#every time i see the stream of dirty water down the road when walking home i just kneel over and cup it in my hand and sip it

[kathegoose]

alright i don't think i can even post this one here. it's worse than mimic making out with mimic

i recommend you don't see under the cut near anybody else (seriously) 🏍️🏍️🏍️💥

...JUST KIDDING,

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS FROM REGINALD IN PANTS✨

thought you were gonna see some hot endo action? you must be a real real gnarly fool to think that

(drew and scheduled this post 28.3.2024, i'm coming prepared!)

[gretavanlace]

Decorum and Refinement

Jake Kiszka/Oliver Reed x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, degradation, praise, foreign objects, fingering, oral sex (f/m r), terrible English accent/diction (bc come on, it’s Oliver), etc.

“Do you think you guys’ll ever do the whole masterclass thing again?” The thought, that has been bouncing around in your mind for most of the drive home, spills from your lips before you have a chance to think better of it.

His head swivels over in your direction, but you keep your eyes on the road. “I dunno.” Lazily, he sips at the whiskey he shouldn’t be enjoying in the passenger seat. “Why? That’s a strange question.”

“You would know.” You smile, stealing a quick glance over at him. He looks sinful, relaxed back in his seat, legs spread wide, cut-crystal glass he stole from Josh’s sweating in his hand.

“Why would I know?” He grins back. “Are you trying to imply that I’m strange?”

“No!” Your inflection is exaggerated to showcase the lie. “Would I ever say something like that about you, Jake? My beloved. My prince. Love of my life. Keeper of my—“

“Oh, shut up.” He laughs, cutting you off. “And stop dodging. Why’d you ask?”

Now it’s your turn to shrug. “Just making conversation.”

“That’s not true at all.” He challenges. “You never speak just to make noise. Like that about you. Now, out with it.”

“Cal.” You sigh dreamily. “That chef’s hat really does it for me. And when he yelled at the fly? The aggression? Irresistible!”

“Yeah?” He’s in on the joke and playing along. “Verbal attacks against insects kink? Wonder if there’s a name for that?”

“Oh sure…there’s a convention every year, too. You should come scream at some ants with me.”

He takes a long swig of his drink, draining it to the dredges and then lowers his tone. “Yes, thank you, darling. That sounds lovely.”

A shiver tickles up your spine as Oliver peeks out, but he pretends not to notice, and you pretend it hasn’t happened.

You’re safe with Jake, and he is always more than willing to dip into uncharted waters with you…but it’s inexplicably embarrassing; this thing you have for his ridiculous alter-ego.

The way he speaks, so grizzled and rough. Seemingly hardened from years of cigars and Jack. Harsh and clipped, unbothered by anyone’s bullshit.

The swagger in his walk, like he knows everyone in the room wants to fuck him and he hasn’t the time to deal with them, but he’ll give ‘em a bit of a show anyway.

The accent. Even though it’s barely passable at times. A cobbled together mix of dialect he’s picked up through movies and travel, and bits that don’t really make much sense at all, at times. But even that seems terribly Oliver. As if he’s said, “Well, alright then, I’m English, but I’m not like the rest of these cunts.”

That stupid cane. That stupid, unbelievably sexy, fucking cane.

~

Now, standing in your kitchen, sifting through a stack of mail, you wonder where he’s gone. Normally he’s a touch clingy after he’s had a round or two, or seven, with his brothers, but he disappeared nearly as soon as the two of you walked in the door.

Likely to his music room to pluck away at an acoustic. Winding down for the night with a vinyl spinning softly in the corner. You’ll go and find him soon, maybe lie down on the crushed velvet couch and let him play you to sleep.

The thought, too cozy to resist, sends you wandering up the stairs, only to find the room dark and quiet. He isn’t there, but the room is so Jake, you’re drawn inside anyway.

It smells of him. The piney scent of gin and sap-dripping trees, beaten up leather, linen, metallic strings…

You wander through, ghosting your fingers over instruments in the moonlight streaming through the windows he fought to leave untreated. “No curtains in this one.” He’d argued. “We’ll let the outside in as it sees fit.”

Your touch lands on a row of guitars, lightly skimming the tops. Electric, acoustic, steel…then moves along to the nomads. The instruments he loves, but leaves to lie in wait. Ukulele, banjo, mandolin, lute, sitar…

A gorgeous, posh, cello waits in the corner regally. He swears one day he’ll teach himself to play it. Just as he promises of the violin resting, beautifully neglected, in its case.

You don’t fault or tease him for these two…if the instrument boasts strings, Jake is drawn to it and hungry to take it home.

“Look at this!” The memory fondly floats into your mind. “It’s called a Balalaika!” He’d reached out for your hand, guiding you to strum over it. “It’s Russian…I ordered it from that place downtown months ago, and it finally came in…listen.” A jaunty little tune had sounded out as his fingers excitedly worked it over.

A soft knock on the open door startles you out of your thoughts and sends you spinning around to find Jake leaning against the door frame.

Only, it isn’t Jake. Not quite…

“So sorry to scare you, love,” He raps the end of his cane against the wooden floor absentmindedly, “But I thought I’d let you know that Jacob is, unfortunately, indisposed for the evening. He thought I might keep you company instead.”

He figured it out. Worked to connect the pieces in that brilliant, pretty head of his. Of course he did.

Gaze drinking him in, you feel parched rather than satiated…he looks like a drunken pirate who has done his best to look presentable for an event at which he fully plans on creating a scene.

Rumpled vest layered over a wrinkled button-up, which is anything but buttoned up. Layers of necklaces swaying gently against his bare chest. Cuffed trousers that highlight the anklet that drives you wild, though you can’t decide why. Scuffed, but clearly expensive loafers made of buttery soft leather…worn out in the most perfect way.

“Look all you like, darling.” He sighs, waving his hand around as though he’s royalty, “I am merely a gallery for the female gaze. Male, too, come to think of it. I suppose I just like to be looked at.”

Your cheeks flush with heat…this is silly, right? So why is your pulse pounding in your ears? Amongst other places… “Jake,”

He saunters forward and tilts your chin up with the glossy handle of his cane “I’m sorry, but I’ve already told you. Jake’s not here. Try and keep up, girl, ‘right?”

Hands now clutched around the lapels of his vest you tuck your chin submissively against his cane and finally allow it to sigh off of your tongue… “Hello, Oliver.”

“Hello, love.” He raises your face a touch higher, until he can brush his lips over yours. “If I wasn’t so fond of our boy, I might fuck his pretty thing right here. His favorite room…his favorite girl,” He reaches down and cups his warm palm over your cunt, “Wouldn’t that be bloody dreadful of me?”

“I won’t tell him.” You breathe, sinking into the narrative.

“Oh, I’ve got a wretched little witch in my arms, don’t I?” he’s walking you backwards now, leading you towards the wall. “Willing to let Oliver slip it inside like a common whore when Jacob just loves you so much? Naughty. Disgusting. Vile.”

The air knocks out of your lungs as your back hits the wall. “Dirty girl thinks she needs a bit of cock, when what she really needs is a priest to absolve her of all this sin. Shall I call Father Sam? You can repent and say your Hail Marys and then ruin all your hard work on your knees for me.”

“Fuck repenting…” your legs wrap around his waist, searching for friction. “I’ll go to hell and burn for you.”

“Wonderful,” he takes pity and grinds against your cunt. “I’ll see you there…we’ll rot together.”

His hand is wandering down now, between the two of you, seeking to disappear into your jeans, which you wish would also disappear. “Jake…please, just fucking touch me.”

“Now, now…” he tsks. “That’s all wrong, innit it, girl? Can you say it right for me? Behave for Oliver and stop thinking with your head, hmm? Think with that pretty cunt… my bet’s she knows who she wants.”

A noise you would absolutely die if you ever had to admit to, sounds out of you. “Touch me, Oliver…please…I need it…”

His fingers inch away from where you need them most, “Where?” He circles your belly button. “Right here? You know, I’m bit drunk, darling…a touch inebriated. So sorry to ask, but, I’ll need you to be specific.”

Another moan of frustration escapes you.

“C’mon then…” now his hands are shoving your shirt up. “Tell Oliver what you need.” He tugs your tits free and a raspy laugh greets them like he’s never laid eyes upon them before “Hello, dolls. Beautiful.”

His mouth is suddenly relentless. Licking and sucking and groaning softly against your nipples as you pant and silently pray for his cock to force him into further action.

“Tell me where.” He mouths around your nipple.

“You know where.” Your hands are in his hair now…tugging and pulling.

He drops to his knees and yanks your jeans down to your ankles, taking your panties along with them. “Well hello, lovely girl.” He growls out, nuzzling his nose against your clit. “Name’s Oliver, and I’m about to show you a fucking fantastic time.”

You’re propped against a wall, in this seemingly sacred room where he creates, writhing and whining with your panties at your feet while he carries on a little conversation with your aching pussy. You wish you could say that you feel badly for it, but you’ve never been the best liar.

“You’ve met my mate Jacob…” he continues. “Nice enough, but…” his tongue swirls over your clit and a sob rips from your chest. “Bit upper crust, isn’t he?”

“Darling…” He looks up, drawing you into the conversation he’s been having with your desperate cunt.

“Our Jakey…does he do this for you? Does he get on his knees to kiss her as sweet as she deserves?” His eyes, clear and unashamed of the depravity of it all, stare up at you.

“Yes…” it trembles out weakly as you try your hardest to force him in closer.

“Ahh…” he sounds very proud of Jake, indeed. “That’s my boy.”

Momentarily, you adopt an accent of your own. “He’s lovely, Oliver. Now, give us a kiss.”

“M’only regret is that I’ve shaved.” He drags his finger over his smooth jawline and kisses at your clit. “Might’ve been nice to smell as pretty as you do all night.”

“Couldn’t find the beard?” You tease breathily.

He winks up at you in confirmation and promptly buries his face between your thighs, sucking softly until your legs are struggling under the weight of your quivering body.

“Take me over to the couch.” You whisper, imagining the gentle kiss of velvet against your flushed skin.

“Sofa.” He corrects as though he’s lord of the manor. Then he’s on his feet, sweeping you off of yours, as if you are the lady of said manor. “You damned Americans. Common. The lot of you.”

He deposits you tenderly, but orders roughly, “Let’s get rid of this nonsense…” gesturing dismissively at your state - half-dressed and disheveled. “I’d like to get on with it.”

His cane has somehow found its way home, nestled in his grip. He catches you staring at it as you hastily strip as instructed.

“That was a mistake, girl…” he taunts. “You should learn to hold those filthy cards closer to your chest. Spread your legs, love. Let Oliver see tonight’s stage.” He bows gently, “I am but a thespian.”

You open wide for him, spreading until your hips flare with a dull ache. “Please, Mr. Reed…make me feel good. Jake never has to know.”

“I think someone who’s about to fuck herself with my cane deserves to address me a little less formally, don’t you, darling?”

The smug smile swept across his lips makes you want to cry tears of frustration…he is just so fucking beautiful. Instead, you moan wantonly at the mere thought.

“Nasty little bit likes that, doesn't she?” He’s really leaning into it now. “Wants Oliver’s cane right in her sweet, pink, cunt? You look so tight, think you can even take it, love?”

He speaks as if he’s never been inside you before…fingers tucked in, fucking against the perfect spot. Cock stuffed inside, making you see stars and wishing for it to never end.

He returns the nod you offer.

“Right then,” he tosses the cane at you and you, thankfully, catch it like a pro. “On with it.”

You’re so lost in him you begin inching the bottom closer to yourself, but he puts a quick stop to it. “No, sweetheart, what’s been on the ground doesn’t deserve the perfection you’ve got there between those thighs. Handle, yeah?”

Eyes on his, you guide the handle to your mouth, licking and sucking it as if you aren’t already so dripping wet it’ll slip right inside.

“Thank you, Oliver.” You fix your fucked out doe eyes on his blushing face.

“What for, little love?” He asks - a bit of cockney coloring that ramshackle accent of his.

“For letting me use your cane.” You clarify with put-on innocence. “I just need to cum so badly.”

“S’that right?” He taps his foot, pupils blown as he moves in closer. “Pretty thing just needs to cum so badly?”

“So badly.” The cool handle of his cane begins nudging at your entrance.

“Go on, then, Miss America…” he rasps. “Let’s treat her right, shall we? Together? Can’t have you running back to tell Jacob I made you do all the work, now can I?”

“Thought we weren’t telling Jacob?” You smile softly.

“Oh, my dear girl.” He smiles right back. “You think he doesn’t know your body well enough to know when you’ve gotten off properly? Even when you’re all alone and you think it’s a secret. He knows, love…he knows.”

“How does he know?” You slip his cane inside and bite back a whimper.

“I’m not exactly in the habit of asking him about his beautiful girl and how he knows when she’s enjoyed an orgasm…but I s’pose I could guess if you’d like.”

“Yeah…” your back arches away from the couch as you slide against a particularly sensitive spot inside with his cane. Fuck, with his cane…the vulgarity of it makes you tremble.

“Alright then, love…” he sinks to his knees before you and kitten licks at your clit. “If I had to make an educated guess - and I’m very educated - I’d venture that you might get a bit…loose limbed, yeah? Languid and gentle. The prettiest baby…”

“Whose fucking baby is this?!” You interject, with the smallest of giggles, because you just can’t help it, and he gives you a look that could kill.

“Settle down.” His fingers swat at your thigh just hard enough to sting.

“Did I ruin the mood?” You tease.

In response, he slides his cane out, replacing it with two long, warm, fingers to find you soaked and squeezing. “Doesn’t feel like you’ve ruined anything at all. What a pretty little wreck she is. How’s Jakey boy ever get anything done?”

Your hands are buried in his hair again, yanking him in until his mouth is kissing, soft and hot, along your neck. “I have to force him to leave me alone. He wants it all the time.”

His fingers are moving inside of you like heaven…circling and massaging against that perfect place, rather than fucking in and out. “S’that right? Just wants to live buried inside this tight little cunt, does he? Can’t say I blame him.”

Grinding shamelessly into his hand, you pitch your voice gentle and quiet, in the way you know he can’t resist “You wanna fuck me and find out why?”

“You couldn’t handle it, darling.” His teeth sink deliciously into your throat until you shudder and pull at fistfuls of his tangled hair. “Oliver’s not got a gentle bone in his body. I’d tear Jacob's pretty girl apart.”

Your shoulders shiver, his voice, like cashmere over sandpaper, huffing so menacingly in your ear. “Oh, someone likes that…” you can hear the half-smirk in his tone, though your eyes have fluttered closed.

“Tell Oliver how much your pretty cunt loves him already. Does she, darling?” You can’t help the way you clench around his fingers any more than you can help the ragged sound that gasps from your parted lips. “Hmm, feels like she does. I said, tell me.”

Tears are burning in your eyes, he’s gotten you so close, but he’s holding back just enough to keep you right there, watching you intently, eyes trained for your body’s tells.

“I need more,” the tears are falling now, and you know he adores every single one of them. “Need to cum.”

Instead, he slows down even more and lessens the pressure. “Does he let you act like a brat, or’s the pleasure all mine? I asked you for something, and I expect you to give it to me.”

“Yes…” you nod frantically, lifting your head to find his eyes. He offers a lazy wink like a smug bastard. “She loves you, Oliver.”

But it isn’t good enough. “Who loves me?”

“My cunt…” you rush on, eager to give him what he wants in order to get what you’re after. “She loves you. Now, please, baby…c’mon.”

“S’right she does. Just look at her soaking my hand so pretty. Sucking my fingers in. Greedy little baby, isn’t she?”

“Please?” You whine pathetically and he hums in approval.

“Love a girl with manners.” He’s teasing now, with both his words and too gentle touch. “Reminds me of a someone I used to know, she’d beg so nicely for my cum whenever she was thirsty.”

Your nails dig into his wrist in warning and it sparks a laugh out of him. “Jacob didn’t tell me you had such a jealous streak, girl. I like that very much.”

Finished with his games, you reach down and find your clit, stroking quick, slick circles over it. Writhing and panting, trying to get there before he stops you.

Rather than scolding, he praises, as his fingers begin moving with a purpose deep inside you. “That’s it, darling. So pretty. Show me what a filthy girl you are. Take what you need.”

“Faster…” you breathe, barely making a sound as your head drops back, expression twisted up in bliss. “Fuck me faster.”

His hand quickens, working into you at a lightning fast pace until your thighs are shaking and the nails of your free hand are raking over the upholstery.

Here, love…” he hands you his cane to grip instead. “Let’s not ruin the velvet, right?”

All thought has sizzled apart in your brain, so you nod aimlessly and grab it up in your frantic grip, squeezing around it so hard it stings your palm, though you don’t much register it.

“Gonna cum,” you manage to whisper.

“Let’s have it then.” He encourages, reaching up to stroke your cheek as he twists his wrist, scissoring those perfect fingers inside your fluttering cunt. “Come on, darling, let’s go.”

That’s what does it. It isn’t his hand, or even your own, that finally pushes you over the edge, it’s those gravley, coaxing words, in that fucking addicting accent. It’s Oliver, he’s what does it.

A near scream moans out of you, and he’s suddenly wrenching the cane out of your hand, only to place it between your teeth; a makeshift bit as he growls into your ear. “Keep quiet, girl. What if he’s back? Wouldn’t want him to hear your cumming all over Oliver’s hand like a whore, would you?”

You thrash and fight through your orgasm beneath him, teeth sinking marks into the wood stifling your incoherent cries.

“S’good, sweetheart. That’s lovely. Plan to shut that pretty mouth up with my cock next. Would you like that? Has he throat trained his gorgeous girl yet? Will you be able to swallow me right down?”

He knows you’re too gone to answer, he’s simply winding you tighter, working you through, but keeping you stirred up enough that you’ll be eager to suck him off rather than float off to sleep, after. Clever, devious, delectable, man.

You’ve pushed him away and fallen to your knees the second you can breathe again.

“Love a pretty girl on her knees.” He muses, brushing the hair away from your blushing face. “My cock hurts from watching you. You’re a dream when you cum, love.”

The metal of his belt clinks into the room like wind chimes as you pull it open. “Can I fix it?”

His response comes lazing out, thick with accent, with a Jack Sparrow wave of his hand “You may.”

You pull his cock into the cool night air and sigh, “Its so pretty.” And it is, it really fucking is.

Licking a warm, wet stripe along the side, you end with a swirl just below the tip, smiling when a shiver rattles through him.

“Is that the spot right there, Oliver?” You purr as if you don’t know. “Does that feel good?”

“Perfect, darling.” A tiny pant of a breath escapes him, making you crave more.

Sucking him in softly with a warm kiss, you wait until his hands find your hair with a tug, and then swallow him down to the base - allowing a gag just to let him feel your throat constrict around him.

With a choked groan, he holds your head still and buries in a little deeper. “So he did train you…or is this natural talent?”

He knows the answer as well as you. And you flush with heat at the countless memories of him nudging further and further down your throat; gently teaching you how to take a bit more each night until you could welcome him in one go without batting an eye.

Still, he pulls you off and tilts your head up by your hair, raising a brow in question.

“He taught me.” You blink up innocently. “I didn’t know how before, but he was so patient with me while I learned. Let me show you.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Jake appears for just a split second before he shakes it off.

Back in character now, he pulls you back down around him. “Go on, then, love. Swallow it down nice and sweet.”

You pull out every stop, every trick in the book. Every little thing that has ever made him moan in surprise, or thrust into your mouth…he gets it.

Your nose is pressed against the soft plush of his stomach when his fingers tighten in your hair. “That’s so good, darling. You’re so good. Gonna hold you still, fuck that pretty face, that alright, love?”

You nod eagerly around him and swallow just to feel his body tense up in pleasure. You get your wish and beam inwardly with pride.

“Did that on purpose, dinnit you, girl?” He hisses, grabbing for the upper hand. “You’re gonna get it now.”

He taps your face, a subtle reminder of how you should tap if you need to stop, and then - without warning, begins fucking your mouth. It’s hard, and deep, and fast, and sloppy…wet sounds that should make you blush echoing through the room. It’s dirty and slightly uncomfortable. It’s all of those things, but it’s perfect.

Staring down at you, with eyes so full of love and lust it makes your heart ache, he nods. “Good girl, darling. Good girl. You look like a bloody angel, cock down your throat, letting me fuck it like this. You just want to make me feel good, don’t you?”

You answer with your eyes.

“S’right, love.” He slides in deep and groans in appreciation when you ripple your tongue. “Again.”

Tongue working him as best you can, you let him hold you there until your lungs are screaming for air. He pulls you off when he feels the slight struggle, lets you catch your breath and then shoves right back in.

When his thrusts begin to falter you grow desperate to taste him, but at the last minute, he yanks free, one hand still tangled in the roots of your hair, the other fisting over his cock.

“Open up.” He demands, sounding weak, and so close you could cry you want it so badly.

Your mouth falls open, and you present your tongue in waiting.

“Gonna feed it to you, girl.” He pants, gritting his teeth. “Would you like that? You want to taste me?”

Resting your hands primly in your lap, you nod. “Yes, please.”

Your little display of innocent decorum while asking for something so depraved sends his end crashing into him wildly. He jerks his cock roughly through it, warm cum spurting into your mouth and splashing across your cheeks and lips.

Accepting it all, happily, you wait until his shoulders slump with a drawn out fuck, before closing your mouth to savor him.

He stares down at you for a long, smoldering, stretch and then tucks himself away before leaning in. “Looks like I’ve made a mess. I’ve been known to do that, y’know. Apologies.”

With a kiss, though your lips are still dripping with him, he straightens and stretches. “You wait here, darling. I’ll go fetch Jacob to clean you up. Not really Oliver’s thing. You understand.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @gardenofgreta @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @dvrkblooms @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @joshkiszkas @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

[tonybina-india-2020]

Day 7 : Vivana Culture Hotel - Mandawa

15th March 2023

Woke up to the sound of peacocks clacking and birds chattering, I forced myself out of bed and into the front of our tent and managed 20 minutes of exercise. There was a cool breeze whistling through the branches of the trees surrounding the encampment and there couldn’t have been a nicer day to do some jabs and crosses.

Dharmendra sauntered up along the path with some chai for us around 7.30am after which we had some breakfast with Rangmala for company.  I petted and played with her for a while trying very hard to avoid her trunk evacuations, however she got me anyway, blowing out a stream of mucus that covered my face and glasses. It was no bother, I just washed my face a hundred times before sitting down for breakfast.

We then re packed, throwing everything into the suitcases, all order has gone and everything was stuffed into both cases on a first come, first served basis.

Jagdish was waiting for us at the Sanctuary gates and we piled into the Toyota and settled back, opened a bottle of water and relaxed for the ride to Mandawa.

There really wasn’t much to see, we mostly travelled on the motorway and only passed a few towns towards the end of our journey.

We turned into an unkempt, neglected, dusty road and bumped our way along it, avoiding the many cows and dogs that found their way in front of us.

It has been a very long, dry spring in Rajasthan and the dust has got into my every crevice, everything I touch has a certain crunch to it and there is a fine sheen of granules on every surface. 

The dust swirled around us and even though the windows were closed I could taste the grit in my mouth and could feel the dust inside my trainers.

Finally we arrived at the Vivana, two fells were sitting idly about probably shooting the breeze but the moment they saw us they both jumped up, picked up an instrument and began wailing some tune.

The door was large, but we stepped through a smaller one and into the most beautiful courtyard, dimly lit and hanging heavy with incense.

Vibrant fresco and murals depicting Hindu gods, flowers and animals surrounded us, I stood for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of pure joy at being there.

We quickly checked in and were led to our room and on opening the door were amazed to see how modern it was, a “ four poster “ bed, walk in shower, however the only nod towards the Indian culture was the seating, a raised platform, covered in a mattress and cushions  scattered about it. Who needs a chair when I could lounge on something so comfortable.

Just as I was relaxing, we were off again to meet our guide in Mandawa at 4pm, a bit late to start a tour but I didn’t really think we would that long, after all it was only a walking tour of the town, mainly to see the fresco’s adorning the outside walls of the buildings.

We were met by a personable young man who confirmed the tour time was around 2 hours and with that comforting thought buzzing around in my head we were on our way.

The town is derelict, half the buildings are either in a state of disrepair or just falling down. The Main Street is a dusty, dirty 10 foot wide road that is home to stray dogs and cows, bulls, and small thin shops on either side.

These shops are  held together by corrugated sheets balanced together, rather like a house of cards and were stuffed into every nook and cranny, every available space was taken by one entrepreneurial business or other .

On we walked, stopping every so often to admire a dilapidated building with a faded picture of a god or cow or train painted on its walls.  Some of the Haveli, which are the traditional style of townhouse in India, were open to us so in we stepped,  admiring its faded grandeur, we were informed that a lot of them were being renovated into hotels. Our guide told us that there were 25 hotels in a town of 18000 people, the reason for this was  because of the many festivals held and also because Mandawa had become a filming location.

We trudged on, walking up this street and down that one, avoiding the potholes, piles of rubbish and pools of water.  The one thing I did notice was that there were no hawkers pushing stuff in my face, in fact everyone largely ignored us, we got a few interested glances but that was all.

It was 6pm and I started making “ I’m tired “ noises but the guide took no notice and by now each building looked the same, each fresco looked the same and each description sounded the same.

I think the final straw that broke me was when after 3 hours on my feet, feeling hot, sweaty, dusty and fatigued, our guide took us into an art shop. It was obvious from the start that this was a ploy to get us to spend some money, however, much to his dissatisfaction we didn’t and in fact Tony made it clear we now needed to get back to the hotel.

So another long trek ensued, by now it was dusk and in the twilight the population of Mandawa came out in force, men were sitting in huddles and smoking, children played  in the street, ladies covered in colourful saris or burka were shopping, their rattan bags overflowing with local fresh produce.

I don’t think I appreciated any of this, I just wanted to sit down and take the weight off my feet because knowing my body well, I knew I would end up stiff as a plank of wood in the morning.

We finally got back to the hotel at 7pm just in time for dinner and the obligatory puppet show, which wasn’t a patch on the one in Jaipur, but we watched and clapped anyway.

[anyoneseenadam]

The Moon Spirit - two

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters

word count: 2.9k 

a/n: oof the plans i have for this series omg!! i hope you like this pls comment and tell me what u think and also feel free to give any ideas/ theories i love getting that sm!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

——————————————————————————-

Finding a place to get a drink was easier said than done.

You had ridden along the cold, barren road for hours – your only company being the birds singing above you, the horse moving below you and the small bundle of content wrapped in your arms who had fallen asleep in your arms in seconds, occasionally yawning widely. And through those hours you had met no one and seen no place to stop.

You eventually had to stop, exhaustion slowing you down. You moved off course and tied your horse to a tree next to a small stream, running a comforting hand through its mane as it drank slowly. You slowly stripped off as well, taking your time as you removed the blood-soaked layers from your skin. Once you were bare, shivering in the cool morning air, you stepped slowly into the stream – swearing enough to make a sailor blush.

However, you relented, running your hands over your skin, wiping away the guards’ blood with a heavy heart as the water turned pink. Your whole body ached, yet you were numb. Men were dead because of you, and - if he hadn’t already – Dorian would hear of your disappearance soon. And then the king would pick him a new bride, and you would be forgotten.

Just as intended.

Amaris was mewling behind you, hungry and cold, wondering why you had left. Or maybe that was just you, maybe you were projecting. You climbed out of the water, pulling your undergarments back on as you found a sunny patch to sit in, allowing the newly risen sun to cleanse away the remnants of the night, drying your skin slowly.

After half an hour of silent tears you picked yourself back up, pulling on your stiff clothes and climbing onto your horse as you set off again. You couldn’t just lie down and die, no matter how much you wanted to, you had to look after your last gift from Dorian, and you had look after yourself.

--

You ended up riding for hours more before you wandered into a small town. Dismounting, you led your horse through the town as you searched for a place to get food and maybe clean clothes, glaring down your nose at anyone who stared to long. Much like Dorian used to.

No. You tried to expel the thought of him from your head, not needing to be swept up in the thought of his forget-me-not eyes, nor did you need to remember that you may never get to look into them again.

What you needed was the tavern you could see at the end of the street.

You pushed through the street, ignoring the townspeople as you moved to the stables beside the tavern, giving your horse rest, food, and water. You hid Amaris in your coat as you moved into the tavern – back straight and head high as you walked.

The bar quietened down when you moved in, a small sprout woman pausing handing out drinks as she stared at you over a high skew nose. The bar smelt of sour whisky and piss, the surfaces barely visible beneath the dirt that covered every surface – the only source of light coming from tall candles that had been stuffed into wine bottles. The curtains over the windows were drawn tight, not allowing any other light in and the people in the bar all looked remarkably similar, tired. The woman behind the bar was petite, with a face alike a weasel and when she spoke you discovered her voice was just as shrill as you expected.

“And who do you think you are?” she moved in front of the bar, walking towards you as you levelled your gaze.

“I’m no one.” You replied, the answer vague enough that she hopefully wouldn’t try again.

“Then what do you want?” she was exasperated as she spoke, and you allowed yourself a moment of reprise as you glanced down at your clothes.

“A drink would be nice,” your voice was curt, tired. The small lady rolled her eyes, moving away as you approached the bar, allowing her to pour you a glass of cheap, hard liquor.

She slid it towards you, and you knocked it back quickly. “Do you also have fresh clothes and maybe some food for me and my cat?”

As she left with an eye roll, a man approached you, his hairline receding and breath fowl as he slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning far too close for your comfort as you trained your eyes forward.

“I can offer you a job,” he nodded his head and you looked over to see his eyes trained on the prostitutes in the corner, “I’ll even offer a free trial. To get you started.”

You felt panic rise like bile in your throat, your entire body tensing as you shoved this man’s arm of your shoulder. You calmed your face – unwilling to let any emotion show as you faced him.

“You couldn’t afford me,” you snarled, pushing down the heat growing in you as the curious eyes of the towns’ folk were once again turned on you.

“You bitch!” the man began shouting but was cut off by the shrill woman’s return. She unceremoniously dumped a pile of clothes in your lap, along with a small loaf and some fish, her gaze expectant.

You loosened the bracelet around your wrist, dropping it into her hand as she stared at the large jewels adorning it.

“That should cover it.” you muttered as you stood, keeping your gaze angry and forward as you shouldered past the burly man. You bundled the clothing and food in one hand, the other still holding Amaris tight to your chest as you left the dirty tavern.

You found your horse again, offloading the goods you had received into the worn satchels on its side – leading it out of the barn slowly, desperate to get out of this town.

--

Dorian was a mess.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely speak anymore. It was enough to lose you, but to then realise that his own father had driven you away. His own father had made you feel so unsafe in your own home that you couldn’t even run to him, his father had made you feel so completely isolated that your only choice was to flee.

Chaol was trying to coax him back into civilised life, his brother mourning the loss of his friend, yet itching to find you. And level-headed as always, Chaol knew that wouldn’t happen with Dorian spending his days drinking or in bed – often both.

But Dorian didn’t know how to cope, he didn’t know how to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was okay. That was your specialty.

Almost a month had passed, and you certainly were nowhere to be seen. You weren’t coming home anytime soon and he was going to have to learn how to live without you eventually.

Every morning he woke up, a part of him hoped it was a bad dream, that you would be asleep in his arms, or giggling and pressing dizzying kisses into his jaw. He hoped one day he would just wake up and you would wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, tell him it was just a nightmare and stroke his hair until he fell back asleep.

But he knew that couldn’t happen, that life wasn’t kind enough to return his bride to him and so instead he chose to numb his thoughts. He ignored the flirty eyes of other woman, unable to look at them in their expensive dresses and jewels without his mind returning to you.

Everyday that passed without you hurt that much more, so when he sat on his throne as Chaol approached him with a beautiful but deadly woman, he decided since he couldn’t have his perfect woman, he must find her opposite. He couldn’t be who he was before – so he must become someone new.

--

You weren’t faring much better. The day you had left the bar, you had ridden all the way to the coast of Terrasan and had climbed onto the first boat to Doranelle. By the time you arrived in the city you had just about sold anything of value on your person and all you had left to sell was the poor horse you had taken away.

By the time it was just you and Amaris, you had acquired a small flat in the city – the walls were bare and there was only simple furniture in it, the mattress on the floor next to large windows, and worn cushions on a makeshift sofa next to a wooden table.

Every night Amaris crawled into bed next to you, licking away salty tears from your face as you pulled the thin, scratchy sheet closer over you – hoping to replicate even a shred of Dorian’s warmth, or the feeling of his arms wrapped secure around your waist. Most nights you didn’t sleep, the bags growing under your eyes as your heart slowly numbed. Amaris would bury himself in the warmth of your chest as your eyes blurred, watching the city move outside of your flat – the noise subdued and calming.

On the third day in the new city you set out to find work, desperate to find something that could numb the thoughts in your mind and make the days easier. Plus you were sick of grabbing the easiest food you could find. You found yourself walking to a library, deciding it would be the perfect mixture of solitude and work for you. And it helped that you had spent most your life reading, many nights curled under Dorians arms as you read your separate books – occasionally reciting a line to the other.

The old man at the front of the library was kind, his face wrinkled from easy smiles, and you could understand why his long, long life seemed so pleasing. The bookshelves were tall, dizzyingly tall, and filled with countless books that you wished you could search through for hours. There were also tall, stained windows lining the walls, letting in the beautiful morning light and showing how the dust danced around the room.

“So what brings you here?” he asked, moving around the desk he sat at and motioning for you to take a seat on the small, cushioned seats next to him.

You sat down gently, back straight but keeping your eyes trained on your neatly folded hands. “I need work, sir. I have very good qualifications and have been educated by the best.”

He laughed slightly at that, “That much is clear, my child. But I asked what brings you here? What is your story?”

You looked up to meet his eyes, unable to stop the pain that they revealed, and he took your hands gently in his warm ones, “The world has treated you poorly I see.”

You felt tears build in your eyes – this kindness so alien to your battered heart you couldn’t help yourself as you let out a soft sob. The man smiled kindly at you, squeezing your hands gently as he urged you to talk to him.

“I was f-forced to leave the man I loved,” you choked out, “his father tried to… hurt me.” Your explanation was an over-simplification, but you feared what may occur if you revealed the truth.

“Was he your mate?” the man asked kindly, and you shook your head.

“I am not Fae,” you explained, and he frowned, passing you his handkerchief as he stood.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, retrieving a small, hand-held mirror, and handing it to you. You took it with a confused expression before looking in, gasping under your breath as you saw your ears had taken on a delicate point.

“I, I don’t- that’s not possible.” You shook your head, eyes wide as they met his.

“Where do you come from child?” he voice was gentle as he took in your shock.

“Adarlan.” You whispered and he smiled sympathetically.

“Then I believe a glamour has been removed recently.” You could feel yourself shaking, the weight of the knowledge hitting you. “Let me take a name dear, you can start work tomorrow, we’ve been needing some extra hands around here.”

“(y/n) (y/l/n)” your voice was small as you stood, shaking his hand lightly. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem and remember when you work you can have a read through any book you like. Aisle sixteen contains many on the ancient spirits.” He looked down to your necklace pointedly and you bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, desperate to not reveal any more than you already had.

“Thank you…” you trailed off and he smiled,

“Albert,” he finished for you. “And make sure to take care on your way home, this city is filled with powerful people, you would be smart to not mix with them.”

You nodded, pocketing the information in your mind, ready to add it to your list of rules.

--

Fenrys was tired. He had just gotten home from a month-long mission and all he wanted was to sleep, however he wasn’t quite ready to face Maeve yet and instead he decided to take a trip to his favourite library before she realised he was back.

He was walking in when he saw you, your eyes red but hopeful and he almost fell over at the sight of you. You were wearing common clothes but held yourself like royalty, head high and gaze ready to tear down a man who so much as looked at you wrong.

What he did next he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he needed an excuse, so he was willing to play his hand a bit. “Excuse me miss, do you happen to know where I could find the tilted goose?” your eyes widened when you saw him, fuelling his ego slightly.

He knew where the tilted goose was of course, it was one of his favourite bars, but you didn’t have to know that.

“Oh yeah, it’s just down this way. I’m walking that way I’ll show you,” your voice was like music to his ears, and he smiled, revelling in how you avoided his gaze, clearly intimidated by his stature.

“Thank you so much…?” he asked, and you smiled, softly, subdued.

“(y/n),” you stared walking in the correct direction, and he grinned.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Fenrys.” He placed a hand to his chest as you laughed lightly.

“Quite a flirt aren’t you?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Can’t help myself, I’m not sure I’ve ever met such a beautiful woman.” He looked down to you as he fell into step beside you, noticing that you were taking a much longer way than needed. “You new here?”

“How’d you tell?” your tone was self-deprecating, and he laughed.

“This way takes about five minutes longer.” He stated and you whirled around, pointing a finger accusingly.

“You know how to get there.” He felt his face heat up as he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Maybe…” he grinned, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you began to storm off.

“See you around princess!” he called after you, almost missing the way your shoulders stiffened momentarily before you called over your shoulder.

“You’d be so lucky!” you replied, pace quickening as he watched you climb a set of stars that led to some run-down apartments.

He laughed, the smiled on his face coming naturally and surprising him. Oh his life was about to get much better.

--

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the pretty man’s company. And you hated yourself for it.

But he was so kind and for five minutes he made you feel normal again, loved again. See you around princess! The words wouldn’t stop replaying in you head. You weren’t allowed to be a normal girl; you were a princess, and you were on the run, and you definitely had no time for handsome men who flirted with you.

You couldn’t betray Dorian like that, he was probably waiting for you to come home. And you planned to. You would build your strength and you would learn to fight, and you would tear the king to shreds.

But for now, you had to settle for getting through each day, and that meant you had no time for handsome distractions. As you steeled your nerves you felt the loneliness settle on your shoulders, wrapping around you like a shadow, and you fought to reach deep inside yourself, finding the sliver of magic that was curled up – dormant – inside of you.

You found it and fought to awaken it, only receiving a shard of the true power. You stood in front of the dirty mirror in your bathroom, taking in your newly pointed ears and watching as your necklace glowed gently, your eyes turning silver as you released a small amount magic, watching as the bright light shattered the mirror in front of you.

Your eyes widened at the loud noise and with a flinch the magic was gone, the only proof it was even there was the shattered mirror in front of you.

You stared back at the cracked reflection and squared your shoulders. You were going to train, you were going to fight, and you were going to win. Even if it broke you.

[silver-tongued-bby]

You're Mine, Chapter 6

You’re the CEO of a groundbreaking drug company in Sweden with a work/life balance that’s more work than anything else. That is before you meet Loki, who turns your world on its head in the best of ways.

Set during the first Avengers movie. This work contains explicit content and BDSM.

Pairing: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, BDSM, Smut, Dirty talk

Word Count: 3,372

You awoke to beams of sunlight streaming through the window. Turning to your side you found Loki’s long form stretched out beside you, lounging lazily with a book. He set it down to smile at you. “Good morning, älskling.”

You shivered at the timbre of his voice, smiling back at him. “‘Morning,” you stared down at the book resting on his thigh, an eyebrow raised. “The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” You read the title while trying, but failing to hold back a laugh.

“What?” He frowned, looking down at you with the slightest trace of a smile playing at his lips. “He’s got a lot of it right.”

Your eyes widened and you gripped his arm. “Is it the part about the dolphins?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he smiled down at you. “Definitely the dolphins.”

“How long have you been up? Wait do you even need sleep?” You furrowed your brow, settling your body closer to his. You brought your fingertips up to draw small circles over his bare chest.

“It’s not a necessity. I can go long periods without sleeping. Lately I’ve found myself reading in the evenings more than anything else,” he brought his hand over to lightly trace your arm with his fingers.

You hummed lightly at the sensation, your eyes closing briefly.

“We should go get some breakfast, älskling.” You opened your eyes to find his tender gaze studying you. “I have a few things in mind for today. You’ll need your strength,” his voice turned sinful as he continued to stroke your skin. It all sent a tremble through you, your thighs clenching.

His eyes traced over your features, a light smile at his lips. The effect he had on you was growing and the little smirk he looked down at you with told you he enjoyed every second of it.

“Breakfast,” he reminded you, sighing as he got up from the bed.

“Right,” you said as you sat up, “breakfast.”

He brought you to a small cafe nearby, with a picturesque view of the water. The conversation between the two of you flowed easily. Considering he was a thousand-year old god he had a lot to say about the current state of global politics.

“I should probably stop by my house this morning- would you like to come?” You asked, toying with the handle of your coffee mug between your fingers.

“Of course,” he nodded, his eyebrow raised. “What I have planned doesn’t require a specific location, though we may appreciate some privacy.” The velvet in his voice returned and you swallowed.

Settling up at the cafe he walked you to the underground garage of his building, back to the lot with the gleaming vehicles.

“Which one, älskling?” He asked, motioning to the cars in front of him, parked beside the Mercedes he brought to dinner last night.

“Oh,” you took a step back to look at the four cars he motioned to. “Are these all yours?” You asked, turning to him.

He nodded, hands behind his back as he watched you admire each vehicle.

“I think we’ve got to go with the jag,” you said, pointing to the deep green Jaguar in front of you.

“Excellent choice,” he mused then helped you slide in to the passenger side.

You jumped when he materialised in the driver’s seat, “Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “wrong god, älskling.” Turning to look at you, “I’m sorry, I’ve been holding back my powers around you though I’d like to stop that now.”

Your heart raced as you remembered what you’d thought you saw last night on the drive home. “What else can you do with them- with your powers?”

He brought his hand up under your chin, looking you evenly in the eyes. “Be a good girl and you’ll find out.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “yes, Sir.”

He gave you a chaste kiss before turning the car on and pulling out of the lot. The drive passed quickly, it was rare to see a large crowd on the roads on a Sunday.

Loki pulled the car up to your empty house and parked it out front. He helped you up the icy steps to the front door, unlocking it the two of you stepped inside.

“Your home is lovely,” he said as you removed your coats and slipped them in the closet.

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I’m really happy with it. My work can really take its toll on me, but I’ve always found peace here.” You led him through the warm wooden corridors, giving him a quick tour of everything as you went. He complimented your design decisions as well as some of the art you’d purchased over the years.

It was rare for you to have someone over who didn’t work for you in some capacity but you enjoyed showing him around, letting him in on the parts of your life rarely seen by others.

You were happy though you had to acknowledge the small part of you that worried about the day he’d need to return to his former life, leaving you behind. You chastised yourself for thinking that, it was best to enjoy your time with him while you had it.

You hadn’t realised that you’d stopped in the kitchen as you mulled over your thoughts, growing quiet as you contemplated things.

“Älskling,” Loki had turned away from the large window overlooking the frosty water, snapping you out of your thoughts. He came to you, gently holding your face as he looked in your eyes. “Where did you go just then?” He spoke tenderly, his eyes searching yours.

“I-“ you felt your cheeks grow hot. “It’s silly,” you looked down and bit your lip. You took a deep breath and looked back into his eyes, “you’re the first person I’ve really let in since I’ve been here- not just to my home but to my life. I’m so happy to have met you. I’m just trying not to get my expectations out of line with the reality of our situation.”

His brow furrowed. “And what’s that?”

“You’re an alien, a thousand year old god,” you laughed. “I can’t expect you to stay here on Earth with me. You have a family on Asgard, and a life you’ll want to return to. I’m worried the more I let you in the harder it’ll be for me to let you go when the time comes.” You smiled pitifully, turning your head away.

“Oh älskling,” he said, his head tilting as his eyes held a sorry expression. He shook his head after a moment. “I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. I have no reason to, I’m happy here. And my family-“ he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “My family thinks I’m dead.”

“What?” You frowned, quickly running through what he told you last night mentally. He mentioned a strained relationship, but not that he’d faked his own death.

He let go of you, turning to face the window once more. “I tried to follow the right path to make my father- my family proud. But it all got turned around when I discovered my true nature.” He laughed bitterly. “I quickly learnt that no matter what I did I’d always be the outsider. My father would never accept me as he did my brother. He’d never let me rule,” he frowned. “That was difficult for me to face,” he took a deep breath. “So, I let myself fall off the Bifrost and into open space. I ended up passing through Yggdrasil- what you’d call a wormhole.”

There was silence as you digested his words, your heart in your throat. You stepped to him, gently taking a hold of his arm. “Oh Loki,” you looked up at him. “I’m so sorry.”

He chuckled, his eyes wet. “I couldn’t stand it-“ he turned his head, his expression pained. “I figured it’d be easier if I were out of the picture.”

You brought your hand up to brush a stray strand of hair behind his ear, your heart heavy.

Taking another deep breath he continued. “I was picked up by a ravager ship,” seeing your expression he explained further, “think space pirates. I made a deal with them to deliver me here- to Midgard. I’ve been here ever since.”

“And how long has that been?” You asked gently.

“A year or so,” he shook his head. “I haven’t told anyone that before.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you brought your hands up around his neck and gave him a hug. “That’s a lot to go through, let alone survive.”

“I wouldn’t do it again given the chance,” he pulled away from you to look in your eyes. “But being away from my family, from Asgard has been good for me. I’d like to stay here,” he gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb. “I’d like to explore this more- what’s between us.”

You smiled, feeling most of your prior apprehension melt away and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. “Me too,” you breathed against his lips. His arms snaked around your waist to bring you closer as he pulled you in for a deeper kiss.

Everything about him made you tremble- his scent, his firm body against yours, the way his hands strongly gripped your waist, the way he kissed you- be it gentle, hard or in-between. You found yourself gasping into his mouth, your core growing wet as he wrapped himself around you, overwhelming you in every sense of the word.

He moved from your lips momentarily, his breath heavy with your own. “Bedroom?”

You nodded and pulled away with a shaky breath in, turning to lead him down the hall. The lights came on, revealing the simplistic design of your bedroom. You turned to him, surprised to find him close behind you. He came closer, his lips almost against yours as he stared into your eyes. He brought his hand to your hip to guide you backwards towards your bed, his gaze turning predatory.

Your calves hit the end of your bed and he brought his hands up to gently hold either side of your face. His eyes searched yours for a moment before he captured your lips with his once more.

After a moment he pulled away and gave you a smile, your clothes and his disappearing with a flash of green. “Much better,” he kissed your shoulder, gently sucking on the skin.

He gripped your waist and turned the two of you before pulling you down on top of him so you were straddling him on the bed. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex. You looked down to see his length between the two of you, already painfully hard. Bringing your eyes back up to him you dipped to lightly graze his lips with your own as you repositioned yourself to be flush against him.

You felt his hard length under your wet heat, and as you nipped at his lower lip you began to move against him. He felt so fucking good- sliding across your folds with ease with help from your excitement.

You moaned, everything about him driving you so close to the edge already. He was firmly gripping your ass, guiding you along his cock.

“That’s it, älskling. Take what you need from me,” you whimpered at the sound of his voice, the timbre of it sending heat throughout you.

He looked up at you with dark eyes as he bent to kiss your nipple, pulling the sensitive flesh into his mouth. You moaned, throwing your head back to further push yourself against him. He dragged his teeth lightly across the sensitive bud and you looked down at him, breathing heavily while you continued to move against him.

“Please,” you breathed, looking back down as your fingers slipped through his hair. You were so close, so close to letting go but you couldn’t let yourself. You needed him to say that you could cum.

“Please what, little one?” His expression was passive as he looked up at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Please- please Sir may I cum?” You asked, your heart racing. You’d tried to slow your movements against him but he’d kept the pace using his grip on you. Every muscle in your body was clenched as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.

“My good girl,” he smiled. “I’m so proud of you, holding on for me. You may cum älskling. Cum now.” He commanded, his teeth gritting together. You came with a cry, your hips frozen in place against his as you twitched on top of him. You relished in the feel of his hot length against you, now coated in your release. He kept his eyes on you as he kissed the skin between your breasts, holding you tight as you came back to yourself.

“As much as I love this view,” he said, gripping your waist before he rolled the two of you over. “That’s better,” he grinned down at you.

Holding himself over you he gently brushed the errant strands of hair from your face. His eyes slipped from yours to trace over your skin and your heart raced, your breath heavy. “My lovely little thing,” he brought his gaze back to yours before bringing his lips to your ear, his breath warm against the sensitive skin. He gently licked the shell of your ear then captured your lobe between his teeth, the sensation causing you to cry out sharply. He chuckled darkly against the skin of your neck, “oh älskling. I love finding new ways to make you scream.” He sucked the skin behind your ear, his words leaving you dizzy with lust.

He brought himself back up to face you, looking as if he could devour you on the spot. You bit your lip and raised your hips against him, whining as you felt his length gently brush through your folds. He grabbed your face, his long fingers firmly gripping your jaw as his hips came down on yours to hold you in place.

“You needy little thing. What happened to my good girl, hm?” He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he waited for an answer.

“I- I’m sorry Sir.” You stuttered, trying not to move as you felt his length press against you. “It’s just-“ you cut yourself off when you saw the warning look in his eyes.

“No excuses älskling. You take what I give you. I’ll fuck this sweet little cunt,” he moved his hand from your jaw to cup your heat, “when I decide you deserve my cock.”

You felt yourself tremble and grow even more wet with his words, and from his smug expression you could tell he felt it too.

“Is that clear, älskling?” He enunciated each word but all you could focus on was the feel of his hand over your heat, so close to where you needed it.

You nodded, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Say it.” He commanded, his jaw strong as he looked down at you.

“I take what you give me, Sir.” You obeyed, your voice small though your heart raced.

“Good girl.” He nodded, then moved his hand from your heat, forcing you to suppress a whimper at the loss of contact. “Now,” he wore a sinful expression, “do you want me to fuck you?”

You eagerly nodded, “yes please, Sir.”

“Prove it. Beg me. Beg me to fuck you,” his voice was deep as he dared you with his eyes.

“Please fuck me, Sir. Please- I need you to fuck me. I’m yours Sir, please.” You rushed out, desperate for him to fill you, to touch you, to keep speaking to you in that raspy tone.

“Good girl,” he brought his hand to his cock and guided it through your folds, gathering wetness and forcing a whimper from your lips. Then he slowly entered you, bit by bit, taking his time as you willed yourself to remain still.

Once he was fully seated inside you he began to thrust, slowly at first, but building to a steady rhythm. Each thrust met a deep, sensitive spot within you that hurt in the most delicious way. Your muscles clenched each time he hit it, and you’d lost your breath to short uneven spurts of air as your pleasure built.

“Oh- oh fuck, please-“ you said, unsure of what you wanted from him other than for his unrelenting thrusts.

He brought his fingers to your mouth and you eagerly sucked them, running your tongue along the pads of his finger tips. His lips curved upwards and he withdrew them, sliding them over your nipple before pinching it between his dampened digits. Your back arched at the sharp pain, your body alight with pleasure- you were close to your finish.

“Sir- I’m close, I’m close,” you said between quick puffs of air.

“I know, älskling. I can feel it. Your tight little cunt is gripping me firmer and firmer,” he let out a breath. “Gods.”

“Please, Sir- please may I cum?” You begged, your fingertips gripping the muscles of his arms as you held on for dear life.

He nodded, “yes. My good girl, you may cum. Cum for me- I want to feel you come undone on my cock.” He rasped out and you came, the pleasure overtaking your every sense. You writhed under him as you rode out your high, and after a few thrusts you felt him twitch inside of you. He moaned as he came, his eyes still locked with yours as you both came back to yourselves.

He smoothed your hair back and gently kissed you before he pulled out, his cum trickling down your thigh. Stepping back, his eyes traced over your spent body, a smile at his lips. “Beautiful.” He said before materialising a damp cloth, handing it to you so you could clean yourself.

You smiled back at him before sitting up on the bed. “Will you come with me? I want to show you my favourite part of this house,” you said, standing up and walking over to your closet to grab a robe. He materialised himself a dark silk robe to match your own before you led him back out in the hall. You pressed on the wood panelling of the hallway, opening the concealed doorway, leading to a series of steps alit with soft light.

You looked back at him- he hesitated for a moment, curious.

You threw him a wink before turning to go down the steps, leading to the bath you’d had custom built. The room was carved out into the rock that your home was built on, smooth but cool under your feet. There was a massive tub in the middle of the room, surrounded by windows that overlooked the idyllic lake. To the side against the stone there was a steam shower as well as a sauna. This was your happy place- few had seen it, only a few close friends who came to visit every now and then.

He stepped into the room, running his fingers along the large tub of hand-carved wood before he turned around, a smile on his face as he took in the room. He chuckled, “impressive.”

“I know,” you grinned as you tapped the controls for the water to fill in the bath. You stepped over to the concealed bar to fetch a bottle of red and some cold water. Setting the bottles on the side table to the tub you retrieved some glasses and poured the wine, offering him a glass as he stepped over to you. He pulled you against him and the two of you looked over the setting sun of the lake.

The tub controls beeped shortly thereafter and you both slipped your robes off before settling into the water, your back settled into his side. He distractedly played with a strand of your hair, twisting it between his fingers. Running over the whirlwind events of your weekend you had a hard time believing this all happened in such a short time.

You sighed contentedly as you rested back against him, your eyes slipping closed.

End Note: This chapter went a little softer than I'd anticipated- next week's will explore a bit more bd/sm themes, I promise! If you'd like more Loki, check out my latest fic: Summer Wine. I'll be posting Chapter 7 of You're Mine next Sunday as well as a new Loki one-shot! Thank you as always for reading.

Taglist (open!):

@fuck-is-going-on

[onetoomanyfilms]

champagne problems (reggie peters x reader)

hi everyone! here’s my first ever imagine and my first contribution to the jatp x evermore collaboration! warning... tissues are advised, maybe? x

inspired by: champagne problems by taylor swift

word count: 2k

the jatp evermore masterlist

——————

There had always been the thought in your brain. That the relationship was too amazing, too good to be true. But you loved him anyway. You fell deeply and truly. So, as you saw Reggie’s heart break in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder how it had ever come to this.

——————

“He’s going to propose tonight.”

“What?” you looked over at Alex. The two of you had known each other since you were little and there was no way he was going to start keeping things from you now. Especially when you were about to ditch the party you were supposed to be getting proposed to at. You were ready to get back into their pjs and snuggle down. Having never been one for parties, not even when they were hosted by Reggie. As much as you loved him, the idea of them didn’t settle right. “He came over to us last week. I’m not going to lie, I’ve never seen him so happy. I think you’d just been on a date or something?”

“Yeah, last Thursday. To that café by the beach.”

“Well, he came into the garage and said ‘I’m gonna marry them’. He’s been a stress head this past week, that’s coming from me.” You chuckled slightly but your brain was ultimately filled with Reggie. He was going to propose. Just at the thought of it, a smile wiggled its way onto your face. “And I was about to go and ditch the whole party…”

“Yeah… I’m sorry I feel like I’ve ruined it now.”

“No, no,” you wrapped your arms around Alex, “you’re the reason we are together in the first place. Nothing could ruin tonight. Not even your blabber mouth.”

—————

Alex had left you to go and help Reggie set up. Sitting on your bed, you felt every positive emotion in the world bubbling away in their stomach. The red flannel shirt Reggie had given you last November was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, the smell filling up your nostrils. Everyone had always thought you were weird, keeping their distance saying you were ‘messed in the head’. Then Reggie came along. His bass guitar, goofy smile and heart of glass came and filled every gap you felt in your life. Closing your eyes, you remembered the night it rained as you were walking home. The lack of a coat or umbrella meant you were slowly but surely getting drenched. Then a Chevy came driving up beside you. You had expected it to zoom past and splash you with the dirty drain water. But it stopped. A recognisable, brown-haired, adorable dork opened up the door. “Hop in.”

Reggie never hesitated to help, never once thought about himself over others. Even when it came to his parents, you would often find yourself climbing the tree beside his window to check on him. Or you’d hear a tap tap tap on your bedroom door and see him standing there, the pained look on his face that you hated but saw too often. But the minute the two of you would intertwine in each others arms, all the problems in the world went away. You were both each other’s escape and home.

Smiling, you gently wiped the tear that escaped down your cheek. 

Now, what to wear.

—————

“Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah Y/N?”

“Can you tell Reg I’ll be a bit later please? I’m gonna take the longer way around, try and escape the midtown traffic.” You buckled up your seatbelt, double checking the mirrors and turning the lights on low beam. “Yeah, sure. Just…” Luke didn’t know you knew about the proposal so had to tiptoe carefully around his sentences, “just, drive safe but don’t be too long yeah?”

“Of course dummy. I’ll see ya later. Love ya.”

“Love ya too.” Starting the ignition, the butterflies fluttered around your body. The streets of LA had a certain romantic quality to them as the sun set. The street lamps igniting gradually, the couples walking hand in hand down the boulevards. So much possibility in this town. But as you drove down the road with love in your heart, others were driving with a little too much alcohol in their system. 

One of which was driving right towards the person Reggie kept a picture of in his wallet. 

—————

Everywhere ached. Nothing hurt really, just as if your body had been pulled in every direction possible. But as you turned your attention to your surroundings, you hadn’t expected you had been pulled away from their body. A couple ran over to your body, the man performing CPR on the chest. “What? What’s happening?”

“Oh, it’s rather simple my dear.” A voice spoke from behind you as tears began to stream down your face. “I’m afraid to say you’re dead.”

“No.” Shaking your head, you began to run around to the people around. “Help! I need help, please!”

“They won’t hear you. Like I said, you’re dead.”

“But I’m here, so, what am I? A ghost or?”

“Yes, you’re a ghost my dear.” No. This can’t be happening. You had just been driving, going to the party. The party.

Reggie.

You collapsed to the concrete floor below. Reggie. He’d be at the party. Talking to everyone. Smiling. Waiting for you to walk through the door. Waiting to propose. “I’m sorry. I sense you were heading somewhere important.”

“My boyfriend. He was going to…” you had to spit the word out, “propose.”

“Perhaps.” You scrambled up quickly, spinning towards the strangers direction. “Perhaps what?”

“Perhaps, I can give you a few more minutes. You know, to say goodbye.” You knew there would be a catch, but you had to say goodbye. Reggie deserved it. “How?”

“I’ll do my work, you’ll have 30 minutes to bid your farewells and then we will meet here again.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch now, darling. You’ll be able to be seen by people as well as touch them. But I can only do 30 minutes.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” You held you hand out to the stranger in front of you, shaking in agreement. “What’s your name anyway?”

“Y/N, and you?” “Caleb, Caleb Covington.”

—————

Reggie had been pacing out back for a solid 15 minutes by the time Luke and Alex came to check on him. They’d been caught up with the other guests and the expensive champagne Reggie’s sister had brought, but seeing their mate in this state was something neither of them could ignore. “Hey bud,” Luke slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, “you ok?”

“Yeah, Reggie, it’s like you’re on a runway or something.” The anxious brunette looked between his best friends. “I’m fine, I promise. I just… I feel like Y/N should’ve been here by now.” They huddled together in a group hug, each one excited for the night ahead. 

But as they spoke out the back, you arrived, waiting by the back gate with this Covington guy. “So which one is the lucky man?”

“Reggie, the one with the goofy smile in the middle.”

“Well, he’s a good looking one isn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah he is.” You stared at the three of them. When you eventually did go, you knew Reggie would be alright because they had each other. 

“So, Y/N. I’ve been thinking.” Here it was, here’s the catch. “Maybe it is best if, if you decline his proposal.”

“What?” You hadn’t even thought that was a possibility. All you wanted was to go up to him, greet all of them and then pretend you forgot your phone in the car. “I’m just saying. He’s going to see you and do it straight away. And if that happens, you should say no.”

“No, I…” but then it struck you. He’d wait for you. He’d obviously find out you were dead sooner or later but, if you said no. Perhaps, he’d move on quicker. It made your heart break even thinking about it, no matter doing it. But you had to put Reggie first. “Anyway, here we go.” Suddenly, with a click of his fingers and a push through the gate, you found yourself standing right in front of the three boys you adored so much. Their faces looking right at you.

“Y/N! You’re here.” You felt a pair of warm arms wrap around their middle, lifting them up into the air. Reggie always acted like an overexcited puppy, it seemed today was no different. As he was about to drop them to the floor, Y/N squeezed tighter. The minutes already seeming to fly by. Each one filled with kisses, hugs and affection. But as you stared into each others eyes, the world around them disappearing from existence, the other two boys looking on at them with heart eyes Reggie decided it was the right time. Little did he know, it never would be anymore. 

“Y/N,” he coughed, clearing his throat a bit before he said anymore. His hand slipped to the box in his pocket, his fingers grazing the leather outside. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now. I know, I’m not the best with words but…”

“Reggie…”

Here it goes. 

“I can’t be with you anymore.” The image of his face in that moment, would be engrained in your memory forever. The heartbreak, the disbelief, the sadness. You’d caused that. You’d caused his heart to shatter like glass. He was speechless. So you had to create the words instead. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met. You stumbled into the room and the whole world seemed to light up. You made my life change completely and I wouldn’t change it for the world. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this to you. A part of me will always love you but I can’t. You’ll find the real thing instead. Someone you can hold everyday and will follow you wherever you go.” You paused, swallowing back the words you wanted to say, opting for the ones that’d let him go. You cradled his head in your hands, wiping the tears sliding down his rosy cheeks. “You’ll find someone better, who will make you realise all of this was just the beginning. You won’t remember today, you won’t remember all of my problems. I mean, you’re playing the Orpheum next week! At 17! You’re too young for all this marriage stuff anyway,” you hesitated for a second, “we both are. You’ve got so much ahead of you. I’m just sorry I can’t be there to live it with you.”

Looking over at Alex and Luke, you nodded slightly. Hoping they got the message to look after him. And you knew they would, with their lives. But also to tell them goodbye. They weren’t Reggie but Alex had been like a brother to you since childhood, Luke filling that role later in life too. You hoped they knew how much they meant to you. Cause they meant the world. You kissed his forehead and turned in your spot. Slowly but surely heading towards the gate. Part of you wanted him to call you back, tell you none of this was happening. But it was, and as you made your way through the gate you felt it all come crashing down. You sunk down leaning against the rickety fence behind, hugging your knees in tightly. 

“Y/N!!”

You heard the shout and the creak of the gate door. Reggie came sprinting through, looking every which way to see where you had gone. He couldn’t see you anymore. That was it. 

“I love you, Reggie. I always will.”

And with that, you stood up. Trying to hold yourself together as you walked towards Caleb. The two of you silently walked away from the scene as two flashing blue lights zoomed past. You did the right thing, didn’t you? He was going to have a full life, a happy life. A long life in which he’d find someone else who could love him enormously.

That’s what you thought at the time. Before the gig at the Orpheum, where the boys met a fate you’d never wish on anybody.

——————

other collaborators in the series: @vanillann​ @pink-flame​ @dxestars​

[ly-canthropewrites]

Trust and Security

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3460 words (I was aiming for 1000, but let’s just say - it got away from me)

Ratings/Warnings: SFW. 

Summary: “Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs” @twdeadfanfic​

It’s been over a month since the prison fell, and your group was weary. After one month of being out on the road, vulnerable and exhausted, your little family finds safety behind the tall walls of the Alexandria Safe Zone. Although, the walls do nothing to cease your skittishness. 

The new folk behind the walls were kind and gracious, but at the same time, naive and inexperienced to what lays behind their safe haven and that worries you. It worries your group as well; everyone picking up on the credulous attitudes and their misty-eyed optimism and it just doesn’t sit right. 

The first few days were difficult, a strange adjustment period. After being used to the wilderness and the danger it includes to now having a proper house to sleep in and call home, it felt, surreal. But after a few days, some of your people begin to relax and enjoy the safety of Alexandria. 

You weren’t one of them, and neither was Daryl. The pair of you refused to believe in this wonderland, a shared acceptance in the belief that this place will fall just like the prison and just like any other ‘safe place’ that stood before. Perhaps you weren’t giving this place a chance? Perhaps it is easier to set yourself up for failure rather than have your hopes high? Regardless of the reasoning behind it, you just can’t get rid of the gnawing feeling of the false safety this place eludes. 

Almost daily, Rick tries to convince you of Alexandria’s potential. He exemplifies the possibility of having a future here, a safe future for Carl and Judith to grow up in, a safe place where there isn’t fear about the dead or the dangers that stalk outside the walls. And almost daily, both you and Daryl turn him down, stubborn in your ways and between the false reality constructed and the abnormal kindness from the residents, you can’t help but feel unsafe. 

You can’t lie, however, that Alexandria does have its perks. You have been here for 5 days already and you have not gone hungry once in that time. It is nice to have a healthy food supply, to have a blanket and a mattress that isn’t damaged or dirty and of course, it is nice to be clean. You have taken advantage of the running water system in the town, taking more showers in the last 5 days than you have in the month and it is a luxury that you allow yourself to indulge in. 

The first time you had a shower you almost cried. Not one for the emotions normally, it couldn’t be helped that day when hot, running water cascading over you, temporarily washing away the trauma and pain of the apocalyptic world. For a moment, you could forget the ones you’ve lost, the agony and anguish every time you’ve had to take a life, the suffering and torture you’ve endured. For a moment, you could just be no-one. 

                                 -                         -                         -

Day six lingers, and the house is quiet. It had been decided yesterday that it’s possible to make Alexandria home and for that, houses were given to share. Rick, Carl, Judith and Michonne moved next door, never too far away from family but it gave them enough space to breathe. A large portion of the group, consisting of Abraham, Eugene, Sasha and Rosita, moved into another house on the same street. The remaining were quick to claim rooms; Maggie and Glenn taking a room as well as Carol stealing the spare. It left you and Daryl with a little bedroom on the ground floor and the lounge room. It didn’t matter, neither of you slept much nowadays and if you did, it was never at the same time. One always had to be on watch. 

It was a silent arrangement, just like how your friendship blossomed. One day you were alone, despite being with the group, lingering to one side, keeping one eye on the wilderness around you as if you were ready to jump up and run into its clutches. But then one day, with no significant event as the catalyst, Daryl grew close, being drawn to your side every time a new camp was set up. Neither of you asked for the other to join, it just always happened. It became an unspoken rule that you were to always be partners. If you were to go hunting, so would Daryl. If you chose to set up your sleeping roll in the corner, Daryl would linger close. If you missed a meal, or gave your portion to someone else, then Daryl would give you some of his. It was unspoken, but it was law. You weren’t to be separated. 

                                   -                         -                         -

Summer had followed your group to Alexandria and the pair of you sat on the porch. Daryl was fiddling with his crossbow, nimble fingers twirling and unwinding certain pieces, tightening this and that, fixing up his bolts before giving the entire weapon a wipe down. He worked methodically, quietly, as if his actions were second nature to him. You shamelessly watched him periodically, fascinated by the sleek weapon and by the rugged man. He was your best friend, your partner and companion. You would die for him and he would die for you. It was simple. It was easy. And he was the single person that never failed to bring a smile to your lips. 

Satisfied with your ogling, you return to your book. It wasn’t yours to begin with. It came with the furnished house and in a moment of boredom, you plucked it from its place with every intention to fill the small gap of monotony. What you hadn’t expected was to become engrossed with the novel, completely swept up in the mythical world it held. 

“Yer almost finished that thing yet?”

Daryl breaks your train of thought, startling you back into the world of reality and you shrug.

“Got a few chapters to go,” you say, flicking ahead to see that you indeed have almost completed the fiction. 

“You only started yesterday arvo’“ Daryl states, crooking an eyebrow in your direction, his hands continuing to work on the crossbow without a visual guide. 

“What can I say, I’m a fast reader. You finished playing with that crossbow yet? You’ve been fiddling with that thing for the past 3 days now,” You are quick to shoot back at him, a smirk dancing across your lips in victory and Daryl scoffs, shaking his head in small amusement as he turns his gaze back to the item in his lap. 

You finish your book just in time for Carol to leave the house, the older woman looking well dressed and holding a container of cookies. Both you and Daryl raise an eyebrow at her, silent questions being asked, and she pointedly ignores them. 

“Have you even had a shower yet?” She asks sternly, giving the quiet man a stiff side glance that he shrugs off. 

“I’ll hose you down when you sleep,” she threatens, “you are filthy Daryl, just take a goddamn shower”. 

You stifle a giggle, biting down on your lip to hide your growing smile but you fail miserably, and a chuckle escapes you. Daryl hears it, glancing over at you with a bored expression but when he sees you smiling, he can’t fight back a little smirk of his own. 

“You enjoy watching Carol take the piss out of me, ay?” he questions gruffly, and you laugh at that openly, throwing your head back to revel in the moment. 

“Hell yeah I do. Who wouldn’t?” you tease, poking your tongue out when Daryl rolls his eyes. 

With your book done, you throw it onto the table beside you and stand up, stretching out your arms as you unfold from your previous position. Your shoulders pop loudly as you rotate them and you groan with satisfaction, eyes closed as you continue to move your body. You miss how Daryl’s eyes selfishly gawk at the sliver of skin that is revealed as you stretch, your shirt just riding up to show the smoothness of your skin and he wonders how soft your body would be beneath his hands. 

His eyes quickly snap back to his crossbow when he hears you hum, stretching complete and body limber. 

“You off then?” he questions, not looking up at you as he speaks, fear that his eyes will reveal things he refuses to say. 

“Yeah, might have a lie-down or somethin’“ 

“Gonna take one of yer ten million showers?” he teases you and a warm flutter erupts in his chest when his words make you laugh. 

“Showers aren’t the enemy, Daryl” you remind him, a smile easy on your lips, but your tone is firm. 

He grunts, explicitly refusing to respond and you sigh. 

“Come shower with me,” 

Those words catch his attention. His head whips up to look at you, eyes wide and stunned. You admire his surprised expression, noticing how his lips part ever so slightly and how he sucks in a shallow breath as he processes your words and intentions. 

“Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs,” you joke, but your eyes convey understanding.

Daryl remains frozen for another moment or two, waiting for the punchline or the taunt but it never comes. Of course, it wouldn’t. He knows you. You aren’t like that, not to him. So, when it clicks that this isn’t an immoral joke and he allows himself to believe your gentleness, he nods, flustered but agreeing. 

You give him a small smile, jerking your head in the direction of the front door before you turn to walk through it, not waiting for Daryl to move. You know he would follow, he has always followed you and he would follow you to the end of the earth. 

By the time he reaches the bathroom, you already have the shower turned on. You have your hand beneath the stream, testing it, determined to have the perfect temperature and it is so unlike you, but at the same time, it is. He has seen you kill walkers with your bare hands, he has seen your unfiltered rage and your grief, and he has seen the special compassion you reserve for Carl and Judith. But it is rare for him to see you this gentle, this soft, this caring. 

You know he is there, standing in the doorway watching you. You felt the heaviness of his gaze the moment he reached the second floor. But you don’t mention it, instead, you hum as you adjust the water before turning around to rifle through the cabinets for soap. The house is a treasure-trove of good items and the luxury of having a shower also extends to bathroom products. There are different types of soaps and shampoo to choose from and Daryl sees you fish out two items; a creamy soap bar and a green bottle. You set them both inside the shower before stepping back. 

“Go on, get in” you gesture to the shower. 

“Thought you were havin’ the first one?”

“And leave you with an opportunity to escape hygiene? Not a chance,” you retort

You know him too well, he thinks fondly. But an uneasiness sets in and you can see apprehension flit across his face. 

“Daryl, you can shower. I won’t be leaving, I’ll be right here” you say tenderly, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid to prove your point. You weren’t going to leave him alone. 

It’s reassuring, as much as Daryl hates to admit it. He isn’t used to having someone stand by him unwaveringly like you do. He hates to admit that he has come to lean on you, come to let you in. You have never pressured him, never forced his hand and for that, you unknowingly have his eternal gratitude. 

“I won’t even look, so hurry up otherwise the water will run cold,” you announce, making a big show of closing your eyes and slapping a hand across your face for good measure. 

Daryl cracks a smile at your theatrics, relief rolling off him in waves and slowly he begins to unbutton his shirt. Your ears strain to listen, to catch a sound so you can guess what he is doing. The rustle of a shirt confirms that he hasn’t bolted, and it makes you smile. What you don’t see is how Daryl’s fingers shake slightly as he works his belt undone as well as his jeans. He is stripping off his layers, both literally and metaphorically, and he hasn’t ever felt this bare, even with your eyes closed. He keeps his eyes trained on you as he edges towards the shower, his back never turning to reveal the ugly past that is marked into his skin and he only feels relief when he has the shower curtain drawn, letting it act as a barrier in all senses. 

He has to admit; the hot water does feel heavenly. His sigh is, thankfully, masked by the sound of the shower and Daryl closes his eyes, tipping his head back and completely embraces the water. He stands there for a few moments, relishing in the luxury and the feeling of his muscles slowly unwinding, and he almost hates himself for putting this off for so long. He is so lost in heaven that he almost forgets that you are still sitting in the bathroom with him. 

He pokes his head out, eyes falling on you and he smiles when he sees that you haven’t moved from your seated position, hands still covering your face but to keep you occupied, you bounce your leg. 

It’s almost as if you know he is staring at you because you speak up, 

“How’s the shower?” you ask

“Are ya comin’ in or what?” he ignores your question, now smugly watching your surprised reaction. 

Gobsmacked, your hands fall from your face, mouth hanging open and your eyebrows raised in disbelief. This is the first time he ever hears you stutter. 

“Wh- what?” 

“Are ya gettin’ in or not? Ya expect me to leave you sittin’ and waitin’ for me?” 

You nod, “Daryl Dixon, I didn’t expect you to invite me to shower with you”

“Sunshine, you did the invitin’ first”

“I never specified if I was to be in the same shower as you at the same time” you respond, shock fading quickly as your confidence returns and Daryl enjoys the transformation. 

“Get in” he mutters and drops the curtain, standing back to leave you some room for when you come in. 

You are quicker to strip than he was and although he knows you are coming, he can’t help but jump when you step into the cubicle. You notice, of course you notice, but as always, you don’t comment. Instead, you smile up at him with such a warm gaze, Daryl feels his heart clench. Silently, you grab the soap bar and lift it up, expressing your question through your look and he nods. You are gentle as you run the bar over his shoulders and down his arms, taking your time to sudd up your hands so you can run your fingers over each individual digit, cleaning them of the dirt and the grime that had accumulated. Daryl was silent during your endeavour but by the quickness of the rise and fall of his chest depicted his nervousness. 

“Tell me if it gets too much” you murmur, eyes flicking to meet his and it amazes him how you don’t pressure him, letting him control his limits. It is his blind trust in you that allows you to be this close to him and you know how hard it is for the redneck to open up to you, to let you close to his turmoil. 

“Nah, s’okay” he mutters breathlessly. 

You continue on to his torso, rubbing the bar in circular motions and its satisfying to watch the water run dirty, revealing more of the gorgeous man in front of him. Daryl fears it will get awkward when you kneel down in front of him, eyes closed as he wills himself not to make a fool out of himself. Either or not you pick up on his anxious, you don’t say, but you avert your eyes from his lax cock, focusing on cleaning his strong legs. When you are finished Daryl offers you a hand, holding it firmly as he pulls you to your feet and once steady, he doesn’t let go. 

“I can leave your back” you offer. The story of the scars isn’t new to you, but their appearance is. He hasn’t let you cast your eyes upon the monstrosities, barely able to look at them himself. 

He is torn, gnawing at his lip as he tries to decide on an answer, but his silence is one you will accept. With a fond smile you shrug, reassuring him to the best of your ability. 

“That’s okay, tilt your head forward, hun” you are quick to move on, distracting him from the dangerous thoughts that threaten to surface, and it works, the pet name is a pleasant sound falling from your lips. 

He obeys, tilting his head forward and closing his eyes as the water runs down his cheekbones. The pop of the shampoo bottle alerts him to your intentions and a sprig of mint fills the steamy air. Your fingers massage his scalp as you clean the brown tresses and Daryl bows beneath your touch. He slumps forward, head resting upon your shoulder in full submission and you pressed a lingering kiss to his temple, fingers never ceasing their ministrations until they begin to cramp a while later. You don’t want to move him, savouring the weight of his body against yours but the suds need to be washed out, so you tap his shoulder. Daryl washes out the remaining suds himself before he looks down at you, guilt suddenly creeping upon him.

“Do yer want me... to, ya know”

Bashfully, he gestures to you, but you shake your head laughing.

“No Daryl, it’s fine, but thank you” you say sincerely, “now, let’s get you out of here and into clean clothes, hey”.

The shower gets switched off and the pair of you emerge from the stuffy cubicle. Daryl grabs the towels first, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. There is no third towel to cover his back and he is painfully aware of that fact, tensing up as he realises that he is closest to the door and will have to turn around to walk out. Once again you amaze him, slipping by to walk out first and Daryl lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

When Daryl appears, he finds you in the small bedroom, stretched out on the bed with your eyes closed.

“Tired?”

“Warm showers make me sleepy” you confess, opening your eyes to look up at the man sheepishly.

He hums and remains standing at the end of the bed, hands tucked into the pockets of the old sweatpants that hang from his hips and takes his time to admire you. He doesn’t admire your clothes, although the sight of you in snug clothes makes the fluttering in his chest go faster; but he soaks in your comfortableness, your trust.

He doesn’t ask if you could move and make room for him, wordlessly you do it anyway when Daryl begins to climb onto the bed. He flops onto the mattress once he reaches the pillow, heaving a sigh as his body melts into the softness of the mattress. He rarely allows himself to sleep on it, leaving it for you to use while he takes the couch or the chair outside on the porch. And just like the shower, he realises how much he has been missing out on. And he is sick of it.

“Yer too good to me, Y/N” he mumbles, and you chuckle, shaking your head before you roll onto your side to face him.

“Nah, just doing what is right”. What you deserve.

You both fall silent, letting the post-shower haze settle over you and allowing your bodies to relax.

You are on the cusp of sleep when you feel Daryl’s hand slip into yours, calloused skin brushing against yours and instinctively you tighten your grip, Daryl squeezing back.

“Thank you” he murmurs.

You don’t say anything, fighting the pull of sleep and with a last-ditch effort you curl into Daryl, his arms sweeping you closer to his chest and cocooned in his security, you allow yourself to drift to sleep.

Alexandria may be weak, but it’s given you a safe haven, and maybe it isn’t all that bad.

[your-eternal-muse]

Home

Summery: After months of being held against your will, you escape into the world, and await for the moment when you can return home.

Warnings: Mentions of abduction, vague mentions of abuse, talk of injury, thoughts of giving up, mentions of weight loss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Authors Note: Wow. It’s been a hot fucking minute huh? Sorry for taking so long. I was moving and unpacking, and getting situated and than I got a new job and so many other things. This is the piece that got me back into the writing flow, so that's fun. I am still working on requests, and while they may not be posted in the order that I received them, they still will be posted. I will also be posting little one shots in between them as well, because my brain doesn’t know when to fucking stop. I missed you guys. I hope you’re all doing well. Also I’m at 950 followers??? That’s insane. I don’t believe it. Anyway, enjoy!

I run.

I run through gaps in between trees, stepping on sticks, ducking under branches.

Every muscle, every bone in my body is screaming at me to stop. To give up, fall to the ground and curl up at the base of a tree and give in to the darkness.

But I can’t.

I can’t stop running, not until I know I’m safe.

Not until I’m home.

The air is brisk, and the leaves crunching underneath my bare feet are different shades of decay.

The sunlight breaking through the canopy does little to tell me what time of day it is, or even what direction I’m going. 

So I just run.

Away from the little wooden house where I’ve been beaten almost everyday for who knows how long.

I’ve lost count of the days.

But I got lucky.

He’s always gone during the day, and I’ve lost enough weight so I could slip my wrists through the zip tie that had me bound.

I’m losing stamina, but I keep pushing forward.

Please, god, give me something, anything.

I stumble through a wall of brush, falling to the gravel ground of the side of the road.

A road.

I push myself up, my steps stuttering as I gain my back my balance.

I turn my head, looking both ways down the seemingly deserted road, and I now believe in a mighty being above because I see gas pumps not even a half a mile down the road from where I’m standing.

I start running as fast as I can, limping every other step, trying to pick up a speed my body has forgotten.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and every breath feels like it’s being ripped out of me, but I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.

I turn into the gravel driveway of the station speeding towards the front door, barreling inside, heaving for air as I turn and lock the deadbolt on the door.

I flip the sign from open to closed for good measure, before slipping down to the floor in a heap.

“Oh sweet baby jesus above, darling what happened to you?” A woman runs out from behind the counter, crouching down next to me pushing dirty matted hair out of my face, hands running gently over my exposed skin.

My voice is hoarse, and my throat burns when I speak.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent y/n y/l/n of the Behavioral Analysis unit of the F.B.I.” I let my head fall back against the glass of the door. “I don’t, I don’t have my badge otherwise I would show you.”

Her eyes are deep green, and kind. Worry creases her already wrinkled face, and her skin looks soft and loose.

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I believe you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Tears start to form in my eyes and I can’t seem to move anymore. “I was abducted by someone we were chasing in May, and I just escaped.” 

A hand comes to cover her mouth. 

“I really need to use your phone to contact my team.” 

She couldn’t be older than 50, with long dirty blonde hair starting to gray at the roots.

I couldn’t help but feel the trust swarm my chest, too tired to put up walls anymore.

“Oh of course, honey. Let me help you behind the counter, and we’ll get you all set.”

She gingerly helped me back to my feet, wrapping my arm over her shoulders to help me sit on a stool behind the counter. 

She makes sure I’m set sturdy on the seat, before handing me a landline from beside the till.

“You use that to call however many people you want, and I’m gonna go get you some water and something to eat.”

She starts to walk away but she snaps her fingers and turns around, grabbing something from the counter and draping it over my shoulders.

It was a fuzzy winter jacket.

“It’s almost November, you’re probably freezing too.”

Her accent is a gentle southern, like a grandma who makes peach cobbler and gives the best hugs. 

I shove my arms through the sleeves, zipping it up to my chin. 

Almost November.

It’s October.

I’ve been gone for five months.

October, and I’m wearing shorts and a ripped tank top.

I look down at the landline and take a breath to steady my trembling hands before dialing the number I know by heart.

Three rings, and he picks up.

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

I start to sob at the sound of his voice, a voice I never thought I’d be able to hear again.

I start to collapse within on myself.

“Hello?”

I haven’t said anything.

I take a breath, wiping my nose on the back of my hand before speaking.

“Hey, Spence.”

It’s silent, and I can faintly hear the sound of something crashing to the floor.

“Y-Y/n?”

“Jesus, I never thought I’d get to hear your voice again.”

“Where are you? Are you safe? Is he there?” He’s frantic, his voice rushed and high.

“I don’t know where I am, but I’m safe. I’m at some gas station. A nice woman is helping me.”

I lick my lips and I can taste the saltiness of my snot. “I got out.” 

“Penelope, I need you to trace this call right now.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

He has it on speaker, and I openly sob at the twinkle of her voice.

“Penelope…” is all I can muster, but it’s enough to hear her gasp, and then her own sob.

“Hold on tight sweet girl! We’re coming!”

I hear typing, and background voices getting louder.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Derek?” I gasp, bringing a hand to the center of my chest and grasping the fabric tight in my hands.

I lean back against the wall as the woman comes up with bottles of water, and bags of different foods.

Tears stream down my face, and the woman pushes hair out of my face, pinning it back with clips from her own hair.

“Is that you stud muffin?” I hope he hears the small smile in my voice.

I hear a shaky breath. “Yeah it’s me sweetheart.”

“I got her! She's a few miles outside of Chattanooga Tennessee!”

Tennessee? How the hell did I get to Tennessee?

“Derek, go tell the others. We’ll meet you at the jet.”

I hear shuffling on the other end as I break the seal on the water, before taking a long, much needed gulp.

“Are you still there y/n?” His voice is laced with concern, and I can picture the crease above his brows, the shakiness of his hands. 

“I’m here.”

“You stay right there, okay? Don’t move. We're on our way.”

The woman hands me a box of tissues, and I take a few wiping my eyes, but my cheeks stay wet.

“God, I missed your voice.”

A moment of silence, and I know he’s trying to collect himself on the other end of the phone, trying to stay strong for me.

“I missed yours too. I called your phone every day just to listen to your voice. I probably left a thousand voicemails.”

The woman opens a bag of chips for me, before kneeling and pulling out a first aid kit from below the counter.

“I thought about you every day. About your voice. Your smile. I just wanted you to walk through the door and say some weird statistic and we’d fly off into the sunset.”

I can hear him choke back tears and all I want to do is hold him, like his pain is somehow my own.

“I tried. I tried so hard, but you had disappeared without a trace. But I never stopped. I would never stop looking for you.”

“I know, Spence. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, and I never will.”

Muffled voices in the background and he sniffles. “I have to hang up, baby. We’re taking off. We’ll be there in a little under two hours okay?”

Two hours.

“Okay. Please hurry.” I close my eyes, picturing his smile in my mind. “I miss you.”

“We will. I love you. See you soon. Hang on.”

The line goes dead, and I bring the phone slowly back down from my ear, hanging up.

I take a chip and pop it in my mouth. 

The woman stands in front of me, and with a cotton pad with alcohol, starts to clean at the cuts on my face.

“What’s your name?” I ask, feeling bad, that in the 20 minutes I’ve been here already, I hadn’t even stopped to ask.

“Luanne, sweetpea. It seems like you got a lot of people that care about you.”

I nod my head, popping another chip into my mouth. “My team. They’re my family. We were on a case in Chicago in May when…”

Bile starts to form at the back of my throat, but I shove it back down with another swig of water. 

I lick my lips, trying to get rid of the sting of the salt in the cracks. “Thank you. For helping me. I know you didn’t have to but-”

“Sweetpea,” she holds my face in her hands, wiping away the tears that are still falling. “You have been through hell and back again. You deserve all the kindness in the world.” She pulls me into herself, and I nuzzle my face into the fabric of her shirt. 

It smells like lavender.

“You’re safe now. Any bastard that tries to come in is going to have to go through me first.”

I clutch onto her shirt, basking in the first kind human touch I’ve had in months. 

She smooths down my hair, soft and slow, and I listen to the heartbeat in her chest.

“You know, you remind me so much of my daughter. She looks soft on the outside, but she’s one hell of a fighter. I think you’d both get along rather swell.”

She stands, and just holds me, running her fingers through my hair, as I soak her shirt with my tears. 

I’m never going to forget her, forget this. 

I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to repay this woman's kindness anyway I can. 

Thank you, will never be thanks enough.

Flashing lights appear outside the window.

~~~

I’m tired. 

My eyes burn with every blink and there’s an insistent pounding matching the beating of my heart inside my skull.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to move.

I’m freezing.

I tighten the blanket around me as medics move around me, getting things ready for when I’ll finally cave and agree to go to the hospital.

But I can’t leave.

I won’t leave. 

Not yet. 

The red and blue lights don’t help the migraine swimming behind my eyes, and everyone is talking too loud.

Why is everyone talking so loud?

My eyes look across the darkening parking lot, and Luanne is leaning against the hood of a cop car, her hands in her pockets, and she smiles at me, her hair blowing softly in the cold October wind.

But I hear fast paced tires on gravel, and my eyes move from her to the two black SUVS pulling into the lot.

I’m moving. 

Thoughts aren’t even processing in my brain, my neurons are stagnant. I’m moving on pure instinct. 

The car door opens before it’s even stopped, and the blanket falls from my shoulders in a heap on the floor of the ambulance.

Time is an illusion. 

It’s completely stopped as my feet meet the gravel, and I push the dirt behind me, moving towards the one person I thought about whenever I got the chance.

It’s just me and him, moving towards one another, two unstoppable forces about to test Newton's law.

My eyes start at his feet.

His pants fall over the top of his chuck taylors, and I’m positive two different socks sit below them. 

Higher.

Closer.

His hips.

He’s not wearing a belt. His holster is crooked. He was in a rush.

Higher.

Closer.

His chest. 

His vest is missing. His tie is loose, and the top couple of buttons are undone.

I can see his collar bones.

Higher.

Closer.

His neck, the bobbing adam's apple.

Higher.

Closer.

His lips, pursed.

His nose, red.

Highest.

Here.

His eyes. 

Deep hazel, honey surrounding darkened pupils, and I fly into his arms.

Ice melts.

My head clears.

I wrap my arms around his neck, shoving my face into his shoulder, inhaling like it is my first breath.

My feet aren’t on the ground anymore. 

He holds me, tightly against him, hands splayed across my back, his own face buried into my neck.

Our heart beats sync. For a moment, we're one. 

And then time seems to start again, and I pull back, eyes bleary, and I grab his face, crashing my lips to his in a desperate plea. 

He breaths into me, and I know, for certain, for the first time in months, that I am safe.

I am home.

We break, and our tears mix on cold cheeks, and I can’t stop looking at him, touching him, feeling the fabric of his jacket beneath my fingertips, the growth of his stomach beneath my own.

“I love you, I love you so much, oh my god.” His hands are all over me. My face, my neck, my arms. 

I never thought I’d get to touch him again, get to feel him, get to kiss him.

“You’re here. I love you. You’re here.” Is all I can manage as I bring his face to mine again.

I played out entire scenes where we did exactly this inside my head while that man did whatever he wanted to me.

I had all the things I wanted to say inside my head, but now that it’s real, now that it’s forged into reality, words fail. 

Nothing I can or want to say means anything at this moment. 

Nothing matters other than me and him.

A new hand is on my shoulder, and I lift my head to see Hotch. 

And so I am passed, from person to person, being held and squeezed and kissed and cried on until everyone has felt the breath leave my lungs, and I have felt the warmth of their skin. 

I return to Spencer, and he drapes his coat over my shoulders and zips it up to my chin, before the medics walk over.

They don’t say anything, and they don’t need to. 

I simply grab his hand and start moving towards the ambulance. 

“We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Hotch's voice is stern, and soft at the same time. 

I nod, and climb into the back, Spencer right behind me.

The medics get to work, and I feel my eyes droop, feeling his hand in mine.

He brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss against each knuckle. “It’s okay. You can rest now. You’ve fought long enough.”

I smile at him, watching the tears stream down his cheeks. 

I succumb to the darkness.

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[btsslowburnfic]

Argument with Yoongi-part 2

Part 1 found HERE

Summary of part 1: you leave you and Yoongi's apartment after he can't say that he loves you anymore and he hasn't been home in weeks even though they are in town.

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

You had no idea where you were going to go. You weren't particularly close with any of the other members or their significant others since Yoongi really didn't socialize with them outside of work. You walked down the street with your backpack slung over your shoulders. Fuck, this sucked.

"Y/N!" you heard a voice call out. Seriously?

You kept walking. You were too old to have an argument out on the street. Despite your best efforts to ignore him, you ended up turning around and seeing Yoongi awkwardly jogging after you.

You stopped and glared at him.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he caught up to you.

You jerked your head to the side and walked down the nearest alley to have some semblance of privacy.

"Y/N please. Where are you going?" he asks again.

Alright. You guys were really going to have this argument out here? OK. You were so angry. You gave him a chance to talk to you and he wouldn't do it. "Why the fuck do you care? You said you don't love me. You're never home. You said you can never trust me again so why the hell are you out here following me?" you spat out.

Yoongi looked up at the sky like he wanted to scream. "I'm an idiot OK? Is that what you want to hear?"

You rolled your eyes. "No. What I wanted at a bare minimum was for you to tell me you loved me 15 minutes ago when I asked you and you couldn't even handle that."

Yoongi's eyes started to tear up; his deep voice began to crack, "I know I'm bad at stuff like this. Please. I can't do this alone."

You wanted so badly to just wrap your arms around him and forgive him. To take him home and tell him that of course you’ll stay, he’s the only person in the world for you. But you can’t. Things would just go back to how they have been and you two will just end up doing this to each other again. You scoffed. "What about me? I've been alone for months at a time. Literally alone in our apartment. While you won't come home because you say you don't want to see me even though you’re 5 minutes down the road. No." you shook your head. "I don't know where I'm going, but I know it's not with you." you turned and walked out of the alleyway and to the subway station.

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

A week passed by. You were homeless the first two nights, catching some power naps in an internet cafe, but then managed to find a cheaper hotel if you didn't mind the far walk to the station. Seoul was expensive. You sighed. Maybe it was time to move. Everywhere you turned you felt like BTS and Yoongi were being shoved in your face. You decide you're going to have to suck it up and go back to the apartment to get new clothes. You had packed the bag not actually thinking you were going to leave. Yoongi hadn't texted or called you. Which didn't surprise you given the fact he didn't do those things when you were together.

You assumed Yoongi wouldn't be at home considering he never was anyway. You unlocked the door and were immediately overwhelmed with the scent of booze and garbage. What the fuck.

You sat your backpack down and wandered inside. There, on the couch, was Yoongi. He looked so small and sad, curled up in a ball, passed out. There were several empty bottles of wine and whisky covering the coffee table. You pursed your lips together. Idiot.

You went to the laundry room and started a load of your dirty clothes. You started gathering bottles, rinsing them out, and placing them in the recycling bin. Sure, now he’s home. You found yourself thinking sarcastically.

You heard movement on the couch and you froze. You were counting on him being out of it for a while longer. You heard his groggy voice, "I told you to leave. I don't want to do this again."

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll be gone in a minute asshole. I just came to do my laundry. Also, trashing the apartment and skipping work aren’t going to make me come back.” you retorted as you continue to clean up the living room.

“I don’t care. They sent me home anyways.” he responded and rolled over, facing away from the couch now.

You sat a glass of water down on the table. “Is that so? Well I’m so glad you are home now that I’m gone. It’s really comforting to know that it was actually a choice to stay away from me.”

“Go away nightmare woman. Usually you leave when I open my eyes.”

“There’s no reason to be so mean Yoongi. I get it.” you sighed as you walked back to the laundry room to put your clothes in the dryer.

"She's gone but you keep coming back to me every time I close my eyes." you hear him whine on the couch. Does he think he’s dreaming?

“Oh yeah, your girlfriend left you?” you asked, taking a seat in the chair across from him.

“Yes.” he said sadly.

“Now why would she leave such a pretty face?” You had decided this was far too interesting not to play along.

“Because I’m a dick. I’m a bad boyfriend. I leave her for months at a time. I live in my head and forget to come home. I work all the time. And even though I think about her all the time it doesn’t matter because I’m never there for her.”

“Yeah. That does sound pretty dickish.”

“I just miss her so much.” he said quietly.

“Yeah. But even if she came back, you’d just do the same shit again.”

“No. I love her. I wouldn’t leave her alone again. They sent me home because I told them I was quitting.”

You froze. What in the everliving fuck did you just hear? You didn’t know what to say to that. You got up and walked into the bedroom, dialing one of the few BigHit contacts you had saved in your phone. You dialed Namjoon’s number. You’ve only met him like twice before and you knew they were super busy all the time so you were shocked when he actually answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey. This is [Y/N], Yoongi’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend.” you corrected yourself.

“Oh. Well, Yoongi’s not here. He got sent home 4 days ago.”

“Yeah. About that. Why did you send him home?”

“I don’t really feel like it’s my place to say. You should really ask him.”

“Yeah...I tried that and he’s like half out of his mind somewhere between sleepy, hungover, maybe still drunk, and slightly delusional so...yeah. I’m looking for some clarification.” you replied. You heard Namjoon sigh deeply. Ever the diplomat.

“He came in here a few days ago talking about how you had left him. He said he was going to quit because of it. He was...unpleasant to be around. He said he got tricked into joining the group anyway because all he had wanted to do was write music. Just you know. Angry Yoongi things.” he took a deep breath. “Anyways. We told him to go home and think about what he was saying. To cool off and come back after some time.”

“Ok. Thanks.” you said, heading back to the laundry room to check on your clothes.

“Sure. no problem. How’s he doing?”

“Bad.” you responded instantly.

“Are you two going to work things out?”

You checked the clothes. Still damp. “I don’t know. I’m not going to be with a ghost. So I guess if he’s serious about not working so much I would consider it. I don’t want him to quit; I know he loves writing and he also loves performing even if he acts like he doesn’t. I just feel like there should be some boundaries. You know?”

“I do. It’s something all of us are working on. We all talk about it a lot.”

“Yeah. Life is fucking weird.” you said, closing the dryer door. You heard Namjoon laugh.

“Well, I hope it works out. You two really do seem perfect for each other. But, if not, no hard feelings. We all have to walk our own path, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Take care.”

“Bye.”

You put the phone in your back pocket and turned to walk back into the living room and you saw Yoongi standing in the laundry room door, looking like he was about to cry.

You stared at him, unsure what to do. He walked towards you and wrapped his arms around you. “You’re real.” You feel him shudder against you.

You let yourself relax into his embrace slightly. “I am real. And I’m still upset.”

“I know. Even if this is the last time, please let me have this.” He said sniffling, his lips ghosting the top of your head. “I meant it, you know? I’ll quit.” he pulled away to look at you. “There’s no point in working all the time if I don’t have you to come home to. I took for granted that you would always be here and I shouldn’t have.”

You placed your hand on his chest. “I never wanted you to quit. I just wanted to see you more often. Especially when you’re in the same city as me.”

“My music was all I had for so long. And then the other members. And then ARMY. And then finally, you. I just don’t know where all of it fits together.” He confessed.

“Maybe I don’t fit in there and that’s ok.” you said, your eyes becoming glossy.

“But I want you. I want you so badly.” He took your hands up to his mouth and gently kissed your knuckles. You felt your face growing red.

“I want you too. But not every few months. Not when maybe you remember to come home. Not like an afterthought. I either want you to be all in, or don’t bother.”

“Will you take me back if I say I’m all in?” he asked, running a hand through your hair.

“I would consider it. But I’m being serious. I can’t keep getting my heart broken and getting my hopes up. It hurts too much.” you said, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m all in. Please. Just come home. I’ll come home too. Every night that we’re in town I promise to come home to you. Even if it’s 3 in the morning. Just please. I need you.”

You let out a very soft, “Ok.” You see him flash the smallest gummy smile. The one that you love so much.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you.” he kissed you.

You returned the kiss but crinkle your nose, “Ok, yeah. No more make-up kissing or other activities until you at least brush your teeth. And shower.”

He smiled, “Yeah ok.”

“And then go into work and beg them for your job back.”

“I thought you wanted me here more and now you’re already sending me back to work?” he pouted.

You rolled your eyes as you gently pushed him on his shoulders, guiding him to the bathroom. “At least call Namjoon and apologize.”

“Deal. But for today, I plan to begin making it up to you.” he snuck one more kiss.

“TEETH. Brush Em!” you giggled and playfully shoved him towards the sink; so glad to finally feel like the two of you were on the same wavelength again.

[elenamiria]

Boyfriend Pt. 2

Javier Peña x Reader You and Javier both seem content not to acknowledge what happened between the two of you making work awkward. To solve this Javier goes back to his old habits causing you a great deal of jealousy. However when you seek out someone to push Javier out of your mind things don’t quite go according to plan.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Swearing, minor angst, drinking, smoking, fem reader, smut - unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), no pulling out, dirty talk, slightly rough sex, nipple play, possessive Javi, aftercare

Boyfriend Pt. 1   -   Pt. 2   -   Pt. 3 

 Quick little note for the content, in this fic I discuss Bachata. Bachata is a dance that when danced with the right partner can be intimate and sexy however as a dance it itself is perfectly innocent, it’s a very common dance now though in the 80′s when this fic takes place it was only just rising to prominence as it was looked down on when it first came out. There’s a lot of political history behind the dance and if you’re interested in learning more about it there’s an excellent article about it here. Also if you have no clue what Bachata looks like or is I recommend watching this video before reading the fic! This is an example of great chemistry in between partners.  Also thank you all so much for the support on the first part of this fic!! Everyone was so sweet, I’ll be responding to everyone later tonight, for now enjoy!  I love each and every one of you who read this fic, whether or not you like or lurk - it’s all welcome and appreciated so much!! Tags: @blxwjobsforclones​ @fishswimbetterunderwater​ @aeryntheofficial​ @corrupt-fvcker​ (just in case you wanna read the next part🥺) 

The second time you and Javier Peña fucked was about two weeks later. Though only after both of you couldn't contain your jealousy any more.

A few days after the car incident Javier still couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you. Your words kept replaying over in his head, ‘it wasn’t anything’, and he kept replaying his own stupid words over and over too. He should’ve said something to you about how you made him feel, about how when he saw you go down he swore his heart stopped and how when you kissed him nothing had ever felt so right before. Instead he chickened out and brushed you off like it was nothing, which is what he convinced himself it was to you - nothing.

Things had grown tense between you two where normally easy quips filled the air, leaving Steve to roll his eyes, there was silence. And when he tested the waters with a gentle compliment you simply said ‘thanks’ and went about your day. He couldn’t lie he missed the playful flirting that always flowed so naturally between the two of you and when the silence between the two of you didn’t seem to change, causing his stress levels to skyrocket, he turned back to what he was used to. That just so happened to be dealing with his feelings through sex, though not with you that would be too simple. He turned back to fucking informants, he hadn’t stopped once he realized his feelings for you but it had definitely slowed him down but now it was like a dam broke and he couldn’t stop himself.

You had been slightly suspicious when suddenly Javi was bringing more info to the table, remembering when you first arrived to Colombia Steve giving you a warning about your other partners unusual methods, but you pushed any concerns aside as you threw yourself into work. You had started bringing work home to distract you from the object of your affection who, in an unfortunate turn of events, lived directly below you. Noise didn’t carry much from below up but you were sure he could hear you moving above him, as you could always hear the person above you. So, you weren’t aware of Javier’s steady stream of lovers until a poorly timed cigarette break.

You didn’t smoke often so you weren’t sure why you couldn’t shake the need for a cig, sighing you put aside your tedious task of the night (combing through call logs for a specific number) and fetched your carton and lighter. Locking your apartment and double checking you hustled down the steps and out of the lobby, only sparing a glance at Javi’s door. With another sigh you leaned against the building and lit up, taking a deep drag you let your eyes close before exhaling. Maybe it was good to take a break, your eyes were struggling in the poor lighting and you had started to re read the same numbers accidentally, the fresh air was reviving your brain somewhat. Taking another deep drag you started to plan out the rest of your night but we’re distracted by the noise of the opening lobby door. Opening your eyes you glanced over preparing a polite smile as you exhaled but when you spotted who it was you instead choked on the smoke. Turning quickly you prayed that he wouldn’t notice you.

As you continued to choke you tried not to think about how you had just witnessed Javier shoving his tongue down the throat of some skimpily dressed beautiful girl. Finally catching your breath you were quiet just long enough to here the girl purr out “when can I see you again Javier?”

You hated the way your heart clenched at that and angrily took a deep inhale of your cigarette, though inhaling so sharply only caused you to choke again. Swearing you tried to cough as quietly as possible though that clearly didn’t work when you heard Javier call your name, clear concern in his voice. You turned to him with a shaky smile as you caught your breath. When he saw you weren’t dying he laughed softly and raised his brow questioning, “First ever cigarette?”

You laughed as you finally caught your breath though you’re eyes were watering and responded with a simple, “Nah, surprisingly it’s not”

There was an awkward pause where both of you stared at each other for a bit though you broke contact blinking quickly and before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “Should I be concerned?”

Javier frowned at you, confusion blanketing his face as he dumbly responded “What?”

That should’ve been your cue to drop the topic and your brain was screaming at you but your big mouth seemed to have a mind of its own as you gestured towards the road where the girl had just caught a cab, “You just fucked her, right? And we- ya know, but you didn’t use a...”

You felt your face grow hot and took another drag as Javier stared at you, face tight with tension. He seemed like he was going to respond before he shifted, placing his hands on his hips and questioning “You really wanna have this conversation out here?”

You felt your embarrassment growing and you shook your head as you groaned. Your hand came up to rest on your forehead in stress as you backed down, “No Javi, I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said anything, ignore me. I’m a mess.”

“You’re gonna be more than a mess if you don’t move your hand, Jesus you’ll set your hair on fire.” Then his hand was on yours gently moving your lit cigarette from it’s precarious position over your hair. Letting out yet another groan you let your head fall onto the brick building, which hurt far more than you cared to admit due to your still healing head wound, as you whined “What’s wrong with me?!”

In your self pity you failed to notice the way Javier staying tenderly clasping your wrist, affectionate smile on his face and this time it was him who spoke without thinking, “Do you want to come over for a drink?”

He expected total rejection considering what you had just seen but when you offered a happy little grin at the opportunity he felt a warmth fill his chest. The two of you headed to his apartment and it was only then that he remembered he only had whiskey but luckily you told him that was fine. Once you had a drink in hand the tension that had plagued you seemed to melt away and the two of you were back to your usual teasing. You spent the night laughing together and sharing intimate details of your lives that you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about at work, though it was mainly you doing the sharing. When you were thoroughly tipsy you swung the conversation back to what you had originally asked and were relieved, and secretly pleased, when Javier told you that he always used condoms. The tables were reversed when he thought about it for a second then in a panic asked you if you were on birth control to which you responded with a laughing yes.

Time flew and it was soon far past time for you to go to sleep and still get a reasonable amount before work, you knew you were going to regret your decisions when you spent the work day half asleep but it was worth any grief you would go through. When you said you should go to bed Javier insisted on walking you to your apartment despite your protests that nothing was going to happen on your return which involved walking up a flight of stairs and that's it.

When you reached your door and unlocked it you turned to find Javi standing much closer than anticipated, staring down at you with his warm brown eyes. A small gasp left your throat and your hand absentmindedly came up to play with the buttons of his shirt. You swallowed deeply when you realized how desperately you wanted to kiss him, your lips part slightly and your head tilted inhibitions lowered by the steady thrum of alcohol. It wasn’t until you felt yourself moving forward that you snapped yourself out of it. Pulling back like you were burned you bit your lip before softly muttering, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Javi.”

As you started to enter your apartment you paused, turning towards him with an enamored smile “and thanks for the drink, I had a really great time”

Javier gave you a genuine smile back as he replied, “Me too cariño, I’ll see you tomorrow”

The two of you continued this routine frequently, your body always sending you on a smoke break right when Javier was escorting out his latest ‘friend’ - you swore your brain was trying to torture you into quitting. You still felt your jealousy flare up every time but you were able to quell the flames knowing that you were the one who was over every night and you were the one bringing genuine smiles and laughs to him. It wasn’t until you saw the same girl leaving his place three times in a row that you snapped, jealousy swirling inside you. When he asked you over for a drink you brushed him off storming back to your apartment and calling up one of your only friends outside of work. She had started out as an informant, a journalist who stumbled onto a trail, but she quickly became a friend though to maintain your friendship both of you agreed to no work talk. Luckily the next day was a weekend and with minimal begging she agreed to go out with you.

At work the next day Javi could tell something was up, you were antsy the whole day and kept glancing at the clock. When Steve questioned you, “got a hot date or something?”, Javier felt himself tense but when you responded that you were going out with your friend he relaxed slightly, though he still wasn't fond of the idea. As soon as you were able to leave you bolted, stopped only by Javi grabbing your hand and a quiet reminder to be careful and then you were on your way to get ready. You chose a silky slip dress that complimented your curves and you carefully applied makeup for the first time in forever. When you were ready you called for a cab and headed to the nightclub, intending on finding someone to distract you from one Agent Peña.

That ended up being just what you did, finding a handsome stranger to dance the night away with and you invited him back to your place, determined to finally push thoughts of Javier out of your mind.

When you arrived to your building you both stumbled out of the cab, he paid as you keyed into the lobby. Grabbing his hand you pulled him into you to press a messy kiss to his lips as you backed up, this plan backfired when you tripped on the stairs and you let a burst of giggles past your lips.

Unbeknownst to you this caught the ear of a certain DEA agent who had stayed up to make sure you got back in one piece. He was about to open his door to tease you when he heard a male voice echo in the empty hallway. He cracked the door open just in time to hear you huskily laugh out “Callate la boca y dame un beso”

His heart lurched at your voice and he wished you were speaking to him instead of the man who was eagerly kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t watch but he couldn’t help it while jealousy reared its head as you broke apart and pulled the man up to your apartment. Shutting his door aggressively he sighed and poured himself a generous amount of whiskey before sinking onto his couch, contemplating calling one of the girls he had seen recently.

He could hear your footsteps above him and thankfully they grew fainter as you moved to the bedroom. Taking a deep swig he lit up a cigarette, mouth twitching in annoyance. He knew he was being hypocritical but seeing someone else with their hands all over you made his blood boil. He took a deep drag from his cigarette before freezing and exhaling sharply. He could hear your bed frame rattling.

Practically downing his drink he knew it wouldn’t take the edge off, the only thing that could soothe him tonight would be you. As he angrily puffed at his cigarette he paused, in all the time you had lived above him he couldn’t remember having to listen to you fuck someone else, had he just been ignorant to your activities or had you never brought anyone back before.

Getting up for more whiskey he sighed running a hand over his face, he was such an idiot. He couldn’t believe he let you see all of those girls leaving his apartment, though did it even matter to you? He didn’t know, part of him hoped it did but another part realized if it did matter to you then that made him a massive asshole. He was so focused on his thoughts he hadn’t realized that the rhythmic scraping noises had stopped. It wasn’t until he finished his cigarette that he realized your apartment was quiet. Pausing he listened more intensely, he thought for sure he was going to have to listen to you cry out in pleasure as you had been very vocal in the car.

Hearing footsteps and noises that were decidedly not fucking he frowned, puzzled, as he sat there until he heard what sounded like the two of you leaving the apartment. Sure enough a minute later he heard two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs and the lobby door opening. He frowned, he was sure of the noises he heard but they had only lasted a few minutes, there was no way you had gotten off that quickly. Hesitantly he made his way to the lobby and watched through the frosted glass as a cab pulled up and the blurry figures standing outside came together in a kiss before the taller one walked off.

You lit up a cigarette at frustrated tears filled your eyes. Not only had you not cum, your body still humming desperately, the whole time this man was fucking you the only thing you could think of was Javi - which was the exact opposite of what you were trying to achieve. Frustration filled your body at the thought that Javier was moving on with his life like normal and here you were hung up on a man who had no idea your feelings for him. Taking a deep drag you felt a tear slip from your eye and a moment later the door opened to reveal Javier. You frantically turned your head to the side, trying to hide what you were sure was a miserable expression on your face.

When he called your name you shook your head in response though this only caused him to worry and in a second he was at your side. His hands gripped your bare elbows tightly, voice coming out in a deep growl “Did he hurt you cariño? I’ll kill him I swear.”

You sharply turned to him, a small smile filling your face at his protective nature. You weakly responded,”No, it’s nothing like that he was a gentleman. I just...”

You trailed off not knowing what to say, I mean what could you say ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you and thought screwing a stranger would distract me but I wished it was you the whole time’ that would go over well. So, Instead of coming up with anything productive to say you took another deep inhale of your cigarette, tilting your head so you wouldn’t blow smoke in Javi’s face.

In your silence Javier’s hand slid to your back, lightly trailing up your spine as he murmured “Did he make you cum hermosa?”

You shivered at both his touch and his voice, eyes darting to meet his darkened pools. Entranced you shook your head as his other hand came to wipe a stray tear away. He pulled you closer to him as his voice dropped to a whisper as he asked, “would you like to?”

A whine left your throat as you needily breathed out “Yes”

Then he was cupping the back of your head and tugging you into a slow sensual kiss. You responded eagerly though he kept his pace leisurely and you let out a low moan as his tongue swiped at your lips. Parting your lips he slipped his tongue in light and teasing before he pulled back, leaving you chasing his mouth. A deep chuckle left him as he gently pulled you back into your building and he took a drag from the cigarette he had stolen from your fingers while kissing you.

Javier walked into his apartment moving to extinguish the cigarette and you followed tentatively. You were suddenly nervous entering his apartment, even though you had spent most nights here for the past two weeks it suddenly felt so intimate. The last time you two had been together it was so spur of the moment there wasn’t time to think about what was happening. Now all you could focus on was what was about to happen and your mind moved to all the girls you had watched leave this very apartment, how could you even compare to all of them. You startled out of your thoughts at the sound of music, Javi having turned on his radio before making his way over to you.

You stayed frozen to the spot, staring with wide eyes as your partner walked over towards you. As if sensing your tension Javi gently took your hand in his and the other came to rest on your waist, pulling you slightly closer he began to sway you to the beat of the music.

At this you started to relax, dancing made sense and dancing you could deal with. As you softened in his arms and began to mimic his movements he allowed himself to take lead in a basic salsa. You smiled up at him with a teasing, “I didn’t know you could dance Agent Peña”

“Oh, I know how to dance” he quipped back before turning the two of you in a slow circle, when you followed without problem he started to test the waters with a few more complicated steps. As you continued following his lead he cocked his head, “Now either I’m missing something or you spend a lot of time in clubs, how do you know how to salsa so well?”

You laughed responding, “I used to dance at home, I did ballroom for a long time so I had a leg up when it came to learning. So you don’t have to hold back if you really wanna lead.”

At your words a devilish smirk lit up Javier’s face and he pulled you closer as he let himself flow to the music leading you in a spectacular array of moves, you had a feeling he just wanted to show off. It was exhilarating dancing with him, he was an excellent lead always hinting where you would go next before the move and a smile covered your your face at the freeing sensation of letting go.

When the song ended you reluctantly parted as the announcer started talking, Javi turned towards the kitchen calling over his shoulder to see if you wanted a drink.

As you were about to respond the next song came on and you instead asked, “Javi do you know bachata??”

Starting into the rhythm - three steps to one side and a hip raise then repeat the other way - you danced with yourself as Boca Rosa filled his living room. Javier had come back at your question a stern look on his face, he knew that you had definitely learned bachata in clubs and was intent on questioning just how many strange men you had danced with, until he watched the sway of your hips. The drinks in his hand were quickly set aside in favor of coming to pull you into him. You easily fell into the sensual closeness of the dance, Javi’s knee coming between your legs and you went back and forth for a few beats before a growl built in his throat. Spinning you forward away from him he then pulled you back to him so your back was pressed firmly to his chest. As you continued the basic step his hand rested on your ribs just below your chest, the other pushing your hand to swing around and rest on the back of his head. His face pressed into your neck as your hips rubbed against his, he couldn’t help the possessiveness that overcame him as he growled out, “Do you dance like this with other men cariño, did you dance with him like this?”

Grinding his hardening cock into your ass you whined when both his hands came to your hip as you swayed to the beat before he spun you away again. Once you were facing him again he grabbed your wrists trailing your own hands up your body and tugging you firmly back into him. You were practically kissing, noses bumping, and as his hand rose to bury in the hair at the nape of your neck you couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth. Your upper body swung in a half dip at the firm tug on your hair, Javi’s lips taking the opportunity to trail down your neck nipping lightly. When you came back up he teased at your lips with the quickest brush of his lips before swinging you out to the side and giving you a solo turn before he led you back to him. His leg slipped in between your legs again and in a non-bachata move pressed his thigh hard against the junction of your thighs, a pleased moan leaving your lips. You were already slick and after the mediocre sex you had earlier you had forgone underwear, clit catching as he rubbed his leg back and forth. Once he felt you creating a damp spot he pulled away hungry eyes trailing your body.

“Turn around, bend over the couch arm.”

His tone left no room for debate and you were eager to have him take control after your dance. You could feel your skirt rising as you bent over the couch and you were certain at your angle it was barely covering your wet pussy. You heard a sharp exhale and then large hands were sliding up the back of your thighs. Letting out a small whimper as Javi pushed your dress up over your hips you were unprepared when a hot breath hit your cunt and a yelp flew from your mouth. His hands came to grope at your ass, harshly grabbing handfuls as his mouth covered your lower lips. His experience was obvious as he absolutely devoured your pussy, nipping sucking and licking in all the right ways. Trying to hold back the noises that were pushing at your lips, the sheer amount of noise you were involuntarily producing was embarrassing, you only allowed small whimpers out. At this a loud clap rang out as Javi brought a hand down on your ass, instantly soothing the sting with gentle strokes of his hand. He pulled away slightly to growl out, “Let me hear you hermosa, you sound perfect”, before diving back into your pussy intent on making you cum.

Your mouth fell open in pleasure letting your noises flow freely and when a hand came to play with your clit your noises grew to pleas as your orgasm rapidly approached. Whining you arched back towards him, burying his face further in your cunt and another slap to your ass had you falling apart as the overwhelming pleasure mixed with the slight pain. Javier’s name flew out of your mouth as you almost sobbed from the pent up release, you ground back against his mouth and you felt him moan into you. He continued to play with your clit prolonging your pleasure as you heard him undoing his belt.

He finally pulled away once he was satisfied he licked up every bit of your cum and started unbuttoning his shirt. Hazy with pleasure you stood, wobbly in the heels you still hadn't removed and turned towards him to assist in removing his clothing.

As his shirt was ripped off you bit your lip and moved closer in order to pull him into a searing kiss, body heating again at finally being able to see him bare before you. Before he could deepen the kiss you pulled away trailing your lips down his neck, down his sternum and finally allowed yourself to nip your way down his stomach.

Landing on your knees before him you tugged his zipper down before pulling his pants down. You were surprised when his cock sprang free, it seemed you weren’t the only one going commando tonight and you licked your lips at the way his cock bobbed in front of you. Biting your lip your hand rose to stroke him gently, the other hand teasing at his balls.

A moan flew past Javi’s lips as you kissed his tip and what sounded like a low whimper came from him as you licked up and down his length getting him nice and wet before you finally took him in your mouth. Teasingly you kept a slow pace, only taking his tip, until a hand buried itself in your hair and Javi’s deep voice commanded ‘enough teasing, cariño’. You gave him the best innocent look you could when his dick was in your mouth before starting a faster pace, this time taking as much of him as you could. He was long and you couldn't fit him all in your mouth, hand stroking the portion left out, choking slightly whenever you would eagerly take him too deep. Whenever he hit the back of your throat his hips involuntarily bucked forward and stuttered gasps flew from his mouth. You knew you would absolutely hold yourself there, choking on his thick length as long as you could keep hearing those noises he was making. You kept your pace for a few minutes, varying how long you held him in your mouth sucking lightly until you bobbed your head again, before he pulled you off and you looked at him confused, his eyes were practically black in need as he purred out, “When I cum it’s going to be in your tight little pussy hermosa, are you wet enough for me?”

Reaching a hand between your legs he groaned in appreciation to find you absolutely soaked for him. Pulling you into a deep kiss he backed you up to the couch though rather than setting you down right away he allowed his hands to slide under your dress and gently tugging it over your head, moan leaving his throat as you were fully exposed to him. His hands traced your body reverently as he soaked in every inch of your skin, your name leaving his lips delicately before he whispered “You’re so beautiful, you know that cariño?”

He captured your mouth in another passionate kiss as he lowered you onto the couch, making sure your head was resting comfortably as he situated himself in between your thighs. Once you were settled he teased the tip of his cock up and down your slit, thumbing at your clit, drenching his cock in your juices. Your back arched slightly desperate for him to stop teasing, instead a small smirk found his face as he tapped his cock against your clit sending sparks down your spine. Your hands grasped at his arms as a pleading look crossed your face whining his name out desperately.

Both of you moaned as he gave in and slid his hard length into you, pushing until his hips were flush against yours and you were filled to the brim with him. You were convinced you would never see anything more beautiful than Javier Peña throwing his head back in pleasure at the way your walls clenched around him and the way his neck tensed made you want nothing more than to suck a mark into his tanned skin.

He started pumping into you slowly but every thrust was deep, hitting spots in you that you were certainly no one else had ever touched. His hands stayed on your thighs, squeezing slightly as he steadily pumped into you, and his dark eyes roamed your body savoring everything you shared with him. His whole face twitched in pleasure as his hand relocated to rub lightly at your clit and your walls clenched around him, the sight of his hard length disappearing into your soaking cunt causing his breathing to become ragged.

Before the sight could make him cum prematurely he leaned down to capture your lips as he picked up his pace, the thrusts were still deeper strokes than fast ones but it was effective, your orgasm building quickly within your lower stomach. Your hand buried in his hair as he broke the kiss to groan out lightly and you nuzzled into his neck, nipping lightly before sucking slightly. This caused Javi's hips to stutter as he whimpered your name out, voice raising slightly and your body buzzed in pleasure at his broken sounds.

You sucked a mark into his neck, biting gently, while he picked up the pace and as your tits started bouncing in time with his thrusts he arched his neck in order to suck a nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your nipple and as it hardened he lightly tugged it with his teeth, you whined at his treatment and he repeated his actions on the other side. Your walls fluttered around him more rapidly now as his hips slapped up against yours, cock slipping in and out coated in your juices as he neared his peak as well.

Pulling away and sitting up straight Javier watched you as you got closer to to your orgasm, the new position allowed him to rock deep into you even faster. He shifted your legs so the one pressing into the couch back was now resting on his shoulder as he pounded into you. As soon as the leg was secure his hand flew to lightly grip your neck, not cutting off your air supply but just resting there reminding you that he was in charge, his neck straining at the exertion as he slammed in and out of you. As your back arched in pleasure a growl left his throat as he pressed, “He didn’t fuck you like this did he? He can’t fuck you like I can cariño. After this you won't be able to fuck anyone without thinking of me.”

His words lit your body up as you cried out for him, writhing as your pleasure started to reach its peak. Sensing this his hand tightened slightly in order to slam his cock into your drenched cunt even faster, breath coming out in harsh pants, his other hand grasping at your tits playing with your nipples. As he thrust into you he ground out, “You have such a tight little pussy, you take me so well cariño. You’re absolutely soaked filthy girl and all for me, who does this cunt belong to? Tell me baby”

His words sparked your submissive side and you cried out “You Javi! I’m all yours, my pussy is all for you Javier!”

You squeezed him tight as you teetered on the edge though you couldn’t quite tip over it, desperate you grabbed his hand that was rolling your nipple lightly and pushed it towards your clit before grabbing his wrist and squeezing tight nails digging into him, desperate for an anchor. Javier breathed out rapidly as his hand shot down to your clit and firmly tapped with his fingers. The light sting mixed with his firm commanding words of “Cum for me hermosa, cum all over my cock and I’ll fill up your tight cunt” was enough to shove you over the edge.

You were vaguely aware of hoarsely screaming his name as your back arched high, eyes squeezing shut. You grew impossibly tight around him and his hips stuttered as he began to coat your walls with ropes of his cum. He pinched lightly at your clit and your walls fluttered rapidly, a heavy shocks shooting through your body, milking his cock as he spurted into you. You saw white at your prolonged pleasure and you felt something wet at the corner of your eyes, which you realized were tears of pleasure as you started to come down.

Both of you stayed frozen, chests heaving as you fought to regain your breath, his hand moved to rest on your sternum lightly tracing your collarbone.

After you both became aware of your surroundings after floating down from your highs he gently eased your leg off of his shoulder and you had a feeling you were going to be sore. A dazed smile came over your face as you softly pulled him towards you to share a kiss. You couldn’t hide the affection that shone in your eyes as you took in his blissful face. As you shared another kiss he stroked your face softly before sighing into your lips, pressing his face to the side of yours he spoke your name hesitantly.

“If you ever need to...blow off steam like this again you come to me.”

His words made your heart beat faster but not wanting to get your hopes up you muttered jokingly, “you’re still inside me and you’re worried about next time?”

You tried to turn your head to look at him but he gently held your face in place before speaking quietly again. “I’m serious, if you don’t want to let me know but, if you want me, I need to hear you say you’ll come to me.”

You could tell that he wasn’t comfortable with this conversation, he had said once emotions weren’t his strong suit, so you responded quickly. “I’ll come to you Javi, as long as you’ll have me.”

You felt like there was something else he wanted to say but instead he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and your eyes slid shut happily. Slipping his softened cock out of you a whimper left you as you felt his cum start to leak out of you.

Javier swore at the sight, cock twitching in interest and he wanted nothing more than to gently finger his dripping cum back into you but he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered “Let me clean you up hermosa, I’ll be right back”

He disappeared before returning with a cloth to gently clean you up, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as he worked, he couldn't help but lick one stripe up your pussy tasting himself on you and causing your whole body to shake as an aftershock flew through you.

Pulling away he grabbed the drinks he had discarded earlier and took a swig before offering one to you. You accepted it, throat hoarse from all the use it got - you prayed Javier’s walls were decently soundproof. Shifting up you let out a groan when you realized how tired you were. At your noise Javi looked at you and gently grabbed the blanket strewn across the back of the brown couch covering your shoulders with it and questioning softly, “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You shook your head shooting him a another smile, “No, I’m just tired is all. I should probably head to my apartment”

You absolutely hated the idea of leaving him so soon but you didn’t want to impose and so you stood on wobbly legs, cursing the fact that you were still wearing your heels, but before you could get anywhere you were stopped.

Javier gently grasped your wrist and his eyes softened, other hand raising to smooth down some stray hairs on the side of your head before his deep voice met your ears, “You can stay if you want”

You froze not believing what you were hearing and then he spoke again so quiet you barely heard it, “Please stay, I don’t want you to go”

Your heart soared and you smiled broadly nodding happily. You sat back down in order to take off your shoes and as you did Javi’s hand continued to play with your hair. As you smiled sweetly up at him he felt like his heart was going to burst, seeing you with someone else had pushed him to his limit. He knew he was going to have to tell you how he really felt but as he guided you to his bedroom he let a smile cover his face, he could get it right this time.

Seeing you in a spare shirt of his and pressed up against him sleepily pressing a kiss to his chest he knew he wanted more with you. He wanted you to be his girlfriend and for the first time in a long time he could see a life beyond Colombia, settling down with you and if you wanted starting a family. Pulling you closer to him he drifted off into sleep Javier knew he would have to ask you to be his girlfriend, but for now you agreeing not to see anyone else was enough.

[scribble-blog]

Changeling Fae AU? Changeling Fae AU.

I feel like I start every post with an apology so I won’t do that but I mean to update!! And then I don’t or I can’t write and it all sucks!! But have 3000 words of something brand new instead!!!!

Her parents had been bakers; blessed with a babe after years of believing themselves barren. Sabine had wept to hold her child at last in her arms, and Tom had brought their whole village to celebrate her birth with his wonderful sweets.

Of course, they had named her Marinette. One who rises. They had no intentions of guiding her towards higher connections, the way some thought they might when they glimpsed the child; surely, between her beauty and kind disposition, Tom and Sabine could marry her to some lesser title, and leave their child in comfort for the rest of her life.

But as the child grew older, whispers surrounded her. People wondered about her seemingly small stature, her odd grace paired with her clumsy movements, the way she could inspire and move you with words and then flail and mumble after.

“Fae child,” people started whispering. 

“Changeling.”

Tom and Sabine didn’t let it move them. Their daughter was theirs, oddities and eccentricities and all. For her clumsiness, she could sew and mend with more skill than the tailor two streets over. For her size, she was able to learn the trade of the bakery and helped her parents every morning as a good child should.

And if some mornings, Sabine woke to find the kitchen just cleaner, the bread rising just better, the smells just more aromatic, she had no problem setting out a small bowl of milk, tucked behind counters, for whatever creature was slipping in to check on her daughter and helping them on their way out.

After all, Sabine had been small and awkward and graceful and different once too.

It is on the cusp of Marinette’s twelfth birthday that Tom stumbles down in the morning, ready to start the bread for the day, and finds the being sitting there. 

In the dark of the morning, lit only by the fire in their hearth, the woman glows. She has the same short stature as his girl, the same bright blue eyes that she had not gotten from either himself or his wife.

“I owe you a boon, Thomas Dupain,” the Faerie says, sitting on his counter and swinging her legs slightly, oddly child-like. “You and your wife, Sabine Cheng. For raising-“ her voices rises and falls melodically for a moment. It almost sounds like Marinette. It almost sounds like the crackle of the fresh baked bread. It almost sounds like the rustle of cloth as his daughter sews. It almost sounds like she has said ladybug.

Such a small thing, to bring luck and joy.

“You have done so well with her,” the faerie says. “And so compassionate, has she become. The kindness displayed by your wife to my lesser subjects also cannot go unrewarded.”

Tom swallows, then bows his head. “You are here to take her, then?”

The creature regards him. “Call me Tikki, Tom Dupain,” she says. She makes the sound again, this time rushing waters and warm sunshine and Marinette and ladybug, “must join me. I cannot tell you what will happen when she does.”

“My boon,” he says, reckless to the face of this powerful being, in the knowledge that it is his child she is here for. “My boon. You must not let today be the last I see of my girl. The last time I hold her. If only for a day, an hour, a minute- you must return her to me.”

Tikki tilts her head, smile dazzling. “A good man, you certainly are. A good parent, without doubt. I can grant you this boon. And as your reward- nothing will replace your Marinette, of course. But a new pair of hands to help in your bakery. Expect her soon.”

Tom nods; there are more rules then sense about dealing with the Fair Folk and he’s certain he’s already broken some. What else can he say without angering her? What else can he do without causing unintentional offense? “Would you like breakfast?” He says instead of heeding his thoughts. 

“No,” she laughs, a tinkling glass bell like the chirping of birds. “I shall return for her at high noon.”

Tom nods, throat tight. He starts the bread and he goes through his morning until daylight starts to peek into the windows, and then he sighs and puts the last loaf in the oven, and he goes to wake his daughter and wife.

Marinette stands in the kitchen, hands clasped tightly, staring into the embers of the fire. She wears her best dress, with the pink trim, and she does not have tears in her eyes as she looks at her parents. Anything to say had been said; anything left over was just going to hurt more. She had a small bag, slung over her shoulder, with paltry things her parents hoped might help.

Tikki sat before her, perched on the counter. The flimsy sheer overlay of her clothing was resting in the flour.

“Marinette,” Tikki says to her, but it’s not just her name. It’s something deeper that echoes in her heart. “I’ve come for you.”

“I thought something might eventually,” she laughs nervously. 

Tikki extended a hand. Marinette reached for it, hesitating before the contact. 

Tikki smiled gently and took her fingers. “This isn’t a bad thing, Marinette. Just a change.”

Marinette tightened her grip. “I’m ready.” She gave her parents one last look, trying to burn their faces into her mind.

“Then come, Marinette, of the Orders of Creation and Luck. Come and claim your birthright as my heir.”

Marinette did not expect this much walking. “Is it... is it far?” 

The town was hours behind them. Marinette’s nicest dress was ragged at the hem, snatched with brambles and in one spot, torn by a branch that had wanted blood. She hefted her small pack higher on her shoulders, waiting for the Fae to break the silence.

“It is less about the distance,” Tikki told her, “and more about the time and your intentions. Anyone could walk this road into these woods and continue happily onto whichever small village next offers a meal- but to walk it in the hours before dusk, with the intent to find home, with myself at your side-“ 

Tikki stopped. The tree ahead of her was worn and old and stooped, but still vibrant in its flowers and leaves. Tikki traced the whorls along the bark, watching them glow with an internal light.

“We still have hours til dusk,” she said. “Come.”

Marinette rubbed her eyes. 

Tikki had been just before her. She knew it, had heard the small footsteps and the cheery whistle and then she had turned a bend and Marinette was alone.

“Tikki?” She called out. “Hello, Tikki?”

The woods were green and ethereal around her, the warm light of evening streaming through the foliage and dying everything alive and almost thrumming with energy. She kept walking forward, waiting for the path to turn against and she’d see the Fae ahead, waiting with a raised brow and a small smile. Marinette broke into a run. 

“Tikki??!” She called again. The road ahead of her seemed endless, and it changed as her heart beat faster, until everything had focused into the tunnel of branches and roots she sprinted through. “Tikki!!!”

She came to a rough halt, stumbling over a root as the road diverged. She caught herself on the tree, not quite tumbling. 

“So you’re a changeling as well?” The voice was cool, and dismissive, and challenging all at once. Marinette tensed, meeting the eyes of the stranger.

“I know you,” she said instead of any of the instant rebuttals she can think of.

And she does. Leaning up against the tree that marks the split path is the Bourgeois daughter; she’d fixed one of her dresses once, and her parents were often entreated to come and work for them. Marinette had never actually spoken to her though.

“One would hope.” The girl flips her hair, and Marinette takes a second to actually take her in. She isn’t wearing a dress like Marinette, or anything remotely expected. Instead she’s dressed in pants and layered shirts, a cloak over her arms and a pack on her shoulders. “I am Chloé Bourgeois, after all.”

“I’m Marinette,” Marinette offers. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Did I ask?”

The girl was getting on Marinette’s nerves. “Did you see anyone else come through this way? I’m looking for-“

“A Fae.” Chloé shrugged. “I know what you’re looking for. It’s part of the whole trial.”

Marinette squared her shoulders. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. I’m trying to find someone.”

Chloé’s expression remained smugly disdainful. “The trial? You have to make your own way into the Other World in order to prove yourself as rightful heir. The Fae that led you here? Their gone. Face it. You’ve been abandoned to die in the woods. At least my Fae told me what was happening before dipping out.”

Her blood felt icy in her veins. “No. They wouldn’t.”

“They’re Fae,” Chloé said coolly. “They lured us out here with promises of being special of whatever and then left us for fun.”

“No.” Marinette closed her eyes, and then turned left. “Tikki said it was about intentions. Well, I don’t intend to die here. Come on.”

She grabbed Chloé’s arm and yanked, pleaded to see the blonde sprawl and lose her composure with a squawk.

“You little peasant, how DARE you! I’ll-“

“You’ll do what, Chloé? Call your Father’s guards?” Marinette laughed. “Come on. I’m not letting either of us die in here.”

Chloé looked around for any other choice and Marinette could see her face fall when none presented themselves. And then she hardened her expression. “I’m certainly not following around a dirty little baker’s daughter. I’m a Bourgois. I’ll find my own way.” She spun and started stomping down the other path.

Marinette eyed the path she’d chosen. It had felt right to turn left. She was sure when she chose it that it was the right way. And Chloé was being rude enough that Marinette would love to consider leaving her.

But she turned to the right. If it was intention, then she would make sure she and Chloé both made it. She had enough intention for anyone and everyone.

“Chloé!” She called, and Chloé actually did stop and wait for her. “I’ll follow you, if you don’t mind.”

“And why would you do that?” Chloé squinted suspiciously even as they started walking. “Well, obviously, because I’m right and everyone should follo-AEEEUgghh,” she squawked as she fell and groaned from the forest floor.

“I figure you’re a decent warning system for problematic roots,” Marinette grinned, holding her hand out. 

Chloe grit her teeth and took it.

They walked in silence for a while, Marinette thinking and Chloé seemingly fuming.

“Is that the best dress you could muster for the occasion?” The girl finally spat. “One faerie prances up to your door and you pull out all the stops? I’ve got dresses that would make yours wrinkle with envy.”

“Where did you get those clothes?” Marinette finally voiced what she’d been thinking for a while. “It doesn’t seem like something you’d just have on hand, and they all look pretty ill-fitting-“

Chloé self consciously fixed the collar of her vest. “If you must know,” she sniffed, “my Father thought the Fae was full of shit. So I stole these from the washroom and I figured I’d find out myself.”

“And?” Marinette giggles.

“Yeah, this is pretty shitty still,” Chloé grimaces. “I’m- sorry. Pollen said I had to work on my temper.”

“It’s-“ Marinette stopped. It wasn’t okay, but she didn’t want to alienate the only companion she had. “I can understand, I guess. As long as you’re trying to be better.”

Marinette was getting the feeling now that she should have taken the other path. Not because of Chloé- just- it had felt right. And the longer they walked this one, the wronger it felt. 

The trees seemed longer. Sharper.

“So Pollen was the Fae who came to get you?” Marinette asked. “Mine’s name was Tikki.”

“Don’t see how it matters.” Chloé pointed up. “Light’s starting to fade. It’s nearing dusk.”

“Then we need to go,” Marinette said. 

Chloé sighed. “I suppose if we must.”

Marinette started walking faster when the light started turning pink. And then when it started losing the vibrant color, she started running, Chloé in her heels. She could almost feel it when the sun set, the last ray burning over the horizon as she stopped.

“That’s it, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloé dusted herself off. “I’ve known it since Pollen took off. We weren’t changelings, we weren’t special- just the next fun human toy to throw out in the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” Marinette spat, whirling around, suddenly furious as she tried desperately to suppress the fear climbing in her throat. “Tikki promised I’d see my father again!”

Chloé gave her a contemptuous look. “More fool you.”

“No!” Marinette stomped up to her. “It’s you, isn’t it! With your bratty attitude and your cynicism. Tikki said it was about intentions and you’ve been doing nothing but try to irritate me since I found you!”

“Oh, since you found me?” Chloé barked out laughter. “You were just as lost as I was! I was better off sitting there than walking even further into the Fae forest!”

“You’d still be sitting there without me!” Marinette shouted. “You’re ready to die just because you’re afraid you aren’t as special as people say you are! Well guess what! You aren’t special!”

“I could be!” Chloé yelled back. “I was going to be a Fae Queen and I was going to rule and then you and Mother and everyone would see it!”

Marinette stopped short of the next ugly thing she was ready to say, watching the tears bead up in Chloé’s eyes. “You don’t need to be special. Pollen didn’t want you because you’re Chloé Bourgeois and your special. Pollen just wanted Chloé Bourgeois.”

Chloé angrily wiped away the moisture. “I’m fucking special, fuck you.”

Marinette looked around again, the dim light starting to cast the shadows grey. And then she saw a tree, weathered like a worn brow upon the forest’s face.

She walked up to it and reached out her hand, watching the way it reacted, lights sparking beneath her fingers, beneath the bark.

“It’s about the intentions,” she murmured. For a moment she looked at Chloé.

“The light isn’t quite gone. You’ve got to try, Chloé.”

Chloé’s lips trembled, as of about to speak, but instead she just nodded, jerking her chin forward. Marinette took the first step, listening to Chloé behind her, concentrating on somewhere she’d never been.

And then there was a corner and she rounded it, and Tikki was there. Marinette rushed forward, throwing herself into the Fae’s arms.

“You made it, Marinette. My Ladybug.” Tikki caressed her cheek. “Welcome home.”

Marinette looked back first. “Where’s Chloé?”

“Subjection’s girl?” Tikki paused. “You’ll have opportunity to see her soon enough, I suppose.”

“Then she made it,” Marinette could feel the tension drain away from her.

“Come,” Tikki said, amused. “And I will show you your world.”

Marinette faced where Tikki gestured and gasped.

They were on some sort of balcony, framed in by the branches of the trees she had just exited. She could see the grounds below rolling out forever, hills and plains and farmlands and forests and small towns. Right below them sprawled a city, and she realized that she was standing on a tower, and looking around her, she saw the scope of the castle.

“This way,” Tikki said, leading her to one side and opening up a vine covered door Marinette hadn’t realized was there until that moment. “The castle is, of course, yours. You must feel free to roam as you wish. Those who work here will serve you as they do me.”

“Huh?” Marinette felt dazed. The hallway progressed into a larger hall, into a larger one, until they stopped at a door.

“Your room, of course,” Tikki said, pushing the doors open. “You should find everything you might need here. In the morning, I shall have you escorted to breakfast, and then you will join me in my study. For now, I will send up food and drink. Rest well, dear one.”

Marinette took a step in and had to resist the urge to faint.

The room was spacious, with small corners carved out for what looked to be a study and a small sitting area. The bed dominated the room, with two doors leading out from either side. 

She turned to Tikki, to protest, and found the Fae already gone.

She sat on the bed, finding it plusher than the bed at home, which had lumps, but she knew the lumps and she could sleep around them. She laid down, sinking in and trying not to cry at the sudden overwhelming wave of homesickness and exhaustion. The day had seemed so long, how could she have said goodbye that morning? How could she have been with Chloé, not half an hour ago?

Eventually she wiped away the tears that had sprung up and moved towards the sitting area.  She imagined it to be for sharing secrets with the kind of close friends one might invite into your room, but she had never truly had anyone who didn’t whisper about her behind her back other than her parents.  The chairs were soft too, in the plush way she was now coming to associate with this life.

The study held more interest. The bookshelf was already full and she let herself browse titles for a moment. The Miraculous and Children of the Miraculous caught her eye, as well as one that seemed untitled, but when she pulled it out she found a hand written journal in a language she didn’t know.

The desk was grand, but the drawers held other treasures. A set of needles, each finer alone than her parents could buy in a year. A small selection of fabrics. She clutched them to her chest and let out a muffled dry sob before composing herself. 

The first door led to a bathroom and she gave it a perfunctory look over, sure that it would matter much more to her later. The final was a closet, and -

“Highness?” A small voice asked. Marinette’s eyes opened to see very wide hazel eyes, just in front of her. 

She had fainted upon seeing the open closet, filled with clothing she could only ever have dreamed of. 

The servant was a small girl, with mousy blonde hair and the widest eyes Marinette had ever seen. She was also carrying a covered platter which Marinette assumes would be her dinner.

“Let me take that,” she offered, hands reaching, but the girl stepped back.

“No, Highness,” the girl said, taken aback. “Simply direct me-“

Marinette blushed. “If you would set it on the desk then?” 

The girl did so, and then curtsied. She held her pose, as Marinette watched, long enough that Marinette realized she was waiting for Marinette to dismiss her.

“Oh! Sorry, yes, thank you.”

The girl spun and walked briskly out, and Marinette groaned. That was a bungled first impression if there ever was one. The smell of the food beckoned and she gave the closet one last longing glance before lifting the lid.

Steaming rich stew, with warm bread and butter and honey. A glass of milk. Marinette sat down and ate it without thought, trying to settle her mind. 

She went back to the closet when she’d finished. It would make sense to know her own wardrobe.

She proceeded to spend the next two hours attempting to try on dresses. It was rather difficult as several were clearly designed to be put on her by a second pair of hands but she managed.

In the end she found a soft linen shift on the bed and put that on, before crawling into the bed and closing her eyes. Sleep fell upon her immediately.

TAGLIST:

@ash-amg @vixen-uchiha @redscarlet95 @dramatic-squirrel @athena452 @novaloptr @bee-wrecker @constancetruggle @pr-y-sha

[demauryss]

murphy’s law | 1/2

anything that can go wrong will go wrong. eliott just learns it the hardest way possible.

or, kind of an expansion of hold you here my loveliest friend

 alt er love advent calender, day 18

(for my dearest mtea @bluronyourradar, this is the thing which i was writing for you. i tore my heart in half while writing this hehe hope you enjoy reading this. part two coming soon i promise :-))

The thing about giving your heart to your best friend is, you never actually see it happening. You don’t see it coming. It just happens. Maybe at the speed of tar moving over the road. Maybe at the way the sunlight fades behind the darkness of the night. Maybe in the blink of an eye. But it happens.

You see, they’re always there. You find their smile punctuated by the way they look at you, and their words sweet like honey and heart as warm as a stream of water on a hot day. The fluttering of their hands over your skin and in your stomach burning like the crackling fire you’d have stood in front of, smoke from the ashes mixing with the tears in your eyes as you’d have turned away. They’re always there, so you don’t see.

(Maybe sometimes you do. Amidst fleeting glances and stopping heartbeat and sometimes, concrete as the sky and bottomless as the ground beneath your feet. You don’t.)

And it’s the best thing, those short moments where you don’t have to worry about someone else having a hold of your heart, twisting it to their desires. It’s the best thing about giving your heart to your best friend. Because you’re as blissful as you can be around them. Because you’ve always felt this welcoming warmth radiating from them which envelops your bones and makes a home for you inside itself, stopping you from stepping out of it into the unbidden cold, which is sharp and sinks itself over you.

And when your best friend gives their heart to you, you take it without any questions asked. You hold it close to the space where yours used to be. You spend your nights dancing through the grass and your days lifting the feeling slowly settling in your head, blurring your thoughts and fading every sense of reality. You hold on to their heart tighter than your own, and maybe that’s the first mistake you make.

Because then your grip on your own heart starts to loosen. Till a time comes that it completely shifts away from you. Because your brain is busy protecting your best friend’s heart and forgets the part of itself which you have given away.

And because. Because you let yourself. So there comes a time when your best friend hands your heart back to you. They hand it back, warmed and loved and wrapped in a curtain which makes it to look like it hasn’t been used before. They hand it back, a delicate bundle of fibers and beats mixing into one.

And you’ve spent so much time in cutting all the nerves and vessels tying you to that beating flesh. You’ve spent so much of yourself living without that part of you. And when you get your heart back, despite of your wishes, you don’t know what to do with it. You place it beck inside your chest, behind that cage tightening against the walls, hoping it would find its place back. But it sits there, a foreign and estranged piece of you; a displaced swing finding its equilibrium again; a stretched elastic held against its wishes to recoil.

Because you know if you let it go it would return to them in a heartbeat.

And that’s another thing about giving your heart to your best friend. The first time it happens, you don’t realize it. But the second time, when your heart literally crawls out of your chest, and walks away from you and back to your best friend. It rips your skin in the way, leaves your hands frozen, unable to stop the process, as you watch it run away from you.

And you watch, realizing that it will never be yours if you stop it now. So you watch. And you let it go.

And with it comes the realization that the thing beating inside you was never meant to stay there and hide. That even after they return your heart to you under the guise of doubts and ache, it’s ready to turn away in a second. That no matter the layers you put over it and the pain you go through to cover the fierceness with which it is beginning to tear itself from you; it won’t work. And there comes a time where you’re left to collect the pieces of your skin and the fibers your heart has left in its trail.

And that’s the worst thing about giving your heart to your best friend, you see. The realization, the feeling, the fucking knife which keeps on twisting in your chest and you keep screaming for it to stop, just stop. But the blood seeps away and the wound gets deeper and you find yourself filling it with the dust in your lungs and the shivers in your hands. But it fills your mouth with iron and your legs become studded with lead when you realize – you realize that no matter what, your heart will never be yours to keep after that.

    Lucas’s mother owns a candy shop. When he hugs Eliott his hair smells of butterscotch and banana, all combined into one. It’s peculiar, but the thought fades into the back of his head when Lucas nuzzles his face into his chest, and as his hands squeeze the space above Eliott’s hips in a frantic cry of help.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, muffling a laugh behind the wild mess on Lucas’s head which needs to be toned down desperately – but Eliott isn’t complaining. “What is it this time?”

Lucas separates himself from Eliott, his lips puffed in a pout and eyes filled with a look of great disgrace as he grimaces. “Blueberry and basil! Like would you believe that?” He shudders effectively, his eyes going wide as he looks at Eliott. “It tastes terrible.”

Eliott shakes his head, “Terrible as in sriracha and peanut butter or terrible as in terrible?”

“Terrible!” Lucas throws his hands up as he starts walking into the shop. Eliott follows him. “Like how you’d expect someone's locker to smell like after months of dirty clothes accumulating there.”

Eliott shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips, “That’s oddly specific, and besides, I don’t think it’s that bad. I mean, you said the same thing about orange and tarragon and it ended up tasting bloody amazing!”

“I knew you would say that,” The small rainbow embroidered at the left side of Lucas’s olive green sweater catches Eliott’s eyes when he turns around to frown at him. Eliott has half a mind to remove the piece of lint and fraying thread from it, like they used to do before. Pieces of wool caught on Lucas’s hair, eyelash on Eliott’s cheek. Dirt smeared on Lucas’s face, and charcoal on Eliott’s fingers.

He has half a mind to fall back into the circle he barely made out of alive, and blow away the lint for it to catch something somewhere else. But he stops himself.

They don’t do it anymore.

“What makes you think so?”

Eliott’s first memory of Lucas is from the same spot Eliott’s standing on with the two jars of Ali’s homemade orange marmalade. Lucas’s eyes are a shade of an orchestral blue which he finds tainting the memory, and there’s a troubled smile blooming over his features a minute later when he hears another pair of footsteps coming closer.

“Eliott, is that you, dear? Please help me in letting this devil know he’s wrong. You’re the only one who can help me right now.”

Lucas lets out a wounded groan, his eyes widening as he whispers, “That.” Eliott smothers his laugh when Lucas starts to rush in the opposite direction to the resounding footsteps.

“I don’t work here and you never saw me.”

Ali nears into Eliott’s view just as her son disappears behind a display of colorful candies wrapped in pretty ribbons. Eliott, even when he was stumbling about his footing around Lucas, had always been awed by the intricate knots and the curves Ali has placed in the ribbons. When she approaches him, her eyes soften into a blue much like Lucas’s, but still on a different side of the spectrum.

“Lucas’s being a diva again,” she tells him, holding out a wooden spoon dipped in a questionable mixture in a purple bowl. It smells strongly of sugar and home, an exact opposite of what Lucas had so graciously – and wrongly – described. Ali holds out the mixture for him to taste, and he does so, dipping in a figure in the velvety warmth gathered on the tip of the spoon and bringing it to his mouth.

“It…actually, it tastes so good.”

He knows Lucas is hiding behind the shelves somewhere. Before, when it used to be as simple as Eliott using his fingers to do the counting on, or the stars simply dotting the sky without meaning anything, Ali would have Eliott and Lucas spending hours in her little kitchen, having them as the testers of whatever she would have made. It started out as a rush of a breeze for Eliott quickly picking up space before transforming into this pleasant routine he hasn’t departed from yet.

(Despite letting go of the person it all started out with.)

Ali’s smile brings Eliott into a cocoon of familiarity, “Tell this brainless idiot hiding here somewhere. I swear God really messed up when he gave Lucas those taste buds.” She shakes her head and Eliott laughs.

“Please stop talking about me like I’m not here,” He hears a muffled voice, one coming from directly behind him. Lucas emerges, licking around an orange colored candy which Eliott is absolutely sure isn’t meant for eating by him at all. His suspicion is confirmed when Ali gives her son a disapproving look, which he absolutely dodges when his eyes start burning brighter.

“And you please stop stealing the stuff I made which you previously rejected with those abominable taste buds of yours.” Ali bites back and Lucas turns a faux-offended face towards her. It’s familiar. It’s warm. It burns.

“I’ll have you know my taste buds are anything but that; very high in demand too. Tell her Eliott!” Eliott is more shocked on the mention of his name than the suffocating feeling the simple request brings as his lungs almost collapse on themselves. Lucas is unaware of the weight his words had on Eliott, as he struggles to keep his breathing even and heart forcibly inside his chest. There’s something very primal about this feeling – the one of tightness in his lungs and restlessness in his legs – something which takes him back to the very first time he’d seen Lucas a decade ago – right here in this candy shop with butterscotch in his smile and sugar in his hair, gripping Eliott in a saccharine tanginess bound to hold him for the rest of his life.

Lucas says something, and Ali threatens to catapult the bowl of the gooey mixture over his head. Eliott watches, silent, when Lucas shakes his head – all faux annoyed – as his mother stands rolling her eyes at her bratty son.

“Anyways,” Lucas says, looping his arm through Eliott’s at a place where a familiar burn seeps through the material of his shirt. “Since all of your attempts of stealing Eliott from me have considerably failed, can you let us go now?”

Eliott makes a sound of indignation in his throat. As if –

“As if you need any permission from me.”

Ali hasn’t even completed the sentence, and Eliott is being forcefully dragged towards the door. He’s always been amazed by the strength Lucas holds, now even more so when he finds himself just near the door between shouting a goodbye to Ali and taking his next breath.

“Hey,” Eliott starts when they’re outside. He’s resisting the pull Eliott has on him. It’s somewhere around the sun beginning to set behind the clouds. “Slow down, will you?”

Lucas looks at him, eyes narrowed as if he’s seriously judging Eliott, “Yann will have my head on a plate if we do.”

And Eliott would like to know where that we in this conversation came from. But before he does…..”And we can’t have that now?”

Lucas grins, “You know we can’t.”

  Lucas Lallemant is a tide –

He’s a force which keeps on moving forward, carving shorelines and curved shapes in places Eliott finds hard to keep up with. He’s high when the moon comes, rising on his toes to offer Eliott a hit of the blunt curled in his fingers, sometimes snug between his lips. Sometimes he rushes away. Sometimes he crashes against Eliott – but then he slips out of the gaps between Eliott’s fingers, through the cracks in his skin – and settles somewhere hidden, alien, and then Eliott has to crawl – follow the trajectory he would have carved, only to find him crashing against his walls with a rhythm impossible for Eliott to match, to get hold of.

He’s a force which keeps on giving – to shores, to coasts.  To the moss gathered on stone wearing with time and tide – with him. He gives – he gives till Eliott finds himself surrounded in every pore, every grain that is Lucas. He comes like this: little ripples on the surface of Eliott’s skin setting in motion

And that’s when he takes. The sand which lines the edges and the plants covering the base, tearing away their roots, dissolving them into smithereens much like Eliott’s heart in his hands and the blood in his mouth from biting his tongue too hard as it escapes; his heart among the waves melting on the floor and rising upwards, higher, faster. Till the blue of him surrounds Eliott in a lightning contrast against the warmth of his hands, resting, curling in his chest and plunging him into once deep then hallow darkness as he rises.

And when the ebb comes – Eliott drowns in it.

    Idriss takes him by the lapel of his jacket onto the balcony once they’ve reached Yann’s flat.

“Hey,” he says, his voice weighted by the bass which beats under his feet. Lucas gets swarmed into the crowd, one part of it taking him, another forming a barrier for Eliott to reach him.

“How have you been?”

It doesn’t register in his brain; the grave being which holds Idriss's words together for Eliott. He hums out a non-committal response, which does little wonders to ease Idriss off of his case.

“Eliott,” the end syllable of his name catches on a sigh as it comes out of Idriss’s mouth. But he wonders. It’s his name, isn’t it? Then why does it feel so foreign when Idriss says it; like the Eliott in his name and the Eliott that he is are two completely different beings.

Outside it’s cold, but still there is a feeling of warmth – all nebulous and out of place. Eliott doesn’t know what it means, just that he isn’t used to feeling this way.

“What is it?” His voice feels hollowed, and it must have been a trick of light, but he sees Idriss flinch.

“You stood up,” his voice sounds equally grave, “again.”

Eliott has to grasp behind the lines to understand what he means. “The date,” Idriss complies, when he sees the lost look on his face.

Eliott stills for a moment. He was supposed to go on a date. But, did he want to.

“Idriss,” Eliott sighs, turning around and putting all of his weight on the railing, hoping it would swallow the thing weighing him down like mercury. “I don’t want to be set up on dates. You know that.”

Idriss doesn’t speak for a moment. But then, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself Eliott,” He lands a hand on his shoulder, “you can’t.”

Eliott stays quiet, he doesn’t know what to say. What is it he’s doing, exactly? “Forget it-,” He says, at length, “- just leave me on my own. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eliott feels it, inside him, the feling holding him getting impregnated with lead and rust when Idriss replies, “But did you – with Lucas?”

What?

Idriss reads his confusion. “Did you talk with Lucas about the reason why he didn’t want to be with you anymore?” Eliott bites his tongue and something other than physical pain fills his senses at the soft reminder of what went down mere three weeks ago.

“No,” His voice sounds scratchy, like it has taken him a great strength to get the simple word out. “Lucas doesn’t owe me an explanation. Besides, you can stop feeling for someone you thought you liked, no?”

The air is still and Eliott feels desolate from the domain outside his mind. He almost doesn’t register Idriss and his quiet, “But can you?” Almost.

There, something burns in his eyes and his chest and his throat feels awfully familiar to a thorny stem Eliott has grasped in his hands. There, outside, as leaves begin to fall and Idriss lets out a small whisper of comfort, that Eliott feels overwhelmingly small and separate from the significant part of the universe holding Lucas and the currents of waves rising from his touch.

Just tell him, Idriss says and when he leaves Eliott chants a mantra of too late too late too late in the havoc of his mind. And then Lucas comes, like a tide. He looks up at Eliott with fire behind the blue in his eyes and water raising it up instead of dimming it out. He takes away Eliott’s heart, yet again, the space in his chest feeling like a hollow piece of log left to be accumulated as moss on stagnant water and dew on drooping leaves. 

And when he leaves, he robs Eliott off of his breath like a flood does one of his belongings, leaving him wrecked and floating uncertainly in the sea of the world.

    He makes a mistake one day.

They are on the roof of Eliott’s building. Lucas’s hands are covered in gold which glitters in his soul and the stars above. His tongue tastes of mulberry and wine when Eliott licks in his mouth. His lips bleed soft kisses into the place Eliott’s neck meets his jaw. His eyes are dusty asteroids which circle into Eliott’s orbit with a force which knocks him of gravity and his breath when they close with laughter as Eliott finds the particularly ticklish spot on his neck.

I’ve been waiting for this, Lucas says, his voice light and warm and so, so soft. Eliott feels a cloud of smoke in his lungs. Me too.

He makes a mistake that day. He falls.

But then he’s standing next to the fire which Idriss and Yann created using plastic wrappers and leaves they found lying around. Lucas is a comet, the, his cold hands gripping Eliott’s as the fire pricks his eyes and the smoke in his lungs becomes a relic from before.

I can’t do this Eliott, He chokes, his voice heavy and sad and laden with so much hurt that Eliott has to take a step back. We’re – we will be better as friends. I’m sorry I just can’t.

So Eliott swallows around the charred cage in his chest doing little to keep his heart still. Okay, he whispers. Lucas’s red-rimmed eyes curving into a sad, watery smile burn like a star in Eliott’s gut.

He makes a mistake one day. He doesn’t stop falling.

    November comes, and Eliott finds himself shifting between cold winds ruffling his hair and tinging his cheeks with a cold he feels in his bones. It takes him skipping rocks among dirt and catching falling leaves in the palm of his hand. It takes him to Lucas, nestled between the shelves in his mother’s shop, eyes wide and engulfing warmth as sugar and syrup drips from his mouth and stains Eliott’s shirt in a stubborn red.

Eliott sees Lucas, sees him coming for his heart, and the pang which rises inside his chest feels sound in the void which grows around him. It becomes foreign, the security the pain brings him. But he drowns in the cold warmth encompassing him when Lucas smiles and asks him about another constellation, or when he brings Eliott’s coffee from the shop on the curb – when they talk, and their once, five month relationship becomes a fleeting whisper; a puddle after rain gone when the sun came up.

They don’t mention it, and neither their friends. Somewhere between that, Idriss takes the hint and stops trying to get Eliott to go on dates. His heart grows accustomed to having Lucas’s hold over it, and the thorns growing in his throat shrivel. They don’t fall like Eliott thought they would, and sometimes it happens that Eliott feels them digging into his windpipe, swallowing his voice when he sees Lucas from across the room. Or when his eyes glisten like gold and honey all combined into one.

He keeps taking Eliott apart, piece by piece, but Eliott grows familiar to the feeling making a home inside him. And when Lucas holds his hand and points to a falling star much like Eliott looking for a place in the universe, it doesn’t hurt.

Except when it does.

    There’s a hole in his jacket.

Eliott finds it the noon he’s inside the video store he worked at. He must have gotten it when he’s jacket got stuck in his neighbor’s fence, and in his haste, he must have pulled it, hard.

Lucas finds it funny for whatever reason when Eliott delivers him the news with sadness. His laugh rings through the speaker of Eliott’s phone. “You and that jacket, I swear.”

“It’s my favorite,” Eliott says, hoping his tone would convey his feelings to Lucas, “It’s been with me through thick and thin.”

“Yeah I know,” Lucas sounds solemn, “We’ll make it right,” Eliott believes him.

“But listen,” Lucas pauses, then begins again, “the reason I called you – I wanted to ask you something.”

Eliott holds on the phone, “Yes?”

“Sarah let me off with two passes for this art exhibition tonight. I wanted to know if you – if you’d go with me?”

Eliott’s chest gives a resounding ache which travels like water through his body, chilling his fingertips so much he can barely feel the phone held in them. The thing is – they don’t do this anymore; this just Lucas and him alone thing. He hasn’t done anything like this in such a long time that he forgot what being with Lucas – just Lucas – is like.

And he can't wait to remember. So. “Yeah,” he breathes out, “of course I’ll go.” With you.

“Perfect,” Lucas’s voice hold quiet happiness, something Eliott is sure is so fragile he’d break it if he takes another breath.

So he holds it, deep inside his lungs when Lucas says, “I’ll be at the store at 6:30. We’ll walk together.”

And he holds in when he says goodbye, a promise tethering on the edge of something so strange yet so comforting at the same time. His lungs burn, and his chest caves in.

But Eliott gets to work.

    Evening drags November to a cold, scruffy end. He can’t feel his hands when he accounts the last of the sales into the computer. It hits close to six when he finishes, and decides to spend the rest of the time till Lucas’s arrival sorting out the DVDs left on the counter.

It’s between that, one moment picking up the assortment and the other spent looking over his phone lying on the side as it lights up with a notification, that there’s the sound of someone closing the door behind them.

Eliott whips around, heart in his throat at the prospect of seeing Lucas, but the person standing in front of him takes him by surprise.

“Hi Eliott.”

Lucille’s smile is warmer; her hair is shorter, blonder. Eliott takes a hard minute to reply.

Lucille,” He’s sure his tone doesn’t do justice to the feeling she brings inside him. It’s been long – a long time since he last saw her. And that too ended on partial good terms.

But still he tries his best to smile.

“How have you been?” He asks, awkwardly placing the DVDs from where he picked them up. Lucille shrugs her shoulder, and a small laugh leaves her lips.

“Good, I’m good.” She says. Eliott nods, then, and tries to shake off the uncomfortable tension settling around him and over his shoulders. Lucille comes to his rescue, thankfully.

She points to the array of movies behind him, craning her neck to the side as she speaks, “I – I needed a recommendation, actually.”

Huh. “The movies. I – I kinda need one for uhm- this date night. My girlfriend- uh, Sophie is into screenwriting and stuff, so I want to do something to impress her.”

Eliott turns his neck sideways, “And I’m the only one you can come to for that?”

Lucille smiles sheepishly, “You know you are.”

He laughs, bright, and turns to sift through the movies he pretty much knows her girlfriend will surely appreciate. He’s always loved doing this, rec-ing stuff when asked – whether it be movies or artists or funny enough, dubstep artists to listen to.

(The credit for the last one goes mainly to Lucas, and Eliott feels proud to share that at least he’s helped him get into the kind of music he himself loves. Even when the insults Lucas throws after listening to the music are worth keeping in a jar and remembering for later.)

Lucille takes the movies he picks out.

“How are you and Lucas?”

Her tone carries an infinite amount of casualness which Eliott is sure she isn’t faking. But it makes him still – you and Lucas in a sentence together. They don’t go like that. Never have.

“We uh – we’re not together anymore.” He says, voice low and taut as he rings her up. “Uh- yeah. We broke up.”

Lucille is silent. Then, “Oh. I’m sorry.”

 He stays silent. When he’s done with her items, she takes it from him without a word. I’m sorry. It’s funny how many times he’s heard that.

“Um- Thank you,” She’s quiet, soft. Eliott smiles, as terse as that may be. “I’m happy to see you, Eliott.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m happy too.” He admits, because he is. Because she’s familiar. Because he knows her.

Lucille smiles, as she clutches the items to her chest, “If – If you’re free some time, I’d like for you to Sophie. She uh - knows about us, and I’m sure you both will like each other.”

“You’re sure?” He teases, and she slaps him lightly on his arm; familiar. Rolling her eyes, she bites back, “Yeah, idiot.” Eliott laughs; it’s warm.

“I’d love to meet her,” is what he settles on, and it’s what which has Lucille brightening up further. “Great,” she says, and leaves Eliott not before rising up on her toes and giving him a half-awkward, full warm hug which Eliott gladly accepts.

When she leaves, it becomes a game of watching the hands on the clock move. It’s fifteen minutes over the time Lucas and him and decided. But still Eliott sees no sign of him. He’s worried. There’s no text or call from him either, and Eliott knows he could do so too, but it doesn’t guarantee him not sounding desperate.

Five minutes to seven and he gives up, closing the store and walking out into the clear night sky. He spots a couple of uncluttered, adrift stars he doesn’t know yet. Cold air nips at his skin, eyes search for the sign of the familiar boy walking towards him. But he finds nothing.

He sighs, then, and starts walking in the direction of his apartment. Maybe something came up. Maybe Lucas is okay. Maybe he forgot. Maybe maybe maybe.

It’s then that the phone in his holed jacket rings, bringing him back to the now. He hustles to take it out, and as Lucas’s name blinds his eyes, his heart returns with a hopeful tingle in his chest.

His breath fogs in the dark as he whispers, “Hello?”

“Eliott,” Lucas’s voice feels distant, like they’re the same poles of a magnet and the field between them is just pushing them away.

“Lucas, are you alright?” It hurts, that it’s the first thing which comes to his mind. That something happened to Lucas – with Lucas, and he wasn’t able to make it to him. He hates it. He hates it.

“Yeah uh – I got held up. I’m sorry I couldn’t- can’t make it. I just – I didn’t – couldn’t find time to call you sooner. I’m so sorry I -.”

Eliott cuts Lucas off, “It’s alright,” his heart beats on the floor. His legs remain frozen on the sidewalk. It’s not Lucas’s fault if he found something more important than Eliott. He doesn’t owe him anything, anyway.

Eliott doesn’t hear the rest which follows. There’s something – someone on the phone behind Lucas, someone who calls Lucas – “You’re coming back Lu?” Eliott hears the voice.

Then he hears Lucas, loud and clear, “Yeah, baby, you go ahead. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Baby. Lucas only ever called Eliott that. He feels something twist inside him as his lungs burn with a ferocity which leaves him aching all over. His fingers go numb, and his feet drag painfully on the gravel.

Lucas seems to be talking, and Eliott only catches the end through the static in his head.

“I gotta go. But I – I promise I’ll make it up to you, Eli. Okay?”

Eliott purses his lips, doesn’t fight his hear combusting as a layer of heavy rust settles over it, preventing it from moving back to Lucas as he lies motionless there, on the concrete, forging stars from its dying matter.

Okay. Eliott whispers when Lucas hangs up. Then he releases his breath and starts walking.

[tearsincerulean]

It Was Always You

Summary:​ ​Y/n met the Winchester brothers a little over a year ago and has been riding with them since. But when complicated feelings arise, what will happen during their time together?

Pairing:​ ​Dean x Reader

Series Warnings:​ ​slow burn​, ​fluff, smut, angst, blood, violence, torture, fighting, individual kinks. Specific warnings before each chapter.

Chapter Warnings: ​slow burn, fluff, (female) masturbation, teasing

Word Count: 2,338

Chapter 2:

Even though Sam wanted to hit the bar right away you all needed to shower and change, and you, being the lightweight you are, needed some food in your system before you could even think about drinking and Dean didn’t protest. So, Sam took the first shower and Dean went after. Once they were both dressed and ready to go grab some grub, you hurried towards the bathroom that way you would be done and getting ready by the time they made it back.

You hear the motel door shut and then the roar of the Impala coming to life and slowly fading out, which means the boys finally left for food.You stripped off and stepped into the hot stream of water and let it clean and relax you. As you were washing your hair, you let your mind begin to wander, remembering what occurred in Baby early, the things Dean said, what he did, and how he made you feel. This snowballed into dirtier thoughts and images you have used for your pleasure on more than one occasion, I mean its hard not to think about a Winchester like that when you spend every waking second together. You begin to feel the familiar heat between your legs that had you squirming in the Impala, only this time, you don’t stop it, you welcome it. The boys know you like to take long showers, so you know you have at least another 30 minutes until they decide to head back your way, giving you the perfect opportunity to get yourself off after being so wound up the last few hours.

You close your eyes and let the hot water cascade down your clean hair and body, slowly snaking your hand between your legs and lazily rubbing your clit. You were already wet from your little daydream a minute ago, so you decide to stick with it. Eyes closed you imagine that your hand is Dean’s slowly playing with your clit, tracing small intricate circles over your sensitive bud. You imagine him standing behind you, his scruff tickling your neck and igniting every nerve in your body while he whispers all the dirty things he wants to do to you in your ear. While he continued to drive you higher and higher by circling your clit, he would use his other hand to play with your nipples, pinching, rolling, and squeezing them perfectly.

You are starting to pant now, your hand moving faster imagining the dirties images of Dean you could muster. Small moans croak out of you, the water masking the sound of what you are

doing should the boys come home early, as the knot in your lower stomach gets tighter and tighter. You circle your clit faster, imagining Dean encouraging you while his fingers work you over and make you shake. Then right when you feel like the knot is going to snap, you use your other hand to insert first one then two fingers inside of you, imagining Dean doing the same while moaning into your ear and telling you how tight you are, how warm you are, and how wet you are. You continue to finger yourself, harder and faster, while circling your clit, and as the pressure comes to an unbearable point, you imagine Dean saying “let go sweetheart, come for me”. And you do, hard. So hard, that you choke out his name while moaning and shaking and damn near blacking out. You’re glad the boys decided to go on the food run right about now, because even though you are pretty sure the water covered up any sounds you made, you’re still worried that someone could’ve heard you.

After you’ve come down from your high, you rinse off making sure to get any remnants of soap out of your hair and off of your body then you begin to shave and right as your finishing up, you hear the roar of the impala pulling back into the parking lot. You jump out of the shower and dry off, then you wrap your hair up into a towel. You quickly throw some lotion all over your body and slap some concealer and blush under your eyes and onto your cheeks finishing up with a coat of mascara to your long natural lashes. You can hear Sam and Dean’s muffled voices talking in the main room so you look for your clothes so you can hurry out to eat....but there are no clothes. In your haste to get to the bathroom and your clouded brain from the thoughts of the car ride and hunt, you must’ve forgotten to bring your clothes in with you. You unwrap the towel from your hair and wrap it around your body, mentally preparing yourself to walk out damn near naked in front of both Winchesters. You gingerly open the door and peek out, both the boys seemed to be distracted by their food and whatever they were talking about so you walk out of the bathroom, wet hair cascading down your back and the tiniest motel towel barely covering your modesty.

Unfortunately for you, your bag was by the bed nearest the door, and nearest the boys sitting at the table. It was Dean’s turn for a bed to himself which meant you were sleeping with Sammy tonight. You guys switch it up every night so that everyone has a chance for a bed to themselves and a great nights sleep. You saunter over to your and Sam’s shared bed and start digging through your bag to find the outfit you would wear out tonight, the boy’s still seemingly oblivious to your presence. You pull out a pair of black, high waisted, lacy, cheekster panties and a lacy black bralette to match. Then you pull out a black denim, high waisted skirt and a cream sweater that hangs off one of your shoulders showing the perfect amount of the bralette hidden underneath. You plan to top of the look with a pair of over the knee black boots. You gather the pile of clothes in your arms and turn to walk back to the bathroom to change.

It was then you realized that the conversation the boys were having when you first walked out was no longer filling the air. Instead, both brothers had their eyes trained on you. You look at Dean, who you catch wetting and then biting his plump lower lip while shamelessly looking you up and down. By the looks of it, his breathing is much shallower than usual but he doesn’t say

anything and neither do you. Sam, who was also staring at your mostly naked form, breaks the awkward silence for everyone.

“I got you you’re favorite. Double cheeseburger with only pickles and ketchup, some fries, and a coke. Once we are done eating we figured we would head to the bar down the road. Sound good?” You couldn’t help but notice that even though Sam was talking to you he was still staring at your body but he soon snapped out of it and went back to eating his salad. At the same time, out of the corner of your eye, you see Dean fidget in his seat, much like you were doing in baby earlier causing a familiar warmth to grow in your stomach.

“Sounds good Sammy, I’m gonna change and dry my hair a bit then I’ll eat and we can head out.” You say while fighting the rush of blood creeping up to your cheeks and the heat pooling in your legs. You can count on one of your hands the number of times you’ve been this exposed in front of the brothers and it’s usually because they had to clean up some of your wounds. On the one or two occasions something like this has happened in the past, Sam almost always had the same reaction... he eyes your body but then quickly diverts his gaze and goes back to doing whatever it was before you distracted him. Dean on the other hand would normally try to avoid eye contact at all costs, he would maybe sneak a glance or two in to check you out, but it seemed like his eyes normally avoided you like the black plague.

This time was different though. He didn’t stop, he watched every single move you made and even when you both made eye contact he wouldn’t look away. That glimmer of hope that keeps trying to fight to the surface of your mind pops up once again and this time, you don’t fight it or push it away. Instead you welcome it and decide right then and there that you were going to push the limits tonight and see how Dean would react. Looking back down at the bundle of clothes in your arms you are suddenly proud of the outfit you put together, realizing just how sexy you will look in it, maybe even sexy enough to elicit a bigger reaction from the oldest Winchester.

With this new found confidence brewing in you, you decide to wait to get dressed and instead you sit down in between the two boys and start eating your food. It was quiet for a few minutes. With Dean not taking his eyes off of your glistening body and Sam shooting him glances across the table. All the while, you hid your smug smile by taking small bites of your food or sips of your drink. You eventually broke the silence, turning directly towards Sam, your cleavage jiggling a bit as you moved, and asking “So, I just have to dry my hair and change and I’ll be ready. Is that good with you guys?” Sam choked out a small “Yeah, good for me” while desperately trying to look anywhere but your breasts that are now struggling to stay in the towel.

You stand to leave, and just as you do a thought crosses your mind. Before you get a few steps away from the table you turn and bend over slightly to pick up the drink you so conveniently left sitting right next to Dean. If Sam thought he was getting a show earlier, then Dean was getting a double feature. You literally had to hold on to the towel as you bent because your breasts nearly spilled out of the towel at the abrupt movement. You pretended to be shy and quickly turned to

head back to the bathroom, but not before hearing Dean’s breath hitch and a string of low mumbled curses leave his mouth.

As you sauntered off, swaying your hips a bit more than usual knowing that Deans eyes were still locked on you and your plump ass the towel barelyyyyy covered, you heard Dean let out the faintest of moans and release the breath he was holding which were then followed by Sam quietly giggling and lightly punching his brothers arm to snap him out of the trance you had put him in.

Slipping into the bathroom, you look into the mirror to see a devious smile plastered across your face. The blood finally rushes to your cheeks, a mixture of butterflies and heat pool in your stomach. You now have a plan, albeit not a well thought out one, but it was enough. You quickly dry your now damp hair until it is shiny, smooth, and mostly straight with a few natural waves framing your face and cascading down your back. Finally, you slip into your outfit, taking a moment to eye your figure in the black lingerie before getting fully dressed, and damn did it hug your curves just right. As you zip up your boots you take one last look at the full outfit. It was much better than what you had pictured in your head, and not only did you look sexy, but you also felt sexy too. You threw in some large hoop earrings and touched up the light makeup you threw on by adding lipgloss and some eyeshadow to complete the look you were now trying to achieve.

Both boys had their backs to you as they finished throwing on their jackets and boots. Sam was the first to turn around, “Uh..um.. Wow! Y/N, you look... um wow...” You shyly brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Thanks Sammy, it’s nothing really, just thought I should get out of my standard jeans and sweater or jeans and shirt style for a night.” “Well, it looks great Y/N, and not that I don’t like what you normally wear, but this...it suits you. You should wear it more often.” You give Sam a shy smile and look down at your boots while you blush for what feels like the thousands time today. You look over towards Dean who looks upset for whatever reason but as soon as your eyes meet his, he flashes his bright smile and the skin around his eyes crinkles in the cutest way. Now you are really blushing and smiling like an idiot.

“Yeah Sweetheart, I agree with Sammy. I mean I ​love t​ he cute, girl next door look, but damn, you look ... mhmm” He finishes the last part with a small moan and a subtle bite of his lip while his eyes roamed your body and the exposed skin. Heat rushes to your core and your cheeks are flaming hot. You wanted the attention, but damn, this isn’t what you expected. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan, maybe you should’ve thought it out a bit more. Your confidence is fading a bit, but it’s too late now, so you straighten up, plaster a smile across your face showing off your one dimple and follow Sam and Dean out the door to enjoy your first night off in some time. All the while pondering how this night is going to end, and how much alcohol you are going to need to fuel your confidence and tame the butterflies and heat mixing in your stomach.

To be continued...

Part 1:

[theloreofwhatilove]

She said the easter eggs 🐣 are lyrical 📝 instead of visual 👀 so here’s every parallel I could find so far 🔍

🍂 the 1

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit 🆚 I’m doing better than I ever was (ciwyw)

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow 🆚 if I bleed you’ll be the last to know (cruel summer) 🆚 you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding (cardigan)

roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool 🆚 have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years? (lover) 🆚 I've been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night (daylight) 🆚 once in twenty lifetimes (cardigan) 🆚️ only twenty minutes to sleep (epiphany)

for never leaving well enough alone 🆚 I never leave well enough alone (me!)

and it's another day, waking up alone 🆚 and I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side (dress) 🆚 we both wake in lonely beds, different cities (sad beautiful tragic)

🍂 cardigan

when you are young, they assume you know nothing 🆚 when you’re young you just run (this love)

high heels on cobblestones 🆚️ I was walking home on broken cobblestones (betty)

a friend to all is a friend to none 🆚 all of my enemies started out friends (the archer)

your heartbeat on the High Line 🆚 my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue (ithk)

you stepping on the last train 🆚 we wait for trains that just aren't coming (new romantics) 🆚 I stood right by the tracks (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 the train runs off its tracks (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train (tlgad)

marked me like a bloodstain 🆚 made your mark on me (dress) 🆚 you’re still all over me like a whine stained dress (clean) 🆚 this love left a permanent mark (this love) 🆚️ and you can aim for my heart, go for blood (my tears ricochet) 🆚️ sir, I think hes bleeding out (epiphany)

and when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite 🆚️ but I know I miss you, standing in your cardigan (betty)

leaving like a father, running like water 🆚 clear blue water, high tide came and brought you in (this love) 🆚 skies grew darker, currents swept you out again (this love)

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss 🆚 made your mark on me, a golden tattoo (dress)

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs 🆚 can't turn back now, I'm haunted (haunted) 🆚️ you know I didn't want to have to haunt you (my tears ricochet)

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time 🆚 it's 2am and I'm cursing your name (twily) 🆚️ cursing my name, wishing I'd stayed (my tears ricochet)

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired 🆚 you searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had (wonderland) 🆚 “what you've heard is true but I can't stop thinking about you” (style)

and you'd be standing in my front porch light 🆚 stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain, she’ll open up the door and say “are you insane?” (hygtg) 🆚 wishing you were at my door, I’d open up and you would say (enchanted) 🆚 this is the last time I let you in my door (the last time) 🆚 you find yourself at my door just like all those times before (the last time) 🆚️ and maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway (this is me trying) 🆚️ Betty, I'm here on your doorstep (betty)

and I knew you'd come back to me 🆚 this love came back to me (this love) 🆚 now you say you want it back, now that it's just too late (ayhtdws)

the smell of smoke would hang around this long 🆚️ clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke (daylight)

to kiss in cars and downtown bars 🆚️ remember when I pulled up and said "get in the car" (august) 🆚️ pulled the car off the road to the lookout (this is me trying) 🆚️ remember when you hit the brakes too soon? (ootw) 🆚️ all I know is that you drive us off the road (ayhtdws) 🆚️ "I rent a place on Cornelia Street" I say casually in the car (cornelia street) 🆚️ we were in the backseat drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar (cornelia street) 🆚️ I'm drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (cruel summer) 🆚️ she said "James, get in, let's drive" (betty) 🆚️ lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we can follow the sparks, I'll drive (ithk)

🍂 last great american dynasty

their parties were tasteful, if a little loud 🆚 it was so nice throwing big parties (tiwwchnt)

there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen 🆚 in the end in wonderland we both went mad (wonderland) 🆚 it's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind (wonderland) 🆚️ and there's nothing like a mad woman, what a shame she went mad, no one likes a mad woman (mad woman) 🆚️ they'd paint me out to be bad so, it's okay that I'm mad (the man)

filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names 🆚 jump into the pool from the balcony, everyone swimming in a champagne sea (tiwwchnt) 🆚 in the winter, in the icy outdoor pool, when you jumped in first, I went in too (paper rings) 🆚️ roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool (the 1)

Holiday House sat quietly on that beach, free of women with madness, heir men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me 🆚 bad bad boy, shiny toy with a price, you know that I bought it (cruel summer)

I had a marvelous time ruining everything 🆚️ they say I did something bad but why's it feel so good? most fun I ever had and I'd do it over and over and over again if I could (idsb)

🍂 exile

you’re not my homeland anymore 🆚 our country guess it was a lawless land (dbatc)

you were my town 🆚 you’re the west village (false god)

now I’m in exile seeing you out 🆚 and I can still see you; this ain't the best view, on the outside, lookin' in (the outside) 🆚️ visions of dazzling rooms I'll never get let into (beautiful ghosts)

I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending 🆚 music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie, it's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see (breathe) 🆚 tried to change the ending (cardigan)

you were my crown 🆚 they took the crown (ciwyw)

I think I’ve seen this film before so I’m leaving out the side door 🆚 you gotta leave before you get left (idsb) 🆚 should’ve known I’d be the first to leave (getaway car)

we always walked a very thin line 🆚 you and I walk a fragile line (haunted) 🆚 lost your balance on a tight rope (innocent) 🆚️ I'm still on that tight rope (mirrorball)

there is no amount of crying I can do for you 🆚 you never did give a damn thing honey but I cried, cried for you (cold as you)

you didn’t even hear me out 🆚 could you just try to listen? (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing (clean)

🍂 my tears ricochet

and if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too 🆚️ and if I get burned, at least we were electrified (dress)

even on my worst day did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? 🆚️ even in my worst times you could see the best of me (dress)

and if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? 🆚️ if the story's over why am I still writing pages? (dbatc)

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves 🆚️ loose lips sink ships all the damn time (ikp)

cause when I'd fight you used to tell me I was brave 🆚️ this ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight (afterglow) 🆚️ if you wanna fight, baby let's go (battle) 🆚️ now we're fighting dirty (battle) 🆚️ fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves (afterglow) 🆚️ combat, I'm ready for combat (the archer)

🍂 seven

I was too scared to jump in 🆚️ don't be afraid to jump then fall (jump then fall)

🍂 august

but I can see us lost in the memory 🆚️ hold on to the memories (new years day) 🆚️ I bet these memories follow you around (wildest dreams)

and I can see us twisted in bedsheets 🆚️ you see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night (wildest dreams) 🆚️ and I can still see it all in my mind, all of you, all of me, intertwined (daylight)

cancel plans just in case you'd call 🆚️ paper cut stings from our paper thin plans (dbatc) 🆚️ I never planned on you changing your mind (last kiss) 🆚️ my best laid plan (hoax) 🆚️ I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans (ithk)

cancel plans just in case you'd call and say "meet me behind the mall" 🆚️ phone lights up my nightstand in the black "come here, you can meet me in the back" (delicate)

🍂 this is me trying

they told me all of my cages were mental 🆚️ gold cage, hostage to my feelings (so it goes) 🆚️ put you in jail for something you didn't do (afterglow)

and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad 🆚️ I've been the archer, I've been the prey (the archer) 🆚️ they strike to kill and you know I will (mad woman)

and it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound 🆚️ what do you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know? (tmik) 🆚️ and it was like slow motion,standing there in my party dress, in red lipstick, with no one to impress (tmik) 🆚️ all of the moment I knew tbh

🍂 illicit affairs

tell yourself you can always stop what started in beautiful rooms 🆚️ visions of dazzling rooms I'll never get let into (beautiful ghosts)

a drug that only worked the first few hundred times 🆚️ my drug is my baby, I'll be using for the rest of my life (dont blame me) 🆚️ gave up on me like I was a bad drug (dbatc)

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me 🆚️ we made quite a mess babe (I almost do) 🆚️ I've been picking up the pieces of the mess you've made (ayhtdws) 🆚️ I'm a mess but I'm the mess that you wanted (dwoht)

and you know damn well for you I would ruin myself 🆚️ for you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face (dont blame me) 🆚️ nothing safe is worth the drive (treacherous)

you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else 🆚️ the rest of the world was black and white, but was were in screaming color (ootw)

🍂 invisible string

cutting me open, then healing me fine 🆚️ paper cut stings from our paper thin plans (dbatc) 🆚️ so cut the headlights, summer's a knife, I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone (cruel summer) 🆚️ but I'll be alright it's just a thousand cuts (dbatc)

pulled me out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar 🆚️ dive bar on the east side, where you at? (delicate)

🍂 mad woman

do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? 🆚️ I see your face in my mind as I walk away (breathe)

no one likes a mad woman, you made her like that 🆚️ look what you made me do (lwymmd) 🆚️ dont blame me, love made me crazy (dont blame me)

and women like hunting witches, too 🆚️ theure burning all the witches even if you arent one (idsb)

does she smile? or does she mouth "fuck you forever"? 🆚️ but if I just showed up at your party would you have me? would you want me? would you tell me to go fuck myself (betty)

🍂 betty

you heard the rumors from Inez, you can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true 🆚️ the rumors are terrible and cruel, but honey, most of them are true (new romantics) 🆚️ ain't it funny, rumors fly, and I know you heard about me (blank space)

in the garden would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? 🆚️ and I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate (cruel summer) 🆚️ I dont trust nobody, and nobody trusts me (lwymmd)

I don't know anything but I know I miss you 🆚️ I don't know how to be something you miss (last kiss)

just thinking of you when she pulled up 🆚️ he says, "what you've heard is true but I can't stop thinking about you" (style)

🍂 peace

the devil's in the details but you got a friend in me 🆚️ it's nice to have a friend (inthaf)

you paint dreamscapes on the wall 🆚️ you put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray (cold as you)

I talk shit with my friends 🆚️ if a man talks ahit then I owe him nothing (idsb)

and you know that I'd swing with you for the fences 🆚️ lights flash and we'll run for the fences (ikp)

give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other 🆚️ you can hear it in the silence (you are in love)

but I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm 🆚️ he built a fire just to keep me warm (ciwyw)

all these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret 🆚️ I, I loved you in secret, first sight, yeah, we love without reason (dwoht)

🍂 hoax

my twisted knife 🆚️ I brought a knife to a gun fight (ciwyw)

your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in 🆚️ even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love (false god)

don't want no other shade of blue but you 🆚️ deep blue but you painted me golden (dwoht) 🆚️ it's blue, the feeling I've got (cruel summer) 🆚️ I'm with you even if it makes me blue (paper rings) 🆚️ my hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue (lover) 🆚️ we're so sad we paint the town blue (ma&thp) 🆚️ I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue (afterglow)

you knew the hero died, so what's the movie for 🆚️ you know the greatest films of all time were never made (the 1) 🆚️ all of my heroes died all alone (the archer)

you knew it still hurts underneath my scars 🆚️ with every guitar string scar on my hand (lover) 🆚️ you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding (cardigan)

you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? 🆚️ but now we've stepped into a cruel world where everybody stands and keeps score (eyes open)

my only one, my kingdom come undone 🆚️ I dont like your kingdom keys, they once belonged to me (lwymmd)

[strawberryspeachy]

My mom always used to say that it was good that we had mice - because it meant that we didnt have rats.

My family told this story over and over about my uncle waking up and finding a rat on his bed - it was when he decided he really needed to move

I was thinking about how the time we left, i heard rats in the walls.... just sliding down the fucking wall. And id bang on it to make them go away. For a moment i remembered it as just normal

But it wasnt. Most of my life at my house, we didnt have rats. And i was mortified when they showed up

But i just... got used to it. It bothered me... and i didnt like seeing them in the kitchen at night...but i just.... dealt with it

A hole appeared on my ceiling in the last couple years - it was the size of a the ink in a pen. My mother kept spilling stuff and it would pour into my room. I was fighting with her over it.

She broke everything that wasnt broken in the house. I started taping up the walls and the floors to keep the wolf spiders in the basement and out of rooms that i sat in

I was terried to clean the house because i knew at any moment a giant spider could come running out of where i was cleaning

The animals pissing and shitting everywhere could be changed if people didnt allow them. Shit being caked into the floorboards could be changed in my grandfather gave a fuck.

I can never show ppl the horrors that i saw because i never took pictures. I just got sick it was every few months and immediately started to clean. I didnt want to prolong the experience or resentment by taking pictures...

I didnt want to leave that house. It was my home. It will always be my home.

My creepy smelly haunted ancient falling apart infested home.

The toilets were like the first plumbing ever made when we moved in. There was black seaweed like stuff swimming at the bottom. It would overflow everytime you flushed it and pour through the living room ceiling...

he windows were disgusting and dirty and they didnt stay up on theirg own

My rooms floor was seperating from the wall. There was cat litter behind the radiator that no matter how hard i cleaned - i coildnt get - a reminder of my 18 year old cats habbits

The back door was broken. My mom put plastic on it which the cats ripped open to jump through like a doggy door - scaring the life out of me. The glass door past it didnt shut - my mom tied a leash to it and kept it closed that way. It would swing open with the wind and creek.

The ghosts scared me

The sheds were falling apart

The barn had carpenter bees

The hayfeild was next to the turnpike and two other major roads... it was loud and there was no privacy

The third feild was mostly marshland

The property was full of poisonous plants that could paralyze you and picky weeds that burned if they touched you. The small little feild at the bottom always had too many bees

The backyard sloped

But there was so much beauty. Though the crick was drying up from the houses built on the other side of the hill - i remembered the ducks and filling up water buckets and daydreaming in the tree above. Trying to get accross the rocks and my dog drinking. The big stream where i went swimming and once saw a lobster. The feild was open - multiflora rose gone to the hungry goats over the years. The trees that used to be apple trees where i sat and ate till i was full and the spot where my favorite one stood - where my mom and i had picnics.

That feeling from the back feild tbat felt like true serenity and the cool sheild from the summer heat beneath the congested bit of pine trees.

I remember my trecks down the crick - trying to jump from rock to rock

And the time i tried to stand on the ice where the marsh was - enjoying watching my family ice skate before falling and hurting my head

The quiet snowy nights that i sled down the hayfeild with my aunt

The warm fluffy feeling of a barn FULL of animals.

The sheds that alternated as storage or more room for more animals.

The path i used to take up to the barn before everything on the path fell apart

Id walk around and find peices.... things.... that my mom, me, or someone in my family had set down.... not knowing that it would never be picked up again

Our animal graveyard.... because we loved them so much...

The reminince where the big light used to shine over the ducks and backyard - when we had night parties with candles and tents and all the normal stuff a family has

The back of the house leading to the basement where my first dog used to live and my personal garden leading up to it

The dog yard with the table - the first place i played with my greatgrandmothers dog before we moved into the house

The comfort of my parking lot - knowing that im finally home

Driving to the top of the hill before getting there and looking down on my property- the send setting over the lake so beautifully.

My house was in ruins.... all my momories were there. All the love.... you could find peices of it everywhere

So i was just thinking.... how there were rats in my walls... but they ended up being just an annoying addition that i didnt put much thought into

Because id put up with a lot to keep something i love....

And idk what to do about it. Without my pets it was already hard. Watching everything i knew and loved break fall apart and be abandoned... was hard for a number of years. The place doesnt mean so much witout my animals and family - all the love that made it was a warm place. Even if i could have afforded to keep it... it wouldnt be a nice place to be alone...

But it all went so fast... just like my mom.... and i still dont know how to face that.

I always dream that im there. I always dream im with my mom.

I cant make another place full of love and warmth.... without everything and everyone that is was lost at that house....

Although its a skeliton now it still encapsulates those memories...: and while it hurt to keep remembering things that were gone... now i remember them but its not tangible

[freebooter4ever]

Eugene’s Fourth Date

AU where Eugene and Merriell meet before the war. Merriell Shelton is about to meet Eugene’s parents and have dinner with them for the first time (along with his sister of course). And afterwards Eugene takes Merriell to the nearby old watering hole where he and Sid used to go skinny dipping as kids. There Eugene makes Merriell an offer he can’t ignore.

Merriell is uncomfortable being served. Eugene sees it in Merriell's eyes as the other boy tracks the movement of Rose and Tee around the table. Instead of treating servants as a natural part of the ebb and flow of everyday dinner, Mer takes the time to say please and thank you after each serving. It contradicts all the social etiquette Eugene grew up surrounded in.

Luckily Eugene's parents are so busy answering Mairzy's uninhibited stream of questions, they don't seem to notice her brother's discomfort.

Mairzy is the star of the table. She is precocious and quick to laugh and chatty in a way that includes everyone whether or not they want to be included. Even his father's stoic demeanor melts when Mairzy starts talking about saving a litter of kittens and taking care of them till she could bring them to school and adopt them into good homes.

"Took a quarter of my paycheck just to feed 'em every week," Merriell whispers to Eugene in a quiet complaint. Mer finds Eugene's hand under the tablecloth and pulls it into his lap. Despite Mer's words, Eugene can see he's proud of his little sister. His eyes shine, and his smile is beautifully genuine again. Mer is hard to resist when he is so temptingly happy. Eugene squeezes their hands together hard, but it isn't enough.

There's a part of him that wants to clasp their hands together above the table. He wants to be able to lean in and kiss Merriell on the cheek. And to have his mother beam proudly at him like she does with his brother and his fiance.

His father says something while Eugene's mind is wandering. Whatever was said, it makes Merriell laugh. And when Merriell throws his head back in a guffaw, all Eugene can think about is kissing his neck.

"Gene," Merriell leans in and mutters to him.

It startles Eugene out of his reverie, "Yeah?"

"You're staring," Merriell says quiet enough that only Eugene can hear.

"Sorry," Eugene turns back to the table at large.

Unexpectedly Eugene feels Merriell's forefinger run tantalizingly down the inside of Eugene's wrist. If Mer wants Eugene to stop being distracted he's certainly not helping. Eugene's entire focus is on Merriell, even when he's not looking at him. 

He tries not to hold it against him.

As dinner comes to a close, Eugene notices Merriell getting twitchy. Every time Rose brings out a new platter of desserts, Merriell starts eyeing the empty plates already on the table like he's about to pounce. Eugene senses that any moment the boy will leap up and start clearing dirty dishes.

"Mother, I was telling Mairzy about the collection of books you kept from your childhood," Eugene says, "Would you mind showing her?"

"Oh, what a great idea," his mother exclaims, "Yes, you must see our library." she daintily rises from the dinner table and helps Mairzy out of her chair. The two of them make their way into the hall and his father excuses himself to disappear into his study - once again leaving Eugene and Merriell on their own.

After a brief second of eye contact between them, Merriell gets to his feet and starts organizing dishes into piles.

"Mer," Eugene admonishes and places his hand gently on top of Shelton's, "Let me do this. You go join Mairzy in the library."

Merriell turns his hand around and catches Eugene's wrist. He tugs Gene a few steps closer and presses their lips together. Eugene encircles his hands around Merriell's slim waist and kisses him back tenderly. It only takes that little bit of encouragement for Mer to thread his fingers into Eugene's hair and press forward the last few inches till their bodies are flush.

Eugene pours into the kiss all the pining and affection he hid during dinner.

Mer is overwhelmed by it. He breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against Gene's cheek. "Jesus, Gene," he murmurs. His hands remain tangled tight in Eugene's hair. He sags against Eugene's body, clinging like Eugene sucked all the life out of him.

"Don't let my mother hear you take the lord's name in vain like that," Eugene scolds playfully.

"Don't think it's my mouth she's gotta be worried about," Mer murmurs back, "Exactly how much practice have you gotten with that, Sledge?"

"Just you," Eugene replies, "And Sid once when we were kids. Guess I'm a quick learner."

"Ahem," Rose gently clears her throat.

Without warning Merriell slips out of Eugene's grasp and disappears down the hall like a ghost. Eugene is left suddenly bereft and wondering how he got that way.

"Sorry!" Eugene says nervously to Rose, "Let me help you." He finishes organizing the plates Merriell started collecting. His hands are shaking a little too hard to be gentle enough. He drops two bowls together and one of them cracks.

"Eugene?" Rose says quietly, in the same voice she used when he was a kid - when he regularly got caught drawing in his notebooks instead of doing homework.

"I'm so sorry, I'll get the broom, or…" he starts.

"Eugene, it's okay. Just be careful," Rose says with her meaning clearly extending to things beyond broken dishes.

He stops cleaning the table and looks at her. Her eyes are kind, and sympathetic. "Thank you," he nods, "Thank you, I will."

"How about you wash, and I'll clear?" she suggests with a little smile.

Eugene feels a wash of relief. "Good idea," he says, and retreats to the kitchen to start the water. It's calming, doing the dishes for Rose. He hasn't done this since high school started, and it makes him stop and think about why.

Once all the dishes are off the table Rose starts taking the clean dishes from Eugene and drying them. It's a familiar pattern, and Eugene finds himself quickly calming down.

"He's very handsome, your boy," Rose comments, "He has a good smile."

Eugene grins despite himself, "He is. Very handsome."

"I have a younger brother in Philadelphia," Rose says, "He lives with his best friend of over ten years there, they're very happy together."

"Not sure if that fits within my mother's definition of happiness," Eugene says in a small voice, "But, I appreciate it."

"If you find love in unstable times, be sure to embrace it," Rose advises.

Eugene chuckles. Embracing Merriell is definitely not the problem. Leaving his embrace, on the other hand…."I'll try," he promises.

When the dishes are finished, Eugene walks back towards the library. He stops before he gets there. Because at the end of the hall is the silhouette of Merriell standing just outside and out of sight of the open library door - listening in secret.

Knowing both his parents are occupied, Eugene steps forward and places a hand on the small of Merriell's back.

Shelton flinches away.

"Everything is fine," Eugene whispers, "We can trust Rose."

Merriell nods without turning around. He watches Eugene's mother read a book to Mairzy. She and Mairzy are sitting in one of the library's large wingback chairs facing away from the door. From the sound of it the novel is Anne of Green Gables. A reasonable choice for a talkative little girl with a wild imagination and no parents.

Merriell is unusually silent. He leans his face against the door jamb and stares. His expression is hollow, and it scares Eugene a little.

"Shelton," Eugene says quietly, sliding his hand into the other boy's, "Follow me?"

Merriell turns to him, looks at him blankly, and then nods once. Eugene leads him out the backdoor to the wraparound porch. There's a porch swing back here, hidden behind a windowless alcove of the house.

Eugene takes a seat and waits for Shelton to join him.

Merriell settles on the opposite side of the swing from Eugene and draws his knees up to his chest. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

Normally Eugene's mother would murder anyone smoking on her property but tonight Eugene lets it slide.

"My mother always did want a daughter," Eugene remarks.

Merriell barks a laugh. "My ma never did," he says.

"What, seriously?" Eugene asks, confused.

"Yup. Didn't want a son, neither," Merriell says.

"She didn't want kids?" Eugene asks.

"Nope," Merriell says.

"I thought women wanting to be mothers was the natural state of things," Eugene says.

Merriell shrugs, "I never blamed her. Food was too expensive, clothes were too expensive. Couldn't do a thing about it. 'Cept wish to not exist. She did what she could."

"What did your father do?" Eugene asks.

"Whatever he could," Merriell says, "Shit Eugene, not everybody has a job as steady as a doctor's. I never saw my pa do one job longer than a year. My favorite was the gas station. I could crawl from my bedroom into the rafters above the pumps and watch the people come and go."

"You lived inside a gas station?" Eugene asks.

"When it's the only building around for miles, you ain't got much choice," Merriell answers, "The station was on a long stretch of road that people had to drive through but didn't like to settle down on."

"Was that the last place you lived before your parents…" he trails off, feeling unable to voice the tragedy.

"No, after I looked old enough to be eighteen my parents took me out of school and we relocated to a CCC camp outside of New Orleans. I was fifteen. Lived there for a couple years," Merriell says.

"Mer...if that was only a few years ago? How long has it been since your parents…?" Eugene starts to ask.

Merriell shakes his head with a wry smile, "My parents were gone long before they died."

"What do you mean?" Eugene asks.

Merriell shrugs and looks away, slouching further into his seat.

Eugene carefully scoops up Merriell's legs and draws Merriell's feet into his lap.

Mer watches him do this, and then says, "Ma was always angry. Pa stopped talking after Mairzy was born. The minute Mairzy could be bottle fed, I was put in charge of her. Could barely read myself let alone read to her."

"How old were you?" Eugene asks.

"Ten," Merriell replies.

"Ten years old? And you couldn't read?" Eugene is shocked. Even his friends who were the slowest and least studious could read by age eight.

"Couldn't read well," Merriell leans his head back to breathe smoke outside of the porch alcove.

His long neck is tempting Eugene again.

Merriell continues talking without looking at him, "I bet you were one of those kids learned to read by age four, weren't you? Second son of a doctor, they probably had you studying books before you could walk."

"It's true, I could read by the age of three," Eugene admits, "Won my first drawing competition at age four."

Merriell laughs without humor. It changes into a hacking cough as he puts his cigarette out on the back of the swing - another thing that would earn Eugene a whopping if he ever tried it.

 "Why do you even bother with me, Gene?" Merriell asks in his laziest drawl. He's smiling, but it's slightly maniacal, and it's still directed towards the ceiling.

There are so many answers to Merriell's question, Eugene doesn't even know where to begin. He remembers Shelton coming alive while running the boat engine, but slowing as soon as Eugene showed even the slightest hint of nerves; remembers Shelton singing and inventing funny lyrics to make his little sister laugh; Shelton expertly counting cards and cheating a bunch of old hands twice his age out of their money; Shelton getting excited over a new adhesive in order to fix a birdhouse; Shelton simultaneously chastising him and complimenting his drawings; Shelton whispering 'cher' to him even though they'd only been apart for under an hour.

Eugene stands up. "Can I show you something?" he asks.

"Not in the mood," Merriell mutters and stubbornly refuses to turn his head.

"You said you moved around a lot," Eugene continues to talk in spite of Shelton's mood, "I take it then that you probably never lived in one area long enough to grow up with any special spots or secret hideaways?"

"You gonna make love to me in one of your secret hideaways, Eugene?" Shelton asks in a taunting voice.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Eugene says quite seriously to counteract Shelton's frivolity, "Though I'm also not saying no."

Shelton laughs again. He drops his head back down and looks at Gene. And although Shelton still wears his sarcasm like a protective blanket, there is a light in his eyes that makes Eugene's stomach do flip-flops. Eugene may not have a full grasp on what 'making love' in secret entails but Shelton clearly knows. And a small, guilty part of Eugene desperately, desperately wants to find out.

He shoves those feelings and unexpected urges down - that isn't what Eugene needs to focus on tonight. Shelton is trying to distract him and turn this into some lustful heavy petting session, rather than deal with some of the frankly worrying things Shelton himself has said. Eugene makes his decision.

"Follow me," Eugene beckons over his shoulder, "Knowing my mother, she'll be reading that entire book to Mairzy for the next few hours. We have time."

"Eugene, I'm not following!" Merriell calls stubbornly after him.

Eugene ignores him and continues on past the white picket fence at the edge of his father's property. He climbs over and starts walking into the sparsely wooded forest.

"Gene!" Merriell's voice becomes more anxious as he realizes Eugene is not stopping.

A few minutes later Merriell crashes into Eugene's back and almost sets them both on fire with his lighter flicked on and held aloft.

"Gene, are you crazy? Going off alone in the trees at night, in the dark?" Merriell demands. He grabs Eugene by the collar and shakes him.

"Mer, I've lived here my entire life, I could walk these woods with my eyes closed," Eugene laughs.

Merriell's eyes are wide with fear and worry, and his hair is standing on end. He's awfully cute. Eugene takes Merriell's wrists, pulls the lighter safely out of his hand, and kisses his nose softly.

"Now follow me," Eugene says happily.

"Aren't there...bears? Or wolves?" Merriell remains unconvinced.

"Might run into some feral deer," Eugene jokes lightly.

"Feral deer??" Merriell stops in his tracks.

"I'm kidding, Shelton," Eugene says over his shoulder as he carefully makes his way downhill, "Just trust me."

Merriell sticks close. Almost too close. Half the time Eugene swears the bottom of his shirt keeps getting pulled taught and stretched out by Merriell clutching onto the fabric. Eugene doesn't say anything though, he lets Merriell keep his pride.

"This is it?" Merriell asks when they arrive at the destination, "You brought me to water?"

"A watering hole," Eugene corrects him. He picks up the largest rock he can hold and lobs it into the small bend in the creek that is wider than the rest. It makes a loud plunk and drops below the surface. "You can jump in here and go down almost ten feet. We used to dive when we were little."

"Joy," Merriell says flatly.

"C'mon," Eugene unhooks the old tire swing from a tree branch, "Don't be a spoilsport."

"No way," Merriell backs away from the riverbank, "No way are you getting me anywhere near that mud. Still-water's got amoebas in it. Brain eating parasites."

Eugene starts unbuttoning his shirt, "I figured if you never stayed in one place long, you missed out on having a local watering hole, or tree fort, or any of those things. And this isn't still-water, it's an offshoot of the river."

"Eugene," Merriell pleads.

Eugene folds his shirt neatly and places it in the grass under the tree. He yanks his undershirt over his head and folds it too. He unbuckles his belt, gets his pants off, and has his hands on his drawers when Merriell finally moves. He awkwardly trips down the bank and places his hands on top of Eugene's.

 "Gene, maybe you and 'Sid' went skinny dipping as kids but…" Merriell trails off.

"But what?" Eugene teases, leaning in with a smile, "Afraid all the blood in your brain will fill up with parasites?"

"My brain is not where all my blood is flowing to right now," Merriell says.

"Okay," Eugene shrugs and backs off, "Underwear stays on." He grins at Merriell and then takes a running leap at the hanging tire. He catches hold of the rubber at the last second, swings out over the water, and lets go with a whoop.

He can hear Merriell swearing on the riverbank the entire time.

Eugene hits the water in a cannonball. The jump sends him down deep. The water is freezing, but it feels good after the sticky humidity of early fall. Eugene lets himself sink for a bit just to enjoy the feeling of cool peace. And then he kicks towards the surface.

To his surprise, large strong hands wait for him in the middle of the pool. Merriell dives below the surface, grabs Eugene underneath his shoulders, and hauls him up. They break through the water and Eugene shakes Merriell's hands off him.

"I'm fine, why…?" Eugene complains.

"You were under...so long…" Merriell takes huge gasping breaths. He flails as he treads water, clearly not as comfortable with swimming as Gene.

"Did you jump in after me with your clothes on?" Eugene asks, "In your Sunday Best?!"

"Shut up, Sledge," Merriell turns and starts kicking his way back to the riverbank.

"Okay, but now you have to try the tire swing," Eugene calls.

"No," Merriell says. He clambers out of the river and stands skinny and shivering on the grass. The only part of him not soaked are his new leather shoes which he apparently had the foresight to take off before jumping.

"You're already wet!" Eugene calls, "What do you have to lose?"

"My dignity," Merriell grumbles.

Eugene decides to try another tactic. He swims to the opposite bank and steps onto the underwater ledge that divides the deep hole from the shallow riverbed. He stands in the knee deep water, and turns to face Shelton, well aware that his wet underwear, molded to his skin and almost transparent, leaves little to the imagination.

"If you want me, you gotta swing over on the tire to get me," he calls.

"Fuck you!" is Shelton's response.

"Don't be a chicken, Shelton!" Eugene runs his hands over his hair to get the excess water out of his face and then down his chest. He sees Shelton's eyes following his movements the entire time.

"Asshole!" Shelton yells. He fights his way out of his wet dress shirt and throws it on top of Eugene's neatly folded, dry clothes. Eugene supposes he deserves that. The pants come next. Shelton struggles getting the clingy wet fabric off his legs, but eventually he succeeds. The pants get tossed on top of Eugene's pile too. When he finally stands straight again, Shelton's shoulders are hunched from the discomfort of wet underwear and he looks more annoyed than aroused.

Eugene watches him with amusement. Being able to see Shelton half naked in the moonlight should be illegal. Actually, now that Eugene thinks about it, it probably is - public indecency or something. Everything about what they're doing right now could be classified as indecent. His mother would die of shock. She would never believe her precious youngest son capable of such things.

Eugene smiles. He bends slightly to gather the dripping wet ends of his baggy underwear and squeezes the fabric to wring it out. He keeps his eyes on Shelton the entire time. And when he finally gets the last drop of excess water out of his clothes, he releases the fabric to fall back around his knees. It takes mere minutes for the still damp cloth to mold itself around his body like a second skin.

Shelton is staring like his entire soul has taken flight out of his body - entirely mindless. The boy leans far over the riverbank as if drawn physically closer by a magnet. Eugene is concerned Shelton will tip into the water involuntarily. Shelton's eyes slowly travel up Eugene's form until they meet his own.

"Careful with your footing," Eugene cautions with a teasing grin, "You might fall in."

"You're not playing fair," Merriell accuses.

"All's fair in love and war," Eugene retorts.

Shelton's eyes widen in surprise. He takes a step away from the river and leans lazily on his back foot, his head up confidently and his shoulders squared as if he is preparing for a defense. "That what this is?" Merriell asks.

"Is what?" Eugene replies.

"You know what," Merriell says. His voice is low, and rather commanding.

"Yeah," Eugene smiles, suddenly giddy, "Yeah, okay," he says, drawing the tension out, "It might be."

"What'd you say?" Merriell yells back, lifting his chin and looking cocky.

"I'm in love with you," Eugene admits simply.

"What?" Merriell calls. He cups a hand to his ear and takes a step closer.

"I love you, Merriell Shelton!" Eugene yells across the water.

The grin Merriell gives him after Eugene blurts out those five words will be burned in Eugene's memory forever. 

Merriell leaps onto the tire swing and soars out over the water. Except he doesn't let go. He clings to the tire, one leg through the center and the other wrapped around it like a monkey. "Fuck!" he yells, mid panic.

"Let go!" Eugene yells back, laughing hysterically.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Merriell tries to reach out towards the tree as he swings once more towards the riverbank, but he is nowhere close to catching any of the branches.

"Let go, you idiot!" Eugene implores him.

"I can't!" Merriell yells.

"You can do this, Merriell," Eugene promises.

Merriell wiggles his leg out of the center of the tire and braces himself against the side. He gyrates his hips to gain momentum - an act which leaves Eugene blushing hot under his metaphorical collar - and at the apex of his swing, Merriell lets go.

He doesn't jump, unfortunately. Instead he flops limply off the tire, gets his foot caught halfway, tips himself upside down, thrusts his leg free, and tumbles head first into the water with a large splash. Eugene splashes in after him and is treading water beside Merriell when he surfaces.

Shelton intentionally sends a wave of water into Eugene's face.

Eugene sputters, and laughs, and continues to tread water, gradually drifting closer to Merriell.

The other boy is shivering even while he splashes around to keep himself afloat. His hair is plastered flat to his face with a single curl drooping down his forehead.

"Mer?" Eugene asks, to make sure he's listening.

Merriell grunts in return and spits out a stream of water. The only other sound is the soft ripple of the creek spilling over the rocks and around them. The waves reflect the moonlight, bouncing it onto their faces and making Merriell's eyes glow brightly. It feels like they're the only two people in the world.

Just them and a couple thousand insects chirruping in the trees like an angry symphony.

"I'd die for you," Eugene declares, dead serious, and feeling like if he doesn't say it now, he might not get another chance to make Merriell fully understand.

Merriell stares at him, his eyes entirely expressionless.

"I mean…I know I can't," Eugene says. It's a little hard to get the words out. He's slightly breathless from his exertion churning water to stay afloat. Merriell silently waits through every pause. He doesn't interrupt once.

 "I know I can't, but if I could…" Eugene finishes, "I'd go off to war....and I'd fight for you."

At first Merriell doesn't react. He just continues staring.

And then he lunges forward - as well as one can lunge in water. He shoves Eugene backward until the underwater ledge hits Eugene's legs. Eugene barely has time to hoist himself up so he's sitting on the ledge before he suddenly has Merriell in his lap, with Mer's hands clutched to his face, and Mer's lips locked on his, and Mer's legs hitched around his waist. Merriell is shaking as he kisses Eugene. Eugene wraps his arms around Merriell and holds him as tight as he can.

The river rushes around them. The water hits Eugene at about waist height. Eugene's body feels ice cold except for the areas pressed tight against Merriell's warm skin. When he runs his hands down Merriell's arms he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

The intensity of Mer's response almost makes Eugene feel guilty. It feels like such a small thing to say he'd fight for Merriell when chances are slim that he'll ever be given an opportunity to do so. His sacrifice seems inadequate when what he really wants is to give Merriell the world.

Merriell breaks the kiss and turns his face in towards Eugene's neck. He tries to muffle the noise so it takes Eugene a few minutes to realize he is crying.

"Smart move. I hear if you let it all out, the parasites can't eat your brain no more," he informs Shelton.

Merriell blubbers on a laugh and pushes further into Eugene's embrace. "The amoeba's are all over your shoulder now," Merriell warns, in a taunting voice that makes it sound like somehow it's Eugene's fault. Merriell sticks his finger in the puddle of snot that leaked from his nose onto Eugene and smears the goop down Eugene's back in an apparent attempt to clean it off. Obviously he fails.

Eugene says nothing but is secretly grateful they'll have to swim back to the opposite side eventually so he can covertly wash everything off.

After Merriell calms down and is breathing normally again, Eugene tilts his head in for a small kiss, snot and tears be damned. "Let's get out of the cold water," he suggests.

Merriell laughs again and nods. But when he briefly lifts his weight off Eugene's lap, instead of standing Merriell simply shifts so he's planted more firmly on top of Eugene's legs. He lifts his eyes to meet Eugene's.

Both of them are reluctant to let go, so they sit and breathe together.

Eugene doesn't want to leave because even though heading back to his house might mean warmth and dry clothes, it also means he has to distance himself from Shelton. Pretend that he doesn't feel a magnetic urge to touch him every single dang minute they're in the same room.

Eventually Merriell leans over and blows his nose one last time on Eugene's shoulder. For someone so terrified of germs he is absolutely unafraid of spreading his own. Eugene suppresses a laugh. Though he also starts the process of getting them both to stand. Merriell wobbles on his bare feet and slips a little on the slick rock. Eugene catches him and they're back to holding each other again.

"I'd still fight for you even when you're all snotty and goose-pimple-y," Eugene tells him.

"Idiot," Merriell says. Despite the meanness, he's smiling.

"Over you, maybe," Eugene admits, smiling back. He pinches Merriell's side.

The other boy laughs, elbows Eugene out of the way, and dives back into the water to swim to the opposite riverbank.

Seizing the chance, Eugene crouches down in the water and quickly washes off all the mucus and whatever else came out of Shelton and landed on his back.

"You're a slow swimmer Gene," Merriell taunts after Eugene finally makes it to the other side and starts to get dressed. 

Eugene steals Merriell's wet pants and slaps him with them. Which starts a tussle that considerably dampens Eugene's once dry clothes. Eugene wrestles Shelton to the ground for all of five seconds before Merriell gains the upper hand and shoves Eugene down instead.

"I can't get grass stains on my nice white shirt," Merriell says, sitting triumphantly on Eugene's chest. His teeth gleam equally white in the moonlight.

Eugene grins back and drags him down into a kiss.

Merriell laughs, gets his hands around Eugene's wrists, and pins them to the ground above his head. He gazes down at Eugene with a confidence Eugene hasn't seen before.

For his part, Eugene willingly sacrifices the cleanliness of his own shirt to the grass for the sake of kissing Shelton. He doesn't point out that the knees of Shelton's pants are taking quite a beating where they're digging into the dirt. Neither of them actually mind the mess.

Needless to say, it takes them a long while to get back to the house.

"Where have you been?" Eugene's mother trots out the kitchen door as soon as they appear in the backyard. Mairzy is quick on her heels.

"Sorry, mother," Eugene says, "I wanted to show Shelton the watering hole."

"He fell in," Merriell gestures to Eugene, "I had to save him."

"You fell in?" his mother's voice immediately turns to concern.

"No need to worry, ma'am, I gave him mouth to mouth, he's fine," Merriell elaborates confidently.

"A leech got you!" Mairzy points to Merriell's neck.

Merriell covers the spot with his hand and throws a panicked glance at Eugene, who feels slightly guilty for having sucked a hickey there on Merriell's skin only minutes ago.

Eugene coughs and refuses to make eye contact.

"Oh, Eugene, for goodness sake, get inside and get dry before you catch your death!" his mother exclaims and bundles him off toward the house.

As they go Eugene hears Merriell whisper to his sister, "No more about leeches!"

Eugene's mother insists both Shelton siblings change into dry pajamas and stay the night since, as she says, it is much too late to be driving home in wet clothes.

"Mairzy can take the small twin in the guest room, and Gene - you don't mind sharing with Mr. Shelton, right?" she asks.

Eugene answers of course not and tries not to sound too eager.

He saves all his eagerness for when he finally shuts his bedroom door for the last time that evening and turns to find Shelton grinning at him from his bed.

Eugene crawls into bed, and honestly, after all that time spent necking in the woods, one would think he'd be bored by now, but no. 

Eugene kisses Merriell until Mer squirms next to him. Merriell wiggles out of Eugene's grasp and puts enough space between them that he has a full view of Eugene's face.

At first Eugene thinks Merriell wants to tell him something. Eugene lets go of Merriell's pajama collar and slips his arm loosely around Mer's waist instead.

Merriell stays silent. He slides both hands up from Eugene's neck to his cheeks. He holds Eugene's face and drinks him in with his eyes. This level of scrutiny would normally make Eugene uncomfortable if it weren't for the fact that he enjoys studying Shelton equally as much.

Still, when the silence draws out too long, Eugene eventually feels compelled to break it.

"What is it?" Eugene asks quietly.

Merriell blinks. "You," he says. He takes his hands off Eugene's face and curls them under his own chest. And then continues to lie there and stare.

Which would be fine with Eugene, he's kinda getting tired anyway, but now they're no longer touching, and thus wasting a rare night spent together.

Eugene smiles, "C'mere," and reaches out.

Eugene rolls Merriell onto his chest, keeps him there with an arm around him, lets his head fall back onto the pillows, and decides it's time to sleep. He's about to drift into that half aware state just before passing out when he hears Merriell say in a low, questioning voice, "I love you."

Eugene feels his own body tense and come alert. He's pretty sure Merriell felt it too, and he knows any attempt to pretend he didn't hear the whispered confession would be futile.

"I love you too," he says, trying to keep his voice calm.

"When we're married we're not gonna have hired help," Merriell adds.

"Okay," Eugene says with a grin, "Will you be doing the cooking then? I've never lit a stove in my life."

"Don't worry, I'm a good cook," Mer replies with confidence.

"Where would we live? No offense, but if we stay in Mobile my father might come after you with a shotgun," Eugene says.

"For corrupting his youngest…" Merriell smirks proudly.

"Exactly, so how do you feel about California?" Eugene asks.

"Too dry," Mer scowls, "New Orleans, French Quarter...I'll make jambalaya."

"New Orleans, it is," Eugene agrees.

"As long as there's nobody following us around serving our meals, I'll be happy," Merriell mumbles. He slides his hand under Eugene's pajama shirt, curls his fingers against Eugene's bare skin, and falls asleep.

tagging: @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar