#is trimming toe tufts a thing???

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I saw one critique of the TIME cover that Taylor doesn't groom Benji properly because his toe tufts were too long and I'm like... Yes that's the best part of cats? How do you think cats keep their toe beans warm??? Do you not play with the floof between your cats toes??? Their little floofy snowshoes????

[cobaltshifterstories]

The Morning After

Synopsis: Daniel wakes up after a one night stand he can’t remember and is charmed and controlled by the woman he wakes up to.

Disclaimer: All characters depicted are over 18 years of age. Do not read this or any other related erotic content if you are under the age of 18. This is a work of erotic fantasy and is entirely fictional. All situations depicted should not be replicated or attempted in real life without the knowing consent of all parties involved. Any similarity to real life individuals or scenarios are entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Tw: amnesia

                Daniel woke up to bright light shining through the windows and right into his eyes. He immediately had to blink and shift so the single shaft of light wasn’t blinding him. He looked around and quickly realized he wasn’t in his apartment. First of all, he didn’t have a window facing the bed in his bedroom. His bedroom’s walls were boring and beige, and adorned with posters, with his tiny desk in the corner. This room was oozing luxury and glamour, a large open window visible from the bed with white lace curtains adorning it. There were practical white curtains on the sides, but whoever’s room this one clearly had a sense of elegance to them, with light gold trimming and patterns running along them. There was a white and gold dresser along the other wall with a mirror on the top. It was lined with discrete but beautiful gold jewelry. The queen bed was large enough for 2 people as well, which was a luxury compared to his twin bed in his cramped bedroom. It had a tufted headboard, beautiful duvet sheets and soft silk pillows. It was extremely comfortable, no wonder he slept in past sunrise.

Then Daniel remembered: the party. He had gone to a birthday party the night before, cause he was a friend of a friend of a friend and just happened to get invited. He didn’t have much to do that night anyway, having the weekend off from his 2 jobs and university schooling. He remembers going there and arriving late, he remembers socializing a bit with who he knew, realizing most of them were drunk already. He couldn’t drink anything with alcohol due to a medical condition, so he remembered feeling bummed that he was going to be a bit left out. He tried to find a quiet part of the party to hang out till some of the birthday activities started and then… nothing. Daniel couldn’t remember anything past that point. He couldn’t have drank anything, that’s impossible, he literally would have died. Was his water cup spiked? He hoped not. But he didn’t seem to feel sick in any way, if anything he felt more relaxed than ever.

 He looked around for his phone but didn’t see it immediately around him. On either side of the bed was an elegant nightstand with white shade lamps resting upon them, the one to his right had a digital clock reading 11:39 AM. Definitely way later than he had ever slept in. He only had his loose boxers on, so clearly things had gotten more intimate with whoever he was with last night. He looked around the room and saw his shirt and jeans folded neatly onto a white cushioned chair in the corner opposite the door. The heard some kind of cooking happening outside the room. He tentatively pulled the sheets aside and got out of the bed. The floor was lined with an extremely well kept and soft carpet, which felt amazing to wiggle between his toes. He felt a little light headed as he stood, as if he hadn’t moved for days. He got his clothes on, which seemed to have been washed and taken great care of. Not finding his phone with them either, he tentatively exited the room.

He was greeted to an equally luxurious open concept living room and kitchen. The floor here was a light hardwood with porcelain tile dividing the kitchen from the spacious living room. There was a large white sectional sofa taking up most of the space, lined with comfy pillows and memory foam cushions. A sleek coffee table sat in the center in-front of a curved television sat upon a cabinet. To the left of the kitchen sat a beautiful dining room table with a vase of white roses in its center. In the kitchen there were white gloss cabinets framed perfectly along the wall. The countertops were made of white marble, with a few small plants and a bowl of fruit testing upon it. A subway tile backsplash lined the walls, with sleek stainless steel appliances and the bare minimum cutlery and cookware left out. It all looked so expensive and luxurious, Daniel began to wonder who the hell he ended up sleeping with last night. He couldn’t imagine someone with such high standards picking up a shabby guy like him. Speaking of which, he quickly saw the beautiful women cooking pancakes on the stove.

 Cooking at the countertop stove, turned away from Daniel was a short woman with luscious split brown and blond flowing hair that went down her back. She was in an oversized t-shirt, any bottoms or curves hidden beneath it. He didn’t want to startle her as she was cooking, so he carefully sneaked his way to the couch and sat down. Soon after he sat, she seemed to realize he had entered.

“Good morning Daniel, pancakes will be ready soon.” She announced, startling Daniel. Her voice was velvet and smooth, and she spoke loudly but still with an incredibly soft tone. He spun around and she was now turned around, smiling at him. She seemed young but still older than him, probably 24 or 25, with a grace and beauty that gave her skin such a youthful look. She had vibrant blue green eyes, and a warm welcoming smile. Her makeup was fresh and natural, enhancing her features without being overpowering. The oversized t-shirt hung off one shoulder, showing off her smooth pale skin and a simple gold necklace with an intricate gold pendant hung at the bottom, dipping below the collar. A clear pearl orb sat at the center of the pendant, with something at its center, but he could not tell from this distance.

Daniel was truly stunned by the angel in front of him. She was gorgeous, and way out of his league, which just enhanced his questions on how the hell he ended up in her place. It took him a moment to be broken out of his awestruck daze.

“Oh, uhhhhh, hi there,” He uttered, stupidly. He immediately felt like an idiot but only thing he could do is try to salvage any chance he had with this gorgeous woman. “I’m sorry, I must have had a bad night, I don’t remember anything. What’s your name?” She seemed to give a knowing laugh as he admitted to his pitiful situation.

“It’s alright, it was a bit intense. My name’s Sophie!” she gave him a sweet smile and turned back to finishing the pancakes as the stove began to beep at her. “Ah, there we are!” She scooped up the last pancake onto a plate of 3 beautiful pancakes.

“Syrup? Blueberries?” she asked, gesturing to the appropriate additives on the side. Daniel was a bit startled that this beautiful angel had prepared him his favorite breakfast, down to the syrup and side of blueberries.

“Yes, please ma’am”  he quickly answered, and quickly bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to call her ma’am, but it just seemed right for some reason given the circumstances. He had assumingly slept with her so I guess formalities were out of the question, but he was very afraid of being kicked out and having to do the walk of shame home, wherever the hell that was.

“Hehe, cute” she gave him a quick smirk as she added both the syrup and berries to his plate, and then her own plate which was set on the side. “Come sit, before the stack gets cold.”

He felt his body moving almost automatically, with an eagerness he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t a mad dash, but he seemed to move with haste, making it to the table before she did. He sat down at the table where his silverware had been set in place ahead of time. He put his hands in his lap, and awaited his plate. He got an even better look at her beauty up close, and could feel his jaw falling ever so slightly slack in awe. She set her plate across from him, and then his plate down in front of him, giving him a sweet smile as he looked up to her like an eager puppy.                 “Good boyyyy” she said, lightly tapping him in the center of his forehead as she did. Her praise sent a light pleasurable buzz through his body, but the poke sent a wave of that feeling through his body. His eyes rolled back, and he felt himself loosing focus. He then felt some memories of the night before return to him, as his vision went dark and he was enveloped in a flashback.

He had found an empty couch in a relatively quiet side room of the chaotic party. The loud of the main room could be vaguely heard, with occasionally cheering and chanting. “Going to this party was a mistake” he thought as he stared down at his phone, resting on 5%. He didn’t want to bail without giving some of his friends a ride home, but he definitely wasn’t looking forward to deal with his drunken friends throwing up and being unapologetically loud in his tiny car.

“Is this seat taken?” A sweet voice cut through the chaotic sound. Daniel looked up to see a gorgeous girl, with split blond and brown hair trailing down her shoulders. She was dressed in a simple black dress that went to her knees. She had a cool necklace with a golden pearl pendant at the center. 

“Seat’s empty” he said, patting it next to him while still looking up at her. As she sat  he realized his eyes were magnetized to her and had to shake his eyes to avoid staring. 

“SO, how do you know Richard?” She asked. She had such a cheery and peppy energy, it was hard to turn down a conversation despite his mood. Plus she was super pretty.

“I don’t really, just have some friends who invited me.” He said, “I was hoping this would be a little different. Loud drunken dance party isn’t really my scene. How about you?” 

“Oh I’m one of Rich’s former coworkers, and I definitely feel the same way.” She replied, turning all her focus onto him. “Being drunk almost never goes well, and guys are usually shitty dancers. Does the noises get to you? I know something that can help.”

Daniel was shocked by the level of concern and care this stranger was showing to him. His phone was on its last life, so he reckoned he was stuck in this conversation and turned to face her. 

“A little bit, but a tip would be really great.”

She seemed to have a nice smile to now having his full attention. 

“It’s all about clearing your mind and focusing on something else. You just breath in,” she closed her eyes and inhaled very deeply. Daniel tried averting his eyes from her chest, which had her cleavage pretty exposed with her lower cut dress. 

“And outttt” she let out a nice long exhale. Once she was done she opened here eyes vibrant. “Now you try” She said cheerily, looking to him eagerly. 

“Okayyy” he said, a bit hesitant. He couldn’t really say no with her right next to him. He inhaled deeply and shut his eyes. 

“Hold it for a few seconds,” she instructed, as her voice took on a much calmer, and supportive. “And let it out.” He exhaled, and did feel his mind clear a bit as he did. 

“Good! And again; In…” she continued to instruct him. He was going to do the one breath, but it did have a bit of merit so he continued. 

“There you go, hold it just like that… and out” With this exhale he felt even more of his mind clear, the thoughts about the party and music fading away. 

“Innnnn….” He breathed in even deeper than before, focusing on her elegant voice. “And outttt” he breathed out.

“Good boyyy, now sleep” and she tapped him on the center of his forehead, and his mind went blank.

Daniel returned to consciousness to see Sophie sitting across from him. She had a kinda mischievous smile as he was brought out of his blank state. She has started eating her stack, and was already through half her pancakes.

“Eat up cutie, it’s getting cold.”  Daniel felt himself grab his fork and begin to eat. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to, but once he was told to, he felt like he had to do it now that he was told to. He felt like he should be trying to leave, but he felt comfortable with Sophie, and was more curious as to what had happened the night before.

“Thanks for breakfast and everything,” He sheepishly avoided eye contact with the beautiful girl across from him. “Sorry I wasn’t up sooner, I just needed a lot of rest I guess.

“Oh its no problem. You were really tuckered out after last night so I took care of your clothes for you. Your phone was dead so its charging over on the counter, but you can stay as long as you need to till you’re fully rested.” Daniel was shocked by the hospitality, he surely thought she was just gonna kick him out after breakfast.

“Thanks, ” he was genuinely at loss. “Your place is really beautiful.” He was terrible at small talk and was just trying to keep things going in between bites. She had nearly finished and he was barely through his first pancake.

“Aww thanks! I put a lot of work into it making it just how I wanted. I believe it’s really important where you’re living to be happy.” She finished her plate and brought it to the sink. Daniel noticed she had some black lace panties under her shirt as she walked away. He only stared for a moment before returning to his plate. He wanted to get a better look but he felt like he didn’t have any other choice than to focus on his food before doing anything else. He could hear her move over to the couch and have a seat. Daniel began eating faster, but his mind still lingered. What happened last night? What brought him here? He still remembered meeting Sophie now, but anything beyond that was just… nothing. Even just trying to remember made his body go slack and he went blank.

Eventually he finished his plate and placed it in the sink. He saw Sophie chilling on the couch on her phone. He realized he could easily just grab his phone and go now, but he was intrigued by this girl. She had a sense of mysticism and carefreeness to her, and he was drawn to her. He wanted to know more, about her and the night before. He approached her on the couch and meant to sat next to her, but felt an urge to kneel before her on the floor, so he did so. She immediately took notice, a bit inquisitive but something seemed to click as he kneeled and was shocked by his own actions.

“Ahh, woops, guess that behavior is still going hehe. It’s alright darling, you can sit up here.” She patted the space next to her on the couch. He could feel the blush rushing to his cheeks. Why did he do that? He didn’t know. It felt good though; the same pleasurable feeling from earlier had begun to spread from his knees up through his body. Not too intense, but was a nice warm buzz. As he got up to move to the couch, that feeling faded, but was replaced with a warm pulse through his body as he sat on the couch next to Sophie.

“That’s a Good Boyyyy” she said as she booped him in the center of his forehead again. This time the pleasurable wave from before was stronger, and made his entire body relax and fall limp. His eyes shut as he slumped against the couch, and felt another memory of the previous night come back to him.

Daniel woke up on the couch of the party. His body had a warm fuzzy feeling from head to toe, as he stretched and woke up. The music of the party slowly began to come back, but the music itself had a much calmer energy than it had been before. It must have been atleast an hour lately. He began to shifted and realized that his head was propped up on the lap of the mystery girl. She was running her fingers through his short hair, greeting him with a smile.

“There you areeee, nice and slowly now.” She whispered down to him as she scratched his head. Daniel felt himself waking up and sitting up from her lap, and leaning on the other side of the couch.

“Hey, sorry, I just kinda passed out there. How long was I out?” His eyes were a bit droopy, but his mind felt clear and empty. He felt relaxed but was beginning to panic that he had just woken up in a random girls lap.

“Oh not that long, maybe 45 minutes. It’s alright, breathing exercises can make you fall asleep real quick if you’re tired and stressed out. I’ve dealt with this more times than I could count. Just take it slow cutie.” She was typing on her phone as her hand rubbed his thigh. Daniel was still in a bit of shock, but he didn’t protest. He had a warm fuzzy feeling from head to toe, which was very a welcome difference from the stressed and tense feeling he had at most moments. After about a minute, the mystery girl stood up.

“Okay, ready to go?” She turned to him cheerily. She had a simple car keychain in her hand, and offered the other to pull him off the couch.

“Where are we going?” Daniel asked, tentatively. He wasn’t one for one night stands, but this was hardly your standard flirt and hookup.

“I’ve decided I’m taking you back to my place silly. It’s clear that you aren’t fit for a loud party like this, so you can come back to my place and just relax till you’re ready to discuss more private stuff.” She twirled back and forth while waiting for him to grab her hand, letting the skirt of her dress lift and spin a bit. Daniel couldn’t believe his luck, not only did he have an excuse to bail on the party, but he was going with an incredibly cute and beautiful girl who for some reason wanted to take care of him. He grabbed her hand and mostly pulled himself up. When he stood at full height he had to look down ever so slightly to meet her gaze, but it felt like the opposite; like he was the one looking up to her in search of guidance.

“Good boy. Now, follow” she spun around and left the room. Daniel found himself closely following her, like he was bound to her by a leash. They left the empty side room and entered the main party room. They navigated through the crowd of dancers, mostly groups chatting while swaying with the music and occasionally singing along. His eyes were locked to his guiding angel as she weaved through the crowd with grace. Sometimes they would be slightly separated, but somehow he knew the quickest path to get through the crowds and back to her, and always caught up between 2 or 3 paces with her. Eventually they ended up outside the villa that the party was taking place, till they stopped next to an expensive looking silver sports car. The mystery girl clicked keyfob and the doors opened.

“Get in,” her voice was silvery smooth, and immediately the music in the background seemed to go completely silent, and all Daniel could hear was his own heartbeat, and her. He got in the passenger side and shut the door gently. The interior was filled with white leather seats, sleek paneling and golden highlights. His mystery mistress entered the car, and closed her door.

“See? That wasn’t so bad. Now, the drive is about 30 minutes so I’ll let you rest if you want, but up to you.” Daniel was a bit confused by her offer. He wanted to ask her so many question, but after a second of evaluating himself, he realized he felt a bit weak. The party atmosphere had done way more of a number on him than he thought. He realized that maybe now that he had some rest, his body wanted to go back to that.

“Uhh some more rest would be great yeah. But you can play some music or whatever I wont care.” He went to grab his phone to entertain himself and sadly found it dead.

“Oh don’t worry, you wont need that for the ride. I don’t have a charger in me but I have some at my place. Sweet dreams~” as he turned to say thanks, her finger again poked him in the center of his forehead, and he felt himself leaning back in the chair, going blank, and letting his whole body rest.

 Daniel awoke again, and found himself sitting in Sophie’s lap, just as he was in the memory from last night. He was layed out straight on the couch, which he hadn’t been before his memory trip, although he didn’t feel the need to change that. Some part of him was perfectly content just laying here, staring up at Sophie’s pretty face. But it was clear something was afoot, and somehow Sophie had gained complete control over him.

“So, it’s time I answer some questions.” Sophie said as she started to play with his hair. “You can ask away, just don’t panic or overthink anything.” Daniel didn’t know where to start.

“What did you do to me at the party? Did you drug me?” He was mostly afraid that at any moment his body was gonna have some kind of visceral reaction to whatever may have been in his system. After he learned he couldn’t drink alcohol, he stayed completely away from any drug.

“No no silly, I didn’t drug you. I just helped you relax.”

“and how did you do that to me?”

“It’s all with the power of suggestion. Once you’re told to do something, its easier to do it. It’s easier for some then others, but you were the quickest to fall I’ve come across, which means you’ve got a lot going on. And boy do you.” She looked down at him in her lap with a deep level of concern and care, taking a moment to place her hand on his shoulder in a way that let himself relax.

“Wait, how do you know I’ve got a lot going on?” Daniel was having more questions by the second, but one subject at a time.

“You told me. Well, I asked you, and then you told me.”

“How were you able to do that?”

She seemed a bit reluctant to answer, and took a pause before continuing. “It’s a long story. Basically my parents are rich and spoil me endlessly, and since I don’t need a job, I devote my time to being a free therapist to help whoever I find who may be in need of some mental support. I specialize in hypnosis. It allows me to go deep into people’s true thoughts and help them improve their lives.”

“I usually go to big events like the party to find people struggling and getting drunk to drown the pain. But then I found you in that quiet side room, dark and alone, and I could tell that you needed some help. So I started my process, and you fell super quick. Usually people need a few minutes to be relaxed enough for the trance to work, but you took 3 breaths…” She again, looked at him with a gaze that had knew what a tough time Daniel was having. “While you were under, asked you questions and had you answer truthfully. You told me about you taking double jobs struggling to get by, going to university with no idea why, your shitty friends, and just lonely you had been… I realized you needed my help more than anyone at that stupid party.” Daniel could see a slight tear forming in her eyes, which didn’t help with his own eyes beginning to water.

“Plus, out of anyone there, you were actually pretty cute. So I took you here, gave you a fun night to get forget all your troubles just for a night, and let you get as much rest as you needed.” Her hand spread from his shoulder to his neck as she began to do a bit of massages. He then saw a hickey resting just under his collarbone.

                “Sooo, we did fuck?” he bluntly asked. This made her laugh quite a bit

                “Hahaha, yes we did. Don’t worry, you were consenting. I just haven’t given you that memory back.” She said, while moving her hands to run down his chest. Even over his t-shirt, her fingers sent tingles along his body as he grew bit by bit more excited.

“’Given it back’? When will that happen?” He was still confused, but her being a hypnotist made him suspect that she had done something to his brain. He wasn’t against it, but he was just confused for now.

“That depends on you. I have a proposition for you.” She said, taking her hands away and getting more serious. “If you want to, you can decide to walk out of here right now, and I’ll let you have all your memories back. It wouldn’t cost you anything, and you won’t ever see me again. However, I asked you some other questions, and learned that you didn’t seem to mind this.” She looked down at him and gave him a smirk.  “Part of you, ‘finds being overpowered by a super cute girl super sexy’, your words not mine. That only read to a bit of a rabbit hole of what kinky stuff you’re into and I have a feeling we would go very well together.”

For the first time since he had been there, Daniel saw a bit of blush entering Sophie’s cheeks.

“So, only if you want, I want you to be my boyfriend. You can quit your jobs, you can move in here, you can live with me. I’ll take care of whatever you need, as long as you’re okay with letting me hypnotize you and play with you however I want.” She had become even more flustered and embarrassed now, her cheeks almost entirely blush. “We’ll still do normal couple stuff, but with my ‘clients’ I make it very clear I never want to be sexual with them. In fact, I have a specific suggestion I’m able to implant so that they avoid that train of thought entirely with me. You’re different though… Last night you were so willing, so cooperative, so gentle, and soooo good in bed,” He felt her thighs squeeze together at that bit,  “that I can’t resist giving how I feel a shot…”.

Daniel was stunned, he thought he was going to be in a kidnapped boytoy scenario, but it had done a complete 180. This miraculous girl had gone out of her way to offer him freedom in life, simply cause she learned how tough his life was. He never told anyone what he went through on a daily basis, what he did to get where he was, and how much he had sacrificed for other to keep them happy.

“So, Daniel, I will ask you this free of influence, will you be my boyfriend?” As she asked this, a hint of nervousness in her voice, she snapped her fingers above his head. Daniel felt the mental locks keeping his body in place immediately break. He felt his mind expand, and immediately a barrage thoughts ran through his mind. He shot up and sat upward on the couch, which startled Sophie a bit, but she seemed more eager for his response. Daniel turned to face her as the question returned to his mind, “Will you be my boyfriend?” His thoughts bounced around in his brain at a million miles an hour. But for every question he posed, the answer still seemed clear.

“Yes!” He declared, “Yes I would love to be your boyfriend!”  Sophie’s ecstatic smile returned to her face, and she reached her arms around him and gave him a big hug. Daniel returned the hug, and as the hug broke, she immediately began to give him quick kisses to his face over and over. Daniel was overjoyed by his luck of finding such a cute and sweet girl that seemed to like him just as much as he had immediately fancied her. As they were kissing, Sophie playfully pushed him down flat onto the couch, and positioned herself to now be sitting on his chest.

“Thank you Daniel, thank you so much!” She was vibrant with energy, and was shaking her hands, trying to hide her obvious excitement. She took a moment to calm herself, take a deep breath, and returned her focus back to him. Her confident, refined energy returned in an instant, and she immediately reminded him of her mental control over him.

“Now, I’m dying to have a bit of fun with you, so time to test some triggers.” She purred as she bent down above him. Daniels heart began to race, but not out of fear. It was out of excitement, knowing what would be coming next, while not knowing what his new hypnotist girlfriend was going to do to him. She tapped the center of his forehead, his body was overtaken with a warm pleasurable buzz, and he went deep into a blissful trance.

To be continued…

Thank you for reading my story! I wanted to take a more simple mind control story, and tried to dip into bits of amnesia. There may be a sequel to this story if requested, so let me know what you think! Or you can give direct feedback along with early access to more stories on my Patreon, any support is greatly appreciated!

[iblameashley]

A - to - Z's of Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Made a similar list for Konig a while back, figured it was time for Simon / Ghost. This list is hella gay, FYI.

!!!!NSFW!!!!

A - Aftercare

Simon / Ghost cares a great deal about aftercare regardless if its a one-night stand or a longer term relationship. It will always start with asking how you're doing and what you liked and what you didn't. He'll make sure you're actually okay before he'll ask if you need anything else; water, food or a shower. Though he still struggles with requests for cuddles. Its very intimate for him, but if he likes you, he'll give you a bone crushing cuddle.

B - Body part (their favourite)

Stomach. Simon / Ghost likes guys with a bit of belly fat, something soft and preferably hairy. It's so different from his toned body, and though he'd never admit it to you, it makes him feel happy and calm just laying on it.

C - Cum (anything)

Generally speaking his cum is rather neutral in taste, a hint of salt. But its thick and hot, and he shoots long ropes of it when he cums. Refuses to jerk off while on long missions because he wants to 'save it all' for you.

You don't have to worry about overstimulating him either, he'll do it happily himself until he empties his balls inside you. You'll feel his cock head throbbing inside you as he whimpers and trembles on top of you.

D - Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Really wants to eat your ass out after he's cum in it, but is afraid you'll be disgusted by it and refuse.

E - Experience (how experienced are they?)

On a scale of Virgin Pure – Barracks Bunny? He's a solid 'Took the bloke from the pub home'. He's not adverse to having sex; in fact, he loves it... its the intimacy that people tend to want that freaks him out. Simon / Ghost doesn't know how to reciprocate (or so he tells himself). But he's more than happy to get his rocks off if he fancies a man.

F - Favourite position

Generally speaking, as long as he's on top, he's happy. He loves looking down at your handsome face or even the back of your head as he takes you. That being said, Simon / Ghost is also a big fan of you on your knees. The way you look up at him with his cock in your mouth? Fuck... drives him wild.

G - Goofy (Serious of Humorous)

During sex, this man is on a mission. You are both going to have a good time, even if it kills him. BUT, after sex? After you're thoroughly pleased and unable to walk? This man will treat you to the worst jokes in his shitty-joke roster and there is nothing you can do to escape it.

H - Hair (Body / Groomed / Color)

Dirty-bond / Sandy hair in tufts between his pectorals that runs down his abdomen and into this pants. Keeps his pubes trimmed (but never shaved!) Its incredibly soft, too because Simon / Ghost takes care of his hair.

His ass has a nice dusting that trails down into surprisingly hairy legs. Oddly though, has almost no arm-hair at all.

I - Intimacy

He would tell you he'd rather be waterboarded or have his fingers and toes broken with a hammer than be intimate, but he's a Goddamn liar. He doesn't recognize his own intimate moments, thinking that the things he does for you 'just makes sense', but are actually very sweet deep down. But he does struggle with accepting intimacy. He'll tense at hug, pull away for kisses – you've learned to not be insulted – and tries not to let his heart skip a beat when he looks you in the eyes as he's buried deep inside you.

But at the end of the day, even if he fails – real or imagined – at intimacy, he'll never hurt you. He is very aware of your emotional well-being and he'd be damned to ever raise a hand to you.

J - Jack off

Used to mostly just be a form of release between missions and hook-ups. A means to an end, so to speak. But once he met you? Fuck... the way you looked at him, the way you looked at him when you walked in on him jerking off.

He loves to stroke his cock for you. He'll take it nice and slow, building himself up to an orgasm and then denying himself until you give him permission to release – usually on your face – and he's never been more satisfied with masturbation. Its so much better than his two-minute, violently jerking off somewhere on base experiences.

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loves size difference most of all. He'll be your big-strong man if you'll be his charming short king. There is something about the power dynamic that just gets him going. But again, he'd never use his size or strength to hurt you; he wants to feel like all his power is doing something other than killing... and what better way than to pleasure a charming man sexually?

As previously mentioned, chubby guys too. Loves a squishy body to touch and massage. Loves the soft flesh against the marred skin of his body (how do you not pull away from him?!).

Simon / Ghost longs to let go of his need for control and be dominated by a man; but trust is hard earned and he only reserves bottoming for that special-someone.

Has tried a variety of toys and only has a few select he actually likes. pocket masturbators are great compared to his calloused hands, and he's enjoyed a few butt plugs and dildo's, but he's not be able to venture too far with his exploration; there's still a little bit of shame and embarrassment he feels when he uses them (you'll make him get over it...).

L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

Simon / Ghost is a private man in general, so it would always have to be somewhere he felt safe. This would likely be his flat, your flat, his quarters on base or maybe even his office – locked, of course – if he was feeling a bit more adventurous.

As long as you're in the safety and comfort of a flat, though, any and all surfaces are acceptable. Tables, sofa's, counters, the bed or the shower are all perfect places to drive himself into your prostate and make you writhe for him.

M - Motivation (turn on’s)

Simon / Ghost loves it when you reach under his shirt and just gently play with the small of his back. Instant way to get this man in the mood, followed closely by teasing him by slipping fingers under the waist of his pants.

Can't go wrong with a classic, either; give his thighs some attention. Caress and tease slowly up towards his groin and you'll have this man growling like an animal.

Just seeing you being you. Walk around the flat in your lounging clothes, or his hoodie, or even shirtless. Simon / Ghost just enjoys seeing you in your most relaxed state around him since most people aren't.

N - No (wouldn’t do; turn offs)

Wouldn't hurt you. That should go without saying, but its still a deeply rooted fear that he projects onto you. He's a killer after all, so you must be waiting for the day he looses it on you. He won't. Not ever. Not you... not the one man who looks at him like that.

As for things he won't do in bed or let you do? Handcuffs are a no-go. Ever. Same with blindfolding.

Simon / Ghost also don't enjoy hickies, burns, scars or love marks, but that's due to his feelings regarding his scars and burns. Absolutely no choking either, but that also goes along with not hurting you, though he's not a fan of being choked either.

No scat, blood, diaper play, baby talk, age-gaps or age role-play.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Simon / Ghost already has a difficult time trying to sub for his lovers, so like hell he's going to deny himself -and you- the pleasure of sucking a man off. He can get lost in the moment as he swallows your cock whole, swirling his tongue around and playing with your foreskin. He will moan and groan over your length and swallow every last drop of your cum.

As for his skill? He's better at killing people for sure, but he'll make sure you get off.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally speaking, Simon / Ghost would prefer a slower, steadier pace. He wanted to enjoy every last moment of pleasure you're both experiencing. He doesn't take leave often and he doesn't have much time between missions as it is, so he leeches every second of pleasure from every encounter.

He sometimes gets a little too into the pleasure though and will go a bit feral. A need to just pound into you deep and hard until you're both a puddle of sweat and semen stuck to each other.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Depends on how you define a quickie. Simon / Ghost isn't one to just blow a load into you in five minutes and run, but if he's on a time constraint... sure. He usually saves quickies for jerking off.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Simon / Ghost already takes enough risk in his military life, so doesn't take nearly as many in his personal life. As long as your risky suggestions don't include high risk of infections or illness, or harm (obviously), he's open to considering them.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You'll likely get the best hour of your life out of Simon / Ghost. He'll set a pace and stick to it... If he decides to overstimulate himself in the process, you can get another thirty to forty-five minutes out of him.

T - Toys (Own toys? Use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A few dildo and butt plugs, nothing too fancy or large and owns a few different pocket masturbators.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not a teaser, not overly vocal in general. Will grunt and groan, whine a bit when overstimulated, but doesn't really talk outside of a check in. You're safe until he's spent and the bad jokes start.

V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Simon / Ghost will grunt rather loudly once he gets into it.

W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would never hurt you or do anything to make you uncomfortable, but loves it when a man beats him off and abuses his foreskin. Beat the man off hard and fast and be ready to take his load when you push him over the edge.

X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6' 4” Tall

Mildly hairy

Bulky

Curved cock

6.5” Hard and foreskin pulls all the way back over his head

Keeps everything tidy down there

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before a mission? Low

During a mission? Low

After a mission? High. So very high... he'll find a nice lad to sate him the day he returns home.

Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Simon /Ghost rarely sleeps more than three hours a night on the best of days, to say nothing of the nightmares he has regularly. So even after a long night of fucking and sucking, he's still not likely to fall asleep very quickly; if at all.

Assuming he likes you long enough to stay the night, he'll only fall asleep after you have, and he'll be awake long before you as well. He'll probably be gone too, if you aren't dating... but don't worry, he'll leave a note.

[knackfandomarchive]

Long-haired Lucas

Narrative prose, I guess. Feels like sorta aimless garbage I found vaguely amusing and wanted to practice writing.

Knack liked his appearance and didn't usually think to change it much, letting the pieces fall into place naturally. But rarely, one could catch him with unusual protrusions... And once, he had a much more involved makeover. Rather than any contented preening or scientific humming and thinking, however, Knack had gone around unnerving the locals, using a silly voice and mumbling about watching his sugar intake, complaining of having to pay taxes, and pretending to painfully stub his toes on things.

He had even asked to borrow a stool to reach something, because his arms were just *so* short. Despite the fact that he would usually use a stool or step-ladder anyways, when he felt like being small and he was too lazy to go to a designated shifting spot to get bigger. Lucas had screeched with laughter, but Doctor Vargas didn't seem quite as amused.

Today, Knack opted to play with something more reasonable and good-looking. He was hanging out at around 4’ 10”, but sported a very big lizard-like tail, complete with a gold-and-red thagomizer and possibly some red relic tufts trailing the spine of it. It was about 4 feet long, a little shorter than one of his arms. That way, he could watch his reach and be less dangerous about swinging it around.

Lucas hadn't gone to the barber's much, just trimming his bangs on occasion, for about two years now. He would try to keep up some spikiness with a little of the Doctor’s hair gel, but it always cascaded down to the middle of his back, at least. He would have to tie it up when working near any sort of equipment. And sometimes, when they would go to new places and Lucas’s hair was spread over his shoulders just so, and he had forgotten to style it, a stranger would address him from behind as ‘miss’, and then correct themself with an apology when he turned around.

Why would Lucas wear his hair like that? Like Knack's little experiments, it would get in the way of things. But it wasn't very temporary to have it so long naturally, and sometimes it confused people so they thought he was someone else. It didn't seem like Lucas was playing a prank, either.

Today, Knack found Lucas with a book in his hand, sitting on a ledge overlooking the pond, which was probably a bad idea given the state of disrepair it was in. Rather than climb up and risk it, Knack called Lucas down to the well-trodden area, where the pond was guarded by at least temporary railing. Lucas leaned his backside against the “big steps” with the flower crates decorating them.

Knack asked Lucas, “Your hair's getting really long. Do you plan on cutting it soon?”

Lucas gave a self-satisfied smile and shook his head, tossing his hair with the motion. “Nope! Androgynous hairstyles are pretty popular these days!”

Knack was in a good mood today, and his ears perked up curiously. “What's that mean?”

Lucas swept his hair behind his head and fixed the spikes. “Androgynous?”

Knack barely had to nod before Lucas launched his explanation.

“It means something along the lines of ‘gender ambiguous’. Lucas looked up in thought, then framed his chin with a hand. “Guess it would be better pronounced as andro-gyne-us instead of an-draw-jin-iss, since it combines the root words ‘Andro’ and ‘gyne’.”

“What do robots have to do with it?” Knack leaned forward with his eyebrows up. He didn't fall over because he used his tail as a counter balance.

Lucas squinted with his mouth open. “Uhh…” But he couldn't piece Knack's meaning together. “What?”

“Andro, like android?” Knack didn't mean to sound like he was explaining something obvious, but to him it kinda was.

“Ohhh!” Lucas snapped his fingers. “Actually no. ‘Andro’ means ‘man’. The suffix ‘-oid’ means ‘shaped’. So, say, a cuboid is something cube-shaped, and an android is man-shaped.”

Knack was suddenly wearing reading glasses taped to his head and scribbling in a notepad. “Fascinating… got it.”

“Cool.” Lucas smiled warmly. “Any more questions?”

“What about, gynoid?” Knack was pretty confident rearranging parts of words.

“That means woman-shaped.”

Knack nodded. “A woman robot.”

“Yeah.”

[eldritch-spouse]

This isn’t a sexual thing and is just out of genuine curiosity but… what do Belo’s feet look like? Do they have claws on the end like berg or sybastian’s? Are they like human feet? Maybe he has no toes and it’s like someone’s just wearing a hairy sock

[If it was a sexual thing, I wouldn't judge you anon, it's harmless.]

Belo's feet can be seen in his intro post. He has a plantigrade, humanoid structure. Both his hands and feet tend to grow claws, but Belo trims them as they're not his main method of combat. The most striking thing about his feet are the little feather tufts near the ankles.

[neptunusscribit]

"Please, I want to fuck you," he finally confessed. I had him flustered, pinned to a wall, and it took him all of thirty seconds to break down like that. Of course I wouldn't let him get off that easily, but it was nice to know. I removed my leg from between his thighs and leaned back slightly, looking him in the eyes. "Say it again," I commanded.

His resolve waivered. "P- please can I fuck you?"

I shook my head in mock confusion. "Now that's not what you said originally."

He swallowed a whimper and took a second to build up some courage. Firmer this time, he spoke: "I want to fuck you. I want to fuck your brains out, and I want to cum inside of you."

A little corny, but we could work with that. I grinned and let his hands go from where I had been holding them, above his head. He was a bit taller and stronger than I was so I know he had been letting me pin him. I let him wrap his arms around me as he pulled me in for a kiss, and he showed off that strength enough that I almost considered letting him take me there like he had asked.

One hand behind my head, another on the small of my back (quickly reaching lower), he made his desire known through every motion. He kissed me deeply, and after some time his tongue parted my lips. I let him have his fun, let him feel in control, until I pulled away to focus my attention down his chin, his neck. I pulled his shirt off to work my way down his chest, leaving a kiss every inch. I knelt, teasing along his waistband. I felt his fingers tangle in my hair and grinned, knowing what he expected.

I quickly undid the button, then the zipper to his tight pants. Soon I revealed what I was after. I had him take them the rest of the way off, and from the way he stood I know he would have done anything for me then. I took his cock in my hands, hard already, and gave it a few tentative strokes. I kissed my way up the length, lingering on the head, and watched it twitch. I felt his grip on my head flex with every contact, and his breath grew deeper as I progressed.

After a few moments I stopped, leaning back, and performed a more thorough inspection. I pulled it to one side, the the other, stretching the skin here and there. I lifted it up and grinned when it twitched. When he finally looked down, confused, I responded with an overdramatic sigh. "This isn't going to work. You're just too hairy." He wasn't actually, but it was the best I could do on short notice. A pause, then I acted like I had suddenly come up with an idea. "Oh, I know! Come with me." Dumbfounded, he followed me into my bathroom. I thought about pulling him along by his dick, but I figured that would be too forward. I wanted to give him the feeling that he was still in charge, for now.

During the whole process, I acted like it would only take a second, a momentary interruption in an otherwise-routine hookup. I had him stand, fully nude, as I sat on a stool and inspected him, manicure scissors in hand. He looked at me awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands. Eventually he held them behind his back, but I couldn't help noticing he stayed extremely hard during the process. I trimmed the hair back from around his shaft, taking each tuft and cutting it about a quarter-inch away from the skin. I trimmed down around his balls, giving them firm tugs to keep the skin taut. He especially perked up at that, but continued to trust me through the process without a word. For my part, I made little satisfied noises every time I cleared an area, or sat back to admire my handiwork. Though I took my time, eventually I finished. And I must say, I did a damn fine job.

"And now for the shower!" I clapped, which must have cought him even more off-guard.

"The... shower?"

"Of course. Otherwise that hair will get all over the place!" I made a face that was partly conciliatory, partly a dare to question me. He decided not to. I turned on the shower and swept up the floor, leaving him to stand there uncomfortably. That would put him in the right mindset. I took off my clothes, and it must have taken him a second to realize that I was getting in there with him. He seemed to like that idea, and also the fact that I was stripping in front of him. I tried not to be too sexy about it, it wasn't for his pleasure after all, but a little teasing could always be had.

After the water was warm, I lead him into the shower and positioned him under the stream. It was gentle, flowing through his hair and leaving rivulets down his chest. He looked at me, and I leaned in to kiss him. Both naked, our wet bodies pressed together, his breath mingled with mine in a long kiss. Eventually I leaned back, smiling, and lathered up my hands with a cotton-scented body wash. I started at his neck, running suds over his collarbone, and slowly worked my way down each arm. I coated his wrists, palms, and between his fingers before the water rushed it all away. I got more soap for his chest, and turned him around to get his back as well. He pressed his hands against the side off the shower as I knelt to wash his legs, consciously skipping the part we had come in here to clean. I worked my way up and down each leg, from his toes to his upper thigh, before finally wrapping my hands around his cock. It had started to droop, but the slick soap on my hands quickly rectified that. I had him worked up again in no time, breathing heavy with the occasional moan. I had him rinse off before I pushed him against the shower wall and took him into my mouth for a long moment, eliciting a long, deep moan.

I grinned and stood up, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel. He was still struck from the pleasure and let me towel him off, bit by bit. When I felt done I stood up straight, cocked my head and looked at him, asking "didn't you want to fuck me, baby?" He nodded weakly, but I could tell the pampering had done its job. This time I did take him by the cock, leading him out into the bedroom, where I pushed him onto the bed. "Well then I'd better hear you start begging."

He made a whimpering noise, trying to find the words as I held his arms down above his head. Funny how we kept coming back to that pose, despite his strength. I guess he just needed to beg a little harder.

"Please let me fuck you. Please, baby. I need it so bad. Please, please, please..."

I looked back at him, unimpressed. I leaned back, straddled over his dick, and began to touch myself with my free hand. "Is this what you want, baby?" I spread my lips and held them directly above his dick, tantalizingly close. "This right here? If you want to fuck my pussy, all you have to do is show me how badly you want it."

He whimpered again, trying to find the words, but I saved him the trouble. I slid my body up and placed my thighs on either side of his head, lowering myself down on his mouth. He took to it eagerly, knowing exactly what I meant. His tongue lapped at my clit eagerly, and I adjusted the pressure by grinding against his face. I released his hands, holding them against my hips for stability. "Oh, that's such a good pet, so eager, so ready. You must want to fuck me so bad, baby. Look at how wet you are. You're humping the air while I hump your face. Absolutely adorable." My breath hitched a few times as I continued the teasing praise, when he hit a spot particularly well or when my own shivers started. Eventually I was close, and I gripped his hair for even more leverage as I felt him speed up. Soon enough my whole body quaked, my thighs tightened around his head and my hips stopped rocking. I rode out wave after wave of pleasure on his face, murmuring the occasional moan or "good boy."

When I was good and satisfied, I released him from between my legs. I laid beside him, running my fingers down his chest. I even traced a few lines up and down his cock before looking back up to his needy face.

"Please," he whispered, and I pretended not to hear. I simply ran a finger over his nipple, mindlessly toying with him.

"Please, I want to fuck you," he said louder. I looked up to his face and considered.

"You're sure you can be a good boy about it?"

"Yes, I'll do anything." Anything is a dangerous thing, but unfortunately I didn't have the wherewithal to test those limits right now. While riding his face had been nice, I truly did need him inside of me.

I grinned. "Well then what are you waiting for? Get on over here and fuck me."

He seemed hesitant, unsure if it was a trick, but he got up and moved between my legs anyways.

I prodded slightly. "What is it, baby? Didn't you want my pussy? Didn't you want to grab me and take me? What was it- to fuck my brains out?"

Emboldened, he pulled my legs up and slid himself towards my entrance.

I pushed even further. "Oh, won't you be a good boy and fuck me? Don't you just want to grab my hips and go wild? Don't you just want to use my body like a toy? Be a good boy and-"

That was all it took, before he was inside of me. And truly, it had been an excellent decision to rile him up. He pushed my knees to my chest, opening me up for him, and slid deep inside on the first thrust. I was more than wet enough, which was good because he had no intention of stopping. After he settled into a rhythm, I began to prod again. "Aren't you such, such a good boy, fucking me so deep, don't you just want to grab my hair, oh thank you baby, such an obedient boy, oh can't you kiss me, mmm, good little pet, don't you just want to flip me over and spank me, don't you want to push my face into the bed while you pound me from behind, isn't that what you want?"

And sure enough, he did. I felt a hand flip me over so I was on all fours, his dick back inside me with only a moment's pause. I could only tease him for a moment after that, as my face was surrounded by pillows, so I took the opportunity to reward him with moans and whimpers, one for each thrust. I felt him place a firm handprint on my ass before using it as a grip for his frantic thrusts. I felt him pound me deeper and deeper into the bed until I was nearly prone. I felt him grunt, his legs clench, before pulling my body deep over his cock one last time. I felt him spill out inside of me, and I felt his relief as he did do. I turned my head to the side for the praise: "Such a good boy, such an obedient little thing. So happy to fuck me exactly the way I want, so needy to give me what I desire. Such a good thing." I felt him continue to twitch inside of me, the praise not going unanswered.

He held me like that until he had his fill, before we curled up and I continued my praises with him in my embrace. "Such a pretty thing, lost in the heat of fucking me, weren't you so cute. Of course we'll have to do it again, if only you continue to prove so obedient. You were so adorable, maybe we should get you a leash, then you can follow my instructions exactly, oh yes wouldn't that be nice..."

[pleasantanathema]

Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk​ 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer! 

           There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

           The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

           You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

           He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

           So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

           And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

           “So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

           “Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

           “Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

           “Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

           You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

           “Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

           “Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

           “Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

           Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

           But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

           You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

           Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

           Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

           “Have you guys opened presents yet?”

           You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

           “No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

           Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

           “I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

           “Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

           “I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

           Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

           “Is that…?”

           “Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

           The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

           You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

           “I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

           You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

           You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

           “Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

           “Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

           “Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

           The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

           You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

           “Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

          You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

           “I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

           “No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

           Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

           He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

           “What are you gonna name her?”

           He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

           “I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

           “Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

           “Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

           “She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

           “I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

           You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

           There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

           You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

           But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

           Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

           You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

      ��    And you still felt like you were missing something.

           Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

           But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

           Jean: You awake?

           Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

           You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

           Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

           You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

           Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

           Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

           Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

           Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

           You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

           You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

           You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

           If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

           But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

           You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

           You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

           Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

           You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

           The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

           “Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

           “Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

           His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

           “I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

           “You’re not wearing pants.”

           “I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

           You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

           He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

           His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

           “Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

           You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

           “This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

           You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

           “Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

           A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

           You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

           You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

           “You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

           “Y-yes, feels so good.”

           His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

           You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

           Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

           Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

           “Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

           “You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

           Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

           “Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

           You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

          You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

          His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

          “Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

          “Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

          Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

          It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

          “Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

          There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

          Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

          You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

          It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

          “D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

          But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

          Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

          “Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

          “Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

          He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

          “Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

          “I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

          “I’m full of surprises, baby.”

          You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

          With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

          “Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

          “God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

          It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

          All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

          “So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

          “I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

          “Oh fuck. Good girl.”

          His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

          He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

          “Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

          “Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

          Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

          Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

          “So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

          You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

          Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

          “Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

          You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

          His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

          Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

          “Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

          Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

          The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

          “I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

          God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

          Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

          You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

          When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

          “Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

          His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

          “Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

          “Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

          He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

          “Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

          You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

          You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

          “What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

          “It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

          Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

          “I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

          “You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

          “I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

          You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

          “Yeah, I’d like that.”

          No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.

[aroaessidhe]

link & full entry in pinned post!

Marynka

wild tangle of her red-brown hair, freckles that dotted a band across her nose

small scythe she held, her fraying skirt and dusty apron, (at 10)

felt her teeth start to sharpen. The tips of her fingers burned red-hot.

Marynka’s veins burned red-orange as magic simmered in her blood

short

She made a brief attempt to tame her hair, but seconds later gave up, weaving her curls into a fat, messy plait instead, and shoved it under a fur cap tufted with a feather

Her own kontusik was crimson red and trimmed with fiery fox fur. Its sleeves were slit open from armhole to wrist and trailed behind her when she walked. Her underdress was also red, and her boots—which had once belonged to a prince who had ridden into the Midday Forest and never came back out—were the color of freshly spilled blood.

Her hair was a wild tangle, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. The heavy sleigh robe they’d dragged inside, a white wolf-skin, was heaped loosely over her shoulders.

wild curls that changed from brown to fiery red depending on the sunlight. The sun-bronzed skin, the hint of gold in her hazel eyes, the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose

A great furry, hooded black cloak swept the length of her body, falling to her ankles. Beneath it she wore a man’s dusky kontusz with a wide, ornate crimson waist sash and crimson boots to the knees, the toes of which were pinched sharp as knifepoints. Her high collar was buttoned with rubies. The cut of the robes made her look incredible and, most importantly, tall. A mask on a stick completed the outfit. A monstrous thing to cover her face. Wicked horns curled back from its temples. Its gaping mouth was full of glittery teeth. She was an elegant version of a turoń. A festive Karnawał devil. -running a finger over her mask’s gruesomely sharp teeth.

Moonlight illuminated Marynka’s face. Her wicked smile. Her hazel eyes.  Her teeth were too sharp. Her hazel eyes too bright a gold. But her edges burned. Her wild curls, her skin lit with an unearthly fiery glow. The hem of her shaggy black cloak dragged on the ground, picking up a lacework of snow and frost. A flash and a blade appeared in Marynka’s hands, a small scythe, the kind used for cutting grain. She ran the pad of a finger along the curve of the weapon.

Her eyes faded from incandescent gold to a human shade of hazel.

she was dressed in boys’ clothing in a coral-orange kontusz over a gold zupan and loose trousers tucked into her favorite red leather boots. Her long hair was hidden beneath a fur cap decorated with a peacock feather. She liked to think that she could pass for a hetman’s nephew.

can’t grow full claws like Zosia

Beata

No bruises ever marred her creamy skin,

White Jaga had even given Beata a gift to celebrate her name day: a necklace of glossy amber beads.

so unfairly pretty that even Marynka was almost afraid to touch her, let alone cause her hurt. Her violet eyes were bewitching as a spring day’s dawn, her hair as gold as linden honey. The sweetest dimples appeared in her fat, rosy cheeks when she smiled. There was the cutest gap between her two front teeth.

waist-length braids

slipped her arms into the sleeves of her kontusik at the same time. Since the war, Lechija’s people had discovered a newfound love for their national dress. The silver-threaded outer robe shimmered bright as snow and was trimmed with pale ermine. As always, the servant of Morning was a vision in white

She was bedecked from head to toe in white, in a western-style dress embroidered with crystals that dazzled like stars across the bodice and down the length of the flowing skirt. An exquisite wreath of starry flowers, gold straw, and ribbons haloed her fair head. Her face was hidden behind a twinkling gossamer veil. “If you’re going as an angel, I don’t see why I can’t go as a devil.” “I’m not an angel! I’m a star maiden.” Beata held up a glowing paper star on a stick.

sapphire-studded fur cap

Beata didn’t even need to transform or use her dainty white claws half the time. Her starry violet eyes bewitched with a glance.

Her hair was so long now that it dragged on the floor when she sat at the dressing table.

Beata was dressed in boys’ clothing like Marynka

white kontusik, high collar

her fingers tapering to long, luminescent white claws. Her skeleton seemed to glow through her skin. Morning was a chillingly beautiful creature. A vision bright as the rising sun. She shimmered like a shaft of light. It hurt to look at her. Her smile of gleaming, needlelike teeth was sharp as a knife abruptly unsheathed

Dressed in a spotless white kontusik and saffron underdress, her golden braids woven into a halo that circled her head

Beata’s claws left luminous streaks in the air as they cut through skin and flesh. Together they were a blur of light and dark.

Zosia

tall

Her skirt and kontusik were so deep a blue they verged on black. But the first thing Marynka noticed was her hair. Her long braid was the icy color of starlight.

She was too pale for one thing—her skin looked like it never saw the sun—and her features were too sharp.

The hard jaw and sharply pointed chin. The deep-set eyes.

Up close her eyes were dark, black as the night sky with only the faintest suggestion of blue. Her lashes were the same icy silver as her braid.

A ribbon of icy shadow twined lovingly around her wrist, forming the briefest bracelet-like coil.

Maybe it was her height, or her stiffness, or her face, which was usually solemn or frowning.

flashes of skull-hollow eyes and a mouth full of dagger teeth, the flick and gleam of a pale braid vanishing into the dark.

below the shadow of her wide-brimmed hat. She was dressed as a cloud shepherd, as one of the nature spirits that haunted Lechija’s mountains. The mercurial creatures carried cold in their rough-hewn sacks and controlled the weather, towing clouds back and forth across the sky by lengths of rope. Zosia was carrying a painted storm cloud on a stick and wore a sheepskin coat and a long, fake silver beard. She looked ridiculous.

Darkness spread from the tips of Zosia’s pale fingers, up her hands and wrists and forearms as if shadow was painting her a pair of gloves. It spread like lacework up her neck. The veins at her temples blackened. Her senses sharpened and so did her teeth. Everything looked brighter, crisper. Her fingers tapered to long, lethal black claws. Her eyes were fully dark, two hollows like the empty sockets of a skull.

the veins on the underside of her wrists turned an inky black that coiled up her arms.

She knew how Midnight liked to bite the fingertips of her gloves with her sharp teeth to pull them off, revealing long slender fingers and sharp knuckles and the cold blue veins at her wrists that you could see when her sleeves rode up.

Biting the fingertip of a leather glove, Zosia stripped the fabric from her hands, drawing the nearest shadows to her with the curving of her bare fingers, beckoning them close. They condensed, swirling in her palm to form a dagger, the blade icy and gleaming as black glass. / The veins at her wrists darkened from blue to black, shadows climbed her skin. Her fingers tapered to long, lethal claws.

When Zosia reached for the shadows in the corners of the room, they came alive, drawing themselves up into monstrous, nightmarish shapes. Grotesque faces swelled out of the darkness, their mouths yawning open in silent, agonized screams, their clawed tendrils reaching to wrap around the terrified man’s legs and arms and neck.

Józef

a young man of bear-like physique—tall and barrel-chested—smiling down at her. Broad shoulders stretched the seams of a kontusz in glorious forest green, the silk fabric embroidered with gold and silver thread to make a pattern like scales. He wore the snout of a dragon as a kind of hat. Its upper jaw and fierce fangs shadowed the upper half of his face. He lifted the dragon’s snout to wipe away sweat at his temples. Marynka caught a glimpse of raven-black hair and warm brown eyes, flushed cheeks.

dressed as magnificently as ever, in a sapphire-blue kontusz and a contrasting underrobe of pale silver. His fur cap was studded with a giant ruby and his saber rested at his side.

broad shoulders and solid build

stubbled jaw

His black hair curled against his high collar

Kajetan

disguised as a priest. Dressed in a midnight-black cassock with a rosary of amber wound round his wrist. He looked like he’d climbed out of the frame of a gilded icon. His features might’ve belonged to a saint: the lush mouth, the elegantly hooked nose and soulful green eyes, the ridiculously long lashes. He was tall and slender with brown hair that flashed gold in the candle glow, and there was a porcelain-like delicacy to him

square angle of his jaw, the tousle of brown hair falling over their brow, brushing the edges of an ice mask nearly as elaborate as the prince’s

His fur cap was plumed with costly peacock feathers, studded with a giant ruby, and drawn low over his brows to shadow his saintly features. The thick collar of his coat ate up his slender neck.

Stubble shadowed the sharp angle of his jaw, but he looked younger in the soft morning light. Not so many more years older than her. (he is 20)

His brown hair was touched with gold in the flickering light. It made Marynka think he’d been as blond as Beata as a child.

His clothes were rumpled and his movements stiff, a gift from sleeping on the cold, unforgiving floor. He shivered as he retied the wide, ornately embroidered sash wound several times around his slim waist. Marynka hadn’t paid much attention before, but really his clothes were very fine. His fur-lined kontusz was a rich red heavily embellished with patterns of silver thread, and the contrasting żupan he wore beneath it was a brilliant silken gold. Pearl buttons drew a glittery line up his torso to his chin. It was a pity he was so much taller than her.

----

a few more characters and details in database entry.

[donutloverxo]

Call it what you want (3/7)

Cowritten with lizzygal

Summary - Picking up three months after you and Steve met on your fateful date, courtesy of a SugarDaddy website, things are progressing. Life continues to move along.

Steve is continuing to adjust to life as a private citizen, doing his work and building a life with you.

You're adjusting to life with Steve, searching for that safe place for the special kids under your care and moving on post-Blip with Steve at your side.

New challenges arise as the two of you discover the depths of your shared passion, what you'll do for the other and exactly how well you and your Daddy are matched for one another.

Warnings - 18+ only, explicit sexual content, sugar daddy/baby relationship, spanking, power imbalance, age gap.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Wildest dreams masterlist

Read on AO3

A sneak peak...

Friday Afternoon…

You were starting to have…reservations.

You weren’t sure if you were going to be going that night. You could say that you weren’t feeling good. Or maybe you could say you wanted to keep an eye on Sparky, who was doing really well on her antibiotics and judging from the amount of happy fires she was setting, was feeling considerably better. Or hell, maybe you’d luck out and Kurt would get stuck in the wall again?

According to Steve, it wasn’t even that big of a thing.

A fundraiser for a local charity that helped people get back on their feet post-Blip. It was literally being held at the local community center and Steve was the guest speaker. You didn’t have to get dressed up.

Hell, Steve even said you could bring Marie if you wanted. It was potluck. Marie had been cooking since yesterday downright gleefully. There was a silent auction and even some sort of a talent show planned for the night.

Yelena had refused to go. Declaring she’d babysit. She needed assistance and little fingers. Mutterings had come from her about a concern about facial recognition software. So, Yelena was a hard no.

With every step you took up the stairs on Steve’s side of his brownstone, you further convinced yourself that you couldn’t go.

You simply could not do it.

Maybe another time.

You and Steve had all the time in the world. What was the rush? You two didn’t have to share everything, you had yourself convinced.

Ok, so maybe, you’d been reading comment sections on the internet? That wasn’t a crime. Heck, you were in the pictures that had been heavily scrutinized online from the day you both took Sparky to see Bruce. In all of the comment sections were people discussing you and what you looked like, who you were, what you were doing with Steve and why he was dating you. They were far from nice comments. A lot of them weren’t even mean.

The comments were cruel, malicious, vulgar. The comments cut you deeper with every one you read and you really needed to stop reading them. Each comment dinged you. Every single one you read made you shake, feel sick, they made you feel hot and cold and jittery.

You couldn’t go to this thing tonight.

You couldn’t have people looking at you, judging you, trying to figure out what the hell Steve was doing with you when he could clearly do much better.

Your mind was set.

You were staying home.

You weren’t going and as you climbed the steps and set off down the hallway, you were running through your reasons, you were preparing yourself, you were ready to give Steve your well thought out reason. You had a whole plan worked out as you found yourself calling out for Steve, who you knew was still home.

Peering into his office…he wasn’t in there.

Steve wasn’t in the den either.

Maybe he was in his bedroom?

Steve’s voice answered you from down the hall. Confirming that for you. He was in his bedroom. Perfect.

Setting your shoulders, you went onwards down the hallway towards the light filled master. You could do this. You could say this. You had a plan. Compared to the judgement that awaited you when people saw you with Steve, as a couple, later that day, this was preferable. You couldn’t deal with that much negativity and cruelness in your life. Your life was complicated enough as was, without the opinions of every person obsessed with Steve’s love life on the internet, bouncing around your head.

Where the hell had he gotten to?

Steve’s bedroom was empty.

Light poured in his windows through gauzy. His bed was made. He’d made it. You could tell because the sheets were tucked in perfectly, the pillows arranged just so, the quilt folded up with nothing short of precision on the end of the bed.

Sounds came from the adjoining bathroom, making you stroll in and over the nice cushy throw rug, making you flex your toes in the soft tufts of it. You’d picked it out along with the teak furniture set. Up on the closet molding hung an ironed white polo shirt. Which you had not done. You yourself were not much of an ironer. In fact, you couldn’t nail down the last time you saw your iron.

However, the sight of Steve made you forget all thoughts of where the hell your iron had gotten to, because the sight of Steve made you scream.

A scream of shock and horror and disbelief.

Steve had shaved his beard.

Your Daddy was beardless.

Where had his beard gone? Why was his beard gone? What had happened to his glorious beard?

A shrill noise sprang forth from you and up your hand raised, downright accusingly at his face.

Steve even had the audacity to give you a chagrined look as he walked from the bathroom, running a hand over his smooth face. He then had the further audacity to tell you, in that boyishly charming sort of way. “I was trimming my beard and went a little too high on one side. It wasn’t even. So I had to shave it. It’ll grow back.”

And that, you pinpointed, was the exact very second when you lost your damn mind.

All those comments that you’d been reading, that you’d been thinking about and thinking about and thinking about all week, well, they sorta just crept up on you, jumped you from behind like kids in a playground fight over recess.

Continue on ao3

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: A man holding a baby girl as he and an androgynous person admire her. The man has blue skin with golden freckles, short fluffy beige-grey hair, and golden eyes. He is wearing a light blue turtleneck shirt and a blue sweatervest with yellow trim. The baby in his arms has purple skin with green freckles, green eyes, and a tuft of pale pink hair poking out from under her brown bear hat. She is wearing the hat, a blue long sleeved shirt, green pants, and pink socks with yellow on the toes. She is looking over at the other person, who has reddish-brown skin and long pink and green hair in a ponytail that resembles a stargazer lily. They are wearing a purple sweater with a pink turtleneck collar and pink star design, and they have their hands up near their face and are grinning. Behind them is an aqua green wall, a brown dresser, and a doorway leading into a room with teal walls and purple flooring. End ID.]

-----

A finger snap drew both his and Lizzie’s attention. Cosmos grinned mischievously, holding one hand behind their back. “Wh-what do, um, what d-do yyyou ha-have?” Teddy asked. “B-behi, behind you?” Cosmos’s smile grew wider, and that’s when they revealed the hat. It was clearly for Lizzie given that it was baby-sized, soft and brown, designed to go around the entire head and expose only the face. And it had little bear ears on it. Teddy let out an excited gasp, and he adjusted Lizzie in his arms so that Cosmos could put the hat on her. Lizzie looked at her parents in awe, not knowing why her parents were so excited but not minding in the slightest.

“All she needs is her coat and we’ll be ready to go,” Cosmos said. “You know, we made a really cute baby.”

+++++

More 101 Smiles with Bear Hat :D

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~If you like, please reblog to show your friends! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs let more people see my content! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Smile For Me and related concepts © LimboLane Theodore Shelley, Elizabeth Stargazer-Shelley, Cosmos Stargazer, and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader 

Masterlist   Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Warnings- Angst (I guess), SMUT/NSFW, choking.

Chapter 5 Remember To Forget

Throughout the day, John had pretended that he really hadn't seen what he did in the wee hours of the morning when he’d innocently crept to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find Y/n a teary mess before slinking back to his room. And for the most part, Y/n had acted like it hadn’t happened, though, John wasn’t sure if it was because he was simply searching for a shift in her demeanor or if there really was one, but she had been significantly quieter. She seemed distant to, far into some day dream, and at some point, when Donavan had requested a private audience with her, he’d fumed out of her office minutes after they’d been left alone, not to be seen again for the rest of the afternoon. That had arguably been John’s favorite part of the day; he didn’t like the other man anyway, for reasons another person might attribute to jealousy while he himself would say that there was simply something about him that didn't sit well.

They’d returned to her penthouse late in the evening, past dark and without words exchanged, Y/n had stalked off in front of John, discarding her stylish charcoal blazer on a tufted ottoman in the hallway before steering into the kitchen. Maintaining their distance as he had through the day, John was intent on his bedroom, not expecting her to stop him just before he began down the hall. “Yeah?” He glanced Y/n’s way after she called.

“Have dinner with me,” if he’d learned anything about her, it was that Y/n didn’t ask for what she wanted, instead, she simply stated it, wholly expecting submission. Most times she got it too, though, she did expect John to be a more worthy opponent and was prepared to snatch his company for the evening. “I don’t usually cook, but if you stay and I can promise you won’t regret it.”

John dwelled on Y/n’s offer for a minute, internally debating it. He wanted to stay, spend time with her, despite his foreboding dream and the edge of danger that accompanied her presence. And finally, when logic preached that it was just dinner, he caved, shrugging his suit coat and draping it over a chair at the kitchen table, “Okay, sounds good.”

Y/n seemed pleasantly surprised, though, she didn’t let it linger on her face for too long. “Good, I’m-” she cleared her throat softly, remembering herself as she went to grab some ingredients from the fridge, “That’s good. Wine?”

“Sure.” After that, she poured them a couple glasses, insisting, or rather demanding that he sit and stay put while she cooked, muttering something about how she worked better without the help as she chopped a carrot aggressively. It wasn’t long before she’d turned on a record player either, one that resided neatly in a corner, largely unseen until Y/n went over to it, putting a record under the pin. The music was soft, and John recognized most of them as tunes from a time before even he’d been dreamt into existence. He hadn’t pegged her for the kind of person who enjoyed fifties music, but as John was quickly realizing, there was more to Y/n that met the eye. 

She’d just put the glass lid on a saucepan, allowing its contents to simmer while she poured them another glass of wine. “What’s this one?” John probed absently, staring at Y/n as she leaned over the counter to refill him, a few wispy locks escaping her loose ponytail and her stature relaxed after she’d long traded in her heels for walking around barefoot. Seeing her like that was nice, it reminded him that she was human; just a young girl, caught in a world that circumstance afforded her. 

“This one?” Y/n hummed, the song had just begun, the first notes wafting and pleasantly intermingling with the aroma of what she was making, “Its called The Twelfth Of Never,” she smiled absently, probably not even realizing she was doing it, “It was my mom’s favorite, my parents played at their wedding,” Y/n took a tentative sip from her glass, deciding on whether or not she should say more, “And she used to sing it to me, before…..before she….”

“I understand,” John reached over from his perch on a barstool, surprising them both when he grabbed her hand, squeezing gently, “That must be a beautiful memory.”

That time, when Y/n smiled, he was almost sure she’d done it on purpose, “It is.” And without another word, she approached the player, making a few adjustments so the song would restart, “Let me show you something,” Y/n set her glass down, walking around to John and offering her hand, “Come on.”

“You want to dance?” He chuckled, discarding his wine glass, skeptically taking her offered hand, gasping quietly at its softness, completely contrasting the calluses on his large palms. 

“Why not?” Y/n didn’t meet his gaze, but John swore he could tell she wanted too, playing along as she arranged his hands on her body. Touching her like that, it was weird to say the least, not just because he still usually considered himself a married man, but also because holding Y/n felt vastly different to the way it had in his dreams. Then, she hadn’t felt so small, so breakable. Not like the invincible woman he knew in wake, but like someone he’d want to protect. “You lead,” she broke his thoughts, “Its not a hard one.”

Slowly, as permitted, John led Y/n in a slow waltz, his hand stationed at the center of her back, the satin of her blush colored blouse soft to touch. Her hand at his shoulder was, dare he say, comforting and as they sunk into a new familiarity, Y/n stepped closer, so they were chest to chest, her eyes vacant as they danced. “Have you ever felt like that about someone, John? Like you could love them forever?”

“My wife,” his hand slid lower, to the dip of Y/n’s back, and she seemed to hesitate before leaning her head against his chest. For a moment, John stiffened, he hadn't expected her to do that. Then again, he hadn't expected her to do anything she had that evening. After a moment though, he let himself relax, not wanting to admit, even to himself, that he liked having her that close. "She's…...I miss her," he mused, quelling the impulse to tighten his hold on Y/n. "You?"

"Me?" She huffed a humorless chuckle, “No, never. But maybe that’s a good thing. Love is…...destructive,” Y/n’s last words were so soft that John may not have heard them if she weren’t so close. Suddenly, he realized that like him, even if she’d been raised by a family, Y/n must have had a childhood as jaded as his, especially after mother’s death. He and Y/n might have had more in common that he would have preferred to admit. They were two bent, hardened people, seeking to fend for themselves because trust wasn’t something they could be guaranteed. 

Emboldened by this new realization, and seeing how she was comfortable enough to sink into his arms, John guided their conversation in another direction, “I saw you last night.” He eased the topic in slowly, not wanting Y/n to recede into herself. John ached to know her, help her, if she’d let him. “In the kitchen.”

Knowing exactly what he was talking about, Y/n tensed up, holding her breath as if it would make her disappear, only letting it out when they stopped, still standing in the middle of the kitchen, entangled, “What did you see?” A pair of wide eyes stared up at John with an expression he couldn’t quite read. 

“You know what I saw,” John insisted softly, his arms showing no intention of releasing Y/n, even when one of her hands curiously slid around his neck, inching upwards to tangle his burnt hued mane, “We can talk about it if you want to.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, John” Y/n’s lengthy, half moon nails gently grazed his scalp and she leaned up on her toes so her lips would be a hair away from his, “But you didn’t. So just forget about it,” she urged, tilting her head as she finally laid her lips on John's, moving them against his encouragingly. He took a beat, but eventually responded, curling his fingers behind her back to clutch a fistful of her shirt’s fabric. 

Y/n’s free hand gripped his firm bicep and John let himself run with the moment, his eyes shutting and his tongue evading the barrier of her teeth. She tasted like wine and something he’d never tasted on another woman, something unique and inviting. It felt so good to be like that with someone again, the proximity, the intimacy, the fragility of the moment, it was all so consuming that John let himself forget. But only for a bit. Until a voice, one he could only ever hear in his dreams, caught up with him. How could you, John?

“I can’t,” in an instant, John was pulling his face away, not realizing that he hadn’t relented his grip on Y/n, “This isn’t……” He couldn’t do that to Helen, taint her memory by laying with someone like Y/n. With someone who reminded him of himself. 

“Why?” Searching his features, Y/n cupped John’s cheek, his trimmed, grey speckled scruff ticklish under her soft palm as her thumb grazed the hint of a wrinkle near his eye.

“I’m married…..” John’s hands shifted on her body, slipping so they were stationed at her waist, but even then, he seemed reluctant to remove them altogether, “My wife…..”

“What you do with me won’t change what you had with her,” Y/n’s husky whisper was accompanied by her free hand skimming his torso, her touch electrifying, causing John’s breath to hitch. Hesitantly, his gaze fell to her kiss swollen lips, knowing his resolve was ebbing away. Her fingers stopped at the buckle of his belt, and he was actually surprised that she hadn't taken it further, “I know you want to,” to prove her point, Y/n pressed her front to his, feeling his growing longing against her stomach, “You can’t tell me you don’t.”

She was right, as hard as he was trying, John knew that he couldn’t resist. Maybe he’d been done for it from the moment he met Y/n at the Continental, when her mystery ignited a spark that he hadn't felt since Helen. Besides, it was just sex. A dark glint shifted in his eye, clouding his usual stoicism as John's hand inched down to her hips, giving Y/n's short skirt a series of gentle tugs so the fabric would ride up her thighs. "You're right; I can't," his calloused fingers ghosted her smooth skin, raising goosebumps, "And I do want to."

Offering a glimmer of a wicked smirk, Y/n toyed with the buckle of the belt until it came undone, ignoring the loud clatter that followed when she finally slid the leather out of its loops and dropped it to the floor, "Then what's stopping you, Mr. Wick?" Nimble, petite fingers popped the plastic button of John's slacks. 

"Right now?" One large hand ventured under the hem of her skirt, pushing the crotch of Y/n's panties aside so his rough, stocky digits could tease her folds. Spreading her slickness, John took his time before pressing down on her clit, igniting a new throbbing in her crotch. Loudly, Y/n moaned around his fingers, an indirect plea for more and John cocked a devilish smirk, "Not a damn thing."

Y/n was too lewd to respond verbally, one of her legs simply crooking at John's hip, his undone pants riding a little lower each time they shifted. Simultaneously, as John worked her cunt, his free hand hastily pulled her blouse out from her skirt, reaching under it to grope a lace clad breast. "John….." Y/n huffed, breath contained in her throat. 

"Yeah," he gritted his teeth Y/n reached into his boxers, hissed when her jewelry adorned hand circled his hardened cock, the metal cold against his skin, and finally, when her thumb rubbed his swollen head, spreading around the first beads of precum before pumping slow, John moaned sinfully, "Fuck!" His forehead touched hers briefly, before John hoisted Y/n up in his arms, only to discard her moments later on the dark veined marble counter. 

Leaning past her, he quickly turned off the top burner on the electric stove before returning his attention. Y/n had already started undoing the buttons of her shirt and entranced, John stared as the fabric hung off her shoulders, his mind flashing to the day he'd seen her exposed modesty in the reflection. Seeing her that evening though, it was absolutely incomparable; full breasts nearly spilling out of rich black lace and unblemished skin almost glowing in the cool lighting of the room. Y/n looked like a thing of erotic art, her legs spread wide to accommodate him standing between them as she propped herself on hands planted on the counter. Hair pulled away from her face left John's alluring view unhampered and as he admired, Y/n's words, spoken from matted burgundy lips pierced his thoughts and she reached out, catching the hem of his shirt, "If it makes you feel better," she tugged him closer, bringing her face to his so a searing kiss would punctuate her words, "You can pretend I'm her."

So it really was just sex, John thought, Y/n didn't care much beyond the physical. "No," more hastily that time, John shoved up Y/n's skirt, roughly tugging her legs soon after, and finally peeling off her panties tossing them away, "Cause I'm gonna do things to you," he pushed down his pants and boxers, letting them fall around his ankles and his lips peppering nibbles along her jaw and neck, somehow losing his shirt in the process, "That I'd never do to her." And with that, and no prior warning, John pressed into Y/n, filling her up to the brim. 

In unison, their hallowed sounds bounced off the white walls, Y/n's nails digging into his shoulder blades as he stretched her so wide it burned. Drunk on the feeling of having Y/n's tight, heated, wetness around him, John's hips buckled on instinct. Fueled by carnal desire; any trace of something much more tender vanquished by the heavy air surrounding them, he stirred up a quick, fluid pace, his length dragging out of Y/n's perfectly tight cunt before slamming back in. His onslaught of violent thrusts elicited loud, sinfully erotic sounds from Y/n, who had unintentionally relinquished any control that she, just a while ago, brandished over the situation, resigning to hanging onto John as he had his way with her. 

"John…...fuck…...John!" Her broken, ragged words were few and the feeling of John's throbbing veins generating the best kind of friction as he roughly moved inside her,  jerking her body with his selfish pace. Helpless against his whims, Y/n clawed at his back, accentuating the shine of healed scars and the bold black ink with angry red lines. 

"You feel so fucking good," he growled, one hand skimming Y/n's as the other held a death grip on her hip, "So fucked tight around my cock," John's throaty gnarrs were enough to intensify her need, rousing Y/n to tighten her legs around his waist. By passing her still restrained breasts, John found the graceful column of Y/n's neck, his palm lingering flat at the base of her throat for just a second before his grip closed around her neck. 

Gradually, the pressure he applied on either side of Y/n's neck increased, yet the tighter his hold got, the more she wanted. Surely, he was leaving a large bruise, one that would probably compliment the ones he'd already given her and match with the ones she was giving him. "Open your eyes," John urged, not slowing as consciousness seemed like a struggle. He was good though, always giving Y/n enough to keep her with him while still muting her power.

She didn't think she could like it that much, being at someone else's mercy, but this was John, and what they were doing then would probably mean nothing with the coming hours. It was fun; meant to last for a while, be a sweet escape for whatever troubled her before Y/n would return to her ivory tower. 

It was hard to even try to choke a couple words out, and Y/n was sure that her reddened eyes were leaking with slow, rare tears, as bluish spots skewed her vision, blurring her view of John. "I….I'm…." But even as the coil on Y/n's stomach was about to snap, she couldn't manage the words.

Still though, John understood, "Do it…." He grunted urgently, "Fuck!" He continued rolling his hips incessantly, prolonging the journey to his own release. He craved the feeling of Y/n coming around him, clenching around his cock as she tripped over the edge, "Cum for me," he squeezed her neck.

Just then, the rush of sticky warmth was spilling out, messily coating their thighs and slowly drizzling down their legs. The sound that left her lips could have best been something between a scream and a languid moan as Y/n's eyes rolled back into her head. As the shocks of sheer pleasure coursed through her, sending a spark to every nerve ending in  her petite being, her toes curled and her legs tangled around John's hips stiffened momentarily. 

Ridding out her explosive high, John's movements went rigid at the feeling of Y/n milking him. As she came down, he let go, using all his restraint to not squeeze her neck too tight as he came, sheathed deep inside, ropes of hot, release against her walls, not pulling out until he'd expended himself. 

Leaving her with a distinct hollowness between  her sticky thighs, John detached their spent, sated forms, not touching her, but still boxing Y/n in by steadying himself with his palms planted firmly on the counter. They were breathing erratically and heavily whilst actively avoiding each other's gazes, trying to make the experience as impersonal as it clearly wasn't. 

"So," Y/n swallowed harshly, trying to remedy her hoarseness and shrugging her shirt back up to close up the buttons. When John looked at her, he seemed as equally as cold and unaffected as Y/n did, and they both knew that talking about what had just happened wasn't on the table.

"So?" John prompted, pulling up his pants, deciding that even cleaning up around Y/n was too intimate.

"So, dinner?" Her feet hit the shiny marble floor with the softest thud before Y/n, slipped out from the slim space between his hulking frame and the edge of the counter, padding over to turn on the stove again. 

John didn't answer immediately, both phased and relieved that Y/n had chosen to dismiss their encounter so quickly, less than thirty minutes after it had happened. "Okay," he confirmed, forgoing his shirt.

Blinking quickly, Y/n faltered, though, the moment was fleeting and soon she was nodding stiffly, "Okay."

*****

Tagging-@harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @jupiterdawngirl

[before-we-get-started]

Dream Come True

Colin Shea x O/C Corinne MacAdam

Multi-Chapter Story - Complete

Summary: Colin Shea and his band Rock the Cradle are finally making it big - until something unexpected happens. When he meets a girl that makes him reconsider his player ways, he thinks his life may be coming together, until she blows it apart.

Warning: Bad language, smut, suicidal ideations - no one under 18, please

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please do not read if you are underage. I do not own the character of Colin Shea; the rest are my original characters. By reading beyond this point, you understand the disclaimers as posted.

Chapter Five

On Monday, she woke up with a new outlook. Today she’d start a new job, something much different than working for the events management company. Serving as personal assistant to a family friend, an heiress and philanthropist, eccentric and a spinster, but a very nice woman. Cori’s mother had reminded her that her new boss, Ms. Robbins, was prone to mood swings (and forgetting things), but that she’d treat her fairly and appreciate her hard work.

On a whim on Sunday, she’d decided to color her hair. She bought a kit and gave herself light blonde highlights, lightening the chestnut brown. She looked as if she’d been out in the sun, as if maybe she had a healthy outdoor lifestyle, not like she’d been holed up feeling sorry for herself for months.

She dressed in a chocolate brown business suit with a cream blouse, a bow tied at the neck. She put on her brown pumps and some with the crème filigreed toe accent and grabbed her purse. For good luck, she put on the pearl drop earrings her parents had gotten her for her 16th birthday. She’d prepped her lunch the night before and grabbed the thermal bag from the frig, along with her travel coffee mug. She had plenty of time to make the T to the Back Bay neighborhood where Ms. Robbins lived.

As she’d finished getting ready, “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves had been playing on the radio. She found herself singing it softly as she left the apartment. “I’m walking on sunshine – yeah!” she sang, a little louder than she planned, as the door to 6A opened. Colin emerged in his boxers. He bent down to pick up a newspaper, then stood up and took a good look at her as she walked by.

“Mornin’ 6C,” he said with that gorgeous smile. His eyes ran over her from head to toe and she could almost feel it.

She smiled back, gazing over her shoulder as she walked by. “Mornin’ 6A. Have a good day.” She kept walking down the stairs, her optimism bubbling up. What a great way to start the day – Colin in his boxers. She smiled to herself, descending the stairs, holding on to the wooden rail. She looked up just long enough to see Colin, arms on the railing, leaning over to watch her.

“You have a good day, too,” he said, lingering as she bounced her way down and out of the building.

Ms. Robbins lived in a huge terracotta brick home on Newton Street. The house had been divided up into condos and she occupied the entire first floor. It was just her and Yaz, her Yorkie (Ms. Robbins was a lifelong Red Sox fan). Cori had been to her home twice before – once as a child for a dinner party, and once a few weeks ago for her job interview. She entered the front door and rang the bell at the door on her left, the entry to Ms. Robbins’ home.

“’S open!”

Cori entered and walked into the main living area, adorned with floral wallpaper in greens and blues. Wood three-quarter round trim stained a honey color trimmed the room and honey colored hardwoods peeked out from a solid blue area rug. There was a Steinway piano, a Victorian couch and chair and a coffee table in the room, along with built-in shelves that held items from around the world, secured during Ms. Robbins’ travels.

“It’s Cori,” she said in a singsong voice. Yaz came streaking into the room, yapping ferociously. She bent down and petted the silky hair around the blue bow tied around a small tuft on his head. He returned the gesture with little licks to her hand.

“Good morning!” Ms. Robbins had cornered the market on brocade dresses. Every time Cori had ever seen her, she was in some type of beautiful brocade. Today’s was a kelly green/ecru paisley that was beautiful against her ivory skin and auburn hair. In her mid-60’s, she was medium height and quite fit, a few lines on her porcelain skin but they weren’t too noticeable with her impeccable makeup. She was holding a number of envelopes as she entered the room.

She hugged Cori and extended her arms, getting a look at her. “Cori, you look absolutely gorgeous. I’m so excited we’ll be working together.”

Cori smiled. “I am too Ms. Robbins. I really appreciate this opportunity.”

“I’m going to keep you busy,” she said. “Now let me show you around so we can get to work.” She led Cori through a formal dining room, complete with a giant ornate wood table and chairs, into a kitchen that had obviously been recently remodeled. Tall white cabinets, a beautiful light gray granite and a white subway tile backsplash, with larger square ceramic tiles and a beautiful mosaic tile providing a pop of color behind the large stainless Bertazzoni range. The kitchen was immaculate – Cori wondered if any food had ever actually been prepared in the room.

“You can put your lunch bag here,” she said, pointing to the giant SubZero frig, “and are you a coffee drinker?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Cori said, shaking her travel mug in front of her.

“Wonderful! I have a coffee station here, there are an assortment of flavors. Lots of creamer in the frig. Help yourself,” she said, waving her arm in front of the high-end coffee maker like it was up for bids on The Price is Right.

She showed Cori the powder room and where she could store her coat and any other items she brought with her. “I want you to feel at home. Help yourself to whatever you find in the kitchen. If you can’t find something, just let me know. Mi casa, su casa,” she said with a smile.

Cori felt a surge of excitement, for the hospitality and for the unknown opportunity that lied ahead.

They made their way to the office, just off the living area with beautiful French doors in the same honey wood. The walls were done in a green wallpaper with wide green velvet stripes. The honey floors carried in and there was a large mahogany desk, built-in bookcases behind it and a high-backed leather office chair.

“This is your workspace now,” Ms. Robbins said. “You’ll find a variety of office supplies in the desk and in the cabinet on the wall. If what you need isn’t here, make a list and – well – I’ll send you out to buy it,” she smiled.

Cori laughed. “Yes ma’am,” she said with a laugh.

“And how about if you call me Amelia. ‘Ma’am’ and ‘Ms. Robbins’ make me feel old.”

“Ok Amelia,” she said. “I love that name.”

“And I love yours. My mother’s name was Corinne. I’m named after my father’s mother. Thank goodness, my mother’s mother was Agatha.” They both laughed.

“I thought we’d operate this way – this new laptop is yours. You can use it here and take it home if you ever need to work after hours. In this book (she opened a leather-bound journal), there are sections. The first will be for your schedule. I’ve written what I’d like you to do this week here,” she said, pointing at a page behind the first tab. “The second section will be for lists. I’ve written this week’s date and a list of items I need you to purchase. The third section will be for your hours. Sign in and out each day, and be sure to include any evening or weekend hours, there will eventually be some. I’ll check it on Fridays, send the hours to my accountant and he’ll transfer money to your account on Monday morning, so pay weekly. Does that work?”

“Yes,” said Cori. “That works perfectly.”

“Great. Whenever you need to go out, Gerald will be available with the car. Let’s take today to get you familiar with the house, the neighborhood and the things I’ll expect you to do. We’ll have lunch on Beacon Hill today because it’s so gorgeous out and tomorrow will be your first actual day with work.”

And so the day progressed, Ms. Robbins doing all the things she promised. After getting familiar with more of the house and where things were stored, they sat in the office and discussed her upcoming calendar and events, and the other tasks she’d expect Cori to accomplish. At 11 a.m. they walked out front where Gerald and the car were waiting. They climbed in the back and Ms. Robbins directed the driver to “run the tour route.” They wove through the streets of the neighborhood and those that bordered. She showed Cori her preferred market, florist, office supply store and other shops. Cori made notes as they went. When they’d finished the tour, the driver stopped in front of a bistro in Beacon Hill with a low brick wall that surrounded a courtyard full of outdoor tables under bright red umbrellas.

“Ms. Robbins, so good to see you. Right this way.” The host showed them to a table tucked away in the back corner of the courtyard. Almost as soon as they were seated, a server set glasses of ice water and iced tea in front of them with a little bowl of lemon wedges. The host handed Cori a menu.

“Will you be having your usual today?” the host asked.

“Yes Phillip. But please give Ms. MacAdam a minute to look.”

“Of course.” The host left the table, passing another server who set a two baskets on the table, one with fresh hot breadsticks in a linen cloth bed and the other little pats of cold butter.

Cori inhaled the smell of the fresh bread, closing her eyes.

“A carb girl, a girl after my own heart,” Ms. Robbins said, pulling out two breadsticks and handing one to Cori.

“Maybe just one,” she said, using her knife to cut off a small wedge of butter and smearing it on the breadstick. She took a bite. “Oh my gosh,” she said softly.

“I know, right?” said Ms. Robbins. “Those breadsticks are my spirit animal.” They both laughed.

Cori chose a salmon salad with a lemon vinaigrette and Ms. Robbins got her usual Salad Niçoise and they chatted away, talking about Beacon Hill, their favorite Boston eateries, Cori’s family, and eventually, Cori’s recent past.

“I saw your mother last year at a benefit and she said you had found your dream job with Spalding Events. Was it not what you had hoped?”

Cori suddenly felt panicked. Ms. Robbins obviously didn’t know what had happened to her, or that she’d been unceremoniously dumped by the love of her life when he banged her best friend the night before their wedding. Just the thought of all of it made her a little dizzy. She took a deep breath. Get it together.

“It was wonderful, but I was in an accident-“

Ms. Robbins gasped quietly and reached for her hand. “Oh dear, are you ok?”

“Yes,” said Cori. “I am now. I actually stepped off the curb and got hit by a cab.”

This time the gasp was much more audible. “My word! Cori! That’s horrifying!”

“It was,” she said softly. “I suffered some serious injuries. The folks at Spalding were kind enough to let me keep working from home once I was able. But I had to do a lot of physical therapy, I moved back in with my parents. Honestly, I just needed a fresh start.” She left out the part about Matthew and Amber.

Ms. Robbins kept her hand on Cori’s, patting it softly. “I’m so glad you’re ok. I can’t imagine what your parents must have gone through as well. Your supervisor spoke very highly of you when I called. She said they’d have you back in a minute.”

“That’s really nice of them,” she said.

“Well, don’t worry. I know events are your specialty. We’ll start out slow but eventually, you’ll be planning my events. I love to entertain and especially to raise money for my foundation. You’ll be able to put that experience to work and for lots of good causes.”

Cori felt a rush of giddiness. Her own events. She loved the sound of that. This was exactly what she needed, what she’d hoped for.

“I can’t wait,” she said with a giggle.

“Good! Now, tell me, if I keep you late or ask you to work on weekends, will I be imposing on a relationship with your significant other? I understand that you have a life.”

The smile ran away from her face. “No, no significant other.”

“Well, then we’ll have more than one goal for our events, won’t we?” she said with a smile.

They finished lunch, which was delicious, and the driver took them back to Newton Street. The rest of the day was spent getting familiar with the office, files she’d need, Ms. Robbins’ rolodex and books from some of her previous events. There were photos and agendas and a list of all the companies used for each event. She recognized lots of them from working at Spalding.

Five o’clock was here before she knew it and she grabbed her bag and headed for the T. She left her lunch bag for tomorrow. The ride home was easy and she ascended the stairs of her apartment building, headed for the sixth floor. On Saturday night during the party, her neighbors said the elevator is almost always out. She was glad it was working when her father helped her move in.

She reached her floor and stared at 6A. She wondered if Colin was home, and if so, what he was doing. Impulsively, she knocked on his door. After a bit, he answered. He was in a Patriots t-shirt and athletic shorts, barefoot, his hair spikey and messy. He looked like maybe he hadn’t been awake for very long.

“Hey! How was your first day?” he said, smiling.

“Really good,” she said. “Very good. Hey, I was thinking, maybe you could come for dinner one night this week. You can tell me about your neighborhood watch program.”

He smiled. “You’ll be a good recruit and I never turn down a free meal. So yes.”

“Great, how about Wednesday at 7?”

“I’ll be there.”

As Cori walked away, she saw a leggy blonde coming off the last step and turning towards Colin’s door. She peered over her shoulder and saw him embrace her, then they shared a long, deep kiss. She noticed his long eyelashes laying on high cheekbones when he closed his eyes for the kiss. Cori felt her knees go weak. She wished for a second she was a leggy blonde.

“You came,” he said. “Nicole, right?”

“Nina,” the blonde corrected him.

“Yeah, Nina. Come on in.” He held the door open for her, placing his hand on the small of her back as she walked in. He looked over at Cori. “Night 6C.”

“Good night,” she replied. The door clicked behind him. Cori unlocked the door and went in, spending the rest of the evening thinking about that kiss. It wouldn’t be as good as the one she got from her mystery man, but she bet it was close.

Tuesday was a normal day, learning and exploring at work, then on Wednesday, she ran to the market after getting off the train to grab a few items. She was in by 5:30, giving her some time to prep dinner. She loved to cook. She wasn’t a chef by any means but she could hold her own. She’d decided to prepare a margherita pasta with shrimp for tonight, with a salad and strawberry shortcakes for dessert. She took a quick shower, put on a little makeup, pulled her hair up in a messy bun after dressing in jeans and an emerald green cold shoulder shirt and jeans and headed for the kitchen. She chopped tomatoes, onions, garlic and basil, seared the shrimp and boiled the pasta. She tossed the romaine salad with some vinaigrette. She set the table, opened a bottle of white wine and put it in an ice bucket, filled two glasses with ice water and as she was setting them on the table, there was a knock at the door.

She glanced in the mirror next to the door – she looked as good as she could, she supposed. She unlocked the door then opened it.

“Hey,” he said. She gasped softly. He was in a cobalt blue button up shirt, black belt, jeans and boots. There was a thin silver chain around his neck, a small silver medallion resting in the valley between his defined pecs. The edge of a tattoo peeked out where the shirt was unbuttoned. His hair was styled. He handed her a small bouquet of fresh flowers. “For you.”

She smiled, a smile that lit up her whole face, and took the flowers. “They’re beautiful. Come in.” She stepped out of the way and he walked the few steps in, making the step down into her living/dining room.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here,” he said, making a show of sniffing the air. “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t in cardboard or Styrofoam.”

“I hope you like shrimp – and pasta,” she said.

“That sounds great,” he replied.

She pulled a vase out of the cabinet, added a little water and put the flowers in, setting them in the middle of the table. “Everything is ready,” she said, extending her arm toward the table. He sat down at one of the place settings and picked up the napkin, unfolding it and placing it in his lap.

“So how was day three?” he asked.

She pulled the pan of pasta from the stove and set in on the table. “Really good,” she said.

“Tell me more.”

“I’m a personal assistant for Amelia Robbins. She’s heir to Robbins Manufacturing. She has a house over in Back Bay.”

“Wow, nice neighborhood,” he said, eyeing the pasta she was putting on his plate.

“Very nice. She lives in a huge building full of condos. Her home is the entire first floor. It’s really pretty,” she said.

“So what kind of assistant stuff are you doing?”

“I run errands, do some shopping, manage her calendar. Eventually I’ll be her event planner. She hosts a number of fundraisers for non-profits throughout the year.”

He twisted the pasta around his fork and took a bite, stopping abruptly. He spoke but the words were unintelligible with a mouthful of food.

“What?” she said laughing.

He chewed and swallowed. “I said Holy Shit, this is amazing!” He loaded another fork full and shoveled it in. “Absolutely delicious.”

She was pleased. The evening would suck if the food was bad.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said, taking her own bite. It did taste pretty good.

They talked a little more about her job and then she asked about the band.

“So, what’s the name of your band?”

“Oh, Rock the Cradle – like, Boston is the Cradle of Liberty, and we definitely rock.”

“If I wanted to hear you, where would I go?”

“Finnegan’s, O’Leary’s, Rap’s, local bars,” he said.

“Mm,” she hummed as she finished a bite of pasta. “I’m envious. I always wanted to be in a band. I took piano and played in orchestra in high school. It must be great to take the stage and play your own music.”

He sighed, smiling broadly. “It is,” he said as he put his hand over his chest. “It’s the most incredible feeling. I’m addicted.”

“I’ll bet! And I’m sure you have a pretty incredible stage presence.”

“Well, I don’t mind bragging but yeah, I can wrap an audience up, no problem.”

Cori was impressed. “Just think, when you get that record deal, you’ll already be great at performing live.”

His face dropped then. He looked down at his plate. “We took a break for a while a few months ago. There were some things I had to work through.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Did the break help?” She couldn’t help but wonder – guys in bands were often partiers. Did he have a drinking problem? Drugs? He didn’t seem the type, but you never knew what someone else was going through. She stirred the fork around in her plate. “If you guys are that good, I’m sure you’ll get another chance.”

He looked up at her and smiled sheepishly, like a little boy. “It gave me some time to think, and yeah, exactly. I tell the guys that all the time.” He didn’t sound like he believed it.

She smiled, feeling sad for him. He was obviously incredibly disappointed. That sweet smile was gone and she found herself wanting to give him a hug. “Probably get a better record deal next time anyway.”

He smiled. “Exactly. That’s what I told the guys. Everything happens for a reason.” He pulled the fork across his plate, scraping up the last possible bite.

She smiled, happy he liked it so much. “Dessert?” she said sweetly.

His face suddenly shifted and through hooded blue eyes, he smirked and purred, “I never turn down dessert.”

Cori felt the heat flush her cheeks. “Sorry to disappoint you, just strawberry shortcake.”

He laughed. “Ok, I’ll settle for that.”

He picked up the plates from the table and took them to the sink while she pulled the sponge cake, strawberries and whipped cream from the frig. She pulled two ramekins from the cabinet and with a knife, cut circles of cake to fit in the little cups. Colin stood next to her at the counter, peering over her shoulder.

“That looks so good,” he said, reaching over and sticking his finger in the whipped cream. She pulled the bowl away from him.

“Patience,” she laughed. “Go sit.”

He strode to the couch, dropping himself against the throw pillows.

Cori thought about how comfortable all of this was. Dinner together, easy banter, affectionate looks. Everything she thought she’d have by now, with Matthew.

She stared down at her hands and sighed. Colin was sweet and dangerously sexy, but he was just another Matthew. Having a variety of girls was his trademark. Besides, she wasn’t even in the league with the other girls she’d seen at his place.

She shook her head to clear the thought and grabbed two spoons, carrying their desserts to the couch.

Colin admired the sweet treat as she handed it to him. “You’re one incredible cook,” he said, dipping his spoon in and snagging a little of each layer. He hummed as he enjoyed the first bite. “Man, I could get used to this,” he said, smiling at her.

“Well, stay on my good side and I’ll fatten you up.”

He laughed. “Hey, the body is part of the show. But I’ll take my chances.”

They finished and she took their cups. She was so enjoying his company, she spoke before she could think about it. “So, I was thinking, if you want, maybe we could watch a movie or play a game or something.”

Colin glanced at his watch and made a face, then bounced off the couch up the step to the front door and peered through the peephole. “Shit.”

“Everything ok?”

He stepped down from the door. “Can I take a raincheck? I need to get out of here.”

She hoped the disappointment that washed over her didn’t show. “Of course,” she said.

“Great. You’re the best. Thanks – for the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” He reached for her to pull her into a hug and as he touched her arm, they both felt as if lightning shot through them.

Colin jumped back. “Damn, what the hell?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know. The two of us together are dangerous,” she said with a smile.

He grinned and looked a little sad. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks again.” He unlocked the locks on the door and left, pulling it closed behind him.

She was a little dazed, lightheaded even after the moment. She hadn’t noticed any static electricity anywhere else. That was an enormous charge. She stepped up to the door and peered through the peephole. Her heart dropped. Colin’s back was to her and he was wrapped around another leggy blonde. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her tongue was down his throat. He turned them around, never breaking the kiss, fumbled with the doorknob and opened the door, pulling her inside. The door closed.

She was right. Not even close to being in his league. She stepped down into the kitchen to clean up.

Monday morning’s alarm rang and she trudged through her normal routine. As she unlocked her door to leave, she heard voices in the hallway.

“I can’t. Look, I would if I could but I’ve got something else going on.”

“Colin, you always do this. I want to go on a date. A real date. You know I only want to be with you.” The voice was female.

She slowly opened the door, embarrassed to intrude on their conversation, but she had to go to work. She slowly stepped out, the conversation continuing.

“I appreciate that,” he purred, running his hands down her bare arms. She had raven hair that was pulled into a ponytail, tight yoga pants and a spandex workout top, her curves on display. “But there’s so much going on with the band, I just don’t have the time right now. You know I like you Brittany –“

“Brianna,” she corrected him.

He smiled that megawatt smile. “Yeah, Brianna.” He fidgeted a little as if trying to come up with what to say next.

Cori suddenly felt brave and started around the bannister. “Hey Colin,” she purred, smiling at him. “Tonight’s still date night, right?” She winked at him and kept walking, saying “See you at 7,” as she made her way down the stairs. She could still hear their conversation.

“You’re dating someone else! You said you weren’t!” Brianna was angry.

“No, she was just kidding,” Colin pleaded. “I’m not dating anyone. But my door is always open for you Brianna,” he said in the sexy low voice.

“As if,” she sniffed. “Goodbye Colin.” Cori could hear her stomping down the stairs above her. She stifled a laugh.

The week was going by quickly. Cori had joined her parents for dinner at one of their favorite spots and had just gotten home for the evening.

“I must’ve pissed you off pretty good, eating and running the other night.” Colin had opened his door and stood in the doorframe as she walked past.

“What do you mean?” she said with a smile.

“I mean telling that girl it was date night,” he said. She looked at him and there was a grin where she thought there might be anger.

“Hey, I was just doing you a favor. She left, didn’t she?”

“She sure did,” he laughed. “I’m sorry about the other night. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to do. You took the time to cook for me, I could’ve at least stayed and helped clean up.”

“Not a big deal,” she said, unlocking the door. She smiled at him, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. This was all they’d ever have, this banter back and forth, neighbors. She knew how big her crush was every time she saw him with another girl. Why was she attracted to guys she couldn’t have?

“You know,” he said, coming around the bannister towards her, “we could pick it up tonight, maybe watch a movie?”

She hesitated before answering. She had the luxury of the day off tomorrow, a three-day weekend. Ms. Robbins was going out of town and told her to take a break. She had turned the alarm off on her phone the moment she got the news, a Friday to sleep in. She took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “Sure.”

“Great!” he said and when she opened the door, she could feel him behind her he was so close. His woody, musky scent filled her nose. She felt something wash over, something she hadn’t felt for such a long time, a longing. She thought about the girls she’d seen wrapped around him, kissing him.

She’d never wished so badly she was someone else before. Would she ever be comfortable in her own skin, and not so desperate for her sexy neighbor?

As he walked past her into the living room, he ran his hand above her waist and once again, a shock went through them both that nearly knocked them off of their feet. Colin stumbled forward, catching himself on the sofa, Cori bracing against the kitchen counter.

“What the hell is up with your apartment?” he asked, rubbing his hand. “You need to have the super check your power. Something is definitely up.”

She caught her breath. “Maybe that’s my built-in ‘hands off’ alarm,” she said with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to get caught in a trap like those other girls and get all disappointed.” She’d tried saying it as a joke but her voice sounded sad.

“Look, I’m always honest with anyone I’m with. I don’t want anything long term. I like girls, I’m like any other guy. I just don’t have the desire to be with anyone for very long. I tried that once and it didn’t work. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Must’ve gotten your heart broken pretty badly,” she said, trying to hide the sadness from her own failure.

“Against my better judgment I got involved with someone I thought might be the one. I was wrong. We wanted different things. Brought me right back to plan A,’ he said, bending down to look at DVDs on her shelf. “Besides, when the band takes off and we hit the road, the last thing I want is to leave someone behind and not be able to enjoy myself.”

“Well, I’ll give you that. At least you’re honest. And you’re not playing the field while you’ve got a fiancée on the string.” Her voice trailed off and she looked down, pissed at the tears that were burning at her eyes.

He stood up, a concerned look on his face. “Did that happen to you?” he said softly.

“Yes,” she said, barely audible.

“I’m sorry,” he said, really meaning it. “That sucks.”

“It does. And with my best friend, no less.”

“Ouch.”

She looked at him, willing the tears away that were rimming her eyes. “Pretty much almost ended my life, at least it felt like it. All of this, the apartment, the job, it’s just me trying to get a fresh start. It’s like I don’t know where I belong.”

He gave her that adorable half smile. “You seem like a great girl Cori. I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. And if you need someone to get you back in the saddle, I’m always available for a ride,” he smiled.

Her face broke into a smile. “That’s THE worst pick up line EVER!” she laughed and he laughed too.

“Yeah, that was bad even for me,” he said, running his hand through his spikey hair to the back of his neck, letting it linger there. Every move he made turned her on. This was torture.

“Ok,” he said, desperate to change the subject and spinning towards the TV. “I suggest a comedy, nothing too heavy tonight.”

“Agree!” She pulled two bottles of beer from the frig and threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave. When it was done, she joined him and they started the movie. There was no conversation, just laughter. He’d made himself at home on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. She tucked her legs up under her in the chair. She’d made a friend. That was the takeaway. It wasn’t sad, it was happy.

When the movie ended, he cleaned up the beer bottles and popcorn and headed for the door. “This was great, I hope we can do it again.”

“Me too,” she said with a smile.

“Hey, what are you doing Saturday night?”

She wished she had a fabulous night planned, but the truth was it would be her, her jammies, some wine and a good book. “Nothing really,” she said.

“Great! Come down to Rap’s. The band is playing at 8. It’s just down the street.”

“I know it, Rapscallion’s, right?”

“Yeah, it’s going to be a big weekend for us. We’re playing a festival Saturday afternoon and at Rap’s on Saturday night.”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I’m glad you’re back on track.”

“Yeah, it feels good,” he said. “So you’ll be there Saturday?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

He clapped his hands together. “Awesome.” He stepped up to the door, gave her a wave and left.

Cori suddenly felt deflated. The biggest player on the planet just spent the evening with her and didn’t even try to make a move on her. Of course she’d been an idiot and acted uninterested. But she should be uninterested, she’d been down this road before.

Saturday would be fun. She’d get a friend to go with her. Who knows, maybe she’d meet someone more in her league.

[heli0s-writes]

Flavor of the Day

Summary: You never know what’s going to rile you up next. Pairings: Bucky x Reader A/N: Word count 1.5k-- and apparently I’m into the intimate act of getting a haircut.

Bag of Tricks One Shot Masterlist

Some things just get you riled up.

Stupid things, mostly. Things that bubble out of the incomprehensible blue of your mind. Innocuous things, sometimes things that made most others unwell: Sam picking up the corner of the couch to grab the remote, Maria wiping lipstick off her teeth disdainfully, goddamn Smurfette talking Smurf gibberish to Papa Smurf.

It was always a mixed bag.

So, when the bomb explodes on a regular Wednesday afternoon recon mission in the flat ghost town prairie of Gun Barrel, Texas of all places, a sudden tickle travels up your spine.

Destruction, apparently, is the flavor of the day.

Bomb aside, Texas is the pits when you’re not in a major city. Hours and hours of driving, your thighs chafing in the back of the mini-van, stupid easy-listening crooning because Steve can’t stand any excitement. Grumpy old fuck.

There hadn’t even been any sights to see, other than cows of enormous sizes, dilapidated barns, flat, straight, endless pasture, and—

“Hey!” You had yelled, pointing.

“What?” Two voices replied, whipping around to see what your exclamation was meant for.

Bucky scoffed when he realized your smashed finger against the window had been pointing to the swirls of yellow flaxen threads piled atop each other: hay.

You thought it was hilarious. Steve, spitefully, turned up the warble of ancient, sizzling-static, sometimes accompanied by a shrill voice. Bucky leaned his seat back until it hit your knees.

“Grumpy old fucks.” You muttered, drowned out by terrible noise.

So, again, when the bomb explodes and levels the top floor, you are aching for something good. Rubble crashes from the ceiling, tearing cavernous holes in the current room while an alarm blares, dousing the entire place in abrupt and flashing red. Your blood is rushing, heart beating madly to the rhythm of the siren’s shriek.

Gunfire erupts from the next room where Steve is, but you either must make it to the stairwell and survive, or chance being crushed with him.

Risk, you realize with a ferocious grin, is the flavor of the day.

You barrel through the door, taking it completely off its hinges and sink your knife into the man scrambling to get Cap. It rips him neck to his goddamn tailbone and the eggshell-white notches of his vertebrae slip out to greet you.

“Hell!” Steve screams, “Is that fucking necessary!?”

He pushes you roughly out the collapsing room and nearly throws you down the stairwell. There’s some smart comment or another that gets lobbed at him, but Steve prudently ignores it and your voice ebbs away when you are launched down three flights of stairs. Bucky is stepping fast paced by the thirteenth story.

You gasp for breath and put one hand on his shoulder, “Race ya.”

Steve’s heavy boots land with a thud, breaking up the moment. An enormous piece of drywall crumbles and sprinkles dust and fire from above.

“Move!”

Your arms break out in goosebumps when Bucky grabs the back of your suit and takes you down.

-

Wednesday night in a shared hotel suite sheds too much light on your problem. An itch that can’t be scratched, sitting on a queen-sized bed while two others smush up on the pull out because of some old-fashioned boy-chivalry.

You take the last shower to relieve the frustration, feeling somewhat sated when you emerge bright pink from scrubbing. The robe is tied loosely, and you slip into the kitchenette to find a snack, tiptoeing through the dark shadows so neither of them will be bothered.

The mini fridge has tiny bottles of vodka and a chocolate bar and they all get tucked under your arm. When you turn around, Bucky is peeking over your shoulder.

“Goddamn, Barnes! I almost shit myself!”

He catches your pilfered treasures deftly in his hand and set them on the counter. The fridge door swings open limply, yellow light reflecting the lines of his face, confused and a little bewildered by the spread of alcohol and candy.

You quirk your head too, because one side of his mane is singed off. “From the fire?” Your wry smile tells him it’s as bad as he thinks it is, and Bucky frowns, running his hand through, clenching his fist around the frayed ends. "Do you want me to trim the rest?"

For the first time that you’ve known him, he looks like a little boy, almost petulantly so and a little flutter in your stomach gives you pause. Lingering behind him, your fingers reach up to grip his hair, catching the uneven strands between them. He still smells like smoke even after his shower. The ashy scent mingles with the hotel complimentaries—dusty cedar and pine notes accompanied by gunpowder. Clean sweat that is purely boy.

Because Bucky always keeps a knife on him, he wordlessly places one in your open palm and sits down on the floor silently.

“Where’s Cap?” You ask, surprised when your voice comes out unsteady.

The first handful slices through with a whistle and Bucky tenses under your touch. “Went out.” He replies. Another strip comes clean off and you work to even the edges, cutting in delicate motions. “Watch the ears.” Bucky warns as you crawl around him on your knees.

“What? You need ‘em?”

The long side is clipped to match the burned side, and your fingers slowly slide upwards, palm rubbing against his scalp, strands pinched. A few more cuts and then you begin to even out the back, smiling slightly at the softness of his dark locks.

Bucky leans into your hand with a slow hum, and you poke his neck with the handle of the knife to straighten him out—to give him distance from you. Or to give you distance from him.

He grumbles when you fist his hair again, tucking the knife into the front waistband of your underwear and shuffle around to look at the front. With two hands, you pinch the sides and fluff the top, moving tufts left and right to ascertain the correct way to part his hair. They all looked about the same.

“Well, it’s not bad—but I’d certainly get it redone later.”

He’s peering at you with half a frown and a furrowed brow, and you shrug in response, pushing your hand forward one last time nearly out of habit now. When Bucky suddenly sighs with your palm over his head, your eyes widen and you come to the third realization:

Bucky, apparently, is the flavor of the day.

The two of you stare at each other in the dim light of the kitchenette floor. It probably wasn’t a good idea to chop off all his hair in the dark, but all of that is out the window now as you blink at him. With it away from his cheeks, he looks changed.

Strikingly handsome.

The overhead light starts to flicker, showing you his face in half-second pulses. He blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens ever so gently.

Then the door swings open with a clatter and Steve announces his return with three grease-soaked bags of fast food plopped on the counter. “You two okay? Is that a knife in your—Jesus! Will ya cover up?”

You hadn’t noticed that the front of your robe has fallen open, revealing the sheer bralette and underwear with Bucky’s knife tucked in the front. As Steve sputters and turns around, pulling out his meal, Bucky reaches forward and takes his blade from your hip, bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

His eyes lock on yours as he moves forward onto his knees. You’re trapped in his gaze, unaware of his hands tugging on the front of your robe, pulling it shut. Steve’s body lands heavily onto the couch, and the crashing of its back against the wall rips you from the moment. Your eyes flutter, searching Bucky for answers.

He gives you nothing but a slow sweep of his tongue in the corner of his mouth. His lips purse, breath escaping in a tiny, hot, pant.

Then slowly, he lifts himself up to his feet.

“Hey, Stevie, where’d you park the car?”

Steve perks up from the couch, “Just to the left, why?”

You follow the shape of Bucky’s legs as he steps out of the kitchenette, turning ever so slightly to look down at your crouched form still on the floor. He tucks his knife back into its sheath.

“We’re going out for a bit.”

You nearly plant face-first getting to your feet, toes slipping against the scattered dark strands of Bucky’s hair.

“You got a haircut!?” Steve hollers as Bucky yanks the door open. “Buck?” And then he sees you running after, damp cotton robe flapping against your thigh. “Wha—”

The door slams shut before Steve can get another word out and Bucky is pressing you up against its frame, hands underneath your breasts, holding you up. “We’re not goin’ anywhere,” he whispers before scraping his teeth against your collarbone, “I’m gonna fuck you in the car.”

Holy shit.

Bucky pulls you along by the band of your top, not giving a fuck if your tits fall out in the middle of the parking lot.

Apparently, you think, with a shudder as he looks back mischievously, you are Bucky’s flavor of the day.

[mastrmiscellaneous]

Profile

Name: Ella Croft

Godly Influence: Legacy of Vulcan, follower of Ptah

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Welsh, Roman, American

Birthday: 13th March, 1997

Age: 14 – when starts Egyptian Magic

Height: 5’5”

Build: slim, with surprising but subtle curves, slight muscle from working with tools and the little exercise she gets

Hair: Pale blonde, cut short, just under her ears, with a thick, floppy, fluffy tuft at the top partially flicked up, and a fringe parted to the left partially covering her left eye

Eyes: muted forest green, large and round

Skin/Complexion: pale, very clean

Face Shape: angled jaw with hight cheekbones and a curved square jaw

Skills:

· Magic –

o Portals

o Glamour control

o Surveillance magic

o Machine Manipulation

o Summoning magic

o Basic Combat Magic

· Normal –

o fixing things

o extreme knowledge of clocks and time pieces

o large knowledge of lighting and light-based infrastructure

o expert knowledge of Osteological knowledge

o takes in surroundings quickly

Weapon:

· a slim, lightweight, birch wood staff with the upper half of a femur bone attached to the top

· an Imperial Gold set of tools for work

· Eventually – a roman style gladius named Tempus Flecte she made herself

Attire:

· Dijon yellow baggy tshirt

· Oversized black zip-up hoodie, with a muted dark red hood, cuffs, and trim

· greyish blue baggy jeans

· light grey leather gloves, lined with white satin

· reddish brown converse with black toe tips and soles

· brown suede satchel that holds her tools, stim toys, and headphones in it constantly, among other things

· golden pocket watch with a pearlescent face on a chain around her neck

Bio:

Ella was born in New Rome to a son of Vulcan, Jack Croft, and an Anthropologist, Tabitha Croft. She was raised in the Roman city, yet never felt completely at home there. Too much was constantly going on, and being Autistic did not help. It was too loud and crowded, too much was happening and it overstimulated her a lot. She never felt like she fit in, she wasn’t a fighter, and never felt incredibly connected to the Roman way of life. That was, until the year after the events of the Prophecy of Seven, when the four worlds met and made their existence known. This was when she felt a connection to the Egyptians, and started studying Egyptian Magic, dedicating herself to the God of Craftmanship, Ptah.

Ella has three particular special interests; Clocks and Time Pieces, Osteology, and Light Features. She often gets distracted by these topics, and will go on long rants about the intricacies of the topic if allowed. She wears a pocket watch around her neck as she finds the rhythmic ticking soothing, and often helped her if she was getting overstimulated. As long as she could concentrate on the ticking, she could stay grounded long enough to retreat somewhere safe. she stims by fiddling with thing in her hands, and by using a short string of lights, just staring at them and fiddling with the wire to make the lights move.

When she was 14, The House of Life, along with representatives from Camp Half Blood and Hotel Valhalla, came to New Rome and made a truce agreement, agreeing to help each other, and allow each world to convene and make the world a better, safer place for all. Ella introduced herself to the Brooklyn House and explained her connection to Egyptian Magic. They agreed to help her train, and she went on to spend the summers in the Brooklyn house. In the Brooklyn House, she met a strange, powerful boy of the name Ethan Moriarty, who came to her when he needed a watch fixed. They became fast friends, along with befriending Pollen Vice, Host of Serqet, and Myles Windheilm.

On their life quest to find themselves, Ella and Ethan grow ever stronger, in their magic and their relationship. Ethan reveals his true self, and Ella proves herself to be not just a brilliant Magician, but a true Roman. Her and her new friends quest for greatness and acknowledgment, earning pride and confidence along the way.

Ella acts as an ambassador for the Egyptian Magicians in New Rome, allowing the Magicians access to New Rome and making sure they get treated well in inter-pantheon debates and agreements.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

SC - Family Ties

Well that last upload was a huge bust so I APOLOGIZE but I’m putting it out again. This is in response to a prompt ask by the lovely @rufinagertrude SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE POST.

A mostly-direct sequel to this piece, 3078 words, set after that very uncomfortable conversation between Alex and her father.

-----

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” said Alex, for the third time in almost as many hours.

She and Tahir stood at the edge of a sagging little homestead just past the edge of Poole’s city limits, watching the door from the safety of its meandering fenceline. Alex had cut them a path from harborside at a pace just shy of jogging, and put the city’s crowded boulevards behind them in less than an hour. Now she stood motionless at the gate, frozen, her hands gripped around two of the pickets with enough force to turn her knuckles white.

“He might not be home,” Tahir said after a moment, nudging her gently with an elbow. “He’s got a business of some manner, doesn’t he? It might even keep him away sometimes.”

“As likely as I am to be named the next king of England,” Alex muttered, but something about the words loosened her grip on the fence posts. She took a deep breath, then squared her shoulders and prodded the gate beside them open with the toe of her boot.

“Stay behind me,” she warned Tahir as she slipped in ahead of him. “They’re like to frighten if you appear on their doorstep unannounced.”

Tahir snorted. “The captain flatters me with his kind regard of my appearance.”

“Oh, belay all of that.” The look she spared him over a shoulder was half apologetic, half wry. “You know I mean it as a slight against their delicate sensibilities more than any aspect of yours."

“So you do mean some slight against me, then?”

Alex rolled her eyes, but Tahir caught the edges of a smile on her lips as she turned away.

The lane leading up to the house with a trim little thing, overgrown near the edges like whoever tended it couldn’t be bothered to finish their job. The same was true of most of the lawn, in fact; Tahir could see the edges of flower beds and half-grown vegetable patches peeking out from between tufts of grass, of wildflowers, of weeds. It folded back into something near-groomed as they drew closer to the house, but Tahir thought that was more the work of the pair of goats lingering near the fenceline than anything their owners had managed. He opened his mouth to say so, but one look at Alex told him that if she had noticed it at all, she wasn’t ready to do much more than turn on her heel and sprint back into the city.

She stopped a few feet away from the door, her shoulders as stiff and rigid as stone.

“We’re not staying,” she said after a moment, turning over her shoulder to pin Tahir with a glare like she expected him to argue. “Politeness and the like can hang. If they offer coffee, or dinner, or anything else -”

“Then I shall remind you of some pressing horseshit that needs your tending,” Tahir finished with a roll of his eyes. “Take heart, Alex. There’s not a thing on God’s green Earth that I want less than to find out where you’ve gotten your sense of taste.”

Alex blinked, and Tahir watched as her face flashed with a brief panoramic of emotions; offense, relief, confusion, a bright, powerful something almost like pride that lingered for a split second too long to hide. Then she huffed, and combed them all back into a drab little smile.

"And here I didn’t imagine something as simple as taste could stop you from eating clear through anyone’s larder.”

Tahir grinned. “Hey, now! Am I supposed to just take that lying down? Keep teasing and I just may leave you to tend this on your own -”

“Tend what?”

They both wheeled as another voice drifted out of the shadow of the house beside them, soft and quiet as a breeze. The boy it belonged to stood knee deep in a thicket of weeds, watching them with a placid sort of interest, a freshly varnished wooden soldier clutched in one hand. He looked to be about six by Tahir’s estimation, a stocky thing with dark, thoughtful eyes that seemed like they had been shaped by God to be perfectly suited for peering up from beneath the too-large brim of the hat he wore. A very familiar look from beneath a very familiar hat, Tahir realized with a start. Suddenly it was everything he could do not to laugh.

“Denny," Alex said, her voice soft with a mix of relief and surprise. She spared Tahir a single glare over her shoulder to silence him, then cleared her throat and swept into a deep, exaggerated bow.

“Begging your pardon, Master Sheffield,” she said. "We didn’t mean to interrupt you, or the, ah, decorated gentleman in your company.” She gestured to the toy soldier with a little smile, and the boy’s face split into a grin. “I do believe that I have left something in your care, however accidentally. You haven’t seen anything unusual lying about, have you? Anything that perhaps didn’t belong to you?”

Denny’s wide grin grew even wider, and he clutched the edges of the hat down around his ears, giggling. “Nooo.”

“No?” Alex's frown was perfect theater. “Damnation. And I was so certain that I’d left it here. You’re sure you haven’t seen it, then? It’s about so wide -” She put her hands a few span apart, mere inches away from Denny’s face, to the exact width of the hat that he was currently hiding beneath. “- about so wide, you see, and made of a fine black felt, with a feather pinned on the crown. Nothing like that? You’re very sure?”

Denny shook his head again, his cheeks glowing painfully red with the force of his grinning. Tahir sympathized; he was just shy of biting at his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Well,” said Alex with a sigh. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped, then. Come along, Tahir. We’ll take a look back through the Ranger and hope it reveals itself to us sooner or -”

“It’s here!” The boy, unable to keep his wits, finally broke into a fit of giggling, and let go of the hat’s brim so that it sprung back into place. “It’s here, see? I’ve got it!”

Alex turned slowly back to face him, her smile fighting between fond and wry.

“Well now,” she said. “So you have. May I?”

She held out a hand and suddenly, the theatrics vanished; captain Alex Sheffield had returned. Denny bowed his head slightly as he tugged the hat off and gingerly placed it into her waiting hand. Alex’s smile softened, all fondness now.

“There’s a lad,” she said, ruffling his hair with one hand as she pressed the hat back onto her head with the other. It seemed to Tahir to look not very much different on her than it had on Denny. “You know not to lie except for this sort of fun, don’t you?”

“Yes,” the boy said, suddenly as pious as a priest, folding both hands in front of him. Tahir coughed to hide his laugh. Alex snorted.

“A lucky thing that nothing depends on my believing you. Now, we’ve intruded long enough. You have my thanks, Denny, and you’ll pass them on to -”

“Are you really a captain?”

The question came without preamble, like he’d only just remembered to ask it, with a frown and a twist of the wooden soldier in his hands. Alex’s expression flickered.

“I am,” she said slowly. And then, with a thin smile, added, “You’ve seen my hat, haven’t you?”

"Well, I know," Denny huffed, exasperated as only a scorned six year old could be. “But father, he said you couldn’t be. He said, he said you couldn’t be, because a girl can’t be a captain!”

It felt all at once like the air had been siphoned away from the lawn around them. Tahir sucked a breath through his teeth and stole a glance sidelong; Alex was the disquieting sort of still, a predator in sight of prey.

A heartbeat passed. Two.

Then she sighed, with a resignation that made Tahir’s heart do something painful and wrenching deep in his chest.

“Well, now,” she said, forcing a smile that should have rightly cracked her face in two, “it is a mightily good thing that your father doesn’t know me well, isn’t it? I’m not a girl, Denny. Nor a woman, nor a man. Rather just myself, understand? And… and too fine at my trade to be kept from it, anyway.”

“Oh.” Denny’s brow furrowed, but Alex’s words seemed to align with whatever opinion he’d begun forming in his head because after a moment, he nodded. “Okay. I guess, well...I guess you can be a captain, then.”

Alex huffed a strangled little laugh. “Well, I should hope so, or you would set my mate here to the very difficult task of telling the crew that their pay is as imaginary as its tender. I don’t envy your position in that, Tahir.”

She turned a glance his way, and the look there begged - no, commanded him to play along. He managed a dutiful chuckle, conjured from memory and absolutely fuck all else.

“You’ve, ah, not gone see-through yet, I’m afraid."

“Not to you, anyway,” Alex muttered under her breath, then cleared her throat and swept back to where Denny’s wide, too-thoughtful eyes waited. “Now, lad, we really ought to be away. You've my thanks for keeping an eye on my hat. Next we’re in port, I’ll come and you can see -”

She paused, blinking like she hadn’t expected those particular words to leave her. Denny’s eyes immediately went as wide as tea saucers.

“Your ship?” he asked, his voice quivering with excitement. “I can see your ship? Please? Please?"

The look that Alex turned to Tahir this time was begging, and it pleased him very much to be able to shrug, and to bite down on a grin when she cursed him with her eyes.

Eventually, though, she ran out of ways to glare him into an early grave, and turned with a sigh to take an unsteady knee at Denny’s side. The boy straightened like a soldier suddenly called to attention.

“Perhaps," she said slowly, "if you speak to your father, he might be keen to teach you what little he knows of sailing. Perhaps, if you tell me what you’ve learned when next I’m here, there may be a place at the wheel for you. But only if you learn, hey? I've no patience nor room for untrained deckhands on my ship."

Denny was nodding before she finished, so furiously that it scattered the fair curls on his head into a proper mess. Alex’s smile came back like a crack forming in stone, fond even in piecemeal. She ruffled the boy's hair to further cement the damage he’d done to it, then heaved back onto her feet.

"Right," she said, straightening. “You’re to set yourself to learning; I’ll have the Ranger ready and waiting for you when next we make port. Reasonable accommodations on both sides. Do we have an accord, Master Sheffield?”

The boy swung himself into something that very nearly resembled a salute. “Yes!”

“Very good!" Alex's own salute was the more seamanly sort, accented with a jaunty tip of her hat and a slight bow. "Then we will be away this very minute, so that we may return all the faster. By your leave, sir."

"By your leave!" Denny cried, parroting the words - and when Tahir looked back, his much improved salute - with greater and greater enthusiasm as they started down the lane. "By your leave! By your leave!"

By the time they reached the gate, the boy had turned and was trundling off towards the back of the house, still excusing their exit to someone Tahir couldn't see. He chuckled quietly to himself.

"Stirring the tar in his blood already," he mused as Denny's shouts fell out of earshot. "Just what I'd expect from any brother of yours."

"Half brother," Alex muttered. Her mood, which had held for their short walk to the road, had gone immediately black again. “And that is being charitable. Hell and all, I don’t know why I told him I’d come back here…”

“He’s a child, Alex,” Tahir said, irritation twinging at the back of his neck. “And keen for your attention, besides. Surely you can spare him and all of us the act of pretending you’re not taken with him.”

“Act?” Alex looked up, genuine offense painted into the furrows of her brow. “What act? Of course I'm taken with the boy. I’ve only just met him properly, and I’d as soon see the world and every goodly treasure in it burned before disappointing him. But he’s my father’s son if he’s anything at all, Tahir. Knowing him means accounting for the opinion of good Mister Sheffield, and I would hang before -”

“Before you trouble yourself with it?” The little itch on Tahir’s neck swelled into a fire. “Well, isn’t that a sensible fucking thought. What a revenge you'll have! Allowing your father to keep his fool poor regard of you, while you give up the chance to know the only kin what has any regard for you at all -"

“And what else would you have me do?” Alex suddenly appeared in front of him, her voice one shade away from shouting. “Shall I defy him? Take visits with the boy at leisure, without his blessing? Give no heed to what happens after I’ve left? After everything that’s passed between us, do you truly imagine that my father would look fondly on the boy that takes a shine to me?"

Something in her cracked on the word; she stepped back as it left her, turning so the wide brim of her hat swept low across her face. Tahir suddenly felt his anger cool, then flee all the way down to his feet.

“You think your company will call your father’s wrath on him,” he said quietly. A soft snort came from beneath the edge of the hat.

“Wrath? No. No, my father would never raise a hand to a child. But Denny is the bright sort. Eager. Keen on approval. I was too, at his age.” Another sigh came from behind the hat’s brim, long and heavy. “It is a… profoundly unhappy thing, for a child like that to be ignored by someone he'd like to please. I wouldn’t see Denny come within a league of the path I walked, Tahir. Not for anything.”

She turned back after a moment - eyes dry, expression held carefully steady - but Tahir didn’t need a near-decade’s worth of experience with Alex Sheffield to see the effort it cost her. Shame began its warm ivy-creep up the back of his neck. Hadn't they fought this battle before? Hadn't she made it clear, as recently as last night, even stumbling drunk and grieving, that she wasn't running away again? Hadn’t he learned?

"Aw, hell,” he muttered, rolling back onto his heels with a sigh. Alex glanced up just in time to brace herself before he stepped forward and collared her into a fierce hug. He felt her shoulders stiffen against his arms, but she didn’t try to pull away until he did.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he had righted himself. “You’re right, of course. I haven’t got the slightest notion how to manage your father. I’ve been fortunate to have never enjoyed his company. I just… I know the look that boy was giving you. Been on the receiving end of it myself, for how sorely I haven’t deserved it.”

“Your sisters,” Alex said quietly.

“And Mihail. I’ve as good as lost any chance of knowing him. Of knowing any of them, understand? I wouldn’t have seen you lose that, not if you wanted it and not if I could help it. And Christ, Alex, you wanted it. When you said you might give it up just to avoid your father, well…”

“You should know better that I would irritate my father for the simple pleasure of it, were that all I had to consider,” Alex said, and the stinging note of affront in her voice made Tahir wince. Then she sighed, her shoulders sagging like a weight suddenly let go. “I can’t say I don’t agree, though. Not entirely. Perhaps my father is only half as vengeful as I imagine. Perhaps I take my leave for good, and leave Denny to be ignored by quite everyone around him. Perhaps nothing at all comes of my company, and I’m free to watch Ade fall over herself about the boy. It’s all as much as guessing.”

“Ah,” Tahir hummed, smothering a grin. Alex had begun invoking Adelina’s name; something in their conversation had started to soothe the rawest of her nerves. “A problem, I see. Worse, a problem best solved by turning it over and over until you put yourself into a fit! Lucky that I’ve been assured those are a specialty of yours.”

Alex’s mouth twitched towards a smile. “Tahir.”

“No, no! Don’t pay me any mind. I’ve said my piece. Now that you’ve heard it, I expect you’ll be wanting a room to fret in for the next several months while you figure it out - ow!” He flinched away as Alex shoved him hard in the ribs, laughing. “Hey now, no need for that. I’m simply paying you my every assurance that you’ll find some solution to this mess. I could imagine no one better suited.”

“And I can think of no advice less helpful than ‘you’ll figure something out.’”

“Oh no,” said Tahir with a grin. “No, I’m rather done with advice of any sort. You saw my last try at meddling, didn’t you? No, I think I’ll put my full confidence in the opinion that Denny has stumbled into the best possible hands.”

“I expect you’ll come to regret that,” Alex said with a roll of her eyes. “What if I do win him over? Or if he takes to sailing as I did? What makes you of the notion of the pair of us? Of ‘Captain Dennis Sheffield,’ eh?”

Tahir shrugged. “Suits very well, I think.”

Alex snorted, but even the brim of her hat couldn’t hide the little smile that stole its way onto her face as she turned and started back towards the city.

“Aye,” Tahir heard her say, very softly. “Suits very well, indeed.”

[promisedangel]

Fresh Meat: Confinement- Chapter 20

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Chapter 20- Intentions

Undyne walked the stone streets of New Home with the intruder’s picture in hand. She was thankful for the newfound hustle and bustle of the city. A few monsters browsed the stores. A handful of children chased one another with glee. Life had begun to return to monsterkind. A far cry from a few weeks earlier. Her expression turned downcast as she remembered these same streets when she spent a night over at Sans and Papyrus’s old place. The streets were almost silent then. Miserable shop keepers tried to sell their trinkets and wares to disinterested or energy deficient monsters. No children laughed or played. Undyne’s mind returned to the present. A subtle smile returned to her face. It wasn’t perfect, but it was an improvement.

Undyne approached one of the monsters with the intruder’s picture, “Scuse me.” The monster perked up before they replied calmly, “Ah, yes. What can I do for you miss guardsman?” Undyne lifted the picture, “Do you know this monster?” The monster carefully examined the picture for a moment. They frowned and shook their head, “Sorry. Not them in particular.” Undyne’s fins drooped as gave a resigned sigh, “Well… thanks for your time.” Undyne turned to leave. The monster perked up, “W-Wait! I think I might know somehow who could be related!” Undyne’s fins perked up immediately. She turned back towards the monster. She asked with a large smile, “Awesome! Do you know where that monster lives?” The monster pointed down the street, “I think… I few blocks that way. Then I think you turn right and go down two more blocks? Somewhere in that area, I think.” Undyne shrugged, “Well, that’s better than what I’ve been getting so far. Thanks!”

The monster silently waved goodbye to Undyne as she continued onward. She followed the monster’s directions. The streets had turned from shops to towers of homes akin to apartment buildings. Fewer monsters walked these streets, but what little were out and about still seemed content. She approached monsters one by one with the same questions. After three more monsters, she had her answer; the intruder’s home. Undyne climbed stairs in a large apartment building deep within New Home. She approached the door to one apartment. She paused. A grimace. Worrying thoughts burrowed into her mind. What if this family was in on the attempt? Undyne shook those thoughts away. No. They’d have gone with him to help in kidnapping the kid. She ignored any of those thoughts and took a deep breath to steel herself. She had to remain focused.  Undyne knocked on the door thrice. A feminine voice perked up, “Oh! Just a moment!” She heard a masculine voice mutter, “Who the fuck could that be?” The feminine voice shushed, “Don’t be rude, Ruindi.”

The lock clicked before the door slowly swung open. Undyne took in the sight of a svelte, lizard-like monster. Not a single hair on her. Her violet scales glistened in the candlelight of the apartment, though many were now far past their luster. Her long tail dragged on the floor. She dressed in a thick peach robe. This monster crooked her head in confusion for a second as she answered the door. It only took a second for her always open eyes to widen in recognition of Undyne’s armor. She stood in attention, “Oh! Hello there!” She curled down submissively, “What um… what can I do for you, miss guardsman?” Before Undyne could speak, papers rustled in the background. The masculine voice spoke, “What the fuck is the Royal Guard doing here?!” Undyne’s gaze shifted to deeper into the apartment. She saw a stouter monster approach. His face was rounded like his mother. His scaled skin was a deep forest green with hints of violet. His tail was stubby but still scaled. Small tufts of purple hair protruded from under the scales. Long claws protruded from his fingers, but the ones on his toes were trimmed carefully.

Undyne’s gaze returned to the female monster. She cleared her throat and spoke calmly, “I um… I’m sorry to disturb-“ The female monster began aghast, “No! Never any trouble for someone of the Royal Guard to visit!” Ruindi scoffed, “Only if we’re not in trouble.” The female monster shot a glare at her son before she turned back to Undyne, “Sorry about him, he’s cranky when he’s hungry and… well… you get the idea. I’m Rita and this is one of my sons, Ruindi. What can I do for you, miss guardsmen?” Undyne held up the intruder’s picture, “Does this monster live here?” Rita examined the picture for a moment before she gave a confused look, “Yes. That’s my younger son, Kurt. Did you need to speak with him?” She turned to Ruindi, “Ruindi, could you go get your brother?” Ruindi rolled his eyes, “He never came back last night.” Rita’s eyes widened. She sputtered, “What?!”  Undyne grimaced, “Yeah. That’s why I’m here. Before I really get into it, I need to tell you that he’s dead.”

Both Ruindi and his mother paled. Their jaws dropped slightly. The two were silent for a moment. Rita spoke quietly in her shock, “D-dead?” Tears poured from her widened, shocked eyes. She dropped to the ground in quiet sobs. Thanks to his mother’s sobs, Ruindi’s shocked face quickly boiled to anger. He approached the doorway with a growl, “What the hell happened to him?! He was fine last night so he couldn’t have fallen down that quickly! Did someone kill him?!” Undyne stood firm, but spoke in a sympathetic tone, “Yeah. I did.” Ruindi quickly got in Undyne’s face and flashed his fangs. Undyne looked down at him calmly and did not move. He spoke in a low, menacing tone, “You better have a good explanation for that, you bitch!” Rita grabbed her son’s leg, “Stop!” Undyne and Ruindi looked down at Rita. She composed herself somewhat as she spoke, “She… she must have only done it because it was her job. Let her explain herself.” Ruindi paused as he looked down at his mother. He shot a glare at Undyne for a moment. He lifted his arm, winding a punch. His arm limped to his side with a sigh, “Fuck this.” Undyne frowned before he took a few steps back in a huff. He crossed his arms and glared daggers at Undyne silently. Undyne leaned down. She extended a hand to Rita. Rita’s expression contorted. Mixed between distrust, submissiveness, and anguish. She sniffled, “I… I can’t take your hand until I hear an explanation.” Undyne stood tall once more. She cleared her throat and spoke gently, “Last night… I was called into Dr. Gaster’s lab by the human’s caretaker, Alphys. She said someone had broken in and was trying to track down the kid. I was able to get there… as he was trying to bash down the kid’s door.” Rita’s expression solidified into horror, “Kurt… he tried to steal the human?!” Rita stood. She sputtered, “B-But why? I don’t understand… but…” She held her head, “Why…” Ruindi relaxed slightly. He gave a look of shock and disbelief, “Shit, he was serious?” Undyne shot a serious glance at Ruindi. She cursed silently as she dreaded the answer to her next question. She asked in a serious tone, “You know something about this attempt?” Rita’s mouth dropped. Her gaze flitted between Ruindi and Undyne. Ruindi’s head dipped. He rubbed his neck as he confessed, “Before he left last night, we were taking care of our little sister, Susie.”

Undyne’s fins twitched at the mention of the sister. Gaster’s orders echoed in the back of her mind. She focused and said nothing. Ruindi continued unabated, “She’s… not in great shape. But she can still walk and stuff, it just takes a lot out of her, so she sleeps a lot.” Undyne’s mind drifted for a moment. She frowned, “I think I understand. I gotta friend who's in a similar condition. He crumples back down if he stands up too fast.” Ruindi gave a confused expression, “Yeah… Exactly like that…”

Rita interjected, “Now wait just a minute! You walk in here and say that my son tried to do this… admittedly horrible thing and you killed him for it! I want proof of this accusation!” Undyne held up the picture, “This picture was taken inside Dr. Gaster’s lab through the cameras he has in there and the area surrounding the lab. It was a restricted area, too.” Rita leaned against the doorframe. Disbelief and shock returned to her face. Tears began to well. Her fists shook fiercely. Undyne saw but did nothing. All the while, Ruindi looked at the picture and said nothing. He continued to stew in his anger at Undyne. Undyne sighed, she spoke despondently, “Look. This is a bad situation. And I probably made it worse by being the one sent out to question you two.” Ruindi grumbled, “Damn right.” Undyne continued, “You’re right to be mad, fuck, I’d be mad if someone who killed someone close to me showed up on my doorstep. I’ll just… leave and send someone else to question you-“ Rita quickly grabbed Undyne’s arm. Undyne looked back, frozen. She really didn’t want to hurt Rita, but she didn’t know what Rita would do. Rita glared at Undyne and spoke with venom, “You’re not going anywhere until you explain yourself.” Undyne groaned, “I did explain myself! Dr. Gaster ordered the Royal Guard to immediately arrest anyone who got close to the human without permission. If they resisted or continued, we have to kill them! Without that kid, we’re all dead.” Rita’s expression deflated. She still had a firm grip on Undyne’s arm. Rita sighed as her expression became somber, “So that’s how it is…” Undyne turned back to Rita and spoke gently, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I’ll probably carry this the rest of my life. You need to be interviewed to make sure you’re not a part of this.” Undyne turned and tried to move her arm out of Rita’s grip, “You don’t want to deal with me, understandably. I’ll tell Dr. Gaster to send someone else.” Ruindi growled, “Good. Leave. It’ll be better to hunt you down.”

Rita whipped back and glared at Ruindi, “You. Shut up.” Ruindi went pale. He looked away and stood stiffly, nervously. Rita looked back at Undyne, “If you need questions answered, we’ll answer them now and end this here.” Ruindi turned back around and blinked, “Wait, but she’s-“ Rita glared at her son again, “She may be his killer, but she’s still a Royal Guard. If we answer her questions, we don’t have to see her again.” Rita let go of Undyne’s arm. She widened the door and stepped aside. She motioned for Undyne to come inside, “Let’s get this over with.” Undyne blinked. She was unsure of what to do. The only thing she could do was walk in the door and continue the conversation.

Undyne walked into the room and noticed two couches facing each other, with a rug and coffee table in between them. On the coffee table was a few choice knick knacks and two books, each with a bookmark in them. One of the walls was filled with pictures, mostly paintings, while another wall was taken over by a large, filled bookshelf. Undyne sat in the corner of the nearest couch. Rita sat next to her while Ruindi sat across from her. Ruindi continued to glare daggers at Undyne, his claws flexed ever so slightly. Undyne cleared her throat, “Alright. So… how did Kurt first react to the distribution of the substitute?” Rita glared at Undyne, but answered in a civil tone, “He was excited at first. He’d watch as a couple neighbors came home with theirs in hand. I never received any notice that we’d receive any, and I told him after the first couple of days. He left and came back later that day. He was not happy.” Undyne pressed slightly, “As in?…” Ruindi butted in, “He was pissed.” Rita sighed, “Yes. He slammed his door shut and didn’t come out for hours. When he did, he still promised Susie she’d get better soon. He’s… been out a lot ever since and he didn’t talk about it. I just assumed he was with some friends, or something. I didn’t ask because he’d leave before I woke up and come back late. Until yesterday, that is. He stayed home all day until early evening.” Undyne nodded, “Did he bring anything home with him at all?” Rita shook her head, “Not that I saw.” Ruindi shook his head, “Didn’t see anything either.” Undyne muttered under her breath, “When did he get the keycard, then?”

Undyne shook off the question and continued, “Did he say anything when he left?” Ruindi shrugged, “Just that’d he be back late.” Rita cradled her head in her hands, “If he came back with the human… I honestly don’t know what I would have done.”Undyne shrugged, “I honestly don’t need to know that. But I do need to know about his friends. Who and where they are.” Rita frowned, “I’m afraid I don’t know.” Ruindi nodded, “Yeah. All his friends I know about are dust. Either before we got trapped down here or after.” Undyne muttered a “Damnit.” before she went to ask another question. 

Before she could, she heard one of the doors creak open. All three monsters looked towards it to see a younger monster exit a room. The first thing Undyne noticed was the messy, shoulder length, dark brown hair of this monster. It flowed around the shoulders and some bangs completely blocked the eyes from view. The skin was a light shade of violet and the skin appeared rough. This monster was dressed in a simple white shirt and comfortable blue slacks. Nestled under the monster’s armpit was a set of makeshift crutches. Rita perked up immediately. She flashed a genuine smile at Susie, “Oh! Susie! I’m sorry, did we wake you?” Undyne frowned. This smaller monster, a young teenager, was the aforementioned sister. Now was the time she needed to tread this conversation cautiously. Susie grumbled, “Sorta. The knock on the door woke me up.” Undyne gave a half smile, “Sorry about that, kid. I-“ Susie shot a glare at Undyne, “I’m not a kid.” Undyne was surprised at Susie’s quick jab, but paid it no mind, “Right. Sorry. It’s Susie, right? I’m Undyne and I’m here to ask you and your family some questions.” Rita stood, “Here. Let’s get you to the couch. Do you need help today?” Susie began to move forward on her crutches, “I’m fine.”

Rita quickly sat back down. The three monsters relaxed in silence as this new addition to the conversation made her way to one of the couches. She settled down next to Ruindi, her crutches to the side of the couch. Ruindi attempted to pull Susie close to him, but Susie swatted his hand away silently. Rita and Ruindi went back to glaring at Undyne. Undyne stayed quiet as well, unsure of how to begin. Susie began after she settled, “I heard only a little. You’re asking about Kurt, right? What happened.” Rita gave a pained expression. She turned to Undyne with a small glare, “I’ll tell her.” Undyne nodded with a sympathetic gaze. She leaned back in her seat and waited. Rita’s expression softened. She spoke to Susie with hesitation, “Susie… Kurt… he did something very bad last night and-“ Susie crossed her arms and interrupted, “What did he do? Mom, just tell it to me straight. I’m not a little kid anymore.” Rita sighed and smiled sorrowfully, “No. You aren’t a kid. Okay. Kurt… he tried to take the human last night… and he’s dead.” For a moment, Susie’s face was blank as she absorbed the information. She cupped her face in her hands, “That… fucking idiot.” Undyne waited for tears, but no sobs came. Susie just covered her face and sat there quietly. After a few moments, Undyne spoke softly, “I know this is a bad situation, but I’m here to prevent it from getting worse. I just need to ask you and your family some questions. Just some honest answers from you three and you probably won’t see me here again.” Ruindi grumbled, “Better be the truth.” Susie sighed deeply. She removed her hands. No tear stains to be seen. Her expression was hard to read, aided by her hidden eyes, but she frowned deeply. Susie spoke with a resigned tone, “Alright. I’ll answer your questions, too.”

Undyne gave a small smile, “Thanks. I’ll start with the important one; did you know anything about Kurt’s plan?” Susie crossed her arms, “He just kept saying that I’ll get better. It got annoying, but he’s that kind of monster. Before he left last night he said I’d be better today, and that he swore it this time. I just kinda laughed it off.” “So, he didn’t even hint that he was going to take the human to you?” Susie shook her head, “Nah.” Ruindi shrugged, “He spoke to me about it, but again, I thought he was joking since he didn’t bring it up again.” Undyne continued, “Did you see him bring anything home? Even small things.” Susie shook her head, “Nope. He’d spend a lot of time with me, which was kinda nice at first, but he became suffocating. I’m glad he went out every day the past week.” Undyne muttered, “That lines up to when the distribution ended… Do you know why he went out?” “No. He didn’t tell me. I dunno what he did or if he met anyone. I thought his last friend died over a month ago.” Undyne raised a brow curiously, “Huh? Who?” Ruindi muttered, “An aaron named Chase. He invited Kurt to go hunting for the human when it was just a rumor.” Rita frowned, “But Susie was really sick that day. He refused so he could help take care of her and make her crutches.” Ruindi continued, “But Chase never came back. No one’s sure what happened to him.” Undyne frowned, “Yeah, I wasn’t involved in those investigations… but I know nothing turned up. Anyway. Is there anyone that can vouch for you all being here yesterday? Just to be safe.” Rita perked up, “Yes! Our next door neighbor! I always have a nice chat with her every day around noon. Makes the day go by quicker. She can vouch for us.” Undyne nodded, “I’ll talk to her briefly after this. Is there anything else you all can think of to tell me to help this investigation?”

Rita and Ruindi froze. Each of them pondered in silence. Susie spoke up, “No. But I got a question. How’d he die?” Undyne’s fins drooped. She was prepared for Susie to treat her the same way as her family had. She spoke simply, “I uh… I killed him. He was trying to bust down the human’s door and wouldn’t stand down. Dr. Gaster expressly gave the Royal Guard orders to arrest anyone who got near the kid without permission, and to kill if they continued or resisted arrest.” Susie frowned as she shifted in her seat, “Whoa. First of all, fuck you for killing him.” Rita smirked, “That’s my girl!” Undyne interjected, “You’re right to be mad at me for killing him. I know I can’t make up for it.” Undyne stood. She walked over in front of Susie and leaned down. She pointed at her own cheek, “So if ya wanna hit me, here’s a free target for ya!” Susie glared at Undyne and wasted no time. The second Undyne finished speaking, Susie threw a punch straight into Undyne’s nose. Undyne was thrown off balance and landed on the coffee table, surprise in her gaze. Rita stood up and shouted with joy, “Good job, Susie!” Susie guffawed, “Man! I’m never gonna get that chance again! She wanted me to hit her!” Ruindi cracked his knuckles, “Keep her down, I want a good kick.”

Undyne began to laugh raucously. The family went still as Undyne guffawed and slowly stood. She had a huge, wide grin on her face after she collected herself. She spoke in a proud voice, “Man! For someone with little energy, you got a pretty decent punch!” The family looked at Undyne with surprise. Undyne looked down at Susie, “With some time and training, you’d make one heck of a Royal Guard!” Susie just stared with a blank expression on her face, “Huh?” Undyne stood tall, “Tell you what; once you get better, and maybe a little older, you come join the Royal Guard! Hell, I’ll even train you for the tests myself!” Rita blinked in disbelief, “Do you… really think she’s that good?!” Undyne grinned at Rita, “She’s got some potential, but I can’t say for sure until she gets better and has more energy.” Susie crossed her arms and turned her head away from Undyne, “Like I’d want to be in the Royal Guard.” Undyne’s smile defended slightly, “Alright, guess you’re cool with turning down the chance to beat up the one who killed your brother.” Susie turned her head back. She turned quiet as the gears turned in her head. Ruindi leaned in and whispered, “Do it, or I will.” She grunted and pushed Ruindi away. Undyne shrugged, “Well, you don’t have to accept it now. You got years to train for it.”

Undyne began to stretch, “Besides, I gotta get going. To me, it’s obvious you three weren’t involved in this other than as a motivation.” Rita rolled her eyes, “Good. Let the door hit you on your way out.” Ruindi stood and stretched, “So, when are we gonna get his dust back?” Undyne began to approach the door, “Should be soon. I’ll make sure his dust gets to you one way or the other.” Susie scoffed, “It’s the least you can do.” Undyne opened the door. She stopped as she heard Susie’s comment. She turned and smirked, “And the least you can do is get better once you do get some of the substitute.” Susie grumbled as Undyne left. Rita and Ruindi relaxed. Tears resumed in Rita’s eyes. Ruindi clenched his teeth and stewed in silence. Susie just sat there, dumbfounded at what just occurred.

———————————————————————————

A knock echoed on the door. Gaster turned away from the cameras and papers. He watched silently as Alphys entered the room. Gaster glared slightly at Alphys, “The results?” Alphys spoke calmly, “All key cards are accounted for. The only ones we don’t have in storage are mine and the six from Serol and his team.” Gaster smirked. He pulled out his cell phone, “Then we have a lead. We will call in Serol’s team immediately for further questioning.” He paused before he finished dialing a phone number. His neutral gaze fell upon Alphys once more, “Don’t let any of them in. Let them use their key cards to enter. If one of theirs is missing, we have our suspect.”

Alphys frowned, “Okay. Um… so, when is someone coming to inspect the crime scene and collect the dust?” “A few members of the Royal Guard should be on their way shortly. Undyne is currently investigating the family of the intruder and will not be with them.” Alphys hesitated. She curled down slightly and asked cautiously, “What’s going to happen to Chara? Are they going to be moved or…” Gaster pondered, “I have thought of a few possibilities. I would rather not keep watch over the human as I will be interviewing Serol’s team myself. Leaving it there, despite my curation, is a risk I’d rather not take.” He sighed deeply, “I suppose I could use the gas to render it unconscious, but that wouldn’t be preferable if the human acts out violently in the future…”

Gaster’s words turned to mumbles as he pondered the situation, now pressed for a decision. Alphys stood for a moment to await such a decision. At that moment, a thought of her own sprung to mind. Her eyes widened in realization. A smile briefly grew on her face. What a wonderful idea! She regained her calm but submissive frown. She knew this one was a toss-up. She perked up, “Um… sir?” Gaster’s mumbles halted. His gaze shifted back to Alphys, “Yes?” Alphys once more spoke cautiously, “What if… I watch Chara? I-I could take them to my room and lock the door. A-and if something happens, I can call you right away!” Gaster’s eye sockets narrowed. A hand went to his chin. He mulled the idea over silently. Alphys’s anxiety slowly grew. Her expression became more nervous. She fiddled with her claws. She silently tried to think of anything else that could convince him. Gaster broke the silence with a firm tone, “If the human leaves your room, or you take it anywhere else, I’ll know.” Gaster turned back to the screens. His fingers dashed across the keyboard. A few of the screens changed to hallway shots. Alphys looked at the screen curiously before her eyes set onto one hallway. It was like the others, but she saw a room with a nameplate in the middle distance of the camera. Her nameplate. Gaster turned back towards Alphys with a dark smile, “Do I make myself clear?” Alphys nodded slowly, “C-Crystal clear, sir. I’ll… go take Chara over right away.” Alphys quickly flew out of the room. Gaster let out a small, amused chuckle as he turned back to his papers.