#keeping the secret for almost a month nearly killed me

[luv-unknwn]

Serene

daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary - ♡ you and daryl go on a run and things dont go entirely as planned....but in a good way

SMUT SMUT SMUT

a/n - ♡ ik this isnt that good i haven't slept and its almost 6 am so i aint editing it anywaysss, im watching the show for the first time rn and i just could NOT resist writing smth for daryl so enjoy!! 🤭

(changed the name cause i realized i forgot to change it so it didn't make sense pls)

"no- god damn it girl gon get us killed out here if you keep lookin round so much" daryl grabbed your wrist to pull you along the muddy trail, nearly falling on your ass from his fast pace. "keep up, quit draggin your feet"

"fuck off man its nice to get out of that damn prison sometimes and see the world even if it is filled with walkers and assholes like you" you snort, pushing forward so you're walking ahead of him. "besides, the slower i walk, the more time we spend together, and i know that you love hanging out with me so much, dont you, D?”

going on runs had become a favorite activity of yours, somehow even with daryl being such a grumpy gus, it was serene. walking through completely empty towns; the opposite of the now packed prison you were living in.

“oh come on, don’t pretend you don't love me” you giggle at daryl's annoyed look. you'd grown somewhat of a crush for daryl in the last months, as much as you wish you hadn't, it's been nice having something to focus on rather than the overwhelmingly loud but silent nights in the prison.

it was the simple head nods as you pass each other, and him asking specifically to take you on runs, always staying in front of you when something goes wrong. those were the things that really fueled this crush, which carol had pointed out to you. you'd honestly always thought there was something going on with those two but when she asked you about how close you and daryl had gotten she assured you they were only best friends.

“ain't got time for your wanderin today girl, lets go-” a twig snaps to your left. “get behind me”

the walker stumbles out from the trees grunting, growling, and drooling toward daryl before he shoots an arrow right into his left eye. not so aware of your surroundings a walker comes out of the trees behind you grabbing onto you, you fight against its hold. just as you get a hand free to reach for your knife, daryl shoots the walker and it falls loudly to the ground.

“-shit” you gasp in big breaths of air. you reach for daryl's arm grabbing hold for stability, “thanks, D.”

“‘course, won't let nothin’ bad happen to you” you practically melt at his words and the vulnerable look in his eyes when he says it, like he's telling you an important secret he's never told anyone else.

you're so close you can feel the heat coming off his body as your eyes move from his to his mouth. never wanting something so bad in your entire life.

he's pulling away before you can even think to move toward him.

“best keep goin ‘fore it gets dark” his words are dismissive, completely ignoring the clear sparks flying between the two of you just seconds ago.

“right, you're right” clearing your throat a bit awkwardly, you speed up so you're walking ahead of him, trying to focus as hard as you can just on the task at hand.

the first few houses you search were pretty much empty save for a can of beans. the next one however had an entire cabinet filled with things you could take back to the prison, but not before you and daryl have a few snacks to refuel for the trip back.

“maybe we should stay the night here? we can hit a few houses on the way back in the morning, it's getting late and i dont wanna be walkin’ back in the dark” you suggest to daryl from the living room of the house.

“‘kay, lets find some blankets n stuff we'll camp out in here” daryl's voice is right behind you when he speaks, startling you from looking at broken picture frames of the family who used to be here.

you managed a makeshift bed on the floor with the few blankets and pillows you found in the bedrooms. you and daryl now laying there staring quietly up at the ceiling.

“were-” daryl starts to say something but stops before he can even get the first word out.

“what is it, D?” you whisper, turning your body so you're laying on your side facing him.

“were you gonna kiss me earlier?” daryl's uncharacteristically hesitant voice whispers into the quiet room.

the air in the room is suddenly thicker than before and the closeness of you and daryl seems almost too close.

“was i- was i gonna kiss you? i mean i don't know you were so close and just you know it's not like i meant t-” you're cut off by daryl suddenly pressing his lips against yours gently, staying unmoving for a few seconds until your brain catches up with you enough for you to kiss back.

the kiss deepens when you reach your hands around his neck to pull him impossibly closer to you, his own hands sliding down from your cheeks to your shoulders to your hips.

“daryl i- i need you,” you whisper against his lips when you pull away a bit for air.

he pulls back farther to look into your eyes.

“you sure ‘bout this?” his voice is genuine, even as his hands are already under your shirt going farther up until he reaches your bra, stilling there while he waits for your answer.

“yes, please daryl” you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about this many times. daryle above you while you're begging for him.

the moment the words left your mouth he was sitting you up to pull your shirt over your head, quickly reconnecting your lips with a moan so low it could have been a growl.

daryl pulled away to reach around you and unhook your bra, letting it fall between you.

“fuck,” he sighed, letting his head fall to your shoulder at the sight of how perfectly your boobs fell naturally.

seconds later you were pushing his vest off and pulling his shirt over his head, throwing it across the room and leaning down to kiss over his muscular shoulders. daryl's hands fell to your boobs while you left reddish-purple spots all over his throat and shoulders.

“lemme get these off baby” he was already unbuttoning your jeans when you rose to your knees to help him pull them down off your ass, sitting back on the floor so he could pull them and your shoes completely off. he was feeling up and down your soft legs, the way he was squeezing your thighs making your core tighten around nothing. “so pretty f'me.”

daryl's hands trailed up your legs to the soft cotton of your panties, he groaned when his rough fingertips grazed the wet spot leaking through them.

“lift ya pretty legs honey” he grunts out, when you listen he pulls your panties down your legs. the cool air of the room hitting your wetness makes you whimper quietly. “s'even prettier than i imagined,”

daryl pushes your knees farther apart to get a better look at you before he bring a finger up to graze your wet entrance, sliding it up to press gentle circles against your clit, making you gasp from the stimulation.

“god that feels good, please don't stop” you're whining when he finally pushes two fingers into you, starting a steady pace while keeping his thumb on your clit moving quicker each second. you're an absolute moaning mess below him, your back arching against him.

“y'like that sweetheart? like how m'fingers feel inside you, yea? y’gonna cum f’me baby?” his words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, your legs shaking around his hand.

“fuck- shit you're g-” you cut yourself off with a louder moan when he quickens the pace of his fingers, “s’good at this”

“c'mon baby, cum f'me, all over my fingers. thats right, good girl.” his words are what push you over the edge, the filthy words mixed in with his gentle praise has you shaking as you ride the intense waves of your orgasm. “such a good girl f'me”

when your breathing starts to slow back to a normal pace you feel daryl pull his fingers out of you and being them up to his lips, sucking your juices off his own fingers.

“that was- wow” you saw still trying to catch your breath, legs not fully stopped shaking either. before daryl can say anything else you're reaching for his belt to undo it.

“no, s'alright. wanted to make you feel good, go to sleep” he says grabbing your t-shirt and pulling it over your head.

“but-”

“nah if ya really feelin’ up for it, in the mornin’ you can, but we gotta get some sleep tonight” daryl leans over and kisses your forehead and pulls you down to lay on his chest.

and that's exactly how you woke up in the morning, cuddled up on the floor, clothes thrown around the room, hickies everywhere.

[preseriesdean]

for @spnficrecfest day six: case fics 🧡

Ions in the Ether by @nigeltde-fic 10.9k words, rated E, published 2019 When was the last time you trusted happy.

Gospel Truth by Cerberuss 15.2k words, rated E, published 2020 ‘DOES YOUR BROTHER KNOW THAT YOU WANT HIM?’ Individually placed letters, bold and tinged brown with the weather. Sam can’t look away and he prays, dream dream dream. This sort of introspection could have come from no one but himself. His secret, his affliction, on display as a reminder. He put this here. Don’t forget, Sam, you’re abhorrent. This is all you.

the constant vow by deadlybride / @zmediaoutlet 119.5k words, rated E, published 2022 With Crowley apparently dead and Sam's soul back in place, even though Eve is a worry and Castiel's fighting a heavenly war, Sam and Dean at last have some space to get back to what passes (for them) as a normal life. They've just finished up a pretty standard job and are killing time in snowy Wisconsin when Dean wakes up no longer looking like Dean. That's just the start of their problems.

Almost At Home by balefully 24.3k words, rated E, published 2008 Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

Suave & Complicated by OldToadWoman 56.9k words, rated E, published 2015 Sam and Dean discover a useful, little, magical artifact. No one is forcing them to do anything. No one is going to die if they don't. They don't even feel a strange compulsion. But… it would be really helpful if they powered up the magical stone… and… all they have to do is kiss.

Crossed Wires by @rivkat 10.9k words, rated E, published 2015, check warnings Dean thinks Sam is dead.

Yesterday, minnesota by @goshen-applecrumbledore 29.7k words, rated E, published 2022 Any initial awkwardness filtered away over a hundred miles of highway as Sam thumbed through the missing witch’s diary again. Some people had secret coke habits or secret second wives, and some people had passionate, pitch black, no-kissing sex with a family member every four to six months and never talked about it. You had to find ways to cope.

Sight Lines by kickflaw/kissyn 21.3k words, rated E, published 2012 Dad's on a hunt, Dean's acting strange, and Bilton, NY, is the last place on earth Sam imagined he would figure out how to make everything fit right.

They Then Ate the Sailors by coyotesuspect 24.3k words, rated M, published 2013 The summer before Sam leaves for Stanford, Sam and Dean sublet a student apartment in a heat-wave gripped Chicago. With John tied up with a case in Iowa City, Sam and Dean are left to figure what's behind a recent spate of drownings. Sam wrestles with the weight of the secret he's keeping from Dean, while Dean struggles with his feelings for Sam. Things come to a head when a young girl goes missing and Sam nearly drowns.

a thousand dreams within me softly burn by dooping_star 14.6k words, rated T, published 2020 "there is something fierce and terrible in me eligible to burst forth, i dare not tell it in words," - walt whitman, ‘earth, my likeness’, leaves of grass

[ironmandeficiency]

the hobbit + hozier songs

characters included: kíli, bilbo, dwalin, thorin, nori, bofur, ori, fíli, dori, tauriel

word count: 1166

a/n: the amazing and precious @wordbunch inspired me to write these bc of her lotr/th characters as taylor swift songs posts & i couldn't be more excited to finally post this labor of love!! thank you bestie for listening to me scream abt this for nearly two months lol

kíli: foreigner’s god

he loves outside of his race and this fact causes undue scorn to be thrown at his feet. it’s unheard of for almost any dwarf, let alone one from the line of durin, to do such a thing. this does not deter him - it empowers him; if his heart could go against the traditions forged into his bones, molten in his hot blood, how could it not be true? the strength of his love is what helps him ignore the doubts shouted by the prejudice plaguing those who know nothing of his heart. that, and the sound of your laughter at his antics, the soft smiles only given to him when he’s being a little too charming… he could go on.

bilbo: like real people do

as much flack as bilbo gets from the company for not being conventionally tough, he’s not weak by any means. he’s familiar with the pain of loss, and how the ways one tries to rise above the grief that follows aren’t always savory. he knows there’s a respect to be found in the absence of prying questions, choosing simply to coexist in the feelings and allow answers to come in their own sweet time. he’ll put some tea on to cook and scrounge up some leftovers from the previous meal, sitting beside you and letting the comfort flow naturally, his soft lips soothing the most tender aches.

dwalin: work song

just looking at him, you wouldn’t think dwalin a sap. but with his insanely strong sense of loyalty and stalwart dedication, he can’t be anything but. he’s faced down innumerable evils in his time, braved the fiercest of storms that many of his comrades didn’t; none of them even come close to keeping him from you. your arms welcome him home without question after each fight he braves, and your letters tucked into secret compartments in his armor keep him warm between embraces. he’ll read them by the fire every night when he’s away, every gentle word carrying his mind away from thoughts of the day’s turmoil.

thorin: sedated

this sweet, sad man doesn’t think he deserves good things in life. this, unfortunately, includes having someone love him despite his flaws and past mistakes. he couldn’t resist admitting his feelings for you and was ridiculously shocked that you reciprocated & allowed him to love you. on nights when he feels his failures deeper, he’ll try to convince you that he doesn’t deserve you. vitriol will escape from worried lips and terrified heart, piercing you in the way only a lover knows how. a soft kiss, gentle words, and a few strokes through his hair will soothe these wounds from him for a time and allow him some of the peace he’s fought to find, but doesn’t always believe is earned.

nori: it will come back

it was decades since the last time nori thought of love, even longer since he believed himself worthy of it. meeting you only solidified his disbelief; how could someone look at him and see someone that deserved such a pure thing, after everything he’s done in his life? he’s stolen, lied, cheated, and killed to survive (and sometimes not for mere survival). his attempts to spurn you away from him only increased your determination to break through the fortress he built around himself. he could only be strong against your advances for so long before he crumbled, reluctantly accepting the love and peace and safety you offered so freely.

bofur: nobody

bofur’s done a lot in his time. he was born in the blue mountains, a colony that never seemed to find the prosperity needed to do more than simply survive. he is a brother, uncle, cousin, friend, toymaker, miner, member of the great company that reclaimed erebor. but through all his adventures and hardships, he never lost his playful streak. he wants to have fun with who he loves, wants a little bit of mischief to make his laugh louder and brighter. bofur is a fun-loving soul who, despite his wandering past, will always choose you over anywhere that you’re not.

ori: francesca

ori’s life has never been a peaceful one. being raised by dori and being followed by the whispers of his late amad’s reputation (not to mention nori’s) without a mountain to call home, it weighed on his shoulders. even his craft, the pride of every dwarrow worth their beard, happened to be one seen as miniscule in importance compared to smithing. every moment spent with his one, doing anything or nothing at all, eases the burden he carries and makes every moment of strife worth it just to be with the soul made to mirror his.

fíli: i, carrion (icarian)

your love for him seems almost too good to be true, the remnants of stories told in dusty tomes written by those with far more eloquence than he can claim to possess. that being said, he is definitely not one to look a gift boar in the mouth. he relishes in each tender moment, every second spent in your presence that carries him far beyond the constraints life has placed upon him. but he recognizes that life isn’t always so simple, retreating into your arms and wishing that everything around you both just disappears. there’s always reality, waiting patiently outside of your chambers for one faulty misstep to throw you both askew. that’s why he dedicates himself to showing you that if life does what it does best and deals harsh blows, he will be there for you through it all.

dori: shrike

dori never had time for love; he had two brothers to protect, one more wily than the other was young. his focus was on getting his brothers through the days, putting food on their plates and the semi-frequently used stash of bail money well-stocked. he allowed his feelings for his one to fall to the wayside in the name of preservation. he ignored their call for decades and braved out the pain that came with such a silence. he begged for his one’s forgiveness every time they called for him. but once the mountain was reclaimed and his brothers safe, he yearned for what he could have had. he would approach his one with much regret and sorrow for the time lost, but a pure hope that they could find forgiveness in their heart for him.

tauriel: unknown/nth

to earn her love is a feat unlike that which the world has known for a long time. being seen as worth all these mortal struggles and painful toils in the eyes of an elf, let alone one as fierce as tauriel, is quite the achievement to anyone outside looking in. to the red-haired warrior in question, though, giving her love to you has the same unthinking ease as breathing; it’s beyond instinct to do and just as necessary to her survival. you’re worth every century spent alone, every moment after knowing you spent away from you.

[vodika-vibes]

Okay, silly ask and you can decline if you don’t do the pregnancy stuff! But I was thinking a Crosshair x reader where they were an item pre-O66, and then the Kaller and brainwashing happened and they went separate ways because, ya know, chip went: “yo kill your brothers those hoes ain’t loyal.” While they’re separated, reader finds out she’s pregnant, and Crosshair only finds out when he lures the rest of the batch back to Kamino and they’re in that training room.

(Bonus if the rest of the batch only found out semi-recently too because reader’s mentality was “okay, I’m pregnant, no biggie. I’ll tell them later when it actually becomes an issue” and Tech figured it out right away but never said anything either)

That's What Family Does

Summary: Being pregnant sucks. Being pregnant with the baby of a man who’s actively hunting the people keeping you safe is worse. The fact that you still love him is just the icing on the “bad year” cake. Still, you probably should have listened to Hunter when he told you to stay on the Marauder rather than risk Crosshair seeing you. Ah well, you’ve never been the best at listening.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1771

Warnings: Pregnancy and Childbirth, and complicated relationships

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: So, I know next to nothing about childbirth, on account that I'm both childfree and infertile, so it's never been something that I had to worry about. So I did almost no research on this topic. Also, I've still never watched TBB, so I played around with...everything. But this has also been half-written for the better part of two weeks, and I just needed inspiration to strike me. Anyway, I hope you like it!

“You just had to come with us, didn’t you?” Hunter hisses as he shoves you behind Wrecker, “Why don’t you ever listen?”

“Because you’re not my mother,” You hiss right back at him, as you grab the over-large shirt that Echo’s been trying to shove over your head for the last five minutes and pull it on. It does…very little to hide your stomach. But then, the boys, and Omega, have only recently found out about your pregnancy. And only because you finally started showing and couldn’t hide it anymore.

Needless to say, Hunter and Echo weren’t thrilled about the sudden surprise. Wrecker was torn between excitement and dismay. And Omega…well, she’s been bubbling with excitement since she found out.

“Great, now we have to keep anyone from finding out that you are 8 months pregnant with a clone baby.” Hunter grouses, “Omega, stay with her.”

Omega nods rapidly, and wraps her arms around you, “I’ll bite anyone who tries to touch her.”

Absently, you pet Omega’s head and glare at Hunter, “Well, if you don’t say the words ‘clone’ and ‘baby’ next to each other, no one will ever know.”

“Yes, because your relationship with Crosshair was the best-kept secret on Kamino,” Hunter replies, deadpan, “there’s absolutely no way that anyone will ever figure out that you're pregnant with his baby.”

“Okay, tone down the sass, Mister. It’s not helping.”

Hunter grabs your shoulders, “You irk me. You’re irksome.”

“Hey! I’m pregnant, you can’t talk to me like that!”

For a moment, you think Hunter is going to shake you, but he stops when Tech taps his back, “He is here.”

Abruptly, you’re shoved back behind Wrecker and Echo, nearly tripping over Omega who’s still wrapped around you, and you only manage to catch a glimpse of Crosshair. 

His face is pinched and angry-looking, and you see his hand twitching towards his blaster.

Oh, you really hope that this doesn’t turn into a firefight. You don’t want to have to explain to your baby how they don’t have a dad because he got himself killed.

That would be awkward.

The nice thing is you’ve sped through all five stages of grief, and have just accepted that Crosshair isn’t the man you thought he was. And here you thought you were going to need, like, so much therapy to come to terms with it.

“Hunter.” Crosshair’s voice is cold. Colder than you’ve ever heard before. 

“Cross,” Hunter sounds tense, and you feel a pang of guilt. He wouldn’t be half as stressed if you and Omega just stayed on the ship. If you get out of this alive, and, you know, not a prisoner of the Empire, you should make him some apology cookies.

There’s a tense silence and Wrecker adjusts his weight slightly. You can tell by his body language, Echo’s too, that if this turns violent, the pair of them will remove you and Omega from the scene. Then again, that does tend to be their job most of the time.

“I assume you’re here to surrender.” Crosshair says. You know him better than anyone, you can tell he doesn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. 

Hesitantly, you peek around Wrecker and Crosshair sees you immediately. His sharp gaze lingers on you for a moment, and you see something like regret flicker across his face, though it vanishes as soon as Echo shoves you back behind Wrecker. 

“You have to leave the doctor behind,” Crosshair says flatly.

“No,” Tech says immediately.

“She belongs to the Empire.”

“Technically, my contract is with the Republ—” You counter, indignently.

“Stop talking!” Hunter, Tech, and Echo say in unison and you close your mouth without finishing your thought.

Hunter glances at you, and then at Crosshair, “She’s not a slave, Crosshair. She can come and go as she pleases.”

You can hear the argument continuing in the background, but you’re not really listening anymore.

Something doesn’t feel right.

And then you’re slammed with a cramp so intense that your legs nearly buckle. Your hand lands heavily on Omega’s shoulder and you exhale sharply. “Are you okay?” The little girl whispers, doing her best to not draw too much attention to herself…or you.

“We need to get back to the Marauder.” You say though clenched teeth.

“That’s the plan, but—”

“Meg.” You interrupt her, “I’m pretty sure I’ve just gone into labor.” You keep your voice very, very calm, not wanting to scare her, but she stares at you with wide eyes.

“WHAT!?” The men stop arguing at Omega’s panicked shout and turn towards her. “You…you can’t! It’s too early! You’re only 8 months!” Omega continues, her voice pitching high in her panic.

You don’t answer her. Can’t answer her, really, because you’re too busy trying to breathe through the waves of pain that kind of make you want to cry, scream, and throw up all at the same time.

You’re pretty sure you’d sell all of the clones on Kamino for some pain medicine.

You’re also pretty sure that that’s the pain talking and you’ll feel bad for having that thought as soon as you’re no longer in labor.

The waves of pain fade enough for you to recognize that your boys are in the middle of panicking around you. Panicking and not helping you.

Great.

Lovely.

Super.

You reach out and grab Wrecker’s forearm, “I need to get to a bed, preferably on the Marauder, because if I have to give birth in a training room, I’m going to murder all of you.” You say through gritted teeth.

And then Crosshair is there, his gaze lingering on your stomach, and if you were feeling even remotely charitable you’d say that he looks guilty and hurt.

But, you’re in so much pain right now that you really couldn’t care less.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” He asks.

You grab him by the collar of his armor, “I am in the process of pushing a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon. And it’s all your fault.” You snap, “I need to get to the Marauder.”

“...you know it takes two people to make a baby, kitten—”

The string of curses that fall from your lips after his comment, is enough that the boys push themselves into high gear and then rush you back to the ship. 

24 hours of hard labor later, your babies are finally here.

And you finally know why you went into labor early.

Turns out you were pregnant with twins. Twin girls, to be specific.

Right now they’re sleeping in a cradle that Echo stole from Kamino, wrapped in a black and a red blanket specifically.

So far, Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Tech, and Omega have come to meet the babies. But no Crosshair, though you know he’s still on the ship.

Hunter said that Crosshair refused to leave while you were still in labor. And now that they’re born, he wants to raise them with you.

It’s a nice thought, you suppose. Aside from the whole “wanting to kill his brothers” thing.

Plus, he still hasn’t come to meet the babies.

You tilt your head to the side as one of the babies yawns widely and then falls back to sleep. You hear the door slide open and then shut again. When you look up, you see Crosshair standing, awkwardly, at the door.

He’s dressed in his blacks and isn’t armed.

Hunter probably told him no weapons in the medbay. He’s a good brother-in-law, you’re lucky to have him.

“They’re cute.” Crosshair says as he walks over to the babies and peers down at them.

“They look like wrinkly potatoes.” You correct.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that?”

“I just spent 24 hours pushing them out of my vagina. If I want to call them potatoes, then I’m going to call them potatoes.”

“Ah,” He’s quiet for a moment, “Are you…okay? There was a lot of blood, Tech said.”

“Yeah, well…he had a bunch of my blood stored up for this scenario. Just in case.” You admit with a shrug, “I’ll recover. I’m going to be weak for a while though.”

“What are you naming them?”

“...I dunno. I was only expecting one baby, not two.” You pull your blanket up higher, “You’re such an overachiever.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Whatever. I’m too tired to be properly angry.” You pause, “We are going to have to talk, Crosshair.”

He rubs the back of his head, “Yeah. I know.”

“You walked away.”

“I know.”

“And it was easy for you to do. How could it be so easy for you to walk away?”

He sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you have even come with us if I didn’t go into labor?” You ask.

Crosshair shakes his head, “I don’t know.” He pauses, “You’re mad.”

“I think I have good cause to be mad, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “A condition of me staying with you and the twins is getting the chip out. And no weapons until they’re sure that I’m not going to try to hurt anyone.”

“Let me guess…Hunter?”

Crosshair nods, “He’s very…protective.”

“He always has been. But Hunter was the one who let me cry on his shoulder when you walked away. He might be a bit angrier at you than anyone else.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shrug, “Well, you did.”

The pair of you fall into a, slightly, awkward silence, and then you sigh, “Luna.”

“Sorry?”

“The twin with the silver hair, I’m going to call her Luna, I think.” Crosshair blinks at you, and then glances at the babies, finally noticing that one of the babies has his coloring, while the other one has yours.

“And what about her sister?”

“Don’t you want to name one?”

He looks momentarily surprised, and then he glances at the baby who looks like you, “Willow. I want to name her Willow.”

You tilt your head curiously.

Crosshair doesn’t acknowledge your silent question for a moment, and then a small smile lifts the corner of his lips, “The first date we went on was a picnic under a willow tree.”

“...I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“It’s important.”

You watch him for a moment, and then laugh softly, “Alright. Luna and Willow, then.” You allow your gaze to linger on Crosshair as he looks over the twins, and your smile widens.

The both of you aren’t okay. There are a lot of wrongs that need to be righted. But…well, he’s here. And you can’t help but think that that’s a step in the right direction.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday, Shana! 🎉🎉🌻🌻

Untamed or Naruto?

When Naruto is born, the nine tailed fox is pulled from Kushina along with her and it's only because of Minato's quick application of a seal that keeps disaster from becoming even worse.

Dozens of buildings and hundreds of lives are lost in the devestation. Still, it could have been a far worse attack, if Naruto had not been a suitable host for the demon.

It's a risk, one that Kushina screams at him for taking. The seal might not hold. Babies are not meant to be containers. It could kill their daughter, and sure, the nine tail might die along with her, but at what cost?

The seal holds. Naruto's strength holds.

The ordeal nearly kills Kushina and weakens her enough that she'll never again be an active duty ninja.

Minato sleeps at his office after that. Kushina doesn't even let him hold her until she's six months old and it's not until Naruto is almost two that she lets him move back into their home.

Still. Things aren't quite the same between them after that, when Kushina saw how he quick he was to sacrifice his daughter for the village.

Practically, she understands.

But no one has ever accused Kushina of being practical.

~

A container forced to spend their whole life fighting the fox will be weak. There's nothing for it - all their energy and chakra and time is spent subduing the fox, consciously or subconsciously.

Her daughter has been sabotaged from her first breath, made a target and given no way to defend herself.

"You want me to marry your daughter?" Kakashi squeaks, wondering if this is some new cruel prank she's playing on him. "She's a baby!"

But Kushina is serious. She's serious a lot these days, but at his question she almost smiles. "Not now. In about twenty years."

"Why," he starts, and then doesn't know how to continue.

"You're selfish," she says and his shoulders hunch. "Naruto won't be able to protect herself when people discover what she is and start coming after her. Minato has seen to that. My identity as the container was a well kept secret. Thanks to the attack, half of Konoha knows what Naruto is, and the other nations will hear of it, and they will come for her."

"I can protect her without marrying her," he insists, looking down at the baby in Kushina's arms. The idea that anyone, never mind him, will marry her someday is ridiculous.

"You're selfish," she repeats. "You'll choose her if she belongs to you."

Kakashi doesn't know what to say to that. He knows why Minato hasn't come home.

He goes to him, and his teacher just shrugs and says, "Don't you want to be my son-in-law, Kakashi?" Then, "Don't worry about it for the next twenty years. A lot can happen between now and then."

Gai hears he's been betrothed - uhg - to the hokage's daughter and congratulates him on an excellent political match and then takes pity on him and takes him to a bar.

It's his first time drinking and he probably shouldn't have let Gai goad him into a drinking contest.

~

Naruto is wary of people.

Some people love her, coo over her being the hokage's daughter and a brave little girl, patting her head and shoving sweets into her hands.

Some people glare at her, hiss about her being a demon who's killed the hokage's real daughter, and slam doors in her face and throw rocks at her back.

"Is it weird having a husband?" Ino asks while they make flower crowns from the days discarded flowers. It's the end to their first week at the academy and her parents are fighting - again - so Naruto had gone home with Ino instead. The Yamanakas are always nice to her.

Her mother doesn't want her to attend the academy, says its a waste of time and dangerous anyway. Her father says that the child of the hokage can't not attend the academy.

Neither of them had asked her what she wanted.

She pauses, thinking. Kakashi greets her and bows to her but he's ANBU, something she's not supposed to know but seems very obvious, so she doesn't really see him outside of when he comes by to talk to her parents sometimes. "No? He's not my husband yet anyway."

She's overheard him a couple times asking her father to find her a different husband, saying that he'll be bodyguard forever if only he doesn't have to marry her.

It hurts that Kakashi thinks she's a demon too. She'd always thought he was really cool and had thought it was nice that she'd have a nice, cool husband when she was older.

But she doesn't think she wants to marry someone who hates her.

~

The Uchihas aren't always nice to her, but Mikoto always is, coming over to her house to talk to her mother and dragging her sons with her, or keeping her door open to Naruto whenever she comes knocking.

Itachi stops coming early on, promoted quickly and no time to tag along to his mother's house visits. Sasuke is there and he scows and pouts but can be efficiently bullied into helping her get into whatever trouble she's decided is most worth her attention that day, so he's pretty all right, for a boy.

Naruto has to pay a lot of really close attention to people, because she never knows if they're going to be nice and mean, and the Uchihas aren't like the Yamanakas. Their reactions differ, so she has to pay attention.

Something is wrong.

Her mother doesn't believe her.

Her father doesn't listen.

She goes to Kakashi out of desperation. She tries to avoid him as much as she can, but he's the one person who might be able to convince her father that something is wrong.

"Ah, Naruto-hime, what can I do for you?" he asks, tone respectful. When she was younger, she liked that nickname. Now she knows that he's mocking her.

"Something is wrong with the Uchiha and you need to get my father to do something about it," she says.

His face is hidden by his stupid mask but she can tell he's frowning. "Why would you-"

She cuts him off, wanting this conversation to be as short as possible. He doesn't believe her either - shocker - but he agrees to look into because it's the quickest way to end the conversation.

Danzo is quietly, secretly, executed for treason. Madara Uchiha is listed as an active S class missing Konoha nin.

There are lots of talks about what, exactly, to do about the Uchihas, on how to handle their almost betrayal. Considering the outside manipulation, her father is inclined to ignore it, but something has to be done. Symbolically, if nothing else.

"If they feel excluded, then do something to make them feel included," Naruto says, nine years old and exhausted from the years of tension between the Uchihas and - well, everyone. Sasuke is so worried about his reputation that it takes ages to get him to do anything fun. It's almost quicker to get Shikamaru involved, which is saying something. "Do something no one else can question."

"Itachi or Sasuke?" her father asks, head bent over his paperwork.

She doesn't know what he's talking about. "For what?"

"Which do you prefer?" he asks.

"Sasuke?" she says, because Itachi is always very nice to her, especially after she helped prevent him from becoming a mass murderer, but he's never once helped her prank Iruka-sensei.

He nods and says nothing more and she rolls her eyes and goes to find something to do. Kiba has started training with Akamaru and she bets she can totally derail that without getting yelled at by Tsume.

A week later Sasuke climbs into her window and hisses furiously, "We're getting married?"

Huh.

Well, it looks like Kakashi got what he wanted.

She decided a long time ago she didn't want to marry him, and Sasuke is her friend, so this is fine. It's better.

Sasuke pats her shoulder and doesn't even yell at her when she ruins his shirt with tears.

He's already a better husband than Kakashi could ever be.

~

Minato is dreading today. Enrolling Naruto into the Academy had seemed like the right thing to do seven years ago, because what would people say about a hokage who didn't, but now that it's Graduation Day and he's going to have to deal with the gossip around the Hokage's daughter failing to even become a genin.

Iruka comes to drop off the team assignments and he does a double take when looking through them. "She passed?"

The chunin blinks and then asks, "Who, Hokage-sama? Haruno Sakura? It's rare for a civilian child, but her academic scores are quite high, even if her physical is lacking. She has a lot of potential."

He waves a dismissive hand. "No. My daughter."

The silence turns frigid and when he looks up it's too Iruka outright glaring at him. He's so taken aback that he can't even reprimand him for it. Iruka swallows, visibly forcing his face into less mutinous expression, and says, "Naruto is Top Kunoichi. That's why she's on the same team as Sasuke, who's Rookie of the Year, even though I was hesitant on putting them together when they already work so well together. They could use variety. Sakura is Dead Last, but only because of her physical skills. With the right teacher, she'll shape up quickly."

"Top Kunoichi," he repeats dubiously. "I've seen her test scores."

"Not since I took over her class, apparently," he says, and that tone should get him in trouble, but Minato doesn't care about that now. "Her previous instructor was ... biased. Under fair instruction, she excels."

She can't excel. She's handicapped, and it's his fault, not hers, but that doesn't change what she's capable of. "That's not possible."

Iruka's eyes narrow. "She's passed my tests. Now it's up to her jounin sensei."

Assigning someone with no biases is impossible, but he can at least assign someone who's never matched the shinobi art of lying about things they don't care about.

~

Naruto hopes this is a nightmare. Sasuke is pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking at any of them.

"Um," Sakura says hesitantly, "nice to meet you, Tsume-sensei."

She scowls at all of them. "I hope you fail. I have a clan to run! I don't have time to deal with untrained, undisciplined puppies!"

They probably shouldn't have broken into the Inuzuka compound so many times. Tsume has plenty of reasons to make their lives miserable. Or, well, hers and Sasuke's. Sakura's never done anything to her.

At least it's not Kakashi.

[faeble-drabbles]

Alright I’ll bite. Tell me about frieza with a god of destruction reader

YESSSSSS I WILL ABSOLUTELY TELL YOU

Also if anyone is wondering "Why a god reader tho", its because I feel like only a god or angel will be able to get away with the shit that I planned...or someone who is just super powerful that he knows he can't just kill out of anger xD

•°• FRIEZA x God!Reader •°•

+ SO. Imagine you are a bored as hell destruction god. You happened to spot Frieza at the Tournament of Power and were immediately like--"That. That one is my new play toy"

+ You bribed your Angel with some well deserved time off to get you to Universe 7 and aboard Frieza's ship. Disguising yourself as a member of the ship, you make your way to your target.

+ When you came in, unannounced and acting like you owned the place, BOY did he try to kill you. But after being unsuccessful, he knew something was up. "...Who exactly are you? And what do you want with me??" Little did he know that was a loaded question.

+ You reveal yourself as a destruction god from another universe and declare that he will be your new play thing. You would keep your identity secret from the others on the ship and in return would give him some training. Also...you would not be taking no for an answer.

+ Frieza begrudgingly agrees, seeing as he had no choice. They just wanted to stay on his ship to keep themselves amused and he got free training out of it. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

+ HE WAS WRONG. You were an absolute menace. You ordered him around like a servant, teased him 24/7, was ruthless during training and asked lewd personal questions about the location of his reproductive organs.

+ But weirdly enough, after a few months of this torture, Frieza was starting to get used to your presence. It wasn't until you had to return back to your own universe for a brief time that he realized something strange.

+ Frieza was nearly jumping for joy when he found out you were finally leaving for a while. But then after a day or two...it was almost too quiet? Did he actually miss you?? ABSOLUTELY PERPOSTEROUS.

+ That's what he told himself until the day he asked one of his crew to insult and make fun of him. Because they wouldn't and due to Frieza realizing what he had asked--the poor guy got vaporized (Gotta get rid of the evidence oops)

+ When you finally returned, you noticed something off about him. Although he had his usual scowl and was complaining about how things were so nice and quiet while you were gone...you felt something lightly wrap around your leg. It was his tail...almost like he missed you?? ...This was going to be more fun than you thought.

[NSFW Below -- I must.]

+ When you caught on that the all powerful Lord Frieza was catching feelings for you?? That was too cute. And you bet you were going to tease the ever living shit out of him.

+ It all came to a point when you were having a conversation with him and starting teasing him about whether or not he was a virgin. His lack of direct response told you all you needed to know. You crawled into his lap and began to wiggle around before whispering in his ear "...How about some extra training, hm??" He looked away in disgust, but the tail around your leg tightened. That's all you needed.

+ Once comfy in his chambers, you discovered a nice little slit opening up between his legs and what looked to be something poking out. You nearly pounced him after seeing that.

+ The sweet whimpers and noises Frieza made as you worked your fingers and tongue into him, easing his member out completely. Your praises of how beautiful he looked while you were making a mess of him edging him on even further.

+ Once he's good and ready, you begin to slowly lower yourself onto him before taking him all in one go, making him nearly choke on his breath. You ride him so hard that this man is seeing stars and turns into a babbling mess. Seeing him so undone for you feel absolutely amazing.

+ Overstimulation?? Of course. After he cums, you want him shuddering as you continue with your ministrations. You want to see those pretty red eyes rolling back into his head as he bites back his moans.

+ You best believe there will be a round two. Whether you have your own dick or your attaching one, you will be putting Friezas face into the bed and destroying that ass. Your only complaint was that all his sweet noises getting muffled by the bed. Regardless it was quite the show.

+ Even though you are usually mean to him, you would try to give him the best aftercare you could. He would be bitching the entire time on how you roughly manhandled him, but you knew he enjoyed himself. Needless to say, it would not be your last encounter like this...

[I'm so sorry this was so long--I've had this with me for a while okay xD]

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Okay I’ve been toying with an idea for a Six of Crows au post-Crooked Kingdom where Van Eck won for a little while now and yeah idk but I had a scene idea come to me just now so I’m gonna write it here to see what you guys think and if there’s any interest then I might add it to my list of fics to write

This feels like a weird introduction but, er, here we go:

Inej knew the moment Kaz got home. There were no longer any crowds in the house to come to attention at his entrance, or if there were then no-one had bothered to come down to the half-room and tell Inej, but she could hear his voice drifting through the vents as soon as the door upstairs banged shut behind him.

“Where’s Inej?”

“Where do you think?” Matthias’ reply came roughly, and Inej could all but picture the disapproving grimace that must be crossing his face about now.

Let him judge. She didn’t need to leave the half-room, and for as long as that was true she wouldn’t. The vents did not give her every room though, and she did miss gathering her secrets. She wondered if there was anyone else in the house, but the five of them. Five? She stopped and counted them on her fingers. Yes, five. Hopefully still five. Inej had not bothered to leave the half-room in days, and no-one had been down to see her since yesterday morning.

She heard the door click open behind her, of course, but she did not bother to look up as Dirtyhands entered the room.

“Wraith,”

“Don’t you read the papers, Kaz?” Inej asked, without turning, “The Wraith is dead,”

She stood up, hand wandering across the table for her little pot of jurda. It tasted like shit and it wasn’t nearly as strong as she wanted it to be, but it took less than a month for the price of the blossoms to surpass the height of the stars so she’d have to make do with whatever they had left.

“Inej-”

“They found her body on the steps outside the Church of Barter almost three months ago, remember?” she finally turned to face Kaz, unscrewing the lid on the little silver pot as she did so, “Killed by some mercenary called the White Blade, who still hasn’t been found by they way in case you haven’t seen the latest. I guess it’s difficult to catch a ghost,”

Difficult to catch a wraith.

“We’ve had this conversation several times, Inej-”

“And we’re going to have it again,”

Inej placed an orange jurda blossom on her tongue, then offered the open container to Kaz. It was almost empty. He waved her off.

“I thought you didn’t go in for that sort of thing,”

Inej shrugged.

“Gotta stay awake somehow, haven’t I? We’re busy,”

“We’re not on a job”

“We’re never on a job. Unless the reason you’ve bothered to grace me with your presence is a proposition?”

Kaz shook his head.

“I just wanted to tell you there’s no news,”

Inej looked away. There was never any news. And yet somehow she always expected differently.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Probably,”

Inej caught another jurda blossom between her fingers. She needed to stay awake, because if she slept she would see him. She would see all the ways she’d failed.

“It wasn’t your fault, Inej, we’re having the same conversations on repeat can’t you see-,”

“And we’ll have them again,” she shrugged, “We will have this conversation again, Kaz, because I made a mistake and you are coddling me like a child who won’t be able cope if you tell them something was their fault. Tell me it was my fault, Kaz! We both know that it’s true,”

Kaz shook his head.

“I’d rather repeat the previous,”

“Then let’s,” snapped Inej, because hell if this jurda wasn’t strong enough to keep her awake then maybe an argument would be, “Let’s repeat the goddamn conversation, Kaz, because you’re right. We have the same two conversations on repeat and do you want to know why? Because I am owning up to the mistake I made and I am trying to deal with the consequences of it, but you had no right to do what you did, do you understand me? You messed up and you need to take some damn responsibility, because if you think-”

“You always knew Tailoring Dunyasha’s body to look like yours was a possibility for your escape option,” said Kaz, calmly.

She hated how quiet his voice was, how slow and deliberate he sounded next to the and ramblings that she could not stop from stumbling out of her.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she hissed, slamming her jurda back down on the table.

“I couldn’t have done anything to stop that,”

“You could have tried,”

“Inej-”

“Shevrati,”

Know-nothing.

She waved a hand vaguely at the door.

“Get out,”

Kaz turned to leave, then paused.

“I am sorry, Inej. They’d like to see you upstairs, you know. Nina misses you,”

“Nina can come down here then,”

“Inej… I can’t do anything for you but apologise,”

“Keep you apologies,” she snarled, and when the door had closed behind him added: “Choke on them,”

Kaz could apologise all he wanted. She would not forgive him. What right did he have to expect anything different from her than this? Did any of them? Kaz had not had to watch his parents cry, as they carried home the body of a child that wasn’t theirs. Kaz had not had to feel the ironclad grip of the person he thought he’d trusted most in the world as they held him back and told him to swallow his sobs and keep quiet. Kaz had not given up and gone limp in their arms, a mess of tears and useless prayers, as he saw his parents slip from his grasp once again and knew that he would not have the chance to tell them truth.

Kaz had also not failed the others, and did not have to feel the truth of that choking him every time he saw them. Kaz had not spent almost three months barely daring to venture out of the half room, just so he would never have to lock eyes with Jesper Fahey. There was a scream inside Inej that had been slowly building itself since the day of the auction, and if she did not find a way to release it soon it may very well eat her alive.

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Can we talk about this for a second? We all already went over Joel's extreme vulnerability in this scene but there's one more thing that has my heart skipping a beat every time I watch it. When Joel reveals to Tommy that Ellie is immune, he shares the most important, most guarded secret he's keeping at the moment. Everything in this man is screaming at him to protect this girl but, even after all this time apart, even with all that's left said and unsaid between them, he still trusts his brother so much that he's willing to reveal this secret. A secret that makes Ellie valuable. That paints a giant fucking target on her back. A secret that earlier that day nearly caused Joel a fucking heart attack because if that dog sniffed it out it'd be over for the both of them. But he still tells Tommy and he says it in such a way that you can feel the magnitude of that knowledge within the word, you can feel the importance of it, all the weight it carries and how it equally makes Joel awestruck and terrified.

But then look at Tommy's reaction. He's standing, leaning against the table but the moment Joel tells him, he pushes himself away and glances at the door, like he's ready to run out of there and ring the alarm. Because he's just learned there's an infected kid inside the walls of Jackson, his home, where his community lives, his wife and unborn child and that puts them all in jeopardy. And his first instinct is to go and let them know.

And Joel sees that. He sees it instantly and he panics.

"Tommy. Tommy. I saw her get bit myself. That was months ago. Months."

I almost excepted him to shoot out of that chair and physically stop Tommy with his own body. He instantly became even more desperate, started pleading, trying to make his brother understand there's no danger here. Immune, Tommy. Not infected - immune. Focus on that.

And Tommy must've noticed that fear and desperation in Joel's eyes, must have seen him internally begging Tommy please understand, she's okay, she's not a threat, don't go, please don't go, don't tell anyone, please listen to me, please because he takes a breath, sits down and asks for the full story.

And once the story is out and Joel's heart is open and tears are streaming down his face, he starts again. Because he can see the turmoil on Tommy's face. He can see that Tommy understands, or at least is trying to, but he's still hesitating. And Joel starts begging.

Voice breaking, throat tight, choking on his own tears, he's begging, to take Ellie away, to keep her secret, to keep her safe because he can't and it's killing him. The possibility of what they could do to her if they found out is literally making him fall apart. Tommy please understand, you can't tell anyone. Not even your wife. No one can know because they'll kill her. You understand? If they know, she dies. And I can't let that happen. I don't trust anyone else but you. I'm begging you, don't tell anyone.

Joel is crumbling under the weight of it all and Tommy can see it.

And so he agrees. And the relief Joel feels is huge. Because Tommy will take her - but not only that, he will keep her secret. No one in Jackson will know. Not Maria, not the council, no one. And Tommy will make sure it stays that way.

Even after Joel and Ellie leave together in the morning.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Thinking about getting closer to Beck and Perri.

Thinking about hearing Beck talk about leaving, seeing the defeat and frustration and desire in their eyes as they speak, remembering how the fog almost killed me for trying that very thing and wanting to say something--it's not your fault, something is keeping you here, trapping you here against your will. It nearly killed me. It won't let you go even if you try.

Thinking about discussing cryptids and conspiracies with Perri, screaming internally because there's something supernatural here in this very town that I know for a fact exists. I've seen it, experienced it myself.

Thinking about teetering on the edge of temptation, confession dancing on the tip of my tongue before I remember what the others said. That it takes repeated exposure to notice the fog, to acknowledge it, to remember it.

Thinking about the bitter, stinging pain of swallowing back a secret I'm desperate to share with the two people in this town I've grown closest to, hopelessly overburdened by what I know. Could I handle the pain and frustration of having my story forgotten repeatedly for the slim chance that one day they'll remember? Isn't it better to stay silent? They'll forgive me for my silence if they ever find out... right?

(Rotating these two in my mind daily)

Oh my god I'm eating this ask right now.

Yes yes yes this is exactly the tragedy of their route. Croft and Jay and Ravi are all in on it, they understand what's going on, but Beck and Perri?? And Yas? They're completely in the dark.

If MC tried to tell them would it even work? For how long? And if they remembered--just like you're saying--would they forgive? The MC has mixed feelings enough about the others keeping the secret for a day. Imagine building a relationship with somebody only to find out they have this secret that they haven't told you for days, weeks, even months. A secret they couldn't tell you. How would you feel?

Truth and secrets and the effects of the fog play a pretty significant role in both Beck and Perri's solo routes, and especially in their polyroute. And it's going to be so good.

[biteofcherry]

Here’s a prompt.. For either Chris Evans, or maybe Bucky Barnes…

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“And I’m not here to apologize.”

Of course, do what you want with it, or nothing at all! ❤️❤️

Keeping a fake, bright smile on your face, you walked through the open space of Melissa's obscenely expensive house in New Hamptons and into the wide, pristine backyard that stretched far out to the slopes by the beach.

You tried to keep your steps slow, but the annoyance pumping in your veins was driving you to march until you found your target.

It would be better to approach him in the privacy of his house, but the asshole hasn't been there for the past few days. He hasn't been in his office either.

No, how could he be, if your boss sent him to negotiate a deal with Barnes&Rogers.

A deal for which you worked your ass off for two months, spending countless hours researching, looking for loops, rubbing hands with old friends who could provide you bits of secret intel.

Then Andy Fucker Barber slides in and steals the case from your hands.

Okay, so maybe he didn't exactly steal it. Maybe your boss was a misogynistic prick who gave it to Barber after learning that Andy was in the same frat house as Rogers and Barnes. Even though they haven't really keep in touch for the past ten years.

But you couldn't exactly unleash your anger on your boss, so you directed it onto Barber.

Which lead to a whole mountain of other problems.

Problems that kept you up at night, tossing and turning, and nearly killing the battery of your vibrator.

You spotted him at the very far back of the garden, standing in the shade of a tree. With a glass in one hand and a phone in the other, ignoring the phony spectacle of ass kissing and gossiping.

Trying to stick to the paved routes, so your heels wouldn't sink into the ground, you maneuvered between people (exchanging greetings and smiles). To reach Barber, however, you had to go off path.

He noticed you when you nearly wobbled a few steps from him, as your heel sunk into soft earth. Gritting your teeth, you yanked your foot free and made the last steps between you.

"Hello, fucker!" You hissed, keeping your voice low.

You poked him square in the chest. Twice. Which, in your opinion, was still a better choice than pushing him with all your might. You wanted to do that so much.

"What's this about?" Andy frowned, though he didn't seem even mildly swayed by your poking.

His seemingly clueless act angered you even further.

You spent almost a week processing what happened that late evening in Andy's office, couldn't get it out of your head (and other body parts), and here he was acting as if he didn't remember it happening.

"You kissed me!" You reminded him, barely stopping yourself from kicking him in the ankle.

And then you weren't in the office in the next day to talk it out! You weren't in your home to talk it out! And it's not something to talk on the phone about! Would you even pick up? You left as if nothing happened and it didn't mean a single thing! - All of these remained unspoken, boiling only in your head.

Andy leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice as well as he countered - "You kissed me back."

You did.

One moment you were ranting to him how unfair it was, how he better not fuck up the deal you were working on, the next second Andy's lips were on you, swallowing your anger and transforming it into a different spark.

It ignited an eager reaction on your part, pushing you into temptation which you battled since the handsome bastard started working at your company almost a year ago.

That kiss was toe-curling.

Made you pliant in Andy's hands, opening your lips to any of his demands, chasing his mouth when he threatened to pull away.

If it wasn't for the phone that rang then, it could lead to something more.

In the end it led to your annoyance and desire to kill Andy Barber.

"And I'm not here to apologize." You crossed your arms over your chest, adamant on not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how he flipped your world upside down for a few days.

"No, you wouldn't." Andy chuckled and slipped his phone into his pocket.

He stepped closer to you, leaning down until his beard brushed against your cheek and his hot breath tickled your ear.

"I bet the only way to get you apologizing and behaving appropriately is to take you over my knee and spank your ass red."

His words made the breath in your chest hitch. A never before heard sound escaped your lips - a mixture of outrage and desperate need.

"I think it would also help releasing some of your frustration." Andy pulled back slightly, enough to look into your eyes.

"Do you want that?" He asked, holding your gaze. "Want me to help you? Want me to fuck it all out of your system?"

[thebluestbluewords]

is the worldbuilding in the room with us now?

"My sister is trying to court the little Tremaine." Freddie grumbles,rolling her eyes. And also her other eyes. All of the googly eyes she's got glued to her purse, and the embroidered ones on her coat all roll in sync with each other. The overall effect is very Isle chic. It's almost comforting. 

"If it helps at all, they're being very cute about it," Evie says, carefully maintaining her tone of absolute innocence. She certainly hasn't been encouraging Dizzy's advances, no siree. Freddie doesn't need to know about the cobweb coat that's hanging above Dizzy's table in the workshop right now. Evie's only been helping a little bit with the bedazzling. "I think they're sweet together." 

Freddie's eyes narrow. "Enabler." 

"Me? Fred, come on." 

Freddie swats at the hand that Evie's laid innocently on her chest. "You're enabling them somehow, I know it. Don't put on that act with me."

Evie swallows back her giggle. "No act, I just think they're sweet. They cuddle sometimes." 

Freddie growls, a low rumbling that picks up in her throat and reverberates through Evie's bones. "I'll kill her." 

"Which one?" Evie offers sweetly. "Because if you're looking to defend Celia's virtue, I think you're a little too late. That ship sailed while they were still living under the same roof." 

"You let them--" 

"I did. We were doing it at their age. We're fine." 

"I wouldn't call us--" Freddie sweeps both hands out in a broad gesture that somehow ecompasses both girls, her blinking eyeball purse, and Evie's glistening white kitchen as a whole. "Fine. I mean, look at this shit.  You have fake fruit on your counter." 

Evie snatches the glossed banana out of her friend's un-tender grip. "I have preserved fruit on my counter, actually. And it's there for a reason. Don't break it." 

Freddie relinquishes the banana, but leans back so she can cross her arms in an appropriately disapproving manner. "Why would I break you banana, princess?" 

"Lots of reasons. Maybe you have a grudge against bananas in general. Maybe you hate mine specifically. Maybe you've got a secret anti-fruit vendetta that you're acting upon one poor, unfortunate fruity soul at a time. Maybe," Evie leans in so they're nearly nose to nose. "You just want something from me, and abusing my fruit is the fastest way to get it." 

Freddie scoffs. 

"Hardly. What I want is to know why the hell you keep preserved fruit on your counter when any kid could come along and break a tooth on it." 

"It's a science experiment." 

Freddie's eyebrows crawl up her face. "Explain."

"Gladly. Everything arrives on the Isle already rotten, right?" 

"Right. Like us." 

Evie can be generous. She ignores this breach of manners, and forges ahead undaunted. "So, we deserve better than that. If we fix what arrives on the Isle, it goes a long way towards keeping things inhabitable, or at least bearable for the kids who are still stuck there while Ben works on the legal grounds to get them out safely.  I started a few experiments in food preservation, oh, maybe a few months ago?" 

"So this banana--" 

"Is four months old. Yes." 

Freddie lowers herself to go eye-to-eye with the preserved fruit bowl. "But it's solid." 

"Yes." 

"So if I peel this open..." 

Ah. No. 

"I didn't say that I've mastered the experiments yet," Evie says, sliding the bowl backwards before Freddie can try anything stupid. "I've succeeded in preserving some fruits, but the tradeoff is that they're currently fully preserved." 

"So?" 

"Inedible." Evie explains. "We preserved them too well. They'll just pass through your body fully undigested." 

"Gross." 

"You don't know gross until you're looking at a stool sample full of undigested orange chunks." Evie says grimly. "We almost called in Fairy Godmother for a case of magical poisoning before we realized that it wasn't organ tissue sloughing off on the way out." 

[fixfoxnox]

Y'all know the thing of Neil Ellice with long hair that everyone was losing their shit over earlier?

This one???

I'm claiming it for the SoapRoach/GhostRoachSoap nation now.

HERES THE PLAN:

Deep undercover Soap, he grew his hair and beard out specifically to infiltrate a terrorist cell thats been slowly growing. It's headed by an American and notoriously hard to get involved in, but through monitoring the channels the 141 learned that the cell were looking for someone to help make explosives and shit for them.

So with months in the making the 141 craft this false identity for Soap. He's not Soap, he's just John McCormick and he's ex-militaty currently on the run for deserting. Its a perfect disgust because Soap is essentially allowed to be himself and have his same knowledge without worrying about remembering a harsh backstory or staying in character. The hair and beard are to add to this idea that he's trying to stay hidden.

Finally everything is ready and he goes undercover. It takes about a month, but he finally gets brought into the terrorist cell and pretty quickly works his way up the ladder until he's being introduced to the head guy. Johnathan Sanderson, a man who'd lost almost his entire family thanks to the US military and was out for harsh revenge.

The only member of his family remaining is his younger brother, Gary "Roach" Sanderson who isn't really involved in what his brother does despite knowing about it. He stays close because Johnathan is too overprotective and refuses to chance losing him too.

During his time undercover, Soap gets close to Roach and kinda maybe starts seeing him. He knows he shouldn't, he knows it can never really work, but he just can't help himself. Roach is too lovely and the two just get along so well.

Soap wants to tell Roach, he wants to tell him so bad, but he keeps things hidden.

The undercover op lasts almost two years of Soap trying to get the information that will allow the 141 to bring down the terrorist cell once and for all. Thats nearly two years of lying and secretly reporting back to, secretly communicating, and secretly meeting his team. Two years of being together with Roach and falling into a routine with him. Two years that lead to him eventually proposing to Roach, despite the fact that he knows he shouldn't. He just wants to pretend, just for a little longer.

Then, of course, he gets the information he needs, but in the process exposes himself. He's forced to run and barely makes it back to the 141 alive. Roach is informed that his fiance John was an undercover operative the entire time and, within days, the entire terrorist cell are being arrested or are getting themselves killed fighting back.

Roach gets arrested, but its more to get him out of harms way and to interrogate him rather than actually put him in jail.

He's getting interrogated by Price, Ghost, and Gaz about his brother when Soap steps into the room. He's not said a fucking word the entire time before Soap comes into the room and by the time Soap does, Price is threatening him with jail time. Soap like leans over the table and is like, "Roach...please just tell them what they want to know."

And Roach just refuses to look at him but Soap is still trying and he's just speaking softly and eventually Roach just snaps at him, "Why would you care what happens to me? You seemed pretty content just to use me for your own needs, John."

And Soap is like, "Please, please that isn't what was happening I swear." Price and the 141 pull Soap out of the room and get filled in about the little secret that Soap was hiding in that he'd started a relationship with and had even proposed to Roach.

Soap begs to be given some time because he's sure that he can get Roach to answer their basic questions about his involvement. So they let Soap go back into the room alone.

Soap gets into the room and for like the first thirty minutes to an hour Roach refuses to speak with him and they end up sitting in silence or with Soap being the only one talking. Then, finally, Soap mentions something about their engagement and Roach snaps.

Roach starts accusing him of only using him to get to his brother, of Roach being a pawn in whatever game he was playing, of Soap still trying to trick him now by playing on the love that Roach has for him. Soap refutes every point and swears up and down that he's in love with Roach and that Roach was never part of his plan to get to his brother.

Eventually Soap is like, "What do I have to do to prove to you that I love you?"

Roach answers, "Leave the 141. Leave the military."

Soap pauses for a short moment before, "If thats what it takes. If thats what makes you believe." And he leaves the room and comes back like an hour later with the papers that he would need to resign from the military and Roach is just gaping while watching him sign them.

And eventually Soap finishes and sets the pen down and slides the papers over to Roach so he can look at them and see that they're legit. Roach takes one look at them before just breaking down sobbing.

He finally answers the questions while crying into Soap's chest and clinging to him and at the end of it Price is like, "Okay, you're free to go." And Soap hands Price the resignation papers, but before Price can take them Roach grabs them and just rips them in half.

Soap asks him what he's doing in a panic and Roach (still crying) is just like, "I can't ask you to leave for me, I didn't think you'd actually do it, I'm sorry."

And it takes time and patience, Roach essentially has to relearn who his boyfriend is and Soap has to earn his trust back, but eventually the two work things out and the wedding is back on and Johnathan (in jail) is lowkey pissed on Roach's behalf but won't show that in front of Roach so he just glares daggers and mouths mean things to Soap when Roach isn't looking ajdbhdhsbd

Anyways yeah...I also have ideas on how to make this GhostRoachSoap so if you want that...lmk

[caslyra]

Things fanon and I don't agree on #1

Fanon: Huge fight after "The Prank", Remus hates Sirius, doesn't talk to him for months, James adrift, dynamics of the whole Marauders destroyed, friendship possibly ruined forever until Sirius suddenly realizes what he's done and/or Remus takes pity on him after ages of him applogizing

Canon: No hint in that direction whatsoever. The opposite, more like

Please go for your "big fight after 'the prank'"-fanfictions, I love a good deal of them. But it's not canon.

There was no big fight and Sirius did not realize the wrong of his actions, at least not until after PoA

Hear me out:

Remus wasn't all that sensible a teenager as fanon makes him out to be

In PoA he says: 

"Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did…[...]"

[...]

“That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you’d given the others the slip and bitten somebody?”  [Hermione]

"A thought that still haunts me”, said Lupin heavily. “And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless - carried away with our own cleverness."

So even if adult Remus is all reasonable, teenage Remus obviously had no qualms roaming around a freaking village as a werewolf? (And is adult Remus really that sensible? Let's not forget he did neither tell Dumbledore about an alleged mass-murderer being an animagus, nor the secret passages that led into the castle, even AFTER said mass murderer had already broken into Harry’s dormitory, supposedly with the plan to kill him.)

No, Remus basically admits he wasn’t all that bothered that he, a werewolf, almost gave the others the slip (As an adult, yes "A thought that still haunts me", but not as a teenager). And I think it’s sort of 'understandable‘ if we remind ourselves that Remus says he was  more human-like with them ("Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."), plus that a werewolf isn’t a threat to animals ("A werewolf is only a danger to people.") They became reckless because Remus was no danger when with them.

What I take from this is: Remus was running around Hogsmeade, where people lived ("roaming the school grounds and the village by night") as a werewolf. Even though he almost slipped away more than once ("And there were near misses, many of them."). And Remus was - as I said - okay with it ("We laughed about them afterwards."), calls himself "thoughtless". 

So I think our view of Remus (whom I love by the way if that wasn't clear already, I LOVE flawed characters, don't take them away from me!) is a little contorted because we only know him as an adult (and even then he isn't always that reasonable as we make him out to be).

 

2. With that 'version' of Remus in mind him dismissing the prank is not that big a stretch

Remus might as well have gotten away from his friends and bitten/hurt another person. And if Remus was at the very least sort of okay with roaming Hogsmeade, I can see why the whole 'trick' was not that big a deal to Sirius. Because if Remus, who ought to know the risks best, whose life was at stake every time they left the Shack, didn't seem to think any of it, was acting that reckless, how was Sirius supposed to think it through, assess the possible dangers? (Don't get me wrong, I'm not making excuses for Sirius - he should have thought it through. I'm just trying to trace a poasible reasoning here)

3. Even if Remus was angry with Sirius after the prank, there was no big argument about it.

Adult Remus still speaks incredibly indulgently about the whole thing in PoA ("He has his reasons… you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me-” [...] Sirius thought it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape [...]").

This, I think, is a pattern, because he continues to do so in OotP, when Harry confronts him and Sirius after having seen Snape's worst memory (""Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away-""). He's obviously quick to find excuses for his friends -even if he doesn't agree with their behavior (he doesn't agree with what they did in Snape's worst memory).  

Of course you could argue that  twenty years had passed between the prank and Remus's statements in PoA and that Remus has had time to get over it. But for me it doesn't add up, because of Sirius's response in PoA:

“"It served him right”. he sneered. “Sneaking around, trying to find, what we were up to… hoping he could get us expelled…” 

So Sirius says that "It served him right“. Now, I fully agree that Sirius doesn't give a fuck about Snape's emotions or even his life (which is also true the other way round), but I just can’t picture him acting like that if said 'trick' had caused a huge fight between him and Remus. 

Say fanon got it 'right':

After the prank Remus is furious with Sirius, so furious that he doesn’t talk to him. For months even. It’s unsure whether they'll be able to go back to being friends. Now, Sirius might not be the most observant person (debatable, but not the point here), but even he would have picked up on the fact that this was a really big deal for Remus if they had had such a huge fight, if he had almost lost his friend over this. And in that scenario I just can not see him dismiss the whole thing with a throwaway comment like that - even after twelve years of Azkaban fucking with his head. Not if that whole incident was such a big deal as people seem to think, not if it put a serious strain on their relationship. It'd be like deliberately twisting the knife, it'd be a testimony of him not giving a fuck about Remus's feelings on the matter, it'd be like screaming "fuck you" at Remus. I'm sorry, but I don't see that. He wouldn't say that if the prank had almost destroyed their friendship. Because there's no doubt Remus was important to him, he never intentionally wanted to hurt him. And Sirius might be reckless, but he's not stupid. He's described as very bright more than once. He's not stupid enough not to realize what his statement would do to Remus had there been a fight.

So here's what happened in my opinion (Of course my opinion isn't inherently 'right' and I'm not some kind of Harry Potter expert, so feel free ro disagree with me - but that goes without saying):

Snape is following them for ages, trying to uncover Remus's secret. We know from Snape's memory in "The Prince's Tale"  that James/Sirius and Snape have been 'enemies' since the very first Hogwarts train ride (were the nickname was born). For all we know Remus never engaged in the bullying (even though he did nothing to stop it, either). Apart from the disgusting incident in Snape's worst memory (we don't have to talk about it, they were far out of line), it sounds to me like Snape and James were evenly matched. ("“Well”, said Lupin slowly, “Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?”")

Sirius stumbles into Snape, who has been snooping around again: Scenario A: He actually wants to hurt/kill Snape in a spur-of-the-moment thing, because he 'deserves it'. He just snaps. (He comes from a family who loves Dark Magic after all, I can see him having a 'dark side' that he usually has under control ("We've all got both light and dark inside us"). Ironically, I think that Sirius's drive to be 'good' is his biggest weakness, because it leads him to stupid decisions).  

Scenario B: He only wants to scare Snape. He doesn't think (because he's Sirius Black - there are multiple occasions where he doesn't think things through). To him Remus is not dangerous. Yes, he has seen the wounds Remus has inflicted on himself. But Sirius has never experienced Remus as a threat to others. He isn't to them, they are having a great time every full moon ("And they didn’t desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.”). He didn't think it possible that something bad could actually happen to Snape, because he doesn't see Remus that way. As a danger. (Cleary, he didn't think)

Maybe Remus is angry about the prank, maybe he isn't. Either way he doesn't start an argument. Maybe he genuinely doesn't care much. Maybe he realizes how dangerous the whole thing had been (he certainly has as an adult), but doesn't bring it up nonetheless. Maybe because he blames himself (because, how are his friends supposed to see the danger, when he himself, a werewolf, runs around the village with them). Maybe he is afraid of losing his friends if he speaks up (we know he is incredibly grateful to have them in the first place). Maybe he finds other excuses for Sirius's behavior (he didn't mean it / he never thinks so it wasn't personal / nothing happened / he is stressed out because he has to go back home soon (although we don't know whether that's the case, he might as well already have lived with the Potters at that point). I, personally, can totally see Remus make excuses for him, we know he also did it with the Snape-bullying. 

At some point Remus realizes how dangerous it all was. Maybe still as a teenager, maybe as an adult. He hates himself for letting any of that happen. 

Sirius obviously doesn't realize any of that or he wouldn't say what he said in PoA. 

Then, and this is just my personal theory: 

I think that at some point between the end of PoA and OotP where Harry discusses Snape's worst memory with Remus and Sirius they talked about it. 

There seems to have been some introspection on Sirius's part and I don't particularly see him having that reached on his own. And the way they are interacting with each other hints to me that they had a chat. 

So, Harry retells Snape's memory, says James only started to torment Snape because Sirius was bored  and then:  

"“I’m not proud of it”, said Sirius quickly.

Lupin looked sideways at Sirius, then said, “Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away-”

“If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean”, said Sirius. 

Lupin smiled.

[...]

“Of course he was a bit of an idiot”, said Sirius bracingly, “we were all idiots! Well - Moony not so much”, he said fairly, looking at Remus." 

As I said, that's just my personal opinion, but to me it sounds as though -maybe- they talked about their past in the meanwhile. I mean . Sirius is sent to stay with Remus after GoF ("lie low at Lupin's") and then in OotP Remus is staying with him at Grimmauldplace. They surely have some time to talk about things. And if the whole prank/running around Hosgmeade thing is bothering Remus as an adult (and he just let it slip in PoA because it wasn't the place and time to address it in the Shack with Sirius trying to murder Peter), I can totally see them having that talk. Because as an adult, Remus doesn't seem to have that much of a problem to stand up to Sirius anymore ("Sirius, sit down!")

Do I think this course of events is 'right' or makes perfect sense? No. I think it would make more sense for Remus to be angry about the whole thing, even back then, as a teenager. But I don't see Remus roaming Hogsmeade either and he obviously did that. So, as I said before, please go for your "big fight after the prank"-fanfictions, I love a good deal of them. There's so much potential in the "big fight-thing.

And of course we don't have to stick to everything Rowling wrote (and sometimes definitely shouldn't!). But...

What bothers me is I rarely ever see a different approach.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 62

Chapter Highlights (but let’s be real all this chapter already is)

The Crochans did not scatter to the winds.

As one, the Thirteen and the Crochans flew to the southwest, toward the outer reaches of the Fangs. To another secret camp, since the location of the other was well and truly compromised. Farther from Terrasen, but closer to Morath, at least.

A small comfort, Dorian thought, when they found a secure place to camp for the night. The wyverns might have been able to keep going, but the Crochans on their brooms could not fly for so long. They'd flown until darkness had nearly blinded them all, landing only after the Shadows and Crochans had agreed on a secure place to stay.

Watches were set, both on the ground and in the sky. If the two surviving Matrons were to retaliate for their humiliating defeat, it would be now. The Crochans and Asterin had spent much of their time today laying misleading tracks, but only time would tell if they'd escaped.

The night was frigid enough that they took the time to erect tents, the wyverns huddling together against one of the rocky overhangs.

And though no fires would have been wiser, the cold threatened to be so lethal that Glennis had taken the sacred flame from the glass orb where it was held while traveling and ignited her fire.

Others had followed suit, and while glamours would be in place to hide the camp, the fires, from enemy eyes, Dorian couldn't entirely forget that the Ironteeth Matrons had found them regardless.

Sleep had almost dragged him under when a burst of cold slithered into the tent, then vanished. He knew who it was before she sat beside his bedroll, and when he opened his eyes, he found Manon with her knees drawn up, arms braced atop them.

She stared into the dimness of his tent, the space illumined with silvery light from the glowing stars on her brow.

"You don't have to wear it all the time," he said. "We're allowed to take them off."

Golden eyes slid toward him. "I've never seen you wear a crown."

"The past few months haven't provided much access to the royal collection." He sat up.

"And I hate wearing them anyway. They dig mercilessly into my head."

A hint of a smile. "This is not so heavy."

"Since it seems made of light itself, I'd imagine not." Though that crown would weigh heavily in other ways, he knew.

"So you're talking to me," she said, not bothering to segue gracefully.

"I talked to you before."

"Is it because I am now queen?"

"You were queen prior to today."

Her golden eyes narrowed, scanning him for the answer she sought. Dorian let her do it, and returned the favor. Her breathing was steady, her posture at ease for once.

"I thought it would be more satisfying. To see her run." Her grandmother. "When you killed your father, what did you feel?"

"Rage. Hate." He didn't balk from the truth in his words, the ugliness.

She chewed on her lower lip, no sign of those iron teeth. A rare, silent admission of doubt. "Do you think I should have killed her?"

"Some might say yes. But humiliating her like that," he said, considering, "might weaken her and the Ironteeth forces more than her death. Killing her might have rallied the Ironteeth against you."

"I killed the Yellowlegs Matron."

"You killed her, spared the Blueblood witch, and your grandmother fled. That's a demoralizing defeat. Had you killed them all, even killed just your grandmother and the Yellowlegs Matron, it could have turned their deaths into noble sacrifices on behalf of the Ironteeth Clans."

She nodded, her golden eyes settling on him again with that preternatural clarity and stillness. "I am sorry," she said. "For how I spoke when I learned of your plans to go to Morath."

He was stunned enough that he just blinked.

Stunned enough that humor was his only shield as he said, "Seems like that Crochan do-gooder behavior is rubbing off on you, Manon."

A half smile at that. "Mother help me if I ever become so dull."

But Dorian's amusement faded away. "I accept your apology." He held her gaze, letting her see the truth in it.

It seemed answer enough for her. Answer, and somehow the final clue to what she sought.

Her golden eyes guttered. "You're leaving," she breathed. "Tomorrow."

He didn't bother to lie. "Yes."

It was time. She had faced her grandmother, had challenged what she'd created. It was time for him to do the same. He didn't need Damaris's confirming warmth or the spirits of the dead to tell him that.

"How?"

"You witches have brooms and wyverns. I've learned to make my own wings."

For a few breaths, she said nothing. Then she lowered her knees, twisting to face him fully. "Morath is a death trap."

"It is."

"I—we cannot go with you."

"I know."

He could have sworn fear entered her eyes.

Yet she didn't rage at him, roar at him-didn't so much as snarl. She only asked, "You're not afraid to go alone?"

"Of course I'm afraid. Anyone in their right mind would be. But my task is more important than fear, I think."

Anger flickered over her face, her shoulders tensing.

Then it faded and was replaced by something he had seen only earlier today-that queen's face. Steady and wise, edged with sorrow and bright with clarity. Her eyes dipped to the bedroll, then lifted to meet his own. "And if I asked you to stay?"

The question also took him by surprise. He carefully thought through his answer. "I'd need a very convincing reason, I suppose.

Her fingers went to the buckles and buttons of her leathers, and began to loosen them.

"Because I don't want you to go," was all she said.

His heart thundered as she revealed inch after inch of bare, silken skin. Not a seductive removal of her clothing, but rather an offer laid bare.

Manon said softly, "We could make an alliance. Between Adarlan, and the Crochans. And any Ironteeth who might follow me."

It was her answer, he realized. To his request for a convincing reason to remain.

She took his hand, and interlaced their fingers.

It was more intimate than anything they'd shared, more vulnerable than she'd ever allowed herself to be. "An alliance," she said, throat bobbing, "between you and me."

Her golden eyes lifted to his, the offer gleaming there.

To marry. To unite their peoples in the strongest, most unbreakable of terms.

"You don't want that," he said with equal quiet. "You would never want to be shackled to any man like that."

He could see the truth there, in her beautiful face. That she agreed with him. But she shook her head, the starlight dancing on her hair. "The Crochans have not offered to fly to war. I have not yet dared ask them. But if I had the strength of Adarlan beside me, perhaps they might be convinced at last."

If they had not been convinced by today's triumph, then nothing would change their minds. Even their queen offering up the freedom she craved so badly.

That Manon would even consider it, though

...

Dorian twined a wave of her silver hair around his finger. For a heartbeat, he allowed himself to drink her in.

She would be his wife, his queen. She was already his equal, his match, his mirror in so many ways. And with their union, the world would know it.

But he could see the bars of the cage that would creep closer, tighter, every day. And either break her wholly, or turn her into something neither of them wished her to ever be.

"You would marry me, all so we could aid Terrasen in this war?"

"Aelin is willing to die to end this conflict. Why should she bear the brunt of sacrifice?"

And there it was, her answer, though he knew she didn't realize it.

Sacrifice.

Dorian's other hand went to the buttons of her pants, and freed them with a few, deft maneuvers. Revealing the long, thick scar across her abdomen.

Would he have shown the restraint that Manon did today, had he faced her grandmother?

Absolutely not.

"You were right," she said quietly. "I am afraid." Manon laid her hand over his. "I am afraid that you will go into Morath and return as something I do not know. Something I shall have to kill."

"I know." Those same fears haunted his steps.

Her fingers tightened on his, pressing harder. As if she were trying to imprint his hand upon the heart racing beneath. "Would you stay here, if we had this alliance between us?" He heard every word left unspoken.

So Dorian brushed his mouth against hers. Manon let out a small sound.

Dorian kissed her again, and her tongue met his, hungry and searching. Then her hands were plunging into his hair, both of them rising onto their knees to meet halfway.

Manon drew her hands from him to remove the glittering crown atop her head, but he halted her with a phantom touch. "Don't," he said, voice near-guttural. "Leave it on."

Her eyes turned to molten gold, going heavy-lidded, tipping her head back.

His mouth went dry at the beauty that threatened to undo him, the temptation that his every instinct roared to claim. Not the body, but what she had offered.

He almost said yes, then.

Was almost selfish enough, greedy enough for her, that he nearly said yes. Yes, he would take her as his queen. So he might never have to say farewell to this, so that this magnificent, fierce witch might remain by his side for all his days.

Manon reached for him, fingers digging into his shoulders, and Dorian rose over her, finding her mouth in a plundering kiss.

A shift of her hips, and he was buried, the heated silk of her enough to make him forget that they had a camp around them, or kingdoms to protect.

Stay. The word echoed in each breath.

Dorian gave Manon what she wanted. Gave himself what he wanted. Over and over and over.

As if this might last forever.

What was left to be said anyway?

She'd laid out what she wanted. Had spoken as much of the truth as she dared voice.

In its wake, a sated sort of clarity shone.

Such as she had not felt in a long, long time.

His sapphire eyes lingered on her face, and Manon turned toward him. Slowly removed her crown of stars and set it aside.

Then she drew up the blankets around them both.

He didn't so much as flinch as she scooted closer, into the solid muscle of his body.

No, Dorian only draped an arm over her, and pulled her tightly against him.

Manon was still listening to his breathing when she fell asleep, warm in his arms.

She awoke at dawn to a cold bed.

Manon took one look at the empty place where the king had been, at the lack of supplies and that ancient sword, and knew.

Dorian had gone to Morath. And had taken the two Wyrdkeys with him.

[cool-cowboy]

Summary:

In which Leon, your long time partner, finds out your dirty little secret, said secret being you've got a thing for praise, which he uses to his advantage, teasing the hell out of you and somehow ending up overtop you in a stranger's bed. He's a little messy with it, not as smooth as he'd like you to believe, but indulges in your wants as well as he can. Older Leon, I think, he wouldn't be this brazen when he was younger probably. Enjoy!

Tags:

Praise kink, older man younger woman, teasing, light humiliation, embarrassment, oral sex, cum shot, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstim, face-sitting, missionary, unprotected sex

Blurb:

“Relax… You’re almost done… Doing so good, nearly finished…” He’s muttering, voice low and rough, breath fanning over my throat, my heart beat kicking up under his thumb, something I pray to every possible God he doesn’t notice. “You like that?”

Text:

“It’s fine, Leon, I can take care of it-”

“Just shut it and let me, you’re bleeding all over the place.” I sigh, dramatic, but he’s making too big a deal of it, making me nervous with his face this close to mine, his hands on one side of my neck and wiping antiseptic over the other, damn bow and arrow guy almost killed me. He keeps looking at me, has me sat on some weird ass box, some trunk in the only empty house he could find to drag me into, the freaks outside being of the more persistent type.

“Jesus christ that hurts-!” I lean my head back, nose crinkled in discomfort, one hand clenched into his jacket, nails tight over a muscular arm, not that it seems he’s ever noticed me drooling over them, probably never thought of me like that, considering I’m not quite as old as him. He does flirt, but that’s just him, I think, we’ve worked together a little while, but I still haven’t quite figured him out, he’s odd, protective but withdrawn, afraid to get close then have me die, I guess, not that he has much of a choice, considering we’ve spent majority of the past few months stuck together.

“Relax… You’re almost done… Doing so good, nearly finished…” He’s muttering, voice low and rough, breath fanning over my throat, my heart beat kicking up under his thumb, something I pray to every possible God he doesn’t notice. “You like that?” The gods hate me, I guess. He laughs, amused with his finding, to my embarrassment, my face burning when he forces my chin down, making me look at his smug face, all too pleased to have found a weakness, something he finds entirely too much joy in exploiting.

“Just- Hurry up, okay?” He hums, letting his gaze drift back down to his work, his expression still pleased, the thumb pressed to my pulse fanning up and down as he smears antibiotic over my wound, the action making me flinch, his hand holding me perfectly still.

“Sit still… I know you can take it… Just- I just gotta bandage you up and you’re finished.” The wording is… Questionable, and he knows it, peering up at me with a forced down smile, all too happy to tease me, his eyes taking a few seconds to drink in the red surely spread over my cheeks before he’s back to it, taping a little gauze square to the side of my throat. “There you go, good girl, not so bad, huh?” He taps the side of my knee, acting like he’s not ruining me on purpose, pretending this is how he’s always spoken to me, even if it is the opposite.

“Pretty bad, hurts like a bitch.” He musses my hair, something that seriously makes me want to wring his neck, the shit’s already hard enough to keep intact while we’re out, without him trying to ruin it.

“You’ll be fine, yeah? You’re stronger than that, now let’s go kill the bastard.” He collects his precious shotgun, tossing my handgun, giving that same, subdued smile when I catch it. “Nice catch, partner.” He walks off, leaving me to follow along, feeling feverish, not only at his praise, but at his teasing, his seeming interest.

“Okay, Leon, Don’t you think that’s enough?” He spins around, backing me into the wall, loving my nervousness, seeming giddy to have me lose my cool, not something he usually gets to witness, at least not of a nervous sort.

“Look at you… That look is… Wow.” He’s taking this too far, really, turning me into a mess with his sweet words, head tilted affectionately, a hand on the wall above my head, soft words contrasting his rough look, the combination undeniably sexy, even if I already found him attractive before he started indulging my secret fantasy.

“Leon, we have a-”

“Who knew? Actually, makes sense, sweet thing like you… Course you’d love this shit. You look good like this, blushin’ like that…” Okay, this is going too far, he’s being a little too obvious now, trying to give me a goddamn heart attack, looking so teasing, smirking and staring at me with the prettiest eyes I’ve probably ever seen.

“You- Can you- Just-God…” I push him, not that it does much, he waits for me to quit, just looks at me until I drop my hands, looking at him, halfway wishing that arrow would’ve killed me.

“Can I what? Stop? Y’know… I don’t think you want that…” He’s leaned closer, face only a few inches above mine, warm breath blown in my face, all of him warm, big, his words soft and sweet, the entirety of this making me near sickly with how embarrassed I am, that and how much I’m secretly enjoying the teasing, not so secret now, since he apparently is so in tune with what I want.

“What… You- What are you… Getting at?” He smiles, I guess glad I’m finally getting to the point, my entire back side pressed to the wall when he dips down, speaking close to my ear, his face out of view, hidden to the side of my face.

“What I’m getting at, pretty girl… Is that you seem pretty damn interested, and I won’t lie, you’re so damn cute I’ve barely kept myself tied up this long…” He pulls back, tilting his head at me, sucking his teeth, giving me a few seconds to process, not nearly long enough to mull over his confession, whether purely physical or not, I can’t complain, not when he’s so good with his words, so soft and kind, something a little less than gentlemanly. “So… Question is, can you keep a secret?” I’ve never seen him like this, usually he’s nothing near smooth, but I guess he has no reason to fumble over his words, with me all nervous there’s not really much for him to be afraid of.

“You mean- I don’t- here?” He hums, affirmative, not seeming to have any qualms about sex in a random dead person’s home, or sex against company policy, any kind of relationship among agents is not allowed, not that that’s stopped some others, none of us are really very keen on being faithful to the DSO, considering their questionable recruitment process.

“Why not? C’mon, I’ll take good care of you, swear it… Unless I uh… I’m… Making an ass of myself right now, misreading-”

“No! Uh- I mean… No. I just-”

“Don’t be scared of the damn agency. You’re a good agent, they won’t do shit.” I nod, agreeing, breathless already, excited to get what I’ve been wishing for for months, along with the added bonus of my want for praise being out in the open, something I’m sure he’ll indulge considering how he’s been using it against me. “Yeah? You want it, sweet girl? Go ahead, say it, you wanna let me show you something really worthy praise? Or… We can get going, forget all about this, I won’t even grill you about it…Probably.” No way I’m letting go of this opportunity, even if I am sick from nervousness, the blush probably spread down my neck, hands shaking as he looks at me, always patient.

“I… Let’s stay here…” His lips pull up, pleased, his lips dipping toward mine, slow, pausing half an inch away, my eyes flitting open to see him looking at me, smiling wide, happy with his trick.

“Look at you… Such a good girl… So ready for it, huh? Good… perfect…” He kisses me, bringing the hand not on the wall to hold onto my jaw, keeping me where he wants me, his strength a major turn on, scary in a way, even if I know he’d never hurt me. He’s softer than i expected, taking his time when we don’t have much, my attempt to speed things up earning me a squeeze of his hand, his lips trailing down, his breathing a little uneven. “God… Be good, sweetheart… Let me take my time… Girl as gorgeous as you… Deserves a lot more attention… Gonna get my lips on every inch of this perfect body… Make you feel so damn good you can’t take it…” He pulls my legs up over his hips, slow, his body pressing mine into the wall, hands under my thighs, supporting me, lips skimming their way back up my throat. “Think Hunnigan’ll wonder what we’re up to?” I frown, not liking that thought, gripping his hair when he pulls me away from the wall, lack of stability scaring me, only a little, his grip keeping me perfectly safe from falling carrying me over to the only bed, seeming clean enough, the comforter a creamy white, no blood, at least.

“I’ll uh- I’ll tell her we’re holed up for now…” He huffs a laugh, leaning over to lay me out, crawling his way over me, up on one hand, the other skimming across the waist of my pants toward my hip, his eyes on my face, watching my reaction, seeming pleased with my squirming, apparently a bigger fan of my characteristic impatience than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah? Gonna lie? How bad of you… Go ahead, I’ll feel free to… Entertain myself.” He leans down, settling on his elbow to bring his lips close to my neck, the heat of him trailing up, his hand sliding up the length of my side, big and warm through my shirt.

“Can you- Get away from my ear.” I push him, and he sighs, not happy to have whatever he was planning interrupted, pulling back and sitting himself up, one of his knees between mine, his eyes on me, watching as I lift my finger to my ear, his hands sliding down, easing my legs up over his hips, his knees to either side of my hips. “Roost? This is Condor one, were- Uh- We got into a bit of an… Issue-” He squeezes my thighs, drawing my eyes back to him when I let them wander, getting me to watch him slide them up, pausing at my hips to tease his thumbs under my shirt, my mouth gaping when Hunnigan tunes in, in utter disbelief he’s not even waiting until I finish to continue his teasing.

“Roost here, is everything alright?” He’s leaned down over me, kissing at my stomach, hands on my hip and beside the other, lips kissing over the sliver of skin exposed, across from my stomach to my hip, his hand pushing up on my shirt, eyes on me.

“Uh- Well we- We’re holed up for now, trying to… recoup.” He hums, agreeing, thankfully after I’ve taken my finger off the receiver, his lips trailing their way up the center of my stomach, shirt pushed up to just below my bra, hand trailed back down to grip my hip, my legs eased further and further bent the higher he moves, soft words spoken into my skin, muttered so low I don’t even think they’re meant for me.

“Roger that. Tune in when you’re on the move and I’ll give further direction. Roost out.” That’s the last of it, thank god, my heart is pounding, fear of being caught adding some sick edge to this he seems to enjoy, looking up at me as he kisses his way across my ribs, smiling, making little humming noises as he goes.

“God job, sweetheart, so good… Smooth, yeah?” I huff, though I’m not sure if he means it as a serious compliment or just another tease. “Well, now that that’s over with… Let me get a look at how pretty you are without all this, yeah?” He sits up, only a little, pulling up on my shirt and humming in approval when I lift up to let him get it off, his lips trailing further, up over the center of my bra and between my breast, his eyes staring up at me, propped on my elbows to watch him work. “That’s it… Good girl… Gonna have to reward you, huh? I’m a little… Out of practice, but don’t worry… I’ll show you what a girl like you deserves…” He’s headed further up, kissing along my collar bone, outside to inside, before trailing up the side of my neck, rasping against my throat between increasingly feverish kisses. “Drive you up the goddamn wall… Cause I wanna see… Just how pretty you get…” He pauses his kissing to speak against my ear, low and breathy, his quiet promise sending a shiver through me. “When you can’t take another fucking second.” He huffs, amused, pulling back to get a look at my expression before leaning down, pressing his lips to mine, slow, a low pleased noise vibrating into our kiss, his hand teasing at my bra, hand slotted just beneath, thumb fanning lightly between my breasts.

“Le- Can I..?” I push at him, gentle,and he indulges me, flopping over beside me on his back, giving me the freedom to do as I please, straddle him, run my hands over the front of his shirt, my eyes on the movement, his on me.

“God… Glad I listened… Shit, you look damn good sat up over me… Could stare at you all day…” I smile, can’t help it, he’s being so sweet, never usually so talkative, or nice, mostly neutral, but I guess it was a ruse, because now he’s fawning, dick already hard beneath me, staring up at me with big hands splayed over my hips.

“Leon?” He hums, and I lean over him, hands on his chest, muscle soft beneath my hands. “What is this?” He looks confused, only for a moment, then pensive, mulling it over, my request for some form of label, how into this I’m allowed to be.

“I’m- It’s not- I don’t want it to be just this time… If that’s what you mean. You’re… Probably the only person I’d do this with… only one I got time for. I’m not- I don’t wanna use you, I like you I just-”

“Can’t.” We don’t have time to be in love, or the life security, relationships aren’t really in the cards, other than mindless flings, not that that’s really what this is, it’s something else entirely, not that either of us would say that, it’s not real if it stays buried, after all, won’t hurt as bad when one of us ends up dead. “Okay- Sorry, I just-”

“Yeah, I know. Me too.” I nod, swallowing down whatever feelings are making me feel sick and kissing him, a hand to the side of his face, the other pressed to the mattress, both of his sliding from my hips to my ribs. “You’re so warm… Feels so damn good…” He’s never going to shut up, apparently, keeps mumbling between kisses, my nails raking down his stomach drawing a low pleased noise out of him, my fingers easing their way up under the hem earning me his hands squeezing my ass, not rough, just enough to show he’s still the boss, authoritative. “You’re sure… Taking your time… Be a… Good girl and… Get those hands… moving…” I don’t really like being told what to do, or maybe I do, either way I listen, slide my hand up under his shirt, sighing contentedly at the feel of his abs, letting my lips trail down from his, down over his jaw, which I nose at to get him to tilt his head back, lips trailing along the underside then down the right side of his throat, his hands moving me against him, grinding me into him, his voice going a little breathier. “Holy shit… Doing so good… You look so fuckin’ good all over me…” I hum, pleased with his honesty, his words giving me little hints on how to please him. I push his shirt up, giving myself access to his abs, leaving it pooled there as I kiss my way over his shirt, down to the skin I unclothed, the movement forcing him to release my hips, one hand laid on the bed, the other collecting my hair to keep it out of the way, whether for my sake or his viewing pleasure I’m not sure, but I don’t mind, just continue on down, settling myself on my stomach between his legs, hand teasing at his belt, face an inch away from the obvious bulge in his pants. “Shit, go ahead, let me see how pretty you are with my dick down your throat.” I smile, only a little, resting my head on his thigh and looking at him, aware by now that eye contact is something he enjoys, my hand sliding down to run over his erection, his lips parting at the light touch, missing the friction of my hips against him. “C’mon, hurry up so I can have my turn, yeah? Wanna get you off over and over again, get you sobbing for it, get you to make some sweet sounds for me. You want that? Then you better hurry up, there you go, so good, listening so well…” His impatience is rubbing off on me I guess, his belt’s off in a second, pants pulled down and off with only a little assistance, my hand returning to its place, palming at him through his boxers, offering a few seconds of relief and eye contact before I get rid of them as well, settling myself back down and having a look at what I’m working with.

“Jesus christ.” I shouldn’t have expected anything less, of course I didn’t expect it to be small, but this is way toward the larger side, bigger than my face when I grip it to hold it upright, letting my face rest on his thigh as I run my hand over him, pausing at the tip to smear some pre down, his eyes shut, head tilted back, mouth gaping. “Feels good?” I’m teasing, trying to regain some of the power he seems to think he has all of, get myself out of this little submissive hole I’ve dug myself into, that is until he opens his eyes, looking down at me in his pleased way, making me feel small, obedient, even if that is weird.

“So good, baby… Can you use your mouth? Wanna be a good girl and suck my dick?” I don’t say anything, already well aware I don’t have it in me to refuse when he’s being so sweet, speaking so softly, holding my hair back for me as I sink down, taking half before I gag, pulling back up with wet eyes and taking a little less, looking at him, face and lips flushed, eyes low, enjoying himself for probably the first time I’ve ever seen. “That’s it… Feels so good… You’re so hot… Doing so good…” I moan an approval against him, enjoying his praise maybe a little too much, trying my best to please him, bobbing up and down and gagging myself on him, staring at him, tears near overflowing with how rough I’m being on myself. “God- You’re real-ah- real good at that, sweetheart. Look so- so good gagged on my dick- so-fuck- pretty…” I’m giving him a hard time, a hand gripped to his thigh for stability, nails digging in earning me a low groan, the sound sending a pleasured shiver through me, happy to please. He’s moving, just barely, I’m not even sure if he notices, his eyes closed, head tilted back as he thrusts up into my mouth, holding tight to my hair, his noises a little less clipped, wanton. “Shit, gonna-hah- cum if you keep that up. You-Nnh- you want that? Yeah? Want my-ah- my- want me to cum down your perfect-oh shit- Fuck, sweetheart- you- you- Doing so good-hah- so good.” He’s got a hand over his mouth, muffling now that he’s getting a little loud, keeping himself quiet as I choke on him, letting him press deeper, feeling a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen as I work over him, letting out a surprised noise when he presses a knee to the crotch of my pants, grinding it into me, head tilted back down to watch some more. “Hey-shit- Want you to- to uh- God, take what you want, want you to-ah- feel good too. C’mon-shit, that’s it, there-ah- there- fuckin’ shit… Gonna cum sweetheart, you’re doing such a good-ah- a good job- Just-shit- A little-Nnh- more and- fuck- take it- take it for me, yeah, shit, shit-” He holds me down, pulling me off him when I make a frankly disturbing sputtering noise, his hand smoothing at my hair even as his eyes are squeezed shut, his back arched up off the bed as he makes a mess, my head held back by my hair as he empties all over his own stomach.

“I was fine.” He opens his eyes up, still low, his lips parted as he looks at me, smoothing the hair he was pulling on, soothing my scalp, his free hand pulling his shirt a little higher to keep it out of his mess. “Great view though.” He laughs, releasing me, staying laid back on the mattress, just looking at me, seeming dazed, coming down from his orgasm.

“Yeah? I bet mine was better… Now I’m feeling a little impatient to return the favor… But I’m a little… Can you grab somethin’ to clean this off?” I nod, sliding off the bed to have a look around, grabbing some random cloth sitting around and bringing it back to him, batting his hands away when he sits up to take it from me, wiping away the mess as he works on my pants, getting me under him the second I toss the cloth to the side, kissing at my chest, a hand pressing it’s way beneath me to unhook my bra and pulling it down my arms when he’s done, his mouth closing over a nipple, sucking and groaning, his hands back down on my pants, easing them down over my hips then pausing, working his mouth over to the opposite side, licking then closing his mouth over my other nipple, thumb pressed to my clit over my panties in the meantime, rubbing up and down, offering a little relief, my hands in his hair egging him on, sucking a little harder and drawing a low groan out of me.

“Leon, c’mon, hurry up.” He pops his lips off my skin, giving me a joking scolding look before trailing his lips down, along the center of my stomach until he’s kissing my clit, sucking on it through my panties, his hands working on my pants before he tosses them away, settling himself between my thighs, shoulders beneath, head trapped between, lips against me, sucking, eyes low and staring.

“God you’re pretty… I’m so damn lucky… Took my dick so well I’ve gotta give you a reward… Let’s get these off, yeah?” He pulls, sitting halfway up to get them off, giving them a longing look before adding them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. “Fuck, haven’t been this glad to do anything in… I’ve got no idea…” He presses one of my legs up, giving me a look and letting go with my thigh to the outside of my ribs, expecting me to leave it there, and I do, just watch him slide his hand down, his expression entirely pleased, gooey with pleasure. “So good… You listen so well, sweetheart… Gonna make you feel good… Want you makin’ a mess all over me…” He presses his thumb into my slick, trailing it up and rubbing at my clit, not all that fast, just rubbing up and down and watching me, his cheek pressed to my thigh, his expression hazy, lustful and nearly affectionate. “You’re doin’ so good, but I need you to let me take care of you, give you what you need… I know you can take it, you just gotta let me give it to you…” He’s moved onto circles, adding a little pressure and a little more wetness, working me up quickly, his free hand gripped to the front of my thigh, holding me still, my eyes gone closed, hands dug into his hair and the side of his forearm, legs beginning to shake spurring him on, his tone a little less lax, excited at the thought of getting me off. “Yes, fuck, so pretty, this is so hot, you’re so good, shaking like that, c’mon, you’re so close, want you to cum for me, make a mess, let me show you… There it is, there you go, pretty girl, just let go, you sound so pretty-shit- yes, yes-” He holds me still, only thing I can do it press back into the mattress and yank at his hair, not that he minds, just mutters his way through it, working me back down until I slump, feeling fuzzy and spent, still a little out of it when he flips us over, sitting me up over his face and pressing me down, making a displeased noise when I try to escape his tongue lapping at my oversensitive clit.

“Le- Wait-! I need a break-”

“No you don’t. C’mon, you can take it, I’ll make you feel good, just be a good girl and sit this pretty pussy on my face.” I do, not all that sure, feeling a little overwhelmed as he licks at me, legs shaking with overstimulation making him groan, way too eager to send me toward another high, working his tongue against me and holding me down over him with hands on my waist, keeping me from running from the pleasure even when it becomes near painful. “Fuck, taste so damn good, could eat you out all goddamn day… Why don’t you help me, ride my fuckin’ face-shit-!” He seems near frantic at the idea, going back to work as soon as he’s done speaking and groaning into me when he slides a hand down to my ass, gripping and pushing, urging me to grind, and I do, the friction making me moan, low and strained, my body leaned back on a hand, planted on his thigh, for stability. “Nnh- G’nna c’m g’n?” He speaks against me, not that I’m really listening, my body tight with another orgasm, so close, my nails digging into the skin of his thigh making him moan, muffled, hurried words spoken against me between movement of his tongue. “F’ck-Y’h, so h’t-G’d girl- C’m f’r me, y’h, f’ck y’s-” I give into it, let it wash over me, a hazy, warm pleasure, my body twitching an an honestly embarrassing manner, head leaned back and hips working against his face as I come down, breathing heavy, groaning when he doesn’t stop, sucks at my clit a little longer than what's comfortable, my low groan getting him to stop, letting me lift my hips off him before he’s over me again, kissing up from my hip, all the way to my lips, smearing spit and slick all over me in his haste, his breathing heavy, excited, his kisses quick and deep. “Did so good… Fuckin’ soaked me… Good fuckin’ girl… You want more? Or ‘re you done?” I wrap my legs around him, hoping it’s a good enough answer, considering he’s not giving me a second between kisses, messy and frantic, all of him all over me, both of us sweaty and covered in mess. “Yeah..? Gonna let me make you cum again..? Wanna see your face when I get you cumming on my dick… Gonna fuck you so damn good you never think about anyone else.” He reaches between us, lining himself up and pressing, the stretch a little uncomfortable, dick a little too big to fit, presssure on my cerivx making me squirm, his words rushed, worried. “Fuck, I’m hurting you? God, I’ll uh, we can-”

“It’s fine- Just- I’ll get used to it, yeah?” He doesn’t look pleased, but nods, pulling out and pressing one of my legs to the outside of my ribs, his other hand rested beside me to hold him up, eyes cast down as he sink back in, the girth already a little more comfortable, his thrust shallower, thankfully, His mouth open, chest heaving as he moves, keeping it slow, unnecessary. “You can- You don’t have to be so careful.” He groans, speeding up a little, pressure on my cervix a dull kind of pain, not exactly bad, unfamiliar.

“God-So fuckin’ tight- Fuck, am I hurting you? Am I? Okay, shit, gotta tell me, sweetheart, tell me if it’s-ah- too much, okay?” I agree, and he continues, sliding his hand around my thigh to instead grip my hip, pulling me to meet his trhusts, looking me in the eyes. “Holy shit you’re pretty- You feel better than-hah- than anything I’ve- Shit, let me-” He releases his grip to rub at my clit, making me squirm, the pleasure too much, more than my body’s used to, making me shake and move, but he keeps me still, stares into my face as I tilt my head back in search of escape, eyes closed and teeth gritted. “Yeah? Fuck- Can’t stop looking at you, you’re-Ah- Gorgeous, so damn pretty I can’t- I can’t fucking take it- Lookin’ at me like that- such a good girl, take my dick so- so well.” I’m nearly there, worked up so fast I’m nearly curled into a ball, tight with the anticipation of it, and so is he, except he looks distraught, mouth gaping, brows drawn low and together, his thumb rubbing at my clit feeling raw, my body shaking so bad I’d be embarrassed if I had it in me to be. “Want you to cum-ah- one more time. Just- Just wanna feel you squeeze my dick before I have to pull out of this perfect fucking pussy. ‘d spend all day buried inside if I could, fuck-! You’re cumming? Yeah you are, pretty girl, there you go, doing so damn good, shit, oh fuck-!” He pulls out, leaving me to clench around nothing and kiss him back as he cums all over my lower stomach, moaning into my mouth and working me down with his thumb, pulling it away the second before it becomes too much, knowing just when I’m spent, his lips parting from mine so he can rest his forehead to my forehead, both of us sweaty, panting, coming down from probably the most rewarding love-making I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying. “Home this guy wasn’t planning on coming home anytime soon…” I huff, pushing him up to seated and following, having a look at the mess all over me before meeting his eyes, his eyes staring dazedly at me, well my stomach, sticky with his release.

“You wanna get something-”

“Shit, yeah, yes-”

[inkblot22]

Jamil Headcanons

Hmm. This would have been a lot longer if I had no self-control or the desperate need for sleep. Enjoy! (It also just dawned on me that it should be more sensible for me to be more scared of Jamil than of Rook, Floyd, or Jade, and I now think this is a very funny thought. Anyways-)

This one is sort of brutal, so TW for yandere, captivity, betrayal (?), physical abuse, emotional abuse, kidnapping, drugging, bone breaking, and a hint of Stockholm syndrome.

I like to think that when Jamil becomes lovesick for someone, that person already likes him. Between the two of them, you would think that you were the creepier one in this situation, since your little schoolkid crush on him has devolved into your every waking thought being consumed by him, his smug little smirk, the way his eyes change color in the light, the silkiness of his hair… it goes on and on and you can’t sleep without seeing him in your dreams.

While that sounds fine and dandy, it isn’t. You’re trying to keep it a secret because you’re pretty certain Jamil only wants to be friends, floating by on the thin hope that your feelings will fade with time, but Kalim’s narrow behind has caught onto the fact that you like his one-sided best friend and has made it a point to obliviously make your life a living hell.

It comes to a head when you’re hanging out at Scarabia one afternoon, Jamil comes in to serve the two of you tea- you because he considers you a friend and Kalim out of nothing but duty- and Kalim opens his big mouth and just blurts out your secret.

“Did you know that they like you?” If you could die on command, you would. You want the earth to swallow you whole, but because your nerves hate you just as much as the universe, you end up just sweating as though you entered a volcano and laughing awkwardly as Jamil sniffs and responds in the worst way possible.

They always say that the worst someone can say when you ask them out is no. They never say what the worst thing someone can say when you get ratted out for your borderline obsession for them. Jamil answered that question very easily.

“What? I knew they were a creep, but I didn’t know that I was their target.”

Yeah… So it only makes sense that you decide to give him space. A lot of space. He doesn’t see you for several weeks and he is not pleased by your decision to avoid him.

Where you believe he thinks you’re a raving, drooling stalker, he sees someone pathetic who admires him, as he should be admired. And losing that admiration is something he doesn’t handle very healthily.

In those weeks that you don’t see him, he’s snappy, more sardonic than usual, seeing his classmates and even some of those who he respects as writhing maggots wasting his time. All he wants to see is your shy smile as you compliment him for something minor.

A lifetime of receiving nothing but disdain or flat apathy for doing his best has caused something of a fever to engulf him when he loses the one person whose opinion he cares about.

So he devises a plan- it’s easy. You have a bad habit of compromising your comfort for other’s, so he asks Kalim to throw a party and invite you.

Predictably, you show up. He hands Kalim a drink and asks him oh-so-nicely to give it to you. Kalim’s so amicable, he does exactly as told, and you’re so…pathetic, so you drink it all without question.

You’re slumped against the wall in minutes. You rouse in his room, tied by your wrists and ankles, barefoot and jacketless with a pounding headache.

The room reeks of his skin- a mixture of fresh soil, star anise, and mellow molasses. You figure out where you are almost immediately.

And he enters. And your mind immediately goes to panic mode.

See, where he sees you and is pleased by your presence, you see him and believe that he brought you here to kill you.

It’s illogical. Completely bonkers. But after not seeing him for nearly a month and having your last interaction be so bad? It only makes sense that maybe he wants to hurt you.

Besides that, Jamil is a champ at holding grudges. That’s one of his many talents. He can hold a grudge as though it’s sewn to his skin. 

So, unlucky you, for pissing him off by avoiding him. He sort of just talks down to you for a few hours, feeds you some really delicious saffron rice (which he will never tell you he slaved over,) and then unties you so you can go to the bathroom.

That last one struck you as strange, but it makes sense when you reenter his main room and his hand latches onto the back of your neck, dragging you towards his bed. He wrestles you down, ties your arms behind your back, then ties your legs- loosely at first.

He tightens the bonds after he gags you with both a rag and duct tape and stacks your legs, one knee over the other, before he turns to retrieve a few other items. 

A railroad spike, the sharp end ground down, two scraps of cloth and some foam padding, and a mallet.

He smooths the fabric and padding down on your knee before lining the blunted spike up with your knee and giving it one strong stroke of the hammer.

You scream, the sound still loud beyond your gag, and Jamil’s lips quirk into a smirk as he tells you everything will be just fine. And then he strikes down with the hammer again.

See, he could have just hypnotized you for this. He could have decided that this was something he didn’t want you to remember, but you pissed him off.

How dare you not spend time with him! How dare you avoid him after he called you a creep! He deserves your attentions and affections, because despite you thinking he didn’t know and simply wanted your friendship, he knew. He knew and enjoyed the special attention you gave him. But you just had to get your feelings hurt when he called you what you were.

So he breaks your kneecap with one more strong, sure strike of the hammer and sews your leg closed as you sweat and drool and howl and cry under your gag, delirious from pain and unable to think clearly. Pain itself is a great painkiller. You don’t even feel the needle.

Jamil secures your leg, splinting your knee and making sure the wound is clean. He waits for you to calm down before he smiles sweetly at you and shows you his pointer finger as though you are a child.

“If you ever want to walk again, don’t try moving.”

So you don’t. Once your leg heals, you walk with a pretty severe limp, and some days it hurts so bad that you can’t move at all.

And Jamil is always there to support you… even when you piss him off.

He punishes you when you do. Punishments are not something that a caring boyfriend doles out, but Jamil is not really a "caring boyfriend" and will treat you like dirt in a heartbeat.

He’ll smack you around, and when that doesn’t work, he gets creative- sitting up all night with one of his coconut-scented candles in your grasp, disregarding your comfort when tending any injuries you have, hiding the broom after he asked you to clean so he can pretend to be even angrier when he gets back…

The list goes on, but his favorite warning is a well-placed gut-kick. 

Jamil is harsh, and he’s not particularly kind. He knows you prefer being around him when he isn’t insulting you with every other word in that unimpressed voice of his, but he can’t help it.

You just look so cute when you cry.