#but where'd he get the giant bottle

[opbackgrounds]

I see that Hildon going for the Whiskey Peak-style of getting the Straw Hats drunk before trying to steal their shadows. Too bad no one told him that Nami's really good at holding her liquor.

[after-the-end-times]

omg I love this by @steddieas-shegoes, but for some reason that scene from Ted Lasso immediately popped into my head when I was reading it? Thus, this:

It's not long after Steve and Eddie finally slept together for the first time that Eddie walks into the house to Steve holding a baby, a baby with curls and big amber eyes.

And he doesn't want to assume, but it is dressed in a pink onesie, so he's gonna go ahead and say she's a girl baby. And Eddie definitely knows there's normal things to ask about a surprise baby, like what's her name or who's is she or, even, where'd she come from, but nope.

"Is- Is she mine?" he says, eyes widening and a hand drifting up to his chest.

Steve just looks at him, a bemused smile spreading across his face,

"Eddie, we had sex, like, a week ago."

"Riiiight right right, sorry, yeah bad math" Eddie says, huffing out a laugh. 'Cause yeah, it's the math that's the issue.

Steve turns to head back into the kitchen, blithely adding as he goes,

"And if memory serves, you finished on my-"

"Woooah nonono!. Steve! You can't- That's not-" Eddie says rushing after him, stopping in front of Steve and the baby.

The baby who looks up at him with giant eyes and fingers in her mouth and looks so much like SteveandEddie that Eddie's brain is still trying to work out some sort of science or magic that would explain this situation because he suddenly wants it to be-

And Steve's just looking at him with the most gentle half smile and crinkly eyes, but Eddie just shakes his head to clear his thoughts, gently covers the baby's ears, and says in the most scandalized tone he didn't even know he had in him,

"There's no reason to get into the science of it all in front of the baby, Steve!"

Steve smiles wide at that and he heads to the sink, patting Eddie on the shoulder as he goes,

"Well, why don't we get her a bottle and then we can discuss the science of it all while she naps, hm?"

[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch9 Interlude

(Warnings: Mentions of blood and Wounds and the horrible conditions the mers went through.)

@shadyd3ar

@jjamsbangtan

@six-eyed-samurai

"HOLD ON, SUMA!! I'M OK! WAIT, WAIT, WA-"

SPLASH -!!!

You didn't have a chance to finish before you were suddenly gripped around the waist by one extremely emotional mermaid and yanked forward. You remembered some pain from knocking into some of the others before you were suddenly in the giant tub under the water. A second later you were pulled back up by desperate hands as you stuttered and spat out water. 

"SHE'S BLEEDING! SHE'S BLEEDING!!," Suma wailed out as she gripped onto your shoulders still crying. "Aaaaaaahhhahahaaaaa!!"

Makio, Hinatsuru, and the new merman stared at you both tears still streaming down their faces and holding one another..but just staring. Eventually they all looked at one another before Makio broke the silence.

"Exactly w-where is she bleeding from?"

"Her fa-faaaaaace!!"

"Suma, there's no blood on her face."

Suma instantly stopped to stare at them, sniffled, and then turned to your deadpanned face. Her blue eyes widened in shock before she reached out to rub along your not hurt face. "But ... Where'd it go?"

"AH!! You must've mistaken the blood on her for mine!", the merman exclaimed loudly making the three look at him.

Uh oh.

"YOUR BLOOD!?," Hinatsuru asked horrified seeming to just now take notice that her friend had visible injuries and dried blood on his body.

"INDEED! She saved my life with medical kissing!!"

The silence was so full you could hear a pin drop outside of the rain. ..The girls again looked at your horrified face before you facepalmed yourself. Why? Why you? Why did this always happen to you?

"For the last time it's NOT kissing! It's CPR!," you practically shouted from where you stood in the water.

"My apologies!," he shouted again.

"Let's back up real quick."

Again they all looked at one another as you waded through the water and pulled yourself out of the tub and onto the edge. At least you were already wet from the river and rain so it wasn't a big deal. Everyone silently watched as you wrung your dress out and horrifiedly noticed that there was a trail of water and blood across your floor from the merman dragging himself along your house. You'd have to clean that up right away before anyone saw. Your head turned back on them all still staring back on you. But first things first. There was a matter of emergency. They watched you quickly walk to the shelf, and just grab multiple bottles and clothes before coming back and stopping in front of them.

"Alright, Everyone. Bath time!" You dropped the bottles off in front of the tub. They flinched as the bottles thudded along the tiles.

The man blinked. "Bath?"

"Yes. You smell like fish and blood. Plus the rest of you could use a cleaning too!" You pointed directly at the man who looked cross eyed at your finger. "Get him cleaned up so I can take a look at those cuts! I'll be back after I take care of a few things."

Those few things being taking a quick bath in the guest room and mopping up the mess he left behind before anyone saw it. You were swift in your actions. Despite the coldness of the water you quickly bathed before dragging a mop and bucket full of water to the front where to your disgust, it smelt heavily of copper and fish. It was a disgusting scent that almost caused you to vomit. Instead you dunked the mop into the bucket and began scrubbing away the blood and dirty water trail. Following the trail from the front door and down the hall reaching the doorway before opening it and just coming right in. The door opening startled the man on the inside causing him to snap his head over to the door. You paid him no mind just continuing to mop your way into the room following the trail to the bath. Steam hit you as the four of them stared back at you. 

"Are you done?" You took a glance up. The man was looking at you, looking cleaner but not quite there yet. Hinatsuru was rubbing suds through his hair as the other two paid attention to his tail carefully rubbing it down along the strange fins.

"Not quite but we'll be quick," Hinatsuru answered going back to work on the blonde's hair making him close an eye.

"Good. I'll grab you some more dresses to borrow in the meantime. " With a final dunk you paused a moment to look over the four of them as they worked. "....How are you feeling, Sir?"

"IM STILL IN INCREDIBLE PAIN!", He shouted back to you making you blink. "But I'm feeling much better knowing that my wives are alive and well!"

You just...stared. "Oh..Ok. Um. How's your wounds look?"

"They're not at all deep! I'll be healed in approximately a month's time!"

Did he always shout his answers? "Well even if you're sure you're ok, I should still bandage you up. Finish cleaning up and I'll bring you all some clothes and food." F/c eyes looked him over. He stopped bleeding but you could still see the cuts along his forehead and chest and the largest one down his bright tail as Suma and Makio worked soap carefully along his scales. "I-...I-I don't know if I have enough bandages to cover all of those wounds. B-But I'll see what I can do."

"Anything you can do for him is fine." Hinatsuru waved a soapy hand at you. "Don't worry about us. Go do what you need to."

Four pairs of eyes watched you leave taking the mop and bucket of dirty bloody water with you. The door closed behind your retreating form and once again there was silence except for the heavy storm outside. He laid still and silent for his wives, content to let the three continue their tasks. To be perfectly honest it felt pretty nice having them run their hands along him rubbing the...Soap the human called it over him. He wasn't sure what this weird smelling gel stuff was, but it didn't smell too bad. Smelt like sweet flowers as it was worked over his body by the three. For what felt like forever he finally spoke when Hinatsuru went to go rinse his hair of the strange concoction. 

"Is that a danger?" The pink haired mermaid paused in her actions of lowering him back down into the water with a blink. The head of golden suds nodded up towards the door. "The human?"

"Y/n?" Then something happened that completely caught him off guard. Hinatsuru frowned upon him. "Of course not. It's thanks to her that we're even alive."

Brows rose higher up on his face. "Really? Well color me surprised. EXPLAIN PLEASE!"

The loud boisterous voice earned him a round of giggles that made his heart beat up out of his chest and his body long to hold them instead as he was lowered down to be submerged. Mud, soap, and dried blood being washed away from his body surprisingly he felt much better. 

"Remember how we explained how we ended up in that tank?" He nodded. Yes. They had explained most of their life away from him before the human had come back to mop up his blood trail. "Well, she was the one who got us out. She brought us here and fed us, kept us clean, and practically provided everything we asked for or needed. I fear she's becoming very stressed about how difficult it's become for her."

"Is that so? I am not surprised when she insisted on helping me. I am unsure of how true it is, but she informed me that I had stopped breathing!" The three paused. "If that's true then without her medical kissing I surely would've died!! I owe her a handful of gratitude for her heroic deeds!"

"YOU STOPPED WHAT?!" 

There was a loud splash as Makio dropped what was left of his tail in shock staring wide eyed at his smiling face. "BREATHING!! I did say that!"

"Uh. And you didn't think to mention that?!"

"I JUST DID!!"

Makio looked ready to go throttle him out of frustration and might've if Suma didn't just slap a handful of soap on her hair and started humming along happy as can be now that Rengoku was here and a sign of Tengen had been revealed to them all. Makio jumped..but just accepted her fate as their usually crying counterpart continued to run at her back and head.

"I think she'd like that." Fiery eyes looked back up to Hinatsuru's smiling face. "If you thanked her I mean. It'd mean a lot to her...but there's also something that I think we can do for her." She gently rubbed at his head where he floated up on the water.

"Oh?" The way Makio and Suma had stopped to look at him and the tone in which Hinatsuru was using had caught his attention. "And what might that be, sunlights?"

There was a ripple effect of wide almost scheming smiles. "What do you think about Y/n so far?"

Well out of everything he certainly wasn't expecting THAT question. It came out of nowhere actually. One that made him give pause and his smile turn to a line as he blinked. What did he think of the human woman?

A hum escaped his throat as his arms crossed instinctively. ".... She's obviously a very selfless woman which is surprising of a human." He settled on which visibly pleased the other three. "She's clearly also very kind and compassionate by everything you told me and what I've personally witnessed. But I do have to question why you're asking me such a thing."

His answer was the three giving giddy excited smiles at him. To which made his heart once again skip a beat.

"Honey, just hear us out."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Man-Sized

9/9 Peace in a Lifetime of War

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

He didn't call, didn't text, didn't explain himself.

She wrote dozens of texts, mostly with one sentence, Where'd you go?, Could we talk this through?, I'm sorry, would you please come back, but never sent them.

But she was also being ripped apart by the feeling that this simply couldn't be happening. It couldn't end like this. There was something real here. There had to be.

Pride got in the way. He didn't deserve her begging after leaving her like that without even an explanation as to why. He cared about his job more than her, and she would no longer beg for leftovers. She would not be the girl he could come and fuck in the dark when he had the time for it.

Let's make this work.

That's the sentence she wrote the most, to reverse the last words she had said. A nervous voice inside her told her that she had driven him away. That Simon was somewhere out there thinking she didn't want him in her life. After all, she had shouted that he should go and do his job… Practically, get out of her life.

But how could a few words spoken in anger drive him away? How could he just cut her off after everything? Player or not, she had thought him a better man than this.

He still had the key. He hadn't left it on the table or mailed it to her. He might still walk through that door when she least expected it.

But days turned into weeks, and somewhere in her heart, she knew a decision had been made. Simon never half-assed anything. If he had left, he had left. End of fucking story.

After three weeks, she threw away the shower gel. It reminded her of the time she had come from the shower to a dark room filled with him. When she had teased him, and he had sent her to heaven, when they had confessed their love to each other. It stared at her from the bin until she went and took out the trash with not much else but that single men's shower gel bottle in it.

He had left one of his hoodies in her apartment, and she almost threw it into the bin too. Then she crawled inside it like a child who had lost her parents.

It smelled of him, and it was so big that half of her disappeared inside it, and she felt warm, and safe, and devastated. That hoodie and her bedroom walls twisted the knife by whispering the words Marry me, laced with an echo of his laughter. Every day she decided to throw it away and start a new life, and every night she curled inside it to cry herself to sleep.

Bolognese was ruined for her. Motörhead was ruined, bourbon was ruined; the smell of tobacco brought tears to her eyes. She walked past springtime tulips like they carried the plague itself. Even Dürer was ruined.

How could a heartless, cocky 21st-century soldier ruin the genius of a Renaissance master?

Luckily, she hadn't told anyone who she had been dating for months now. She had never asked Simon to meet her parents. She hadn't even told them she was seeing someone… Her mother had made a remark on how nice it was to see her happy when she was visiting on holidays, and she had told her she had gotten good grades this semester. In her heart, she had perhaps always known that things with Simon wouldn't last. It all seemed like a dream. A beautiful, heated, fucked up pipe dream.

It was like the very oxygen from her life was gone. She didn't have the will to masturbate; the toy she had only reminded her of the embarrassing incident where she had forgotten it on the bedside table, and he had seen it and made her blush with a laugh and a comment; "That's the competition?" Such a small, pink thing compared to Simon, and even that reminded her of him.

Her workplace was a smoking rubble after a war. The pole choreographies had the atmosphere of Swan Lake rather than anything sultry and sexy — she flicked the pole to spin mode more often, started to do leg hangs and suicide spins and unicorn splits and chose music with lyrics about betrayal and other heartbroken, forlorn wailing.

Her gaze swept the audience before she grabbed the pole. Just in case. There were hungry eyes, but none belonged to the man with a winter-over stare, sleeve tattoo, and voice burnt from scotch, smoking, and sleepless nights.

The room spun, and her heart hurt, and she wondered if Simon had found another sweet girl or if he was bleeding in the blur too. Perhaps he was taking his pleasure with the women on his team, no strings attached. Fucking those tough army girls who were everything she was not. Making them moan with slow, heavy torture.

She wanted him to hurt. And then again, she did not. She wanted him to be safe, and for the first time in her life, she prayed even though she had never believed in God.

That forgotten oversized hoodie was her temple, and she wasn't sure who she was even praying to before falling asleep inside that black cotton. But she asked for Simon to stay safe, to not do anything stupid. She even prayed for his happiness, but then the prayers turned more selfish, and she asked that he would come back to her.

Just come back to her.

Her prayers were answered sooner than she would've thought. It was a frightening invocation, because when she finally caught him as a black, massive shadow against the darkness of the club, it was clear that he was in an even worse shape than she was.

He was still big, still menacing, a powerhouse of a man, but she saw that he had lost weight, the shade under his eyes was even darker than when they had first met. He was looking at her dance like he was attending a funeral: there was no smile, no hunger, only suffering in his eyes that followed her from inside a black hood.

She wanted to jump from the stage in the middle of her show, climb onto his lap, cry all the tears still uncried, although she had done nothing but bawled every night since he had left. Sweat made the pole slick, and she closed her eyes as she spun, hoping to be somewhere else entirely so he wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes. But the lights were pointing at the stage, and her face must've been a pale mask of fear and longing, and the dance turned into the ending act of her own personal Swan Lake.

It had been almost a month, and he barged back into her life like he would barge through a door into a room full of prisoners. The game was on again, and he was the fucking worst, and the relief and longing turned into red, blazing rage.

How dare he show up here? Still without warning, without a single message, when he knew how much it meant to her. Especially after what had gone down.

When she was done, she didn't go to him; she left the stage before the applause had even died, rushed to get her things, and stormed out the back door, half fearing that she would bump into him. He wasn't there, but when she walked past the entrance to get home, there was a man smoking outside. She wouldn't shed a look his way but knew from the aura of darkness and hellfire and silent leadership that it was him. There was no sound of footsteps, but she knew he was walking behind her, could almost smell the smoke, could feel his stare on her back as she rushed down the street like she was being hunted by a ravager.

And hadn't he, in a way, promised to haunt her, dead or alive?

She cried the whole way home while being followed by his ghost – silent tears of anger and relief and sorrow, jaw trembling and hiccups tickling her throat.

When she reached her apartment, she opened the door as quickly as possible, then slammed it shut behind her.

Would he use the key and force himself in? Would he take the closed door as a sign not to trespass? She almost went to open it to let him know that this area was actually a No Man's Land, not a threshold to her personal space, much less a fortress he needed to conquer.

But he had decided to pursue her, and a clear-cut knock sent her heart up her throat.

She had a choice not to open that door. Return to her old life without this fuckery. He wouldn't use the key she had given him, he was gentleman enough not to. Or perhaps not a gentleman: he simply knew when he was not welcome and would be too proud to force a connection.

But the decision had really been made a long time ago. It was made when she asked for that drink, when she accepted his flowers, when he pushed inside her the first time. Perhaps even on the moment she first laid eyes on him.

So, without having a grain of rational thought behind it, her heart walked her to that door and opened it.

He was leaning on the frame with one hand, and the hooded head rose from a heavy hang. He looked defeated for a moment, and she realized she had taken a while to come to the door… But then he squared his shoulders and raised his chin, bounced away from the frame, and the tiniest little smile played on his lips.

A look of I win.

It was something so Simon that it burned her heart, and the love returned – as if it had ever gone anywhere – and she was so angry that she slapped him to wipe off that stupid look that told her he could drop her like a toy and then come back and pick her up again.

Her palm met his chin, and it hurt her too: to hear that slap and know he allowed it to happen.

He allowed her to slap him. Again.

He reduced her to someone who hit people, like this was some trailer park romance where physical abuse was ok.

It was his fault, not hers.

It was his fault. It was.

His head was turned to the side from the force of her palm, the eyebrows rose in muted surprise. Then he slowly turned to look at her, and couldn't hide his smile anymore. He fucking got off on this.

Which was why she slapped him again – only, this time he caught her hand and finally forced himself inside, like it was an invitation that she tried to hit him. Her other hand shot out, rather impassively, and he caught that, too.

"That's quite enough."

That gruff, dark voice was probably what she had missed the most. Or those big, brown eyes full of promise. Or all that muscle wrapping around her in a crushing hug, those lips that smashed against hers in a starved kiss.

The door slammed shut behind him as he devoured her. The moment his hands let go of hers and enveloped her into that secure embrace, she dissolved and let him crush her mouth, her ribs, her everything — her hands reached for the hood and tore it down, clutched his back, his jacket, threatening to tear the clothes apart from how much she had missed him.

Tears gathered up her throat, and her eyes burned and squeezed shut, she held the black fabric in her fists and pulled, trying to get closer even when there was not a breath of air between them. His scent brought back so many memories that she threatened to drown in the flood.

The kiss left them both breathless and huffing when he drew her against him. She felt like a hostage when he closed one heavy palm around her head and simply forced her cheek to meet his chest. He had never closed her in a hug quite like this — like he was afraid that she would disappear into thin air if he didn't hold on tightly enough.

"Sweetheart." It was a rumble in her hair, a deep vibration in the solid wall she was smashed against.

"Don't you dare," she whispered through tears, but her hands told a different story as she clung to him like a drowning person.

"Sarah…" He only squeezed her harder, so hard that she feared he would soon break bones. "Love. I'm sorry that it took so long."

Her fingers flexed, then wrapped around that jet-black cotton again. The tears disappeared in his shirt, and she was glad he always wore black; otherwise, the mascara would've made a visible mess.

He smelled so good. She inhaled him like a drug — even after the desertion, his scent meant safety and home to her.

"What the fuck happened?" She sniffed, trying not to wail like a child against that firm wall of chest. "I thought you only went for a smoke."

He stroked her hair so gently that the shirt was soon soaked from her tears.

"I thought it would be best if I left you in peace," he muttered, sounding almost guilty. Her hand twitched in the folds of the hood from the utter folly of it all. She thanked the heavens that he hadn't. She had never exactly found peace with him, but being without him was even worse.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," she retorted.

"Yeah. I used to be a better man. But if ya think I'm cocky… Hah, you should've seen me back then. Feared nothing."

She had expected him to share a reason for leaving her like that, but she hadn't envisioned it to start with those words. The world was quaking again in her hallway, lit by a single, lone lamp.

"It didn't work. It got people killed. Even my brother's little kid." He was still talking to the crown of her head as if exposing the darkest of secrets, fearing that the walls were wired.

"I'm not really… alive, you know? Died with them about ten years ago."

From any other man's mouth, that trace of information, an explanation for his handicaps, would've felt melodramatic. When it came from Simon, it felt like a void was yawning before her.

"Swore that day I would never let it happen again."

How could she always forget that her judgment concerning Simon was flawed – no – distorted as hell? She knew he had lost everybody but didn't know how exactly. Of course there had been violence. She had never really understood just how important it was for him to protect people from getting too close.

I didn't mean for things to go this far suddenly stood for something completely different.

He wasn't playing or toying with her. He was being absolutely, vehemently, utterly serious.

Even… intimidated.

She felt even worse about not being there for him when he had been thin with his skin. She had made it all about her when he tried to share a deep fear.

"I tried to keep my hands off you as long as I could." He hummed, a sound of a distant, pleasant memory. "You were so… fuckin' graceful. Felt like you were dancing just for me."

The tears kept flowing, the world kept quaking.

"I was," she whispered. "Even when you weren't there."

"Thought you was just teasin' me. Seemed such a tough girl." He gave her one of those short laughs, a cynical scoff that said he wasn't easily caught off balance. "'N then you turned out to be sweet as a pie. So bloody sweet. Swept me right off my feet."

She pulled back a little and saw that his eyes were liquid too, the pale lashes fluttered over bloodshot, melted chocolate, but no tears came out. It was like he didn't quite know how to cry, like that skill had been tortured out of him, never to return.

"Nothing lasts. Especially if it's something good and pure." He ran a thumb over her cheek, catching a tear, like he was soothed by seeing someone crying the tears he could not. "Really wanted this to last."

Her lower lip trembled at that, and she had to fight back a whole bawl that threatened to erupt. He was stupidly eloquent when he wanted to. But he was also blind if he couldn't see that no one else but him had tried to end things this time. How could a man so mature and smart be so stupid?

"You're the one who walked out the door, Simon."

He blinked a few times. Yeah… He was that stupid, even if he was sharp and trained and brave. But it was also stupid of her to think there wouldn't be problems. He had built a wall, five-foot thick, since childhood. She had tried to penetrate it with a needle and had had a fit when it wouldn't budge.

"Look... You can't just come into my life and fuck around and fuck with my head — and fuck me… and then leave and say Darling, it's dangerous."

He huffed a laugh at her imitation of him. "You make me sound like a jerk."

"That's because you are."

A sigh. "Right."

She had expected him to return the quip, make some clever comeback, but their love had been on ice for weeks and weeks. Even if the warmth was there, and he was close, so close… Something was still wrong.

She pulled herself back to the solace of his chest. There were broken things inside, and she was a brittle vase herself, barely able to hold all the sorrow in.

"Why do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"Comes with the job."

"I hate your job," she mumbled in his shirt, and he chuckled humourlessly.

"Me too."

"No you don't. You love it." She sent another accusation in the air, and the penalty was an open prison, a slackening muscle around her.

"Guilty as charged."

"Why are you here, Simon?"

There was a pause, one, two breaths…

"Can't fuckin' live without you."

He had no doubt tried, tried to veritably leave her from fear of setting her in danger. Only Simon could leave a woman for fear of losing them…

"Even if I only get scraps and slaps. Phone's full of look at me's but you never call."

Her eyes flared wide open, her lungs ceased working for a second. Five months flashed backward, then forward, their shared moments twisting and turning, words finding new meanings.

Scraps…

You never call.

Jesus Christ.

It was bitter, and it was true. She had guarded her heart like a prisoner of war during a time of peace. Sent him thirsty selfies like they were the only thing he wanted from her, refused to call in fear of losing some game.

He wasn't the only one who was proud and dramatic. She had had a whole month in her hands. She could've called him, sent him those texts. She could've made it known that she hadn't meant her last words as a command for him to get out. But she had done none of those things. Instead, she slammed the door in his face and slapped him when he finally came back with his tail between his legs.

It was never about his job. She could deal with that. It was about the game.

They were both boneheaded, proud little creatures, and she realized she was the one who had been playing, playing for far too long…

"You said you'd rather call me," she whimpered, voice barely even a whisper.

He pulled her away by the shoulders and took a quick scan. There was patronization and pity, and she wondered whether he would take the blame for her failings too. But the pain was more profound than that.

"Sarah. Do ya even like me?"

Of all the things said that night, said ever, that was probably what hurt her the most.

"Yes," was all she managed to say to the man who was, in truth, the love of her life.

"Alright. Then I don't see what the problem is."

He was being reasonable, but there seemed to be a whole other problem she had never acknowledged. Had never even known existed.

And it was a rare, rare thing, that he chose to break first.

"Sarah, bloody fucking-... It kills me to imagine you with someone else."

All in.

As if she could ever find a man like him. As if she could even see other men. They had ceased to exist five months ago.

Just say it.

"I don't want someone else," she said, knowing that games like these should be illegal. But she was not playing anymore. "I only want you. Remember?"

The wall cracked, crumbled a little, exposed some softness in those chocolate eyes.

"Now that's what I like to hear."

Annoying, lovable, cocky bastard. This time, it was her turn to pull him in for a kiss.

He let her take some of his clothes off but then seized the reins from her again by hauling her to the bedroom like a doll. Everything happened right according to a script: she was undressed, tossed on the bed, and he was climbing on top of her before she could even say his name.

He just wouldn't allow her to touch him. She had given him one and a half blowjobs, one handjob, and slapped him two times. They cuddled every now and then. That was basically it.

He was always on top, had fucked her against this and that wall, fucked her with his clothes on half the time. He initiated everything, made her feel good, and so, so subtly prevented her from touching him. Did he even know he was doing it, or was it subconscious?

This would have to change.

Past torture or not, it would change now.

"Simon," she placed a hand on his chest when he was already inserting himself inside her.

"Hm?"

"Can I be on top?"

Something akin to worry flickered in his eyes, but it was only a brief glitch that soon changed into an intrigued look.

"Why not," he tried to hide the remnants of his bafflement, then crashed to the bed beside her. She flicked the table light on as if making it clear that this was the dawn of a new era. He gave it a hasty side eye, then turned his attention back to her.

"Have you ever heard of Adam's first wife?" She asked when she climbed on top of him. God, but he was wide, even though men were supposed to have narrower hips. Simon was a man in his prime, threatening, even when lying under her in a seemingly vulnerable position.

"You givin' me a history lesson too?"

"She was banished from Eden because she wanted to be on top during sex." She tried to seek support from his chest, knowing it would be of minimal help. If he would get too enthusiastic, she might be bucked off.

"I won't be so cruel," he said with a soft smile as he ran hands over her thighs, then up to her waist, hesitantly. Simon never hesitated.

From what she understood, he was far from a footsoldier. The people he killed never even heard he was coming for them with a thick, ugly blade. Perhaps he preferred to fuck like that, too: stealthy and intimate, in the darkness, keep his victim in a sturdy embrace so he could feel how they bled to death.

That light was a threat. Her stare was piercing awareness: also, a threat.

And it was only now, from this position, that she finally caught the wounds. Fresh, ugly holes that should've probably been under bandage still.

"What's this?"

There were not one, but two cavities surrounded by discolored skin, bruised dark purple, virtually black — gunshot wounds that had barely missed his liver. Had the bullets reached the internals, they would've likely been the end of him.

"That's the reason why it took so long."

Shallow breathing was a stupid response from a body already feeling faint. But the next few breaths were just that: an attempt to sustain the flow of oxygen and allow reality to sink in.

The last time Simon had gotten hit was years and years ago: a bullet to the arm, not nearly as severe as an abdominal wound. She thought they used bullet vests at work. Unless he had chosen not to wear it. Her brain was a horrid thing, pushing a clinical sentence out of a psychology journal to her mind.

"The root cause of self-destructive behavior can stem from a mental health condition such as depression: overwhelming sadness and loss of interest."

She had drowned herself in self-pity in her cozy little apartment and taken revenge on a shower gel bottle while Simon had gotten himself wounded, nearly killed. Probably spent the last few weeks in a hospital after the operation in whatever medical facility he had been brought to from the field. Without telling her, stubborn and proud as he was. Lying there, with no visitors, thinking it was better to leave her alone…

She knew he had a death wish, but this… This crushed her soul.

"Soap said I should ask you to marry me instead of trying to prove something by killin' myself."

Shit…

More edgy, dark humour — but her insides shuddered.

The axis of melancholia turned and turned. She hadn't told anyone about them, but Simon had. So that someone could deliver the message if need be. Even the thought of a Scottish jarhead appearing at her door and telling her how Lieutenant Simon Riley had been killed in action made her eyes sting.

Soap was a clever man. Much more intelligent than the one between her thighs.

"What am I to do with you," she whispered while placing the lightest, faintest touch on the stretched skin around the injury. The muscles rippled underneath her fingertips, and a soft hiss drew her attention back to his face, but the discomfort was hidden from view before she could decide whether it was caused by her words or her touch.

"A few ideas come to mind," he spoke with his everlasting cheek, even when healing from both gunshot wounds and a broken heart. "Wanna hear?"

"How about you shut your mouth for a change," she offered, gently enough to make it clear that some things should be fixed with another kind of communication.

When she reached to guide him inside her, he was uncommonly solemn. The dry spell had ended at the door already, but that drowsy, flaming rust of a stare caused the cup to overflow. She was slippery as hell, but he was patient, mostly having a ball watching how she went through trial and error to get him in. The intimacy made her flustered, and that stern expression soon turned into a smug one as she fucked up guiding him in smoothly and with finesse.

And it was wishful thinking that Simon would keep his mouth shut.

"Ya need help with that?"

"Shush," she said, knowing it was futile, a laugh bubbling in her chest as she tried to sound convincing with the command. As if she could order someone like Simon around.

He broke again when the thick of him finally pushed in, slow and steady like a reverie.

"Always so fuckin' tight 'n wet for me…"

"You can't just shut it for one minute, can you," she breathed while gliding down the cock that spread her wide — and God, she had longed for that familiar invasion.

"Not with you, sweetheart."

She had barely even started when she saw how his throat worked, then felt him tighten the grip on her waist.

"Did ya have others while I was away?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

The muscles on his jaw tensed, then unwound with a sigh, the heavy-lidded eyes making him look like a man about to pass out.

"Neither did I. Seat's already taken."

The jesting, his laugh, their togetherness — she had missed it so much that it physically hurt.

But at the same time, it felt like they were meeting for the first time. This time with more than just their clothes off. Everything was…amplified, and not just because the lights were on. This was not a lazy Sunday morning fuck under the sheets.

She had been squashed against his chest, but she had never traced the muscles with the tips of her fingers, watched how his nipples grew hard at the contact. She had never quite seen how his jaw clenched, how his abs pulled taut just from a slow roll of her hips. Her hands looked tiny, dainty, when they swept over him – a man made weapon – all corded muscle and uneven skin, tone changing with the map of old and new scars, fresh scratches here and there, ill-healed burn marks and whatnot coating a skin that had seen more than just rough weather. He didn't treat his body like a living, breathing thing; it was simply a tool.

Her past boyfriends had been just that. Boys compared to him. It wasn't just his size, that he was older than her. It wasn't even the map of scars spread over muscles built to withstand and wage war. It was just something so inherently him, a maturity, ripe survival, toughness that came from another age entirely.

She tried to be worthy of him, make love to him in return for all the favors he had so generously given her.

He appeared to enjoy it with the most laid-back attitude she had yet seen on him. She had prepared for intensity, as always, a bit of devilry, but not for that daydreamy stare. That absorbed, blissful look could only be compared to someone easing down on a divan, waiting to be served wine and grapes like they were some Roman deity. Or, in his case, on a lush sofa, waiting for his girl to bring him a scotch after a long day. Maybe take his boots off, and his pants too, kneel and take him in a warm, wet mouth…

God, she was fantasizing about blowing Simon while riding him. But she'd be damned if she didn't serve him that back rub with a happy ending as soon as she had ridden him to the finish line.

"Should do this more often," he noted evenly, echoing her thoughts – and trying to grasp some sliver of control by telling her he liked this. Liked being served.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Can't complain."

And she realized now that she wasn't the one in charge, no. He was looking at her much in the same way as he did when she was up on that stage. Only, he was now both the stage and the pole… and the audience.

Fuck.

Every time she tried to get in control, he did that rear choke on her. Even this turned out to be another counter technique. He was simply enjoying her take her pleasure.

The notion didn't cause fires anymore, other than a flare of licking heat down to where they were joined. Her inner walls had decided that he was a keeper too, gripping him so violently that the tendons on his neck became visible. The callous of his hands traveled upwards to her ribs, and she caught a thought of how he could easily crush her if he wanted to — but he only proceeded to hug her waist with an iron grip to join in the show.

"Keep doin' that and there's gonna be a real mess," he said, voice thick, sending more heat trickle down her spine.

"Isn't that always the case with you?" She was on the brink of laughter now, because it felt stupid that it had taken her so long to enjoy this man to the full.

"Yeah… But you love it. Admit it." He wasn't bulldozing now. Just enticing, eyes glimmering from seeing her so evidently happy.

And she did admit it. She didn't hold back at all. She allowed him to see exactly how much she wanted and admired him, how good he made her feel.

The account started as a steaming, almost pissed-off checklist, a confession rather than a declaration of love. It contained pent-up love and hate, from how he fucked her in the dark to how he drove knives to a wall she didn't even own. But then it turned into a hymn. Nevermind ego; she wanted to stroke his heart and soul. He fucking deserved it.

She told him he was a good man, the best man she had ever known. How she had never loved anyone like this. How she was his, had been from the moment he came to that club. She even told him how big he was and how she had trouble concentrating in class because of it. That she had trouble focusing pretty much anywhere.

How she had cried herself to sleep in his sweatshirt every night after he had left… How she wanted him to never leave again — how she wanted to solve every argument they would have from now on with a hatefuck instead.

At first, he looked at her curiously, probably thinking she was joking. Then his expression turned to a choked-up stun.

“Sarah– Fuckin’ hell…"

Every secret thought from the past five months was laid out before them; every little thing she admired about him from body to soul.

It seemed to be a shock treatment, a little too much all at once, but he was true to his word and didn't complain.

"You're gonna make a grown man cry 'ere."

He didn't cry, but if there was still some invisible wall between them, every last brick was blown apart at this point.

The poker game was finally over, the whole table was cleared of cards and chips and bets.

"Do you even like me… Unbelievable, Simon," she said as a final notion. There was a soft smile, but it wasn't arrogant or vain in her eyes anymore. Just proud, pleased.

God, had she been stupid.

She descended to celebrate, to seal it all with a kiss. He welcomed her with fast allegiance: arms went around her as soon as her breasts pressed against his chest. It was all hunger, but ten times more tender than the starvation at the door. Slow, deliberate, and it went straight to her cunt, gripping him — and of course he responded with a groan, straight into her mouth.

His hips jerked up to meet her, and had she not been in the safe custody of freakishly strong arms, she would've fallen off her ride. And it was high time to investigate whether he had a vulnerable spot in his neck as well.

A sluggish, flat-tongued lick up the column of his throat and some open-mouthed, sloppy kisses sent him contracting from the middle, pushing in, balls deep. She risked a nib, even a soft bite, and eventually, went a bit feral on that neck. It was another jackpot for the both of them.

"I need-.. need you on your back," he had never stuttered like that, out of breath, trying to be polite with a raspy throat. But he wasn't really asking, and it wasn't really mannerly. It was actually a demand.

"Wanna fuck you hard," his voice was so low that it was almost a growl.

Yes. 

Yes. Yes, please.

And she knew just the trick that would ensure that he did.

"Hmh. Denied," she said to his neck, and waited for the punishment that was brief and thorough.

"The hell it is."

He rolled over and switched their roles without even pulling out, and just like that, her feeble attempts to be the rebellious first woman turned to dust. But she didn't really mourn the loss. Her Eden resided right here.

"You're such an asshole," she was laughing from mirth and love and the joy of being pressed under that safe weight again.

"Would like to fuck that too someday."

Oh my God..-

She wasn't a blushing lady from Victorian times, but this was a little unexpected, even from him.

"Bet you're even tighter down there… I might just pass out."

Her jaw must've fallen an inch or two, her eyes no doubt shot full of shimmering glee because nothing, absolutely nothing escaped him, and her face was now more than that of a stupefied goldfish.

"I suggest you close that pretty mouth before I-"

She cut him short by sinking nails in his skin — more precisely, his ass. He arched his back with the following thrust, even exposed his throat with a satisfied grunt.

"Lil' wildcat… I could do this all night." It was a pleased chuckle, and her heart hurt — she was constantly calling him annoying, an asshole, a jerk, and he told her she was beautiful, sweet, his girl, or a little wildcat in return…

"Would ya like that?"

She could only nod, time and again, and the sex turned messy, noisy and unhinged, weeks and weeks of frustration and longing dissipating with fucking that spread her thighs wide and made the whole bed wail. Her head hit the frame once or twice before he moved her with an annoyed grunt while she was having a laugh about it, but then she remembered he was injured and that this was a bad idea.

"Your wounds-" she tried to stutter amidst a pounding that had certainly been held back for longer than five months, not to talk of a few weeks.

"I'll live."

She was close, but so was he, and it seemed it was the most difficult decision he had ever made: to choose whether to slow down and grit his teeth or just give into the temptation and spill. A split second, and he chose the latter, and she must've been gawking: all that muscle towering over her went tense, the halved slant between his pecs sheened with sweat.

He came with a long groan and a head rolled back, the tension leaving him in shivers before his head fell back down, chin to the chest. The stare behind those heavy lids was unfocused, heady, drugged.

"Fuck, you're a glorious sight," he said while sweeping a hand over her sternum and closing the giant palm around her throat — nothing brutal or rough, just a little bit of fun that probably shouldn't have made her tighten around him as furiously as it did. It felt like she was one of his victims, held in place by one hand only, as his gaze dropped down to marvel at how his cock disappeared in her and came out all wet. The thrusts were erratic and desperate, the ending throes of ecstasy — must've been a glorious sight indeed.

He wouldn't even pause to enjoy the trip back to earth to the full. He left her, eyes both determined and drunk, cock still half hard, so abruptly that a sad little whimper fled her. But he wasn't gone for long, just settled next to her and gathered her in his arms, wracked with purpose.

She gasped when not one, but two fingers dipped inside, then drove deep to the knuckle.

"Fuck…"

"Will do."

It was a scant substitute for his cock, even with two thick fingers. But he was good, so damn good that it didn't matter.

He did everything right, perfect, precise. Made a mess of the cum that joined the wreckage, played with it, slathered it all over her until she was sticky and wet and the noise was well-nigh filthy.

But even more unbearable was the intimacy, the way her hand found him, the bunching muscles on the forearm, the thumb brushing her clit, his fingers curling in a loose fist while two of them curled inside her…

She wanted to participate, feel the fierce connection that had gained a whole new level. There was a sense of belonging, merging — did he feel it too?

Yeah, he definitely did.

Their gazes were locked, but the depth in his eyes wasn't hunger or will to dominate or even meant for fishing cues, it was pure surrender, actually, it was… love.

"Please," she whispered while he made love to her with both his hand and those eyes, not knowing why she even said that. But he had told her he loved it when she begged, so that's what she did. She would give him every fucking thing he wanted.

The sweltering bronze of his eyes broke a little, his brow gave a minimal tug.

"Simon - Please," the words were a mouthed prayer rather than an audible whisper, and she knew her own gaze was fractured because the warmth in his eyes only spread.

"I got ya," he crushed her in a devout hug while spreading her open, breathed into her ear, all joking gone. It was a solemn pledge, a guarantee.

"Promise I got ya."

This wasn't affection anymore; it was bonding.

She came with a strained whimper in his neck, curled into the hug with thighs trembling and hands grabbing whatever she could: a sheet, a tight muscle. He was an absolute genius for not moving, just stayed inside as her muscles sucked him in with a long, hungry pull that turned into a shudder that went through her whole body.

"Uh, fuh-…" She was cursing, sobbing, coming apart by the seams, and he took it all in, breathing high and wide from witnessing what he was doing to her.

It was a slow and tense shattering but turned messier after: into sloppy writhing and moaning, and he moved gracefully to ride it out with her. An absolute ace at what he did.

He might've said something, cheering her on with That's it or Fuckin' beautiful or something like that. She couldn't hear it, and it didn't really matter anyway. The looting was sweet, and he was the perfect fit, so fulfilling, still inside her after the waves had passed. They were breathing into each other, holding the space, sustaining the present moment just by being entangled together, all limbs and breath and sweat on sweat. When he ultimately pulled out, the hand joined the one wrapped around her, holding her like the most precious thing in the universe.

Her depression was gone, the man supporting her being a better cure for her condition than any kind of antidepressant ever invented by Western medical professionals could ever be. There was no fear, only a terrible will to live, a hunger for love and life.

It felt too lame a thing to say: I love you, in that kind of a moment. But something needed to be said. It wanted to come out like a wild thing from a cage.

"You brought me back to life," she whispered to the pulse on his neck, tasting both their salt, feeling like crying again, but this time for a different reason. "When we met. And every day after."

He was calm and still, frozen in time, but she could feel his heart thundering underneath that chest. Fast and overwhelmed.

"You're good at so much more than just killing people. I hope you know that."

The world could use another flood, but he chose to be the floodgate, chose to fight back mass destruction and death and darkness while looking like it. A hero, if there ever was one.

Simon didn't just take lives. He saved them.

"You saved my life, Simon." She stirred a little to look at him, wholly stripped of all his masks.

"There.. Finally shut you up."

He swallowed, and a steady hand brushed the nape of her neck, dissolving the tension if there still was any left.

"Yeah."

The soft silence covered them like a blanket until he bore even deeper.

"I'm glad you could finally join us."

And she realized he was talking about the Game. Their game. The poker game.

She had been a player while he had been here all along with palms facing upwards, with no cards at all. Just waiting for her to catch on.

"Yeah. I'm here."

"'Atta girl."

The kiss was gentle and slow. He grunted in her mouth, and when she withdrew to look at what was wrong, he opened and closed his jaw, then rubbed the side of his chin that had begun to swell a little.

"You hit hard for a historian."

Oh God.

She felt bad, but not bad enough to suppress a chortle.

"Remarkably hard for a woman. Almost dislocated a jaw," he continued when he saw she was laughing at the whole situation.

"I hope it swells real bad," she chuckled. He cast her a look that said So much for sweetness.

"You're ruthless."

"Do you need ice?"

"A kiss'll do."

She didn't deny him that kiss. She wasn't that ruthless. But after that soft peck, she turned to whisper in his ear.

"You deserved it."

He scoffed lightly, gave her a squeeze. It was the middle of the night, but it felt like the midsummer sun was shining.

"You deserve the best."

"And you're the best?" She asked, while they both already knew he was.

"I try to be."

That was probably the most humble thing she had ever heard him say, but then again, when had his arrogance ever been ego? He had always delivered. He was a soldier, but he was not a killer. He was a protector.

But if he would protect her by leaving her in peace, she would start a war of her own.

"Then don't leave me."

"Never."

Her heart skipped a beat, then fluttered flush against her ribs like an overjoyed bird.

"Is that a promise?"

She caught a smile, cocky, but only because he knew he was the best man for the job. He was best at what he did, and it had nothing to do with games.

"It's a vow."

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Ya know? I ask for angst a lot but today I'm changing it up.

Could I get a fluff short from the Lion Adam au?

Adam was taking a nap near the window on a giant pillow that Luicfer had gotten for him. The Hell's sun was nice and warm he didn't want to leave.

No wonder cats loved sleeping in the sun so much, it was fucking great.

Lucifer came in after he was done with his little shopping trip and was happy to see Adam laying there.

Lucifer: You asleep pretty kitty?

Adam peaked an eye open: I was.

Lucifer: I got something for you if you're interested.

Adam got up and made his way over, he was always interested in free stuff. He gasped when he saw the bottle in the bag.

Adam: Oh that's fucking awesome where'd you find it?

Lucifer: Down in Envy. Should keep that maine of yours at bay.

Adam smiled, it had been giving him some trouble for the last little while.

Adam: Thank you Luci.

[dontspillthefrijoles43]

Lost hero XIII- Breisa

Crashed landing…why would a flying dragon land that way?

Warning: Minor injuries, broken ankle, teenagers being teenagers, demigods being clueless Word count: 1557 Summary: AHHHHHHHH! 💥Crash! .....I think I broke my ribs...

Likes ❤️, Reblogs🔁, and comments 💬 very much appreciated!

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Breisa used to have a habit of being clumsy and tripping. 

She figured nothing beat free falling through the air at the speed of sound.

Far below she saw city lights glimmering in the early dawn, and several hundred yards away the body of the bronze dragon spinning out of control, its wings limp, fire flickering in its mouth.

A body shot past her—Leo, screaming and frantically grabbing at the clouds. “Not cool!” 

She tried to shout. But the force they were falling at knocked the wind out of her lungs. All she could manage were short gasps. 

Breisa had to think fast of the next best thing. She focused as hard as she could to try to levitate. 

But the fear of being pulverized into the ground was just too much. 

Something caught her arm and yanked her close—Jason and Piper. 

Piper screamed “You have leveled out! Stretch out your arms and legs!”

As the fall slowed down, she felt power coming from Jason. Whatever he was doing was working—but they lurched up and down like on a bad carnival ride. 

“Hav…get...Leo!” Piper yelled through the winds.

“...rough!” Jason shouted.

‘Wait what?!’ Breisa thought.

And they shot through the air like a bullet. 

Then whump, a warm body slammed into Breisa—it was Leo. She grabbed him as best as she could but he still wriggled and sweared.

“Stop fighting!” Breisa shouted, “It’s us!” 

“My dragon!” Leo yelled, “We gotta save Festus!”

An explosion rang below them. A fireball rolled into the sky from behind a warehouse complex, and Leo sobbed, “Festus!”

Jason’s face turned different colors of red and purple, he was straining himself too hard to keep them afloat. 

They bounced like going down a giant staircase, hundred feet at a time.

Breisa's eyes were straining against the wind—she could barely make out a factory complex where Festus crashed. It was made up of warehouses, smokestacks, barbed-wire fences, and parking lots lined with snow-covered vehicles.

Jason groaned, “I can’t—“

 And they dropped like stones. 

They hit the roof of the largest warehouse and crashed through into darkness. 

—

“¡HIJO DE PUTA!” Breisa swore. 

She landed on, now smashed—wooden crates. Pain shot through her ribs.

Jason's voice called in an echo, “Where’d they go? Where’s Piper?” 

“Ow, bro!” Leo groaned, “That’s my back! I’m not a sofa? Breisa?! Piper?! Where'd you guys go?!”

“Here.” Piper whimpered a few feet from Breisa.

“I’m right here too!” She forced herself up, and made her way towards Piper. 

Breisa stumbled a bit but found Piper trying to get up from a metal catwalk. But her left foot was pointing the wrong direction.

“¡Aye güey!” Breisa winced and helped her sit up.

Footsteps rushed up the steps beside the catwalk. 

Leo began to ask, “You two okay?” Then he froze as he saw Piper’s foot. “Ohh, no you’re not ok.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Piper groaned.

“You’ll be fine.” Jason tried not to sound worried. His voice failed him. “Do any of you have first aid supplies?”

Breisa rummaged through her bag—she found a bottle, pulled it up, and it read ‘antibacterial cream’. “Um, This could work? If the bone was sticking out..”

“Uh…” Jason turned, “How about you Leo?”

He dug around his tool belt, pulled some gauze and a roll of duct tape— which seemed too big for the belts pockets.

“How did you—” Piper tried to move her leg and winced. “How did you guys get those things?”

“Magic.” Leo and Breisa said in unison.

Piper raised an eyebrow. 

“My sister gave me a magic supply bag.” Breisa explained. “It works.” She was pleasantly surprised. 

“Magic tool belt.” Leo said, “I haven't figured it out completely. But I can summon just about any tool out of the pockets, plus some other helpful stuff.” He reached into another pocket, and pulled out a tiny tin box. “Breath mint?”

Jason snatched away the mints. “That’s great Leo. But can you fix her foot?”

“I’m a mechanic. Maybe if she was a car…” He trailed off.

“I think I can.” Breisa piped in. She tried remembering some of many first aid lectures from her aunt. She kneeled on the catwalk—slightly above Piper. “I’m going to need something to keep the pain away.”

Leo snapped his fingers at Jason. “Wait, what was that godly healing food they gave you bro— Rambo food?”

“Ambrosia dummy.” Piper said through gritted teeth,“There’s some in my bag, if it’s not crushed.”

Jason took her bag, and managed a ziploc bag with smashed pastry squares. He passed along.

“Here.” Breisa broke off a piece and fed it to her.

She relaxed a bit and demanded, “More.”

Jason frowned. “Piper, we shouldn’t risk it. They said too much could burn you up.”

“I’m guessing that should be enough for the pain anyway.” Breisa glanced at her awkwardly pointed foot. “I should set your foot.” 

Piper didn’t look so relaxed anymore. “Have you ever done that before?”

“Oh yeah bunch of times.” Breisa lied. “Leo,got anything I can use as a splint?”

 He found an old piece of wood and broke it in half. Then he handed her the gauze and duck tape. “Espero que sepas lo que estás haciendo.”

“I do…mostly.” She mumbled. “Jason, Leo— hold her leg still. Piper, this might hurt.”

Breisa counted to three in her head and snapped her foot in place.

 Piper shrieked, and sucker punched Leo in an arm—who screamed in a higher pitch than her.

“Fuck off.” He swore, catching Breisa trying to hold her laughter in. 

All together, they wrapped up Piper’s leg in makeshift splint. 

“Ow.” She winced, “Maybe next time we shouldn’t set my foot before the painkiller? That hurt like a bitch.”

“That hurt? Geez, beauty queen!” Leo rubbed his arm. “Glad my face wasn’t there.” 

“Sorry,” She said. “And don’t call me ‘beauty queen’, or I’ll punch you again.”

Breisa smiled, “You both did great.”

“We all did.” Jason passed Piper a water canteen. “Everyone else good? No server injuries?”

“Just some scratches.” Breisa waved off, but her side throbbed. She winced and clutched it. “Maybe a couple of bruises.”

“Definitely a bruised ego.” Leo was still rubbing his arm.

Jason handed both a piece of lemon squares.

It tasted like her dad’s arroz con leche. She felt the pain ease a bit.

Snowflakes fluttered through the hole in the roof.

Breisa just realized how old and abandoned this warehouse is.

Half broken tools around the floors and rusty machines. There were metals and wood materials in different directions. The place was tagged with graffiti. 

“What happened to the dragon?” Piper asked. “Where are we?” 

Leo’s expression turned sullen. “I don’t know with Festus. He just jerked sideways like he hit an invisible wall and started to fall.”

‘Hope you enjoy your trip demigod!’ The voice from the dream echoed. Breisa shuddered. 

Leo pointed to the logo on the wall. “As far as where we are …” 

It was hard to see through the graffiti, but  she could make out a large red eye with the stenciled words: Monocle motors, assembly plant 1. 

“Closed car plant,” Leo said. “I’m guessing we crash-landed in Detroit.” 

Breisa wondered how he would have known that. But he was the mechanic, she would second guess him. “How far is that from Chicago?”

Jason spoke,  “Maybe three-fourths of the way from Quebec? The thing is, without the dragon, we’re stuck traveling overland.” 

“No way,” Leo said. “It isn’t safe.” 

 Piper nodded. “He’s right. Besides, I don’t know if I can walk.”

Breisa butt in. “Four people—Jason, you can’t fly that many across the country by yourself. I’m not even sure I know how to magic us there.”

 “Right,” Jason said. “Leo, are you sure the dragon didn’t malfunction? Mean, Festus is old, and—”

“And I might not have repaired him right?” He puffed out his chest defensively. 

Breisa put her hand on his shoulder. She gave a look to both of them.

“I didn’t say that,” Jason protested. “It’s just—maybe you could fix it.” 

“I don’t know.” Leo sounded crestfallen. He pulled a few screws out of his pockets and started fiddling with them. “I’d have to find where he landed, if he’s even in one piece.” 

“It was my fault.” Piper spoke suddenly.

“Piper,” Jason said softly, “you were asleep when Festus conked out, it couldn’t have been your fault.”

“Yeah, you’re just shaken up.” Leo agreed 

“You're in pain. Just rest.” Breisa tried to put her at ease.  

Piper’s guilt only grew. She looked like she wanted to say more but she swallowed her words.

 Leo stood. “Look, um, why don’t you two stay with her? I’ll scout around for Festus. I think he fell outside the warehouse somewhere. If I can find him, maybe I can figure out what happened and fix him.” 

“It’s too dangerous,” Jason said. “You shouldn’t go by yourself.” 

“Ah, I got duct tape and breath mints. I’ll be fine,” Leo said, a little too quickly. “You guys just don’t run off without me.” 

Leo reached into his magic tool belt, pulled out a flashlight, and headed down the stairs, leaving Piper and Jason alone. With Breisa.

“I’m going after him.” She stood up awkwardly, “Uh scream if any trouble.”

“Be careful.” Jason called. 

Breisa gave a thumbs up and rushed down the steps. She took a deep breath and plunged out into the snow.

__

(A/N: Post again sometime again this month, sorry of my lack of motivation 😭, hoping to finish this fic before spring [April] . Hope you all enjoy this chapter :), did not plan on leaving another cliffhanger for too long)

[the-faramir]

Extinction Curse Session 2024/06/26 (part 1)

The Siege of Willowside

Day 4 (Part 1)

Lysander and Midori got up in the morning and prepared for the day. On their way back into town, they encountered Zookdar, carrying a bottle of green liquid.

Midori shouted to get his attention. "Zookdar!"

"Where the fuck were you, man?" Lysander added.

Midori continued, "Yeah, we really coulda used you an' your gnome wisdom down there yesterday. You just kinda left. Where'd you go?"

Zookdar shrugged and hefted his bottle. "Lookin' for Mountain Dew."

Midori arched an eyebrow. "Mountain…what?"

"Mountain Dew," Zookdar explained. "It's a new kind of drink."

"Oh," Midori followed along, "like one o' those phosphate sodas that they make at Windy's?" She threw out her palms and shook her head. "Wait, wait, never mind that! You left in the middle of a mission. To go back to town. During a food shortage. And a siege. To get a refreshing beverage?"

Lysander added, "Yeah, what, are they paying you for a product placement?"

Zookdar changed the subject. "Don't worry about it. What did I miss?"

Midori took a deep breath and began to summarize, gesturing wildly in front of herself along with the story. "Okay. Here's the deal. So we were fightin' those zombies. They got out of the force cage, but we defeated them. An' you remember that one cave off to the left when we first went down the stairs? With a foot of water on the floor?"

Zookdar nodded. "Yes. It looked suspicious. I'm pretty sure it was a trap. Wait, you didn't go back there, did you?"

Midori nodded vigorously. "Yeah. We went back. IT WAS A TRAP! The mouths! They came outta the floor! They came outta the ceiling! A STALACTITE ate McBuffington!"

Lysander interrupted, "Wait, wasn't that a stalagmite?"

"No, no," Midori corrected. "Stalactite has a C. For 'ceiling.' Stalagmite has a G. For 'ground.'"

Lysander rubbed his chin. "I thought it was 'stalacTITEs hang tight onto the ceiling and stalagMITEs hold things up from the floor with their might.'"

Zookdar piped up, "Wait, McBuffington's gone?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Midori redirected the conversation. "We were worried that the cave might be a trap, so we sent her in first. BIG. MISTAKE. An', an' then came the mouths. With all the teeth. Grabbin' us. Immobilizin' us. An' we struck back but didn't hurt 'em! But we managed to get out an' run away.

"So then we went to that dead-end alcove an' we found a secret passage."

"SECRET TUNNEL!" Lysander belted out as he strummed his lute.

"An' we went through," Midori continued.

"THROUGH THE SEA CAVES!" Lysander belted out again.

"Yeah," Midori kept on going, "an' we ended up goin' up stairs into a library. With a faint circle of runes on the floor in the center."

"Leading to a SECRET SUMMONING CIRCLE!" Lysander finished.

"Right. 'Course we knew it was for summoning somethin' big an' bad. The books in the library had lotsa information about what I saw in my nightmare. Some big ol' water lizard. An' something else about a mukradi: a giant, three-headed centipede monster that can pull you apart—"

"Pull you apart like bread," Lysander added.

"Yeah, so Lysander here," Midori elbowed the skeleton in the ribs, "was all, 'Let's deactivate this before somebody triggers the trap. I know occultism. Touching the rune won't hurt anything.' So he tries to deactivate a rune. Guess what happened?"

"He triggered the summoning," Zookdar sighed.

"HE TRIGGERED THE SUMMONING!" Midori shouted. "A wild mukradi appeared! It was all like, 'ARRRRARRARRARRAARRR!' an' we're all like 'HOLY SHIT! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!'

"Anyhow, ya know that halfling comic who does those shows with the chase scenes with the yakety saxophone music playin'? Y'know, Benny Underhill? Well, that music started playin' at full volume in my head as the rest of this unfolded. The mukradi starts chasin' Lysander. An' Buffy's with him. He tries to outrun the mukradi, but it can swim! An' Lysander's leadin' the parade through the other rooms, attractin' the attention of all the other monsters who end up followin'. An' he ends up tryin' to ride Buffy to freedom. Buffy collapses, but Lysander keeps runnin'. We all heard this metallic crunch, an' I think that's the last of poor Buffy.

"But we made it outta there an' locked the door to the sea caves an' came back to town for the night."

"Wait, wait, wait," Zookdar held up his hands in front of Midori. "So there's an interdimensional horror down there, hopped up on whatever potions Buffy was carrying inside of herself and thirsty for blood. What's stopping it from coming upstairs, running amok through the town, and pull-apart-breading everyone?"

Midori blinked and pointed a thumb back toward the general store and said, matter-of-factly, "The padlock."

Zookdar slapped his palm into his face.

"Anyhow," Lysander went on, "I think I've made my quota of bad decisions for a good while. Why don't we ask you what we should all do now? What do you say?"

Zookdar pondered things for a moment, then decided, "We're goin' back in! We still need to rescue the Vengaboys and get whatever's down there to defend Willowside."

Midori shrugged. "Sure, why not? All o' those critters have probably…bled to death…or something by now."

"Oh," Lysander put his hands on Midori's and Zookdar's shoulders, "and something important that you all should know that probably should have before we got involved with that mukradi." He moved his clothes to expose a golden rib. "This is what I call my 'good luck boy.' It ties me to the Material Plane. If I fall in battle, somebody can cast raise dead or resurrect or whatever on it and I'll just come back. Remember that if I ever try to get the Big Bad Evil Guy to single me out so you can escape."

Assured of their impending success by the presence of the mighty Zookdar, the three adventurers trekked back to the general store to complete the mission. Without any support whatsoever. Midori danced along, singing "We like to party. We like, we like to party! We like to party. We like, we like to party!"

Midori took the lead down the stairs of the general store into the storeroom, noticing a strange-looking, small, blue-skinned figure wearing a cloak. On hearing Midori's footsteps, he turned around to face her. She noted his draconic face with a magnificent long beard.

Gasping with excitement, Midori ran to the figure as the others filed down the stairs behind her. "Oh my gods, are you a kobold?!?" She bounced up and down, smiling.

"Yes, my child," the figure answered.

"Midori!" Lysander hissed a loud whisper to the kitsune, "You can't just go around asking people if they're kobolds!" He turned to the kobold and spoke normally, "I'm sorry for my friend. Are you one of those little dragon folk?"

Zookdar looked the kobold up and down. "I'm gonna call you 'Rawr Uwu'!"

Slightly confused, the kobold responded, "I go by many names, but you may call me that."

Midori muttered to herself, "Awww, look at the li'l guy with his li'l beard! So adorable!"

A discussion ensued. The kobold had come to the storeroom to check on the two parties who had entered the sea caves but had not been heard from since. He pointed to the footprints on the floor in the back storeroom, which he had unlocked, and noted that one set went down the stairs only, where another set went down, returned, and exited. "It saddens me that the cowardly second party ran like this. It seems that they were too ashamed to even report back to the mayor."

Zookdar interjected, "Yes, uh, I'm new. It's my first time here."

Lysander picked up the thread, "Yeah, we're new here. We're not the party that fucked everything up. Midori just rounded us up and brought us here today. Right, Midori?

Blindsided by the deception as Lysander interrupted her kobold adoration, she could only say, "Uh, uh, I abstain?"

Lysander pointed at Midori. "See? She can't even put a sentence together."

Midori cleared her throat. "I am Midori, the ringmaster of the Circus of Wayward Wonders! Of course, you've heard of us."

The kobold replied, "I have. Yes. I heard that something happened to your tent the other day."

Midori nodded. "Yes, that was an attack of the xulgaths, the same ones who now prepare to lay siege to Willowside. They attacked our tent during a performance and burned it down!"

"Well met, Midori," the kobold continued, "I am known by many things, but The Redeemer seems to fit me. Here is my pet velociraptor." He indicated a dinosaur the size of a large dog that had just emerged from the shadows.

Lysander commented doubtfully, "Hmm. Kind of big for a velociraptor. Looks more like a deinonychus to me."

Zookdar suggested, "Could it be a utahraptor?"

Midori shook her head. "No, those are a lot bigger."

The Redeemer repeated with emphasis, "My. Pet. Velociraptor."

Lysander pulled Midori and Zookdar over into a quick huddle. "Hey, we've been fighting dino riders the whole time we've been in Willowside. You think this raptor is safe?"

Midori nodded. "He's clearly friendly. And kinda cute."

Overhearing the conversation, The Redeemer spoke words of wisdom. "Friends. If your city were besieged by horse riders, would you find your allies untrustworthy if they were to ride horses as well? Judge not the other horses."

"See? Friendly." Midori approached the velociraptor. "May I pet him?" She reached out tentatively.

The Redeemer shook his head. "Not if you value keeping your hand." Midori quickly pulled her hand back. "He may allow that when he is in a friendly mood, but right now he might not be friendly enough for that. Let us go down to the sea caves."

"All right," Midori warned, "but let's keep an eye out for the giant, three-headed centipede."

The Redeemer looked at her quickly. "How do you know what lies in store if you have only just arrived?"

"Uhhh," Midori thought quickly, "Aren't sea caves usually full of those things?"

"Hmmph," The Redeemer scoffed, "We shall find out soon enough. Let us enter the sea caves together."

[captainmalewriter]

Wanderlust Pt. 4

Belgium was definitely a favorite of mine so far. Too bad I had to give it up so soon. It's been real fun being the rich and handsome Noe Willems.

Honestly, if it weren't the constant acting, I would've stayed longer than a week. But I was tired of constantly being on guard around everyone. I had my fun, but now it was time to move on, hopefully to a simpler life.

I had my assistant order the ingredients for another body swap potion. I could tell she was weirded out by my request, but she never questioned me further than "are you sure about this, sir?" She was so kind and was always on top of everything without fail, even when her boss wasn't actually her boss. Before I left, I called her into my bedroom and gave her a paid week off. She was so surprised, but was so grateful that she broke professionalism and hugged me out of joy. I was happy I was able to give something back to her. Then, once she left the bedroom, I went ahead and jumped out of Noe. I physically manifested outside of Noe's bedroom. I could hear him talking to himself in what I think was Dutch, but I couldn't understand what he was saying now that I wasn't possessing him anymore.

Oh well. I just went ahead and helped myself out of his estate. It was a simple stroll through the house and out the front door, I made sure to pick a time when nobody was in the house. Aside from Noe, who was most likely still disoriented, I had no risk of getting caught.

Normally, this was the part of the process where I went to some public place and did a stake out until I find my next body. Not this time. You see, being Noe gave me some extra perks I simply didn't have in my previous bodies. I had the luxury of going wherever I wanted whenever I wanted. And during my little trips, I had found a place where my next target often frequented.

I went to the villa on foot, anxious to see if my new body was already there. Surely enough, there he was with his frat bros. They were American college students visiting Belgium during summer break. Good for them! Unfortunately, one of them was about to have their trip cut short. I could see the one I wanted to possess posing for photos while his bros hyped him up.

Bro was fine as fuck. I knew the moment I saw him that I wanted to take over his body. I had a plan for the actual possession, and it was go time.

I hid behind a pillar to drink the potion. The thick liquid went down my throat, leaving the usual bitter taste in my mouth. To be honest, after the 3rd time, you just sorta suck it up and chug it down. I drank the last of it and tossed the plastic bottle off to the side. I turned the corner and there he was, on his phone while his bros were in front of him talking about whatever.

I took a deep breath, and walked up to him.

"Hey, excuse me, could I talk to you alone for a sec? I gotta tell you something I noticed," I told him. He looked bewildered.

"Uh... Sure, I guess." He said after a brief pause.

He then followed me where I took him behind the giant pillar where I drank the potion. I made sure we were far enough to be out of sight, and once I was certain I wouldn't be seen, I stopped and turned around to face him. He was making eye contact with me. Then, with no hesitation, I rammed into him as hard as I could. I slipped right into his body like a wet slug on a rainy day. I noticed the more I possessed people, the easier and faster the jump into someone else was. Soon enough, I could probably just walk into a new body as if I was just walking in through an open door.

I took a moment to admire my new body. My arms and chest were huge now! I could feel the muscle mass this guy had on his body. I flexed my bicep and gave it a kiss, slightly arousing myself as I did so.

"Hey Alex! Where'd you go bro," one of his bros came to where I was.

"My bad bro, some guy just wanted to ask me something. Nothing important," I explained to him. He bought it without even a second thought, and went back to the rest of the group. That's when I knew that this new body was gonna be way easier to possess than my previous one. No need for calculated interactions, just good vibes and chilling with my bros.

***

The bros were only in Belgium for a few more days before we flew back to Arizona. I've never been there before, I figured it's no new country but it was still a new place. Thankfully, this guy lived in a frat house with his bros. Every day was a new adventure with these guys.

Though that wasn't to say I haven't had some time to myself. Let's just say... you know you're hot when you attract both genders.

Everyone wants a piece of Alex Gomez, and lucky for them, I've got enough energy and stamina to go around for everyone. All bodies welcome now that I'm in control, male or female.

The only major adjustment I've had to make was working out regularly. Alex was ripped, and I had to make sure I could keep up with his intense gym routine. Luckily for me, his body's muscle memory basically did all the work for me. All I had to do was tell my body what to do.

What really motivated me to work out was that the bros worked out together in one room. It took me a while to control my staring, but I still got to see everything. A bunch of shirtless muscular men working out together, their bodies glistening with sweat. The room filled with the natural masculine musk of a good workout. Plus, everyone knows nobody is gayer than a bunch of straight guys. All the times the bros smacked my ass or grinded their bodies against each other as a joke... Little did they know how much I loved it all. Who wouldn't wanna work out everyday with the views I got to see?

Summer break will be over soon, then it's back to class for the frat bros. I'll just have to make every moment count until I had to find a new body again. In the meantime, I wanna do a nearly full nude photoshoot with Alex's body. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, after all, he loves the camera and the camera loved him right back.

[tparker48]

Request for Riverdallas

It would be around midnight when josh woke himself up from the aftermath of the party. Nearly the size of tennis ball, he stood amidst of spilt cups as the guys around piled ontop of each other most were bare. "Ooo, note to self, drink water when i get back home. I think i had way too many drink tonight" he groaned as he moved toward his stuff. But could find them. "Great, where'd i put my stuff, it has my key in it. Hmm...the last time i see my stuff...it was with dan" looking toward the mountain of guys, he noticed Dan's curly hair up ahead near the couch. "There he is" climbing ontop of a guys thigh, he walked along them as he hopped from one person to another. Each calf seeming to be thicker than the last as they all looked the hills. But didn't prove too much trouble as he hopped onto the underfoot of Dan.

He climbed up onto the ball of his ankle and began to scan the area. "Come on, come on. I know you put it somewhere around here dan" the pile would look like a mountain range as many slouched over one another. He'd thought It would take forever to find it among them, but a sudden glimmer near the pairs of legs caught his attention as he saw a black strap sticking out from them. "Aha, there you are" he said as he hopped off the ankle to the floor between Josh's legs. He jogged towards his thighs as the sounds of groans and snores echoed from the other side. As he reached the center, he grabbed the strap strap as he saw his bag further ahead. "Finally" he sighed as he tugged it toward him. But it wouldn't budge. "Come on you-" he gave another firm tugs at the strap, but it still wouldn't budge. As he looked further ahead, he saw his bag. Its fabric sticking out from Dan's balls as the round orbs rocked in place. "Oh you've gotta be-" pulling more of the strap, he placed a foot ontop of the orb that pinned his bag as he gave firm presses into it. Its surface felt slippery, as his foot began to slide off.

"Come.on.get.off!" He strained as his tugs became more fierce. The bag soon started to move as the slick surface, made it loosen. With another firm tug, the bag slip out as it tackled into Josh's chest as he toppled over. "Hah! Finally. Now let's get's and...where my key?" He searched through his bag as he moved the bottles and sacks around, but couldn't find it. But he froze as he something shined in his face. His key would be right there in front of him.

Laying there on on the back of Dan's sack just above his orbs. "Of course" annoyed, he climbed onto the shaft as he grabbed the key. But its surface would be sticky as it sluggishly peeled off. " just a little further" he pulled harder as it was halfway off Dan's. Things seemed to be going smoothly as only the tip was left to peel off.

But a sudden shadow would cast over head, Josh's heart sank. A groan echoed through the air as a giant leg planted itself between Dan's legs. Pinning Josh underneath as it surface layed him flat across the back his sack. "Ah come on" he muffled from between. He tried moving out from under them, but the leg behind him wouldn't budge.

Its weight would burrow him further against as his face smothered into the sack's moist skin. Sweat would cover it as it lathered against. Managing to seep its way into his mouth as Josh spat out from his mouth. But it made it worse as the salty aftertaste became stronger. Out of desperation to get free, he managed to squeeze an arm through the a space to the left him as he felt around the leg ontop of him. Patting around the surface as til he felt the thick hairs along it. He grabbed a patch of them as he pull them outwards. The leg would react as grunts echoed to the left of him. Its form thrusting into Josh as his face burrowed deeper into the sack ahead of him. But with another another firm tug, the leg above would move as Josh took in a deep breath of the open air. Tumbling backwards as he landed on the tip of Dan's shaft.

"That..is an experiemce i don't wanna do again" he strained. During his struggle, managed to pull the key off as it layed just in front of him on the floor. "Alright, i got the key. Now let's get out of here before anything else happens" he says as he got to his feet. Cautiously walking along the length as he reached across to get the key. Picking it up, he started to make his way towards his bag, but something felt off. The legs of dan would start to shuffle as groans echoed from behind him.

Before he could react, a hang would come ontop of him and the shaft as it squeezed around the length. Sluggishly rubbing its digits into the sponge like skin as Dan mumbled in his sleep. "Mmm that felt...good" he mumbled as he retracted his hand. Josh now couldn't see anything but pink walls as moves his hands to push outward. But he wouldn't. He started to struggled even more as he flailed his legs around from the outside. Making the shaft jump partially in the air before it thumped down. It only made Dan moan in his sleep as his shaft began to stiffen.

The walls would tighter, the juices inside would to coat inner walls, as the sounds of its pulse echoed around. "Dan!" He muffled from the inside. Rocking the shaft in place before it stiffen the center "wake up!". But his words were barely audible as Dan continued to sleep as the shaft grew tighter. A suction from the inside from the inside soon began to tug on him as the pink flesh from the inside enveloped more of his body. His arms pinned to his sides as they slipped through the lips of the slit around. Then his waist, then his knees. The only thing that was left on the outside were his pair of legs. Kicking aimlessly through against the floor as the fleshy organ leaked pre from the rims of his slit. As they sunk deeper, Dan would turn onto his side as he shaft pointed out from him. Sucking the rest of the Josh into his shaft as the slit clamped back up. "No!" Josh's voice yelped from the lump in the middle of the shaft that drove him deeper. Hiding him from the outside world as the only thing left to trace him was his bag with the key left on the floor.

After four hours, morning soon arrived as the party goers went back to their homes. Dan being among them as he gathered his stuff and went to his room. Shutting the door, he sat there on his bed as he stared at his legs. His bulge beginning to rise underneath his pants as he took it out. Unzipping his pants, he pulled out the length of his shaft as he stroked it firmly. It seemed more excited than usual as he came quick ejaculate. But something seem to clog its path inside as he forced harder up his shaft. A lump would soon appear from the base as it traveled up the length before it all erupted like a volcano. A larger wad of cum bolting out of its as it splashed to the otherside of the sheets. In the center of the puddle, josh would be laying there in the center of the puddle as Dan hovered over him. "Josh? How the heck did end up in my cock"

"You...and I...are gonna have a very long chat about last night"

[billyboyblue]

"I think the carnies are gonna kick us out." Ray mused aloud as Dex sent the 10th perfect pitch in a row flying at the weighted bottles stacked in a pyramid.

"Why?" Dex asked him as the game operator sent him an exaggerated glare, the six bottles practically exploded off the table top. Ray had to hold back an obvious cackle so as not to upset the operator as Dex pointed to yet another overly huge stuffed animal. This time a neon pink dinosaur.

Ray readjusted his already over flowing load of stuffed animals and one particularly aggressive gold fish that Dex had already won him that night. His flat stare could only hold up so long in the face of the bright and wide eyed enthusiasm Dex brandished his newest gift.

"You are a menace Mr. Dex." Ray said against a smile spread wide. "Gimme."

The Rex was stacked on top of the ever growing pile. "What's his name?" Dex asked as he pulled his wallet out yet again.

"Point-rex-ter and oh no! No more! Hand it over." Ray said reaching his moderately free hand palm up for the wallet.

"What? But I wanted to get ya the giant bugs bunny!" Dex pointed at the ridiculously long nearly man sized toy.

"If you try I think the Operator might actually start throwing the bottles back." Ray laughed as Dex handed the wallet over. "How are we gonna ride the ferris wheel if we can't get in with all these."

"We could drop em off at the car. It's not that many." Dex answered as he began picking up his pile of stuffed animals again. He was only barely able to see the top of Dex's eyes and head but his squinting look showed how satisfied with his hunt he actually was. They walked as carefully through the crowd as they could manage with arms full and half buzzed on cheap beer and way too much funnel cake.

"Where'd you even learn to throw like that?" Ray asked, trying to ignore the looks more than a couple of people were sending their way. Yes it may look like they were absconding off with half the fairs prizes, and?

"Baseball as a kid I guess. Some college ball too." Dex answered, peering over his pile and smiling wide.

"Should have gone pro. Definitely would have been a better use of that arm than winning twenty stuffed monstrosities for your- um, for me at a fair." Ray had tried not to stutter over himself but still after a year in the academy together he still couldn't pinpoint exactly where they actually stood in terms of a relationship.

Not that they hadn't gotten close obviously. Nearly a dozen weighted silences and heavy looks and overly dramatic near kisses before being interrupted all sat in the back of his mind. Dex was hilarious and whip smart. He was near top of his class in both books and training and Ray would be dirty liar if he said he hadn't thought half a dozen times of just throwing caution out the window and pulling Dex in for a brain melting kiss but his own cowardice held him back.

The invitation to the fair tonight had been made in private and Dex had looked almost relieved when Ray had accepted. The Potomac fairgrounds were on the fringe of Quantico county, less than an hour away, but as they'd driven away from the academy, and their well meaning but nosy friends, and eagle eyed instructors, Ray had felt the pressure of expectations almost disappear. It was mutual as far as Ray could tell. Dex's shoulders dropping the slightest bit as they left eyes and ears and whispers behind. His smile while almost always there, was softer and brighter and more genuine.

Dex's whoops of delight after every accuracy game won were nearly addicting to Ray. He couldn't remember after a year of friendship ever having seen Dex as carefree as he had all night. It's how Dex managed to talk Ray into accepting all the animals both real and stuffed. If it meant Dex smiled wide enough that his eyes squinted way too adorably to be legal, then he'd take on any stuffed parenting duty needed.

The parking lot was full but unusually quiet compared to the sounds of rides, games and screaming children. Dex's pickup was near the back and closest to the exit.

"I uh..." Dex started to say as they started pouring their piles into the bed of the truck.

Ray turned to him and waited for him to continue but saw him leaning against the truck, eyes down, hands in his pockets. Taking pity on both of them Ray stepped closer fish bag in one hand and wallet in the other.

Silently, he pressed the wallet into Dex's hand. Looking into his swimming crystal blues lit by the lights of the fair as beautifully as Ray could ever imagine.

Dex's fingers closed around the wallet and Ray's hands slowly, softly. His eyes searching Ray's.

Ray counted time in breaths that seemed to take forever. One, Dex stepped closer still. Two, he lifted a hand to Ray's face, holding it almost reverently. And three, they met in the middle with nothing said and nothing needed.

Dex's lips soft and careful as they pressed against Ray's. The kiss was delicate and yet nothing could have broken it short of an earthquake. Which, funnily enough, was exactly what it felt like to Ray's thundering heart. It felt like the earth itself was shifting beneath his feet. As if it were rearranging itself to encircle them and protect them from everything else. It was shifting to conform to the press and movement of every individual breath they shared, now coming faster and harder as the kiss became passionate and nearly wild.

Dex's tongue tasted like cheap beer and powdered sugar but for all the chasing Ray did it was ambrosia.

When they came to a pause their breaths were heavy and cheeks stained red not with embarrassment, but with more than a little excitement on both sides. Dex was pressing Ray against the side of the truck, knee high and between Ray's thighs and although the wheel well wasn't particularly comfortable, he'd definitely not mind sticking around here and continuing.

Dex however had other plans.

"Still up for the ferris wheel?" He asked stepping back, hand out to take Ray's.

"Um yeah, Bullseye was looking forward to it." Ray answered, taking the warm callused hand offered tentatively.

"Bullseye?" Dex asked, turning slowly and leading them slowly back to the fair entrance.

Ray raised his Fish bag. "Bullseye."

Dex's laugh was intoxicatingly addictive to hear and Ray loved to hear on the worst day. Now, after knowing just how talented Dex was with those lips, he would definitely be needing to hear that raspy giggle hourly.

As Dex looked back to him, eyes soft, smile small and cheeks flushed in delight Ray couldn't help but want him all to himself. Hide the man away from the world. And now as they walked hand in hand towards the rainbow lights, finally, he could have him.

headcanon where dexray used to go on dates at those fairs that have tents where you throw a ball at something and you get a stuffed animal and dex always gets them for ray sOMEONE WRITE THIS