N. You do realize that he can hire the best of the best in the field without batting an eye.” 

“But you’re the best of the best, Joonie.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere right now, woman.” 

You huffed and crossed your arms, leaning against the car, “Fine! I’m sorry, okay?! Just please don’t be mad. I know I fucked up royally and-” 

“Royally would be an understatement.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where you two would be having a fight.” Came Jimin’s voice as he approached the two of you. You glared at him, stomping up to him and with a finger, poked his chest hard. 

“You were of absolutely no help in there, you ass! Why didn’t you say anything?” You chided, growing angrier at his passive face. 

“I didn’t want to get involved more than necessary in this mess. I don’t control my father.” He said cooly. 

“Well, you’re in deep seeing as we are now the guardians of Hyejin!” 

“Unless you say yes.” 

“Say yes to what?” 

“Say yes to money and give my father what he wants.” 

The silence stretched for more than a minute and you simply stared at him until you saw red and grabbed the front of his suit with one hand and formed a fist with your other hand, “YOU ASSHOLE!” 

Namjoon had to move quickly before your fist connected with Jimin’s jaw. He grabbed you tightly and moved you backward away from Jimin, who looked a little surprised at your sudden aggression. 

“Let me go right now!” You trashed against him, “I’m going to beat him into a bloody pulp!” 

“You’re out of your mind.” Jimin spat.

“The second I get free, I’ll make sure to show you just how much!”

“Calm down!” 

“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down, Namjoon! This motherfucker really thinks that he can bribe me with money to give up Hyejin to his sick fuck of a father!” 

“I don’t believe any of the sort, woman! I simply passed on what my father planned.” Jimin said and you stopped moving in Namjoon’s arms, “I know no amount of money will get you to give up Hyejin but my father thinks so.” 

You looked like you thought about it for a second but then, “Or it’s just so you can get out of it!” 

“I will respect my brother’s wish of taking care of Hyejin.” Jimin countered as he stepped closer to you, ignoring Namjoon’s warning gaze, “Don’t you dare insinuate otherwise.” 

“You were certainly quick to suggest otherwise and now I’m supposed to believe you meant something else? Fuck off!” 

“My father is in no way shape or form able to take care of a child. He doesn’t realize how big of a burden-”

“Oh! So now she’s a burden?!” You began thrashing again and Namjoon groaned loudly, “Let me go! I’ll rearrange your fucking face, Park Jimin!” 

“I think the pair of you will make excellent guardians for Hyejin.” Namjoon said quietly to himself, while still struggling to keep you caged in his arms, “What a fucking mess.”

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #13- Swerve Doesn’t Have Any Friends

Okay, let’s go ahead and get this out of the way.

It’s a FUCKING SPORTS BRA AND RUNNING SHORTS ALEX.

And don’t think I don’t see that friggin’ cleavage alien back there. You ain’t slick.

I’m going to make it a law that all comic book artists learn how to draw clothes that don’t vacuum-seal themselves to women’s bodies. Milne gets six months for this infraction alone, and Roche gets a year for the initial bra crime he committed back in Last Stand. Learn how women’s underwear works, you ninnies.

Our issue opens up with Swerve stretching his radio personality muscles.

Oh, Guido Guidi, whisk me away to flights of fancy!

Our artist for this issue is none other than Guido Guidi, ascended from fanwork to deliver us from evil with his near-superhuman ability to emulate other artists’ styles and just make things look really pretty. He was responsible for the mythos pages in the 2012 Annual, AKA the best part. He also filled in on some of the art for Last Stand of the Wreckers, not that I really noticed because he’s just that good.

Swerve lets Blurr know that while it might have looked like the Lost Light had exploded, thus killing everyone onboard back in issue #1, that isn’t actually what happened. I’m glad someone filled in the Cybertronian populace on that.

I was never great at math, but those speech bubbles might be phoning it in a bit.

Swerve says that he’s having a great time on the quest, despite all the hiccups, and we get an explanation for why this long-range communications system hasn’t been seen prior to this point. It’s been broken for a while- most likely due to the quantum jump that started the series off with a bang- but Blaster managed to get it running again. Good job, Blaster. With this little setup for our framing device out of the way, we get into the meat of the story.

Swerve is being nosey about things that weren’t any of his business, happening in a closed off room, when Drift drags him down the hall and hid him away for safety. Swerve doesn’t much appreciate being manhandled, but there’s a method to the madness here.

Drift’s nose has vacated the premises once again, so we’re just going to have to deal with that. And how shapely does one have to be to be known as “the guy with the legs”? I mean, Drift is RIGHT THERE.

Drift uses his own powerful legs to kick down the door to Cyclonus and Tailgate’s room. It turns out that the horrific screaming wasn’t the sound of a murder or sexual relations taking place, but rather that of Cyclonus singing in Old Cybertronian.

My god, he’s completely enamored with this unrepentant murder machine.

We are just all up in Cyclonus’ grill for this panel. Nothing but lips. Was this specified in the script? Because it feels like it might have been specified in the script.

Old Cybertronian, or the Primal Vernacular as some might call it, was last seen in general when Rodimus channeled the will of the trapped Titan all across Tailgate’s chest. It was last seen spoken when we met Vos, the terrible murder gremlin who turns into a gun and uses his face to cause puncture trauma.

Comic books are wild, y’all.

Now that we’ve established that no one’s being killed, Drift goes back to what he was doing earlier, with Swerve deciding to tag along because he’s horrifically lonely. He invites Drift to come room up with him, because I guess if you’re going to sell off your comatose roommate’s bed out from under him, you might as well go for the guy who’s third in command,  is probably one of the hottest guys on the ship, and slices people into chunky salsa if they try anything funny.

Drift politely declines, and awkwardly removes himself from the conversation when Swerve doesn’t take the hint, returning to his sword lesson with Rodimus.

Oh thank god, the obnoxiously pink room is back.

Ultra Magnus bursts into the room, appalled by the actions of his fellow crew members. Some of his concerns are well-placed. Others, well…

Is- is that another friggin’ retainer on those lower teeth? Why does this design choice keep showing up?

So Magnus has imprisoned roughly a third of the ship at this point, and Rodimus suggests he take a chill pill. Magnus doesn’t even know what a chill pill even is, so we’re forced to make use of our most dangerous weapon- the threat of a good time, courtesy of Swerve.

The fact that Ultra Magnus hasn’t reduced Swerve to an oil stain on the floor is genuinely astounding. The guy has zero respect for bureaucracy or proper business management. It has been MONTHS, you dinky little man, get your act together as a business owner.

Swerve takes the bribe, and soon everyone’s shipping off to Hedonia, where the drinks are plentiful and the women… well, most of the Lost Lighters don’t even know what a woman is, so that aspect doesn’t really come into play. Thanks, Furman.

Also, Rung’s back to normal. Don’t worry about it, not a big deal.

Swerve isn’t having much luck on his Roommate Quest, as Tailgate spurns his advances, stating that he’s good kicking it with Cyclonus, mainly because they’re both old as shit.

I see we haven’t quite hit the threshold on the “Cyclonus is allowed to have friends now” meter. Give it a few more issues, I’m sure we’ll get there.

Man, zero for two for Swerve on trying to get a hot roommate. Maybe third time’s a charm?

Rodimus pops into the back of the shuttle to remind everyone that their entire race is more or less despised by the entire galaxy, and to play it safe by using their holomatter avatars.

The revamp by Brainstorm and Rung is truly a blessing, because the avatars in IDW were awful to look at up to this point.

Y’all, that is HOT ROD. Jesus wept.

Getting back to Tailgate’s questionable taste in companionship, Tailgate asks if Swerve and Blurr connected right away. Swerve gives him an affirmative, then starts listing off the guy’s racing stats until Ultra Magnus plops down between the two of them, drawn in by the melodious sound of statistics.

Magnus is having a hard time relaxing, but he’s giving it his best, and I think that’s very commendable of him. It’s hard trying new things.

On the surface of Hedonia, it would appear the B-Movies are having a Pride event in the entertainment district.

Okay, moment of truth- show us those avatars!

Oh thank god, they aren’t totally hideous. Though, isn’t Rewind old as shit? I guess youth is a state of mind. Still, I can’t believe we missed out on silver fox Rewind.

Rung’s line is in response to folks at the time claiming that Rung was a self-insert character, which is interesting, because we’ve already seen what a self-insert looks like when it’s Roberts doing the inserting, and we’ve also seen his Mary Sues.

Rung, while an original character who had appeared in Roberts’ pre-professional works (a single line of text in Eugenesis, where he was a psychiatry play-on-words), he isn’t what I’d consider a Mary Sue. Mary Sues are usually stunningly beautiful, beloved by their peers, insanely talented in ways that no other character is, and typically have some sort of connection to another character that more or less forces them into the story despite not needing to exist.

Mary Sues don’t get their friggin’ heads exploded, or exist in a constantly-forgettable state. Sure, he’s the only therapist we’ve ever seen in the Transformers franchise, but there was kind of a massive need for that sort of character to be created, seeing as all of these sons of guns have PTSD and clinical depression. And, as we’ve seen in previous issues and will continue to see later on, he’s really not even that great at it.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t have certain traits befitting such a characterization, merely that they don’t add up to equal that sort of whole by issue #13. Transformers (2009)-era Drift is way closer to a true Mary Sue than Rung is.

Anyway, where the hell did Tailgate get to?

They really just let Frodo Baggins in this bar all babybjörned up, huh? Does Tailgate even know what a baby even is at this point? Does he just think he’s a very small person? How much human media has he consumed? We haven’t gotten into the reproductive process for the continuity yet, but fresh Cybertronians aren’t exactly a one-to-one to human infants. Damn it, Roberts, what the fuck am I supposed to make of Babygate?

Whirl’s off in the corner, disguised as a 12-year old girl who’s fucking STRAPPED. Magnus has disappeared, but Rewind locates him pretty easily as Rung makes a comment about Magnus needing to make an appointment with him.

Oh hey, Verity. Been a minute. Careful, ol’ six-eyes over there is leering at you.

The fellas come back to the bar as they truly are, and sit down for a round of drinks. Whirl gets Ultra Magnus a drink that sounds disturbingly like a Cybertronian equivalent to Milk Coke, and we get a little anatomy lesson. Transformers have something called a Fuel Intake Moderation chip, something that keeps them from getting drunk on pretty much the only thing they can consume. Swerve suggests Magnus turn his off so he can have a good time- which I don’t personally agree with, but this is Captain Stick-in-the-Mud we’re talking about here. Magnus gives it a shot.

And that’s a series wrap on Ultra Magnus!

No, the man’s just got no tolerance and has been knocked the hell out by his drink. Things begin devolving. Tailgate is crying. Skids has found out that Whirl didn’t give Magnus Milk Coke at all, but instead the equivalent of liquid cocaine. Swerve is convinced he’s going to prison. Rewind is filming the whole thing.

Nobody actually checks to see if Magnus is actually dead, until Rung gets around to it. Swerve, you’re a doctor by original trade, what the hell are you doing?

The boys sit Magnus at the table to wait out his nap. Hours later, nothing’s changed, except that they’ve started up the nemesis game, and Whirl’s decided he’s going to be rude about monoformers being monoformers. Rung gives a non-answer, because that’s just who he is as a person. Skids names Misfire as his worst enemy, only because he’s still missing a good chunk of memory and can’t remember if he had a worst enemy, but still wants to contribute to the conversation.

Rung, don’t be a dick, he did his best. You were right on top of Fort Max, it was a tricky shot.

Ultra Magnus finally starts waking up, and that’s the point where everyone decides to foot Swerve with the bill for the emotional labor he’s going to have to perform by explaining just what the friggity-frack happened.

Magnus starts laughing, then crying, then offloads his troubles onto Swerve. Magnus feels like he just doesn’t fit in on the Lost Light. He’s just trying to do his job and everyone makes fun of him, or disrespects his authority. He’s trying, he really is, but he’s just not built for post-war life. He’s actually tried to leave his position on the Lost Light, but they just keep pulling him back in.

Probably doesn’t help that Rodimus seems more interested in Drift’s opinion on matters than his own SIC half the time.

Oh no, he’s making digs at the things Swerve’s sensitive about. Where is Rung?

Magnus just wants to be understood, y’know? He’s a fully realized creation. He’s got interests. Like music! And the fact that Swerve is missing his Autobot badge!

This was the point where MTMTE was still bouncing back and forth on whether it wanted to commit to the crotch badge. It was a tumultuous time for everyone, very dark days.

WHERE THE FUCK IS RUNG

Magnus, having had enough of sharing his feelings, takes another sip of his cocaine and slips back into unconsciousness. Swerve admits to his limp body that people don’t actually like him, but rather only stick around because of what he can offer- namely, a good time.

The rest of the Swerve posse comes back, with Cyclones having joined the party. Rung shows off his new model ship, which gets Rewind started on his movie collection. He pulls up the opening ceremony for the Ark 1. Y’know, the Ark 1, that ship that Cyclonus was on that disappeared into the Dead Universe for six million years. The Ark 1 that Tailgate was supposed to be on.

Before we can get started however, someone throws the model at Rewind’s head.

That someone is none other than Cyclonus, who proceeds to fly into a rage, throwing tables and shoving the still-unconscious Ultra Magnus to the floor. My word, what a reaction! What could possibly be setting him off so much? Does he not like being reminded of his fated trip to the stars? Is this a manifestation of trauma from that event?

Who knows? No time for questions, Skids is too busy punching him in the face.

Tailgate intervenes, explaining that because Cyclonus and himself are so goddamn old, the engex Cyclonus consumed is wreaking havoc on his body. He tells the rest of them to go on while he tries to calm Cyclonus down. Interesting that Rewind doesn’t have any sort of input on this, given that he is also super fucking old, but there’s no time for questions! We’ve got to get Ultra Magnus back on the shuttle in the next 20 minutes, or else they’ll be stuck on Hedonia FOREVER.

They start throwing Magnus on the floor repeatedly, trying to get his t-cog to spin up. No dice, however.

It’s 4AM. Do you know where your Domey is? Because Rewind sure as hell doesn’t.

Okay, time for Plan B.

I’m guessing not, Rung. I’m guessing not.

Using Magnus as a trampoline does the trick, and the boys are rewarded with the sight of Magnus’ alt-mode… resting on its roof, upside down. They get him sorted, pile in the cab- Rewind is driving, which leads me to believe he at least has some experience handling a vehicle. Chromedome does turn into a car…

I don’t even know what that sort of activity implies for a Transformer. We won’t go any further down this line of thought.

The boys manage to get Ultra Magnus to the shuttle in time, and all’s well that ends well!

This is about the time that Blaster knocks on the glass at Swerve to wrap things up, seeing as he’s been at this for over nine hours now. There’s one last little aside before we’re done with our story, however, and it involves just what happened in the bar after everyone else left.

Cyclonus calmed down almost immediately after the rest of the guys left, paying for what he broke and inviting Tailgate to have a seat.

Well, I say invite, but it’s really more of an order.

If you’d already figured out at this point that this jumpy little marshmallow was lying about being the biggest badass who ever lived, a gold star for you! It turns out, dear Tailgate has been crafting a fabrication, spinning a yarn, telling a tall tale since Day One on the Lost Light. The story has been feeding us a steady diet of fish the whole time!

Red herring!

Red herring!

Red herring of Tailgate’s own design! Autopedia’s mods are a friggin’ joke.

Tailgate was supposed to be a the Ark 1 launch, but it was because he was on the cleanup crew. Boy’s a sluicer, and his arm SHOULD say "waste disposal”. Through a cunning use of his wits and cold reading, Tailgate faked his way through the dismantling of the bomb on Temptoria. A smart boy, he is, if not a bit self-centered.

Which brings us to why exactly Cyclonus freaked out in the bar: he wasn’t having an episode, but rather faking a reaction to prevent Tailgate’s lie from being exposed. He still thinks that Tailgate should come clean about this whole thing, before things get really messy, but it wouldn’t be an issue of MTMTE without some raw-ass emotions getting thrown about.

Cyclonus, who hasn’t allowed himself to feel anything other than simmering rage or national pride for over six million years, is beginning to feel something for Tailgate.

That feeling is sympathy, and maybe a little pity.

He offers to teach Tailgate a song to help him feel better, because that’s what he does when he has feelings.

And given that Cyclonus seems to sing often enough that Tailgate’s gotten used to the horrific sound, it might be that Cyclonus has feelings a hell of a lot more often than he lets on.

Roberts, how many times are you going to make Tailgate cry? How much pain are you going to subject him to before you’re satisfied?

The scene closes out on the two of them getting their karaoke on in the empty bar, in the god-awful language that is Old Cybertronian. I can only imagine that they get kicked out of the bar pretty quickly after this.

Getting back to the present, Swerve has finally, finally finished his story, closing out with an invitation for Blurr to come visit Swerve’s.

Blaster gets ready to shoot one hell of a voice message at Blurr, but there’s a problem; the number Swerve has isn’t long enough to be a personal hailing frequency.

Yeah, turns out that Tailgate isn’t the only liar on board the Lost Light.

Four million years ago, Swerve met Blurr at a publicity event, got way too friendly with a celebrity, pestered the guy until he gave him a fake number, and has convinced himself that he made a life-long friend to this very day.

Big oof.

Later, back at Swerve’s, Swerve is busy cleaning the glassware when Ultra Magnus comes in, sober and having just gotten out of surgery to fix his fuel tanks. Guess that second sip of Nucleon really wasn’t a good idea.

Swerve tries to tell a lie about what happened the night before, only to have the dawning horror that Magnus remembered the entire night, as he’s presented with a new badge. Swerve, bolstered by the fact that, while Magnus didn’t enjoy the previous evening, he appreciated having company, begins to ask Magnus if he’d want to room with him.

Wow, zero for three! That’s rough, buddy.

Kind of a bummer end to this whole issue, but it was still decently light, tone-wise, for MTMTE. A great deal of fun was had, in between all the mortifying reveals of our characters inner demons.

...Well, shit.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Do you think that, during sex if Levi did something odd or a bit out of his normal character and then saw Erwin a bit confused, would he be so embarrassed that he would, not only leave right away, but also try to avoid Erwin for a while? There’re probably a lot of fic like that out there. Man have I fell down a eruri hole during this isolation. Anyways, I hope you are safe and having more fun than I am. Keep of being amazing.

Apologies for the delay in replying Anon.  I hope you’re keeping safe and well and surviving these strange times.  Please accept this shameless cliched fluff to help you pass the time in isolation. 

Lostcauses Fic: In Other Words

“Please…” Erwin pleaded, head thrown back, fingers pressing bruises into Levi’s sweat slick thighs. “Please, Levi, harder.”  

Levi needed no encouragement. The sight of his Commander, cheeks flushed, disheveled hair scattered across his brow, begging for release, undid the last tattered shreds of his self-control.

“Come on baby,” he urged, the endearment slipping past his lips unnoticed and unbidden, as he snapped his hips forward, harder, faster.  “Come on, come for me.”

Erwin came with a long low moan, arching up off the bed, as Levi’s own orgasm tore through him, the sheer force of it obliterating everything but his overwhelming desire for the man beneath him.

They lay together in the aftermath, warm cum cooling between them, as Levi sprawled, barely conscious, across Erwin’s heaving chest.

“Fuck Erwin,” he slurred, struggling to catch his breath, “fucking love you.”

It was only when Erwin stilled beneath him that Levi realized what he’d said.  The full force of it crashing over him in a cold wave of terror.

“Levi …” Erwin started, his voice so thick with emotion that it made something twist painfully in Levi’s chest.

“I should go,” Levi said, pushing himself off the bed before Erwin could continue, and scrambling into his clothes.

Propped up on one elbow, Erwin watched him from the bed.

“You could stay,” he said carefully.

“You know I can’t do that,” Levi spat, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he tied his cravat with an irritated flick. “People will talk.”

“Let them,” Erwin shrugged. “I don’t care.”

But Levi was already gone, slamming the door behind him.  Erwin sighed, and collapsed back onto the bed, closing his eyes, as the stillness of the room congealed around him.

Sex for Levi had always been a perfunctory business.  A basic, if inconvenient, human need to be satisfied like any other.    It was rare for Levi to search out another warm body to satisfy the urge that ached in his bones, but on the infrequent occasions he did, a faceless fuck in an alleyway was enough to meet his needs.  It was better that way.  Quicker, simpler, no messy emotional attachments, no risk of affection, of feeling anything that could only lead to remorse and regret.  

But that was before joining the Survey Corps.  In spite, or perhaps because of, the precarity of their existence, the knowledge that their lives could be brutally snatched away at any moment, the Survey Corps’ surviving veterans formed deep bonds with their comrades.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that right?”  Levi groused at Mike one night.  The older man was smiling fondly as he watched Nanaba weaving their way towards them through of the crowded bar, carrying two tankards of beer in either hand. “You could be Titan shit tomorrow.”

“Titans don’t shit, you know that.” Hange butted in, waggling a finger at him.  Levi swatted them away, wrinkling his nose.

Mike just shrugged, smiling as Nanaba placed the drinks on the table in front of them. “All the more reason, to take it where you find it.”

And take it they did. All except the Commander, who was widely regarded as being above such things.  A cold bastard, with a heart of stone.  Only Levi knew differently.  

He couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through him the first time he felt the Commander’s gaze fall on him.  The heat and weight of it startled him and set his blood rushing.  An entirely unfamiliar feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

He’d responded out of curiosity, to see if he could recapture that unexpected feeling, to find out if the Commander really was a man of flesh and blood under that implacable façade.  He was.  And oh what a man.  Their first encounter devastated Levi, leaving him stunned and shaken, desperate for more.

To his surprise, Erwin turned out to be a fond and affectionate lover, a million miles from the austere, intimidating persona he presented to the world.   Attentive to Levi’s every mood, he learned to pick him apart at the seams with such ruthless dexterity that it shook Levi to the core.  But what shocked Levi even more was that Erwin gave himself with equal generosity, laying himself bare with appalling humility and unimaginable tenderness.

What started as a casual arrangement soon became a regular one, and though Levi could feel himself slipping, he was powerless to resist.  An inexorable force was drawing them irresistibly together and Levi found, that for all his strength, he could no more stop it than he could stop the sun from rising and setting.  Truth be told, Levi did not want to stop it.  Erwin was the breath in his lungs, the strength in his sinews, the force that drove him forwards, the steadfast vision he followed. But more than that, Erwin was the embrace that circled him and held his broken pieces together, the heat that swelled in his chest filling the cold empty places inside him, the name he cried out breathless and gasping.  Erwin, his commander, his liege, his lover.

Not that Levi would admit it, he shied away from the word, stubbornly refusing to face it, as if ignoring it would deny its truth.  But now there it was, the appalling truth of it laid bare before them.  Unwilling to face the consequences of this revelation, and unable to run, Levi went out of his way to avoid Erwin in the days and weeks that followed.   He found endless excuses to skip meetings and briefings with the squad leaders in Erwin’s office, visited the officers’ mess only between meal times, earning the opprobrium of the cooks, and spent endless hours on the training grounds drilling the recruits until they dropped.  He even sought sanctuary in Hange’s basement workrooms until they lost patience and turfed him out.  

“You again?” Hange snapped when he turned up for the fourth afternoon in a row.  “What the fuck is going on Levi?  Whatever you and Erwin have fallen out about I wish you’d make it up, because I’m busy here and you’re getting under my feet.”

“What the fuck?” Levi started, but Hange was already shoving him unceremoniously out the door.

The stable block was his last refuge.  Barring a familiar nod, the stable hands paid him little attention and any soldiers who happened to be present generally minded their own business and left Levi to his.  Soothed by the soft stamp and whinny of the horses, and lulled by the familiar task of grooming his black mare, Levi was almost able to forget the hurt that lingered in Erwin’s eyes, to convince himself that the fateful slip of the tongue had simply never happened.

But it had.  Nothing could take it back, and the longer Levi avoided Erwin, the more he was consumed by regret, shame, anger, and remorse.

“Levi.”

Levi looked up from where he was cleaning the mare’s fore hooves; absorbed in his task, he had barely noticed the stable hands closing up the stalls for the night, the soldiers returning to the barracks. The sun was starting to set, bathing the interior of the stable block in a soft rosy glow, empty now but for himself and the Commander.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

Erwin smiled ruefully and shook his head.

“You know I could reprimand you for speaking to your commanding officer like that?”

“So? Why don’t you?”

“Levi…” Erwin took a step forward, and Levi tried not to notice that way the soft light gilded his hair. “You must know that’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here then?” Levi crossed his arms over his chest and stared defiantly at the Commander. The mare stamped and tossed her head, sensing his sudden change of mood. Erwin reached out a hand to calm her and she nuzzled into his palm.

“There’s no need for you to go to such lengths to avoid me Levi.  You don’t need to keep running.”

“I’m not,” Levi started, “I haven’t…”

“I know.”  Erwin said simply.  “What you said…I’ve known for some time.  I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a gift, and I don’t know how I can ever repay you, but I promise that I…”

Suddenly Erwin stopped and blinked, peering at Levi in the low light.

“Oh,” he said softly.  “You didn’t know? Until then, you didn’t know.”

The denial died on the tip of Levi’s tongue and he frowned and looked away.

“Levi,”  Erwin stepped towards him.  “It’s alright you know.”

“What’s all right?”  Levi asked.  He had a desperate urge to run but Erwin was close enough for him to smell his faint scent of ink and cologne and he yearned to close the gap between them, to lean his head against his chest, to loose himself in that familiar warmth.

“It’s alright to love.”

“You could be dead tomorrow,” Levi muttered, “or worse.” He still couldn’t bring himself to look Erwin in the face, afraid of what he might see there.

“I know, and so could you. That’s all the more reason to make the most of it don’t you think?”

It sounded so obvious, so easy.

“You sound like Mike.” Levi replied.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, he said something similar.”

“Well you know,” Erwin continued, “sometimes Mike’s worth listening to.  He hasn’t survived this long without learning a thing or two.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was low, quiet.  “It’s not the word that makes it true Levi, it’s everything else.  And besides, there are other words.”

“What words?” Levi finally looked up to meet Erwin’s gaze, brimming with such hope, such desire, such belief, that it almost floored him.

“Captain.” Erwin reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair off Levi’s brow.

“Comrade.” A callused thumb swept lightly over the arch of his cheekbone.

“Right hand man.”  Warm lips set a kiss on his forehead.

“That’s three words,” Levi murmured.

“Sorry.” The kisses moved to his cheek.

“Trusted companion.” Levi closed his eyes, leaning in to the kiss.

“Humanity’s Strongest.”    

“Fuck off.”  Levi snorted pushing Erwin away, but strong hands caught him, circling his waist, drawing him into the embrace.

“Wait there’s one more.”

“What’s that?”  Levi tried his hardest to affect a skeptical scowl, but it was spoiled by the smile that was pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Friend.”  Erwin breathed against his lips.

“Friend.” Levi agreed as he melted into the kiss. 

~~

(PS. You may also enjoy @ladymacbethsspot‘s beautiful fic on a smilier theme.)

[quixotic-writer]

Midnight Mischief

Requested by: @birdgirl1772

Summary: Of course things were awry on this tour and they were left to relocate motels but could only get two rooms since the hotel was fully booked. Sal and Q share a room and a series of events lead some emotions to bloom.

———————————————————

The boys drug their luggage back to the tour bus completely appalled at the state of their initial motel and decided that wouldn’t be the safest location for them to be spending the night. Joe was busy on the phone back on the bus attempting to call other locations in hopes of some open vacancy for the four jokers.

“I could NOT believe what I saw in my room, it was disgusting I still feel my skin crawling.” Sal exclaims as he thinks about the terror he just witnessed in his room and shivers. Mysterious stains everywhere, pretty sure there were bedbugs crawling about the mattress, the bathroom looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Needless to say he was the first person to back out of staying at the sketchy stop, it was a germaphobe’s nightmare.

“I can almost guarantee that there’s been special ‘services’ performed in the room I was in. It reeked of shame and prostitution.” Q chuckled as they finally reached the bus and threw all their things back on board.

“Mine had what i’m pretty sure was a used needle on the dresser! That was fun!” Murr chimes in with his own horror story worthy motel room. They walked on to see Joe pacing in circles, deeply invested in his phone conversation. They watch in awe as the typically goofy character goes serious business mode over the phone. Soon though, the conversation ends and his demeanor quickly shifts back to his normal humorous aura.

“Okay boys, got good news and got some bad news. Good news is I found a half decent non-crime-scene looking motel we can stay at.” He beams with joy and pride.

“And the bad news?” Murr mumbles out.

“Well we only got two rooms, don’t know how but they’re packed. But i’d rather stay in two good rooms than have four health code violation rooms.” The boys all look to each other and they shrug their shoulders. Joe made an amazing point, some sacrifices are willing to be made for their safety and comfort. “I’ll be talking to the tour manager later about this incident. We’ve had some ‘experiences’ in sketchy places but I think we all can agree this one takes the cake.” They erupt into laughter and reminisce on some of their previous run ins with run down battered motels and hotels. As they continued their journey on the road, they all gathered on the sofa of the bus to discuss sleeping arrangements.

“Okay, since i’ve lived with Joe before i’ll just bunk with him for tonight.” Murr says. Sal quickly agreed with the idea knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to stand Murr in a cramped room for longer than an hour, let alone a whole entire night. He wouldn’t have been surprised either if Q was on the same track as he was.

“Cool that means Q and I will be sharing a room tonight then. That alright with you, Q?” All heads turn to the man in question and Q nodded along. In his mind, however, he was trailing off now knowing that he’ll be sharing a room with Sal. He always played up the “Vulquinn” shenanigans just to get reactions out of fans and out of Sal, but the joke slowly became a little too real for him to handle. He would never admit it but he started to have some feelings for Sal. The once playful banter and flirting they kept doing was usually for show around others, but they soon found themselves doing it in their normal day to day lives with and without an audience. The way Sal looked at him made it feel like his heart stopped for a moment, any time Sal grabbed him while laughing so hard made his whole face would go red, and the playful flirting drove him to insanity because he wasn’t sure if it was real or not anymore.

The rest of the short ride was filled with chatter about the upcoming shows and what material they could bring on. Once they had arrived to their new destination, it felt like déjà vu as they unloaded all their stuff and retreated to their designated rooms.

Sal and Q walk to their room and open up the door to see a decent looking single room living area with a bathroom connected. The only issue: there’s only a single king size bed and no sofa, the only chair in there was a fold up chair in the corner of the room.

“Well looks like we’re just gonna have to share a bed tonight.” Sal says matter of factly, not at all bothered by the predicament. Q, on the other hand, felt his heart race at the thought but it evolved from excitement to panic fairly quick.

“I can sleep on the floor Sal it’s fine.” Q panics trying to find any alternative way out of the situation.

“Q that is going to seriously mess up your back. We need you in one functioning piece this tour. Also, germs, Q. The floor is so filthy. It’s cleaner than the last place, but still not clean.” Sal sets his suitcase off to the side and heads into the bathroom to scope out the joint. Q places his things away and just accepts his fate for the night mentally.

“I’m gonna get ready to head out for dinner then.” Q says then goes to freshen himself up a bit, splash some water on his face and change out to better looking clothes. He wants to focus on dinner but his mind can’t seem to wrap around the fact that all he ever wanted was coming true in the worst way possible. Sal cleans himself up too following a similar ritual as Q.

They both leave the room and meet up with Joe and Murr to go and find something to eat. Collectively they all decide on Denny’s as the safest place to eat around the area being that it was the most familiar, affordable, and also the closest since they didn’t want to stray to far from the place they were staying. They sat in a round booth, Q being squeezed between Joe and Sal with Murr sitting on the other side of Joe. As their meal progressed, Q couldn’t help but take occasional sneaking glances at Sal as he got lost in the conversation during their meal. He couldn’t help but also notice Sal doing the same, or he thought that’s what he saw. Maybe his mind could just be playing tricks on him to give him some sense of false hope.

Once the meal was over they all had grown tired and decided to call it a night and walk back to the motel and get some much needed rest to fuel up for the long day they had coming tomorrow. They said their “good nights” and that left Sal and Q to trail off to their room to wind down for the night. Q throws himself onto the bed and Sal groans.

“Q, off the bed, you haven’t even showered yet. I don’t want your grease in the bed i’m also sleeping in.” Q sits back up on the bed so he doesn’t have to hear Sal be the hygiene commander anymore. He plops himself on the shitty fold up chair in the corner of the room that creaks as he put his weight on it. When he looks up he sees Sal remove his shirt and disappear into the bathroom where the door shut and locked. Q felt heat rise in his cheeks and his heart race, it was only a split moment but it was enough to burn an image into his memory. His hands grip at the sides of the chair seat as though he was bracing himself for something.

“Stop it Quinn, you shouldn’t be thinking about your best friend like that.” He quietly curses to himself. He rubs his face and anytime his eyes shut all he can see is Sal. Everything has been driving him crazy but today just seems to be the icing on the cake. He just sat there and stewed in his whirlwind of emotions.

The bathroom door quickly opened back up and a wall of steam falls into the room. Sal emerges from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist and now Q felt like his head exploded.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Sal casually strolls over to his suitcase to grab what he needed without batting an eye. Q quickly hides in the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He stands there for a moment frozen. Why is the universe testing him today?

“This tour is going to be the death of me.” He says to himself as he strips all his articles of clothing away and steps into the shower. As he stood under the hot running water and cleaned off his body, his mind began to play scenarios in his head. Sal walking towards him with nothing but a towel on, hazel eyes filled with a seductive energy, his hands all over Q’s body, lips connected, the towel falling. “Fuck.” Q quietly murmurs as his hand slides down and wraps around his now hard cock.

More filthy ideas play in Q’s head, his eyes closed fully envisioning all he’s ever lustfully desired. Their bodies intertwined, hot breath on his skin, love bites littered all over their bodies, the aching relief of climax. He pumps harder and faster as he leaned against the shower wall biting down on his knuckle so hard it nearly breaks the skin to prevent any sinful noises from slipping out and echoing past the paper thin walls. the harmony of their bodies moving rhythmically together, Q hovering over a needy whining Sal, thin layer of glistening sweat that made him glow underneath him, mouth agape with dirty obscenities falling out.

It all had become enough for Q to unravel and accidentally allow a loud and low groan of his crush’s name to escape that he couldn’t quite catch before it was released. He came down from his high and covered his mouth realizing how loud it actually was and what exactly he let slip, he stood silent for a moment to see if the man on the other side of the wall would react at all. The running water was the only sound that was consistent, pure silence besides that. Q sighed in hopes that he had gotten away with it, but worry and nerves still settled in the lower parts of his stomach because maybe Sal knew but didn’t say anything.

He finished bathing and decided to shake the feeling away and try to convince himself that everything was fine. He steps out of the shower and sees the room is dark, he goes to his suitcase and peeks over at Sal. There he was in bed curled up quietly in peaceful rest. This calmed Q now knowing now that Sal probably hadn’t heard his slip up. He dressed himself in his pajamas and climbed into the sheets on the empty side of the mattress.

As he sat there with heavy eyes, he couldn’t help but stare for a little bit at the man that snoozed away next to him. He looked so calm for once rather than being on edge. Finally the weight of his eyes got to him and he fell fast asleep.

In the middle of the night, however, he felt his sleepy state grow lighter until he was half awake but refused to open his eyes. He felt a warmth pressed up against his side and it felt as though it was moving. He finally managed to pry open his eyes and look to his side where he was met face to face with Sal. It slightly startled him to a more awake state as that wasn’t what he was expecting to wake up to. Sal was still deeply asleep, snoring lightly as he breathed. As he looked down to see what the movement was, he almost had to do a double take.

There was Sal grinding up against Q’s thigh like a dog in heat. Q went very stiff unsure of what to do in a predicament like this.

“Do I move him? Do I move? Do I wake him up? Do I keep this secret? What is going on?” Was playing in his mind along with a thousand other questions. His thoughts were zooming at a million miles a minute trying to process the situation and take proper action. Although he was lost in his head, there was something that quickly brought him back to reality.

“Mmm~” A low hum came from Sal’s vocal chords and Q felt the blood begin to rush to places he didn’t want it to. Things were getting messier and messier by the second and Q still had no clue what to do and felt like a deer in the headlights. “Fuck... Brian...” Words slipped out of Sal and it made Q’s eyes go wide. Now he knew he would not be able to go back to sleep. Was he dreaming about him? Q couldn’t ignore it for much longer and decided it’d be best to wake him up, he couldn’t bare much more of this.

He shook Sal on his shoulder lightly until his snoring and moaning stopped and his eyes fluttered open. Sal didn’t say anything but groaned at the fact that he was awoken in the middle of what obviously appeared to be a pleasurable dream. Sal looked down to see the position he was in and his whole face went pale as he pieced together what was going on.

“I’m so sorry Q.” Sal said sheepishly, he stumbled over his words and was absolutely mortified and wanted to crawl into a cave and never return to civilization. “Did I... say anything?” Q felt his face go red as he recollected all the things Sal moaned out in his heated moment.

“You might have mumbled a few things.” He said trying to hide the fact that he knew Sal was having a wet dream, even worse a wet dream about him. Sal looked up to the older man and smirked.

“So you could take a wild guess as to what I was dreaming about then. I know i’m not the only one that’s been a little needy on this tour.” Sal eyes Q up and down and Q mentally flatlined in that moment. “I heard you in the shower, you’re not as sneaky as you think Quinn. Sneaking glances at me in the restaurant, playing coy with all this flirting, and now jerking off to me in the shower? You play a dirty game.” Sal knew. That son of a bitch knew. But more importantly, he felt the same way and this was Q’s green light to stop fantasizing and start living the reality he always wanted.

“You say I play coy when you’re just as bad. Listening to me in the Shower, Sally boy, that’s pretty dirty if you ask me. And I had to find out that you have the hots for me with you grinding up against my leg like a horny teenager? Who’s the one playing dirty here?” Q gets up and hovers over Sal whose face filled with shock and the realization that he teased Q a little too much and now he’s going to pay the price for it. “Do you want me to continue.” Q feels fired up and watches as Sal swallows hard beneath him. Sal quickly grabs the collar of Q’s shirt and reels him in for their lips to crash together, lips working hard at the other’s with desperation. That was all Q needed as he ground his hips against Sal, feeling his aching hard member through the layers of their pants and boxers.

Q’s lips escape Sal’s and go on to kiss at the sensitive skin of his neck which got a long drawn out moan out of Sal. Sal’s hand reaches down and snakes its way into Q’s pajama pants and grabs hold of his hard on.

“Oh shit.” Q breathes out at the sensation of Sal’s hand and he quickly grows into a groaning mess as Sal begins to pleasure the man on top of him. Q thrusts his hips, physically begging to feel more.

“Someone’s excited.” Sal says as he watches Q fall apart before him, delicious music to his ears. Sal pushes Q off of him and lays him on his back, he sneaks down underneath the covers and devilishly smirks knowing what he’s about to do. Q feels the warm body move under the covers and on top of him, his pants slide down along with his boxers, a hand hold his cock, and then suddenly a wet hot warmth around his it.

The sensation made Q’s toes curl and he desperately gasps for air. He props himself up on his elbows and moves the covers up to reveal Sal taking sucking Q off. Sal notices and smiles a bit while he continues to bob his head, taking the tip of his tongue and swirl it around the head. Q’s head flung back and his hand shot to Sal’s head, grasping at the hair on top of his head feeling as it moved up and down. Nothing comprehensible came out of Q’s mouth, just a strew of noises that only made Sal more excited as he worked his mouth around Q to keep the noises coming. Sal ground his hips against the mattress to get his own sense of pleasure and he hummed at the sensation, the humming sent vibrations through Q which caused his release to creep in faster.

“Fuck, Sal, i’m gonna cum. I’m so close. You’re so good at this, shit.” He whined out. Sal removed himself and looked into Q’s eyes as he pumped his dick hard and fast in his fist.

“Do it, cum for me Brian.” He said in a low seductive tone. Soon enough, hot ropes of cum came shooting out of Q with the same groan of Sal’s name he had released in the shower earlier, only this time he wasn’t afraid to allow all his sinful noises to echo through the room.

Brian huffed, seeing stars as he descended from his high and looked at Sal who was still humping into the mattress. Q smirked and pulled Sal up so his back rested on his chest and kissed along his neck and shoulders. He reached his arm around to grab hold of Sal’s hard on and started giving him the sexual attention he deserved.

“There’s no telling you how long i’ve waited to see you become putty in my hands like this.” Sal’s hands gripped around Q’s forearms as he watched breathlessly as the older joker jerked him off. The sensation of Q’s hot breath on his shoulder, wet kisses along his silhouette, broad hands and thick fingers around his dick, and the pump of Q’s heart against his back sent him over the edge into a pool of pleasure. He quickly met the same fate as Q as his back arched at the sensation.

Q assisted in the clean up, grabbing wet cloths from the bathroom to wipe the two of them down. They clothed themselves again and snuggled up in bed and a wave of exhaustion swallowed them whole as their bodies sunk into the comfort of the thick sheets and soft mattress.

“So when we’re you gonna tell me that you like me like that?” Sal jokes as he curled up against Q’s chest.

“I don’t know, I thought the whole flirting thing was just a long stretched out joke.”

“We both know it wasn’t really a joke anymore.” Q chuckled knowing they both had crossed the barrier between playful and serious and they both were a little too oblivious to realize it.

“You’re right, but here we are. I mean, that is if you wanna be a thing?” Q stops himself from solidifying anything too fast. He looks to Sal and he’s staring back but with a shy smile.

“I would have liked if you took me to dinner first.” He giggles and Q can’t help but smile. “But i’d like if we were a thing in all seriousness.”

“What are we gonna tell the guys?” Q asks genuinely curious now that everything that happened had fully sunk in.

“They can figure it out themselves. Who knows, maybe they’ll just think this is part of the gimmick, it’ll make it even funnier.” The thought of that made Q laugh even harder, the rumble of his chuckle made Sal shake a little. “Okay now enough with the pillow talk, we seriously need sleep and i’m on the verge of passing out.”

“Okay, okay. Goodnight Sal.” Q brings the other in close and gently kisses the top of his head, Sal nuzzles his head into. his chest and takes in the scent of Q’s musk. He felt comfortable and content.

“Goodnight, Bri.” They both closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep knowing now they no longer had to dream of the other or keep their feelings locked away. And it was all thanks to some midnight mischief.

———————————————————

Next door to them, however. Joe and Murr sat there in bed grateful that the moaning and groaning had finally stopped and they could finally get some shut eye.

“Who in the hell has surprise sex at this hour? I swear when I see them i’m going to kill them.” Murr grumbled as he pouted trying to find a new comfortable position to finally go to sleep.

“Or we could get back at them.” Joe jokes over to Murr who clearly was not having it at all and just wanted rest.

“Not a chance Gatto.” Those were his final words before he finally decided he had enough for the night and was determined to go back to sleep. Joe just shrugged his shoulders and curled back up in bed.

“Eh, it was worth a shot.”

[intelligentdumbass]

No I Cannot Get a Break(Part2)

(The first part’s over here)

“Athena? Have you seen Apollo?”

The grey-eyed goddess raised an eyebrow.

“Wasn’t he with you?”                                                                              

“Yes, but that was an hour ago.” Calliope frowned. “Hermes ran off to look for him but he hasn’t come back yet-”

Just then, two immortals came running out of the trees; it was the two gods that the muse was looking for. She immediately rushed towards them and inquired as to what had happened; Athena was about to do the same when her father’s voice thundered across the garden.

“AH-” “What’s this??” On his hand, he held out a fruit made out of pure gold. It had stuck him right on the face while he was chatting with his siblings, just like the messenger before him.

“Father.” Apollo suddenly spoke up and stared; one of his eyes twitching. “Father please, for the love of Troy, throw that into Tartarus!”

Before Zeus could respond, the apple was already gone; snatched out of his hands by the god of love. His wings instantly threw him up into air as he curiously stared at the fruit of gold.

“Pft, what’s wrong sunshine? Why so stressed?” Eros grinned mockingly at the sun deity. “Tis’ just a yellow apple with a few words craved onto it.” He cleared his throat in preparation to read the inscription. “To the fairest goddess of them all!”

Athena could’ve sworn Apollo’s fingers were twitching like he wanted to break Eros’ neck. Calliope and Hermes seemed to be holding him back; trying to calm him down. She gazed back at her father, who was just a tiny bit drunk, and he looked both confused and slightly concerned. This surprising turn of events had gotten a lot of the other immortals’ attention; even Artemis had took notice and quickly sped towards her twin.

Meanwhile Eros had flown over to his mother and exclaimed, “Well, well, well… I guess we all know who this trophy belongs to then now, don’t we?”

Aphrodite smiled, flattered by her son’s compliment. Just before she was handed the prize, however, a spear came hurling out of nowhere; piercing the fruit and pinning it against one of the trees.

“Wait.” Athena’s voice was commanding; briefly glancing back at her distraught younger brother. “This all feels a little off. Where did that apple even come from?”

Eros rolled his eyes. “Don’t know; don’t care Misses killjoy.” He flew over to retrieve the fruit; tossing the spear aside.

“I can assure you that I sense nothing of the like, no malicious auras or weird obscure magic, at least, not on the apple itself. If anything, this is probably just some secret admirer trying to praise their idol.” He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that proves he had a suspicion that wasn’t the case at all. “Besides, why do you care? Don’t tell me that this trophy was meant for you instead?”

“What-” “No!” The goddess seemed appalled that he would even consider that to be a possibility.

Then there was a loud sigh. It was from Hera.

“If that truly is why the apple exists,” She said. “Then for all you know it might’ve been intended for me instead. It landed very close to me after all; specifically onto my husband’s face. Maybe they just had bad aim?” It was hard to tell whether or not she was joking (‘She’s most likely joking’ Athena thought), but even Poseidon muttered against his breath that she did have a point.

Aphrodite just smiled. “Then why don’t we let the king of the gods decide?” She nodded at her son, who gave the fruit back to the lightning-bearer. “Tell us my lord, who do you think deserves to be awarded with the title of the fairest goddess of them all?”

Zeus blinked. “I…” “You want me to choose between you, Athena and Hera? With all of my possible biases I think I would be the least fitting judge for that matter.” He was still uneasy about his eldest son’s reaction; even quickly glancing back to make sure he wasn’t having a panic attack amidst all of this.

‘If only he hadn’t blocked my voice from his head.’ He thought. ‘Then I would know what’s bothering him so much.’

On the other hand, now that he was holding it again, Eros seemed to be right. It looked and felt like a normal and harmless shiny apple; a very pretty one at that.

“Let a mortal who is not part of any of your cults decide, and swear not to endanger their life over some trivial matter such as this.”

Aphrodite peered off the edge; her gaze landing on a young prince of Troy. “I think I already know who.”

Eros took the golden apple and flew down onto the earth. She motioned to the two goddesses to follow as well before morphing into a dove; flying just behind her son.

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

Paris stared at the three deities standing before him. At this rate, it looked like he was too shocked to be able to choose anyone at all. Athena internally sighed, wondering how she got herself involved into this mess.

“Okay well, how about this.” Aphrodite pondered for a moment. “If you choose me, I’ll give you the most beautiful mortal princess the world has ever laid their eyes on.”

Eros gave his mom a look, but she whispered to assure him that she was in fact not finding a way to get rid of Psyche.

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s just cheating-”

“Zeus never said anything against bribery~”

“In that case,” Hera said. “Choose me and you’ll get to rule the whole of Asia Minor.”

The war goddess thought that was an extremely irresponsible opportunity to give to someone as young as Paris, but then again maybe that was the point. She suddenly felt a little bad for the young prince.

“If you choose me, I can give you unlimited wisdom and glory in war.”

She could’ve sworn she heard Aphrodite curse. However, defying most of their expectations, Paris uttered the words, “I choose Aphrodite” and awarded the golden apple to the goddess of love.

‘Oh. Well, I tried to give him the least risky option.’

When she got back to the main event, it was almost like nothing had ever happened. Despite the incident that had killed the mood a few minutes ago, the party seemed to be back in full swing. She noticed one key difference though. Athena walked over to some of the muses; giving Clio a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Where’s Phoebus?"

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

Apparently Apollo disappeared when they weren’t looking, so Hermes, Artemis and Dionysus had gone off to go look for him in the depths of the garden.

“I tried to approach him, but he wouldn’t even look at me.” Zeus sighed. “And I am still not able to hear his thoughts.”

“Don’t worry, if I see him I’ll try to talk to him.”

“…please do.”

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

There were already three gods searching for him among the trees, so she figured she might as well try looking inside the palace itself. Besides, if he really wanted to be left alone, he might’ve tried hiding somewhere else, far from where Hermes last found him. Plus, she had a few spots in mind that she could try checking out.

The silence was eerie, but also oddly comforting. There was nothing but the soft hollow thumps of her steps as she walked through the empty halls. As luck would have it, it didn’t take long for her to finally spot the god sitting on the railing of a certain balcony, the one that even their father himself often stood on.  

The blonde was tense, but when he turned around and saw Athena, he started to relax.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your steps scared kind of scared me. I thought I was having another vision for a second there… I mean, you are the real Athena right?” He laughed, but his breath was more than a little shaky.

“Of course I am the real Pallas Athena. Who else would I be?”

She allowed a full minute to pass by to let him fully process her statement to be true before moving to stand right next to him.

“What’re you doing here?” Apollo asked.

“I wanted a break from the party.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” He paused. “You sure it’s not because you’re salty about the golden apple?”

Athena scoffed. “Don’t even think about trying to tease me. Why on earth would I care that much about some accursed fruit?”

“Aw, don't worry Athe. If I were him, I would've definitely chosen your deal instead."

"Well, of course, no surprise there. You choose what you don’t have after all."

“Wha-” “I was trying to cheer you up and this is what you do to me?!"

"So, you admit that what I just said is true?"

He had his hand over his chest as if he were offended; that forced smile on his face feeling just a little bit more genuine, until it slowly dropped entirely.

“Paris fucked up, Athena. Paris really fucked up.” He sighs. “Do you still remember their oaths?”

“Helen’s suitors?” She thought for a moment. “Apollo, I doubt Paris would still want to keep her after seeing the army that comes after-”

“But he will.” His voice suddenly hardened. “And he’ll keep her for over 10 fucking years and will become the torch that burns his city down to a crisp.”

Her tone softened. “How much did you see?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that Thetis is about to give birth to one of the greatest warriors in recorded history and-” “and-” He suddenly stopped, stuttering.

Athena placed a steady hand on his shoulder, as if he might fall.

Apollo’s grip on the railing tightened. “I-” “I don’t want to lose another one, Athena. Not now, it’s too fucking soon I literally just watched Asclepius-” The tears started trailing down his cheeks until they dissipated into thin air as a whiff of steam. “I just want a fucking break!”

There was a long pause before he continued.

“Why do I care so much?”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t. After all, I’m barely any better.”

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

“Athena?”

“Yes Phoebus?”

“What do you think dad’s going to do about this?”

“…I don’t know.” ------------------

“Apollo?”

“Hm?”

“Do you hate him?”

“…sometimes I wish I did”

“…”

“I-” “I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t be. I occasionally wished I did too, but it’ll never be that simple, no? Who would even replace him?”

“You?”

Athena laughed. “Weren’t you the one always asking to be his heir?”

“I was a very stupid toddler back then, hell, probably still am now. I mean, don’t tell me you actually trust me to run this thing?”

“True. I don’t blame you for not believing in yourself. Honestly, I don’t either.”

“I-” “Wow, you couldn’t have at least sugar-coated it a little?”

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

“Hey Pal, maybe we could share the throne?”

Athena immediately made a face of disgust. “But then if we kept our titles as King and Queen, someone might assume we married each other.”

“Wow!” Apollo tried his best not to laugh. “I mean, I don’t want to marry you either but still, you make it look like being with me is a bad thing!”

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

“I-” “I don’t want to get rid of him Apollo...”

“…I know.”

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

For a few minutes, all they did was stare and enjoy the view; looking down at the earth like they owned everything that the light could touch. Then with a flick of her hand the goddess summoned her spear and slung her shield over her back.

“Apollo, get your bow.”

“Wait-” “What? Why?” It took a few moments for him to realize what she was suggesting. "Athe, no matter how much I try, you know I’ll never stand a chance against you in close combat-"

“I did say get your bow, not your sword, didn’t I? I mean, you’re welcome to try if you want.” Her eyes were taunting him. “Father invited almost every single deity to Thetis and Peleus' wedding in Olympus. Excluding the mortals, the rest of Greece should be fairly empty right now."

"...I guess a duel does sound fun.”

"It certainly does. Besides, you really look like you could use one right now."

"Did-” “Did you just insult me by calling me out of shape or am I just over thinking this and you're genuinely trying to cheer me up?"

"Maybe both."

“…Fine. Only a few conditions: no one uses the aegis or the masterbolt, and that you better be a hundred percent sure father isn’t watching us right now.”

“Of course, wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of him now, would we? I’m not that mean.”

After a few moments of consideration, Apollo summoned his signature bow and wore his golden quiver. Taking one last glance behind them to assure themselves that they were, in fact, alone; they went over the railing. It was faint and easy to miss, but when Athena saw the eager and determined look on his face, she couldn’t help but smile.

‘Now there's the arrogant bastard that I know.’

"Mt. Othrys?" She asked.

"Sure, the closer the more convenient.” He grinned. “Mt. Othrys it is.”

And so, they jumped off, straight into the abandoned ruins of a golden age long forgotten; landing in the middle of all of those towering columns and mighty slabs of black, the remains of their father’s decade long war.

[gaycrouton]

You're wonderful. I love the viagra fic and I want more please🍆🍆🍆

Aaaaaaannnnnnddddd THE FINAL PART IS HERE! Thank you so much for your support! And another thanks to @admiralty-xfd for being my love!

Side note, not to toot my own horn, but this is spicy

Clinical Detatchment II

She’d been doing good, in fact too good, at shutting her mind off to ignore any sounds coming from the other room. She tried to read her case files, get some work done, she even meditated. Aside from a few gasps, she was pretty confident she was doing a good job. Which is why the knocking startled her so badly.

Scully glanced at her watch, amazed by Mulder’s stamina, when she realized the lifetime that had passed had only been six minutes. Walking to the door, instead of relief, she was met with the biggest kicked puppy dog look she’d ever seen from him - pouty lip, glossy eyes, and all.

“Scully, I can’t focus because I’m anxious and I’m scared and I can’t get out of my head, but I don’t want to go to the doctor,” he rambled in a single breath. 

Sighing, she opened the door for him to come in and he waddled in holding the towel to his still prominent bulge. 

“What if you tried watching TV, just charge the Pay-Per-View to your card?” she asked.

“No TV,” he replied, his intonation implying he’d considered that option as well.

She was already mid-scoff when she looked around the room and realized that he was right. Of course they’d be in the one motel in America without a television. 

“What do I do?” he asked in one of the most desperate tones she’d ever heard. She couldn’t blame him, if the situation were reversed, she’d be in a panic by now.

“First, I want you to take a deep breath. You need to calm down,” she commanded, taking a deep breath to lead by example and repeating the motion to get him to mimic her.

“I would have tasted it if it were too high of a dose right?” he asked.

“Not necessarily,” she replied honestly. His brows furrowed and he took a step back, pacing lightly out of stress.

“I’m sorry, I know this is awkward and please don’t think less of me. I just really don’t want to lose my dick,” he confessed, looking at her apologetically.

“Mulder, you’re not going to lose your dick,” she replied. “How does it look now? Did being jostled aggravate it?”

“Is that what you call it, Scully? Being jostled?” he teased before looking down, taking the towel away from himself just a millimeter to try and peek. 

“Mulder, there’s no need to be shy right now,” she reminded him.

He looked at her with chagrin before acknowledging that. Wordlessly, he pulled the towel away and the motion caused his penis to bob once against his stomach before resuming its normal stance at attention. 

She took a step closer and grabbed it lightly, moving it gently to look at it fully. “Fuck, Scully,” he gasped in surprise and something that sounded much more relief than displeasure.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she bit back a gasp. When she’d brushed it with her palm she undoubtedly felt him twitch in her hand. “It still looks normal,” she assessed before taking a step back. 

As she did this, she noticed the way his eyes had been locked on her face hungrily, something she’d been too distracted to notice before. His eyes were dilated and his jaw was clenched, a sight that might appear like anger to others - but looked like unadulterated lust to her. 

Scully swallowed and, aside from his gaze flickering to the hollow of her throat, he came back to himself and looked away, covering himself once more. “Why don’t you call one of your 1-900 numbers?” she asked.

“First of all, you shouldn’t know about those. Second of all, I cancelled my accounts a few months back,” he replied.

“Why?”

He shrugged non-committedly and murmured “I didn’t feel like I needed them anymore.”  If she was gauging correctly, he looked shy at this admittance. She knew for a fact he wasn’t with anyone, so the timing just felt oddly coincidental to when they started hanging out after work more often. Part of her wanted to think it was directly related to their increased time together, but the rational side told her it was more likely that he just didn’t have as much time for it.

“You know, some say when the prostate is stimulated just right that orgasm is almost involuntary-”

“No judgement, but I don’t think the first time I want something in my ass is under these circumstances,” he deadpanned.

She wiped her face as if to rid herself of her stress and contemplated the situation. Really contemplated the situation. They’d been teetering on this line between being platonic and more for a while now. That back massage she’d given him a few weeks ago involved way more touching than necessary, him kissing her cheek was a given after a night hanging out and cheek had slowly been wandering into side of the mouth territory, and she’d dare to go so far as to say they’d even been cuddling without calling it cuddling during movie nights. 

All in all, their platonic relationship was a camel with two thousand straws on its back. This would be the one to break it.

She let out another long breath before looking him in the eye. “Mulder?”

He met her gaze and furrowed his brow, alarmed at her severity. “What?”

“I want you to know I’m only saying this because I trust you and if we want this can eternally remain a secret,” she started. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with prying eyes, trying to decipher her meaning. Keeping her hands firmly planted at her sides, lest she give way to her nerves, she stated, “If you think there’s anything I could do to help, I’m willing.”

His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened, scanning her to make sure he was understanding her correctly. “Scully, I could never ask-”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering,” she clarified.

He continued to stand there stunned, still holding the cloth against himself,  and she started to feel self-conscious. “You even mentioned earlier in your room that you were afraid you’d come in front of me. And earlier before at the restaurant you seemed to get flustered when I touched yo-”

“Yeah, Scully. I’m obviously attracted to you, but I don’t want you to do anything like that out of pity,” he explained. He paused for a minute before adding, “And I don’t want you to think I came in here under the assumption you’d help.”

She sighed and wished anything could be easy or simple. “I’d never think that, Mulder. And I’m not doing it out of pity. Again, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t comfortable with the idea. You know me better than that.”

Her final words seemed to really strike something in him and a look of understanding started to cross his face. “But I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your condition either. Just because I find you attractive doesn’t mean I would ever expolit-”

“Really?” he asked, astonished, his sincerity almost laughable with the straining erection pressing the thin fabric held in front of him.

“W-what?” she asked, feeling like the room was a hundred degrees hotter than it had been earlier.

“You’re attracted to me?”

She rolled her eyes at how juvenile this all was. “Mulder, I think we both know we’re attracted to each other,” she declared honestly, unable to meet his eyes.

He was silent for a moment before chuckling lightly. “I never thought it would come out this way,” he stated quietly, almost to himself.

“Part of me isn’t surprised,” she admitted with a small smile. Conventionalities had yet to find a place in their partnership. 

“I know this,” he gestured to his erection, “-says differently, but I’m nervous. I feel like a teenager again,” he laughed.

She offered him a reassuring smile to let him know the feeling was mutual. “It’s just me,” she whispered shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” he murmured. 

She took in a deep breath, feeling her heart continue to beat rapidly in her chest. The words were out there now, but that was only the beginning. “Do you think I could help you?” she asked, posing the question to him with a lilt.

It wasn’t meant to be seductive, but her question caused him to lick his lips and his eyes to roam to her chest before they shot respectfully to the wall art. “Can I be honest?” he asked.

“I’d be offended if you weren’t,” she replied.

He chuckled as he raised a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’d always thought we’d take things slow.”

“We still can,” she told him in earnest, playing with the nail of her middle finger.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and stated uncertainty, “How?”

“Well…” she thought and looked around as if inspiration for how to get your partner off would manifest in the wallpaper. She was rewarded by an idea coming from a glance at the motel phone. “You talked to those women to get off before.”

“Yeah…?” he questioned, uncertain of her intent with that statement.

“What if…you talked to me?” she asked coquettishly.

It was a minute gesture, but she saw him squeeze himself through the hand towel. “So, we talk while I…?” He made a gesture to his crotch and she nodded. “It feels vulgar to jack off in front of you.”

Deciding honesty might help the situation, she admitted, “I wouldn’t be appalled if that’s what you think.” He cocked an eyebrow in surprise and she did the same in response. “But, what if for now, you sat on the bed and I sat in the chair by the adjoining door facing away from you?”

He nodded in understanding before meeting her eyes. “Are you sure?”

She nodded before walking over, grabbing the chair and dragging it to face the corner of the room, realistically only ending up three feet at most away from Mulder, but it gave the illusion of privacy. 

She sat down as she heard him get comfortable on the bed. They stilled for a moment in their positions, as if both really realizing what was going to happen. The only sounds in the room left were their pounding hearts and their shallow breaths. “I’ve never done this before,” she laughed nervously, breaking the silence.

“We don’t hav-”

“I want to,” she interrupted. “I promise.” She did too, despite her nerves, the thought of getting him off was one she’d entertained on countless lonely nights and the idea of finally fulfilling the fantasy was turning her on.

Deciding to begin, she asked. “So, what do you and the call girls usually talk about?”

“Um, sexual fantasies normally. Just like, verbally acting them out,” he admitted with hesitancy.

“Your fantasies specifically or one either of you just makes up?” 

“Mine. I’d tell her what I liked and she’d improv from there,” he explained.

Curiosity was burning in her as to if he was already touching himself. Was he waiting? Was he looking at her? “Tell me one.”

“You promise you won’t get mad?” he asked.

She wanted to send him a curious look at his choice of wording, but didn’t want to break his trust by looking. “Yes.”

“Um, usually, I’d ask her to pretend to be my coworker,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” she breathed. She’d never imagined his sexual habits as a conduit for relief of their own sexual tension, but the newfound knowledge stirred something deep inside. “What else would you tell her?”

“I’d describe you,” he admitted, the sound of his voice resonating slightly differently and she realized he was, indeed, facing her. “Your hair, your face, your body type.”

“Give me an example. What would you say to her,” she requested. She just wanted to hear him say it.

“She has short, auburn hair - enough to grab but not enough to get in the way; she’s beautiful, stunningly so, with intense blue eyes, plump red lips, and an aquiline nose; she’s very short-”

She let out a little huff of laughter and he paused to chuckle alongside her. “As I was saying, she’s very short, with a very lithe build - athletic but graceful.”

She was stunned at the delicacy and precision of his words, clearly all of the sentiments expressed were ones he was confident in and it gave her a boost of confidence. “What am I wearing?” Present tense. First person point of view.  He recognized that change as well and the tension in the room started to become more comfortable as they got into it.

“Your usual business clothes, much like the ones you’re wearing now.” She was about to ask another question when he added, “But underneath you’re wearing a matching black lace bra and panty set, and when I’m taking it off you tell me you wore it for me.”

A chill went down her spine as she remembered what she’d put on this morning. Had he seen somehow? The coincidence had her spooked, but thrilled at the same time. 

“Where are we?” she asked.

“The office,” he answered quickly, obviously already picturing it vividly in his mind. She wasn’t sure if he was making the next part up just to hear what she’d say or if this was really how it went. “That’s usually all I say before she takes over.”

There was a gruffness to his voice that told her he was undoubtedly touching himself, the gentle sounds of the bed moving underneath his shifting hips signifying the same. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in the basement, in the very same office they’d been in only a few days ago, where seven years of flirty comments, longing gazes, and sexual tension permeated the space.

“Okay, but let me know if I’m not doing it right,” she nodded, adjusting herself in her seat while trying to ignore the dull ache in her groin.

“I highly doubt that’s possible,” he murmured.

“But I just need to know one thing before starting,” she stipulated.

She heard the movements stop as he answered, “Of course, what is it?”

“In your fantasies, am I the instigator, or is it you?” she asked softly, biting her lips as she waited for an answer. He was silent for a moment and she could hear his mind whirring with the possibilities that came from both ideas. 

“You.”

She’d imagined both so many times that she would have been ready for either. The implication of his choice was obvious; her speaking as the instigator made it more for her rather than making it sound like she was just pandering to his desires. She hoped he knew that wasn’t what this was.

“Good choice,” she complimented before clearing her throat.

She’d truly never done anything like this before in her life. The only thing comparable was her journal that had seen glimpses of a really good fantasy or a recalled dream. That’s how she’d have to do this - just act like she was reading from her private diary.

“It’s Tuesday morning and you’ve been in a mood all morning,” she began. He chuckled and she immediately felt her cheeks redden. “I told you I hadn’t done this before.”

He stifled his laughter quickly to reassure, “No, no. I’m sorry. I just found it funny that even in a fantasy I’m brooding and morose.”

Comforted that it wasn’t her he was laughing at she smiled and defended herself, “May I continue, Mulhder.” She drew out his name in a more sensuous tone than she’d ever used in his presence before and she heard him agree readily.

“It’s Tuesday morning and I can tell something’s off. I’ve been looking across the desk at you since you came in and I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong and every time I ask, you just say you’re fine.”

As she mentally planned out her fantasy she blushed at the fact she was revealing quite a bit about her secret wants. Too late now. “It takes a few hours of prompting before you make a snide comment about me going out with another man.”

There was an abrupt halt then too, and he spoke up again, “Scully, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t-”

She could hear him getting upset at the idea of her fantasy including another man and she smiled at the meta nature of it all, “Let me finish.”

The sounds started up softly again and she took it as a sign to continue. “When you mention it, I feel indignant. I’d spent the night touching myself to the thought of you and I woke up this morning double checking myself in the mirror and hoping you’d like what you’d see, and the fact you would think I could look at another man pisses me off.” The absolute honestly of the words leaving her mouth burned, her mouth felt like a loaded gun and her face felt like it was on fire. But the honesty was erotic.

Mulder thought so too. At these new words she heard a clear as day moan escape his lips, though it sounded like he tried to silence it. “I ask you what you’re talking about and it becomes clear someone said something stupid to you to get you riled up and it worked. I’m pissed you’d believe it so readily, but when I look at you I can see you’d rolled your sleeves up, your jaw is set, and you look absolutely jealous. Possessive even, and it turns me on instantly. I try to meet your eye with a leveled glance and try to ignore the fact that I can feel myself getting wet.”

He inhaled quickly and his breath comes out trembling. “I want to play with you a little bit, see how much you’re willing to admit you’re jealous, but I don’t think you will. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me now that you’re thinking of some nameless agent and imagining his hands on me. You’re thinking of him touching me, fucking me, making me come, and it pisses you off because you know it should be you. You know that no one could pleasure me better than you could.” Now it was her turn to take a deep, shuddering breath. She was staring at the corner of the wall intently, the depressed line where two surfaces meet, as she spoke. The comfort of not having to face him, yet hearing the effect her words had on him was painfully sexy.

“I ask what you mean and you confirm my suspicions. You overheard some guy make a comment about taking me out and you misconstrued it. But you’re not covering your feelings up at all. You don’t say it’s none of your business, you don’t say I can do whoever I want, you don’t say you don’t care, because you know that would all be a lie.”

She’d unabashedly squeezed her legs together to relieve some friction, but it wasn’t enough. She could hear the now rhythmic shifting of the bed, and with the hope he was too distracted to notice, without moving her arm too much she slid her hand in between her legs and up her skirt. Her knuckles brushed against her damp panties and she sucked in a breath and hoped Mulder didn’t hear it. She quickly tries to mask it as her starting another sentence and resumed her narration. “Even though I’m a little upset with you, I can’t stop focusing on how sexy you look. I stand up abruptly and I can tell you think I’m going to leave and you sit up in your seat. For a moment I think you’re going to try and stop me and the idea sends another wave of arousal rushing through me. But you stay in your seat and watch me like a hawk as I walk around the desk so that I’m right beside you, leaning back against the wood.”

She fingers the elastic on the side of her underwear before pulling it to the side and letting her index and ring finger press onto her swollen clit. Her body jolts once and her head rolls to the side. There’s a slickness to the sound of Mulder’s masturbation now and she knows it’s working. For both of them. “When I ask you if you seriously think I’m going out with someone else and you’re shocked. Before you’d been empathizing with the man, understanding what it’s like to want me and you were just jealous he acted on it. Now I’m making you empathize with me and you know me better than to think I’d be fraternizing with some other guy after how close we’d been getting recently.”

“Scully?” he prompted, his voice strained.

“Hmm?” she replied, not trusting her own.

“Are you touching yourself?”

She froze, her fingers just starting to press into herself as she realized she’d been caught. She was about to apologize before he requested. “Can I see you?”

His words weighed heavy in the room as she contemplated them, both of them eager to see what her next action would be. She took her fingers away, slightly surprised at the amount of wetness coating them as her underwear snapped back into place. She stood up and adjusted the chair so it was facing Mulder, and slightly closer to the bed too. She didn’t risk a look at him in fear of chickening out before she sat down. But as she slid into the chair she had to suppress a moan.

He wasn’t lying on the bed. He was sitting on the edge, his feet planted on the floor as he faced her.

He’d been watching her the entire time.

His cock was wet, thick, and swollen in his hand, which hadn’t stopped its rhythmic pumping. Encouraged by his brazenness, she slipped out of her blazer, leaving herself in her thin blouse, letting it fall to the ground next to her, and rose up slightly just to hitch her skirt over her hips. Then she reclined again, spread her legs, and resumed her prior actions.

She saw Mulder mouth the word ‘fuck’ as his hand sped up, and she had no doubt the look in her eye was anything other than lascivious. “W-where was I?” she asked.

“You were mentioning how close we’ve been getting lately,” he informed.

They locked eyes and smiled at the irony of that statement contrasted with their current situation. “Right. You start apologizing and I can tell you’re relieved, but you also feel bad for jumping to conclusions.” She swirls around her clit proficiently enough to make her gasp and jerk slightly against the chair and she saw Mulder’s eyes hungrily devour the motion. 

“Then what do you say?” he asked, adding a second hand below himself to cup his balls, fondling them with precision.

“I lean down close to you tell you I could never be with anyone else because all I think about is you and how much I want you, fuck,” she gasped as she started feeling the beggining twinges of an orgasm. She was reaching the point of inevitability and she couldn’t help but grind her hips against her hand. 

Scully let her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling, not saying anything as she began swirling her clit more fervently, chasing her climax. “Yeah, that’s it, Scully,” he praised, his voice husky and gruff.

Feeling guilty she was on the brink when this was intended to help Mulder, she forced her head back down to look at him, though her hand’s actions didn’t slow. Her voice was uneven and strained as she tried to talk through her arousal. “Hearing me say that was all you needed and you jump up from your seat and grab me, kissing me like your life depended on it. I’m overwhelmed with feeling your arms around me, the way your tongue feels against mine, and how your hands feel on my body.”

She’d spent the past ten minutes working them up, and with one more sentence, he made her come undone.

“God, I want you.”

Her jaw dropped open as waves of pleasure radiated through her entire body. She screamed his name as her fingers mercilessly worked her clit to draw out her orgasm. Her legs went from being rigid, to squeezing her hand between her thighs, to quivering in quick five second intervals. 

When the orgasm subsided, he was pumping furiously and looked absolutely drunk with pleasure. Even though she’d just come, every cell in her body was on fire and craving more. 

The pretense they were hiding behind, the divulgence of a mutual fantasy, was undeniably sexy, but in this moment it didn’t feel like enough. She’d spent years fantasizing about them over and over again, it would never get old, but she fantasized because she felt they were things that could only happen in a dream.

She didn’t want to fantasize when the reality dangled its potential right in front of her face.

“Mulder,” she whispered, his name tumbling wordlessly from her bitten lips.

“Hm?” he replied, slowing down just ever so slightly. 

“I know you wanted to take it slow, but haven’t we waited long enough?” she questioned, her chest rising and falling as she tried to stabilize her breath.

“Are you sure?” he replied, halting his motion and searching her eyes for the hesitation he’d never find. 

“In your fantasies, am I the instigator, or is it you?”

“You.”

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve and stood up. She locked eyes with him and maintained eye contact as she sauntered over to him and hooked a leg over either side of his hips on the mattress, relieved when his hands came to her thighs to stabilize her before roaming the skin experimentally. The whole time he stared at her with so much reverence she felt like Aphrodite incarnated. 

Regardless of her boldness, the last ten minutes included, and despite the fact she could feel their arousals all but straining to touch the other, the absolute intimacy of this situation was not lost on her. This was really going to happen. She was nestled on Mulder’s lap, so close she could smell his aftershave from this morning and she could feel the warmth of his body head radiating onto her, and she started to feel her heart race with something other than arousal.

She raised her hands up, ignoring the way they were trembling, and cupped his cheeks, taking a moment to stroke her thumb against the skin textured by his five o’clock shadow. Her eyes roamed his face as she let her thumbs dip low enough to stroke his full bottom lip. He surprised her, eliciting a gasp, as he pressed a kiss to the wandering digits.

She looked up to meet his eyes and saw adoration reflected in their depths. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered, the words ripped from her lips without her giving thought to them.

A humbled smile broke out from beneath her thumbs as she felt one of his hands travel up her back to rest on the nape of her neck, his index finger instinctively tracing the scar he didn’t need to see to locate. Her breath hitched at the contact and, in the same breath, she lowered her hands to his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his. 

The timidity that may have been present under other circumstances was far removed as a result of the mutual masturbation session that had just taken place and the suffocating desire that was enshrouding them both. As soon as their lips touched their tongues followed suit and he pulled her tightly against him so that they were flush together.

Her hands started at his shoulders, but they quickly migrated south to roam the expanse of his back, enjoying the curves and contours of his muscles under her touch. Widening her legs, she sank down so that his erection nestled itself into the vee of her thighs, rubbing against the soaked fabric of her panties. He groaned against her lips and bucked upwards in a languid scooping motion that made her gasp.

He surprised her by hooking his arms under her legs and standing up, bringing her along with him. She let out a huff of aroused amusement at his eagerness before he turned around and laid her down in the middle of the bed, crawling on top of her as soon as she hit the mattress. He took a moment to rid himself of his shirt and she followed suit, unbuttoning her shirt as quickly as she could with her excitement hindering her precision. He saw what she was doing and started at the bottom hem edge of her shirt, unbuttoning simultaneously in the other direction until their hands met in the middle so she could arch her back and rid herself of the garment. She went one step further and lifted her hips so she could shimmy out of her skirt, tossing it off the bed before repositioning her legs against Mulder on either side.

He placed his hands greedily on her sides and ran them up and down her torso and all over her abdomen like he could commit it to memory by touching her enough. His eyes drank her in and she felt his hips roll against hers, pressing arousal to arousal sensuously. “Black lace,” he murmured with an appreciative grin as he used his hands to cup her breasts and tease her nipples through the thin fabric.

“Sometimes when I’m getting dressedI think about what you’d see if if were you undressing me. If you’d like what you saw. I didn’t know how right I was until earlier,” she admitted, arching her back and scooting so she could press herself more firmly against him and undulate her hips to match his movements.

He paused and a thoughtful look passed his face. “You thought of me when you put this on?” he asked.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as she watched him. He smiled like this was the best news he’d ever received. He moved one hand to the valley of her breasts and teasingly toyed with the clasp. “As much as I love your taste in lingerie,” as he said this he unclipped the middle and it came apart, her breasts shifting out of the confines. Then moving his mouth over where the clasp had been, continued with, “- I want to see all of you.”

She helped him remove the bra, tossing it off the bed before his head descended and he latched his mouth directly onto her nipple, sucking, teasing, and nipping before diverting the attention to the other one. Each flick of his tongue sent a ripple of pleasure down her spine, goosebumps erupting over her skin as she clutched the bedsheets. When he switched his attention from breast to breast, he’d pepper little kisses all across her sternum and whisper half complete statements like “so beautiful” and “can’t believe.”

Through her haze of arousal she remembered what started this all and figured they shouldn’t wait anymore. “M-Mu-lder,” she whimpered, squeezing his hips with her thighs to get his attention.

“Hmm?” he hummed with a nipple still in his mouth, the wetness heightening the pleasure the vibrations caused.

“I want you, now,” she moaned, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him up.

He grunted enthusiastically and lifted himself off her. She missed the contact, but was quickly rewarded with the sight of him shimmying out of his boxers before crawling back on top of her. 

His face was looming over hers as their bodies pressed flush together and it was another moment that broke through the haze of lust. It was as if the moment dawned on them both and they couldn’t help but smile. She lifted a hand up and brushed his hair back as she beamed at him, trying not to ruin the heat of the moment by getting teary eyed. They didn’t have to communicate to know the gravity of this moment, that everything they’d ever done had been leading up to this moment. 

She leaned up and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she reached in between them to find his erection and guide it to her entrance. He hissed at the contact and watched her reaction as she angled her hips to allow his tip to sink in an inch or two.

Mulder’s inside me.

It wasn’t even all the way yet, but the simple fact it was happening excited and thrilled her. Mulder eased himself up into a position where he had more control without ever slipping out of her. “You’ll let me know if I hurt you, right?”

She raised her legs up and hooked them around his back so that he had easier access, wrapping her arms around his neck at the same time. “I know I won’t have to,” she whispered, placing a kiss to his lips before pressing her heel into his back in encouragement.

Slowly, he eased in inch by inch, giving her time to adjust to his size. Her body tensed occasionally at the intrusion and the slight pain from being stretched so much, and, just as she predicted, Mulder took her hitched breath or the tensing of her muscles as a sign to pause until she relaxed again. During the brief intermissions, he’d kiss her mouth or play with her nipples, anything to help ease the dull pain.

But when he was completely in and she was able to move her hips a bit in exploration, the dull pain began turning into pleasure. Pleasure that Mulder had undoubtedly been feeling excruciatingly well this whole time if the sweat on his brow and the look of rapture on his face were any indication.

“I’m good,” she breathed out huskily. “You can move.”

He settled into a better position where he still had control but where their pelvises could have more contact. He began at a slow, languid pace, analyzing her face for any sign of discomfort and using it as a gauge for if he could speed up.

In no time, he was snapping his hips back and forth with his thrusts - the entire bed rocking with the momentum. She’d never felt so full and satisfied in her entire life and for what felt like the first time - sex wasn’t partially performative. Not once did she make a sound just to let Mulder know she was having a good time. No - these moans and whimpers continually falling from her mouth felt like they were being ripped from her. Involuntary reactions to an overflow of overwhelming lust and satisfaction all caused by him.

Mulder’s face was a mask of complete and utter bliss. Not once did his eyes leave her body; they roamed from her face to the way her breasts bounced on her chest to her glistening arousal as he bucked against her. “You’re s-so beau-tiful, Scully,” he praised with struggling breath.

“So are you,” she replied with a quick exhale, smiling at him. Watching his muscles work under his skin as he moved was extremely erotic.

She felt the stirrings of a second orgasm building, but she knew it would be harder in this position. “Mulder, I wanna be on top,” she requested ineloquently.

He smiled at her and let out a full blown chuckle as she squealed at his quick movement. With amazing dexterity, he rolled to the side onto his back while keeping her latched to him with his hands on her hips. In a whirlwind of motion, she was on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, as he laid on his back.

The visual stimulation alone was almost enough to send her over the edge. His engorged and throbbing cock was still buried to the hilt inside of her while he looked up at her in awe. It was empowering and she’d never felt more attractive. 

She adjusted her knees into a better position before she began rocking, lifting herself up and down his shaft without letting him fall out. She threw her head back at the sensation and raised her hands to cup her breasts, playing with the weight and tweaking her nipples to heighten her pleasure. She gasped and jerked when she felt his hands rest on her hips, letting one hand dip lower so his thumb could circle her clit as she rode him.

“Fuck, please,” she gasped, picking up the speed and enjoying the lewd sounds of their sexes joining reverberating off the motel walls. 

Intermittently, she’d stop bouncing in favor of sinking down as much as she could and squirming on his lap, enjoying the way she could feel his whole cock inside her and how his tip pressed against her walls so deeply. Whenever she did this, he’d pick up where she left off and buck his hips upwards, making her bounce slightly on his crotch.

One of the times she did this, he started swirling her clit furiously and she knew she was done for. “Muldermuldermulderpleasedon’tstop,” she rambled as she felt her body climbing the peak of pleasure, excitement building at the prospect of jumping over the edge and falling into the depths of ecstasy. 

He could see it in her face and became relentless, swirling her swollen nub mercilessly as her ground her hips against his, keeping her firmly pressed against him by grabbing her hip with his free hand. “That’s it, Scully. I want to feel you come,” he growled.

Something about the way he said her name, mixed with the overwhelming sensations made her second orgasm roar through her. She all but collapsed on him, desperate for as much contact with him as possible as she shook and gyrated her body to prolong her climax. She could see stars and heard a ringing in her ears from the intensity, and she groaned in pleasure when she felt him start thrusting erratically. There was so much intensity that she felt his hips lifting off the bed before she felt him spill inside her as he cried her name into her hair.

She shakily chuckled as she fell against him, not wanting to break the contact yet, but too spent to have the energy to do anything other than lay on top of him. She rose and fell with his uneven breathing, and her eyes fluttered shut as his hand came up to stroke her back tenderly.

“That was-” he began.

“Better than any fantasyI’ve ever had,” she finished, lifting a hand to rest next to her face on his chest.

“You can say that again,” he laughed, kissing the top of her head.

She was so soothed by his warmth and his fingers making lazy patterns on her skin that she never wanted to move. She distantly felt his breath even out and his cock softening inside of her as she felt sleep start to-

Wait.

She rolled off of him so that she instead lay flush parallel to him, still in his arms, as she took a look down. “Mulder, your erection’s gone,” she exclaimed in relief.

He craned his head to look and relief that he wouldn’t have to go get an operation on his penis shone through his eyes. He turned his neck and placed a kiss to her lips, pulling back only to say, “I have a really good doctor.”

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [19]

Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 19.5 OR Chapter 20

➜ Words: 3.1k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

“Thirty days.”   Your eyes are locked with his and he hangs on every word that falls from your lips. “Enter an agreement with me. If after thirty days, it doesn’t work, then we can break it off. If after thirty days, we aren’t happy, then we can both mutually walk away and never try again.”   Hoseok is a man of plans. Negotiating and establishing contracts between parties is a part of his job. So it doesn’t take much convincing, especially when he wants this as much as you do. “Okay.”   //   There’s a shift. A change. Yet, at the same time, nothing feels significantly different. Maybe it’s in the way your shoulders feel lighter, even if the worry is still there. You can smile when your eyes meet his now and he returns it meekly as if it’s a promise that everything will be okay, that he’ll follow through.   The rest of the office gathers together and no one asks any questions. But Jimin still pulls you aside, asking if there’s an issue he should know about. You reassure him things are fine — finding it funny how everyone automatically takes your side, including Hoseok’s own partner.   For so long, your life has felt chaotic. It’s a breath of relief to find the world normal and constant outside your bubble. And it’s not difficult to revert back and discover peace again. Between the bickering of Yoongi and Sunyi, Jin and Taehyung being noisy with the latter clinging onto Jungkook, everything has returned to its ordinary days. Just this time, you just have someone by your side.   The night market is bustling with people and crowds, lights twinkling in every direction. “Ooh, chicken skewers!” Like a hyperactive dog, Jin goes running off to a stand and Namjoon follows.   Jungkook is also infected with enthusiasm and quickly turns towards you. “Want some, Y/N?”   “I’m good, thanks.”   Sunyi takes a moment to stop at a stand, putting on a yellow sun hat with flowers decorated around the ribbon as the vendor watches with a smile. “What do you think of this hat?”   “You should pick one that covers up your face more,” Yoongi deadpans, causing the girl to scowl at him.   Eventually, the group splits off, either eating or shopping for souvenirs. You remain walking on the streets alongside Hoseok, stealing a few peeks at him when given the chance. His hand slips from his pants pocket casually and as you stroll, it grazes the back of yours.   “You can hold my hand if you want to,” you murmur, not sure if he hears you.   But then after a delayed moment, Hoseok hums a low note and takes it. He laces his fingers with yours and a tiny smile sneaks up your lips, matching Hoseok’s. You lean closer to him, no one else in the office turning around to notice. It’s a long way to go, but it’s just the beginning.

The quietness used to make you feel unsettled. There was something about being in the silence of your own head, stewing over numerous thoughts, aboard trains that you don’t know where they’ll lead, only to forget once you’ve snapped out of it. But no longer is that quietness unpleasant. While you’ve had enough time to become comfortable in your own presence, having him here beside you makes you all the more content. The silence is far too comfortable.   You stare out the window, smile stuck on your face, exhaling. The sceneries pass by, playing along to the tune of the soft radio. He’s singing quietly to any song he remembers and you don’t say anything, merely listening and being lulled.   “You know…” You break the quiet, craning your neck over to stare at his profile. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me.”   “Who says I am?” The lawyer steals a glimpse of you, a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips.   “Me,” you tease, having too much fun know that the tables have turned. You repeat the things he used to tell you, using his own words against him. “You’re stiff — I can tell.”   Hoseok snorts, a rush of air coming from his nose and his mouth curls. “I’m not just used to switching off my work mode. Plus, you’re too adorable and I’m not sure how to deal with that yet.”   You scoff. “Don’t act cute with me, Jung.”   “Why not?” He pouts, puffing out his cheeks and quirking his head to the side as if trying to appeal to you. “Don’t you like me cute?”   “Focus on the road before we crash and die.”   Hoseok laughs, hands moving along the steering wheel and turning it with the palm of his hand. He leans back in his seat, acting excessively casual and cool that it almost comes off as practiced. “You want to go to dinner afterwards? I still haven’t taken you out on our first official date yet.”   “Depends where.”   “How about Chinese?”   You consider it before recalling the lunch you shared with him a few months back and a sense of nostalgia brings a better idea. “How about curry?”   “Curry, it is! Yes, ma’am.”   A giggle spills from your throat and you give a firm nod of approval. “That’s right.”   “I know a good place. Leave it up to me.”   “Okay. But if we eat at my place, you’re going to leave after.”   “Of course.” Hoseok gasps, playing into his natural theatrics, and making you laugh when he pretends to take offense. “Who do you take me for?”   “I’m just putting it out there. It’s my personal first date rules.”   “Mine too.” He takes another peek before focusing on the road ahead. “Just letting you know, i have plans to abstain from any physical contact for the next decade.”   Hoseok smiles when you laugh, cheeks aching. It seems that lately, all you feel is giddy. You point off to the curb, trying your best to remain composed, but obviously failing. “You should park here.”   “Isn’t that too far away?”   “...I don’t want my mom to chase you again.”   “Fair enough.” Hoseok was helping you pick up your belongings that you left at your mom’s while staying there. It didn’t take an extra second for him to offer his driving services and you didn’t object either. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” He opens the door for you, ushering you out with the utmost courtesy. “How’s your shoulder and your neck?”   “I’m fine,” you insist. “I’m a lot better.”   Still, he remains unsure. “Call me if you need help.”   “I don’t know, Jung. You think you can handle my mom?” You’re bantering with him, all in good fun. But when his expression becomes blank, you realize he genuinely seems sad and sorry about it. You know Hoseok’s used to people not liking him in his line of work, but your mom was an important family member and it was clear he wanted her approval. You quickly jump in before his brain can implode with stress. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, alright? I’ll be out in five minutes.”   “Okay.”   You walk down the block, crossing the street before stepping up towards the front door. No one answers the doorbell. You ring again. Waiting. No one answers. With a sigh, you dig into your pockets for the key, wondering if she’s sleeping. The door opens and you slip off your shoes.   “Mom?”   “Y/N?” Her voice comes from upstairs and immediately, the ceiling trembles with her stomping steps making haste. “I thought I heard that doorbell!”   “I’m just grabbing—”   It happens too suddenly. Your mom’s hurrying down the stairs. And her foot — it slips. Her arm extends, grabbing onto the banister, but it’s not enough to hold her upright. Her feet lurch forward. Her body pulls away from her arms, going in different directions. There’s a terrible crash, and she tumbles down the stairs, hitting against the wall. You shout, paralyzed in shock.   And your mom curses, laying on the floor by your feet.   //   A conclusion in your mind has finally been reached — the hospital is a terrible place to be. You didn’t know you would return so soon and this time, it isn’t even for you. You’re holding your mother’s cold hand in yours, unable to stop crying and sobbing onto the sheets as you’re hunched over, sitting in the stool beside her bed. The heart monitor lurches every so often with a beat. And while the sound is eerie and unpleasant, looking at her is even more so.   The right side of her forehead is bruised, purple flowers blooming on her old skin wrinkled from age. You never noticed how tired she is, how it’s made her aged, and it makes you sob harder.   “Oh my god.” She finally speaks up. “You need to save this for the funeral.”   You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and she continues relentlessly, “I’m not dead yet and I won’t die so easily. God knows you’ve given me a heart attack enough times — if I’m not in the grave by now, I won’t be for a while.”   “I thought….I thought…”   “You’re just like your dad.” A softer smile pulls on her lips. “So concerned about everything. It gives me a headache.” You manage a small laugh at her absurdity. Honestly, you expect nothing less. “If you care this much, you’d visit more often or pick up your phone and call me. It wouldn’t kill you.”   “Sorry…”   The older woman nods, turning to face the plain ceiling and sighing. “My butt kind of hurts.”   You frown, looking over her and slightly hovering. “Do you need me to call someone?”   “I want liquids.”   “Water?”   “No. Tea.” She smiles. “Go look into the vending machines. As long as it’s not that iced tea, I’m fine with anything. If not, go to the cafeteria or find a coffee shop.”   You’re appalled. “You want….tea?”   “Yes. Will you get it for your dear mother?” Her request is more like a command. You’re not even sure if she’s allowed to have tea and you don’t know what’s wrong with her, but you abide your mother’s headstrong will, slowly getting up. “And leave that door open. I need some air in here. It’s suffocating me.”   You obey, leave it slightly ajar and your eyes straying off before you spin around on your heel, going on a quest for tea whilst feeling like a child navigating the hospital on an odd mission. It’s quiet for a long moment and the woman inside the room sighs once more and looks off at the door. Her voice is still strong despite her fall.   “Jung, get yourself in here. Don’t make me repeat myself twice.”   There’s ten seconds of silence. Then, a nose pokes through the gap of the door and there’s someone meekly shuffling inside, acting all too out of character. Hoseok’s head is downcasted, eyes pinned to the ground, practically bowing on the floor. “Hello.”   Your mother moves to sit upright, wincing in the process. The lawyer’s eyes widen and he rushes over, arms opening to help her, but then he retracts when she manages on her own. “Sit down, boy, and don’t touch me.”   He immediately plops down and she glares, detesting his very face. Eventually, she looks away, scanning the premise. It’s a small hospital room with a window off the left wall, but private nonetheless. “You must be doing well if you could afford a room like this.”   “I-uh...I’m doing okay.”   “Did you really think I wouldn’t know you were here? I was still conscious when you picked me up, threw me into the backseat, and shipped me here.”   “S-sorry…” Hoseok takes a deep breath, meeting her eyes. He hasn’t felt so nervous for something since his job interview at Wendy’s firm, but with years of being under strict authority and in stressful situations, he composes himself and speaks in a gentler tone. His hands are placed reverently on his thighs and he bows his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did to make you feel this way towards me. But I’m sorry for my actions. I was in accident—”   “Save it. I’ve already heard it from my daughter.” The woman exhales, locking her gaze onto his and boring her eyes into his skull. Hoseok never thought there would be someone more intimidating than his sister, but he swallows hard and shuts up, allowing her to talk. “You’re a cruel man, Hoseok.”   “To have the audacity to come back and court my daughter after you left her high and dry.” She half-scoffs and gives half a laugh of disbelief. The woman feels your humiliation, the shame of crawling back to someone who threw you away, the anger, the sadness, the helplessness. “You can’t even remember what you did to her. When I heard, I thought this was from a TV drama. I thought no way was this part of real life. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made it all up. But of course, it has to be real. You always find new ways to make my only daughter suffer. You can’t leave her alone, can you? Had I known back then, I would’ve thrown you out onto the streets right that instant.”   She looks away with a scoff, too tired to berate him further, insult him, or chuck the tissue box at her bedside table towards his figure. The woman has given up. She sighs. “Well...what can you do?” It’s almost as if she’s speaking to herself. “How am I supposed to stop you...or her? I’m an old lady. I can’t even chase you out the house properly without falling over.”   “But I hope that your intentions with my daughter are right or may god help you, Jung Hoseok, I will personally see you in hell.” It’s what her late husband would’ve said..maybe in less sharp terms. Still, she recites the words, reminding the lawyer who sits motionlessly beside her. “When I die, she won’t have any family left and no one to support her. I hope you will be the person she leans on.”   “I won’t disappoint you,” he reaffirms, earnest in his promise, keeping his head downcasted respectfully.   “I’m not giving you my blessing because of you, boy. I’m giving it because I know my daughter’s stupid and you’re stupid — it makes you both a good match. And if I didn’t accept you...well...I’d rather not make her suffer more.” Despite her cold words and insults, her arm extends, putting her hand over his like she did with you. She pats him once with a bit of reluctance.   “If you’re not serious, if you’re not committed to her, then tell me. I don’t want you to make a mistake and make her experience...that again.”   “I’m serious about Y/N,” Hoseok whispers, wholehearted and purposeful with how he punctuates the syllables. “I love your daughter very much.”   “Good.” She nods and allows herself to relax back into the soft bed. “That makes me feel a lot more at peace.”   Outside of the room, you’re leaning against the wall. You’re right by the door with a cup in hand, but never once are you seen from the inside. Patients, doctors, and nurses pass by you, the world moving around. They’re oblivious to your smile and the way your chest has eased with a bigger weight you didn’t even notice existing there.   //   “Did my mom say anything?” The door shuts to your apartment and your feet pad against the floorboards, making your way to the modest kitchen. “I was surprised to see you two chatting.”   “She said to say hi to my mom.” He follows after you, setting down the takeout. “Apparently, they were good friends or something.”   “Oh, I see.” You don’t push, but you shift around to face him, stopping Hoseok right in his tracks. “Are you alright? You’ve been quiet.”   “I’ve been thinking.”   “About?”   Jung Hoseok’s hair is slightly ruffled, not styled or curled into the common look he wears for work. He’s enveloped in a simple black hoodie and dark jeans, bringing you a sense of nostalgia as if no time has passed whatsoever. “That I don’t really….care anymore.”   You frown in confusion, not understanding where he’s getting at. “What?”    “I know it might be bad, but I don’t care what happened to us. I’ve just been thinking that this entire time, I’ve been hung up about the past and our history together and now I realize I don’t care.” There’s a pause, his brown irises gazing back into yours. “What I care about is now.”   You echo him, “Now?”   “What I should care about is the things I can remember. What I have is the power to control my future. And I want to spend that future with you.”   You scoff, stepping forward and encircling your arms around him. It’s odd to hug him like this, but it’s not necessarily foreign. “You’re such a sap, Hobi,” you murmur underneath your breath.   He smiles, leaning down until his chin is propped on your shoulder, returning your embrace and giving you a tight squeeze. “I know. I should’ve majored in literature, huh? With a concentration in poetry or something...”   “Imagine if the rest of the firm saw you now.”   “That would ruin my image,” he mumbles, shutting his eyes and enjoying the way you lean your head against him and how your fingers run through the black strands of his hair.   A wistful sigh leaves the seams of your lips, relaxing in his grasps. “Your image is already ruined.”   He pulls away with a slight pout. “What do you mean?”   “You’re a softie now.” You poke him, even when Hoseok sulks harder. “You’re not so scary anymore and they think you’re my best friend.”   “Me? Best friends with you?” The man grins, mouth pulled slightly in a heart shape as his eyes crinkle. He resists the urge to nuzzle into you. “I couldn’t think of a better position to be in.”   “Oh?” A single brow raises. “Want to go back to being friends then?”   “Excuse me?! Are you trying to friendzone me? I think it’s too late for that.”   “Nothing’s ever too late.” You giggle, placating him and slipping out from your best friend’s arms. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold, and I change my mind and you’re back to being my friend.”   He salutes you silently before opening the plastic bag, fiddling with the knot for a while. A smile pulls at your lips and while you didn’t say it out loud — you’re glad that he agrees with you.   Your past is filled with Jung Hoseok and so is your present. You hope your future will be too.

[toloveawarlord]

Day 5: Hideyoshi Devil Scenario “Office Punishment” Modern AU Smut

You can find all my other works here!

Warning: Smut Ahead.

              The lavish office building was normally closed at this hour, but this one evening held its doors open for company dinner and awards ceremony. The large conference room had been transformed into an elegant event space. All the important business partners, his co-workers, and even the president of the company were mingling around the room while the awards were being set in place on stage.

              Hideyoshi straightened his tie, finally finished with the pleasantries of greeting some of the other staff and their partners. In his distraction, he realized that Mai hadn’t returned to him. She excused herself to use the restroom long ago. It set him on edge.

              Bringing her along for the first time, despite his own hesitance, she had promised to behave perfectly. They would need to have a long discussion about the proper amount of time to be away from him at events. Scanning the crowd, a low growl left his lips at the sight of her.

              Mai had a drink in her hand, its contents nearly gone. Her lips were pulled up into a warm smile and she giggled at whatever Mitsuhide had said. Of all his co-workers to be with… She twisted her hips just slightly to the music. Her tongue slid slowly across her dry lips. All small taunts. She knew he would be watching her.

              It made him all the readier to punish her. The moment they returned home…

              Striding up to her, Hideyoshi’s eyes narrowed further. “Mai, what are you doing?” he asked, interrupting the conversation without a second thought.

              Her eyes flicked to him and then away, back to Mitsuhide. “We’re just chatting about the company, right, Mitsuhide? I wanted to know what kind of business this is, since you never talk about work.” She replied with an undertone of annoyance. It was true, that they rarely talked about his work, but it had been her doing, claiming it to be boring conversation.

              “Among other things. She is quite the interesting woman, Hideyoshi. You should have introduced us sooner,” Mitsuhide said, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He gave a wry smile, intent on riling him up further.

              “Come with me,” Hideyoshi bit out, grabbing her upper arm.

              Mai, much to his surprise, tugged herself free and turned her nose away. “But I don’t want to.”

              He blinked, unsure if he had correctly heard her. Her arms were folded, posture clearly pointing to some unkempt behavior that would surely need a thorough correcting. “Mai.” Her name left his lips as a pure command, and he watched it begin to shatter her resolve.

              But his name being called out drew his attention away. “Is this lovely woman with you the Mai you told us about?” Nobunaga asked, joining the small group. His name brand suit had been tailored excellently, both a quality fit and elegantly designed. The perfect fit for the president of his company.

              “Yes, sir. Mai, this is the president of the company, Nobunaga Oda,” Hideyoshi introduced, despite wanting to take her over his knee right this second.

              She perked right up, a radiant smile on her lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oda,” Mai said, bowing politely at him. “I’m very much enjoying this event! It’s extravagant and there are all kinds of people to meet!”

              “That’s very good to hear.” Nobunaga laughed and clapped Hideyoshi on the shoulder. “You can thank my vice president for being so diligent in his work. Is this your first time to the company building?”

              “Yes, it is. Mitsuhide offered to show me around later on tonight-”

              Hideyoshi openly stared at her with wide eyes, both appalled that it had been offered and at his wits end with her clearly having said yes.

              Mai continued, her gaze fixed on Nobunaga. “I don’t even know what his office looks like.”

              Like the snap of a taught wire, Hideyoshi took her arm again, smiling. “Why don’t I show you then? We have time before everything starts. If you’ll excuse us,” He gave a hasty excuse and strode off toward the elevators.

              The doors slid closed, leaving them both alone. He mashed the button for his floor more times than necessary. She opened her mouth to speak but one stern look shut her up. She bit back a smile, finding it harder to meet his gaze.

              Mai struggled to keep up with his pace as they walked down the empty corridor leading to his office at the very end of the hall.  Hideyoshi slid his keycard through the card reader by the door, and it beeped happily with a green light.

              The thud of the heavy door resounded throughout the whole room. “You wanted to see my office, didn’t you? Let’s start with the desk then, shall we? I think you’ll be spending quite some time getting acquainted with it,” Hideyoshi said, guiding her around it. He nudged the executive chair out of the way with his foot. Hideyoshi made her face the desk, standing right behind her.

              “Is that a promise?” Mai asked, casting a taunting smile over her shoulder at him.

              Hideyoshi let out a breathy but irritated chuckle. “No, but I can promise that your ass is going to be five different shades of red after that little performance downstairs,” he spoke into her ear. Pushing both hands on her against shoulders, he bent her over the edge.

              Her breath hitched in anticipation, giving away her true intentions. She had been aiming for this, wanting to be punished and pleasured in his office. If only she had just asked…

              “Give me your hands,” Hideyoshi instructed, freeing his tie from around his neck. Expertly tying the soft material tightly around her wrists, he then flipped the skirt of her dress up around her waist. Her lacy red panties left little to the imagination, sculpting her ass perfectly. “I believe you owe me something, Mai.”

              “And what would that be?” Mai retorted with feigned innocence.

              Hideyoshi stared at her, the bulge in his pants growing larger. She was practically begging for him to punish her. He lopped his index fingers through the band of her panties and drew them down to her knees. “I’ll be sure to make good on my promise, little girl.”

              From the top drawer of the desk, he drew out a thick wooden ruler. It had been bought for an occasion like this but had sat unused for months. Tracing the cool wood over her exposed ass, Hideyoshi raised an eyebrow at her. “Still nothing to say?”

               “I’m sorr- “

              Smack!

              Her half-hearted apology was swiftly cut off with a hard hit of ruler. A streak of red stained her left cheek. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” Hideyoshi began to trace softly again.

              Mai let out a soft whimper, beginning to realize the mistake that she had made. Her mouth opened again to repeat her words. “I’m so-”

              Smack!

              On her other cheek, a matching red mark darkened on her skin. There was no reprieve this time. The ruler popped against her ass, two, three, four times. Each bringing a cry of pain from her lips. Her legs trembled, breaths heavy. He might had felt a twinge of remorse for giving such hard strikes, if her cunt wasn’t so dripping wet.

              His phone buzzed in his jacket breast pocket. The ceremony was going to begin soon. He couldn’t go back with his cock throbbing in his pants, but he was far from finished with her. Stripping his suit jacket off and placing it carefully over the back of his chair, Hideyoshi unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves to roll the material up to his elbows.

              He stooped down to remove her panties all the way off her legs. Crumpling them up into a messy ball, he said, “Open.”

              Mai parted her dry lips, allowing him to push the material into her mouth.

              “You’re going to fix this for me, Mai,” Hideyoshi started, pushing three fingers into her soaking pussy. He had little time to loosen her up, so this would have to do. “And you’ll get nothing from it. You are not allowed to cum, do you understand?”

              Her head bobbed slightly.

              “I want an answer,” he demanded, bringing the ruler down on her already sore ass once again.

              Mai squeaked in pain, but managed to get out a muffled, “yes, sir.”

              “Good. Spread your legs further,” he instructed, pulling his fingers from her. He tugged the material of his pants down just enough to get his cock free. Without much of a warning, he thrust into her all the way to hilt, eliciting what he thought to be a moan from her.

              With both hands gripping tightly to her hips, Hideyoshi set a hard pace. The desk creaked under her, feeling each thrust thoroughly. She tightened around him, and he smacked her ass with his hand this time. “Don’t you dare. You won’t cum for a week if you do.”

              His threat hit her exactly as intended. Mai squeezed her eyes shut, and despite her muffled moans, she fought against her own release. The slapping of their skin filled the room, mingled with his own pants.

              Mai began to lose herself. Through her own panties, she began to beg. “Please. Fuck, please let me cum. Please!”

              “No.” His answer came swift, and she whined loudly.

              Hideyoshi knew that she was reaching her limit of self-control. Her entire body was tense, fighting against her own release. A few more thrusts and he pulled himself from her core. His hand pumped along his length, and a soft grunt left his lips. His cum painted over her ass, sliding down her thighs.

              Snatching a couple of tissues from the box, he wiped the remainder of her juices off him. Hideyoshi set to redressing himself. Buttoning the final piece of the jacket, he turned his attention back to her.

              Mai squirmed around, her eyes filled with her desire for release.

              Hideyoshi removed her panties from her mouth, not wishing for her to choke on them while he was gone.  “I’m far from finished punishing you, Mai, and I’ll be watching,” Hideyoshi said, directing her attention to the camera mounted up on the wall. For good measure, he tilted his phone in her direction, showing the live feed. He left her with one last command.

              “Be a good girl and wait there for me to return.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still slowly working my way through the Valentine’s Event! Thanks for sticking with me!

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Epilogue - Part 11)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Okay, so...I don’t know how many of you read this on ao3 and have noticed that we now have a chapter count of 31/35, but we do. That means after this that there’s only four more chapters until we’re finished with the epilogue that we all know is really a sequel. I mean, I’ve written an entire extra story, you guys, when it was supposed to be three parts. lol. 

So what this means is that starting in part 13, I’m still going to go in chronological order, but I’m going to skip around to show different scenes in the future because I do want to give this story nearly everything. So, yeah. We’re closing in on the end (not that it means I won’t write one shots when inspiration strikes), and I want to thank you guys for being the absolute best!

The chapter starts with a flashback :D

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Tag list:  @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera @emmas-storybook @superchocovian @in-spirational

There’s a clattering from downstairs, something that sounds like dishes falling into the sink, but he doesn’t think anything of it as he continues to read through the email his assistant sent him earlier with his schedule for next week and everything that he needs to know before his visit to Blackpool on Monday and then the dinner his father is hosting for his uncle Albert Wednesday night. That seems like an absolute nightmare, having to be stuck at a stuffy dinner with all of the family he dislikes, but Rebecca will be there since it’s her father’s birthday so he’ll have someone to talk to.

Maybe he should work on having a better relationship with is family. Sometimes he does, but he’s pissed at his father right now for having a stick up his ass over him going to a pub with some of his university friends just to catch up. He didn’t do anything wrong, never does, but he thinks his father still worries that they’re going to have another disaster period like they did when he was in university and there were lies spread about him spending the night with women.

He did with some of them. He’ll admit to that without question because it’s the truth, but not every article or interview is true. Not that his family has ever cared about that.

If only they knew that he’s spent pretty much the last three years in a pub talking to a woman who lets him come home with her nearly every night. If only they knew that he was sitting in an apartment over a pub while he was answering his emails and reviewing his work for the next week.

If only they knew that he was so in love with a woman with absolutely no aristocratic background, with a woman who isn’t even British, and with a woman who they would probably faint when hearing about all of the ways that she’s different than them.

But he knows. And he knows that all of the ways that she’s different, unique, and, well, those are some of the things he loves about Emma. She’s her own person, fiery, passionate, fiercely funny and kind, and he loves her and loves all of the little quirks she has that his family would think are practically blasphemy.

They’re a tad bit dramatic, but he just knows that they would be appalled with the way Emma walked out of the bathroom earlier with her hair unwashed for three days and with a t-shirt on…and absolutely nothing else as she brushed her teeth, toothpaste staining the shirt.

He doesn’t care. That’s normal. She’s normal. And yet somehow extraordinary.

Emma: Can you bring me a new button down?

Emma: I fucking spilled beer all over my white one.

And that’s exactly what that crashing sound must have been. He knew he should have gone down there, but it’s only eight, the crowd still new and sober, and he was choosing to stay upstairs for privacy. But he’s not going to let Emma work in a beer-soaked shirt, so he grabs his cap, pulling it down low over his head as he adjusts his Henley and sweatpants, making himself as unassuming as possible before finding Emma a navy button down shirt, one that she can spill things on, and making his way downstairs.

The pub is relatively crowded tonight, and he tries to stay in the shadows until he’s at the bar on his stool in the corner, the one that keeps him out of view from everyone. He’s found that people don’t recognize him because who in their right mind would expect to see him in a small pub wearing sweatpants and run-down sneakers on a Thursday night. It doesn’t mean that he’s not wary of it, though, that he doesn’t take precautions, and he always feels a little nervous until it’s near midnight and only the intoxicated are still milling around.

“Thanks,” Emma huffs when she takes the shirt out of his hands, disappearing back into the kitchen and coming back out a moment later with the new shirt on and her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, blonde strands falling everywhere.

She’s obviously been having a night, and he sits quietly in his corner, messing with his phone all while he allows her time to work through her anger and frustration. At least she’s not working alone tonight. Will is working in the kitchen, so she’s not having to do it all. Sometimes there are nights like that, and it’s ridiculous. When the pub isn’t busy, it’s fine and Emma can handle it. When it is, she says it’s like hell. Sometimes he’ll help, but he can really only work in the kitchen.

He loves cooking, but using the pub’s fryer is not his favorite thing in the world. He’s also not entirely sure that Emma trusts him in there.

“Hey,” she sighs, coming over to him nearly an hour after he first came down. He looks up at her and can see the slight bags under her eyes, see the stress lines on her face that a twenty-four-year-old woman shouldn’t have, and he reaches over the bar to grab her hand and kiss her knuckles right over the sapphire ring that she wears now. “Do you want something to drink, babe?”

“Finally some service. I’ve been waiting for a long time.”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy,” she snaps, her voice on edge.

“Love, I was joking. I know that you’re busy.”

Something softens in her face, the lines going away for a moment before she rests her arms on the bar top and then rests her forehead on the wood, mumbling something he can’t understand.

“Can you repeat that?” he asks softly, reaching over and gently squeezing her shoulder.

She pokes her head up, a brow raising with her eye. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. There have just been a lot of assholes in here tonight.”

“I’m sorry too,” he tells her, moving his hand to tuck her loose hair behind her ear so he can see her eyes more clearly. “I am completely and totally willing to listen to you talking about all of the assholes now or when your shift finishes.”

“You know that my shift finishes at two this morning?”

He smiles. “I’m willing to wait.”

And he does wait. He’s used to waiting on Emma, on working around her job and her life even when his obligations keep him away from her and away from home. Mostly, though, he’s used to waiting in this pub on this stool or in the booth over in the corner that’s the reason they met. That’s what he does now, watching the television in the center of the room and talking to Emma whenever she gets the chance to come over and talk to him. He can see the tenseness in her shoulders lifting the slightest bit, her lips nearly forming a smile, and it’s like getting to watch her let go of her stress and annoyances as the hours pass.

Eventually there’s no one left in the pub but he, Emma, and Will back in the kitchen who’s likely snacking away like he usually does, and because there’s still an hour until closing, they only start cleaning up a little bit, fully expecting someone to walk through the door with every chair he puts up on a table so that Emma can sweep.

He may not be able to do much, but he can at least help to clean up to make the night a little bit easier.

“It’s so bloody quiet in here,” Will yells, peeking his head out from the kitchen with a bag of crisps in his hand. “Ems, can I turn the blasted radio up?”

“Yeah, just don’t wake up my parents.”

“I don’t want to get fired, so that’s definitely not happening.”

“Good,” she laughs, stopping her sweeping to stretch her arms above her head, her shirt lifting with the movement to show the soft skin that he’s so accustomed to. The speaker system groans a bit more to life, some static emanating from it before the music plays more clearly. He’s never heard the song before, and Emma looks at him to roll her eyes. “He’s into folk music. I don’t understand it, but it’s just what he does.”

“He’s an odd bloke.”

“Yeah, but he makes work fun sometimes.”

Emma continues to sweep while he stacks the chairs. He can hear Will singing from the kitchen, his voice almost louder than the speakers, and a lightness begins to fill him that he hasn’t felt all day. He wonders if Emma can feel it too.

An idea sparks in his mind, and he walks over to Emma, taking the broom out of her hands and placing it on a table before he grabs her hands, twining his fingers with hers and feeling the heat of her skin. “Come on,” he urges, pulling her to the center of the room where there’s more floor space.

“Baby,” she whines, rolling her eyes and dragging her feet even as she walks with him, “what are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.” He dips his head and brushes his lips across her left cheek and then again on her right cheek. “There’s music playing over the speakers, we have nothing else to do but wait for closing, and I just want to dance with you. So come on, my love, let’s dance.”

Emma rolls her eyes again, but he sees her lips press together before she smiles. And God, it’s just as beautiful as it’s always been. He’s such a goner for her that it’s ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. “Fine.” “Ah, see, my girlfriend loves to dance with me. Can’t you see the enthusiasm?”

“You’re just asking for me to complain about you too.”

“Aye,” he confirms, squeezing her hands while he tugs her closer, “I am. I don’t mind it. You yelling at me kind of turns me on sometimes.”

“Kinky.”

“You know it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Will whines from the kitchen, his head turning to look at him, “you two are disgusting.”

“Go back to eating and singing your song,” Emma laughs, the smile on her face brighter than it has been all day when she looks back at him. “Do you think we could just send him home? Then we could yell at each other and fuck on the bar and break all kinds of health codes?”

“Oh, I like that plan,” he chuckles, a shiver running down his spine just thinking of that while Emma’s body sways against his.

“I do too.”

He moves her around the room as the music plays over the speakers.  He thinks there’s now fiddles or a banjo or something playing, but right now his only focus is on spinning Emma around in circles to keep that smile on her face. It’s been a long day, and they’re both tired as the clock ticks closer to two in the morning. But he wants to do this. He loves doing this.

“You know, it’s not fucking on an uncomfortable surface, but I do love dancing with you, even if I’m not sure what kind of dance this is.”

Emma tilts her head at him, her eyes slanting as she looks up into his eyes, and before he can say something else, she’s releasing his hands so that she can wrap her arms around his neck and press herself completely into him while she rests her head on his shoulder and sways with him. His hands find her waist, fingers digging into the soft skin that peeks up above her jeans, and he holds onto her more tightly.

He just holds onto his love, feeling every breath she takes against his chest, as the music plays slowly in the background, the song changing to something softer. All he cares about is the way that Emma feels against him, even as she steps on his toes, and the way that they are swaying back and forth in the pub like they don’t have any care in the world.

And maybe they don’t right now.

He presses his lips against the crown of her head while his hands move from her hips to up her back, rubbing up and down as much as he can to soothe her, to silently let her know he much he loves her.

“You live in a palace, mate,” Will yells, but Killian doesn’t even bother to look over at him. “Can’t you get a bloody room?”

Of all of the people in the world who know about his relationship with Emma, he can’t believe that Will Scarlet is one of them.

“So do you think the peanut gallery is right?” Emma asks, continuing to sway with him.

“About what?”

“Us going to get a room? You know, I have a very good bedroom upstairs. I believe you’ve spent a lot of time in it.”

“I thought we’d planned on the bar top.”

“Good point.”

“Bloody hell,” Will mutters, turning the volume on the stereo up while Killian playfully spins Emma around, her hair falling out of her bun with the movement.

-/-

-/-

“Okay, okay, okay,” Emma laughs next to him, her heels on the floor with her feet tucked up underneath her. “I’m so glad that your mom finally sent me all of these pictures because these are absolutely brilliant.”

“I am not glad that mum sent you those pictures.”

“Oh come on, babe,” she giggles, covering her mouth while still flipping pages in the photo album. He’s never going to live any of this down. Emma’s likely going to have all of the photos framed instead of keeping them on their shelf of photo albums in her study that’s pretty much where Emma keeps all of her junk, though he has noticed several new frames going up around the apartment lately.  There’s a wedding photo hanging on the wall next to the stairwell with two portraits of Andy next to them, and he has absolutely no idea when she ordered all of those canvases. “You look adorable in this oversized white dress that we just forced our son to wear and to take pictures in for the entire world to see for the rest of his life.” “I absolutely despise that outfit, and I wanted to fight tooth and nail for Andy to just wear a normal outfit to his Christening. One day he’s going to absolutely hate us for this.” “Oh come on,” she laughs, running her palm over a picture of him in the book while he adjusts Andy in his arms, his little lad snoozing away, “there are plenty of other things he’s going to hate us for. I think this may be near the bottom of the list, even if you seem to be holding a grudge over it.” “Because I look ridiculous,” he sighs, propping his feet up on the ottoman and stretching his legs out as much as he can. “And one day Andy’s wife might be making fun of him in the same way that you are making fun of me right now.”

“You were a baby. He looks like you here. It still freaks me out.”

“Too much handsome at once?”

“Sure.” Emma closes the photo album and places it on the couch before getting up and smoothing out her dress. “I’m going to go eat some of the leftovers from earlier. You want something?”

“I want to know when in the world you managed to swipe leftovers? How did you even carry them without me noticing?”

“I asked Isabelle to figure out a way to pack me things. It was some good food, and I wanted to save some for later. And because Isabelle is a saint, she got some for me.” He shakes his head back and forth while his lips press together and tick up into a smile, his disbelief over his wife stealing food from Andrew’s Christening absolutely amusing to him. And not at all surprising. “No, darling, I don’t want anything. You can eat all of your leftovers.” “You are a saint.” She leans down and kisses his brow before walking out of the room, giving her hips a little sway as she moves.

Normally after an event she’s exhausted, especially since she hasn’t been working lately, and as nervous as she was going to Andy’s Christening, as nervous as she was having to be out in the public eye again for the first time since she gave birth, she’s in a surprisingly good mood. Maybe she’s simply relieved that nothing went wrong and that they didn’t get any rude comments from the family they don’t like who were at the church today, or maybe she’s relieved that no one yelled out any nasty comments as they were walking inside. He’s gotten quite a few himself since they didn’t introduce Andy to the world, and while he doesn’t regret the choice he and Emma made, he’s not exactly thrilled to have to deal with all of the backlash. He knew it would happen, but damn.

The fact that he hasn’t popped off on a journalist or photographer is pretty much a miracle for the way that he sometimes has to dig his nails into his palms so harshly that he has cut skin. Emma should be able to make her own choices regarding their child and his privacy, and as much as he has respected more traditions than most people realize, he believes that he and Emma deserve the right to say fuck it and do what they want here.

It’s not like the public will literally never see their child. They already have an official photo of Emma holding him in the nursery and all of the photos from today, so if all of the people harassing his wife would like to calm down and give them some privacy, he’d really appreciate that.

They get so much love and so much kindness from people that he hates focusing on the negativity, so most of the time he tries not to. As does Emma. They focus on the kind words, on the flowers given, on the letters filled with kind words and sweet sentiments that they both spend time responding to. Just last week Emma received a letter from a young woman telling her how much it means to her to see Emma working to change lives in her new patronages supporting women that she’s taken up even while on her maternity leave. He believes the woman actually called Emma a badass for being someone who protects those who she loves as well as protecting those who she doesn’t know and for simply being a mom and so obviously caring for her child.

Emma had sobbed when she read it, her tears staining the page, and it’s what got him to read the letter as well. He knows that Emma wrote a letter back, something more than the perfunctory one they have their team send out, and he also knows that she has that letter in a folder where she keeps all of her favorites.

There’s so much good in the world, and he simply has to remember where to find it.

Andy makes some kind of noise next to him, and Killian slowly turns his head to look at his son who is still sleeping despite his noise. This…this is the good in the world. His sweet child who has stolen his heart.  He’s two months old now, growing like a weed really, and Killian can’t quite believe that it’s been this long. Each day is slow, inching itself along sluggishly, but it seems that when he looks back on it, it’s been the fastest two months of his life.

Likely the two most terrifying too. Having a human being partly rely on him for life is, well, it really puts things into perspective about what’s important and what’s not. He can’t even imagine what it’s like from Emma’s perspective when she literally brought him life and keeps him alive. He’s spent a lot of time focusing on things that don’t matter, but his family matters.

Most definitely.  

Emma comes back into the room with her plate of food and two travel mugs of what he assumes is tea, especially from the smell, and places it all on the table on her side of the couch.

“I’m going to go put him upstairs, love,” he tells her, slowly getting up from the couch and cradling Andy’s head with his hand. “I think my arms may get stuck in this position if I keep holding him.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, covering her mouth as she’s chewing one of the biscuits she brought in here. “I’ll just be here.”

He nods before carefully walking out of the room and down the hall until he’s heading up the stairs and to the nursery. They stopped keeping him in their room last week when he started sleeping more consistently throughout the night, and while Killian does miss having him so close, he’s only one room over. Plus, he does quite like the bit of extra sleep and the fact that he doesn’t have to whisper when talking to Emma.

And Emma really likes getting to sit in the glider in the nursery, which hasn’t fallen apart. David may have helped him put it together, but he likes to think that he’s become quite adept at putting together furniture.

Doesn’t mean he wasn’t terrified that something would happen to the crib while Andy was in it on the first night.

After he successfully puts Andy down, the lad not waking from his slumber, he walks over to his room and changes out of his suit and into his lounge pants and a sweatshirt, grabbing some clothes for Emma in case she wants to change out of her dress without coming upstairs. She’ll likely want something else to wear, but he figures it can’t hurt to ask her.

When he gets back into the living room, Emma’s finished off her plate of food and is drinking her tea while texting on her phone.

“Is he still asleep?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting down at the other end and picking up his mug from where she moved it to his table, warmth still permeating from it. “Out like a light. He had a long day. Lots of elderly women pinching his cheeks.” “I don’t understand why people do that. It honestly freaks me out a little bit. Like, what comes over human beings and makes them want to pinch a baby’s face? It’s like some kind of…creepy phenomenon you’d see in an apocalyptic movie.” “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I mess with the fat on his legs.” “Well that’s different.”

“How?”

She shrugs. “It just is. He’s our baby. By the way, Ruby and Graham are going to get married in August in Fiji. She texted me about it. They don’t have the exact date or place, but they figured we should know so we can make sure that we’re not supposed to be in Scotland with our family. Or so we can take that week off. A vacation from our vacation so to speak.”

“We are, but we can go at any date. I’m sure Ruby will want Abigail there anyway, so we’ll probably all schedule the time off. Unless they really are only doing the few of us.” “I think they are. I mean, I really am thinking ten to twenty people, which will be kind of awesome. Plus, you know, the beach.”

“That is a bonus. Though I do hope that Ruby and Graham’s suite is far from ours.” “Stop,” she whines, tossing a throw pillow that hits him in the shoulder while he moves his brows across his forehead. “There’s a difference between talking about sex with Ruby and actually having to hear her having it. That’s just…I don’t want that.”

“Exactly my point. We’ll have to make sure we stay in separate hotels or that we put Graham’s parents next to them.”

“Poor Ella and George. They will literally never be the same.”

He leans back against the couch, propping his feet up on the ottoman and crossing his legs at his ankles before stretching his hands behind his head. “You know, it’s a bit weird to think about the fact that we’ll only have been married for three more years than them when they literally met at our wedding while we’ve been together for nine years.”

“Not really. I mean, yeah, a little, but their lives aren’t quite as complicated as ours were, as ours are. We could have literally never flown to an island and gotten married with twenty people there. Hell, we can barely leave the house now.”

“Yeah, I know.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at Emma as she twists her curled hair around her fingers. “I liked our wedding. It was ridiculous sometimes, but I liked it. I liked the tradition of it for once. I also liked the fact that we got to have what we actually wanted at the end of the night.”

She stretches her legs out until she’s poking her toes at his thigh, obviously waiting for him to grab it and rest it in his lap. “Our wedding was perfect, Killian. I thought I was going to throw up even with how calm I convinced everyone I was, but it was perfect. There’s not a thing I would change, not even messing my vows up in front of all of those people.”

“That was a very on point thing for you to do.”

“Exactly. And now we can just live our lives, you know? Also, can we talk about how haven’t even been married two and a half years, and you knocked me up on accident? Good job there.” “Right then,” he teases, pinching her foot, “I’m just going to tell Andrew up there that he was a surprise baby who wasn’t supposed to be conceived for another few months.”

“I think he’ll take the news well.” She sits up and leans over the couch to brush her lips against his cheek. “Do you want to watch a movie or clean the house?”

“It’s like you’re asking me to choose between two truly wonderful things.”

“You are so weird.”

“That I am, my darling.” He moves her feet off of his lap, getting up from his seat. “Why don’t you change into those clothes, and we’ll clean?”

“I was really thinking a movie, though,” she whines, throwing her head back against the cushions. “I was kidding about the cleaning.”

“You should know to have never have offered it if you didn’t want to do it.” “And you should know that I never want to clean.”

He bends down over her, quickly brushing his lips over hers. “Let’s just work in the kitchen and in here, and then we can watch a movie when Andy wakes up. You can pick it out and everything.” She rolls her eyes. “How kind of you. It’s not like we could just watch the movie I pick out now and then not clean.”

He winks before moving away and off into the kitchen. They really don’t have much to do, but he likes to deep clean the kitchen every few weeks. He knows that Emma thinks he’s crazy, that if there’s anything about him that she thinks is absolutely mad, it’s his cleanliness and the way he doesn’t like dishes piling up. As he sets music up on his phone, connecting it to the speakers in the kitchen, he idly wonders how many fights they’ve gotten into over the years simply because Emma’s left dishes in the sink or in the living room or because he’s snapped at her for not cleaning up when she says that she’s going to in a few minutes.

It’s insane, but it happens when two personalities live in one house. He loves her more than anything (well, Andy is right up there), but sometimes she irritates the hell out of him. And sometimes he pisses her off. It’s life.

He starts with the fridge, taking out anything that’s old or needs to be replaced so he can more easily wipe the shelves down. They’ve really got to order actual groceries at some point, more than getting the bare minimum, but they’ve definitely been slacking at things lately. He knows that all he has to do is ask and Isabelle or Thomas will get someone to do it all for him, but he’s not the biggest fan of that. It’s a weird hang up he has, and while sometimes he does succumb to asking for extra help when life gets too busy or he’s going to be traveling, he does like to do things himself.

Besides, no one is going to organize the refrigerator in the exact way that he likes it.

Maybe he does have some issues.

Emma finally joins him twenty minutes later. She’s changed into the clothes he brought down for her, but she also must have gone upstairs and removed her makeup and brushed through the curls in her hair. He hears her unloading the dishwasher, glass clanking against glass as she puts them away in the cabinets, and he smiles a bit to himself knowing that she’s likely grumbling the entire time. He’s got no bloody clue how she worked in a pub for so long when she hates doing the dishes.

She likely hates them because of her days in the pub. It’s got to be disgusting to clean the plates and glasses of people you don’t know. He helped out a few times, but it was mostly just wiping down glasses. He let Emma and her parents do the nastiest cleaning.

It’s a miracle that were all happy to keep him around.

After he’s finished with the refrigerator and freezer, he starts wiping down the counters where he made a mess. He finds this soothing, relaxing, and the music playing overhead definitely helps the time pass. Eventually Emma moves to work next to him, bumping her hip into his and looking up at him with a cheeky smile on her face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she hums, her tune matching up with the song that’s playing over the speakers while she scrubs at a stain on the marble.

He doesn’t think anything else of it until her humming picks up its pace, her hips moving a bit as she cleans, and without thinking he tosses his cloth down and walks over to Emma, grabbing onto her wrists until she drops her wipe onto the counter.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he answers, mimicking her words from earlier as he slowly twines their fingers together, smiling down at her and the way that she’s got her brows raised in confusion. “I was simply wondering if I could have this dance, milady?”

“Killian,” she chuckles, her fingers going a bit lax in his until he’s tightening them and pulling her back toward the open space in the kitchen, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I want to dance with my wife,” he sighs, spinning her around until she’s pulled back into him, their chests pressed together while their feet move from side to side. She’s being hesitant, but she’s moving with him.

“You want to dance with me to Mamma Mia?”

“Aye,” he laughs, pulling her closer and listening to her giggle as he trails his lips across her jaw, her perfume invading his senses as he moves down her neck, “I do because it has been far too long since I’ve gotten to dance with you. Besides,” he growls, biting the lobe of her ear and reveling in the whine she emits, “what better song is there to dance to with my hot baby mama?”

She throws her head back, her hair falling down her back while she laughs. God, he loves her laugh. He loves making her laugh. “Okay. You’ve been spending too much time with Ruby, but okay. Show me your moves.”

He winks. “I plan to.”

They continue to move around the kitchen, their feet expertly (or inexpertly really) moving as the sway together and then sway apart. He spins and dips Emma far too many times, simply because she laughs every damn time, and by the time three songs have passed, he’s out of breath from his laughter and holding Emma closely against him while they simply sway, hearts beating against each other in a comforting rhythm.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into her chest, her words muffled until she leans her head back the slightest bit to look up at him. “Thank you for making me dance even if I feel ridiculous sometimes when we do that.”

“Thanks for feeling ridiculous with me.”

“Always. I’m just surprised you allowed us to stop doing your precious cleaning to dance. It didn’t mess up your mojo?”

“Hush,” he laughs, leaning down and nipping at her ear, enjoying the noise that she makes yet again. It’s something between a moan and a sigh this time, and he absolutely loves it. It’s been a damn good day today. “I can get back into my mojo at any time.”

She raises her brow, something she’s gotten a lot better at recently. “Oh really?”

“Most definitely. I can always get back into my mojo.”

“So if I were to say that I’m feeling like going upstairs and having sex, you think you could get your mojo back even though it’s been over two months and I was like a human whale the last time?”

“Please, love. I’ve never lost that mojo.” He raises his brow, just like Emma did, and studies her face, moving his hands from her hips until he’s cupping her cheeks and running his thumbs under her eyes, looking for the sureness in her emerald eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready? I don’t mind waiting. I promise.”

She nods her head up and down, her eyes alight with amusement. “I mean, what’s the saying? Gotta get back up on the horse and ride?”

He gasps, adding as much false shock as possible simply to annoy her because he knows how annoyed she gets with the joke he’s about to make. “Emma, you are someone’s mother. How dare you say make a dirty joke like that.”

“Well, I’m only someone’s mother because I know how to ride. Just saying.” She backs up from him, trailing her hands down his arms until she’s holding his hands, tugging at him with her lips pressed together in a smile. “I’m going to ignore the sexism in your joke because I know you were making fun of it, and ask you to take me away, cowboy.”

“Good God, love. You’ve got to stop with those jokes.”

“Never.” She laughs before tugging at his arms again, simply the brightest smile on her face that amuses him even with how turned on he is, and just as he’s taking a step, there’s a cry emitting from the baby monitor. “Seriously,” Emma whines, looking over at the device before looking up at him, her bottom lip jutting out as she walks back toward him and buries her face in his chest. “We just got cock blocked by our son.”

“I know,” he sighs, rubbing his hand up and down her back before kissing the crown of her hair, trying to tamper down the disappoint that’s running through him. “I know, darling. We’ll try again later.”

“I feel like he’s really not appreciative of the fact that you and I have needs, and he’s only alive because we used to have time to sleep together.”

“Maybe he’s simply trying to stay an only child.”

“I think he just wants to eat.”

“Preposterous.”

-/-

He looks down at his phone and sees that it’s now December first, November having passed in a flurry of chilled weather and rain that he hopes won’t continue throughout December. He loves this time of the year, loves the upcoming holidays and the way things seem to be brighter the closer they get to Christmas, but for some reason he’s shocked to see that it actually is December. Maybe it’s that time is always getting away from him or because it’s three in the morning and he’s just woken up out of a heavy sleep a bit bleary eyed. He should not be awake right now.

Slowly, he turns to his side and looks to see that the other side of the bed is empty, the comforter thrown off where Emma has obviously gotten up. Usually he feels her move or hears the monitor when Andy cries, but he must have slept through it all.

With a bit of hesitance, he gets out of bed, picking his boxers up off the ground and sliding them up his legs as he makes his way out of the bedroom and the few feet down the hall to the nursery. It’s oddly quiet, simply the sound of a noise machine that he absolutely hates but Emma insists on because she claims that it’s soothing, and he sees Emma half asleep holding Andy as she sits in the glider moving back and forth in a consistent motion. She hasn’t even bothered to get dressed, just sitting in her robe that she must have found on the bedroom floor even in the darkness of their room, but he doesn’t blame her. He’s done the same thing even if he can feel the chill from outside in his bones.

“Hey,” he whispers, walking over to them and squatting down next to the chair, placing his hand on her knee, “how long have you been in here?”

“About thirty minutes,” she yawns, her voice barely audible. “I thought about coming back to bed, but I got really comfortable right here. Why are you up?”

“Force of habit.” He slowly takes Andy out of Emma’s arms, settling him in his arms and walking him back over to his crib so that he can go back to sleep without constantly being moved. “Come back to bed, love.”

“You only ask because you want to get lucky again.”

“I ask because if you get a crick in your neck from falling asleep in that chair, not a person in this house is going to be happy tomorrow.”

“I don’t like that you’re being reasonable here.”

“I know.”

He takes her hands in his, pulling her up out of the chair until she’s standing. She ties her robe over her waist and follows him back to their bedroom. He’s pretty sure she’s asleep the moment her head hits the pillow, and he follows not long after. It’s a pattern they’ve become accustomed to, though they don’t have to wake up as often as they did at first, but he does crave the nights where he once got a full night of sleep. He wouldn’t trade his son for anything in the world, but he would be okay with a full night of sleep more consistently.

He wakes up not three hours later, Emma still fast asleep beside him, and he gets out of bed as quietly as he can so he can let Indy go outside before she starts barking and wakes everyone up. She’s pretty good about not needing to go out during the night, but sometimes she’ll scratch at the floor next to his side of the bed and bark to let him know that she needs to go outside.

“Morning, girl,” he says to her when he finds her sleeping in the hallway between their room and the nursery. “You need to go outside?”

She immediately scrambles up, nails clicking against the wood, and runs downstairs even in her sleepy state. He has to catch up with her by the back garden door, opening it and feeling the gust of cold wind blow into the house. When they move after their house in Bucklebury is built, he’s definitely got to install some kind of dog door for her. Then again, they’ll have a toddler, and he can already see Andy somehow escaping through a dog door and wandering to the pool.

Okay, so maybe the door isn’t the best idea.

Maybe he’ll just have to wear more than his boxers to let the dog out in December.

After a few more minutes, he opens up the door and whistles, Indy running back over from where she was sniffing around a bench and moving trotting inside. He reaches down to scratch behind her ear, promising that he’ll take her out on a run with him later this afternoon if it doesn’t rain.

He’s sure that it’s going to rain, and while that should give him an excuse not to exercise, he could simply use the treadmill they have. He’s been working out with Emma the past week or so per her request to make sure she starts running again, but he’s kind of feeling like today might be a day for them to simply relax and eat all of the holiday food that’s been filling their fridge over the past few days even if they still have weeks until Christmas.

That’s probably an exact reason for them to go running in the gym.

The pastries are calling his name, though.

Yeah, they’ll definitely have to work out, and then they can go to David and Mary Margaret’s house for supper since they have the day off from the pub and offered to host them so they could have a meal somewhere other than their home. Really, he knows that it’s because David and Mary Margaret want to see their grandchild, but it’s a nice offer nonetheless.

“Come on,” he sighs, patting his thigh until she moves with him as he makes his way back upstairs. Indy takes her spot in the hallway where she’s preferred being lately, and he checks the nursery, making sure that everything is okay in there before moving back to his bedroom where Emma is awake but still burrowed under all of the blankets with only her eyes poking out. “You cold, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she mumbles, her words muffled under the material. “Turn up the heat. I’m dying.”

“As you wish.” He fake bows before taking the few steps over to the thermostat and hitting it up a few degrees. It really is cold, and while Andy is dressed warmly, they can’t have him be chilled. Before he freezes, he heads to the closet and puts on pajamas and a sweater, grabbing Emma her favorite cardigan that’s on the center table, and tossing it as her when he comes back into the bedroom. She practically scrambles to get it on, wrapping the white fuzz around her waist as she sits up a little more in bed, pulling her hair into a bun on top of her head with one hand while the other reaches over for her glasses, sliding them onto her nose.

“Where’d you go?”

“Took the dog out, checked on our spawn, and now I’m crawling back into bed with my lovely wife because it’s Saturday and we have nothing to do.”

“We’re going to see my parents later.”

“Already thought about that,” he promises, settling himself down onto the mattress and pulling the covers up until he’s situated. “Damn. I should have gotten coffee before I came back upstairs.”

“Why would you even say that? I didn’t need caffeine until now.”

“Later,” he sighs, sliding down a bit and stretching out his arm until it hits her stomach, his hands fidgeting until her has them around her side so he can tug her closer. “We’ll get coffee later because right now I need you to warm me up.”

“So needy.”

“So cold.”

It’s a lazy day if he’s ever had one, even with all of the time and energy it takes to make sure that Andy is cared for and loved especially now that he’s more active than sleepy and needs to be entertained. He wails a lot, which is always pretty painful, but he’ll usually fall asleep right afterwards if he’s not hungry. It’s a lot, and he knows that even though he and Emma are both getting more sleep than they have been, they’re both thankful to have David and Mary Margaret watch Andy for a little while.

And he knows that they don’t mind because when they pull up to the house, parking in the private garage, Mary Margaret doesn’t even let them get out of the car before she’s entering the garage with a smile on her face, bypassing he and Emma to move to the backseat to get Andy out of his car seat.

“Nice to see you too, Mom,” Emma huffs as she gets out from the passenger side of the car, grabbing the diaper bag off the floorboard.

“Oh, hon, I’m going to say hi to you in a minute. I want to see my grandbaby.”

“But not her own baby,” Emma teases, rolling her eyes at him while he walks up the steps and into the house. “Hi, Dad,” she sighs when David comes into view while he slabs butter over bread in in the kitchen.

“Hi, darling,” David greets, coming over to them and hugging Emma before moving over to him and giving him a pat on the back. “Hey, Killian. How are you guys?”

“Good. It smells fantastic in here. Pasta?”

“Yeah. It’s easy, and I know you both like it. Where’s my grandchild?”

“Mom has him. I’m glad you at least said hi to us first. She just skipped right over us.”

“Sounds like her,” David laughs, continuing to fix the bread before popping it in the oven.

“Are you guys talking about me?” Mary Margaret coos as she walks into the room, her voice high-pitched like it is when she talks to Andy. “I think they’re talking about me baby boy. I think they’re talking about your Mimi.”

“Because you’re apparently ignoring your daughter in favor of Andy.” Mary Margaret laughs before fully walking into kitchen. “I’m sorry, hon,” she sighs, squeezing Emma’s arm and kissing her cheek. “How are you today? I feel like we haven’t talked all week.” “We talked this afternoon.”

“Did we?”

“Most definitely. How late were you two at the pub last night?”

“Late,” David answers, a yawn catching him. “We weren’t planning on going, but Will called out sick.”

“Is he okay?” Killian asks, moving to sit down at the kitchen table. Emma follows him, pulling out the cushioned chair next to him and grabbing an apple from the bowl even if they’re about to ear.

“Just a cold.”

“Please, David,” Mary Margaret scoffs, her eyes never leaving Andy’s as he watches his grandmother talk, “the man was going out on a date tonight with his girlfriend. I heard him on the phone.” “You knew he was faking it, and you let him take off?”

She shrugs, her lips pressing into a smile that reminds him so much of Emma that it takes him back a bit every time he notices the resemblance. Andy’s face is beginning to look a bit more like Emma, which means he’s looking more like Mary Margaret. He’s got all of Killian’s coloring and his dimples according to Emma, but he sees his wife. He guesses they all see different things in him.

“Young love,” she answers, handing Andy to David who kisses the top of his head. “And he deserves it. I’m surprised he still works for us after all this time.” “Yeah, and you guys don’t exactly pay well.”

He barks out a laugh at Emma’s comment, twisting his head to the side to look at the smug smile on her face.

“Would you look at that Andrew, your mommy thinks that just because she doesn’t live with us now she can complain about the pay when we gave her housing and work for years? And we allowed your daddy to stay around too? So ungrateful.”

“You guys are such kind parents.”

“That we are.”

Dinner is wonderful, and it’s nice to get to spend some more time with the Nolans. Sometimes, much like their daughter, they can grate on his nerves with their intrusive tendencies and lack of boundaries, but it’s like falling back into a sense of comfort whenever he’s around them. Plus, it’s quite beautiful to see how much they love their grandchild and how happy they are to have their family grow.

He stretches his arm and moves it to rest it on the back of Emma’s chair, his fingertips fiddling with the tips of her ponytail until he leans over and brushes his lips over her temple, lingering for a second too long while he takes it all in.

[sometimeinjoon]

Slip

3.5k

01 - 02 - 03

Once a year, on your birthday, a veil between worlds open.

This year, they tell you they need to take you back soon, even though you were clear on that being four years into the future, still.

Your guardian steps out and tells you he’s staying a few nights so he could tutor you back into practicing magic like you did in the other dimension, but all you’re really doing is making out.

The people in the portal always just hand over gifts. Lots of them. Your adoptive parents, currently posing as humans, explained the situation at hand quite well: you were a queen-to-be being threatened by multiple enemies, so your people shove you into a different dimension until you’re strong enough to come back and rule. Oh, and kill all those motherfuckers once you return, too.

The chimera were human as human can be, minus the part where they practiced magic. The people in this dimension missed out on it, so really, this is the most ideal place to put their princess. Nothing can harm you here, for nothing is powerful enough. And if by any chance something does pose harm, they’re ready to fight for you.

The old guest room in your mother’s house is where the portal appears, and today, as much as you’d want to spend all your birthday festivities there, you’re due to stay with your dad during the weekends. Your chimera parents are laughably “divorced”, and they’re adamant about following that order since it would be a violation of royal command, apparently. Their files were specific and were set straight when they were briefed into pretending to be your parents. So here you are, all with fake last names, two different houses a 20 minute drive apart, them being divorced, all that. You’re supposed to be home schooled, but you’re really just home. Watching, reading, doing whatever it is you wanted. They said that when the time came, that time being your 30th birthday, you would be given a crash course training, and you’re going to be able to get back all your abilities from that one time thing. So really, that means you’re going to be dilly-dallying about until that time rolled around.

You excitedly open the bedroom door into the new dimension, all set up and ready for your party. It was a short and sweet celebration, but it sufficed. You saw familiar faces, and all of them treated you no less than the royalty that you are. Lots of food, lots of presents, lots of happy birthday, we wish you the best your highness. Once the whole thing was over it had only been 2 hours, and back into this world you go. It was precaution, so that you’re never in their realm long enough for the enemy to catch on.

As you bid farewell to everyone, your guardian accompanies you in crossing over, like he always does. He carries most of your gifts and books and this time, it’s no different, except, no gifts were around you when you left as they’ve apparently been poofed up into your dad’s house.

“The gifts are different this year,” he smiles. You thought back on the previous years, when they would present you with an iPhone that’s a generation advanced from the one currently being released, and a bunch of other luxurious material things.

“Different, like they’re actually valuables this time?” you jokingly ask, and he nods.

“Yes, since we’re taking you back soon, your training must begin soon as well,” he answers, and you fall silent. There must have been some sort of mistake, because you’ve turned 26 today, and they’re taking you back four years early? As fun as it was to be literally just lazing around, it scared you that you were supposed to learn everything you needed in a short period of time. What if you didn’t? What if you couldn’t kill the evil motherfuckers? What if you fail the people that have treated you like the savior they were expecting you to be?

Namjoon explains that you’ve got nothing to worry about, and that there was no mistake. It’s just that humans require vague time estimates, and 30 is the value they gave. He says you’re ready, and that he will be your personal trainer and guide throughout the entire thing.

As soon as you get to your dad’s house he smiles at Namjoon and sends you off into your room like he’s been here a million times before. Any normal father would have chased Namjoon down the block with a cleaver before he’s allowed a step up the stairs, much less into your room, but your father is not a normal father. He isn’t your father at all, but you’ve grown to love him to be.

Namjoon closes the door behind him once you get upstairs, the gifts already poised and arranged around waiting for you in your bedroom that’s apparently been renovated. Then, you notice the usual gifts: a TV, some fast food, movies, a new game console, and a bunch of other normal teenager things. They were accompanied by a very small amount of crystals and potions and books sitting by your table. You’ve figured that they still wanted to give you the usual gifts along with your relics, so you let it slide and instead just admire the brand new room you have.

“Do you like it?” Namjoon asks, looking around. The chimera redecorated while your party was going on to make it more suitable for training, Namjoon explains, and you’re left laughing a little.

“I love it, but I don’t understand how this room has been renovated to be more equipped for training! What’s a 40-inch TV got to do with anything?” You ask, and Namjoon waves you off, saying something about things coming together later.

You walls are painted a deep blue color and your curtains were now heavier and thicker. The bed was gigantic and soft as you sat down on it, pillows crowding the top half. The TV was directly in front of it, and really, holy shit, how was this room supposed to be for training?

Namjoon notices your frown and furrows his brows a little. “The bed will fit us as it is, but would you like it larger?” he asks. You stare at him a little and he’s very clueless as to why.

“The bed will fit us?” you repeat and he nods, and then he realizes your confusion as he hasn’t mentioned the fact that he’s staying over for a week for your training. And here, he’s staying here, in your house. In your room.

“Does dad know? I mean, you can magic up the guest bedroom to be your room, right? I’ll go ask dad if you can stay—,” you trail, but before you can reach the door Namjoon holds your arm and laughs.

“Your father knows about this whole thing, my lady. You do not need consent for me to be in here,” he reassures you, but you were terribly far from reassured. He says it’s part of the training for him to be in the same room as you, and you press no further. He’s your guardian, and he will do you no harm! Sure, he’s really hot and you might get flustered later on tonight, but your en suite bathroom is accessible enough to relieve yourself should you need to. Princess and all, you’re still a 26 year old accustomed to the human way, and the human way is that you get a little bothered when attractive guys are around you in the evening with no possibility of your parents trying to intervene.

Oh my god, princess, stop it, you think to yourself. In your daze, Namjoon just stood in front of you the whole time, patiently waiting for you to say something. He asks you if you’re alright and you nod at him, smiling.

The studying commences a little later, the sun barely starting to set when you started, but the room was almost pitch black without the lights because of the curtains the chimera have chosen for you. Namjoon’s running you through the basics, things you’ve read in your own time, and you’re not really listening to him. No, you were just staring at him like a woman deprived. You looked so funny and weird looking at him with just sheer desire in your eyes, and the funniest part? He’s already noticed, he’s just not saying anything.

“You know, you’re going to bore a hole through my face if you keep looking at me like that,” he says finally breaking the silence. You’re immediately flustered and you try to avoid his gaze, but he turns fully to face you, foregoing the lecture and instead starts staring at you as well. His cheek rests against his hand and he sighs after a few seconds.

“Quit it,” you say, face already burning hot. He blows air out of his nose in some form of a chuckle and leans in closer to you.

“Why? You wouldn’t have stopped if I didn’t call you out on it,” he says, face so so close to yours. You should be appalled that he’s acting this way towards you, but your mind is spinning and you can’t really form cohesive words right now. You couldn’t mouth the fuck off you wanted to playfully reply and the longer it took for you to try and compose yourself well enough to respond to Namjoon, the closer he got. He’s smiling wide, extremely white teeth staring straight at you. You want to wince at the sight.

He cups your cheek with his hand and with the other, conjures up some purple dust and taps it onto your lips.

“That should do it,” he smiles, content, and then he kisses you.

His lips were soft and as much as you wanted to brand your first kiss as innocent, this was far from it. Namjoon was hungry and you struggled to keep up with his intensity, both his hands now holding your face. You return his kisses willingly, and it takes about ten slow seconds of just plain making out before memories start to flood back into your head.

You’re now even more overwhelmed than you were about the kiss, and Namjoon holds you down firmly so you couldn’t move backwards. Breathing becomes difficult at this point, but you simply cannot break away from the kiss, not now, not while you’re remembering. It almost feels like Namjoon was trying to choke you out of breath, but he kept moving his lips against yours and now you’re overwhelmed with all the flashbacks, near passing out, and horny. What a whammy.

Then your dad walks in on the intense make out session and alas, the kiss is broken.

He sets the McDonald’s takeaway on the table and continuously swears to himself. He apologizes for disturbing, and explains that he did not expect that to happen until about the third day and so he did not bother knocking. He leaves in a panic and locks the door before he clicks it closed behind him.

“Did it work?” Namjoon asks, searching your eyes.  You don’t know what that’s supposed to mean so you don’t answer. Namjoon continues to try and talk to you, ignoring your obvious embarrassment over what had just happened, but he snaps you out of your trance when he softly says, “baby?”

You’re jostled upright from your slouched position on your seat. He sighs  heavily.

“That means the memories did not complete. Not when you’re surprised I called you baby,” he attempts a laugh, but he shakes his head instead.

“Sorry?” you say, and he smiles earnestly at you. It’s not your fault, really. Namjoon scolds himself about locking doors while you try to process just what the fuck was going on.

Namjoon’s a special someone, you’ve gathered that much. He was in every single one of the memory snippets you got, and he’s for sure important and dear to you in the other dimension if he kissed you like that so comfortably, so quickly. You’re not sure what to do and so you kiss his cheek as he thinks to himself, since hey, he’s probably your boyrfriend, and you’re exhilarated by that. He then smiles, and kisses your lips back. 

“Well, that made this whole thing harder, but you’re probably not going to be complaining about extended training,” he says, reaching for your dinner your dad brought upstairs at a bad time.

“Training? That was training?” you ask, again, confused. Namjoon nods, and smirks. The audacity, you thought. How dare he smirk at you after he’s just choke-kissed you.

“Yes, baby. We’re going to be doing a lot more kissing than we first needed to now.”

Wait, hold the fuck up. Kissing? Your training involves a lot of kissing? What in the fresh hell? It’s not like you wouldn’t want to kiss Namjoon repeatedly with the door locked, but you’re supposed to prepare to rule a whole kingdom and take down bad guys and you’re supposed to learn how to by kissing?

Namjoon holds your thigh and rubs his nose on your temple as he chows down on the burger he’s holding and asks you to do the same, and you comply. A comfortable silence ensues as dinner passes, but your mind quickly wandered off into what the rest of the night would be like now that you’ve been briefed on what was about to go down.

“We can do it one of two ways,” Namjoon starts, standing up from his chair by the desk. “We can do it slowly, or just smack it all down all at once.” he sits on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to need you to explain,” you answer, turning your seat around to face him.

“I did a spell a while ago, and that was really the main procedure. It’s supposed to flood memories back very very quickly, granted the kiss remained a kiss until the process was over,” he clasps his hands together. “However, the kiss was broken. And we can’t use the powder again.”

The powder, yes, the purple sugary thing. You ask him why and he says it reacts to oxygen, something this realm has so so much of. You can’t use the powder until about a week later, as it’s left in your system.

And so now, you’re left with a choice of just continuously making out in sessions over the next few days, or having sex once every day to speed up the process a little bit.

You’re so surprised by how Namjoon said your options, and wow, what the hell? Is this a thing for your kind? Sex? Random casual frequent sex? You begin to wonder if Namjoon really was anyone special, or if it was just completely normal to kiss and fuck whoever. He reassures  you that he’s indeed someone special, but he’d rather let the memories explain as he’s not sure how you’d take things given that basic information scares the shit out of you.

He then proceeds to explain that chimera are, as you already knew, demons. Your lineage is from the god of lust, and so memories transfer via intimate touch. He repeats that they’re still basically human, just rearing from a lustful demon, and so partners and loyalty are very much a thing and that random necessary sex is nothing you should be concerned about. Only a person’s partner can have an effect on them, hence why Namjoon is the only one that can help you, and only he can give you back your powers.

You fall silent, and things aren’t really that hard to understand, it’s just that, what do you do? Fuck him now, or fuck him later? The kiss already got you going, so do you run the full marathon already?

No, you won’t, because that would shorten the amount of time before you’re “ready” and “fully recovered”, so you tell him you’d rather kiss. Actually, what you said was let’s fuck later, but hey, same thought. Namjoon nods and smiles approvingly.

The night is then taken slowly, you settling onto the bed cuddling into his side as you watch trash TV. It was around 9 pm when your dad knocks on your locked door. Namjoon goes to open it for him and oh dear, your dad shows up with alcohol and condoms. Namjoon laughs and takes them, and your dad says whatever you need, just ring him and he’ll be downstairs.

This is needlessly so fucking awkward, but it’s only because you’ve pretended to be human for so long. For your dad, it’s absolutely normal.

Namjoon sets the condoms down by the bedside table and he pops open a beer. He offers you one but you decline.

“Baby I know it’s weird and it seems urgent with how things are going, but trust me, we can take things as slow as you want, yeah?” He says, taking a sip from his can. “And the room’s sound proofed, if you’re worried about that too,” he smirks, and you smack his arm.

With the room being mentioned, you piece together the specific interior decoration going on. It was optimized for training, of course! It looks like a wonderful place to fuck. Dark, spacious, lots of room. In between the fucks you could chill out and play PS4 or watch TV.

After a little bit of thinking, you free yourself from Namjoon’s hold and take a sip out of his beer can. You set it down beside the condoms and straddle him, his hands welcoming you, setting themselves on your waist. You give him a quick peck and he chases after your lips once you pull away, but you don’t let him catch up.

“I want to remember a little bit more tonight,” you breathe, and he nods, taking your lips in his, a little softer than earlier. His hands snake up your sides as the kiss progresses, until one of them reach for your boob and you lean into his touch. Your hips start grinding down on him subconsciously, and then the tongue and the biting commences.

He’s aggressive with how he kisses, but he massages your breasts like they’re made of gelatin and  he could crush them if he went too hard. He’s starting to moan when a memory sparks up in your head and you press into his lips harder. He moans a little louder and you grind down on him a little more urgently and there you have it, a vivid memory.

You pull away a little breathless and he smiles when he asks you what you got. You realize how much slower this process is versus when it’s aided by the powder, but you’re happy you’ve recalled that Namjoon was not merely your boyfriend, no, he’s your soulmate. The one you’re destined to be, well, fucking for eternity as your descent demands. Better than being a descendant of the god of wrath, right? How do soulmates work for them? Do they hurt each other every chance they get? Those thoughts make you immediately grateful to be under the deadly sin that requires most intimacy.

“I don’t remember your tits being so big,” Namjoon says, interrupting your thinking. He reaches for the two and starts toying with them. “But then again, the last time I touched them was so long ago.”

Being immortal in the other realm had its perks, sure, but that meant you stopped growing at a certain age, and your age was 23. Having you transfer into a different dimension made you age beyond that, and luckily for you, that meant your boobs growing a lot bigger than they were.

“Change into your pajamas and get this bra off, babe,” he says, and you oblige. As soon as you get off of him, he realizes he’s so fucking hard that changing into his own pajamas were a struggle as they just tented right on his dick. As much as he wants to take it slow like you do, he’s gonna have a hard time keeping it in his pants.

[thechocoboos]

Bossy

I’m an angry lil potato today so this was born! Enjoy. Ft. Bossy ass dickwad Ignis and an angry reader

Genre: ??? Slice of life...?

Word Count: 2,047

Pairings: lowkey Ignis/reader if you really squint

Warnings: Swearing. So much swearing.

He was so bossy-always walking around with his back straight and head high, a commanding tone to his rich voice. He told you what to do, when to do it, and sometimes even how to do it, which had always been more insulting to you than he’d realized. Yes, Ignis Scientia was a bossy man, and it absolutely pushed your buttons. You two were meant to be equals - to serve Noctis as his advisers, together. Granted, Ignis had been Noctis’ adviser much longer than you as you had only been hired a year ago, however, that did not mean you were incapable of doing your job.

Part of you reminded yourself that he was a busy man, having to advise the damn prince alongside additional duties, so his commanding nature was necessary for everything to get done. Still, he didn’t have to be such an absolute posh-ass about it. Day after day, you had to live with his dumb requests, his dumb voice, his dumb glasses and it - no, he - was hell.

Ignis wasn’t a bad person by any means, but he definitely had his head stuck up his ass and you were absolutely sick of it. One day, your anger and your frustration caught up to you, leaving room for nothing but negativity to brew in your brain.

His loud, expensive shoes were clicking on down the hall as he listed off instructions for you to follow. “-and you’ll have to stop by to get the Marshal’s list of executive orders as well as follow through on the Shield’s list from last week. I trust you can manage that much in the next hour.”

Your mind halted. Next hour? Tracking down Cor would take a good half hour alone, and trying to get any information from Clarus Amicitia was like pulling teeth (You swore his stubbornness could stop a freight train if he tried). Your annoyance was peaking, and as you turned to rip Ignis a new one, he was already listing your next orders.

“-You’ll have to go speak with the Crownsguard about their atrocious behavior at Mini’s Bar from last night as well as collect their payments for the damages they caused. You would also do well to write down their reports as to what happened-” he paused, his pale green eyes flickering to your face for a moment. “Y/N? Are you listening? This is not the time to be daydreaming-”

You cut him off, voice barely controlled as your blood boiled beneath your skin. “Yeah. Yeah, I fucking heard you.” You said, your own eyes meeting his head on for the first time in your career. “You want me to do all these extra, menial chores, on top of my normal duties rather than have all these fucking responsible-ass adults report to you like they should fucking be able to do for once in their goddamn lives, all while you treat me like an absolute child with your dumbass face and your fucking-” You cut yourself off, face red in anger and voice slowly rising and shaking with repressed emotions.

Ignis’ eyes were surprised, “I beg your pardon-”

You cut him off once again, anger rolling into your voice. “Then fucking beg.” You halted where you stood and faced him with one sharp pencil pointed at his disgustingly well-toned chest. “I was fucking handpicked to be your goddamn equal! An adviser, just like you! Instead, you treat me like a five year old who can’t brush their own fucking teeth!” Your voice had risen to a yell as you jabbed your pencil towards him. “I’m fucking tired of this shit!” You finally finished, throat slightly sore. Glaring at him in his surprised daze, you threw your pencil to the ground and thrust your clipboard into his chest, not waiting for him to catch it as your turned on your heel. “I apologize for my fucking abrupt news, you absolute cactus of a prick, but I’m taking a personal fucking day off.” You snapped, not waiting for his response as you began to stomp down the Citadel hall.

Just to your luck, Prince Noctis was waiting at the end, his own eyebrows risen slightly and his best friend, a hyperactive blond you had seen hopping around, was slack jawed with his blue eyes wide in surprise. Behind them, the Prince’s shield had one perfectly bushy eyebrow raised, his muscled arms crossed as he gave you an appreciative nod.

It wasn’t often you saw Prince Noctis, or his shield, as Ignis never gave you chores that involved them. An embarrassed blush rose to your cheeks; you hadn’t planned on royalty witnessing you bout of anger. You bowed slightly before the Prince, “I apologize for my unprofessional behavior, Your Highness.” Your voice was clipped, a remainder of your anger echoing in its tone. “If you’ll excuse me.” Rather than wait for a response, which Ignis would no doubt reprimand you on (if he didn’t fire you, that is), you brushed passed them with a scowl on your face, a tense anger in your posture, and attitude in your step.

Ignis watched you as you disappeared behind a corner, his green eyes just a millimeter wider than normal and his lips parted in a slight “o”. He was holding the clipboard to his chest, more out of instinct than much else at this point. His eyes shifted as he heard the familiar steps of the other three approaching.

“Well, shit. I never thought they’d have it in ‘em.” Gladio’s rocky voice chuckled.

Ignis cleared his throat, closing his mouth as he adjusted his glasses and shutting his eyes for a millisecond. “That was the most appalling behavior I have ever witnessed from someone of such a high standing.” Ignis stated calmly, swallowing thickly. “There will no doubt be a punishment in order-”

Noctis cut Ignis off, “High standing?” He echoed, voice flat. Ignis glanced at Noctis, surprised at the sarcastic tone to his voice. Noctis continued, “For someone who’s supposedly, ‘High Standing’, you treat them like dirt.”

Ignis felt a twinge of offense. “I disagree-”

“-C’mon, specs.” Noctis crossed his arms. “Like they said, they were handpicked by my dad and about a billion other officials to be my second adviser, but you just give them shit that the lowest of the low could do around here.” If Ignis wasn’t mistaken, there was a note of annoyance in Noctis’ voice. “Hell, I can’t even remember their name half the time ‘cause they never even get to talk to me.”

It was silent for a moment. For the second time that day, Ignis’ eyes were wide and he was speechless.

Prompto piped up, voice a little uncertain as he looked at Noctis and whispered, “... You have a second adviser?”

It was with Prompto’s innocent question that things clicked. Ignis blinked, recalling the same list of chores he had given you that day. Sure enough, each item was a menial task that anyone could have done. In hindsight, Ignis was indeed being an “absolute cactus of a prick” as you had so kindly called him.

“I don’t know what your problem with them is,” Noctis said, catching Ignis’ attention. “But whatever it is, it needs to stop. Let them do their job, dude. I get it if you don’t want a new adviser to mess everything up or whatever it is, but they’re the best of the best. They can handle it.”

Ignis was quiet for a moment. He glanced to Gladio, who gave a grunt of agreement, and to Prompto, who still looked confused. He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I suppose-No, you are right, Your Highness. I do believe I have been rather… unfair to them. I believe an apology is in order.”

Noctis snorted, “Don’t tell that to me.” He replied, rolling his eyes.

Nodding, Ignis went to pull out his phone, only for Gladio to stop him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Gladio asked, raised an eyebrow.

“Calling Y/N, of course-”

“I don’t think so.” Gladio chuckled, remembering that yes, Ignis is a genius, but sometimes he’s an idiot, “They’re taking a personal day off, remember? Let ‘em cool down for a bit.”

Ignis nodded, adjusting his glasses. Of course. They were most likely still angry, afterall, he was rather rude and dismissive of them… Still, as the day progressed, Ignis’ stomach was rolling around in the unfamiliar feeling of guilt. It wasn’t often that he felt guilt, as his decisions were logical and thorough enough to be guilt-free, although in this situation, he knew he was in the wrong.

The following day, you walked into Ignis’ office with a steeled mask over your features despite the clear nervousness in your posture. “Excuse me, sir.” You began, voice wavering slightly. Yes, you strongly disliked him, but that was no excuse for your harsh words. As much as it killed you to do so, you began to apologize. “I… I apologize for my words and actions yesterday.” His eyes glanced up, patiently waiting. You continued, “It was unprofessional an immature of me to behave in such a way-”

Ignis held up a hand, stopping you mid-sentence. “It was.” He stated bluntly, voice as posh as normal. A twinge of frustration bloomed in your gut, only to be stopped short by his next words. “However, you made logical points.” He began, standing up. There was something in his voice, an almost apologetic voice. His next words were strong, his voice sure. “You were handpicked from the finest advisers in the city, by the finest officials we have at the Citadel. You were chosen to stand by Prince Noctis and aid in advising him, just as I was. We were supposed to work together as equals and help him be the best Prince - the best King - that he can be.

“I came between you and your duty.” Ignis admitted, looking at you with guilt in his wonderful eyes. “I treated you as an assistant - even as a maid when we’re meant to be equals and…” He stepped around his desk, standing three feet away from you and looked you in the eye as he spoke, “I can only say I’m sorry.”

It was clear he expected you to say something, but you found yourself speechless. This posh, somewhat arrogant man who treated you like dirt, had apologized to you with nothing but respect. Part of you was still angry at him for wasting your past year as adviser, but another part - a much bigger part - forgave him.

It took you a moment to collect yourself and your words. It seemed with each passing second, Ignis felt more and more dejected about his apology. Finally, you spoke. “Part of me is still a bit annoyed.” You admitted, scratching your arm. “But… I think both of us were assholes, here. I think, as long as you’re willing to let me do my job from now on, that I forgive you, sir. I can only hope that you forgive me for my inappropriate outburst from yesterday.” You found yourself bowing slightly, eyes anchored to the ground.

A hand fell on your shoulder, your head jolting up in surprise. A small smile sat on Ignis’ face, catching you by surprise. “I do believe that bowing to each other will be unnecessary, as will be using terms such as ‘sir’.” He told you, his hand still on your shoulder as you stood up. “From now on, we are equals, Y/N, as we should have been.”

You couldn’t stop your own smile from sliding onto your face or your nervously thumping heart as you heard him say your name with respect.

“Now,” He began, releasing your shoulder and adjusting his glasses, “I do believe I have to fill you in on today’s schedule.” he chuckled, “I’ve left you in the dark for far too long.”

For once, as he spoke, his voice didn’t sound so dumb and his face didn’t look so annoying. In fact, you daresay that he looked handsome. Of course, there was no time to spend admiring him, as you two would be late for an advisement meeting with King Regis and there was plenty of catching up to do on the way.

[burntotears]

Title: Meet Cute W/C: 1987 Summary: Ryan had always been looking for his place with a good crew and he knew how to take advantage of a situation. A/N: When criminal!husbands first meet, it isn’t mutual attraction. AO3 Link or read under the cut

Ryan’s first run-in with the Fake AH Crew went almost nothing like he’d expected it to. He’d been profiling them for a while, intrigued by the way they handled their business - notorious throughout Los Santos but still five ghosts with no names. They had resources and contacts that Ryan could sorely use and while being a lone wolf had some advantages, the luxury of someone watching your back was an undervalued commodity in this business.

So imagine his surprise when the infamous five men flagrantly blew into the bank (a bit over the top if Ryan was the judge), waving guns around while announcing they were there to rob the place. The bank that Ryan was currently standing in, a backpack full of money he’d just cleared from that very safe.

He gripped the straps tightly as he dropped to the floor with the other patrons. He tugged his cap a bit lower over his eyes and watched as the men scattered to different areas of the bank, every person performing his own job with efficiency. He needed a chance to cut and run. When they found out that the money was gone, he didn’t want to be there to catch the blow-back. He valued his life more than he admired these men.

Sneaking out of the side door was his best bet, but the man clad in a brown leather jacket and fitted jeans was casing the lobby with well-trained eyes behind a dark grey wolf mask. This wasn’t going to be easy, but even as the fear coursed through him, the excitement pumped through his veins alongside it. Ryan lived for challenges like these.

He made his movements slow, making sure to keep himself as inconspicuous as possible while he inched closer to the exit. His moment came when men started to shout from the back rooms - no doubt they had found the money missing. The wolf was temporarily distracted which allowed Ryan to fully slip from view and into the dark alley. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt a gun press into his back just as he was rounding the corner to the backside of the bank. At least they lived up to their names.

“Get against the wall,” the voice commanded and he did as he was told. The man ripped the backpack from his shoulder and yanked the zipper open, a low whistle escaping his mouth. “Well, well… seems someone already did our job for us.”

Ryan heard the quiet crackle of a comm in the other man’s ear, but he still couldn’t see who had caught him. The curiosity was killing him, but it seeped out quickly with his consciousness when he was hit over the head with something. The last thing he heard was the man saying, “got a problem” before he blacked out completely.

“You actually think we should just let him go?” an incredulous voice admonished, ripping Ryan out of the cold dark and back into reality. His hands were bound behind him, unsurprisingly, and the room was too bright for his eyes to focus immediately.

“I didn’t say that,” a woman’s voice responded. “I said we have no reason to kill him just because he outsmarted us.”

“Outsmarted is a bit much. Luck and convenience seem more appropriate here.”

Someone laughed derisively. “There’s no fucking way he managed that by being in the right place at the right time.”

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, Ryan saw the five men standing around a table where his backpack sat like a trophy. He was bound to a chair at the head of the table like some fucked up guest of honor.

“Morning, sunshine,” a shorter man clad in gaudy purple and orange said, tapping Ryan on the shoulder with a baseball bat. “We were just talking about you.”

“I’m flattered,” Ryan replied, finding his voice was hoarse from disuse. “I certainly hope my good looks were the focal point of the conversation.”

“I don’t like this fuckwad.” Ryan’s eyes swiveled to meet a set of light brown eyes that frowned at him from behind a wolf mask. A pile of brown curls poked out atop the mask and he had the stupidly dopey thought of how he liked curly hair. He was probably drugged.

“You don’t like anybody, boi,” a man with a British accent responded, surprising Ryan. He was learning more about these men in five minutes than he had in the two years he’d followed their crew.

There was no way they were going to let him live.

“I can understand your current antipathy. After all, I did manage to pull off your heist single-handed and in mere moments before you. That would make anyone a bit irritable.” His self preservation had not kicked in yet, it seemed.

The wolf mask mimed slapping him on the head, his eyes betraying a fiery fury that Ryan had only ever seen staring back at him in a mirror.

“Chill, Mogar. He’s cocky, sure, but he’s also right. We shouldn’t have been outplayed by one dude with the fashion sense of a middle-aged dad in the suburbs.”

Ryan frowned. “There’s really no reason to make such low blows, even in a situation such as this. I’ll have you know that when I’m not undercover as a normal civilian bank-robber, I am actually a nefariously well-known criminal in Los Santos.”

A few of them started to laugh. He shouldn’t have been too surprised at that reaction. He probably seemed terribly non-threatening in his faded jeans and t-shirt, baseball cap, and long blond hair pulled back into a quintessential I.T. ponytail.

“What? You don’t believe me?” he looked at each masked man in turn. If he told them the truth, they might just kill him. If he didn’t, they might just kill him. His options weren’t looking stellar at the moment. He bulked up his shoulders and summoned all the confidence he could muster. “Ok, here’s what is going to happen. I will tell you who I am, you’ll be considerably impressed, then you’ll invite me to join your crew. Call it a trial run? If I don’t prove to be useful then you can kill me and you won’t have to worry about me ever again. What do you think?”

“Is this tosser serious?” the Brit laughed, though he was only one of two who did. He looked around in surprise. “Uh… you’re not considering this, are you?”

The female shrugged. “I am. He outplayed us. I want to know how.”

The man in formal attire spoke up. “How about you tell us who you are first and then we’ll consider whether you get to live or not.”

Ryan shrugged. “I feel like my chances aren’t great in any scenario here, so it’s best to play to my strengths. I’m Vagabond.”

There was a wolf whistle, a laugh, and a cough of surprise. “Bullshit!” the shortest man blurted out, shaking his head. “He’s fucking full of it!”

The man in the wolf mask was stock still and serious as he continued to stare Ryan down. “He’s telling the truth. It isn’t like lying would keep him alive longer.” He was no fool, Ryan would give him that.

“Okay, and what do you gain by joining us?” the formal man asked.

“Resources, power, connections, reliability, a name for myself. The list is fairly extensive.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself as being fucking insane. How will that benefit us?” the woman asked.

“How will it not? I’m known as being insane because I will do anything to get the job done. I’ve risked my own life for it. How is that not an asset?”

The wolf mask looked personally offended by the statement, but Ryan wasn’t certain why. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut over by the suited gentleman. “Okay, Vagabond, we’re going to convene to another room to discuss this. You sit tight.”

Ryan snorted in contempt. “I won’t go anywhere.”

He sat there in that chair for at least thirty minutes before they returned. When they entered the room again, they were maskless. Ryan stood up immediately, his bindings falling to the floor uselessly and the blond with the British accent threw his hands into the air. “You’re having a laugh!”

The woman laughed in earnest, though, and extended her hand to him. “I’m Jack. You could call me the babysitter around here.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Ryan.” He took her hand in a firm shake with no surprise when she gripped his hand firmly.

A man with a mean looking mustache approached him next. “Geoff. I tell everyone what to do.”

Next was the short man in the appalling assortment of orange and purple. “Jeremy. It’s cool to meet you, Vagabond. I’m just muscle really.”

Ryan nodded and turned his attention to the Brit. “How did you even?” he asked, still looking at the bindings on the floor. “I’m Gav. I make everyone else look good.”

“Right.” The only person who hadn’t stepped up to greet him was the brunette with the wild curls. He was perched against the wall with his arms crossed, staring Ryan down petulantly. The fullness of his face contradicted the fire that lived in his eyes.

“This prat is Michael, my boi. He’s a bit grumpy.”

“Shut it, Gavin,” Michael responded, though his eyes were still trained on Ryan.

“Alright then,” Geoff clapped his hands and leaned on the table. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, we want to know how you pulled off that money grab.”

Ryan didn’t make it two steps from the high rise apartment complex before he was being shoved up against the concrete wall by a forceful arm. He lifted his hands up in surrender, looking at Michael in earnest. Whatever problem Michael had with him was apparently private and he was interested to hear about it.

“Look, Haywood. Just because you’ve got the rest of them eating out of the palm of your hand doesn’t mean that I’m fooled.” The fire behind Michael’s gaze had returned and Ryan found he was unable to tear his eyes away from it. This man was untethered in a way that sent heat broiling inside Ryan’s chest. He wanted to know more.

“And what about me is it that you think you know better?” Ryan replied steady, though he might have betrayed his curiosity.

Michael eyed him with suspicion, but continued. “You with your gaudy vocabulary and your overblown ego. You’re a narcissistic, overconfident, deranged asshole who is only looking out for himself. That’s not what this crew is about. We’re a family. And nobody fucks with my family, Vagabond.” The brunette pressed his forearm more harshly into Ryan’s chest for emphasis. “Do we understand each other?”

Ryan nodded slowly even as his heart began to beat like a drum in his chest. Michael was threatening him, but he felt exhilarated by it. “You never hesitate and while it might look like you’re just reckless, you actually have a fire inside of you that you haven’t been able to satiate. Your hate is cruel, but your love is even more ruthless.” He thought a moment before adding, “You’re an enigma.”

Michael’s jaw dropped slowly as Ryan spoke about him before he finally pushed hard against the man’s chest and backed away. “Who the fuck are you to tell me who I am? Stay outta my way, Haywood. I mean it.” The shorter man walked off without a second glance.

“I know you do. Goodnight, Michael,” he responded, still pressed against the cool concrete. He banged his head back lightly, waiting for his heart to settle to a normal rhythm again. “Fuck,” he breathed quietly.

This was exactly where he was supposed to be and he would be damned if anything separated him from the Fake AH Crew now.