#i had this pair of black skinny jeans with ribbed patches on and they were so fucking cool

[doppelgangerleaverite]

i need to start dressing cool again

[get-shiggy-with-it]

heyo friend, I hope you’re doing well 🖤 What about the “You know I hate it when you do that, right? Keep doing it” smut prompt + shigaraki? With a gn!reader?

✧ pairing: tomura shigaraki x gn!reader

✧ warnings: brat taming themes, smut, references to violence, blood mention, handjobs, villain!reader, 18+ minors DNI

✧ word count: 1.5k

✧ a/n: hey mootie! thanks so much for your request. I know you were looking for some brat taming so take my subtle, sleep deprived attempt at some lowkey bratty behavior.

“You idiot, what the hell was that?”

The door slammed hard enough to reverberate through your chest. The momentary shake in your ribs was nothing compared to the adrenaline trembling in your fingers as they flailed in front of you, catching your fall. The bar top was cold and unforgiving in your grip.

Just like the floors under your feet and the roof over your head and all the people uneasily asleep upstairs.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Tomura Shigaraki cut a menacing figure—and when didn't he?—as he stood cloaked in the darkness of the hideout. You could still feel the ache of his grip on your arm, can feel the dull throb of forming bruises there. He left faint crimson footprints behind when he stepped fully into the dim, overhead lights.

The short, baby curls around his head shone in the glow like some blasphemous halo.

But he is your savior tonight, so the comparison seems a bit less jarring.

“You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific than that, boss,” you tried to sound less winded than you are.

For someone so skinny, Shigaraki had some fucking stamina. Both beaten and well bloodied, the two of you certainly cut a striking image. And while you were panting from your escape—legs on fire after carrying you down innumerable alleyways and feet numb from the slap of the pavement through worn out soles—your boss seemed barely winded.

Untouched by the fight and subsequent flight halfway across the city while tugging you along at his heels.

Though, he also didn’t get his ass straight up hyperdrive blasted into a brick wall. You’d give yourself some credit where it was due.

“I don’t need you taking hits for me,” he snapped, coming nose to nose—well, hand to nose with you.

Every muscle in your body protested as you stood straight and stared him down, feeling how the bruises cut deep through your skin and stained your ego like rotting fruit.

“Really?” you asked, not quite delusional enough to be incredulous, but getting there. “Cause that fucking black eye says differently.”

There was a nasty red and purple mark spreading from the side of his temple that disappeared under the hand that hid most of his face from view. You’d watched him take that kick straight to the side of his head and not even stumble.

He was right.

Shigaraki didn’t lie—that’s why you followed him.

That’s why you couldn’t help the strange, second nature movement of your feet as you had watched one of the dozens that ambushed you wind up to fire a super-powered punch off at Shigs chest. The whole moment existed as a slow motion memory, something you watched from above—a voyeur in your own mind. The way your boss’ eyes went horribly wide, the glow of the man’s fist, the way your body went limp like a rag doll in mid air and slammed against the adjacent wall.

How your assailant was nothing more than a pile of ash only seconds later.

Though you tried not to read too much into that particular detail.

“You know I hate it when you do that right?”

You became peripherally aware that the ache in your chest was being exacerbated by his body weight pressing you back into the polished wood of the bar. As two hands caged you in with their pinkies comically raised to keep you trapped, you felt a familiar rush of defiance in the face of this show of superiority.

“What? When I save your dusty ass?” you tried to smile but his unwavering gaze made it die on your lips.

To be completely fair, you had just watched him take so many hits that should have killed him outright and keep fighting like the inevitably fractured bones were nothing but pinpricks.

You’d always known Shigaraki was intimidating, in his self-assuredness and confidence you knew was not unfounded. But you’d never seen him put his money where his mouth is before, only heard the stories from the rest of the League.

Now you understood.

“When you talk back to me,” he hissed.

He didn’t bother to correct you. He didn’t need to. You both very well knew that if anyone had been saved tonight, it was you as he retreated from the fight, pulling you to safety and not stopping until he—and doors of the bar—were firmly placed between you and feral city streets.

“Oh come on—” you were halfway through an eye roll even Dabi would be proud of when he reached up to grip the hand on his face and pulled it aside.

The smell of formaldehyde dissipated as it landed with a thunk on the bar and Shigaraki stared at you with newly unencumbered intensity.

“Keep doing it.”

You blinked in stunned stupid silence.

“What?”

It was only then that you realized it, and once you saw the subtle flush of his cheeks and the twitch in his fingers, you weren’t sure how it had ever escaped your notice.

Villainy had always been attractive for the rush, alluring in the sense that it afforded you the feeling of being so painfully alive. The adrenaline fueled, full body shaking that flooded you with invincible endorphins—that made your face hot and your blood sing. That was what called to you. That was what had you flinging yourself in front of punches and sprinting down the worn out city streets.

And that was what Shigaraki was feeling now as you held your own against him.

Challenged his authority.

Took what you were given and gave just as well.

You could imagine most people would have given up the smartass act after one too many brushes with a dusty end, but you were a stubborn piece of shit.

In fact, you were a little fucking brat.

And Tomura Shigaraki liked it.

“I won’t tell you twice,” he said, and when exactly did that gravel road rasp in his voice become so spine tingling?

His chest was flush with you now, and the familiar firmness pressing against your thigh only confirmed your revelation.

And only strengthened your resolve.

A grin on your face, you locked eyes with your boss.

“Oh, Shigs,” you mused, shivering at the way he smirked down at you in all his bloody, beaten glory. “I think you absolutely will.”

The bar behind you creaked under his grip and you suddenly missed the power in those deadly hands, pressing fingerprint bruises into your skin. You doubted you’d have to wait much longer for that though, not with the he twitched against your hips as you shifted to press back into him.

“Maybe you’ll listen better with your mouth full.”

One of those long fingers was trailing softly through the gashes in your top, running across your chest and tapping at your lips. He rolled what was undeniable a fucking unfairly large dick against you just so there would be no mistaking the direction this was clearly going in.

And what a hot fucking turn of events it was.

“Now boss, if you want me to keep talking, you’re gonna have to fill up something else.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little proud of yourself at the ability to formulate comebacks even as the hand at your lips slipped down to yours and drew it to the fastenings of his jeans.

“Don’t think I’m going to reward you for being so fucking irresponsible.”

He seemed at once so simultaneously wrecked and completely untouched by you that your head spun. Shigaraki kept his voice even, his face stuck in that same pleased expression. The only thing that gave him away was the raging hard cock you now palmed easily through his underwear and the pink flush that was spreading slowly down his neck and under the low collar of his shirt.

“Bold of you to assume this isn’t a reward,” you muttered, entranced by the way the blush lit around the razor edges of his scars, thin silver lines prominent against the blood rushing under his skin.

Your mouth watered and Shigaraki—Tomura? Should you call him Tomura now that his length was falling free into your palm and leaking across your fingers?—did nothing to stop you from leaning forward and latching onto one of the rough patches of flesh.

Shigs didn’t seem ashamed in the least or try to hide the gasp you yanked out of him with your tongue pressing deeply over the veins in his neck.

However, he also didn’t allow either of you to indulge for long. Seconds later a hand gripped the back of your shirt and the wrist that was currently pumping your boss’ deliciously heavy dick, stopping your movements entirely.

The rational part of your brain was not quick enough to catch the whine that left you when he moved to step away.

Shigaraki’s rare chuckle almost made it worth the embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he was grinning again but it was different this time. Predatory—a beast caught scent of blood, ready for the newest struggle to the death. “That’s what I thought.”

When he finally guided your hand back to his cock, warm with a beautiful red tip that gushed enough to slick your palm, you found it incrementally harder to formulate a response.

But you hadn't quite given up the fight yet.

When you smiled back at him, it was all teeth.

All claws.

Ready and waiting to be tamed.

[elleharperbcu]

Lifestyle

Critical thinking lectures:

How has lifestyle, industrial & social changes impacted fashion & textiles?

In today’s lecture we gained understanding of what has influenced and impacted fashion and textiles in the past, in order to predict what will happen to the fashion and textiles industries in the future.

We started by exploring historical aspects that have driven these changes, to start to interpret the significance that these influential factors will play on the future of the fashion & textile industries.

We watched a video on YouTube called “100 years of fashion: women” Published on 3 jun 2015. Were we discussed as a group what drives these changes.

The growth of the fashion industry, caused by the industrial revolution (1870-1900s) enabled the suffragettes to use fashion as a form of branding to help promote their cause.

“They are, of course, only following in the honourable tradition set over a century ago by the suffragettes, who harnessed fashion, and the meaning of colour, as methods of communication in the early days of photography. In 1908 Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence devised the scheme of purple for dignity, white for purity and green for hope - branding for the cause, which triggered Liberty and Selfridges to start selling ranges of tricolour ribbon, underwear, bags and soap. Christina Broom…documented marches of thousands of suffragists and suffragettes wearing white dresses designed to prove to the country the dignity of their cause.”

The Guardian Cally Blackman 8.10.15 How the Suffragettes used fashion to further the cause. 

https://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2015/oct/08/suffragette-style-movement-embraced-fashion-branding

1940’s

Utility Clothing Scheme: aimed to save fabric by using economical designs, eliminating laborious technical details and limiting the choice of fabrics - all to save costs.

BBC News 5.3.2015 How did WW2 change the way people dressed?

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-31719704

1942

“Make Do and Mend was a pamphlet issued by the British Ministry of Information in the midst of WWII. It was intended to provide housewives with useful tips on how to be both frugal and stylish in times of harsh rationing. With its thrifty design ideas and advice on reusing old clothing, the pamphlet was an indispensable guide for households. Readers were advised to create pretty ‘decorative patches’ to cover holes in warm garments; unpick old jumpers to re-knit chic alternatives; turn men’s clothes into women’s; as well as darn, alter and protect against the ‘moth menace’. 

Manage with and repair the possessions one already has rather than buying replacements. "the austerity of the war years taught her to make do and mend" British Library, Learning resources https://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item106365.html

Examples of “make do and mend” women’s suit made out of a man’s pin stripe suit, a child’s cloak made from an old blanket.

BBC News 5.3.2015 How did WW2 change the way people dressed? Fashion on the Ration is at the Imperial War Museum, London, until 31 August 2015.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-31719704

The “New Look” exploded in Paris in 1947 (in contrast to the utilitarian approach adopted in the war) lead by the pioneering designer Christian Dior, who empowered women through fashion. 

“Throughout the war, cloth and labour shortages had limited the amount of fabric and trimming that could be used… jackets had been masculine, shoulders square and skirts short and straight… belts, seams, collars and trouser turn-ups had to conform to certain restrictions …” Yet, only two years after the end of the war, here were ankle-length skirts whose hems measured up to 40 metres in circumference. Here was a fashion that emphasised femininity, with rounded shoulders, waists nipped in tight, and hips and busts exaggerated by bodices and padding. 

The New Looks striking stylistic legacy lived on well into the 1960s.

https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/news/the-look-that-shocked-the-world-1278048.html

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/fashion/events/how-haute-couture-rescued-war-torn-paris/

”Women, with their sure instincts, realized that my intention was to make not just more beautiful but also happier,” said Dior: A businessman as well as a poet, he made fashion responsible for expressing society's desires, and  showed it how to communicate…” ref book Dior

My weakness ... is architecture. I think of my work as ephemeral architecture, dedicated to the beauty of the female body.

http://www.catwalkyourself.com/fashion-history/1950s-1960s/

Assouline publishing 2004 Dior Marie - France Pochna

Working in groups based on the following decades: 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s and 2000s. In our group we researched fashion in the 2000s. We made a mind map that considered the above influencing factors that have impacted on the fashion designers from this decade. We recorded the effect of these causes and how they have driven the design, materials and production at this time. 

2000s Fashion:

Casual clothing and leisurewear were big trends in the early 2000s, a casual look for women would have been, crop tops, hoodies, low-rise flared jeans, cargo pants, daisy dukes, jean skirts, off the shoulder tops, ribbed sweaters, with platform sandals, ugg boots, or sneakers. 

After researching I found technology and Y2K bug (problem in the coding of computerized systems that was projected to create havoc in computers and computer networks around the world at the beginning of the year 2000) had a huge impact on fashion in the early 2000s. The colour palette was full of shiny black tones and reflective metallics. The Y2K trend was worn on a daily but mainly reserved for going out. Popular outfits for women included mesh or handkerchief tops, box-pleated or leather skirts, shiny pants, and sparkly shoes. Britney Spears was a trendsetter for this type of style. For men, Y2K looks involved leather jackets, a statement dress shirt, and chunky shoes. 

Mid 2000s fashion - Fashion started to take cues from 1960s bohemian looks. Yoga pants, low-rise jeans, cowl-neck shirts, peasant tops, capri pants, cropped jackets, and dresses over jeans was a popular outfit choice for women. These outfits were paired with accessories, such as, chunky belts, aviator sunglasses, jelly bracelets, ties worn around the neck or as belts, ballet flats, and platform boots. The 1960s revival looks were also popular with men. Including light wash bootcut jeans, cargo shorts, classic rock t-shirt, fitted cowboy shirts, henleys, polos with popped collars, and seersucker suits. 

Late 2000s fashion - For women, crop tops were replaced with camisoles and miniskirts, bubble skirt, and sweater dresses. There was also a 1980s and 1990s revival of neon colours, animal prints, geometric shapes, light denim jeggings, and ripped acid washed jeans that were worn with gladiator sandals, ballet flats, and headbands. The oversized look became popular, but it was more subtle than the traditional 80s fit. Men’s late 2000s fashion was a mix of 1950s and 1980s throwbacks, with letterman and black leather jackets, overcoats, slim cut jeans, Ed Hardy t-shirts, flannel shirts, and V-neck sweaters. Paired with dad hats, wayfarers or aviators, motorcycle boots, converse, vans, or sneakers. 

Hip-Hop had a influence on the 2000s fashion, many rappers influenced fashion with their own clothing lines. Including Jay-Z, Diddy, Nelly, and 50 Cent. Many looks included baggy jeans, tall t-shirts, sports jerseys, velour suits, bubble jackets, and puffer vests paired with headbands, sweatshirts, Timberland boots, and sneakers like Adidas Superstars or Nike Air Force 1s. 

Streetwear is brand focused casual clothing, like jeans, tees, and sneakers. In the late 2000s popular streetwear styles included distressed skinny jeans, loose fitting tops, loose or fitted tracksuits, track pants, hoodies, graphic t-shirts, vintage thrift shop tees, and Tommy Hilfiger and U.S. Polo Assn brands. Sneakers were an important part of the style, retro Nike Air Jordans and Adidas Yeezys. 

Emo fashion became popular in the mid 2000s and took cues from goth and punk styles. Outfits were often all or mainly black with skinny jeans, band t-shirts, studded belts, and checkered vans. Every emo look was completed with the right hairstyle, choppy cuts with long side-swept bangs dyed black, platinum blonde, or a bright colour. 

Athleisure Wear - If you wanted to be comfortable yet fashionable in the early 2000s the velor tracksuits was the go to. Britney Spears, Beyonce and Eminem to Diddy were on on the tracksuit craze. They were brightly coloured and emblazoned with rhinestone logos and phrases. It was also in to mix track pants with dress clothing and design shoes to elevate the look. 

The Beatles were one of the most influential bands in history, taking their fans on a journey of fashion styles through the decades from rock to teddy boys to hippie years.

(1962-1964) - (1964-1966)

Did technology play a part in influencing this style?

During this lecture we watched a video called The Beatles Yellow Submarine. 

Exaggerated shoulder pads epitomises the Power Dressing of the 1980’s.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOlwwoZLoKE&feature=youtu.be

In the 1980s Power Dressing in the UK grew from a new money focused generation, in London, creating a bee style. This look was patented by shows such as Dynasty and Dallas, where actors such as Joan Collins and Linda Evans dressed as female power dresses. Shoulder-pads and sharply tailored suits ruled and has been continued to be used by women today to signify power.

https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/features/what-is-power-dressing-1807353.html

THATCHER USED FASHION AS A POLITICAL TOOL

“With ‘power dressing’ she could tap into the image of a career woman but her reputation as a fierce leader then drove her to wear clothes that might ‘soften’ her image, which was why she wore pussy bow blouses. A symbol of the past reflecting a more conservative femininity, the pussy bow blouse clashed with the aggressive power suits. “This was the paradox of the Thatcher image: at once she sought to embody conservative values while also seeking to assert her right to power as a woman. Dr Tyan”

https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/margaret-thatcher-clothes-dress-suits-power-dressing-fashion-impact-women-victoria-and-albert-museum-a7480026.html

Margaret Thatcher: Fashion as a Political Tool

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qynZ0NEHH4M&feature=youtu.be

How did Margaret Thatcher change Britain: 

Privatisation 

London became a leading financial capital 

Open all hours 

The decline of the north 

Lessened role of trade unions 

Northern Ireland peace process 

Education reforms – league tables 

Home ownership 

Power dressing

Prestige for armed forces (Falklands)

Transformed Labour party 

Julian Coman Sun 14 Apr 2013 10.00 BST https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2013/apr/14/margaret-thatcher-20-changes-britain 

My own research on Margaret Thatcher -

When looking at pictures of Margaret Thatcher, after the election in 1979, a well-dressed woman with her individual style is clearly shown. She began to create her image and appearance as an example of how women in power should dress. Thatcher was a confident and stern business woman however there was a clear contrast to the feminine clothing she wore. She used her clothing and style as an act of self - definition that disguised herself from others showing her individual identity as Prime Minister. Thatcher styled herself appropriately for political occasions, the most occuring colour Thatcher wore was royal blue. With her power suits and the legendary pussybow blouses, that made her a fashion icon, she was known for her haircut, her pearls, and her handbag. Her hairstyle was one of the famous features of Margaret Thatcher, as straight and precise as the lady herself. 

One great example on how her style, outfits and political power were set together was before she became Prime Minister. Thatcher wore hats because not only they suited her well but were symbols of her status and class. As the leader of a major political party, her hats seemed to be a political problem. It was a problem because middle class people with conventional attitudes were prejudiced towards her. This was not the picture of a leader the party wanted to draw. Consequently, after her election to British Prime Minister she only wore hats for State ceremonies and foreign tours but not on polictail occasions anymore.  

The Fashion World Supports Pussy Riot 

Fashion empowered to dictate and influence world events and social changes 

17th April 2015 Jamie Waters Fashion’s most iconic political statements; The fashion world supports pussy riot & we’d rather go naked than wear fur.

https://www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/article/24414/1/fashion-s-most-iconic-political-statements 

https://www.vogue.co.uk/article/clothing-fashion-protest

In pairs with reference to the timeline identify another advancement in technology that has impacted on social events, which in turn has driven a change in the fashion industry? 

....

Brand Report

In groups we researched information about the brand Lazy Oaf, we created a detailed report which covers each of the 8 elements that make a band pitch. These elements include: Vision & purpose, brand identity, customer, price, product, place, promotion and  packaging. In our group we decided to each choose an element to research and talk about, I picked promotion. 

Lazy Oaf’s Brand Identity is definitely something I would take away and incorporate into our brand. We want to create personal products that our customers love and respect. Minimize environmental hazards through being sustainable but with fair prices. We also discussed as a group giving back to charities with a percentage of money we make as a brand. 

This group task gave us practice with working together, assigning roles and discussing information online. We decided to split the work fairly so that everyone had an equal amount of work to research and present. As we had to present this group task to our peers it helped us practice for when we present our brand. 

[princess-soa]

Rocker Chibs

Pairing: Chibs x OC/Sweetheart

Warnings: SMUT, light choking, pet names, general hoe-ness, swear words, etc. 

Def Leppard was roaring through the speakers of the enclosed venue as I walked through the sweaty, shouting bodies of fans having the time of their lives. I was three beers and four shots in and was definitely feeling myself as I was swaying to the music that seemed to be flowing through my veins. My friends had all disappeared with men of different ages, heights, and personalities, which left me fending for myself as the concert continued into the night. We had a general rule though- leave our locations on our phones- so I wasn't worried as I brushed past a group of men on my way to the bathroom. Men may be too light a term; these men had leather kuttes on with a Reaper and Sons of Anarchy as a top rocker and the word California as the bottom rocker. 

     They were passing around blunts and normal cigarettes as they chatted over the loud noise of the venue. Some were rough-housing but overall they kept to themselves. With that, one had caught and kept your eye and his gaze kept getting darker as he saw you move and dip to the music. His hair was shaggy and graying at the edges, as well as his goatee but his eyebrows were dark and his eyes even darker. There was a blunt stuck between dark pink lips and black-framed glasses resting on a strong-sloped nose. "Sgt. At Arms" was the tag on his chest and with "Redwood Original" sitting opposite. 

    I cocked my head curiously, and saw his tongue toy with the end of the blunt as he took a long drag. The gaze he wracked down my body was slow and hot, like he was both caressing me and stripping my clothes from my body at the same time. I could feel the heat settle in my chest and my thighs clenched at the idea of having him between them with his lips on me. Before I could change my mind, I nodded my head towards the back of the venue where the bathrooms were hidden behind the stairs. He nodded and waited to dismiss himself until after I had walked past, nose upturned as he smelled my flowery perfume mixed with a hint of alcohol. He groaned and followed after like a puppy, matching my stride and catching up by the time I had pressed the door open and walked through the threshold. 

    He had the door shut, locked, and me pinned against it all in the same breath. My hands were above my head and there was a thigh pressed between my legs before I could even blink. 

 "Name's Chibs." His voice was gruff, raspy with an accent I couldn't quite place yet. 

    Those were the only words he muttered before attaching his lips to mine, goatee scratching at my sensitive skin as I kissed him back with just as much intensity. I tried moving my fingers, desperate to touch him, but he gripped my wrists even tighter and kept them pinned to the wall. 

   "You can touch me when I let you." He growled low in his throat, pushing his leg up further so I was forced to my tip-toes. The extra pressure caused me to groan loud, hips rocking against the seam of my skinny jeans and the hard material of his own Levi's. 

   "Yes, sir." I snarled, but it came out breathless and held no malice. 

   I felt him smile as he let go of my hands to slide his hands down my arms, along my ribs, to my hips where he tugged my shirt out of my jeans and started unbuttoning each individual button. He didn't break the kiss as he moved the material out of the way, fingers sliding underneath to move my bra straps down my arms so he'd have access to my chest. 

   "Such perfect tits, princess." He sighed, moving the cups of my bra down so they bared my chest and pushed my tits up so he'd have a better view. 

   "You should taste them." I whimpered, trying very hard to not move my hands and tangle them in his hair. 

   "That's a good idea." He nodded, head ducking down to suck at my nipple; his tongue was swiping across the hard bud as his left hand mimicked the same motions on my other nipple. My hips starting rocking faster, a wet patch forming on his thigh as my hands finally fell from their position and held his head against my chest while my own head fell back in bliss. 

   "Aye, princess, shoulda lef' your hands up there." Chibs quipped, sucking harder and biting down gently as he pinched my other nipple in warning. The moan that left me was other-worldly, pussy flooding at the action. 

  "What's this? You like a li'l pain wit' your pleasure?" I was nodding before I even realized but I'd be damned if I missed the wicked grin that curled his lips. 

   He took this new information and ran with it, fingers yanking my jeans open and tugging both them and my panties down my legs to my ankles. What a sight I must have been in that dingy, graffiti-covered bathroom: shirt draped over my shoulders, tits pushed up from my undone bra, panties at my ankles like a needy whore. I didn't care though, not with his fingers sliding between the lips of my cunt and spreading me wide as he rested on his knees. 

   "What a pretty pussy, princess." I had only enough time to look down at him before his mouth was between my thighs, tongue sliding inside my leaking hole as his thumb rubbed quick but deep circles into my throbbing clit. 

   My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I gripped at his hair, rocking my hips against his face as I chased my first orgasm of the night. He let me, moving impossibly closer and spreading me even wider for his assault on my pussy. He was eating me like a man starved, like forcing an orgasm out of me before he bent me over the sink was his top priority. I wasn't about to complain, the alcohol swimming in my veins making me even more pliant to his touch. 

   "Just like t-that, oh fuck." Words fell from my mouth with no prior thought, the only thing on my mind was cumming all over the mouth of the man on his knees in front of me. 

   "Oh no, sweetheart. You're only cummin' on my cock." Chibs was on his feet right after, chuckling at the whine I made as I stared at him. 

   "Best be doing something about that, darlin'." I snapped, needy for that orgasm he was promising me. 

   "You think so?" His gaze turned dark, his hand wrapping around my throat as he got back into my personal space. 

   All I did was nod, a smile on my face as I looked up at him. My fingers were back at my sides, letting him take control. 

   "Bend over tha sink, love." He kissed me first, stealing the breath from my lungs, before tugging me away from the wall and nudging me towards the sink. I followed the order, hips wiggling as I bent over and gripped the sides of the sink in anticipation. 

    He admired the view for a few moments before coming up behind me, holding my gaze as he undid his jeans and pulled them down just enough to pull out his cock. I tried turning my head to see him, but his hand wrapped around my hair and yanked it back so all I could do was stare at him in the mirror. 

   "Nice try." He grinned, his free hand taking his cock and tapping it against my ass cheek to tease me. 

    I whimpered, hips moving back but he swatted my ass in a warning. I stilled instantly and waited for him to make his next move, eager to have him buried inside me. His patience was wavering too, which was obvious from the way he kicked my ankles apart and notched the head of his cock at my entrance. 

   "Work for it." I nodded quickly, pushing back slowly so he pushed inside at an agonizing pace. It was to tease him, even though I knew he held all the power. 

  He let me lead, hand now free to spread my cheeks so he could watch himself disappear into my soaking wet cunt. He was chewing on his bottom lip as he bottomed out, making an experimental roll of his hips to make sure he was stuffing me full.

   "Fuck me, please. Like you mean it." I was needy for it; I wanted him to make me feel it for days. 

    Chibs nodded quickly, letting go of my hair as he gripped my hips in both of his hands and started fucking into me with passion. I could feel bruises forming from his fingertips and there were going to be bruises on my thighs from where he was knocking me into the hardness of the sink, but I didn't care. I didn't care that he was using me like a fucktoy, didn't care that I looked like a mess, didn't care that I may never see him again. The only thing that mattered was that I had the hottest man alive fucking me into oblivion. 

   His head had fallen forward as he moved inside me, hitting spots I didn't even know existed as he pushed me towards my climax. After a couple of tense moments, he slowed to long and deep thrusts as he pulled me up against his chest so I was on full display while he fucked me. He wrapped a hand around my throat again, keeping me still as his other hand snaked between my thighs to start rubbing my clit again. My tits were bouncing in time with his thrusts, nipples still hard and aching as I begged for my orgasm. We looked like a sight there in that mirror: a girl in her twenties being fucked like a whore by a rugged, older biker who was too dangerous for his own good. 

   "Cum for me, princess. Cover my cock in your cum." He growled in my ear, teeth biting down gently on the shell and tugging. I nodded eagerly, fingers clutching the forearm between my thighs as I tottered on the edge of the abyss. 

   "Scream fer me." He snapped, picking up the pace of both his fingers and his dick as he sucked a claiming mark onto my neck. 

    That did it, and I did scream for him. It was inaudible against the blaring music coming from the concert but in this bubble we created, it was defining. My climax soaked my thighs and it created stars behind my eyelids. It had me on the tips of my toes as my legs shook and my chest panted for breath. Soon enough I became boneless so Chibs moved us around so my ass was resting on the edge of sink and he sinking back inside to chase his own orgasm. I had enough strength to wrap my legs around his waist and drape my arms over his shoulders, lips going to kiss him again and I met every one of his thrusts with one of my own. I needed him to cum, needed to see him lose control and get lost inside me. I wanted to see him fight for control against me in this bathroom. 

   "Come on, darlin'. Fill me up." I moaned against his lips, eagerly clenching down on his cock with every thrust inside my soaking wet cunt. I was still so sensitive that it was building another orgasm but I wanted him to cum first. 

   "I'm going to ruin ya, swee'heart." Chibs snarled, but his thrusts were becoming sporadic as he came close to his own release. 

  "You already have." I whispered, lips pressing to his once more and that did it. 

   His orgasm caught him by surprise, the curses and shouts of pleasure muffled against my neck as he pressed impossibly deep inside me to fill me full. His release triggered my own and we came together on that sink, bruises littering my skin and sweat making our hair stick to our foreheads in a messy display of what we'd just done. It took a couple minutes to calm down, but soon enough he was pulling away and helping me down to my feet. I was a little wobbly as I got dressed but I was smiling at him as he attempted to tuck his still half-naked cock back into his boxers and belt his jeans. 

   "I could take care of that for you." I mentioned with a grin as I fixed my bra and buttoned my shirt back, like this hadn't happened except for the cum slowly leaking into my already wet panties. 

   "How do you s'pose?" He chuckled, intrigued at the idea. 

  "Blow you in the back of the room while you watch the concert." I replied nonchalantly, tying my hair up in a ponytail and buttoning my own jeans. 

   "Yer a walkin' wet dream. I'm in." His hand was grabbing mine and pulling me back out into the packed venue, eager to see his fantasy through to the end.

This was a request from my “Horny on Main” post and I hope you like it! Writing for the Sons does something to me that I really need to find in a real man instead of fiction. Oh well! 

Much love xx

[let-love-run-red]

Green

Tag List: @keithseabrook27​ @imaginecrushes​ @but-kairis-not-that-smart @zeuniel​ @bittersweetbooke​ (Sorry one of the tags didn’t work loves)

"(y/n), are we gonna talk, about last night?" Ben asked as the two of you sat in the car on the way to school. Leia had considered grounding him for the arrest but after he explained the situation to Leia she relented and let him off after chewing him out for nearly two hours. But you still hadn't talked to him all morning. Every time you looked at him you thought about how his lips felt against yours and how close you were to, having sex. With Ben.

You just turned to look out the window of Ben's car as he pulled into the school parking lot. He turned off the car and locked the doors before you could get out, the locks retreating down into the door so you couldn't pry them up and manually unlock the door. You sat back in your seat, avoiding his gaze and looking at your hands as you wrung them together.

"(Y/n) you have to talk to me sooner or later. You're staying in my house until your parents get back." Ben said, trying to look at your face. You kept turning away from him. Ben sighed and looked out the windshield.

"(y/n), do you, regret it? Kissing me I mean?" Ben questioned quietly. You turned to look up at him, seeing the red blush covering his pale cheeks that you could just see through his curtain of black hair. You resisted the urge to reach out and brush his hair behind his ears and instead cleared your throat.

Ben looked at you hopefully and held his hand out to brush his hand over your hair, stopping short and dropping his hand into his lap.

"No. I don't regret it." You said quietly. Ben felt a smile cross his face and ran his hand through his hair with a breathy laugh.

"Oh thank god, I was so worried about that." Ben smoothed his hands over his jeans, picking at a stain on his thigh. You did the same with the leggings you'd chosen to wear that day, waiting for Ben to say something else. You didn't even know where to begin.

"I-I'm sorry I shouldn't have brought it up." Ben said as he looked down in his lap. You hesitantly reached over and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. He snapped his head up to look at you and gave a lopsided grin.

"We should probably go inside." you said, hearing the bell ring. Ben unlocked the door and jogged around to the other side to open your door for you. You chuckled and took his hand as he helped you out of the car.

"M'lady." Ben said as you stepped out of the car. You smiled as the both of you walked towards the doors.

"So the dance recital is coming up, is the coach going to put you in or no?" Ben asked as he opened the door for you. You figured she would, she had you working with one of the boys on the team to choreograph a duet. You couldn't imagine any other reason she would have you choreograph.

"I think so. It's a tradition that the new members do a duet they have to choreograph, why?" You questioned as you walked down the hall to first period, one of the classes you shared with Ben.

"Just curious." Ben said with a shrug. You looked down the hall and saw Hux standing at his locker, holding an ice pack against his cheek and a bandage across his now crooked nose. Ben saw him too, puffing his chest out and stepping in front of you, pushing behind his back. You came face to face with his patch covered guitar case. You clenched your jaw and dug your nails into your palm to quell your anxiety. You stared hard at the green "Flogging Molly" patch on Ben's guitar case. It was one he didn't listen to often but when he did the whole neighborhood could hear it. You heard the quiet sound of Hux's shoes on the tile as he approached Ben. You heard Ben growl as Hux stopped in front of him.

"Solo." Hux spat. His voice sounded nasally. You risked a glance around Ben to see Hux's very bruised face caused by Ben's forehead and knee. He saw you and took a step forward, only for Ben to plant his hand on Hux's chest and push him back.

"Do I need to break some ribs too?" Ben asked. Hux flinched when Ben touched him, stepping a few feet back.

"Don't ever come near her again. She doesn't want you." Ben growled, reaching behind his back and grabbing your hand. He kept himself between you and Hux as he skirted around the ginger and towards your class.

The rest of the walk was silent as Ben let out a huff and rested his arm over your shoulders. You leaned against him and listened to the comforting jingle of the chain on his belt and the heavy thud of his boots on the tile. Everybody else shied away from those sounds but not you. You knew Ben, and knew what a big softie he was.

"Ben what are you wearing?"  You asked when you met Ben at the bus stop. He was dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans with a chain dangling across his hip. His boots looked like they were two sizes too big, and the black Metallica shirt looked two sizes too small. His guitar case seemed small across his back. He had filled out in the summer between ninth and tenth grade, and grown at least a foot. You however, were still the same size you'd been since eighth grade.

"Clothes?" He said, looking at you. You laughed and punched his shoulder halfheartedly. He gently shoved your shoulder, catching you before you fell over with a laugh. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he did the same. You froze when you saw the silver stud  in the center of his tongue. He laughed at your face. Not a small chuckle they way he normally laughed, an uproarious laugh.

"Ben what the hell?!" You exclaimed. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out again to give you a better view of the stud.

"I got it lasf weeken, like it?" He said, his words muddled around his tongue. The stud jumped as he spoke. You didn't know how to react, you never expected Ben to get a piercing, especially one on his tongue. It was weird.

Kinda hot though.

"You look like you have a nail stuck in your tongue." You said halfheartedly. Ben pulled his tongue back into his mouth and tilted his head. He thought you'd like it.

"I'm sure Malarus will like it." You said as the school bus pulled up to the stop. Ben followed you into the bus, sitting down next to you with his guitar case across his back.

"Nah she'll hate it, which is why I got it." Ben said with a shit-eating grin. You raised an eyebrow at him. He and Malarus had been dating since the beginning of ninth grade, he just now decided he was sick of her? This wasn't at all like the Ben you knew.

"Ben are you ok? You're acting kind of weird." You questioned.

"It's high school (y/n), time to remake myself. I want to be a bad ass, I'm sick of people picking on me." He said. You shrugged as the bus pulled into the transfer point. You grabbed your backpack and stood, ready to move to the bus that would take you to your new high school. You followed Ben out of the bus. He let you get into the new bus first and find a seat. He was about to sit next to you when someone in a lime green shirt pushed him aside and sat next to you instead. Ben huffed and landed in the seat across the aisle before standing up again.

"Hey, I'm Elrik." The boy said, leaning towards you with a waggle of his eyebrows. You squished yourself against the window, shooting Ben a pleading glance. Ben tapped Elrik's shoulder. Elrik rolled his eyes and turned to see Ben's angry face.

"Move." Ben said sternly. Elrik rolled his eyes.

"Or what?"

Ben reached down, grabbing Elrik's green shirt and hauling him from the seat, dropping him into the seat Ben had been pushed into. Elrik landed with a heavy thump before Ben sat next to you, propping his guitar case between his knees. He leaned back and threw an arm around your shoulders and fluffed your hair.

You walked into your first period class. Math. You and Ben took the two empty seats at the back of the room, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice the two of you had walked in late.

"Ben Solo, what have you done to my favorite student?" The teacher asked without looking away from the board. He finished the equation he was writing on the board, before capping his marker and turning to glare at Ben.

"She's never late, the one day she is she shows up with you." Mr. Madden said. Ben rolled his eyes so hard you thought they'd roll out of his head.

"I'm waiting for an answer, Mr. Solo." Mr. Madden said.

"You got me Mr. Madden, I've corrupted her. We were behind the school shooting heroin and cooking meth. I finally broke bad, the metal in my mouth finally leeched enough poison to screw up my head just like you said it would, and now I've gone and ruined your favorite student. Oh the tragedy." Ben said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he spoke. You suppressed a chuckle. Ben could always be a little, dramatic. Mr. Madden's face turned a glorious shade of pink as Ben spoke.

"Mr. Solo. Stop speaking like that this instant." Mr. Madden snapped.

"Alright alright. Dude I woke up late and I'm her ride." Ben said, holding his hands up in surrender. Mr. Madden grumbled under his breath before turning to the board.

"See me after class Ben." He growled before launching into an explanation on the problem he'd been writing when the two of you walked in the room. Ben gave you a look and stuck his tongue out again, the metal stud on his tongue catching on his teeth and making a clicking sound. It was a habit he'd picked up. If he was bored or deep in thought he'd drag the stud across his teeth to make a clicking sound. It drove Leia to her wits end, but you never minded it.

"So there's a battle of the bands type thing coming up." Ben said, walking backwards down the hall so he could face you to talk. It was the end of the day and he was walking you to the extra dance practice Phasma had scheduled so everybody could be ready for the recital in two weeks. You tilted your head and urged him to continue. He tilted his head to mirror you, sticking his tongue out and knocking the stud against his teeth again.

"Wanna come? The school's putting it on, I figured I'd do something a little more mellow. It's supposed to be covers of school appropriate songs." Ben said with a roll of his eyes. and putting air quotes around the words 'school appropriate.' You chuckled.

"Sure Ben, when is it?" You asked, stopping outside the locker room. Ben leaned one arm above his head against the wall. He told you the details of the concert and let you get changed while he waited outside the locker room for you. A few girls walked past him, including Rey. She gave Ben a quick nod. Despite being one of your friends, your friendship stopped at the teams you shared. She knew Ben was one of your closest friends however and figured she should be nice to him. Ben gave her a short nod back.

"Hey (y/n), think I could watch?" Ben asked as you walked out of the locker room in a pair of leggings and a tank top. You didn't mind, but you'd have to ask Phasma.

"I mean, I'll ask coach but I don't think she'd care." You said. You walked into the dance room with Ben on your heels. Before he could take a step on the hardwood floor you turned around and placed a hand on his chest. You pointed down at his thick-soled steel toed combat boots.

"She'll kill you if you scuff her floor." You said. Ben sighed and leaned against the wall to pull the boots off. He held them up next to him with a tight lipped smile. He shuffled into the room in mismatched green socks, setting the boots under the collapsible table in the corner that the dance team set their phones and water bottles on.

"Hey Coach," You approached Phasma at her desk. She was working on cutting the music for the concert but at hearing your voice she looked up with a smile.

"What's up (y/n)?"

"Could my friend Ben watch us practice? He's my ride home and I didn't really want to make him sit in the hall the entire time." You said, jerking your thumb behind you at Ben. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and flashed Phasma a crooked smile. She looked him up and down with raised eyebrows before turning to you and nodding.

"I didn't expect you to be friends with him, but yes he can watch." Phasma said. She finished the song she was working on before standing up and walking to the front of the class. Ben skated to the back in his socks, sliding across the hardwood before lowering himself to sit on the floor in the back.

"Has anybody seen David?" Phasma asked. David was the partner you'd been working on your duet with. Now that you thought about it, you hadn't seen him all day. You hoped he was alright.

"Uh, hey coach." You heard David call from the doorway. You and the rest of the class turned to look at him.

He had his left arm cradled in a sling, and his left leg in a boot. He had a crutch tucked under his right arm and hopped into the room, struggling to balance on his one good leg without the help of his other arm. Phasma's mouth dropped open along with yours. There was no way he could dance with one arm and one leg, and there was no way it would heal in two weeks. Phasma let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"David what did you do?" She asked. David let out a nervous chuckle.

"I uh, went ice skating with my girlfriend, and I fell. Very hard." David said as he leaned against the wall of mirrors in the front of the room. You gave Ben a worried glance and he tilted his head at you. You could see his jaw moving as he chewed on his tongue, another habit he had when he was bored.

"Well, I guess you're out of the routines." Phasma said. David flashed her an apologetic grin. Phasma turned to you.

"(y/n) your duet with David was supposed to be in the concert, I can't cut it, the programs have already been ordered." Phasma said. It seemed more like she was thinking out loud rather than actually addressing you. She glanced behind you, a spark suddenly lighting behind her eyes.

"You said your friends name was Ben?" She said as she turned to fully face him. Suddenly every eye in the room was focused on Ben. He shuffled uncomfortably and looked to you for guidance. You simply shrugged.

"Ben, have you ever danced?" She asked. Ben stared blankly for a minute and in the silent room you could hear the stud clicking against his teeth in his mouth.

"I did gymnastics for a few years?" Ben said. You remembered his brief gymnast career in seventh and eighth grade. He'd gotten pretty good at the flips, but that wasn't dance.

"I can work with that." Phasma said. She gestured for everybody to clear the center of the room and for Ben to stand.

"Do a flip." She said. Ben gave her a confused look. It had been years since you'd see him do anything where his feet were above his head, let alone purposefully.

"Coach, come on that's Ben Solo. He just walks around glaring at people. I doubt he can even do a cartwheel." One of the girls in the corner said. She'd been rude to you since you tried out. Rey said she was always rude to anybody outside of her circle.

Ben shot her a glare, then stood from the floor, shucking his leather jacket onto the floor and emptying his pockets on top of his jacket .He slipped his socks off and stepped towards the middle of the room. He turned to look at everybody around him, standing in a perfect ballet third position. He gestured to the room with an exaggerated movement.

"Any requests?" He asked cockily. Nobody spoke and Ben nodded before lifting his arms and throwing himself into a cartwheel, then twisting into a back handspring and finishing with a backflip that brought him to the other side of the room where he landed effortlessly. Phasma let out a snort of laughter before turning to the girl who had previously spoken out.

"He's a better gymnast than you." Phasma said. Ben brushed his jeans off and straightened his shirt that had pulled up to show the smallest bit of his stomach. He walked towards you and held his hand up for a high five. You gave him one before he stuck his tongue out at you again. He'd been doing it a lot more you noticed.

"Ben would you be interested in being in the concert?" Phasma asked him suddenly. You heard a scoff from the girls in the corner and Ben looked bewildered. He hadn't come in the room today with the intent of being in the concert, just watching you practice. He looked between you and Phasma as if begging for an answer.

If you were being honest, you wouldn't mind Ben being your partner. David was nice, but he was lean and there were a lot of lifts in your dance. You were always nervous David would drop you, but you trusted Ben with your life. You knew he would throw himself to the floor to catch you before letting you fall. You hoped he would say yes.

"I mean, why not?" He said, more of a question than an answer. Phasma let a wide grin split her face.

"Wonderful, David can show you the video he had of the duet from last week, and you two can practice all you want. We only have two weeks." Phasma said. She dismissed you and Ben to follow David into the gym to practice the duet and teach Ben the new steps.

[goodnightallwhites]

Dark Times: Cuz Sonia by Zenalite

Chapter 1 - Sonia Life could be strange. Growing up, people taught me that it was better to appear strong than weak, and that strength was the only way to get what you wanted. There were so many cringy scenes in middle-school where this failed to bring results. One time a classmate had asked me if she could copy the answers from my homework; I told her sure, so long as she let me kiss her. She rolled her eyes and walked her sweet young ass away while my male buddies laughed and congratulated me. When the weakest guy in our class gave her his homework, we called him out and mocked him, but our cutie responded by giving him a quick peck on the cheek when it was over. I remember burning with rage at the thought that some spineless little shit felt her lips while I, who was daring as I was told I should be, was left a kissless virgin. It never occurred to me to use the same strategy. That I later met Lara in high school and watched her slowly succumb to wanting to black cock addiction to the point that I held her as a party as they stole her virginity before my eyes was pure chance. These things were accepted because I loved Laura and was afraid to lose her, not because of some grand plan. When Yennefer approached me and told me she wanted Lara to share me so I could be her boyfriend too, the entire thing blew my mind. Somehow, I, the loyal cuck that put up with everything, was the last boyfriend standing while the others got kicked to the curb. Through my selfless devotion to Lara, I not only solidified her love for me, but won the affection of the most popular ice queen in school. Even though none of them fucked me or would fuck me, there were butterflies of good feeling flying all around me. Scratch that, it felt amazing. Any fucking loser could go out and buy pussy with a few bucks, and there were plenty of dumb guys born with big cocks that could get a girl wet and willing for half an hour while they fucked only to face her cool disdain afterwards. I was loved. I was wanted. Of course, it did feel bad to think that I might not fuck any of them, but it was an okay sacrifice. It certainly helped that they wanted to fuck black guys and only black guys. On one hand, I wasn’t and could never be black, so there was no need to feel like I failed in any way. On the other hand, these girls were objectifying these poor black studs to such an extent that they spoke of them more like toys than people. It was all a little racist, but… There’s no way I’m going to call Lara or Yenn racists to their face. As I said before, Yennefer told me that she wanted me, and that Lara needed to accept that a great cuck like me needed to be shared, at least with the top bitch if not the entire school. It would’ve been nice if Yenn went and delivered this message herself; instead, she was sending me out there to get devoured if things went wrong. Lara opened the door for me dressed only in a pair of ripped denim shorts and a crop top. The frayed bits from the jeans brushed tantalizingly against her smooth and tan legs as she moved idly and the perfect outline of her breasts showing through the thin fabric of the top. A sexy smile played over her lips as the brown eyes settled on me. “Mr. Boyfriend, I presume? Where are my flowers?” “In my pants.” Lara burst with laughter, not expecting the wild card response. “That’s rich.” Then, her features softened and lost all tension. With a low whisper, she grabbed my hand with welcome gentleness and said, “Come inside, baby, I missed you.” She went barefoot over the polished floor of her living room, the muscles working along her long and tone legs as she dragged me along, those perky and soft breasts swaying enticingly under the crop top. Unlike Yennefer’s strong scent of lilac and gooseberries, Lara’s was understated, fresh and a little metallic. We headed into her room and she locked the door. “My parents might be home soon.” Some soft rap music played from her laptop resting in bed. I took note of the printer at the lying in the middle of the floor and the new images that were going up on her wall. All of them were pics of black guys or white girls, at times together, most of them captioned in the most overt way possible. One showed a blonde girl wearing a Swedish flag tee and surrounded by bare-chested dark-skinned guys: EUROPE IS IS GETTING BLACKED. Another was just a close-up of a girl’s sweaty abs: WORK HARD FOR BBC. Lara drank in my reaction. Her blood rushed just from looking at them, and her hands went absentmindedly over her nipples as they started nudging through. “Well? Do you like them?” “I do…” I made myself say, though it was strange. The political ones were especially strong. “Though maybe they’re a little” - her eyebrows began to rise suspiciously as the words left my mouth - “direct?” Lara watched me closely, then leaned in and let her hot breath fill my ear. “I am very direct. Mostly.” A giggle came out of her, then she grabbed the laptop and flashed a picture on screen, showing a white girl holding hands with a skinny white guy as she kissed a really buff black bull that must have been in his forties. Under it, Lara had written: BREEDING READY. “How about this one? Good enough?” She found it hard to take her eyes off of the image. “Uh. It’s nice.” “Oh, fuck off! Be honest with me! I’ll tell you what…” Her finger came up to her lower lip and moved across it. “If you give me a better one, I’ll give you a reward.” A reward? Well… “How about HER HAPPINESS COMES FIRST?” Lara thought about it then bobbed her head happily and giggled. “That’s great. I love that.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she made the edit, then our creation slithered out of the printer and across the floor like eldritch baby. My beautiful girlfriend grabbed it and pinned it to the wall next to the others. “There we go! Now, about your reward…” Lara turned around and came towards me slowly, swaying her hips in a sensual way while her fingers circled caresses around her toned tummy. Close enough that her breasts almost pushed into me, though she made a point not to engage in any physical contact. “Do you think I’m breeding ready?” As my eyes went over her wide hips and jiggling breasts: “Definitely.” “I could get pregnant even today. Can you imagine? I’d make a baby for us. A strong black baby, of course, the only type that’s worth having. Would you like that? Would you like to know your girl is carrying a superior man’s child?” She took my hand and placed it over the hot flesh of her stomach, letting me feel the silky skin and the hard abs flexing under it. “Can you imagine cuddling me to sleep as a black baby is growing inside of me, sweetheart?” She brought her braid around and stroked it suggestively as I melted under her unbearably hot gaze. Suddenly, Lara stepped back and grinned, as I was left trembling with arousal from her words. “Got you.” It was funny to her, but scary to me. In a matter of seconds she managed to take me to an entirely different place. Surely I wouldn’t have wanted another guy to really make her pregnant. But all it took to make me feel like that's what I wanted most in the world were a couple of well-placed words. “I--” Her phone rang before I could speak. Lara spoke to her mother quickly and politely, then hang up and cursed. “Fuck. Honey, you need to go. My mom’s coming. We’ll talk later.” And just like that, with questions in my head and an unbearable erection, she threw me out of her apartment, even before I could deliver Yenn’s message. She can’t say I didn’t try.   It’s time to unwind, I thought. But as soon as I got home, Mom came and told me in a hush-hush manner that my cousin came over and that she was resting in my room. “Be nice to her, she’s having a rough patch.” My cousin Sonia and I weren’t very close. We had been once upon a time, eons ago, but then she moved away with the rest of her family. I still remembered the clumsy way we parted ways when she left home, with her refusing to come out of the car to say goodbye. I only saw the back of her ginger head through the window. Of course, we talked since then, but it always felt like talking to a stranger… So, why did she come here today? The door to my room opened soundlessly, and Sonia was just there… sleeping on the bed. The way her hip rose in the air was as a mountain, the light jeans stretched to their utmost as she bent towards my view. Despite the larger-than-life rounded fat ass in front of me, her waist was small, and her lower half bent almost entirely out of view so that it was all one could see from the door. I gulped. “Sonia?” She exhaled softly. “Cuz? Is that you?” “It is.” Her head came around, just enough that one of her bright aqua eyes connected with me and realized her huge butt was lewdly directed right at my face. Blushing, she sat up and awkwardly played it off by toying with her fingers. “Sorry about that…” But now I could see her chest and the extreme way the ribs of her green sweater stretched across it. God, how big had she gotten since I last saw her? Even with as thicc as she was, those cowtits were massive... “Sorry to pop in like this.” “No worries, I’m happy to see you.” Sonia seemed weirded out by that. “You are? But we barely talk… Listen, I wanted to ask you something: Do you think I’m a good person?” “S-Sure,” I quickly voiced. “Why wouldn’t you be?” “You know I’ve been dating this guy for a while now… and I think I screwed it all up. He had this friend he said was platonic, his best friend, but I made him break off all contact with her. Then it turned out he was talking with her after all, and so I followed them.” “You followed them?” “To prove that he was lying! But I didn’t get the reaction I wanted… He was just… He cried, Cuz. He said I made him break the heart of his best friend. And she called me a bitch. And so…” And so she came to me to make her feel better about her shitty behavior. Six years we didn’t speak, and now this?... I did my part. I weaved her a version about how he should have been honest from the start or explained his position better, and how I always knew she was good and honest. It was enough to make tears well in her eyes and get her to smile. “Oh, Cuz, you’re so nice to me… You always knew how to make me feel better. I missed that. A lot.” As she spoke, I couldn’t help but wonder how big those jugs on her chest were. They were at least three times bigger than Lara’s - simply gigantic. And none of it was there when I saw her just a few summers ago. The words BREEDING READY from before came to mind, and all I could imagine was a black baby suckling from each one of those milkers. “Hey… You aren’t staring at my boobs, are you? Hehe!~ Don’t worry, everyone does it. Even old grannies.” Her hands came around them as if they were her babies. “You need strong hands just to lift them up.” “Black hands.” My reply wasn’t even conscious. I just spoke. “Huh? Come again?” I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth. “Nothing, nothing! I was muttering to myself.” But seriously, it was undeniable that she would have looked perfect getting blacked. All those soft white folds enveloping a big black cock, that ginger hair getting pulled on by strong dark hands… “Was your boyfriend white?” Sonia thought about that. “I mean, yeah. Why do you ask?” I shrugged. “A lot of girls in my school date black guys.” “Really? Oh, wow. I could never do that!” The way she said it sounded so amazed and confident that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she meant it: the idea of dating a black guy hadn’t even occurred to her. “I don’t really think I’d feel comfortable, you know?” “Dating someone that isn’t a pale ginger?” Sonia smirked. “No, you idiot! Dating a person that’s, you know… God, don’t make me say it. I feel bad saying it. But black guys aren’t exactly my type, let’s put it that way.” The almost completely unveiled racism combined with my antipathy towards her coming all this way just to use me made me want to see her punished and blacked. Hard. “Why don’t we go out?” “Hmmm? Go out? Where to?” “Let’s find you a boyfriend.” “Hahaha! You aren’t serious, are you? You’re crazy, Cuz. I don’t even have good clothes.” “You look fucking amazing already. Come on.” Sonia lowered her head shyly, so far down it was almost in her boobs. “You keep complimenting me, I’m gonna die. But okay. Let’s do it!” Before that, I needed to make a call. I left her in the room and headed to the bathroom, then scrolled with shaky fingers for Yennefer’s name. It rang a couple of times, then it said busy. Busy? Seriously… As I stared at the screen at the denied call, I suddenly saw my face reflected back. She was video calling me. Oh god… Her pale and dark-haired form materialized on my screen. She wore a shiny robe and was brushing her hair. “Why, hello darling. You’re a fast little worker bee, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Has dear sweet Lara seen come to terms with the new way things will work from now on?” “Uhhh… I’m working on it,” I said optimistically. Yenn stared right into the camera so I could feel her icy stare and sighed. “Disappointing, yet predictable. What would you like from me? I hope you aren’t begging for a show, I’m quite dressed and ready for my beauty sleep.” “Uh, no, no, no…” Her eyes narrowed threateningly. “I mean, I would LOVE that, but no… I wanted your help. You see my cousin’s over and I thought I would, uh…” “Initiate her in the Dark Arts?” “Something like that, yeah.” “And she’s come to our church begging for our teachings, or are you seeking the BBC version of a koan to force enlightenment upon her?” “Whatever the second is, probably.” Yenner smiled affably. “You are endearingly stupid, do you know that?” “Yes.” “Now, now.” She raised a finger in warning. “Vanity does not suit a man. Anyway, I suppose I can arrange this for you. I am very generous. Get your delightful cousin, I’ll send you an address soon enough.” “Thank you, Yennefer.” A smirk. She reached so far back with her brush that the robe began to open, showing a glimpse of-- Call ended. Sonia and I snuck out before my mom became aware. I only called her once we were at the bus station, pretending that Sonia insisted I go and that I had no choice. Meanwhile, Yenn sent me an address that appeared to be closeby. Standing there at the bus station by herself, my ginger cousin looked oddly vulnerable. She seemed very conscious of her bovine ass and breasts and the way everyone stared at her over them. A few girls that were trying to show cleavage by squeezing together some breasts that were baby-sized gave her genuinely hateful looks. “I hope that place we’re going to is more friendly…” I was worried Yenn would send us to some seedy club, but it turned out to be some teenage meeting spot, a book store turned cafe after 5 p.m. where people could take books out and read them while drinking. Sonia loved it, and we sat there for a whole two hours while I wondered if I had gotten the place wrong. “This is great, you know!~” She smiled happily as she flipped through another book she found. “Going out was a great idea. Not many boyfriends here though, except maybe the ones in these pages.” There was nothing to do but pay and make our way back home. Yennefer, what the hell? It was as we were chatting and walking up towards the bus stop that three guys got in our way. They looked like proper thugs, with face tats and golden teeth that flashed while they spoke. I said black guys, not fucking criminals, Yenn. “The fuck do we have here?” one of them said, circling around Sonia. “Ginger meat.” Another rubbed his palms together eagerly, then pulled on his crotch. “Looks tasty.” Sonia’s gaping eyes glanced at me as the three walled her in and started groping her, tugging at her tight sweater, palming her huge ass cheek, and running their dark fingers through her ginger hair. The few white guys that passed us by pretended not to see it and kept going like proper cucks. “Leave me alone…” said Sonia breathlessly. “I’ll call the police. Cuz!” I raised the phone to give the impression, at least, until one of them yelled at me to put it down or get my ass beaten down. I was beginning to question whether or not these people had anything to do with Yennefer at all. Could they have just been random guys? A bit suspicious… “Seriously…” Sonia tried again, her voice breaking down. One of the guys reached up and got a feel of her breasts, sinking his fingers into the warm folds of the plump flesh. “Goddamn,” he drawled. “These are some monster tits on you, aren’t they? We should inspect these. Make sure you don’t have breast cancer.” “I don’t!...” It was too late for her to fight back, as they were already pulling her after them. Whatever fight there was in Sonia evaporated pretty quickly when facing three black guys with arms about as thick as her waist. What kind of girl could have fought just one of them, let alone three? “Cuz! Do something!” she yelled. “What’s he gonna do?” one of the guys asked, laughing. That was true, I wasn’t about to do much of anything, except follow along and see where this led. They took her down an alley and then up a set of stairs that led to an apartment. They got her in the living room and locked the door, then threw her on the sofa as they took off their tops. Even my cousin, as strongly as she must have felt against the idea of being taken like this for the first time, took a moment to stare at the rippling musculature of their glistening and tattooed chests. Already, their dicks were so hard that they were outlined down the side of their pants, twitching ready. To my surprise, they didn’t rip her clothes off. In fact, despite all their big talk about how they were going to inspect her and so on, patting her down and feeling her up through her clothes was the most of what they seemed to be doing. Sonia looked away as they explored every curvy of her body, moaning each time they squeezed too hard on her. One of them came and dropped down on the sofa and pulled her in his lap, while the other two flanked Sonia. “Such a pretty ginger slut,” the one to her left said, coiling some of her ginger hair around his dark finger. “Uhm…” Though she appeared distressed, it was clear that the all the touching and attention affected her body on a deep primordial level. Not only were her cheeks a deep red, but her eyes were fluttering and her chest heaved with her heated, breathless inhalations. “Cuz?”...” said a lone whisper, but she wasn’t even looking at me. Only at the strong black bulls surrounding her that were ready to put her in her place. The guys took her pale hands and brought them down to their dicks as they throbbed through their pants, snaking so far down their thighs that even I found myself hypnotized. I watched dumbfounded as Sonia’s expression went from one of excitement, to pure shock as her fingertips explored the length and shape of their powerful shafts. “You like that?” they asked her. “You feel that thing under you?”  The guy she was sitting on started moving his hips and grinding her ass back and forth over his dick, slowly moving her back and forth while she jumped each time his dick hit her crotch. I could only wonder what her parents or boyfriend might have seen if they saw her being slutted up like this. Her mind was being warped in real time, and I could see the enchanted smile that started curling her as she took in the true size and might of those big black cocks. Her palms started moving by themselves over the shafts; at the same time, her own hips started rocking and helping the bull under her. Turned on by her new show of interest, the studs plunged their hands into her doughy breasts, each one kneading a different part, their strong fingers abusing the soft teenage tits of this breeding snowfunny as her white cousin watched helplessly. At some point one must have accidentally pinched one of her nipples, because Sonia threw her head back in pure pleasure and cooed submissively. The guy under her grinned, flashing his golden teeth. “You like that, bitch?” The aqua eyes looked to me for a brief second, as if seeking my approval. “I love it,” she confessed, still blushing wildly with shame, but completely unable to help herself. From the exhilarated way she sought to touch their cocks, it was crystal clear that the drugging effect of BBC lured her in. Her eyes went from one dick to another, gaping and unable to look away. “They’re getting bigger!” Sonia was awestruck. “No shit.” My cousin bit her tongue, then the wet mouth opened instinctively. “Can I see?...” she whispered, as if hoping no one could hear that. “What was that?” asked the guy under her. “N-Nothing,” stammered Sonia. The thugs brofisted each other and laughed it up. “You hear that, bro? She wants to see your dick.” The more I watched these guys, the more I realized there was something off about them. They were just so… stereotypically thuggish. There was an unreality about their behavior that went at odds with the mild manner in which they conducted themselves. The black guy under her yanked her head back by the hair and looked her in the eyes. “Well? Did he hear it right? You want us to get our dicks out and fuck you?” Sonia hesitated for a second. But it was only a second. A clear gulp went down her throat. “Yes.” The thug shook her. “Say it, you dumb white bitch. I want to hear it.” The obscene cowtits trembled on her chest. “I want to see your dick.” “My black dick.” Sonia’s eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “I want to see your black dick. Please,” she added. “Please? Well, ain’t you fuckin’ thoughtful. On your knees.” “Huh?” Before she could follow any order, the thug threw her to the ground and stood up before her, ordering her to kneel. “On your fucking knees, bitch! Now! Don’t you fucking hear me?” Sonia did as told and got down in a position of total submission, presenting herself as her hands were folded in her lap. “Please, sir…” He grabbed her by the ginger locks and came close enough that the outline of his big black cock twitching in his pants was right in her face. “Why don’t you kiss my dick? Show me how much you like it.” This time, there was no lag between his order and her actions. As if she were planning to do it all along, the full lips puckered up and landed right on the shaft, not just once, but many times over, delivering kisses so gentle they could have been meant for a lifelong lover. Even her tongue came out to lick it up and down, not caring it was trapped behind a layer of fabric. The thug laughed grimly, then pressed her face against his dick gleefully. I watched my racist cousin smile happily as she got her nose and mouth rubbed against his black cock. Yenn, you delivered… “Please, sir, just let me see it… Please…” she begged, as obedient as any worshiper now. How she went from a kidnapped victim to a cockcrazed slut in less than fifteen minutes was pure magic. He snorted and pushed her away. “Fuck no. Dumb white bitch. You think I’d waste my energy with you? We’re done here. Come on, get the fuck out of here.” Before Sonia could wipe the shock off her ashen face, he started kicking at her to get out, finally grabbing her by the hair and to shove her out the door like unwelcome trash. I was left behind, and once the door closed, the thug came over to me and spoke casually: “Okay, I think we’re done here,” he said, in a totally different voice. “Are we good?” “Uhm. I’m not sure?...” “Yenn said she needed a bit of a push... so, we got her there, right?” The other two started removing the gold off their teeth and wiping off the face tats. Wow. It had all been a sham? The guy watched me impatiently. “Well?” “Yes, you did great…” “That’s wonderful.” He put his hands together and bowed ever so slightly. “Thanks. So how would you rate my performance, on a scale of one to ten?” “Oh my god,” the other two said, dropping their thuggish voices as well. “Leave the kid alone, man, he’s not here to rate your acting. Performance, he says.” They snorted. “You haven’t gotten a role in two months.” “If this wasn’t a role, then I guess I won’t share the pay, huh? Anyway, you should go now. Tell our friend things went well, I could use the boost.” I came out of the apartment amazed at their and Yenn’s professionalism, and found a dismayed Sonia waiting for me. “Jesus!” She ran over and hugged me, and I could feel the warm breasts pressing into me. “I thought they were going to hurt you.” “Thankfully not.” She took a step aside and pushed her hair back, avoiding eye contact. “What happened in there… You know that was just acting, right? I was just trying to avoid getting raped or worse.” There was no way that was the truth of it. Even if she played it up, she definitely got excited by them… she still was, as could be seen from the glazed eyes and the shivers that kept passing through her. Yenn, you should’ve told them to go the whole way... As we went back home, I could tell her mind was elsewhere. “You said… those girls at your school only date black guys?” she asked me once we were back on the bus, going home. “Most of them.” “Huh.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “None of them got hurt?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hurt? Why would they get hurt? How racist are you, Cuz?” “Not racist! I’m just wary of new things, that’s all. But that’s… that’s good to hear.” For someone that had just been kidnapped and molested by black thugs, at least as far as she was aware, this was a very sudden change of heart in the opposite direction. “Maybe one day I’ll give it a shot.” I felt like toying with her further. “You just have to be careful.” “Careful?” Sonia blinked anxiously. “Of what?” “You know…” I kept my voice low as other passengers crowded around us. “That.” “I don’t know,” whispered Sonia harshly. “Tell me!” “I mean, you saw it even tonight. Black guys have cocks so big that they’re incomparable to tiny white pencil dicks. Most girls can’t take that. Some of them like serving as cocksleeves, sure, but it will still tear you apart and ruin you. These bulls will fuck you so hard that you scream and lose your voice. You won’t even be able to walk or talk after they’re done with you. You’ll just be a shivering hot mess. And the best ones get so many girls that they have no long term interests. All they’ll do is break you, put a black baby inside of you, and then throw you away like a used rag.” I could almost see the whole scene playing out in her head through the small movements of her face. At the end she just looked inwards, licking and biting her lip. I felt proud, pulling the same trick on her that Lara did on me, though I was getting aroused as well.. “Sounds awful,” she whispered, not even there with me anymore. Sonia was in her mind now, getting destroyed by black cock. In the span of a single evening, my “cuz” was turned into yet another BBC slut. I did this, I realized. Pride swelled in my heart.

[san-station]

A Quiet Place AU / ATEEZ (Post-apocalyptic)

Chapter 1

↝Word count: 1772

Description: In a world full of silence and dangerous creatures seeking for blood, a group of friends have to survive for their own good and find the safe place they’ve heard about months ago.

Pairing: OC x San.

Note: This story is entirely fictional. The written universe is an adaptation of John Krasinski’s movie A Quiet Place, some terms or actions may or may not be included in the film.

WARNING: The followed story contains descriptions of violence, explicit wounds, mention of blood, death, depression. If you are easily disturbed, please, stop reading for you own good. 

A/N: Hiiii, this is my first serie ever. I hope you like the beginning~! Sorry if there are some typos. Don't be shy, comment what you think about it ;3.

・・・・・・・・

Watch Your Steps

We had to rush, except none of us moved, our feet glued to the cement as if it was still fresh. We knew we had to run but again, none of us could assimilate it. The sound that lasted a millisecond wasn’t even the loudest, however they could hear the smallest chirp of a cricket in the deepest forest, the purring of a cat under a lot of sheets or the yawn of a baby before going to bed as silent as the wind blowing slowly… No matter if we were on the top of the skyscraper, they always heard. 

It hit my shocked face when the growls started. I was tired, thirsty, my legs hurt and I hadn’t eaten a proper food in forever; who would’ve thought that a fucking pile of beer bottles hidden behind the door of a small bird house located on one of the rooftop’s corners could ruined three months of surviving the craziest era humanity ever lived. Once the bottles stopped rolling through the wooden floor, my lungs felt fire due to the air I retained, my hands started to shake inside my coat... and it hit me again. We need to fucking run, was the only thing on my mind, but I was not being the reasonable person I was, the common sense was off the place and so were my hopes.

    Since I was a child, I thought heights were the scariest thing in the world. The moment I stepped into the rooftop I was already hyperventilating, but it couldn’t compare to the feeling of being chased by those bloodthirsty creatures, and I knew I wasn’t the only one thinking about that, of course. The two people with me had the same expression on their faces. Seonghwa, the guy on my right, tall, blue eyes, body shaped, black hair and paternal instinct, looked at me with wide eyes; he quickly put a hand over my mouth and shook his head violently, words couldn’t be exchanged at that moment, not when we were that close to be slaughter, but his eyes could tell everything. Don’t scream. 

In front of us was Misuk, a small and chubby girl with a fearsome attitude who happened to be the other only girl that was stuck with us. She had short blonde hair and the most amusing personality ever (at least for me). She was the one that opened the door nonchalant trying to find bird seed... Oh, I can tell she was really mad at herself; Misuk was the one telling us to be more careful every step we made (even though we knew), and she always put sand or wet dirt on the places where there was none to prevent any of us from stepping on false. Oh, Misuk…  

My body began to feel numb and the cold wind wasn’t helping either. Seonghwa’s black hair danced with the breeze along with his clothes, he was wearing a long beige sheep coat that Yunho had made two months ago, skinny black jeans with ripped knees, sneakers too dirty to remember their original color because of the lack of water and a sharp knife on his leather black belt. The handle of it had his initials, “P.S”, engraved in silver with a lovely handwriting. Misuk had her natural outfit when we had to go scavenging for supplies, a pair of worn blue jeans, old black Converses, a brown t-shirt with the logo of NASA and a big black jean jacket with some alien patches. Funny, she loved those things before they arrived, after realizing that she actually liked the little friendly green buddies like E.T instead of the monsters that came to Earth. Well, after a while she found another affinity: collecting some alien fragments from their dead bodies for her own pleasure. 

Misuk was a weird kid, but everyone liked her in their own way. I, for example, used to have some discussions about provisions or night shifts with her ‘cause of her lack of leadership and consciousness; I always preferred order, and everything had to be calculated, at least in this madness. But she was a free spirit, she never listened when Seonghwa or Hongjoong made a statement about her, she never cleaned when it was her turn, she sometimes laughed way too loud on our soundproof room and got all of us shhhing her,… but you gotta stick together in this if you want to survive.

Thirty minutes ago we were on the crusade to find more supplies for the rest of the group, it was the calm day #438 after the attack, creatures with hypersensitive hearing showed up on Earth after a meteor shower impacted in December of 2020. We head through the city once the sunrise illuminated the area. Seonghwa, Misuk and I were the assigned crew for the task of recollecting provisions for, at least, two long months. Well, we assigned ourselves because we’d been in those walls for like forever. San was pissed about it, but we didn’t care… now I think it was not a good idea after all. 

“Jiyeong,” Misuk called me with sign language when she stopped walking in the middle of the deserted road that connected our place with the city ruins we were heading to. Misuk’s hands followed a sequence while moving her lips simultaneously, “we should split to find more rations by ourselves, right?”, she shifted her bag from one shoulder to another and gave me a bright smile.

I hesitated. The last time we splitted up, we never found Jin, he was Misuk's brother and a friend to all of us. Hongjoong still blamed himself for allowing that option for starters. 

“I think it’s better for the three of us to stay together…”, Seonghwa signed with his hands covered by brown leather gloves thanks to the cold air that surrounded most of the city in late February. We both nodded in agreement, not before Misuk rolled her eyes at him and kept walking over the scattered sand that created a path of silence down our bared feet.

The city was an hour left on foot, people obviously forgot about the cars after the sound of the engine roaring was too loud and mortal for all of us. Step by step we got closer and the city buildings risen before us; sometimes (more than we needed) we found other individuals on the streets doing the same we’d been doing for months: surviving. On good days, we found families or old friends walking silently and moving on from their houses to others. On bad days -not my favorite ones to be honest- there were suicidal types of people that transformed the atmosphere completely just to put everyone around in danger. It wasn’t funny running or hiding for your life when you did nothing for them to come for you… I disgusted those kinds of people that believed they could choose who lives and who dies. Moreover, there were days when nothing happened, like almost these three months that we stayed underground with enough supplies in our soundproof room that allowed us to speak when we needed the most, we just went outside to find more provisions or walk and watch the sunset; but nothing last forever, supplies were almost running out and we had to finally get more.

The rooftop we ended up praying for our lives was our last searching point, Misuk wanted the bird seeds so much that she insisted on going all by herself after two long hours, she said we were slowing her down, however you couldn’t be alone out there. Not when they could hear you anytime.

I could listen my thumping heart on my ears; the growling became louder, closer, and the unpleasant feeling in my stomach gave me nauseous. Seonghwa stared now at Misuk; she had a deadpan face and decided to close the bird house slowly with her right hand while her left hand rested on her mouth for preventing her of letting out a gasp. I shook my head. Just leave it like that!, I wanted to scream at her. But when the beer bottles rolled again and collided with a seed bag inside the little house, it felt dry on the floor with the most horrendous echoing sound. I swallow hard, my head hurt and the shrill shout that came from the rooftop door activated all my senses. My brain proceeded to watch everything in front of me as if it was on slow-motion.

One creature broke the door with a clean slam, a second one followed its entrance. Their knife-hands cut the metal with a perfect precision and distant howls filled the place when one of them jumped higher that a human being could ever do. My shaky breath was held by Seonghwa’s hands when I stepped back, my fingers reached his owns and I squeezed them as tight as I could against my mouth. Misuk turned around as fast as she could when the hand of one creature slammed into her stomach in within seconds, the deafening sound of her ribs breaking made the tears instantly fall down from my cheeks to Seonghwa’s gloves, she gasped. The sore flesh was vividly cut and her eyes, wide and green, looked to the sky while her body jerked on the floor with a thump. The enormous hollow in the center of her belly straight away scattered overflowing blood all over the floor, and the rest of her body rested on the cement, still she found a way to turn her head into our direction and gave us a sad smile. Red drops were now on our clothes and faces, some of her large intestine and lungs were being eaten by both creatures making grumbling noises. It looked like they were having a Thanksgiving meal and we were probably the desert.

Then, a creatures pulled up its head and the sides of it was wide open as we saw the sound sensors vibrating, trying to reach for more victims nearby. Seonghwa and I could only watch the scene petrified. A tiny groan left Misuk’s throat with her last breath and I gasped in silence while my soaked eyes blurred part of the view, the ripping sounds of bones and flesh continued and I felt Seonghwa’s chest shake a little on my back, but he kept his head high aware of the beasts in front of us. I don’t know if he closed his eyes, I just know we stood there still watching our friend die and hoping we wouldn’t be next.

 (…)

Masterlist

[deductionjournal]

Studying the Methods of Sherlock Holmes in Light of this Changing Age: The Hat of Henry Baker

We are all aware of the dazzling and astute deductions made by our dear friend, Sherlock Holmes. As a dull light forces its way through a dirt covered windowpane, we are introduced through Watson's dazzled eyes, to Holmes' mind at work in an abandoned room of Lauriston Gardens. Empty except for an imitation marble fireplace and a dead man, contorted in a depiction of his agonising last moments. Standing aside and looking upon Holmes with a mixture of respect, curiosity, and sheer dumb-foundedness, Watson witnesses as the Great Detective traces around every inch of the mildew dotted walls and dust covered floor, and is at last able to give a full description of the murderer, from his height and boot size to his overly long fingernails. But as the years have passed and technology has pushed forward, is our dear friend able to keep up? Let us explore this question together, as we delve into some of Watson and Holmes' adventures together, dissect some of the most perplexing cases that the foggy streets of London had to offer, and view under the microscope how some of his deductions hold up in this changing age, before the world went all awry.  

Now, to go through each one of his deductions and inferences would be a difficult task without filling a book, so we shall only investigate a single example from his many adventures here. 

Our example is taken from The Blue Carbuncle, whereupon one late December morning, a sharp chill has gripped the Victorian streets of London causing windowpane corners to be thick with the icy frost common on these winter days. Behind one of these windows however, a cosy fire can be found warming the lodgings of 221B Baker Street. As the fire crackles, the light warmth emanating from the fireplace illuminates a scattering of newspapers cast in flickering shadow, showing signs of being recently rifled through and then evidently discarded to no consequence. Within arm's reach of this abandoned heap of papers lays a chez lounge that offers it seems, a great deal of comfort for its occupier, who at the moment is on the cusp of explaining something in deep thought to his colleague, as the latter, sat in an armchair by the fire is looking with interest towards an old hard felt hat he had just been indicated to by his companion.

“ I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker's name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches by smearing them with ink.”

Here, we have been given nearly all the data needed to make the inferences that Holmes is able to make (with the minor additions brought up elsewhere in the text). While Watson is unable to determine anything he thinks as noteworthy, handing the hat back to Holmes, let’s first see if you can follow the reasoning behind each of his remarks in the following passage...  

He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him. “It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. “He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house.”

How did you fair when comparing the two passages? Did you follow Holmes reasoning with any success?  Let us see what Holmes has to say for how he got to his immense conclusions and analyse each one in turn...  

“I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?”

For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. “It is a question of cubic capacity,” said he; “a man with so large a brain must have something in it.”  

This is a topic that has been under great debate ever since it reached people ears. Does the size of a person’s head or brain really act as any indication towards their intelligence? Many scientists have argued both sides of this [1,2,3,4,5] but after over a century of confusion, it seems that by the 1990’s and early 2000’s they came to an agreement via the use of MRI imaging of people’s brains [6,7]. The extensive research has determined that Holmes’ statement does hold merit, but in regards to time, was a 19th century detective right to come to this conclusion?

In this time the question of cubic capacity was only a theory, and not a well-researched one. Holmes, it can easily be believed, would have been aware of this theory and following his remarks in the series cautioning of making bricks without clay, he would, or at least should, have known that this theory could not yet be trusted. In light of this it may be that Holmes was just ahead of his game, for it is hardly the first scientific discovery that has been predicted by the great detective [8]. Alternatively, he may have added this in an attempt to just impress Watson; as there was no crime related to this hat, he may have felt the childish urge to embellish his statements, as he has been caught doing before (such as the florid face of a murderer in a Study in Scarlet)[9], in a way to impress his friend whom it can be believed has not visited for some weeks over the winter period.  

“The decline of his fortunes, then?”

“This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world.”

Fashion is a thing that is far too often overlooked. Trends come and go throughout the seasons and so for a Detective such as Holmes, it is evidently important to keep up. A modern-day comparison of this may arise with any item of clothing or accessory you can think of, for example if Holmes was to be presented with a pair of skinny jeans that are well-worn by countless washes, then it can be suggested that the owner is out of touch with modern mainstream trends, and may point to the decade they grew up in, and so on, in a way that reflects the above quote (skinny jeans became a popular trend in 2006 [10,11,12] but late 2010’s has notably seen an exchange in favour of palazzo trousers and drop-crotch trousers[13,14,15]).

One thing however that Holmes has not stated is the possibility of this item being a gift. Carrying on with the example of the skinny jeans, there raises fewer possibilities. Trousers (and obscurely sized hats), perhaps more than most items of clothing, are rarely gifted to people purely due to having to know the right size, something you can’t ask without giving away the gift, or without risk of insult, so they would have to be brought by either the wearer or someone close enough to know the size to get, such as a close family member or partner.

“Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?”

Sherlock Holmes laughed. “Here is the foresight,” said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. “They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect.”

“Your reasoning is certainly plausible.”

Fashion is brought up again, in a different manner, if Holmes is to make it in the modern age, he not only has to know what is fashionable, but also what counts as a fashion faux par. Although what he says holds grounds for that time [16], in this age the only hats witnessed with securers on belong to infant children in general beach vicinity, accompanied usually with a plastic shovel and spade and someone taking an adorable picture the child will grow up to regret.  

Moving on from Parisian blunders and beach pictures, Holmes states that a decrease in foresight is proof of a weakening nature, or as said earlier, moral retrograde. While there hasn’t been research giving a direct link between the two, it has been shown that illnesses such as anxiety and depression can be correlated with changes in moral upkeep [17], and such illnesses can be caused by problems rooted in drinking and gambling [18], though it should be noted these are not by any means the only causes [19], so whilst Holmes’ reasoning may have been correct with the link between foresight and morale, it was a bit of a stretch for him to claim that this was due to some influence such as drink, as I’m sure the loss of one’s fortune alone would be enough to cause such loss in morale.

“The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of training.”

Anyone who has had their hair cut to a short length can verify that it finds itself everywhere, so it is not surprising that it gets into the hat’s lining, within the loose hair’s closest proximity, and the adhesiveness of the lime-cream will naturally transfer from his hair to his hat, likely bringing a few strands with it, and while the type of hat mentioned may not be applicable to the general public anymore, hats such as flat caps are (at least for the time being)[20].  

It is also true that different types of dust have different properties, and so cling to fabrics differently[21], and the marks of moisture in Winter would suggest that it either had little to do with the weather (and the man therefore sweats a lot in any season), or that the hat hadn’t been rid of these marks despite treatments being available with the use of lemons or baking soda[22].

“But his wife—you said that she had ceased to love him.”

“This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection.”

“But he might be a bachelor.”

“Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg.”

It should be stated that the card on the bird’s leg reads “For Mrs. Henry Baker”.

This statement to Watson is more interpretation than based on any scientific evidence, however Holmes has had many cases surrounding couples in and out of love, and the attentiveness of a loving partner, and what a partner may do to regain that affection if lost, can be seen throughout many newspapers, stories, and from our very own experiences in life[23]. It is therefore not difficult to conclude that what Holmes says has some level of merit, despite lack of conclusive proof.  

“You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?”

“One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow—walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?”

“Well, it is very ingenious,” said I, laughing; “but since, as you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy.”

Of course, in this age most houses are lighted with electricity rather than gas, and modern use of a candle would most likely be in creating a certain atmosphere, however candles aren’t what they used to be. Tallow was very commonly used in the making of candle wax, and was composed of animal fats, supposedly giving off a rather unpleasant odour when burned[24]. However nowadays candles are made primarily from beeswax, gel wax, paraffin wax and so on[25], making it unlikely to leave the same smear on the fabric of a hat.  

Conclusion

So, what does this all tell us then? It seems that Holmes is a bit out of touch with the times, what with fashion trends changing multiple times a decade along with ingredients of candles, and I would imagine a great deal of other things (although having lived over a century ago it isn’t much of a surprise!). It also seems that Holmes has a knack for showing off, but as Watson said, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, so perhaps this was the reason for Holmes’ stretches of reasoning. Stretches aside, his method of analytical reasoning and scientific know-how can safely be said for the most part, to hold up to the test of time.  

But this is just one example, so can our dear friend Sherlock Holmes smoke his pipe easy? Not without further study of his other deductions, and he’s made plenty of them! His knowledge on scientific principles, as well as new theories certainly help his case, aiding in his thought process and providing good evidence for his claims, but new theories aren’t always the right theories, and while he may have been lucky in the matter of cubic capacity, he could have been talking as much sense as a hatter!  

Giving him the benefit of the doubt for his fondness of showing off to his friend, and until a further analysis of his other cases can be made, he may rest easy, curled up in his armchair by the warm fireplace, in the belief that his skill as a detective, while needing to be brushed up a little for the passing years, remains more or less intact.  

References:

[1] Egan V, Chiswick A, Santosh C, Naidu K, Rimmington JE, Best JJ. Size isn't everything: A study of brain volume, intelligence and auditory evoked potentials. Personality and Individual Differences. 1994 Sep 1;17(3):357-67.

[2] Estabrooks GH. The relation between cranial capacity, relative cranial capacity and intelligence in school children. Journal of Applied Psychology. 1928 Oct;12(5):524.

[3] Pearl R. On the correlation between intelligence and the size of the head. Journal of Comparative Neurology and Psychology. 1906 May;16(3):189-99.

[4] Andreasen NC, Flaum M, Swayze V, O'Leary DS, Alliger R, Cohen G, Ehrhardt J, Yuh WT. Intelligence and brain structure in normal individuals. American Journal of Psychiatry. 1993 Jan 1;150:130-.

[5] Wickett JC, Vernon PA, Lee DH. In vivo brain size, head perimeter, and intelligence in a sample of healthy adult females. Personality and Individual differences. 1994 Jun 1;16(6):831-8.

[6] Mathalon DH, Sullivan EV, Rawles JM, Pfefferbaum A. Correction for head size in brain-imaging measurements. Psychiatry Research: Neuroimaging. 1993 Jun 1;50(2):121-39.

[7] McDaniel MA. Big-brained people are smarter: A meta-analysis of the relationship between in vivo brain volume and intelligence. Intelligence. 2005 Jul 1;33(4):337-46.

[8] O'Brien, James. Sherlock Holmes: Pioneer in Forensic Science. Encyclopedia Brittanica. March 31st 2014.  [cited 20th June 2019] https://www.britannica.com/topic/Sherlock-Holmes-Pioneer-in-Forensic-Science-1976713

[9] Doyle, Arthur Conan. A Study in Scarlet. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008.

[10] Time. Skinny Jean [Internet] [cited 20th June 2019] http://content.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2011254_2014381_2014372,00.html [Published 20th December 2006]

[11] USAToday. Skinny legs and all: Jeans get slender [Internet] [cited 20th June 2019] http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/life/lifestyle/2006-04-16-skinny-jeans_x.htm [Published 16th April 2006]

[12] Wikipedia. 2000’s in Fashion[Internet][cited 20th January 2019] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2000s_in_fashion

[13] Confetissimo. 2018 [Internet] [cited 20th June 2019] https://confettissimo.com/en/fashion-style/what-to-wear/Palazzo-summer-trousers-topical.html

[14] Wikipedia. 2010's in Fashion[Internet][cited 20th January 2019] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010s_in_fashion

[15] Independent. How the Skinny Jeans Trend Finally Died and Made Way For Body Conscious Denim [Internet] [cited 20th June 2019] https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/skinny-jeans-trend-denim-athleisure-body-conscious-khloe-kardashian-a7371451.html [Published 4th March 2017]

[16] Nunn, Joan. Fashion in Costume, 1200-2000. 2nd edition. A & C Black (Publishers) Ltd; Chicago: New Amsterdam Books, 2000.

[17] Paulus MP, Stein MB. Interoception in anxiety and depression. Brain structure and Function. 2010 Jun 1;214(5-6):451-63.

[18] Martin RJ, Usdan S, Cremeens J, Vail-Smith K. Disordered gambling and co-morbidity of psychiatric disorders among college students: An examination of problem drinking, anxiety and depression. Journal of Gambling Studies. 2014 Jun 1;30(2):321-33.

[19] Khalsa SR, McCarthy KS, Sharpless BA, Barrett MS, Barber JP. Beliefs about the causes of depression and treatment preferences. Journal of clinical psychology. 2011 Jun;67(6):539-49.

[20] Mail Online. Peaky Blinders sparks flat cap revival [Internet] [cited 27 June 2019]. Available from: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3614942/Peaky-Blinders-sparks-flat-cap-trend-sales-83.html

[21] World Health Organization. Hazard prevention and control in the work environment: airborne dust. Geneva: World Health Organization; 1999.

[22] Bilgram V, Bartl M, Biel S. Getting closer to the consumer–how Nivea co-creates new products. Marketing Review St. Gallen. 2011 Feb 1;28(1):34-40.  

[23] Chang JS. Agony-resolution pathways: How women perceive American men in Cosmopolitan's agony (advice) column. The Journal of Men’s Studies. 2000 Jun;8(3):285-308.

[24] Henchman A. Tallow candles and meaty air in Bleak House. 19: Interdisciplinary Studies in the Long Nineteenth Century. 2017 Dec 1.

[25] Unique Candle Creations. Gel Candles vs Traditional Candles [Internet] [Cited 24th June 2019] https://uniquecandlecreations.com/pages/gel-candles-vs-traditional-candles

[maletfs]

The trek through the valley had reminded him of how unfit he was. How weak. A meagre man treading the wilderness on twig-like legs, swinging his atrophied arms about like a small boy on a school trip. His flat bum tucked in a pair of jeans three sizes too big. His concave chest concealing lungs unused to physical activity. His beardless face lacking any resemblance of manliness.

But all of those truths would soon become lies. Not because, standing naked in the middle of a mountain river, pneumonia would soon be knocking on his door. Nor because he was about to, in the fashion of dejected Shakespearean lovers, drown himself amongst the weeds and reeds. But because this corner of the river, hidden deep within the valley, held a powerful secret.

Sean stood, still and stoic, goosebumps crawling up his spine, and hoped. He hoped his years of research hadn’t been a waste of time and youth. He hoped that he wasn’t making a fool of himself, standing exposed for an unseen audience used to gullible men visiting these waters. More than anything, he hoped what he was about to attempt would actually work.

He took a breath of cold air, closed his eyes, and said the words.

“I wish I was a muscle bear: tall, strong, and hairy. I don’t want to be a twink anymore.”

The words didn’t echo through the woods, repeated by ancient sprites or magnified by mystical powers. They simply floated in the chilled air for a fraction of a moment before dropping into the gelid waters.

He opened his eyes and found the world exactly as he had left it. The trees and ferns danced to the rhythm of the wind, the river flowed of its own volition, and he was still a twink. Not a single extra pound of flesh or muscle, not an ounce, not a dram. His body stood as it always had, only a lot colder.

Sean started sobbing. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know anything anymore. He just stood there, the mountain waters stealing all his body heat, and cried. He wrapped his arms around his skinny frame and, as he felt his ribs sticking out from his sides, cried even harder. He hated this body so much, but all he could do now was cradle it as reality kicked him in the throat.

And then he felt it. Under his hands. His ribs were sinking deeper into his body, becoming less noticeable. He grabbed with his hands and fat followed, little love-handles that were not there a minute ago. His fingers travelled over his chest, his forearms, his back and his neck; and wherever they visited, they found a soft layer of fat, thin without a doubt, but thickening with every second. Even his legs were padding up, as the cold sting of the water subdued.

An itch on his chest brought his attention to a little patch of hair above his sternum. It was like an invisible seamstress was sewing the hair from within, each hair pushing out delicately. They spread over his bare chest like grass over hills, his nipples two fairy rings left untouched, and down towards his bushier crotch, forming a tantalising happy trail.

He frowned as he watched his member though. It looked like the skin around the base was developing, pushing his flaccid penis upwards and closer to his tummy. He tentatively touched it with his hand but the sensation was rough and dry. He thought it was maybe an allergic reaction until he caught sight of the palm of his hand, where he saw black pads of coarser skin. He examined them, noticing how similar they were to animal paw pads, and wondered what could have caused them. He tried to scratch them off but his nails were growing longer and sharper than usual and he feared he might hurt himself.

This wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Every legend and myth he had read about this corner of the world told him that wishes came true to those who asked. But Sean hadn’t asked for...

...oh. Maybe he had.

He panicked. Fight or flight kicked in, and since there was nothing but weeds and ferns to fight - none of which culpable for his predicament - he fled. He turned around and started for the riverside but, before he took a second step, he fell face-first into the waters.

Now, panic and water are renown as bad companions. When one’s motor functions are overridden by stress and fear, the simplest of actions - such as, let us say, stopping oneself from drowning, - can become painfully difficult to achieve. For Sean here, this was thrice as difficult, considering that a) as he opened his eyes underwater, he found his legs covered in a thick layer or dark, shaggy hair, which only added to his already building panic, and b) his still increasing mass and expanding frame made gravity and momentum behave in new and seemingly erratic ways.

When he finally succeeded in rising from the freezing waters, Sean was much changed. The thick layer of fat that had been added to his entire body had expanded beyond normality, turning into dense blubber that, combined with his brand new pelt of dark, thick fur, made the quasi-arctic temperatures feel like a summer breeze. His growing nails had developed into full, retractable claws, happily nestled in his bearish paws. And above his massive rear poked a little, fluffy tail.

He stood there, paralysed by the new sensations invading his mind. His bodily awareness was going haywire. His lower muscles felt compressed and heavy as they supported his multiplied body weight. He tried something as simple as wiggling the toes in his forelegs and immediately regretted. First, because he realised he now had forelegs as opposed to arms; second, because he felt his murderous claws rasping against each other; and finally, because he was growing aware of the size and strength of his flexors and triceps.

But part of him, a little corner of his stress-ridden brain, actually quiet enjoyed the feeling. It was new and unlike anything he had experienced in his life. He had always wanted to be a bear because he wanted to feel with a bear’s body, and know what it felt like to be big and strong. Well, now he knew. And it felt amazing! His voluminous chest and upper back made him incredibly aware of his own breathing and the tension going through his new muscles. His mouth felt like he had just visited the dentist and had his denture fixed, the new size and shape of his teeth making it awkward to grit them. But he also felt his new, elongated tongue exploring his muzzle, his snout breathing in the cold air and sending waves of information to his brain.

Overwhelmed by the avalanche of sensations, he dropped back into the water, his massive rear lying on the riverbed, and started examining himself. He did it one bit at a time, sequencing each new sensation so as to feel them more sharply: his new claws, his toes, his paws, his arms, his chest, his sheathed member, his ass... He spent a particularly long time exploring these last two, although the cold water only allowed for so much experimentation.

As he kept exploring each new part of his anatomy - his hind legs, his neck, his muzzle, his tongue... - his panic receded and slowly mutated into first curiosity, then fascination, and finally joy. His human mind, always muddled by depression and self-hate, was now much more interested in the simple pleasures of wiggling toes and sniffing the pine-scented air. A kind of contentment slowly took over his thought process as he realised that, after all his years of hard work, after all the sweat and tears, he had finally done. He had succeeded. He’d done it. He was a twink no more.

He was now a bear. Tall, strong, and hairy. And he kinda loved it.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @greentealycheejelly!

Written for the lovely @greentealycheejelly for the Malec Secret Santa 2018 exchange! You said that you liked "canon au, fluff, angst, and action" so I tried to hit those tropes!

Read on AO3

*****

all night (or a hundred years)

Alec’s pencil makes a scratching sound as he scribbles into his notebook. “Thank you for that update, Luke.” Alec shuffles through his notes. “Next order of business… Raphael, any updates on that mundane found dead by the DuMort?”

“My clan is still looking into it, but I’ll let you know as soon as they find something.”

Alec nods. “Thank you, please do. Magnus is also following up on a lead as we speak.”

“So that explains his absence,” Meliorn says, an annoyed lilt to his tone.

Alec quirks an eyebrow. “Yes, because he’s on an assignment.”

“A special assignment from the Head of the Institute?” Meliorn huffs and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I don’t believe you were nearly as gracious when I had to take a leave of absence last month. I wonder why that is?”

“Are you implying something, Meliorn?” It takes all of his years of training to reign in the fire bubbling in Alec’s veins.

“Cut it out, you two,” Luke interjects. “Alec, you said there was a lot on the agenda, and we’ll never get through it at this rate.”

Alec takes a deep breath, centering himself. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Meliorn says flippantly, and Alec’s about ready to snap his pen in half.

Footsteps squeak against the linoleum floor as someone approaches their congregation. Magnus hurries over to them carrying a decaying, leather-bound book and a stack of yellowing parchment.

He wears a pair of tight, black skinny jeans that hug him in all the right places and a sheer, short-sleeved top that showcases his strong arms. Sky blue and lilac flowers are embroidered throughout the black mesh, interspersed between patches of gorgeous bronze skin, and Alec has to look away before he swoons. The universe is truly testing him today.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” Magnus says, pulling out the empty chair next to Alec.

They’re so close that Magnus’ breath tickles the back of Alec’s neck on the hiss of his ‘s,’ sending a warm shiver throughout his whole body. Magnus’ hand brushes against Alec’s as he sits down beside him, and it takes longer than it should for Alec to get his breathing under control.

“No, problem, Magnus,” Alec manages to stammer out. “We all understand.”

“Do we?” Raphael raises an eyebrow, and Luke (not so) discreetly elbows him in the ribs. He swears under his breath in Spanish.

“Right, so what did I miss?” Magnus asks.

“Alec was just telling us about the special assignment he had you working on.” Meliorn’s voice is as thick as honey and drips with the weight of heavy implication.

Alec clears his throat to try and distract from the way color bleeds into his cheeks as if he was in the heat of battle or had a bit too much to drink at the Hunter’s Moon.

“Alexander, are you alright?” Magnus asks, placing a hand on Alec’s shoulder.

“I’m fine.” Alec’s voice cracks at the end of the word.

“Are you sure? You’re turning crimson.” Magnus’ mahogany eyes hold concern and a genuine regard for Alec’s well being. It’s overwhelming being caught in such a gorgeous, compassionate gaze. “Do you have time to stop by my apothecary later? I want to get a proper look at you.”

Raphael gives Meliorn a knowing look and mutters, “Playing doctor?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Raphael,” Magnus chastises. “You know I take care of my friends.”

Friends. The word stings more than kuri venom; it lingers far longer than any demon attack ever could. It lingers in Alec’s mind when he’s tossing and turning at night imagining what they could have been if Alec hadn’t been such a coward all those years ago. It lingers in his heart whenever they’re alone, and Alec swears he sees a glimmer of those feelings Magnus must have buried long ago. And it lingers in his soul whenever they work together as allies, as leaders, as partners, because they really are compatible in all the ways that count.

But none of that matters, because they’re just friends.

“Thank you for the offer, but I have some work I really need to catch up on,” Alec says.

He doesn’t miss the way Magnus looks almost disappointed; it tugs at something in his chest, and regret pools in his gut, but then he reminds himself that he must be imagining it. There’s no reason why Magnus would be disappointed at not getting to spend time with him.

“Another time then,” Magnus says.

“So, how did your mission go?” Luke asks, steering the meeting back on track.

“Well, it was certainly interesting to say the least.” Magnus shuffles through his stack of papers and fishes out a few blown up photographs, sliding them to the center of the table. “Raphael sent over these photos of the burn patterns on that mundane found by the DuMort.”

“Right, you thought they might be Edomei in nature?” Alec prompts.

“Precisely,” Magnus confirms. “But I had to track down one of my more… unseemly contacts to be sure.”

“What did they say?” Meliorn asks, and Alec’s relieved that he finally seems to have dropped the teasing and focused on work.

Magnus licks his finger and leafs through the decrepit tome, scouring the pages for whatever he’s looking for. When he finds it, he turns the book towards the others.

“Dragons?” Raphael asks, incredulous.

“Dragons have been extinct for centuries.” Meliorn waves him off.

“Mostly extinct,” Alec corrects. “There have been about half a dozen dragon demon sightings in the last century.”

“That’s not extinct enough.” Luke shakes his head. “When was the last sighting?”

“I believe last week,” Magnus says.

“You think a dragon demon killed that mundane?” Raphael asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I don’t think, I know.” Raphael opens his mouth to speak, but Magnus continues on before he has the chance. “I brought a sample of the ash found at the scene to my contact, and they confirmed it was the same ash produced by a dragon’s hellfire.”

“Why would a dragon be stalking my hotel?” Raphael looks skeptical. “And how come we haven’t seen it yet?”

“Perhaps you have something it’s looking for,” Magnus suggests.

“My abuelita’s award winning empanada recipe?”

“Or a solid gold casket,” Magnus suggests.

They table the issue for now, deciding to have Alec dispatch extra patrol teams to cover the area around the DuMort while they conduct more research, and move on with the rest of the meeting agenda. Meliorn launches into a complaint about mermaids swimming in the Central Park entrance to the Seelie realm, but Alec barely hears a word of it. He’s too focused on the way the light streaming through the Institute’s stained glass windows hits Magnus just right, casting him in a warm, ethereal glow.

He looks beautiful, incredible, otherworldly. Then again, he always does. And Alec is so in love with him.

A few days later, Alec finishes typing up the meeting minutes and sends them out in a quick email to the rest of the Cabinet. As soon as he hits send, he folds his laptop shut, and drops his head to his desk, letting out a muffled groan into the treated wood. It’s certainly been a week.

A knock on the door sends him scrambling, but when he looks up, Izzy’s already standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a knowing smile playing at her ruby-red lips.

“Rough day?” she asks as she crosses the room and takes a seat on the couch.

“Something like that.” he says, joining her. His head is pounding, whether from banging it on his desk, worrying about the murdered mundane, or embarrassing himself in front of Magnus, he’s not sure, but probably all three. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just wanted to check on you. You seem… stressed.” She rests her hand on his knee and gives it a soft squeeze.

“I’m fine, Iz.” He shakes her off, scooting down the sofa. “Just busy.” Busy hiding. “Speaking of, any updates from the patrol teams?”

She shakes her head ‘no.’ “So far they say everything looks normal near the DuMort.”

“That’s good.” Alec gets up and heads over to his desk. “Is that all? Because I have a lot of work to—”

“You can’t keep hiding this from him.”

Alec freezes, his feet glued to the spot but his heart beating so fast it might break through his chest and run away. Alec wants to run away with it. He’s not ready to have this conversation; he’s never going to have this conversation, because there’s nothing to discuss. He and Magnus are colleagues, nothing more.

“He deserves to know how you feel.”

At that, Alec turns to face her. “Why does it matter how I may or may not feel? Magnus is an adult, not some pining teenager. I’m sure he’s fine without me.” He realizes that he’s gripping the edge of his desk when his hand starts to cramp, and he quickly pulls it away to relieve the ache.

She raises an eyebrow. “When did I say I was talking about Magnus?”

Dammit. Alec deflates, caught by his far too perceptive baby sister, and all of his confidence and bravado dissolves as he slumps back down on the couch with her. “How did you know?” He doesn’t dare look at her, just stares down at his hands in his lap.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” she says, trying to be gentle.

“Do you think he knows?” Alec doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I think you should find that out for yourself.”

Alec sighs. “It’s not gonna change anything.”

Izzy inches closer to him on the couch and rests her hand on his back, rubbing circles into his shirt with her thumb. “But it might.” She looks up at him with warm eyes. “And you deserve to be happy.”

Alec cracks a smile and wraps an arm around her side, pulling her in closer. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and the scent of her floral shampoo tickles his nose. “Thank you for looking out for me, but I promise you, I’m fine.”

“And stubborn as all hell,” Izzy tries to mutter under her breath.

“What was that?” Alec asks, and Izzy perks up, quickly uttering, “Nothing!” just a pitch too high.

“You know.” She presses the back of her hand to his forehead. “You feel a little warm. Are you feeling well?”

Alec tilts his head to the side, confused by the direction the conversation has turned. “Yeah?”

“Well, it’s flu season. I think you should get checked out.” Her eyes drift away from his face and focus on the couch upholstery. “I heard Magnus has a friends and family discount for check ups.”

Heat flames from the tops of Alec’s cheeks to his ears to down his neck. He wants to ask her how she found out about that but realizes that she was probably eavesdropping during the Cabinet meeting. Knowing Iz, she had her ear pressed to the door like they used to do when they were kids, and their parents were hosting representatives from the Clave.

“I think I’ll take him up on that offer.”

Alec could keep fighting her on this until she finally dropped it, but then she’d just give him the cold shoulder for the rest of the day and he’d feel guilty, or he could play along with the out she’s giving him like he really wants to. If anyone asks, he’s going over to Magnus’ to see if he has any new intel on the dragon demon investigation, but he and Izzy know the truth.

Though he doesn’t want to admit it, Alec would use any excuse to see Magnus.

“Alexander.”

Magnus says his name like he’s savoring the taste on his tongue. It sends goosebumps down Alec’s arms. He gestures Alec inside, closing the door behind him with a snap of his fingers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Alec wipes his clammy hands on his jeans and prays to Raziel that Magnus doesn’t notice the way his hands shake when he does. Alec spent the entire walk over rehearsing what he was going to say and practicing his confidence, but all of his meticulous planning and false resolve melts away as soon as he comes face to face with Magnus.

“I was in the neighborhood.” About 45 minutes away from your apartment. “So, I just thought I’d stop by.” Alec wets his chapped lips with the swipe of his tongue. “And, uh, see if that offer for a proper check up was still on the table. I’m not feeling well.” I needed any excuse to see you.

Magnus’ lips curl into a smile, his lip gloss glinting under the soft lamp light, and Alec imagines what it would be like to tug him by the jacket and kiss him senseless.

“For you? Always.”

Magnus guides Alec into his apothecary and sits him down on a leather stool. He flits about the room, collecting jars with concerning labels like “Giants’ Toes” and “Snake Tears” and rifling around drawers and cabinets for tools and magical oddities. He pokes and prods Alec with so many things, Alec actually breathes a sigh of relief at the sense of familiarity when Magnus draws out a mundane stethoscope — primitive though it may be.

Magnus stands behind him, instructing Alec to breathe normally, as he listens through the device. He presses two fingers to Alec’s wrist and checks his watch, taking Alec’s pulse. Then takes it again a minute later.

“Your breathing is a little shallow, and your heart rate is slightly alarming, but besides that, everything else seems normal.”

Alec swallows down the urge to tell Magnus that it’s because of him. “Thanks for the check up. Any recommendations, doc?”

Magnus pretends to think about it. “Spend the whole day in bed.”

Magnus’ eyes widen as soon as he realizes the implication laced in what he just said, and he drops the stethoscope. Alec moves to pick it up at the same time as Magnus. Their hands brush as they reach for the cool metal. Their eyes meet, and Alec feels the temperature in the room increase by about twenty degrees.

The moment is interrupted by an alarm screeching from Alec’s back pocket. He yanks his phone out and swipes over the screen. A red angelic power rune flashes, and Alec scrolls up to read the distress signal.

“One of my patrols.” There’s a delay as his words catch up to his mind, and he reads and rereads the alert. “They were ambushed by the dragon demon. Down in Astoria.”

Alec grabs his leather jacket off of the back of the chair he tossed it on when he first arrived and scans the room, trying to remember where he left his bow.

“Give me the coordinates. I’ll make a portal.”

Alec opens his mouth to protest but then thinks better of it. There’s nothing he can say that will dissuade Magnus from coming along, because that’s the kind of man Magnus is. People are in danger, so he’s going to help. There’s no argument to be made.

It’s one of the infinite things Alec loves about him.

Magnus takes the phone from Alec. He stands in the center of the room and circles his arms, glowing orange magic flaming at his fingertips as he conjures a portal. The air grows thin as the vortex sucks out all of the room’s oxygen — like a vacuum. Magnus looks to Alec to make sure he’s ready. Alec slings his bow and quiver over his shoulder and stands beside Magnus in front of the portal.

Magnus laces their fingers together, and they leap.

Alec doesn’t let go when they step through the portal. They emerge near the Hell Gate Bridge, which Alec thinks is fitting given the circumstances. He hears the crash of rushing water coming from the Hudson and a shriek unlike anything he’s ever heard before.

Footsteps crescendo up the asphalt path he and Magnus are standing on as Underill sprints over to them. He’s out of breath by the time he catches up to them, panting as he rests his hands on his knees. Alec finally realizes that he and Magnus are still holding hands and releases his grip.

“The demon… sir…” Underhill tries in between breaths. “Lindsay and Raj—”

“Are they okay?” Alec prompts.

Magnus summons a bottle of water and passes it to Underhill, who swallows down the whole thing in three gulps. “They’re alive,” Underhill says, “but they need medical attention.”

Alec turns to Magnus. “Can you keep the portal open?” Magnus nods, and Alec shifts his attention back to Underhill. “I need you to take them to the infirmary.”

“But, sir, what about you—” Underhill tries to protest.

“Magnus and I have it covered. Now hurry up; that’s an order.”

Underhill helps Lindsay and Raj to their feet, slinging their arms over each of his shoulders, and dragging them through the portal. Alec has his bow drawn and ready, surveying the area for the dragon demon to cover them while they make their escape. As soon as Underhill ushers them through, Magnus seals the portal behind him.

Alec hears a flapping sound and a sudden gust of wind knocks him off his feet.

“Alexander, are you alright?” Magnus asks as he kneels down to help Alec up.

Alec dusts himself off. “Yeah, I’m fine— Magnus, look out!”

They duck just as a giant flying mass swoops above them. It fills the air around them with a rancid stench, like rotting flesh and spoiled eggs but a hundred times worse. The scent is as ingrained in Alec as the sound of Izzy’s laugh or Max’s favorite book. Demon ichor.

Alec looks up and sees the unmistakable silhouette of a dragon. Its emerald scales glisten under the afternoon sun as two wings, at least ten feet each in length, flap to keep the beast afloat. Six ivory horns protrude from the top of its head and smoke flares from the tip of its snout. It opens its mouth to let out another piercing scream, so sharp it could shatter glass, and reveals a mountain range of jagged teeth. But what Alec can’t stop staring at is the dragon’s eyes — as pitch black as coal and as cold as a January blizzard.

The demon launches up about fifty feet in the air in five seconds, and Magnus and Alec make a run for it, taking cover behind a stone fence.

“What do we do?” Alec asks, breath coming out in pants.

“I don’t know. You’re the one who hunts demons for a living.”

“But I’ve never hunted a dragon.”

The demon barrels towards them, its body spinning like a lethal projectile. They dart away in opposite directions just as the demon collides with the fence and shatters it. The demon clenches its jaw, almost like it’s charging an attack, and Alec realizes that it’s readying a fiery breath.

He braces for heat, but instead, the demon opens its mouth and shoots out a bolt of lightning, scorching the earth below. Magnus hurls an orange pulse of magic at the dragon, and it cries out when the blast connects. Alec nocks an arrow and launches it at the demon’s abdomen, and the demon retreats behind a patch of trees, black blood dripping as it goes.

“I think we made it angry,” Magnus notes.

“Could be worse.”

The demon charges towards them again, plowing down the bramble of trees in its path, but it swoops upwards and abruptly stops as soon as it reaches Alec. Its motion sends an even stronger gust of wind Alec’s way, knocking his quiver off his shoulder, and the demon breathes out a bolt of lightning, destroying all of Alec’s arrows.

Alec, rendered defenseless against an aerial target, runs as fast as his legs will take him away from the dragon. Magnus throws a ball of energy at the demon’s head, his glamour dropped in the heat of battle revealing two golden cat eyes. Rather than go after Magnus, the demon seems to want to finish what it started with Alec, accelerating towards him after recovering from Magnus’ attack.

Alec runs towards an open plane — cover nowhere close enough. The dragon takes the opportunity to breathe out another barrage of lightning.

Magnus’ piercing cat eyes dart from the dragon to Alec, and in a split second decision, Magnus hurls out a pulse of magic that sends Alec flying. As he’s launched through the air, Alec watches the dragon’s blast collide with Magnus, shooting electricity throughout his whole body. Magnus cries out in pain but lashes out with every last drop of magic he has.

Alec passes out as soon as he hits the stone wall of the bridge.

Alec comes to gradually. He feels warm sensations tickling his skin, like he’s bathing in a bed of silk, and the soft hum of familiar blue flames coaxing him awake. Magnus.

Alec blinks his eyes open, wincing as his eyes adjust to the light from the setting sun, and moves to sit up. A sharp pain shoots up through his chest where he collided with the bridge. It feels like a shard of glass is traveling through his veins, and for all he knows, maybe that’s what’s happening.

Gentle hands nudge Alec back down, and an arm wraps around his back, pulling him closer to a chest that beats as rapidly as his own.

“I’m sorry, angel. I’m not done healing you yet,” Magnus’ soothes.

Alec grimaces as Magnus’ magic stitches his skin back together, healing bruised ribs and mending broken bones. Magnus works with the skilled hands of a surgeon but with the delicate care of a NICU nurse, only moving Alec when absolutely necessary to minimize the pain.

“I know it hurts.” Magnus’ voice sounds like a lullaby. “But I’m almost done.”

Alec reaches up, his fingers brushing Magnus’ cheek. The simple motion takes far more energy than it should — a testament to just how serious his impact with the wall was — but it could have been so much worse if it was the dragon’s lightning blast he faced instead of the rough concrete.

“You threw yourself in front of the demon, that could’ve killed you.” Alec groans as Magnus mends a particularly tender muscle. “Why would you risk your life to save me?”

Magnus stops healing him for a moment and shakes his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. “You stupid Nephilim,” Magnus chides, but his tone is light, as if he were scolding Alec for having dessert before dinner. “You honestly haven’t figured it out by now?”

“Figured what out—” Alec starts to ask, but then it dawns on him and suddenly the last few years of their relationship click into place.

All of the late nights poring over ancient texts until dawn broke at the Manhattan skyline. The biweekly updates to the Institute wards Magnus assured him were standard protocol. The charged glances across the room at Clave functions and the casual touches during post-Cabinet meeting drinks at the Hunter’s Moon. Every moment that Alec cursed himself for reading too much into.

He was right.

“By the Angel, I’m an idiot.”

Magnus chuckles, beaming down at Alec’s head in his lap. He absentmindedly runs his fingers though Alec’s hair as a sad smile tugs at his lips. “I’m sorry for bringing this up now. I know it’s not the time, especially when… I know you don’t feel the same.” Magnus looks away, but his fingers still tangle in Alec’s hair.

“What? No, I—” Alec moves to sit up again and regrets it immediately, stumbling back into Magnus’ lap. “I want to be your idiot.”

Magnus’ eyes widen, his rich brown irises glamouring his natural gold, and he sits back on his heels. He looks shocked and scared and ready to flee as soon as he can, like a trapped deer, but after learning that Magnus feels the same, Alec will never let him go. He’s wasted too much time already that could have been theirs.

“I’ve been in love with you since we defeated that Circle member together.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says, “that was years ago.”

“I know.”

“I clearly made my affections known back then.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you terrified me.”

Magnus’ face falls, and he looks as though Alec just stabbed him in the heart. Alec has unknowingly played with his heart and disappointed Magnus so many times throughout their relationship, and he’s tired of it. He’s done hurting Magnus. Magnus deserves so much better.

“You’re the most incredible man alive, and I didn’t deserve you. I still don’t,” Alec clarifies. “You were also the first guy I ever had real feelings for, and I was afraid that you’d break my heart. But now I see that’s all I’ve done to you.”

“You still don’t see how special you are, Alexander.”

“Not with you right above me.”

Magnus leans down and presses his lips to Alec’s. Magnus tastes like everything Alec imagined he would, from the cool mint of his lipgloss to the salt of his skin and the fire of his soul, Alec loves it all. Alec cups his hand around Magnus cheek, and Magnus tugs at his hair. Alec licks into the wet, hot heat of Magnus’ mouth, savoring every last moment with this beautiful man he craves so desperately.

When they part, Magnus whispers, “So, you want to be my idiot?”

Alec wouldn’t have it any other way.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Look in Her Eyes- Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty, The End

Ava

We pulled up to the edge of the Devils trap at sunset. John drove the Impala and Dean and I were in the back seat. I was surprised he wasn't upfront next to his father. Instead he sat next to me, gripping my hand in his. He was afraid, and if they opened the gate to Hell we should all be afraid.

I squeezed his hand back and put my spare hand on top of his. His hands were clammy. "Hey." I whispered as I pressed my lip to the space beneath his ear. "You good?"

"Golden." He responded, barely above a whisper.

He thought we were going to lose.

We got out of the car. We had blades, guns, and holy water strapped to every empty space on our bodies. I wore a pair of skinny jeans tucked into boots. My gun was in my waist band and another strapped to my thigh. I had my hair in a braid down my back so it wouldn't get in my way.

"Let's do this." Sam said, nodding to his father. They stepped over the iron railroad rails into the giant devils trap and began slowly creeping toward the center.

I took a step forward before I felt Dean grab my hand. “Wait a second."

I turned to him. "What's wrong?"

He held my face in his hands and kissed me urgently. "Don't get hurt. Hell isn't worth a single hair on your head."

"Don't get sentimental, Winchester." I said, leaning into his hands. "Let's stop the apocalypse." I wiggled my eyebrows at him, but it didn't change the wrinkle on his forehead.

I clicked the safety off my gun and stepped over the line. Dean followed closely behind.

We caught up with Sam and John quickly, and made our way to the center. The wind was howling around us, thunder booming, lightening lighting up the sky. Something was coming. I just hoped to god that we would beat them to the punch. We had to find the gun.

I never told the boys, but I'd met them before. I was probably 8 years old. I was at Bobby's while my parents were celebrating their anniversary. I was told to stay in the back room when John and his boys arrived. Sam was little, around five years old.

I couldn't help but watch them from the back room. Sam would try to play, but Dean was so serious. He kept telling Sam to stop, at least while John was there.

Bobby had this patch of flowers outside the house that his wife had planted. I snuck out the back door and gathered a small bouquet. I snuck back inside and laid the flowers in front of the boys door.

Kids should be happy. I was under the impression that Dean had never smelled a rose. If he had, then he couldn't be so sad. I watched him open the door and pick them up. He looked around before pressing his nose to the flowers. He smiled. I didn't know what he did with them after, but I was just so happy that he was able to smile.

I could make him smile forever.

I looked up a the sky. "Dean." I murmured.

"What?" He asked, following my gaze.

Large bellows of black demon smoke circled around our heads. They were beating down the devils trap. They wanted to see it, the gate to hell.

"We need to hurry." Dean said, changing into a jog. I followed quickly on his heels. Sam and John met our pace easily.

The wind and weather got worse the closer we got to the center of the devils trap. The closer we got to the gate.

My braid whipped around me. The air seemed to chill. It was heavy, and my chest ached.

"The center is a cemetery." John said. "We are getting close."

The closer we got to the center the less demon activity I could see. They couldn't get to us, not here.

We opened the gate to enter the cemetery and John waived for us to cover all the edges.

I could see a man. He was tall, and obviously ex military. He was strong, I could tell by his wide shoulders and the way that his jacket was snug against his arms. In his right hand he held the Colt. He wasn't being cautious, not enough. So he didn't see us walk up behind him.

"Stop right there." Dean said. All of our guns were raised an pointed at him.

He turned and looked at us. He was human. He couldn't be a demon, because he was in the trap. My heart squeezed. "What do they have on you?" I asked him. "We can help, just don't do this. You don't have to do this."

He smiled then, showing all of his teeth. "Little girl you don't know anything, do you?" Something sparked in his eyes. "Put that gun to your head."

My hand started to shake, as I felt my arm curl up. I wasn't in control. It felt like a muscle twitch at first, but then I didn't feel like me at all. My body wasn't my own. "Dean." I managed to croak out as the metal of my gun touched my temple.

"Let her go." Dean commanded.

"You put your guns down."

The men looked to each other before lowering their guns.

"Good." He said before taking off toward the crypt he stood in front of.

I could feel my finger press on the trigger as John pushed the gun away from my head. It went off and my muscles relaxed again.

Sam and Dean unloaded their clips into him, but it was too late. The man pushed the Colt into a hole in the center of the door and the inscription in it started to spin. He fell face first into the dirt.

Dean walked to me and pulled me into a hug. "That was close." He whispered into my hair.

There was a click and we all turned toward the door.

"Get down!" John yelled.

Dean yanked me down behind a headstone and pulled me against him to protect me from the blast. I held onto him tightly, but even from down below there was a rush of black smoke. I could feel it pulsing in the air. The demons were pouring out of Hell. The sheer number of them were breaking through the iron rails, letting in the demons circling. It was a wind storm of demons.

"We have to close the gate!" Sam shouted.

Dean nodded and released me from his grip before pushing back out to the gate.

Dean

I ran as hard as I could to the gate. Demons poured out of it, and walking towards the gate was like running into a hurricane. Dad, Sam, and Ava were pushing up behind me. I reached forward and pulled the Colt from the hole it was stuck in. I yanked and flew backwards, smacking into a gravestone a few yards back.

"Damn." I groaned as I sat up. The three of them pushed against each side of the doors, trying to close the gate.

They seemed to be making a little headway when I saw a man walking towards me. "I think that belongs to me." He said gesturing to the Colt.

I looked up and saw his eyes. They were yellow.

"You bitch." I shakily raised the gun to him.

He tilted his head to the side and with a wave of his hand the Colt flew. "Uh uh. Don't play with Daddy's guns."

"Dean!" Ava called to me, a look of terror in her eyes. She looked to the gate and to me, before she ran to me.

Yellow eyes cut her off and grabbed both of her arms.

"Ava!" I shouted, standing up. "Let her go, dick!" He flicked a finger, and I was pressed against the headstone. I couldn't move. I struggled against the invisible force holding me.

He looked at her. "You care about this girl." He touched her cheek. "You wouldn't kill me if I were inside of her." He opened his mouth, his smoke trickling out. It stopped at her lips and sucked back into his body. "She's warded."

I met Ava's eyes. Sam and Dad almost had the gate closed, but since Ava abandoned it they were struggling to push the doors together.

“Where, oh where." He said eyeballing her open skin, his fingers trailed along the bottom of her shirt and he lifted it. "There we are." Ava struggled against the arm that held her. He was a demon, and he was too strong for her. He pulled out a knife and pressed it against her tattoo, slicing it.

Her mouth opened in a scream, causing Sam to turn and look at us. "Dean!" He shouted. Dad gave him a nod and he moved from the gate, running towards us.

Yellow eyes grinned at me. "I wonder how it'll feel to be so pretty." He opened his mouth and his smoke screeched out and flowed into Ava's parted lips.

Lightening danced above our heads, and thunder shook the graveyard.

The man that was possessed fell to the ground next to Ava. She cracked her neck and opened her eyes. They glowed yellow. She leaned down and picked up the Colt. "Can't use this, can you boys?"

"Ava can you hear me? Resist!" I fought harder.

"I'm in her head, you know." Yellow Eyes said with a smile. "There's a lot she doesn't say."

Dad pushed the gate shut and turned to us. "Azazel!" He yelled.

Ava turned to him, blinking in surprise. "John Winchester." She folded her arms across her chest. "I thought it was time we met. These are your boys?" She laughed, and flicked a finger, releasing me. "They won't let you kill me."

"They don't have a choice." Dad said, as he burst into a run.

"No, no, no." Yellow eyes said, bringing the blade up to Ava's throat. "I can still possess her even if she's dying, even if she's dead."

"You won't kill her." Sam growled. "She's your leverage."

"True." Yellow eyes shrugged. "But I can hurt her." He took the knife and cut her arm, blood pouring out. "I can hear her screaming." Ava's eyebrows wiggled. "She's afraid."

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" I shouted.

Sam started chanting.

"An exorcism? Really?" He said, taking the knife and plunging it in between Ava's ribs.

Sam paused for a moment, as Ava balled over.

She looked up, and the yellow eyes were gone. "Dean. Kill him." She coughed out, blood pouring out of her lips. She tossed the gun my way. I caught it with shakes hands. "Let me go." She said before her eyes rolled back into her head. She blinked and they were yellow again. "Feisty thing." He said. "But you won't, Will you, Dean?"

I held up the gun. "It's what she would want?"

"You'd really shoot your girlfriend and your baby?"

The air went cold around me and my hands shook. "You're a liar."

"I'm not." Yellow eyes said, with his hands up. He reached down and touched Ava's stomach. "I can hear the little heart beat. I can tell that she didn't know, not really. In denial." Ava's mouth opened and a sinister laugh escaped her lips. "Probably doesn't want to admit that the father is someone like you. A Winchester. You're all cursed." He hissed.

"Shoot it son!" Dad shouted in desperation.

"She's in there!" My voice shook. "Sammy do the exorcism."

Sam started to chant again.

I could see her leaning over the toilet, throwing up. She had seemed off ever since then. She couldn't be. We were careful... we were...

"I know you're worried about me hunting, but I'm going to do it anyway." She pulled up her dress, causing my heart to skip a beat. She wore black lace panties, and a matching bra. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes traveled up her pale skin. They landed on a black anti possession tattoo on her ribs. "I'm here for the long hall, so don't use me hunting as an excuse. If you don't want me, then just say it."

That night in the motel. I was enchanted by her. I was drunk.

"Son do it, quick!"

Yellow eyes growled out at Sams exorcism, he took the knife and drug it across Ava's throat.

It went is slow motion. I could see the veins popping, and blood pouring like a waterfall.

"No!" I shouted. I could see the black smoke start to escape from her lips, and I pulled the trigger. I could see the the bullet spin. It collided with her chest before Yellow Eyes could smoke out. I watched his eyes widen as white hot electricity rolled through Ava's skin and in to his spirit. He cried out in pain, and it didn't sound like Ava at all.

He went dark, and her eyes looked human again. I dropped the Colt and ran to her, catching her in my arms before she hit the ground.

She was already gone.

—————

Chapter Twenty-One, A Bad Deal

Get caught up!

Forever Tag List:

@foreverwayward

@xjamiedennettx

[writinanon]

Horsemen Tales

All of the parts for the Horseman of the Apocalypse AU where in the Deputy is the White Horse, Conquest as well as the baby sibling of all of the Horsemen and wants to keep Hope County all to herself as her little slice of the World. This will be an on going series as other Characters meet Rook’s Siblings.

  Faith blinked when she hadn’t heard from the Deputy in a while and decided to look in on them. They were sitting with a few of her soon to be Angels talking about something animatedly.

 “It’s so dumb. You shouldn’t be called Angels. Angels are fuckin’ losers. They all have daddy issues and can’t hold their liquor for shit. An’ they’re so frickin’ slow. Only good thing ‘bout Demons is they is fast. Like it’s a little difficult to fights with ‘em on account of how fast they can be.” She said, loudly. That was a shock because if there was one thing about the Deputy that was known among the Seeds it was that she was fairly quiet, even when screaming in pain at made it was a muffled shout. But this was loud, brassy, almost yelling. Faith was concerned before she noticed the fact that the Angels were completely still. She checked the tank system set to pump Bliss into the room and found the tank completely empty. That should have killed the Deputy. Faith slowly opened the door and the Deputy took notice instantly, moving faster than the other woman could blink, Rook stood before her with a grin on her face. “Lil’ button! I was wonderin’ when you’d come back! Guys look it’s my little button.” Rook, who was easily six inches shorter than Faith, lifted her into the air with ease and carried her into the room. Upon further inspection all of the would-be Angels were indeed dead but that didn’t seem to bother the Deputy.

 “Deputy?”

 “Yesh?” The Deputy was tying Faith’s hair into braids.

 “How long have you been in here?” The Bliss was making her head dizzy.

 “Hm? Since you left me. Your pump is broken. Didn’ stop the fuzzy.”

 “Oh?” Faith’s head was starting to swim.

 “Yeah. You know what it’s a nice day out let’s go outside.” And suddenly they were in a large field. Faith tensed as the Deputy continued to braid her hair. “I like that it’s not very humid right now. Spring and Fall are the best because of the warm sunlight and you only need a little coat.”

 “What?”

 “Coats? I don’t like ‘em. So heavy and not comfy. Infact Harlow usually likes ta eat ‘em. Literally feeding off my dislike.”

 “Who is Harlow?”

 “You haven’t met Harlow?” The Deputy sounded utterly shocked. “You have to meet Harlow.” And then they gave this long and eerie whistle. Hoof beats filled the air and then a startlingly white horse, it was impossible to tell if it was a Stallion or a Mare, was suddenly standing next to them. It was a massive horse, how the Deputy rode it would be a sight.

 “Say ‘lo to Harlow!” She giggled happily.

 “Hello.” Faith faintly realized that there was a farm house in the distance, one she hadn’t seen before. “Rook is that your house?” Faith needed to get the others. Joseph would know what to do.

 “Yep. Just moved in an’ all. It’s on a fisher so the self-righteous pricks can’t find me. I don’t wanna start the end of the world. Specially not now. I got a baby.” The Deputy flopped backward and the horse nuzzled her face. “Tickles Harlow.” She hummed, not sounding the least bit bothered.

 “Would you mind if I used your phone?”

 “Who ya callin’? Is it the beardy ones?” Rook’s eyes flashed in amusement. “Not for nothin’ Button but I’d rather not have tiny beardy one tryin’ ta give me more tats or big beardy one makin’ noise with the lil’ box. Though if he brings the puppies I could live with it. You’ll get him to bring the puppies, right?”

 “Of course. But I have to call them first.”

 “Okay.” She whined and then gave the flower patch next to her. “Don’t gotta go to the house ta call y’know.”

  Jacob, Joseph, and John found themselves in a large field. Faith was sitting with the Deputy next to a large white horse that was wearing several flower crowns and the Deputy was explaining something.

 “So you see it wasn’t really rats that carried the plague but Giant Gerbils! Also callin’ it the Black Death was entirely dramatic English people.”

 “I see. And you didn’t end the world then because?”

 “There were three Popes. I wanted to see a Pope fight.” Faith caught sight of them and was about to say something when John was practically lifted into the air and there was a whinny. “Harlow! Coats are not for eating!”

 “Your Horse is attempting to eat me!” John shrieked and the Deputy rolled her eyes and stumbled to stand up before walking, a bit wobbly, over.

 “Harlow doesn’t eat people.” She replied in a condescending tone as she grabbed his arms and yanked, tearing him free. “Harlow and Seneca don’t like meat. Now Sela or Gemma on the other hand might but I think they like less crunchy meals. You’re so skinny.” She poked his ribs.

 “Deputy.” Joseph called her attention as the horse was now happily munching on the part of John’s coat that it managed to keep. “Perhaps you could tell us how we came to be here?”

 “Well not to alarm you but your parents had sex. Unprotected sex most likely.”

  The Deputy watched as Jacob and Joseph argued over what to do while she continued to braid flowers into Faith’s hair.

 “Would you like a flower crown John?” Faith asked pleasantly and he glanced over from his sulking, still upset over his coat. Harlow was sitting at the Deputy’s back. Upon further inspection it was a White Arabian Stallion. For her to have an actually White Arabian was a good argument for the Horse to actually be supernatural in origin as White Arabians were rare and usually just grey that looked white at a distance. It nickered at him and blinked large dark eyes innocently.

 “No.” He snapped and then felt the world shift and he was laying down with his head in the Deputy’s lap. She smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair.

 “Don’t be silly everyone should wear a crown. Crowns are great see?” She pointed to the simple band of white gold that wrapped around her head. “Though modern crowns aren’t really practical, it’s hard to go into battle with them. They’re like a huge beacon of stab me.” He could feel her twisting and folding flowers into his hair but he was struck with how peaceful her face was at the moment, eyes still blown to the point that her honey brown was barely visible.

 “What sort of Horses do your siblings ride?” Faith asked, Jacob snorted still not believing it despite there being no other clear explanation.

 “Well Seneca, Billy’s Mount is a dappled grey Arabian. Arabians are great. They’re the oldest breed in the world. Ephraim’s Mount is a Menorquín it’s such a pretty horse and it’s really fast. They’re one of the only breeds that is pure black and has to be pure black or with only minor white markings to qualify as bred true. Conall’s Mount is really big. It’s a Percheron and its coat is such a dark red it looks black. We don’t know how me managed that, we think he had help from one of his Nephilim friends. My Harlow and Billy’s Seneca are both stallions and Sela and Gemma are really nice mares. I think I could call them.” Another loud whistle passed the Deputy’s lips. There was a long pause but just as Jacob was about to claim victory three sets of thundering hoofbeats filled the field. Only the Horses weren’t without their Riders. “Oh hi?”

 “Rook, sweetheart is this where ya been hidin’?” The red gold haired one rumbled like a coming storm. He looked over the Seeds before dismounting. He was taller than Jacob by a few inches and was just as broad across the shoulders. His hair was clipped short to his head but what was there was spiked out. His eyes were a deep maroon color, almost looking like blood. His skin was pale but covered in freckles. He was wearing fatigues but they had no completely identifying marks on them. There was a sword strapped to the saddle, the leather of its handle was dyed red. Next to him was a tall thin man with sharp features. He had a set of scales tattooed on his wrist and was wearing loose fit jeans and a white button up shirt. The final member was the same height as the Deputy and was black. Her hair was in loose curls that bounced as she moved. She was wearing a black leather jacket and a pair of black jeans and biker boots. Her cinnamon eyes were bright and all knowing.

 “No?” She murmured and attempted to hide behind John.

 “Why are you hiding behind me?”

 “Because if he sees what you did to my chest there won’t be enough of you left to fill out that coat of yours.”

 “What did he do to your chest?”

 “Nothing!”

  The Seeds were sitting around the Deputy’s dinner table. The Deputy was grumbling about being hung over, head buried in her arms while Conall sat as a livid sentry next to her.

 “Rook you have until the end of breakfast to explain why we shouldn’t feed them to Sela and Gemma.” Ephraim placed a plate of eggs, sausage, toast, and fruit in front of her. Blood shot eyes narrowed at him as she reached for her fork.

 “Stupidly attractive.” She mumbled, reverting back to her quieter self now. “Make good pets.”

 “Honey you think everyone would make a good pet.” Billy remarked as she sliced into an apple, eating the chunk off her knife.

 “Religious, strong, unafraid of blood, button.”

 “Also, have tortured you mentally and physically, left you to die in a burning helicopter, and want to torture you further.” Conall countered.

 “Let me have Button?”

  The Ryes were utterly shocked when Rook arrived, on horseback where did she even get a horse most of them were taken by the Seeds, followed by three others, also riding horses.

 “Hey.” Rook waved and then motioned to the others as they dismounted. “My siblings.” She edged closer and Kim knew to hand over Skylar without a second guess. Rook smiled and cooed gently down at the baby as her siblings moved closer. The tall redhead reminded Nick a little too much of Jacob, if Jacob was even bigger and didn’t shave the sides of his head like a hipster. He nervously kept his hand near his gun but the large man looked over Rook’s shoulder and smiled.

 “Ain’t she a little sweetheart.” His voice was like the distant roll of thunder.

 “Let me see you giant.” The thin skinny one muttered pushing him away and leaning closer. “Oh, she is just precious. Have you given her a Blessing yet? I could do it if you don’t want to.”

 “Humans stay human Ephraim. Remember last time?”

 “We agreed never to speak of that again.” He frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. “Fine I’ll Bless the house then, ha! Can’t stop me from blessing a house. Houses aren’t people.”

 “Ask first.” Rook smiled fondly.

 “Kimberly and Nicolas of the Rye Family would you allow me to honor my sister’s patronage of your child with a Blessing?” He bowed to them.

 “Uh sure?” Nick and Kim looked at each other, wondering what their friend had gotten them into.

 “Wonderful.” He seemed to bounce, like Rook did after she successfully liberated an outpost, whispering conquered to herself half the time.

 “She’ll be an absolute beauty when she grows up. Better limit her time with my baby sister or she might become a runner for a Disney princess too.”

 “Animals are better than people.” Rook mumbled and tickled little Skylar getting a giggle. “Most people.” She tacked on and smiled at them.

  The Ryes now had to live with the fact that they were going to periodically live with the Horsemen of the Apocalypse dropping by to coo sweet nothings at their daughter, and any possible future children. Rook had sat them down after handing Skylar to Conall and he instantly started blowing raspberries into her pudgy stomach. She explained what she was, what they were, and that she would understand if they chose to revoke the agreement of her godparent status.

 “Like hell no way those bastards are gonna be able to touch my daughter with someone like you watching over her.” Nick had said instantly and Kim smacked him upside the head.

 “As long as you’re still Rook I don’t care what you are.” Kim smiled and Rook had hugged them both tightly before they went into the living room and found Billy holding Skylar while Ephraim and Conall argued over who should give her a horse. “Y’know she’ll probably not be able to ride it if the world ends.” Kim said casually taking her baby back when Billy offered. Billy smirked at her, eyes glittering in that all-knowing way that all depictions of Death seemed to have.

 “Rook’s already called off the End. It’s really put that Preacher out but he seemed cheered by the knowledge that he could now actively try to pursue her.”

 “Joseph gives me the heebie-jeebies.” Nick shuddered and Rook shrugged.

 “Pretty eyes, nice voice.”

 “I still think you should reconsider your choices. What of that one we visited the other day? The nervous mountain man? Sure, he could use a trim all around but he seemed like a fine specimen for a pet.” Conall stated. “Also? I don’t care how many Wolves he has the Mongrel is going to have to do some serious groveling.”

  John blinked when Rook pulled the arrow out of her leg and raised an eyebrow at him. She flashed bright gold eyes at him before cutting down the last of his men. Before he could intervene, he felt the back of his fixed coat being lifted into the air. Rook grinned and sauntered over to him.

 “Playing with the big boys now.” She stood on tiptoe and tapped his nose before punching him in the stomach and knocking the air from his lungs. There was a rip and he fell to the ground. She knelt over him and chuckled sticking a flower into his beard before mounting her Horse and vanishing into the trees like she was never there.

  Faith watched as Rook stripped down and then walked into the river. There were scars littering her body, none of which were recent. Her back was the worst area and has what looked like whip marks. Without really thinking Faith stripped herself and followed the Deputy into the water. Rook glanced lazily over her shoulder, she was much more relaxed now that her secret was known and she didn’t have to keep up the act of being completely human.

 “Button.”

 “Why do you call me that?” She had been curious since the Horseman had first called her though, laughing madly.

 “Little button nose. It’s cute.” Rook reached out and traced the bridge of Faith’s nose down to the tip before tapping it and smiling softly.

  Joseph was mildly unnerved as the pair of brothers sat in the pews of his church listening to his sermon. Were it not for the fact that they stood out so utterly he might not have even noticed them. And then the doors of his church were kicked open and in walked the Deputy, unimpressed. She grabbed her Siblings by the ears and dragged them out. She could have at least stayed for the end of services if she was going to be dramatic about it.

  Jacob growled as he was without prey once again for the third week in a row. He knew it was the skinny one, Famine. War was far less subtle and had ruined six months of hard work by undoing the conditioning on several of his best soldiers.

  Rook lay in her fields with her head in her oldest sibling’s lap. Billy hummed softly and raked her fingers through thick hair.

 “I’m not going to try and talk you out of it, but maybe you should consider a leash if you do actually take them as pet?”

 “Hm.”

 “The redhead is into that isn’t he?”

 “Mhm.” Billy sighed and shook her head.

 “At least your goddaughter is cute.”

 “Love all my little pets.” Hope County belonged to Conquest, every single Soul inside it was hers.

[twentyonecrybabiies-blog]

Teachings - Lawlight

SUMMARY: Light hates L. But when he is forced to share a room with him on a school trip and L teaches him some valuable things, he realises he doesn’t hate him as much as he thought.

WARNINGS: pure gay filth (only making out don't worry kids remember consent is key)

High School AU

—

Light Yagami flopped on his bed and sighed. His case had been abandoned as the foot of the bed, and his groans were muffled by the white sheets. L Lawliet perched precariously on the edge of his own bed, his thumb between his teeth and his bare feet gripping the covers. The room was small, the beds almost touching, with only a thin table keeping them apart.

Light wished the gap was bigger.

It’s not that he hated L or anything but… Oh who was he kidding? He couldn’t stand L. There was something about his smart, cocky, introvert attitude that just ticked Light off. He threatened Light- he could easily kick him off the top spot in school. All their friends knew Light hated L- hell, even the teachers knew it! But their friends also thought they would end up together, so maybe they set this up (they had joked about doing something like this for months).

Light wouldn’t doubt that for a second.

Light rolled on his back and crossed his arms behind his head, his legs dangling over to edge. His tie was askew, his top button undone, parts of his shirt untucked, revealing patches of pale skin. L’s uniform was almost impeccable; a slightly crumpled shirt, a slightly loose tie, a pair of black jeans, almost identical to his messy hair, covering his skinny legs.

L stood up suddenly, taking his thumb from his mouth, and picked up his case. He opened it, to reveal a few outfits and a pair of shoes. Light watched as he placed his things in the dresser. His shirt became untucked when he leaned over, revealing his sickly stomach, with ribs and hips poking out. Light, even though he disliked the boy, wished he was a little bit fatter. He preferred people with a little fat; he found it endearing. L left two drawers for Light, before returning to his weird sitting position. Light turned his head to look at the ceiling. He had tried to get out of sharing the room with L, but his teachers refused to let him swap with anyone. - “But Mr. Ryuk!” Light cried. “You know how much we despise each other! I can’t possibly share a room with him!”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to, Light. There is no other option. And please, give L a chance. I think you’d get along quite well.” Mr. Ryuk sighed, placing school books on the table. Light waved his arms about.

“Surely there’s someone I can swap with?” He tried. Mr. Ryuk shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Light. The rooms have already been set. I am truly sorry. Now go, class begins soon and you don’t want to have a detention.” Mr. Ryuk waved his hand in the direction of the door. Light huffed, clutched his books to his chest, and swept from the room. - Light pushed himself off of the bed and leaned over to grab his case, missing the sharp intake of breath coming from L as he did so. He opened the case and unpacked his things into the two spare drawers. At the bottom of his case were two bottles of vodka and two glasses- something Light had packed so he could distract himself from being in the room with L.

“Light?” L whispered. Light turned to face him.

“Yes?” He asked impatiently.

“Why have you got alcohol? It could kill you.” L pointed out. Light rolled his eyes.

“Oh I don’t know L, maybe I’m going to use it to treat all my wounds.” Light said sarcastically. L looked down.

“I apologise, Light. That was a stupid question.” Light pursed his lips and laid on the bed again. Dinner had already passed; they had all night to do whatever before their trip officially started tomorrow morning. Light checked his watch; it was almost ten.

“It was.” Light agreed. L sighed softly.

“Is that why you hate me?” L asked. “Because I ask stupid questions, and I can’t get anything right?”

Light said nothing. L turned away.

He reached for his case and took out a bottle of vodka and the two glasses, pouring himself a glass. For some reason, he felt the need to offer L a glass. Surprisingly, L took the glass and watched as Light took a sip from his own. L copied his actions.

The burning fluid slid down L’s throat, and he coughed quietly. Light chuckled to himself and took another sip. L took out a book and tentatively leaned against the pillows of his bed, holding the glass of alcohol in one hand. He took small sips every few minutes. Meanwhile, Light was nearly finished with his second glass.

They were both going to be in for a long night.

—

Two hours and about six drinks later, Light was pretty tipsy. Not drunk enough to forget what happened that night, but tipsy enough to do things without thinking.

“L?” Light slurred. L turned, finishing through last drop of his fourth glass. Light had beaten him by a long shot- he had drunk nearly eight glasses of vodka.

“Yes, Light?” L smiled softly.

“Why have I never been kissed?” Light asked. L looked shocked.

“You… You haven’t been kissed?” L repeated.

“That’s what I said, right?” Light said, confused. L nodded.

“Sorry, I was… I was just shocked.” L apologised. Light waved a hand at him lazily.

“No reason to be. I was just wondering because… well, I’m almost graduating high school, and I still haven’t been kissed. Sober, that is. I know for a fact I kissed alot of people drunk. I mean, the furthest I went with a girl sober was holding hands, three months into the relationship. And that was in my first year of high school!” Light cried dramatically, seemingly sober for the moment. L mulled over this.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since?” He queried. Light shook his head.

“I haven’t. I found that girls aren’t really my type, and there wasn’t exactly millions of boys in the school.” Light admitted. The power of the alcohol was compelling him to tell this boy- almost a stranger to Light- All his secrets, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Your gay?” L whispered excitedly. Light nodded once.

“Well, uh, I could, um, show you?” L offered bashfully after a minute had passed. Light stopped in his tracks.

“What?” He whispered, pushing his brunette hair out of the way. L ran his fingers through his own dark locks.

“I could show you how to kiss. Properly. Sober.” L said with more confidence. Maybe it was the few glasses of vodka speaking. Maybe he just really wanted to do this. Light pondered for a moment, before rolling off of his own bed and flopping onto L’s. He pushed aside his dislike, and focused on only one thing.

Getting his first sober kiss.

“Show me.” Light demanded. L grabbed Light’s hands and gently placed them on his own skinny waist, then slowly placed his own cold hands on the side of Light’s face, tracing his sharp cheekbones. He avoided Light’s, and ever so slightly leaned in.

“Are you sure?” L whispered. Light nodded and closed his eyes.

He could smell the alcohol on Light’s breath, but he was sure his was the same. When their lips were mere millimeters apart, L hesitated. Was this the right thing to do?

His thoughts were cut short when Light closed the ever-so-small distance.

Light’s lips moved against L’s, and his moved against Light’s. His hands moved down from his face and hooked around his neck, interlacing his fingers behind it. Light’s arms circled L’s small waist and gripped it tight, pulling his body closer to his own. The kiss was gentle; sweet. Until L just couldn’t control himself anymore.

He pushed Light back against the bed and slipped his legs between the younger boys, laying on top of him. His lips left Light’s and traveled down to his jaw, where he left soft butterfly kisses. Light moved his hands up L’s back, making the white shirt ride up. All influence from the alcohol was gone, and it was pure attraction and lust that kept the two boys from pulling apart.

L moved his lips down Light’s neck, until he found a particularly sensitive spot. He nipped and sucked and kissed everywhere around it, creating multiple love bites, in the shape of an ‘L’. Light groaned, the sound sending shivers down L’s body. He moved his lips back to Light’s, his hands tugging on his long hair.

“Fuck, L,” Light moaned. L chuckled against his skin.

Light sat upwards, and L’s legs wrapped themselves around his waist. As they kissed, Light fumbled with L’s shirt buttons. He tore his tie away and undid the top buttons, before he got distracted by L placing his lips on his neck once more. He grabbed at the last few buttons until the shirt was open, and he pulled it off of L’s shoulders. Moans tumbled from Light’s mouth.

Light pulled L back to his mouth and ran his hands across his pale chest, kissing him furiously. L’s tongue gently slid across his lower lip, and when Light refused to let him win, he slipped his hand into his jeans. Light’s mouth opened to let out a moan, and Light’s tongue slipped inside. They battled for dominance, L obviously winning. They stayed like that for a moment, locked in a tight embrace, red faced and in pure bliss.

Light was the first to break the kiss, the lack of oxygen becoming clear. He placed gentle kisses all down L’s chest, his hands resting on his slender waist. He lifted his mouth to kiss along L’s collarbone, leaving small hickeys in his wake, and L arched his back and let out a long moan. Light’s jeans were becoming tighter and tighter, but they weren’t doing anything tonight; he was sober enough to know this.

L pulled Light up and tore his shirt off, some of the buttons popping off the shirt. Light was too busy to care. His tie was thrown across the room, and L ran his fingers down his chest, across his muscles and down to the waist line of his trousers. Light’s hands stopped him.

“No.” He told L. “We aren’t doing that tonight. Not here.”

L smiled, “At least let me take care of that.”

L pointed to the tent in Light’s jeans, and Light flushed red, but still shook his head. He could take care of that on his own. L nodded in acceptance and molded his lips against Light’s once more. The two boys fell back against the pillows, still in a warm embrace, their lips touching softly. They pulled apart, and Light rested his head upon L’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. L wrapped one arm around his waist, and tangled the other in Light’s hair, gently stroking his head. Light wrapped his arms around L.

“You know L,” Light yawned, “I never hated you.” L looked down at him.

“What?” He whispered. Light smiled.

“I never hated you. I thought I did but I think I was just threatened by you. I mean, your attractive in this… not so normal way, and I like that. And come on, you could easily beat me in school.” Light chuckled. L smiled back.

“Thank you, Light. That is reassuring. Now please, get some sleep. It’s almost one.” L pulled Light closer to him, and he tucked one arm behind his head. Light closed his eyes, snuggling up to L. L still couldn’t believe that he had been making out with his long-term crush not even ten minutes ago.

He watched the ceiling until sleep finally came, and when sleep came, it was blissful.