#now i just need to strip down the cedar hope chest i grabbed and i will be well on my way...

[clichenuance]

wooden buggy/horse carriage seat ☺️

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Threats And First Meetings PT. 3

Brynjolf x F!Dragonborn

Word Count: 2,260 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Blood and Wounds

Author’s Note: Holy shit it’s been like...I don’t even know how long since I updated this *insert shrugging emoji* Enjoy! -Thorne

Brynjolf felt like he should’ve known that Gulum-Ei was the one brokering the deals that were tearing the Guild to pieces. The damned argonian couldn’t resist a payout, even if it was the Guild he was backstabbing—it said a lot about honor amongst thieves, and while Brynjolf couldn’t claim to be the most honorable, at least he had some. All things considered, he couldn’t fault Gulum-Ei for doing it, whoever it was that wanted the Guild taken out was no doubt dishing out some serious coin to make it happen.

           That being said, their newest member was again tasked with the mission. Brynjolf wasn’t going to voice his opinion out loud, but he knew that she was running herself into the ground. He was sure that she’d not taken a moment of reprieve to simply breathe before throwing herself back into the thick of things. Quite the opposite, she’d taken a couple more jobs from both Vex and Delvin—though Brynjolf was sure she’d only taken them because the two thieves had essentially guilt tripped her. He watched her as Mercer walked off, leaving her to rub at her temples, a heavy sigh falling from her lips.

           “Wondering if you’re in over your head, lass?” he inquired, leaning back against the desk as he crossed his arms over his chest.

           She snorted and rolled her shoulders. “Only every moment of every day, Brynjolf.” Catching his eyes, she quipped, “Why is it that I’m the one who’s being given the major missions and not the other members of the Guild?”

           He mocked a look of deep thought then offered, “You’re not a senior member so you do what we tell you? Her eyes briefly widened before she burst into laughter, the sound making Brynjolf’s stomach flip.

           “Oh ho? It’s seniority then?” she leaned close, mirth in her eyes as she questioned, “So when does the newbie get to claim seniority?”

           Brynjolf grinned at her. “I’d say a couple years.”

           “What!”

           “Maybe a few if I’m being completely honest.”

           A groan passed her lips. “By that time, you lot will actually be seniors—well, not that you’re young now.”

           He almost recoiled at that. Almost. “Did yo—did you just call me old?”

           She placed a hand on his bicep, sympathetically replying, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly a stripling anymore, Brynjolf.”

           Blinking, he deadpanned, “I don’t think I’ve ever been called old by a woman before.”

           Grinning, she asked, “Tell me, do all the young women you take to bed call you sprightly?” He nodded and she giggled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Brynjolf.”

           She leaned close until her lips brushed his ear, whispering, “When we call you older men sprightly, it’s only so you don’t feel bad about your age.”

           Brynjolf turned slightly, catching her gaze, and murmured, “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one day, lass.”

           Her eyes narrowed as she mused, “So far it’s gotten me out of trouble.” She pulled away and tugged the shawl over her bare shoulders, turning to make her way back to the Flagon.

           She stopped a few feet though and glanced over her shoulder. “But if it means I’d be in trouble with you, Brynjolf, I don’t think I’d mind it.” Winking, she left him to flounder with the suggestion of her words.

***

           Her side ached with a fury, and the continual prodding of the linen against the wound didn’t help. With each brush against the open wound, it sent a bolt of fire through her nerves, as if she were being stuck with a hot poker. Still though, she focused on returning to the city, knowing that if she could just get home, she’d be able to clean and stitch it up.

           Softly moaning, she slipped inside the gate, turning down the narrow alley that led into Honeyside’s garden. Briefly, she brought her free hand up and felt along the wall to lead her. As she neared the garden, movement flashed in her vision and she stopped in her tracks, squinting in the darkness to discern what it was. Someone was bent over one of the barrels in the corner and she growled.

           “This is private property. Piss off.”

           They stood upright, turning round to face her and when the moonlight illuminated their features beneath the hood, she muttered, “Brynjolf?”

           He raised a hand, pushing the hood up slightly, stepping towards her. “Lass? What are you doing here? I thought you were heading to Solitude?”

           She shook her head, then winced when a flash of nausea came over her. “No, had to do something’s around here before I did.” A sudden flash of pain simmered in her side and a groan passed her lips, the throbbing threatening to send her to her knees.

           “Lass?” he questioned, voice twinged with worry. “Are you alright?” Waving him off, she pulled from the wall, trying to get to the door of Honeyside.

           “‘m fine,” she grunted, though her vision began to blur with darkness. “Just gotta…get some rest.”

           She’d barely made it two feet when her knees finally gave out, sending her towards the dirt. Just before she hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from kissing the floor, pulling her up.

           “Lass!” he yelled, then he cursed, concerned that the guards would come running. “What happened?” he demanded, curling an arm under her legs to pick her up. The jostling made her groan, and she fought the urge to recoil from him when the buckle of his chest armor nudged her side.

           “Ngh—steam centurion in Avanchnzel.” She hissed when he started walking, switching her grip to curl her arm around his shoulders, hoping it would steady her. “Caught the backside of the battle—ngh—axe when I was dodging it.”

           Brynjolf turned and nudged the door to Honeyside open, bringing her inside.

           “When I’m not dying, I’m going to kick your ass for break—sonovabitch!” she gasped when he dropped her on the bed, hurrying towards the kitchen to gather supplies.

           He returned and started pulling the laces of her tavern corset undone. Despite the pain, she giggled, “Most men buy me dinner first.” A grin set on his lips as he pulled the last string loose, yanking the cedar-colored corset from around her.

           “I’ll treat you to dessert after,” he mused, then looked up at her. “Skirt or straps?”

           Her brows furrowed. “Beg pardon?”

           “Either I’m lifting your skirt up or I’m pulling your straps down. Make up your mind which decency you’d like to keep,” he countered, and she huffed, reaching up to slip the ringed straps from her shoulders.

           “Should’ve known a scoundrel like you was a skirt lifter. Despicable.”

           Brynjolf barked a laugh, helping her to roll the gold fabric down. “Please, I haven’t lifted skirts since I was a boy.”

           “Mhm.”

           “Honest, lass. I’ve grown out of immature acts like that,”’ he explained as the poorly wrapped wound came into sight. It’d soaked crimson in the time she’d travelled back, and he frowned as he untied the knot, gently peeling it back. She started to let out a whimper but grit her teeth and inhaled sharply.

           “Sorry lass,” Brynjolf murmured, wiping at the blood. He glanced up, watching as she propped herself up on her elbows, hands clenching into fists.

           “Just hurry up and seal it,” she griped, and he passed her a strip of leather. Seeming to understand, she brought it up to her mouth and bit into it, then met his eyes and nodded.

           Sighing heavily, he rose from the side of the bed and returned with the hot knife that had been sitting right next to the fire—she could feel the heat when he brought it close to her, kneeling back on the bed.

           He met her eyes and she inhaled deeply, giving him a nod of her head. Brynjolf rested his other hand on the side of her ribs a few inches above the wound, effectively bracing himself as well as keeping her still.

           Lowering the metal to her, he said, “Try and stay still. I don’t wanna burn you where you’re not wounded.” She barely made a noise of confirmation when the burning metal came into contact with her skin.

           Her eyes went wide, and she immediately threw her head back into the bed as a muffled scream escaped her, hands white knuckling the covers of her blanket. A deep pit fell in his stomach at the tears that began to run down her cheeks, but he kept the knife to her for another couple seconds before pulling it back, watching as her chest heaved with each breath. Glancing back at the wound, he knew she needed another go, probably two if he was honest.

           “I need to do it again,” Brynjolf murmured and she groaned like a dying animal. “I know lass, but you’re still bleeding.” She sucked in a quick breath through her nose and grunted, muscles tensing underneath his grip as she readied herself once more.

           He flipped the knife in his grip and placed it to her side again, and the screech that left her this time, made him wince, but he held it there. After a couple seconds, he pulled the knife away and examined the wound, and when he saw that it wasn’t bleeding anymore, he tossed the knife aside, letting it clatter to the floor.

           “Lass? You alright?” his eyes scanned her for any problems, and she turned her head to the side, spitting out the leather strip. Letting out a huff, she brought up a hand, intent to prod the wound, but he caught it. “Don’t touch it yet.” He met her eyes. “Do you have any distilled alcohol?”

           Groaning heavily, she nodded. “Downstairs in my…alchemy room.” She swallowed thickly. “There’s a few…health and disease potions too.” Meeting his eyes, she added, “Bring one of each…please.”

           Brynjolf nodded and headed down the stairs, coming up a few moments later with two tiny red vials and one large clear bottle. He set them on her nightstand before gently curling his arms underneath her back to shift her over slightly. When there was enough space, he sat beside her and grabbed the glass bottle, uncorked it, and poured some on a spare linen cloth. Brynjolf dabbed the wound, quietly apologizing when she hissed in pain.

           When he was finished, he took the fresh wrap and helped her sit up so he could wrap it around her waist. Tying it with a knot, he handed her the two vials, gazing as she downed them both before looking at him with an expression of relief. Suddenly feeling weak, she leaned forward, careful to avoid her wound, and pressed her forehead into Brynjolf’s shoulder. He brought up a hand, softly caressing the bare expanse of her back.

           “Thank you, Brynjolf,” she whispered, shivers running up her spin at his touch. “I would’ve been in a perilous state if you hadn’t been around.”

           Chuckling, he replied, “I would say anytime, but I don’t wanna have to do this again for a long time, so try to stay safe.”

           A snort escaped her, and she turned her head up, resting her cheek on his shoulder, gazing into his eyes. “Why try when this is the treatment?”

           His green eyes narrowed as he retorted, “While I’m flattered that you want me as a bedside-nurse, I really don’t wanna do this again.” He brough his other hand up, gently touching her cheek. “I already worry about you. No need to up it.”

           “You worry? Does that make me special?” she cooed tiredly, pulling away from him to lay back on the bed.

           Brynjolf huffed a laugh and stood, opening the closet beside her bed. “You enjoy teasing me, lass.”

           “Is it working?” she asked, watching as he pulled out a simple blue tunic. Shuffling around on the bed, she managed to wiggle the tavern skirt to her calves and when he spun around, Brynjolf’s eyes swept over her body.

           “Shame on you for ogling an indecent woman, Brynjolf. What would Lady Mara think?” she tutted, and he grinned at her.

           “I’m not sure about Lady Mara, but I certainly know what Lady Dibella would do,” he countered, and she giggled.

           “Now who’s teasing?” He handed her the tunic, and she shrugged it on, pulling it down her chest and over her thighs. Brynjolf helped her under the covers, watching as her eyelids began to slip shut. Just to be sure, at least that’s what he told himself, he laid his palm over her forehead, checking for warmth.

           Her eyes opened slightly, and he said, “Make sure you change the wrap when you wake up in the morning. Don’t wanna get an infection on the way to Solitude.”

           She nodded, letting out a yawn and sunk into her pillow. “Yeah, yeah, I will.”

           “Lass,” he warned, and she huffed, a smile spreading on her lips.

           “I will, promise.”

           Brynjolf gave her a look and pulled his hand away. “I’ll take my leave of you.” As he neared the doors to her patio, she called for him.

           “Brynjolf?” he paused and glanced over his shoulder, heart fluttering in his chest as she whispered, “Thank you…for saving me like this.”

           He gave her a smile. “Of course, lass. I’ll be here whenever you need me to be.” He pulled the door open, smile growing larger when he heard her sleepily murmur,

           “Hope it stays that way.”

[last-operator-standing]

Toll Of The Bell

Chapter 3 - Sonder

> Read on Ao3

> Chapter 1 (tumblr)

> Chapter 2 (tumblr)

> Chapter 4 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn’t be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Warning apply this chapter

Words: 1.8k (7.3k total)

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long asjdfjf I'm awful at keeping any sort of regular schedule- but i'm going to be trying much harder to keep the chapters flowing :') I'd love to hear any thoughts, and thank you all for the support <3 (p.s. Adler will be here v soon- Promise uwu)

"Please stop staring at me."

Bell has no intention of doing so. He's been staring down Lazar from the moment the man stumbled into the kitchen to join him at the table. The sunlight is harsh despite the closed curtains and the coffee fails to stimulate either agent's mind. This certainly isn't Lazar's ideal morning. The silence stretches on, but the uncomfortable feeling of Bell's eyes on him has him sighing loudly.

"Damn, Bell, alright." Lazar gives in. The chair scrapes loudly against the tile floor as he pushes back to stand, disappearing for a moment and returning with a bag. It piques Bell's curiosity; he was too tired to notice it last night.

A folder slaps loudly against the table and slides a few centimeters towards Bell. The Russian, unable to contain himself, surges forward to snatch it. "You're right about your buddy. Definitely a smuggler of sorts."

Bell flips the folder open and begins rooting through the contents. A picture of Kapano Vang is clipped on the inside. The first page has basic information. Name, call sign, date and place of birth. Bell's more interested in the finer details: A few suspected routes, potential cartel members, a list of what they believe is being smuggled. There's a few recurring words that catch his eye. Golden Triangle Cartel is scribbled at the bottom and underlined twice. Beside it, drawn in bold red ink and circled multiple times, Bell reads PERSEUS?

"What did you see yesterday, in those memories of yours?"

Bell gives a small shake of his head. "It was a bar, I think. He was there." He taps the portrait with a finger. "And someone else who knew us but.. I couldn't remember his face," The Russian gives a disappointed click of his tongue. "Or his name."

Lazar tries to offer a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't sweat it. It'll come back to you."

Bell wishes he could share in Lazar's positivity. He really does. But he can't be sure what brought the memories to him in the first place, or why they were so fragmented. After spending much of the night agonizing over any additional detail he might remember about Perseus or Kapano Vang or anyone else he had seen at that bar and coming up short, Bell's hope started to slip. In the end he could only point fingers at Adler and his MK-Ultra project. "So what's next?"

Lazar doesn't answer right away. He looks thoughtful. Even with their revelation on Kapano Vang and his cartel, they are nowhere closer to finding Perseus than they were before. They are back to square one.

"Well, I could try cross-referencing with MI6 again-" he means Park, Bell thinks with a snort "-and see if they have anything new."

Lazar's looking at him intently and Bell realizes he's waiting for a response. "Oh, uh. Yeah." Bell shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Whatever you say."

A week later, the two man team have no progress to show for their efforts. In that time, Bell's gone over the files at least a dozen and a half times and nothing's changed, nor have any new memories resurfaced. Lazar's cross-referencing has yet to unearth anything new either, telling Bell MI6 is just in the dark as they are.

"This isn't working, Laz." Bell slams the paper back against the kitchen table. His irritation is reflected in the other man's face but Lazar does a better job at hiding it. "We just have to keep looking," Lazar sighs. "We have the answer here somewhere."

Bell clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I've been over these files again and again. There's nothing here. We're not going to find Perseus on some piece of paper-" An idea strikes Bell. Something he never considered before now.

"Bell?" Lazar frowns. "You alright?"

"What if we look for that bar?" Excitement shines in Bell's eyes. Lazar's startled by his suggestion.

"I don't know-"

"C'mon, Laz, think about it. There was more than one Perseus agent there, in my memory." A plan was beginning to hatch in Bell's mind. From the way he's looking at him, Lazar doesn't like where he's going with it. "If we find that bar, maybe we can find one of those agents. Maybe even match some of these faces." He looks down at the file of unconfirmed but suspected Perseus soldiers.

"I don't know about this," Lazar repeats slowly, uncertainly. "If someone recognizes us it could cause some trouble. Especially if they recognize you. You helped stop Perseus the first time. No doubt his people are painfully aware of that."

Bell doesn't want to hear it, though. "It's just a risk we'll have to take," he argues. "I'm a spy, Laz. I know how to keep my head down."

After a bit of back and forth it's settled. First, they'll compile a list of bars in areas known or suspected to be frequented by Perseus. Then, while in constant contact, as Lazar insists, Bell will make his way through each alone and hope nobody recognizes him while he searches for the bar from his memory.

It takes two days to assemble a full list and another day and a half to narrow it down and map a route.

"I'm still not happy about this," Lazar grunts as he drops a duffel bag onto the table. Bell eagerly snatches it and begins shuffling inside. "You worry too much, old man."

The first thing Bell pulls from the bag is a change of clothes. They both agreed he needs something casual. And clean. It would make blending in with the crowd much easier. Too excited about the upcoming mission has Bell stripping where he stands. No time for modesty.

"C'mon, Bell, in the kitchen?" Lazar turns with a light pink tinting his face. Bell grins wide but doesn’t reply. The new outfit fits comfortably. He returns to the bag and roots around for his next prize. There’s a knife with a sheath and a small handgun waiting at the bottom. The knife is removed first. Bell carefully slides it free of its sheath. The blade is unusually slim and dark in color, and sports a dangerously sharp tip with partial serration of both sides near the hilt. Bell’s entirely absorbed in admiring the blade, so much so that he misses Lazar’s amused look until he speaks up.

“I thought you’d like that one.”

Bell returns the smile. “Oh, hell yeah. It reminds me of the one I had in-”

“Hey, Sims! You know reading that shit’s gonna make you go blind.”

“Yep! That’s why I want it alll up here.” Sims shot Adler a lazy grin. The commander slapped the book back against Sims’ chest.

“Bell, you’re with Sims. You usually bring out the best in each other.”

“RPGS! BRACE! BRACE!”

Bell watched in horror as a rocket collided with the chopper beside theirs. It careened dangerously before smashing into theirs, sending their own bird into a death spiral.

Everything was in chaos.

“Grab my hand! I gotcha! I got-!”

“We’ve lost power-!”

“We’re going down-!”

“BRACE!”

Bell blinks hard and his smile falls. There’s a knowing look on Lazar’s face and neither agent speaks a word about it. “C’mon,” Lazar gives a pat to Bell’s shoulder. “Showtime.”

The pair ride in silence. Lazar’s behind the wheel, giving Bell some time to think. He tries to keep the mission center focus, but the memories of Vietnam are overwhelming, fresh in his mind as if they just happened. And they’re not even real. I was never in Vietnam.

The car rolls to a stop and breaks Bell from his thoughts. “Alright, remember, coms on at all times.” Bell rolls his eyes and pops the door, deftly sliding from his seat. “I mean it, Bell!” But he slams the door without reply, turning towards the street. The small earpiece is already safely pressed into his ear and hidden behind his hair.

The checkered brick sidewalks stretch wide on either side of the street. There’s a decent amount of people strolling to and fro, some carrying briefcases and dressed in neatly pressed suits, others in casual attire with seemingly no important place to be. Lazar pulls off, leaving Bell to head for the first destination on his list.

The first thing Bell notices as he pushes into the first bar is the pungent mingling of smoke, alcohol, and sweat in the air. The floor beneath his boots is a glossy hardwood and matches the light oaken walls. The occupants chatter noisily, and although the sound is familiar, the atmosphere is not. This is not the right place. Keeping his appearance as casual as possible, Bell slips through the crowd and retreats out the back door. He glances around to confirm he’s alone before mumbling his findings to Lazar.

One down, seven more to go.

The second bar Bell stumbles into is smaller. There are less individuals milling around and the golden walls are all wrong from the dark cedar panels from his memory. The third bar is even less promising, while the fourth and fifth are so far from Bell’s memory that he’s positive he’s working backwards now.

Bell rejoins the thinning herd on the streets with a dejected sigh. This wasn’t working out. There’s two more bars to check and already it was getting dark. He’d hope for something; A clue, a new memory, a familiar face. Lazar keeps up with words of encouragement but Bell doesn’t have the capacity to share the optimism.

The sixth bar Bell checks holds a notable hushed atmosphere. Right away he’s stricken by the dark atmosphere. It felt.. Tense. Insidious. It doesn’t feel right, but for an entirely different reason. While most of the denizens ignore Bell, a few side-eye him dangerously. He steps to the counter and orders a drink, primarily to alleviate any suspicions from both inside and out.

Bell can’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into his back. It’s somehow different from when he first walked in and was certainly making him more uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat and tries his best to nonchalantly turn and find who the hell was staring at him so hard, but when he looks, he finds nothing out of the ordinary.

The feeling of unease doesn’t leave. He grows antsy and finally after paying with money given to him by Lazar, Bell downs the last of his drink and turns back into the streets. This is certainly not going the way Bell had hoped. The seventh bar is quite the walk from the sixth, allowing him some time to breathe and collect his thoughts.

The feeling of unease melts from Bell’s shoulders the longer he walks. Lazar’s quiet so he turns his attention outward and listens curiously to the broken chatter of the dwindling civilians.

“-think he talks about anything else?”

“Well, it’s not like-”

“Timur?”

“That’s not.. Point.. Why else-”

“Timur!”

“I just think you should consider-”

A hand lands heavily on Bell’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He turns in surprise.

“Timur!” A man stands before Bell with a lazy smirk and a gleam to his eyes- as if he recognizes him. His dark hair is cropped close to his head and a pair of lightly tinted shades adorns his face. The accent is certainly not Russian, and it throws Bell off guard. “Hey! Remember me?”

[bunkerbucky]

Got What He Wanted *Ransom Drysdale x Reader*

Summary: You’ve married young because you were in need of financial support. Six years later, you’re working under Harlan Thrombey as his research assistant. Jobs pays extremely well, so your marriage is stale. In fact, you both agree to allow the other to delve in new sexual partners. In walks his grandson, Ransom, who you have no qualms with... but he just hates what he can’t have and your husband has one rule: No sleeping with that sleaze Ransom. 

Pairings: Hugh Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit [+18]

Warnings: Straight up filthy smut below. Plot, too. Porn WITH plot. Cuckolding, to a sever degree. I’m gonna say dub-con-ish, mostly because you don’t give permission to be filmed- but also Ransom doesn’t ask for permission... so technically not wrong??? but technically you don’t want to be filmed whilst getting fucked! Mentions of Ransom being bisexual, it’s an offhand comment. 

Word Count: Too fucking long, hope you enjoy lmao

Notes: Please, be over 18 to enjoy my works. Viewer discretion is advised. You consume the content you want, so don’t be mad at me when you read something that I blatantly warned you about. 

My first post. Please, leave feedback and maybe send some requests for me. Requests are open, SMUT only themed. - Lilith

“So, he just let’s you fuck other guys?” You roll your eyes because it’s the same conversation everyday, almost. 

“Within reason,” you look up from your desk and quirk an eyebrow at the man sitting in front of you. “It’s mutually beneficial for us both, plus sometimes he watches.” 

Now that captures his attention tenfold. Ransom Drysdale; the handsome, spoilt and egotistical, maniac that is your bosses grandson. People love to hate him because he just makes it so good and easy to. 

Except you. Sure, he says stuff without consequence and he’s just a tad on the asshole side, but you find his callousness kinda humouring. Since day one of you working for Harlan you’ve simply chuckled at his comments. 

That intrigued the man before you. 

“How?” You frowned at his question, “How is he able to just watch as another man fucks you? I find that crazy and this is me, I have no limits when it comes to fucking.” That is true. 

You’ve listened to the countless sex-capedes of Ransom Drysdale, he’s done things to men and women that... you didn’t think could be pleasurable.  

You shrug slightly, “I don’t know. He came in when a guy was mid fucking and, I guess, he just likes the humiliation.” His eyebrows furrow together, forehead creasing into a frown, “He doesn’t watch every time, but it’s just something that sometimes- if I find the right guy- he’s willing to sit in the corner and just... watch as another guy does he what he can’t do.” 

Ransom just nods once in silence, a frown still present on his face. You look back to your laptop, typing furiously on the keyboard as you sort through Harlan’s notes. 

Your search history would give the police a run for their money. Researching poisons and deaths for an author has made you far more knowledgeable on how to get away with a murder than you’d ever admit. 

“I couldn’t do it,” you glance up and Ransom has his elbow propped on the arm rest, resting his head in his hand as he looks at you. “I could never watch someone else fuck you.” 

You choked a laugh, “Good thing no one is asking you to.” 

He’s silent again and that makes you quickly glance back. There’s amusement in his eyes, never a good sign when it comes to Hugh. You lick your lips and look instantly back at your screen, fingers poised and ready to type but you can’t move. 

“But I wouldn’t mind showing your husband how it’s done,” it’s an offhand remark and you exhale through your nostrils, narrowing your eyes at him and he’s got that boyish smirk on. “I’m not one to shy away from voyerism- cause I wouldn’t want him in the room, no way. That’s too weird, but he can peak in like the freak he is.” 

To say you hadn’t thought about Ransom like that would be a bold ass lie. You have. Countless times actually. He’s handsome and muscular. His face is the definition of “a face I’d kill to sit on”, there’s no doubt about it. 

The urge to fuck him only grows with every sexual adventure he tells you about. What you’d give to be on the receiving end of him. 

But you can’t. It’s actually a rule. When this whole thing started you were a couple months into this job, Harlan had a party and invited you alone- naturally, you brought your husband. He hates this family. Specifically he hates Ransom. Because Ransom doesn’t hide the flirty and racy comments he makes, no he does not. 

Even with your husband beside you, he made comments that would make even the most promiscuous girl embarrassed.  

“Hate to break it to you,” you begin with a smile, “you’re not allowed.” 

Ransom recoils in shock, “Excuse me?” 

“I’m not allowed to fuck you, it’s the one rule my husband set when this all started.” 

The absolute horror written on his face is priceless. For a second his bottom lip juts out into a pout, reminding you of a sulking child on Christmas. But you feel his pain, when being told that the one person you only ever really wanted to fuck was off limits? You almost called off the whole open marriage. 

You didn’t have anyone in mind that your husband wasn’t allowed to fuck, so he’s out in the world fucking any young thing he wants- younger than you, you’re 25 and married him when you were freshly 18. 

“That’s bullshit,” he mutters and you shrug, “Why?”

“He doesn’t like you,” you cross your arms and lean them on your desk, “he thinks you’re an asshole and doesn’t want you fucking his wife,” he scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes. 

You smile and chuckle softly, “Don’t act so upset, Hugh, you can get anyone you want.” 

He just hums and leans back in the chair he’s in. You exhale softly, knowing he’s going to pout and be an asshole for the rest of the day. You shouldn’t have told him that, should have ended the conversation from the moment it started. 

***

Harsh knocking rapidly beat against your front door. You quickly tied a robe around yourself and walked down the stairs, the knocking never ceasing. 

You open the door slightly and frown at the tall figure before you, opening the door wider as you sigh, “Ransom?” He has his hands in his jean pockets, “what the fuck are you doing here? It’s 7′o’clock in the morning!” 

“I didn’t ask,” he rolls his eyes and walks into your house. “Nice place,” he comments as he looks around, already pulling off his coat and scarf. 

You shut the door and turn back to him, he’s leaning against the back of your sofa with his arms crossed and watching you. There’s something about him that you can’t put your finger on, but you know trouble is round the corner. 

You raise a questioning eyebrow, “What’s so important that couldn’t possibly wait till I was at work?” 

“I’m going to fuck you,” it’s a statement, he says it like it’s fact. 

Maybe it is. You huff a laugh and nod, “Sure,” is your sarcastic response and you wait for his real answer. It never comes. 

“I’m not going to let some cuckolding husband tell me I can’t fuck his wife,” his voice has an edge of bitterness and venom laces his words, as if he was truly hurt by being told ‘no. you can’t fuck my wife.’

You suck in a shaky breath when pushes off the sofa and walks towards you, it’s calculated and slow steps, giving you time to tell him to fuck off: As if you ever would tell him that. 

“What’d you say?” Now he’s phrasing it like a question, he’s standing so close to you that it’s hard to form a cohesive answer because his smell just envelops you; cedar-wood, smoky and a hint of mint, it’s intoxicating to your senses. “C’mon we haven’t got all fuckin’ day,” he growls lowly. 

You bite your bottom lip are you really about to fuck Ransom, especially after your husband told you not to. The one rule that was set in place. You nod once, “yes,” it’s a hushed whisper. 

Ransom grabs you by the hips and pulls you towards him, slanting his mouth over yours in a searing and bruising kiss. His hands grasp the soft fabric of your robe as yours wrap around his neck. He pulls and the robe comes open, his callused hands smoothing over your soft skin. 

He deepens the kiss, shoving his tongue into your mouth and gaining all of the dominance- that you happily give over to him. Ransom’s hands slide from your hips to your ass giving a hard squeeze that has you pulling away to move softly, he swats your butt an order to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You don’t make it easy to carry you to the bedroom, sucking and biting at his neck harshly. A growl rumbles from deep within his chest and before you know he’s tossing you onto the bed, trying to rip the robe from off your shoulders. He stares down at you like a hunter watching his prey, it has you keening for his attention and touch. 

Ransom doesn’t miss the way your thighs rub together trying alleviate the ache, you’re a mess and nothing has happened except rough groping and making out- it makes him smirk, how easily he is able to make you come undone. He doesn’t need to do anything just stare at you like he’s going to eat you; that’s definitely on the agenda. 

He wastes no time in ripping your panties off, using what little strength to tear the fabric from your body and pushing your thighs apart widely. He all but groans at the mess you’ve made to yourself, running his knuckles through the slick and smirking at the shudder that wrecks your body. He leans forward and licks a broad strip up your pussy, smirking when you moan loudly, hands automatically flying to his head. 

Whilst your head is thrown back as he assaults your pussy with his tongue and lips, his other hand fishies around his back jean pocket. His iPhone grasped in his hand, he swipes right on the lockscreen for the camera and clicks to rotate camera to face himself. A perfect shot of his heads between your thighs. 

He drops the phone onto the bed and sets to work on eating you out, an arm slung over your stomach to hold you down whilst his other works his fingers into your dripping entrance. Your hands clutch his hair tightly, babbled moans of ‘fuck’ and ‘Ransom’ leaving your lips. He pulls his mouth away as he enters a third finger into your entrance, watching as you suck his fingers inside yourself and groaning at the sound your pussy makes when he starts a rough pace. Your slick is practically dribbling down his wrist, his thumb swipes over your clit quickly. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me,” he chuckles lowly at your whines, “you gonna cum?” You nod and throw your head back when his fingers find that soft-spongy spot within you, “yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ cum on my fingers, bet your husband couldn’t fuck your pussy like this with his own cock, isn’t that right?” 

Unbeknownst to you, Ransom had clicked record and was videoing with the camera faced down on the mattress. 

You came suddenly and quickly, a long and strained moan leaving you. Your thighs shaking with the aftershocks as Ransom kept finger fucking you through the orgasm. He pulls his fingers free and licks your slick off of each finger. Ransom looks down at you, arm thrown over your eyes as you try and capture some oxygen to your lungs. He slaps your still quivering pussy to get your attention, a surprised yelp leaving you as you look at him. 

“Well,” he huffs in annoyance and you frown, “it ain’t gonna suck itself.” He gestures to the bulge in his pants. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs apart as you stumble off of the bed. Bra straps fallen off your shoulders, your eyes are glazed over with lust and determination to make him feel good.  You unbuckle his belt and pull his zipper down fast, he stands up to toe off his shoes and socks, watching as you pull down his jeans and boxers. 

“Oh, god,” you mumble at the sheer size of him, long and thick. 

You wrap a hand around the base, Ransom pulls of his jumper and shirt and throws them to the floor. A hiss leaves his lips when he feels you kitten lick the head a few times, a gentle suckling motion next- you’re teasing him. 

“No, no,” he huffs and places a hand on the back of your head, “no teasing, slut.” With that he pushes your head down, groaning as you swallow down his length and slightly choke when he presses to the back of your throat. “That’s it, gag on it.” 

You begin to bob your head up and down his length, taking him as far back as you can. Your saliva dribbling down his hard cock allowing you to pump the rest of him, the filthy sounds you’re making around his cock, plus his loud groans fills the room. The hand on the back of your head starts to push you a little further down, making you take more than you can handle. 

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Ransom grunts, “you’ve been gagging for this, so put in a little more effort.” 

It seems your efforts aren’t enough, Ransom stands up and pulls you off of his cock and you breathe heavily. A string of saliva and pre-cum connecting your lips to his dick. He grabs ahold of your face, squishing your cheeks tightly. “I’m gonna fuck your throat and I won’t stop,” He winks for good measure before standing up straight, “open up.” 

You do as you’re told and you feel both of his hands on the back of your head, guiding you down his length till you can’t take no more yourself. But his hands push your head down, you breathe hard through your nose and try not to choke or gag around him. Finally, you’re nestled at the root of his cock. Mouth open widen and stuffed full of him. 

His hips pull back half-way and then slam back, the tip of his dick sliding down your throat and passed the point of which you’re comfortable with. He does this a few more times, hard and deep thrusts into your mouth. Tears start streaming down your face, saliva dripping out of the corners of your mouth; you’re a mess. 

Ransom holds the phone steady in one hand, a new video being recorded. Your mouth wrapped tightly around him and him fucking your throat. Your hands holding onto his thighs for support, the gagging and choking sounds you make are just beautiful. “That’s it, good girl. I knew you could handle it.” He stops recording and throws the phone back on the bed behind him, gripping your hair tightly and slamming into your mouth in tight thrusts. 

He pulls you off suddenly and watches as you cough, chest heaving and wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands, 

“Hands and knees. Now.” 

You stand on shaky legs and climb onto the bed, you face away from Ransom, your arms shaking with excitement and lust. You feel hot and sweaty, you’re gonna have to take a shower for work- if you can even make it to work. You feel Ransom’s hands on your ass, stroking the flesh before delivering a harsh smack that has you falling on your elbows.

A dark chuckle emits from him, you feel him spread your cheeks and then the head of his cock rubs against your entrance. You moan shamelessly as he pokes the tip in, a smirk on his face when you try and push back against him. You whine and look over your shoulder to him, he gives you a wink and a wicked smile before he presses in further. 

You drop your head as he continues to press into you, resting your forehead on your forearms as he bottoms out. His hips pressed snugly against your ass for a moment, he allows you to adjust for a second before he starts dragging his cock out. 

Then he sets a brutal pace. Fucking into you abandon. His deep and hard thrusts pushes you up the bed, you find purchase by wrapping your hands into the comforter and holding on for dear life. The noises that leave your mouth aren’t human, they’re moans and shrieks of what is possibly his name. 

Ransom holds the phone once again, other hand grabbing your hip tightly and sure to leave a bruise. The camera is aimed at where you’re joined, your pussy taking his cock so well and effortlessly. The sounds of skin hitting skin, his breathy groans into the cameras recording. He stops the recording and throws the phone to the side. 

Leaning his body over yours, his front pressed to your back as he continues to fuck into you. His mouth nibbling at your ear, “you gonna cum?” You nod frantically and a sob escapes you. “You can cum.” 

From hearing that and a deeply hard thrust you come, your whole body trembling and buzzing with the orgasm. Your eyes shut tightly and you moan his name so loudly. You’re thoroughly spent but Ransom continues to deeply fuck you into the mattress. His hand comes around to your front and wraps around your neck loosely, he’s pulling you up. Back pressed against his chest, hand wrapped tightly around your throat and cutting off air. 

His other hand trails down your body and starts to rub your clit harshly, you hiss from the overstimulation he’s creating to your body, Your body is being wound tighter and tighter, you’re gonna snap in two if he doesn’t stop this assault. 

“You’ve got another in you,” He rasps into your ear, “I know you do. So fuckin’ cum, go on. I can feel it,” he groans and kisses your tear stained cheek. 

Your knees buckle and you fall a little forward, Ransom lets go of your throat and you flop face first into the mattress with your ass in the air. Your body feels on fire with the orgasm taking over your body, chest heaving and stars clogging your sight. Ransom continues to fuck you, his thrusts getting sloppier as he feels you clench around him. 

He cums with a shout and smacks your asscheek twice. He pulls out of your aching pussy and looks, he huffs a laugh as his cum spills out a little and takes another photo. His finger pushes what spilled out and back into you, you hiss from the intrusion and sigh when he pulls his middle finger out completely. He lays down beside you, hardly a wreck like you. You’re on your stomach and panting for air. 

Ransom grabs your phone on the nightstand next to him, unlocking it with the code that just your birth year and scrolling in your contacts. He enters your husband number into the box and begins to send the photos and videos, not an ounce of guilt rattling through him. 

He’s got what he wanted. 

Ransom stands up and starts pulling on his clothes, back facing you as he redresses himself and smoothes out his hair. He gives you a glance as you roll over and smile at him, your fucked out expression has him chuckling. 

“Where you going?” 

“I’m not much of a cuddler,” he informs you and you pout, “you gotta get ready for work.” He reminds you as your phone starts to ring, it’s your husband and you contemplate letting it ring if it means you can convince Ransom to stay a little while. 

“How about breakfast then?” You sit up and smile. 

Ransom almost feels bad for you. Your phone starts to ring again and he wonders why he has this selfish need to ruin everyone’s lives around him, including your own. 

But then he remembers there’s million other you’s in the world and he feels less bad. 

“You should answer that,” He opens your bedroom door, “could be important.” he careless throws over his shoulder as he walks down your stairs; deleting all the photos and videos in the process. 

He hears you answer and it’s silent as he pulls on his coat and scarf. It’s not till he reaches your front door that he hears the all too familiar, “Ransom, why?” A smirk tilts his lips and he slams the door closed. Satisfied. 

Comment, heart & reblog? I really appreciate feedback and love reading comments. Let me know what you think. Also my inbox is open for requests; Bucky, Ransom & Steve are who I write for :) - Lilith xo

[ruthoakenshield]

Very Good Friends (Chapter 16)

Catch up here: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8]  [Chapter 9]  [Chapter 10]  [Chapter 11]  [Chapter 12]  [Chapter 13]  [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15]

Reader x Henry Cavill, Reader x co-star named Dan

Warning: This tale is for 18+ readers ONLY!!! Mentions of flashbacks: (rape, anal sex, non-con sex, abuse), severe bruising and injury, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression,   humiliation, and some of the good kind of fluff to make us feel better. Smut (the happy good kind) comes soon!!!

If  ANY of the warnings upset you or make you uncomfortable, DO NOT read  below  the cut! go find something else to read in this case and if you want to be removed from the taglist for this story, let me know. I won’t be upset, I promise!

If you are okay with reading those things then enjoy the tale below the cut.

Feedback  and reblogs are appreciated. I do not own Henry nor do I have any   personal knowledge of him besides what is common knowledge amongst the   Cavillary. Any mistakes and typos are mine, story is not beta-tested.   GIF I got from the tumbler search thingy.

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Two weeks later you, Henry, and several co-stars, as well as crew members find yourselves in the courtroom facing down Dan, your co-star. He is glaring daggers at the two of you as you testify to his behaviour, words and deeds as well as how it affected you and threatened the film. The two of you are each dismissed after your time on the stand. After two days of hearings all day long, you and Henry and your co-stars and crew members wait to hear the results out in the hallway. Henry sees how upset you are after having to answer some of the questions and being verbally attacked by the defense attorney who kept trying to pin this all on you

You tremble in Henry’s arms, your mind racing with all the ‘what if’ scenarios. Henry recognizes the start of you having an anxiety attack starting, and he uses the distraction techniques your counselor taught the two of you to bring you out of it. He helps you focus with deep breathing and holds you close. “Just listen to my heartbeat, Kitten. Focus on that and my breathing.” he tells you. “Find things around us to focus on for each of your senses”. He reminds you.

You close your eyes and focus on him. His musky scent combined with his sandalwood and cedar wood cologne, his warmth and strong body holding you secure. His calming and steady heartbeat beating in your ear as you lean against his broad chest, and his steady breathing, you look at his huge arms holding you close and you taste the peppermint he gives you to suck on. They all lulled you into a relaxing trance while you both waited to hear the results.

Henry rested his chin on your head, focused on keeping his breaths steady, the scent of lavender and your peace and calming oil keeping his nerves at bay. He focused on your body and how it felt in his arms and against his chest. Your arms wrapped around his waist, hidden by his suit jacket from everyone. He counted your breaths for something to do to keep his focus on you and not the ‘what if’ scenarios his brain kept trying to come up with.

Finally, the court room doors were opened, and people began to leave. The studio’s attorneys approached you both and told you that he was convicted on all accounts and will be in jail for the next 30 years and will have to register as a sex offender now. they say, “His acting career is over.” They inform you that you will be getting a hefty amount for restitutions for all the pain and suffering and slander you suffered by his hand and decisions and you will receive a letter from them when it hits your bank account.

Your jaws drop and you look at each other. Henry thanks the attorneys and they shake both your hand and Henry’s. You look back up at Henry and he is beaming. “I’m proud of you, Kitten. You stopped him from hurting any other women.” he says and kisses your forehead. “And Hollywood now knows they won’t be able to mess with you like he did!” you blush and nod. He gives you a hug and offers you his arm. The Cast and crew who also testified cheered at the news and congratulated you and give you hugs and handshakes as well. The two of you head out into the sunshine and walk to Henry’s BMW.

Suddenly a reporter spots the two of you and asks for an interview. Henry and you decline and tell her you are not able to discuss the case or it’s results. Then the two of you climb into the car and Henry pulls out of the parking lot.

He takes you to his favourite little restaurant that is off the main drag and the two of you enjoy a nice dinner with your agents and publicists. The six of you discuss the case and it’s results and the reporter who approached you both. “You handled it nicely.” Henry’s publicist tells him. “Do the same thing if anyone else approaches or asks about it.” she tells you both.

Once everyone is done eating, Henry picks up the tab and you all head home. You and Henry crash into your beds and quickly fall asleep knowing you both have to be up ridiculously early for filming. It’s going to be 16 hour days for the next few weeks and you both are looking forward to it, yet are dreading it too.

You arrive and the whole set is abuzz with the news of the verdict. Everyone is congratulating you and telling you how proud they are of you for standing up to him. Finally the director gets everyone settled down and you are able to film your scenes. Richard is there today with you and Henry filming some of the last scenes with him. He gives you a gentle hug and also congratulates you and tells you he is proud of you and how you’ve rebounded from this. “I hope you continue to get wonderful parts in film, Sweetheart. You’re an amazing actress!” he tells you, making you blush.

The remaining month and a half passes quickly and principal filming wraps ahead of schedule leaving time for re-shoots if they are needed. You both get called back for re-shooting a couple scenes with Richard. Then you have to go into the recording studios after that to do the voice overs for the scenes that they recorded when your voice was still hoarse or non-existent after the attack. Once that is finished, you all are whisked off to begin press junkets, interviews and tv spots all over the globe, glad to be able to start them earlier than expected.

**********

The night before the rat race of Press Junkets begins, you and Henry are in adjoining rooms at a lovely hotel in Los Angeles. You are cuddled on the bench on the balcony and he has made you Peppermint tea to drink and he sips on coffee.

You are watching the sunset and talking quietly enjoying the cool night air. Henry looks at his watch and sighs. “Time for bed, Kitten. We’ve got to be up early in the morning.” he tells you and lifts you off his lap. He easily carries you into the suite and sets you down. “Night Bear.” you tell him and give him a hug. Henry grins and pecks your nose with a goodnight kiss. “Night Kitten.” he tells you and watches you head into your room through the adjoining door.

The two of you agreed to keep the doors open in case your nightmare flares up, which it does occasionally. Henry can always tell when it does because you crawl into bed with him, wrapped in your burrito of the comforter or heavy blanket and you plaster yourself to his side or back.

You crawl into bed and sigh. You’re nervous to start the press junket and you can’t sleep. You toss and turn for over an hour. Finally, you get up and grab the comforter. You wrap it around yourself and creep into Henry’s room. He is sprawled across his bed spread eagle. The room is warm still even with the French doors open letting the evening’s cool breeze in. He refused to use the AC, knowing how you hate the sound of them. You hesitate to crawl up against him knowing he hates being hot when he tries to sleep. You sigh quietly and turn to go back to your room when you hear him sit up and say quietly, “Can’t sleep either, Kitten?”

Turning, you see him propped up on his elbows looking at you. “How can you stand being cocooned in that comforter?” he asks quietly as you approach the bed. He sees sweat rolling off your face and neck. He scoots to the end of the bed and unwraps it from your body. You’re covered in sweat and his fingers gently graze your arms. He is trying hard not to be turned on by your heady scent. “Come with me.” he says quietly and takes your hand.

Leaving the lights off, Henry turns the water in the Jacuzzi on filling the tub with cool water. He strips down and climbs in, then holds out his hand. You hesitate, but want to cool off so you strip down to your panties and bra and climb in.

Henry watches you with appreciative eyes. He pulls you over to him and puts you on his lap as the two of you relax in the cool water. You try to ignore his massive hard on pressing into your back and you focus on his breathing and the feeling of his arms around you. The two of you end up falling asleep in the Jacuzzi’s cool water.

Somehow during the night, you end up turned around and facing him, straddling his hips, his morning wood is pressing into your belly and your head rests on his chest. His arms rest on your thigh and his hands on your ass.

You are surprised you were asleep with him like this and try not to move. You feel him stir and his hands grip your ass momentarily and he moans. Once his brain catches up with his body, he quickly moves them to your back and he quietly asks you if you’re awake. “Mmmm, just woke up.” you murmur. He glances at the clock and yawns. “We need to get going, Kitten. We have to be at the TV studio in an hour.” he tells you.

You sit up and yawn, then stretch, forgetting that you’re nearly naked and sitting on his equally naked lap. His hands grip you to steady you and your eyes open in surprise. “Oh, OH!!! I’m sorry, Bear, I forgot …” you start to apologize when you see the surprised look on his face. You look down and realize your bra and panties have become see through now that they are wet. He lifts a hand to your lips and stops you from finishing. “Don’t apologize, Kitten. I rather like the view.” he says with a smirk. “Soon I will be able to enjoy it every morning in my bed, if you let me.” he purrs making you blush beet red.

Grinning, you move to stand and climb out of the Jacuzzi tub. You grab a towel and dry off, then head to your room. Henry enjoys watching your nearly naked ass sway from side to side as you walk, your hair just barely touching your waistline. He sighs and looks down at his morning wood. Groaning, he takes care of it as he drains the Jacuzzi and then climbs into the shower to freshen up. You do the same in your room. Then you both get dressed, grab your things and head down to meet Richard at the SUV that the studio sent to pick the three of you up.

You spend the next month hopping from one plane to another, one country to another, one hotel to another and one interview to another promoting the movie you were in with Richard and Henry. Sometimes the questions were easy to answer, and other times the interviewer just didn’t get that you couldn’t talk about some things in the movie and they would get upset, which in turn upset you. Henry and Rich both quickly learned your tells that you were getting upset and would quickly squash any unpleasantness.

Twice one particularly belligerent interviewer asked the two of you about the rape case and got upset when all three of you told him that the topic was off the table for discussion and no questions regarding it would be answered. Richard and Henry eventually told him to get out and that the interview was done, despite him still having 10 minutes left. Henry told him that since he couldn’t be respectful of what the three of you could and could not discuss, that the interview was done and if he didn’t get out that security would be called.

The man quickly got up and left, Henry apologized to you, and the film crew taping the interviews just stared in shock. Henry looked at Richard and Rich nodded, so Henry ushered you out into the hallway, seeing you were upset and helped you to calm down. “Why do some people have to be like that?” you say as he holds you and gently rubs your back.

“Because they never learn manners. All they want is to get their story and don’t care who they hurt. They’re no better than paparazzi.” Henry tells you. “Now, are you ready to go back in and hit repeat?” he teases. It was the running joke between the two of you and Rich. You placed bets each morning how many times you’d get asked the same questions. Some days you were closer, other days he or Richard were.

You giggled and nodded. The two of you entered the small room once more and resumed interviews. As the busy day ended the two of you walked out of the studio with Richard, and Henry chuckled, “Well you won today, Kitten. Where do you want to go eat at?” he asks.

You pull up the restaurants in the area and decide on one. The three of you walk arm in arm through the streets with you in the middle, stopping to sign autographs and let people take pictures with the three of you. Everyone seemed excited to see the movie. Finally, you all reached the restaurant and the three of you were seated. None of you could read the menus since they were in a foreign language, and you all laughed trying to figure out what they said. You each decided to just pick something from the pictures that looked good and hope it was something that tasted good.

You all giggled and laughed as you ate and enjoyed the meal. You ended up with something resembling a stuffed steak with a type of potato and local veggies. Henry ended up with a seafood platter including squid and calamari. Rich ended up with something resembling Shepherd’s pie. Henry offered you some of his platter, but you declined, knowing he just wanted your huge steak. You giggled as he eyed you enjoying it. You’d tease him and pretend to offer him a bite only to quickly put it in your mouth. He laughed and told you that you’d pay for that. To which you quipped, “Nope, I won the bet, so you’re payin’ big guy.” Which sent Richard into a laughing fit.

You all were stuffed silly by the time you left the restaurant. You ate your fill of the steak and let Henry finish it off and he ate most of his platter too. He didn’t seem a huge fan of the calamari and squid though.

The three of you walked through a nice park. You were in the middle and Rich was on your right arm, Henry was on your left arm. The three of you visiting, laughing and sharing stories of press junkets they’d done as you all headed back to your hotel. You all arrived, tired and with full bellies.

You wished Rich a good night, then went to your room and began to pack your stuff for the early red-eye flight out. Henry did the same, as did Richard. You and Henry again had adjoining suites so the door between the two was left open. Your suite had a Jacuzzi and Henry was a little jealous his didn’t. You invited him to come join you in it and you set your alarm for an hour before you both needed to be leaving in case you fell asleep in it again.

You and Henry cuddled in the Jacuzzi enjoying the jets circulating the water. Henry massaged your tired feet and you thought you had died and gone to heaven. He was grinning from ear to ear at the lovely moans he was drawing from your lips as he simply massaged the knots and pain from your aching feet. You returned the favor when he was done; and at first he didn’t want you to do it, but once you caught one of his big feet and began to rub with a slow, firm pressure, he melted like a stick of butter in your hands.

“Oh God Kitten! That feels amazing!” he murmurs as you face each other in the Jacuzzi. His foot propped up in your lap as you massaged it. His eyes were closed, and he had a goofy grin on his face. You let his foot slowly drop back into the warm water, and he lifted the other one for you to grab and work on. You noticed he was close to falling asleep. Once you finished his other foot, he was asleep.

“Henry,” you said as you gently shook his massive shoulder. “Henry, wake up. Let’s get you out of the tub and into bed.” you tell him. He groans and moves to stand, his eyes still closed. You chuckle and guide him out of the tub. You hand him a towel and he dries off, his eyes still closed. You giggle and ask, “Aren’t you gonna open your eyes?” he shakes his head and holds out his hand. You chuckle and guide him over to the bed and turn back the covers, you turn him around and sit him down in the bed. He scoots in and you cover him up. He is snoring before you get back to the tub to drain it.

Once it’s drained, you climb into bed next to Henry and curl up and try to get a few hours of sleep. He ends up curling his huge frame protectively around you as he spoons you and pulls you against him as he sleeps. You giggle and just let him cuddle. Just as you finally fell asleep, the alarm goes off, startling Henry, since it wasn’t his normal alarm. You giggled as you heard his going off in his room.

He groans, and gets up. He walks into the room and you admire his god-like physique as he saunters away from you completely naked. His member swung as he walked. Even flaccid, it was huge. You shook your head wondering how it would feel inside you someday if you could ever manage to tolerate having sex. Henry’s sleepy head peers back in through the doorway and he has a funny look on his face once he shut the alarm off.

You sit up and say, “Hen, what’s wrong?” he comes back into the room with his boxers now on, and sits on the bed for a moment, trying to wake up and figure out what was different. “You slept next to me in your bed. I was naked and you weren’t wrapped in your cocoon.” he comments, looking at you puzzled.

You shrug. Hen, we’ve got today left of interviews and then it’s just the red carpet for the movie release. I figured it was safe enough to not cocoon myself up. I felt comfortable and yeah. Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything inappropriate. Just cuddled and spooned me.” you tell him with a giggle, then look down at your lap.

He reaches over and takes your hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses each finger, letting his lips linger on each one, almost sucking them into his mouth. Then he slowly and sensuously kisses the top of your hands and your palms. He stands and leans over the bed to you and kisses your forehead, “Soon.” is all he says and heads back into his room to get ready.

You sit there, in a daze for a moment wondering what the hell was that. You shake your head and yawn, then get up and get ready. The three of you head to the airport and board the plane for the last leg of the trip… London… and their PR whirlwind of a day.

Henry and Rich are both excited to be ‘on home territory’ as they say, and Henry can’t wait to show you around after today’s press junket finishes. Both men are giggly, beaming and in very good moods for the day, setting you at ease once again.

More chapters to come…

Please reblog and share if you like this story so far! Please and thank you!!!

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[nalgenewhore]

Too Late To Turn Back Now - Nine

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

TW: Mentions of child abuse, PTSD

+*+*+*+*+*+*

She hadn’t had a nightmare in years. At least, not one that would wake her up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

Elide couldn’t stop the sobs that ripped from her raw throat, utterly terrified as she thrashed to get away from the hands that would hurt her. Her ankle felt like someone was holding a branding iron to it, pressing against her flesh with no reprieve.

Blindly, she reached out, searching for the warm body beside hers, why hadn’t he woken up, but all she felt were cool, if slightly rumpled sheets.

Lorcan had to leave, that badly, in the middle of the night? The whole day before – it had to have meant nothing because he couldn’t stand to sleep in the same bed as her. The thought had her choking, her pathetic cries dying in her throat before she sobbed anew, unable to stop anything, unable to stop the near screams that spilled from her lips, unable to stop feeling like she was drowning, unable to stop the crack of her heart.

Oh gods, she couldn’t breathe.

Nausea grew in her and before she could even think about making it to the bathroom or even the balcony, she sat up and threw up, bile stinging her ravaged throat. She gagged and emptied her stomach again, her eyes watering as she heaved on nothing.

It wasn’t a second longer that the bathroom door slammed open and Lorcan was there, staring for a moment at the scene before he ran to her side and effortlessly picked her up, cradling her against his chest. “Princess, oh my gods, baby girl, fucking hell,” he whispered, his heart thundering.

Elide screamed again, fighting against him. “El, Elide, it’s just me. It’s me.” He had thought she was being murdered. He’d been gone for a minute, just a minute, had left her sleeping peacefully on the bed they shared to use the bathroom.

“Lorcan? Where did you go?” she cried, letting him hold her against his chest, his cheek resting on her forehead. 

“I was just in the toilet,” he assured her, cradling the back of her head. “You’re alright, it was a dream, just a dream.”

“I-I th-threw up,” she cried, fighting for a breath of air, snot running from her nose, her eyes filled with unspilled tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize,” he shushed her. “Come on, baby, you gotta breathe, in and out.” He pulled air into his lungs through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, watching her imitate him. Lorcan could see in her eyes that she was panicking, desperate for oxygen and the fact that she was apologizing—

Fuck, he didn’t care about the vomit on the bed, didn’t care about anything except her. Elide sniffled once and cried again, shaking in his arms. With barely an effort, Lorcan walked back into the bathroom and filled the bathtub, putting her down on the cool tile.

Elide watched him as he glared at the collection of bath oils and essences and salts as if it had personally and egregiously offended him. “I like cedar,” she whispered, drawing her knees up beneath her chin. “And sandalwood.”

Lorcan was too concentrated to register that those were the scents of his cologne, the one he wore everyday. He nodded, perfunctorily, and dumped them in, then turning to her and taking her hands in his, letting her ground herself to him as he checked over her.

Small and frail, that’s what she looked like. Slowly, Lorcan got a face cloth and held it under the bath tap, wringing it out before carefully tipping her chin back and cleaning her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes brushing against her red cheeks, tears still slipping from her eyes.

When her face was cleaned, Lorcan got her cup of water, grinning teasingly as she smiled softly and took it with two hands, “Think you can handle some water, Lochan?”

She rolled her eyes and nodded, still sipping carefully though. “Can you get my toothbrush, it’s just… icky.”

Lorcan nodded, half-crouching as he kissed her forehead before getting her toothbrush for her.

He turned off the bath as she brushed her teeth, deeming it to be acceptable. “Bath’s ready, princess.” Elide nodded and stood, holding up her arms as indication for him to undress her.

He did and it was… a lot more natural than he thought it’d be. It was intimate, yes, but not in a sexual way, nothing heated in his movements as he pulled her top off and kneeled in front of her, tugging down her sweats.

Elide delicately stepped out, completely bare under the soft light of the bathroom. Without any hesitation, Lorcan scooped her up and set her down in the water. Before her hair could fall from the barely held-together bun it was in, Lorcan efficiently drew it back for her and clipped it up with the hairclip she’d left on the counter.

His heart was still beating way too fast and he crouched by the side of the bath, running his fingers over her arm. “E.”

She turned her face towards him but kept her eyes half-closed. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to change the sheets, but I’m not leaving, ok? I’m not leaving you.” He needed her to understand that he wouldn’t abandon her, not now, not ever.

That had her opening her eyes fully and looking at him, truly seeing him. “Ok.” It was such a tiny word, so small, but Lorcan knew what she meant. They seemed to just… understand each other. Even before the deportation hanging over their heads, they had a way of silently communicating with each other.

Satisfied, Lorcan stood and even then, left the door open as he stripped the bed and made quick work of putting on new sheets. He checked on her before going to the laundry room.

When he got back, Elide wasn’t asleep, she was too scared for that, but she was barely awake. Her cheeks were rosy pink, her body relaxed as she soaked. Silently, she stood up, grabbed a towel, and dried herself as he got her clothes to change into.

Hers were right there, he could’ve easily gotten them but instead, he grabbed his hoodie and his sweats, walking back in to find her standing on the bathmat. Her skin gleamed in the light and she gave him a small smile as he held up the clothes for her before dressing.

She had to roll down the waistband and roll up the ankles, but she left the hoodie alone, simply flipping the hood over her head. “Can we go outside? I need to…” she trailed off, fear as though he would deny her that simple necessity heavy in her eyes.

Without a second thought, Lorcan was agreeing and picking her up, not even letting her take one step on her own. Elide had no qualms about it and exhaled softly, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her arms wrapped around his neck and she locked her legs around his waist. I love you, she thought, still thinking about how she had said it, but in the coward’s way – in a language he didn’t speak. I love you so much.

He carried her down to the beach, after grabbing the heavy blankets, and set her down just as the grass turned into cool sand. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, hooking her pinky around his.

Lorcan grinned down at her, the tightness in his chest easing just a bit. He had thought that her falling into the arctic ocean had been the scariest thing he’d lived through, but seeing her so scared, completely detached as she sobbed and screamed, thrashing away from whatever visions she was having, straining away from him, made fear sink into his skin far worse than anything before.

She began to walk along the sand and he just stayed there, keeping an eye on her as she bent to collect something or dipped her toe in the cold water. Eventually, long after he’d sat down and wrapped a blanket around himself, Elide wandered back to him, a collection of finds cradled in her hands. She looked so proud of herself as she kneeled in front of him and spread them out on the other thick blanket, silently combing through them. “I just want one.”

He didn’t question why she only wanted one, didn’t question why they were all shades of black, didn’t question as she held up a piece of sea glass to his eyes and nodded once to herself, tossing everything else away. He didn’t ask her anything – he was just there. As steady and always as the waves that crashed gently against the shore.

Then, when Elide was curled up between his legs, her back against his chest, she finally spoke, burying her toes in the sand. “I haven’t… had a nightmare like that in a long time. I think it just built up.” Her breath caught and she pressed herself closer into his solid warmth, tugging his arms tighter around herself. “My uncle… he used to lock me in this root cellar. One of those ones that was built into the floor and I could barely fit into it. It was really dark and I couldn’t see anything and it was so cold. Even in the summer it was cold.”

She took a shuddering breath and it hit Lorcan so hard in the chest he floundered for air. Elide was not the tough, unfeeling, and heartless lawyer that he saw all the time. She was his age, she was young, and she was broken too. But, she seemed to trust him with her ravaged heart. Something had changed, something had changed for her to hold it out for him to safekeep.

He wouldn’t betray that. He loved her, with every shattered piece of his twisted heart, he loved her.

Knowing she didn’t want his words right now, and certainly not those ones, Lorcan wrapped her up further in his arms, hoping his eternal warmth would seep into her. “I just saw darkness,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the bright moon. “It was so cold.”

He wanted to thank her for sharing, for offering him that bloodied and broken piece of her, but Elide was drifting off. In her sleep, she reached for his hand and pulled it into her chest, pressing it against her heart.

Eventually, Lorcan scooped her up, blanket and all, as he stood and walked them back to their room, nodding once to his mother when he saw her in the kitchen, drinking a mug of tea. Odette just smiled knowingly and stood up, kissing his cheek and Elide’s as well. “Take care of this girl, my son. She is not as strong as she seems.”

“I will, mama.” I always will.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The bed was empty when he woke up and he frowned, searching across the mattress for Elide. Lorcan groaned into the pillow his arms were wrapped around and sat up, squinting his eyes at the sun that streamed through the windows.

Sighing to himself, he dressed, putting on his glasses, and sought her out, finding her down at the beach, a book in hand. He watched her in silence for a moment or two before walking up behind her and sitting down, pulling her back into his chest. “Hi, princess.”

Elide hummed, pressing into him, “Hi.”

“How are you,” he murmured, tucking his chin in the crook of her neck. It wasn’t an innocent query.

“I’m good. Promise,” she answered, putting her book down and turning in his arms, straddling his lap. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He had done it without question, without hesitation. He’d seen her at her worst, so deeply entrenched in her past that she could barely recognize him.

“Always.” He tilted his head back to look up at her, sliding his hands down to her ass. She rolled her eyes but let him keep his hands there, hers resting on the sides of his neck. 

“How are you?”

Lorcan smirked, “Never been better.”

Elide rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Slim fingers slid into his thick locks and he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her elderberry and cinnamon perfume and his cedar cologne mixing together on the hoodie of his that she wore. “I could stay like this forever,” Elide whispered softly, her lips on the crown of his head. She felt safe and secure - here in his arms, like nothing could touch her.

“Then why don’t you,” he said, leaning back and arching a brow.

She looked at him, really looked at him, something unreadable in her eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“There’s nothing I want more than that. Stay.”

His heart beat hard, frantic until she grinned and nodded, kissing his lips, “I’d like that.” She kissed him harder, grinding herself slowly into his lap. 

He opened his mouth to deepen the embrace when someone called their names. They both looked up to find Maeve beckoning them to her. Lorcan turned back to Elide, a deep frown gracing his face. “I hate her.”

“I know you do, baby,” she replied, pushing his glasses up after they slipped down his nose. “Let’s go see what she wants, ok?” He grumbled but did as she asked, tangling his fingers in hers as Elide picked up her book and they leisurely strolled back up the sandy beach after Elide had brushed off the sand on the pair of sweats she had stolen from him. 

Lorcan found he didn’t mind that she took his clothes.

“You two need to come with me.” That was all Maeve said before she was striding away and Lorcan clenched his jaw, following her at a much slower pace. Elide paused, making Maeve wait a little while ahead as she shoved her hair into a low bun. Maeve huffed and then led them into the living room of the guest house she occupied, where there sat a man whose presence they dreaded.

Benson.

“Well if it isn’t the happy couple!”

Lorcan whipped his head to Maeve, “What did you do?” She didn’t say a thing. “What did you do?”

She regarded him with a cool gaze. “Benson called me yesterday. Said you were lying so Elide wouldn’t get deported. Told me you would get caught and go to prison.” Lorcan narrowed his eyes and she continued, “Your mother knows nothing - let’s keep it that way. All you have to do is tell the truth.”

The agent stood and addressed Lorcan, both he and Maeve ignoring Elide as she slunk back, folding in on herself. Lorcan didn’t notice as she let go of his hand. “Your auntie here flew me up and we worked out a deal. All you need to do is tell the truth and this thing will all go away. No charges, no trouble.”

“And Elide?”

Benson made a face, “Mmm, she won’t be as lucky. No, she’s going back to Terrasen and won’t be let back into the country. Ever.”

“Why would I say yes to that?” he spat, livid as he stared down his great-aunt.

“You’re making a mistake-“

“That’s none of your fucking business even if I am!”

“L, it’s fine,” Elide whispered, trying to calm him but he wouldn’t have it.

“The hell it is. No, it is not fine!”

“Blah-blah-blah,” Benson said, “just tell me the truth and we’ll on be on our way. You know she doesn’t love you. This is all a business deal to her - you must realize that. She doesn’t care about you.”

Elide took Lorcan’s hand, her eyes open and unguarded - for him, only him, “Just tell them. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Lorcan looked at her for a long moment before he sighed through his nose and turned back to Maeve and Benson. “You want to know the truth? Listen up. Two years ago, I started working for Elide. We started dating six months ago, fell in love, and I asked her to marry me and she said yes. Happy?” He didn’t bother waiting for their responses before he was pulling Elide out of the house, storming away.

They were halfway down the stairs when Lorcan stopped and turned back, black eyes flashing as he snarled, “If either of you two show up tomorrow, I’ll throw you out myself.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide slipped out of their room when Lorcan was in the shower, padding out onto the patio, where she found Aelin. The woman smiled brightly, “There’s the blushing bride. How are you, darling?”

Elide didn’t return Aelin’s enthusiasm and her smile faded as she stood up and guided Elide to the couch. “What’s wrong?”

She took one look at the woman who’d become her close friend over the past four days and burst into tears. She only cried harder when Aelin hugged her close and whispered quiet nothings, making soothing sounds to calm her. “Let it out, girlie. Talk to me.”

Elide spilled everything, the entire unbelievable tale tumbling from her lips. Aelin didn’t say a word during the story until Elide let out a huge breath at the end. “Wow. It’s like a movie!”

“That’s so not what I want to hear right now.” Elide hiccupped, tears sliding down her cheeks again. “What do I do? He’s still going through with it, but I can’t let him ruin it all just for me.”

“Honey,” Aelin said, brushing back Elide’s hair from her brow, “I’ve known Lorcan for a long time, he’s like my brother and I love him to death. I’ve never seen him this happy, even when you two were pretending, which I don’t believe. Seriously, the chemistry is off the charts-“

“Relationships aren’t just chemistry.”

Elide received a sharp flick to the tip of her nose and exclaimed in shock, rubbing the inflicted area. “I know that, listen to what I’m saying. Whenever someone tells a joke, he looks around to see if you’re laughing too. He gives you random hugs just because. He kept you cooped up in that room after you fell in the water and fussed. That ridiculous boy doesn’t do that stuff to people he doesn’t care about. Trust me.”

“But-“

“Elide, listen to me. Lorcan is my best friend - we’re family, ok? When we first met, we hated each other. Couldn’t stand to be around one another without getting into screaming matches. One night, he found me hiding out in a corner, avoiding my ex at a party. Lor sat with me the entire night and shit-talked with me all night. The next day, I saw him telling my ex he’d kill him if he ever came near me again,” Aelin said, her eyes bright and warm. “I know what it’s like to see him care for someone. That boy is falling in love with you.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

When she got back to their room, Lorcan was in the bathroom, his attention focused on his hair. Elide walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her lips against his tattoo. She didn’t know what the symbols on his skin meant, but she knew he held them dearly to his heart – a way for him to bring a piece of his home everywhere with him.

“Benson’s left.”

“Hm.”

Lorcan turned and tilted her chin up, wiping away the stray tears that leaked down her cheeks. “Princess, please don’t cry. They’re not going to take you away from me - it’s gonna be fine.”

Elide turned her face to kiss his palm, closing her eyes. “I’m just tired, Lorcan. Come to bed?”

He was unconvinced but relented, not letting her get one step away before he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to bed.

He fell asleep first, his body a comforting weight keeping her pressed into the mattress. Despite what he had said and what Aelin had told her, she knew that there was only one option possible. She had taken so much away from him already and though just the thought of it made her heart ache, Elide knew she would be leaving the Northern Isles alone.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: oopsie 😳

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[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas2020 Day 1: Anathema

It’s that time of year again - when I bombard you with fic I’ve written over the year and haven’t posted, whether it is an outtake, part of a WIP, or something that ended up going sideways but still had some cool bits I was proud of. 

Everything will be tracked under the ‘TwiFicMas2020′ and ‘FicMas2020′ tags. Most fics are incomplete scenes - “--” is a scene break, “//” means that there’s a cut - it’s probably not yet written. 

--

First up is Anathema, the fourth or fifth attempt at the ‘Alice works in a mortuary/funeral home’ idea that refuses to solidify itself - though I think I’m getting closer. I enjoy the idea that Charlie Swan is in on Forks’ secrets (before Jacob strips in front of him, lol) and I am always here for the supernatural world being more than just vampires and shifters. 

I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

The day the Cullens arrive in Forks, two things happen.

The first, I draw both Death, and the Wheel of Fortune. A combination that, frankly, sounds time-consuming. I lie in bed and contemplate them for awhile. The cards are soft, from lifetimes of passing from hand to hand (my dearest and most beloved Great-Aunt Jeanne passed this set to me when she died. At the time, I was too young to understand the true gift in cards that had never before been touched by Brandon hands - before mine.) The cards are illustrated so carefully, so detailed. They smell like dried lavender and the scrap of linen that I wrap them in, and there is something so reassuring about each and every card.

I draw my cards every few days before I get up. I find it calming, the shuffle of them against my fingers, as I let my dreams fade. It’s a quiet time, and one I savour.

Eventually, I do have to get up, though. No rest for the wicked. The cards go back into the wooden jewellery box some young man carved for some young woman in Jeanie’s family long before I was even a glimpse of a thought, and back into my nightstand drawer.

I - we - live on the first floor of the Brandon Funeral Home, a perfectly respectable converted Georgian house at the end of Main Street, where it sweeps around to Cedar Road. It’s a shit place to have a corner, and more than once speed racers have spun out; whoever’s scraped off the road and our front walk usually end up in the freezers in the basement.

But I digress.

Breakfast is mundane. Dulcie is there, hair in curlers, and a frown on her face when she realises I am not dressed. I sit crosslegged across two thrift-store chairs in my camisole and booty shorts, spooning jam onto toast with the precision of a good scientist and ignore her reminding me of my dressing gown (a sturdy pink-flower print flannel that is buried in my closet. My preferred robe, a thin grey kimono, is currently in my laundry pile) and ‘common decency’, as if my elderly great-uncle is looking to leer at the decided lack of anything I have up north or down south.

Dulcie is… Dulcie. No replacement for Aunt Jeanie, but a good woman. I find it funny that Uncle Freddie is an old man now, and he still reels ‘em in. Or he would if Jeanie’s death hadn’t broken, shattered, and wrecked him. Dulcie worked for us for a few years before she set her eyes on the top bedroom and changing ‘Dulcie Dunn-Stanley’ to ‘Dulcie Brandon’.

Oh, that sounds very jaded. It’s mutual, Freddie and Dulcie. Their courtship was glacial and it’s really only recently that Dulcie’s been hinting about heading to the court house. And, honestly, whatever makes Uncle Freddie happy. Dulcie’s kind to me, we mostly get along, and her attempts to mother me are so far inconsistent - but she is usually pretty respectful.

My uncle lingers over his food; he’s got a new book open at his elbow, and no one can pry my uncle away from his books. They’re usually hardcover, non-fiction. Most of the boxes stored in the third floor are my uncles books.

After breakfast, I am banished to get dressed for work, which is in the basement today, where I am to be the hands as we prepare one Lewis Fletcher for his Saturday morning funeral. There’s a sack of bagged organs resting in the chest cavity, from the autopsy (elk or deer attack, the report says), and I get to stitch Lewis back together, get to fill him full of chemicals, seal things with putty, and get to face painting. The Fletchers are a pretty ordinary family locally, and the service will be simple - they were very agreeable when Freddie met with them last week.

I put my music on and hum as I prepare my kit. It’s no secret that an unqualified teenage girl doing this work probably breaks a lot of laws, but Freddie’s hands aren’t as steady as they used to be, and he’s old enough to remember when a family business meant that the younger generation was trained by the older at home, no degrees or certifications necessary.

Sometimes I wonder what Jeanie would have thought, me working down here like this. Would she have understood? Would she have been mad or upset or disappointed?

We’ll never know.

Freddie fetches us both a cup of tea, and hovers at my shoulder as I piece together Mr Fletcher’s chest cavity.

“Smaller stitches, Alice,” Freddie says, inspecting my work carefully. “Redo that section, stitch closer together, and small stitches.”

I nod, turning around to grab a scalpel from the tray beside me to cut the wonky stitches free and start again, and I freeze as the ice-cold feeling envelopes me. No, no, no it’s been so long…

For a moment, I am unfixed in time and space. I am still in the basement, with the buzzing fluorescent lights, and smooth metal drawers and cupboards, the stink of formaldehyde. But instead of a clean, bare second table, I am lying there. But I’m not dead, and I’m not alone. It’s him. The boy - man? - I’ve been seeing for so long, in visions and dreams. He’s hovering above me, a veritable sculpture of pale flesh as he peels off his shirt, our mouths still fused together, my hands gripping his hips. I am a much less collected figure, with my tights around my knees, one shoe still on and my shirt hiked up over my bra. Vision-Me pulls away to say something, and He laughs, and it’s then the light catches his eyes. Dark gold.

Golden-eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Real-Me says, and somehow Vision-Him knows I’m Seeing and looks right at me, where I’m standing with a scalpel in my hand.

“Alice?” My uncle’s hand on my shoulders brings me right back to the right point in time and space.

It’s at the point I hit the floor, manage to stab myself quite viciously with the scalpel and my uncle starts cussing.

It’s been a while between visions.

//

The Council was basically the reason Freddie and I stayed in Forks. It was a fifty-fifty split between honouring Jeanie’s wishes, and keeping me safe and out of sight - as if my aspirations were towards a Vegas nightclub act or international pop star. I wasn’t entirely clueless.  

Forks was built in a special place. A place where the barriers between the ordinary and the extraordinary were a little thinner, where the supernatural were drawn to. Jeanie had theorised that was why the Quileute were able to tap into their spirit wolves so easily, and why the gene remained so strong, father to son without a constant presence of their enemies. I didn’t know enough of their history to have an opinion, but Forks was definitely a place with an interesting history that very few people knew - even I only knew a fraction of everything that happened, past and present. There were very few written accounts; most of the histories were oral and passed down on a strict need-to-know basis.

The Council were definitely in the know, and had been for generations. There was Billy Black, Sue and Harry Clearwater representing the Quileute tribe, there was Charlie Swan representing Forks and everyone not in the know, and there was Freddie and I. Freddie, was technically Jeanie’s representative, and was the Mediator between the Ordinary and the Others. Jeanie’s family had been Mediators for generations, but she’d never had children, so all of that had somehow fallen onto Freddie - and me.

It was extremely useful to have the Police Chief and a Mortician working the Council - we’d had to fudge more than a few deaths. There was always someone or something passing through the Olympic Peninsula, and we’d negotiated, challenged, threatened, and banished more than a few creatures over the last few years.

Technically, all parties were allowed to bring their apprentice representative, but I was the only one of the next generation who attended. Charlie Swan had made it clear he didn’t want his daughter involved in any of this, and both Billy and the Clearwaters had decided that their kids were too young to know exactly what went on around here. I figured in a decade or so, it would just be me, Seth, and Jacob Black (no way would Leah hang around just for this shit show), drinking beer in the woods and deciding whether to burn or bury.

But tonight’s meeting was Special. Despite the fact I’d been drawing nonsensical cards for days now - the Star, the Tower, and Justice - no visions had appeared beyond a dream about a locket with ‘W’ engraved on it. I’d expected a fairly normal meeting, until Freddie had let me in on the plan - we were, apparently, meeting with the Cullen family. No one had informed me exactly what or who the Cullens were, only that they had a ‘fourth seat’ in the Council that they’d been entitled to since the ‘30s. I’d have to go through Jeanie’s diaries again - there were boxes of them in storage, and Jeanie had useful tidbits dotted throughout.

So that was why I was in the forest with my grandfather, shivering underneath two coats and in my new fleecy boots, standing around a fire pit that didn’t really do much more than illuminate the burning wood; the lanterns we’d brought were more effective.

Some days I really wished Leah or Seth or Jacob Black would attend these meetings; they’d certainly liven up these meetings a bit.

“They’ll be here soon,” Billy Black said grimly. Billy Black had it worse than the rest of us - getting out to this part of the forest was awkward and time-consuming with his wheelchair. Since these meetings were clandestine, we couldn’t build a proper track.

“The terms are staying the same?” Charlie asked, sipping from a paper cup of coffee Sue had pressed on him.

Billy frowned. “We aren’t here to renegotiate, but we will listen to their petition if they have one,” he said finally.

“What are the existing terms?” I asked, nudging a mossy rock with my toe.

“We’ll go over that later on, Alice,” Freddie said, watching the woods carefully.

Fine, obstruct my completely transparent attempt at finding out what was actually going on. I was definitely intrigued by the idea this clan had a ‘seat’ at the Council, but it involve negotiations? The only creature I could think of that would fit that kind of profile would be some kind of shifter.

I was bored.

And then the mysterious Cullens arrived.

They came out of the woods like a mist; slowly but all at once. They kept a respectful distance away from the fire pit, clad in pristine new clothing that was a touch too light for the cold weather but was good quality. There were three of them - a blond man, a brunette woman, and a red-haired boy - all three of them taller than average, and pale as snow. And they were lovely, as if Grecian statues had climbed down from their plinth and wandered off.

“Hello,” the man said, nodding at us politely. “Thank you for welcoming us to this meeting.”

“You’ve a right to be here, as outlined in the treaty,” Billy Black said sternly. “This is the current Council - Charlie Swan for Forks. My self, Billy Black, and Harry and Sue Clearwater for the Quileute tribe. Fred Brandon as Mediator. Carlisle Cullen for the Cullen Coven.”

Coven meant vampires. That dampened my spirits a little; my history with vampires was messy. Plus the few vampires that had ventured into this area had been unpleasant experiences. But as I stared at the Cullen coven, I noticed their eyes.

Golden, like liquid light.

Was He one of them? Was the Cullen coven only these three, or where there more?

“And the young lady?” Carlisle Cullen said, looking in my direction.

“My niece,” Freddie said in a no-nonsense tone. “Shall we begin?”

“I assume Ursula Altis has since passed? My condolences to her family,” Carlisle Cullen said. “I had a great respect for Ursula.”

“Yes. Ursula’s apprentice passed on several years ago, and she named Fred and Alice as her successors,” Harry said.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Carlisle Cullen nodded at Freddie and I. I half-smiled back at him. Jeanie had been gone a long time but I still missed her.

“This is my wife, Esme, and my oldest son Edward,” Carlisle gestured to his two companions.

“Oldest son?” Charlie Swan said sharply.

“Yes - I have three others, but we did not want to overwhelm you,” Carlisle said. “They are here, if you would like to meet them?”

“Yes. We want to know the entirety of your coven,” Harry said bluntly.

Carlisle grimaced and nodded. “Of course. My other children - Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper.”

Three more Cullens materialised from behind Carlisle Cullen - a tall blonde girl who was utterly breathtaking to look at, had a displeased expression, and was wearing the genuine designer version of my knock-off winter coat. The second was a bear of a man, with the friendliest face, and curly black hair, who winked at me as he wrapped an arm around the blonde girl’s shoulders.

And then a lanky blond boy with a dark expression and wavy blond hair, who hovered in the shadows, his features mostly obscured. All of them had the same golden eyes, the same pallor and dark under-eye circles. But they didn’t look or behave like other nomads that had passed through. They looked… like a nice family.

Maybe in a decade, Jacob, Seth, and I would be joined by Emmett Cullen for the ‘burn or bury’ booze up. He looked like he’d be the most up for livening up these meetings.

“Your family has grown.” Billy’s voice was accusing, and I turned to look at his stern expression.

“My son, Jasper, joined us in 1965,” Carlisle Cullen said politely, “Looking for a different lifestyle. We have abided by your terms, and would not have returned to this area if we were not prepared to continue to do so.”

The Quiluetes weren’t thrilled with that news, and Charlie just looked kind of tired. Freddie was taking notes on his phone, and I was just cold and getting bored again… until I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.

Jasper was prowling away from the others, closer to me, where I stood at my uncle’s side. Both eyes were on me, like liquid amber, and I finally got a good look at him.

Jasper was Him - the boy hovering over me, half-dressed on the gurney; the boy kissing my scar, and sliding in behind me in the shower. The boy that had hovered at the edges of my visions and dreams since I was young, with adoration in his eyes and gentle touches.

The boy I’d love so fiercely and deeply…

Talk about a terrible time to finally meet.

“Oh fuck,” I said, as I looked at him, eyes wide. All those wretched cliches that terrible books write about happened at that moment. I was enchanted, besotted, and absolutely irrevocably attached to this Jasper Cullen. He was mine.

“Step back!” Harry barked out, but Jasper Cullen ignored him, watching me carefully. I couldn’t help myself; I smiled brightly at him, and he kept moving towards me. Flashes of knowledge were appearing in my head, and for some reasons I kept seeing the Lovers card, still in my deck at home. I could hear people talking, getting angry, but it was like the buzz of insects as Jasper Cullen got closer to me. His hand reached out slowly, to stroke the curve of my cheek, studying me with the strangest look on his face.

And then the pain hit, like someone had shoved an ice pick through my left eye and into my brain. The visions were folding over and over, like origami, before I could decipher them. Choices being made, minds changing, so fast I could keep up. I heard myself cry out as I fell, and then everything was dark.

Then I was seeing things in real time. The way I fell, blood running from my nose, to everyone’s utter horror. My eyes were rolled back in my head, and my body jerked in a seizure a few times before I was still.

But no one could get near me. As soon as I had fallen, Jasper had crouched over my prone form, with a horrified look on his face. Everyone was yelling and trying to get closer, and Jasper let out a snarl that was, frankly, terrifying before refocusing on me, taking my hand and plucking my glove off it, to rest against his own cheek. Whatever that was supposed to achieve did nothing, and whilst everyone else was yelling and bickering, he let out a low whine that was so pathetic, if I’d had any control over my body, I would have sat up and given him a hug.

Then Carlisle Cullen placed his hands up to the Council in a gesture of peace and nodded to Emmett before approaching Jasper.

The conversation would have been too low for anyone else to hear, but not me, in whatever kind of vision this was.

“Jasper, I understand,” Carlisle Cullen said in a low voice. “But she’s got a medical condition, you need to let her people take care of her.”

Jasper growled low, Emmett’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bro, c’mon,” he said. “You’re scaring them,” he nodded over his shoulder. Sue’s face was white with fear, and I was scared that Harry was going to stroke out on the spot.

And I was there, Sleeping Beauty, with a smear of fresh blood on my face.

“I can’t,” Jasper seemed to force out between gritted teeth. “She’s mine.” It was said with determination and desperation, and a deep tenderness.

I was pleased that whatever my embarrassing collapse had been, at least I knew we were on the same page -that we knew each other and we knew each other.

And just like that, like they were magic words, my eyes open and I was back in reality, staring up at the man-boy who was staring at me like I held the secrets to the universe.

“Alice, did he hurt you?” Freddie called out in a strained voice.

“No, that was me. Too much new information,” I said, as I began to sit up, Jasper sliding my glove back on my hand before I realised it was still missing. He held out his hand to help me up, his touch so careful and gentle.

“Okay, good. Come over here,” Freddie motioned for me to move to where the group seemed to have bunched across from the Cullens. Charlie Swan looked murderous. “She’s nothing to you, boy, just let her go.”

I winced when Freddie said that, realising immediately it was like a red flag to a bull, and all of a sudden there was a lot of motion. Jasper growled, attempting to shove me behind him - to protect me? - whilst Emmett and Carlisle Cullen decided it was time to get Jasper physically under control, and pulled him back towards where the rest of the family was standing.

I tripped over a rock and stumbled but righted myself as Jasper was bodily dragged back to where Esme, Rosalie, and Edward Cullen were waiting, looking worried.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mrs Cullen asked as I moved back to Freddie’s side, where he quickly clasped me to him, giving me the once over.

“I’m fine,” I said before catching Emmett having bent Jasper’s arms behind  his back at a hideous angle, his knee digging into Jasper’s spine. “Oh, don’t hurt him! Please!” I made a move towards them but Sue grabbed my arm, and Jasper turned to stare at me with what I can only describe as hope.

“I think this meeting is done,” Charlie Swan said finally. “You agree to maintain the existing treaty - that’s all we need. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we don’t want to cause any issues,” Mrs Cullen said, and Freddie snorted, shielding me with his body.

I felt like a prisoner being frog-marched back to the car.

“Back at the Brandon’s?” Charlie said, as we arrived at the cars.

“Of course,” Freddie said. “Coffee and debrief.”

//

[sm-entertain-me]

Steamy (M)

Requested by @laurvamp33:  Hello! I hope I’m not being a bother by asking for another request but if you do take more, this is what I would like :)! I would like a Jaehyun smut where him and the reader (female) are in a sauna? Reader strip teases, male receiving, fingering, and riding? I hope that’s not too much! P.S: I 💜 your writings

Contains: Jung Jaehyun/Yoonoh x (f) reader, adult language, smut, explicit depictions of sex, unprotected/spontaneous sex, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), strip tease, exhibitionism, creampie, boyfriend!Jaehyun, girlfriend!reader

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend had won an all expense paid trip to a quaint little hot spring in the Rocky Mountains, taking this opportunity to make it a couples’ retreat. When push comes to shove and clothes begin to come off, you can’t help but find out what other purposes the community sauna can offer the two of you.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Jaehyun whined after you as you stood in the bathroom, leaning over the counter and checking your face for blemishes, something you did whenever you didn’t feel like trying to reason with him. For some reason, Jaehyun had been interested in going to the community sauna that the retreat offered, but that’s the thing. It was a community sauna, meaning it probably didn’t get the proper cleaning it was supposed to from time to time. Plus, you’re not that naïve. You know Jaehyun better than he knows himself at times. You know Jaehyun just wants you all to himself, naked, next to his sweaty body, glistening magnificently in the sunlight…

Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to go down to the sauna with Jaehyun. It would only be for a few minutes, not like you had to spend a whole hour in that confined space. But still, you made your decision based on the fact that you love seeing Jaehyun shirtless wherever he goes, knowing that all of that belongs to you at the end of the day. With a quick sigh and a short nod of your head, Jaehyun launched forward to grab some towels and immediately started stripping down to nothing in preparation of the fun sauna day.

The walk from your room to the sauna was fairly short, having to take a few annoying turns here and there while also avoiding eye contact from anyone who wondered why Jaehyun was only wearing a towel that hung loosely around his tone hips and why you didn’t seem to be wearing a bathing suit. Of course, the hotel staff assumed you were going to the sauna, so they didn’t think twice about asking you, only offering kind smiles as they directed you to where they assumed you were going. One of the hotel staff was getting a little too friendly when it came to gawking at Jaehyun and his body, so you felt the need to make her scram before you called her supervisor. She didn’t seem to like that idea too much.

“Was someone a little jealous?” Jaehyun asked with a slight chuckle in his voice as you two finally got to the sauna doors, making sure you had taken off the necessary items at this point before your belongings turned into a puddle from the heat coming through the doors. Even though you knew Jaehyun was joking when he asked the question, you couldn’t help but to think that yes, you indeed were jealous that another girl was staring at something that was rightfully yours.

“No,” You lied as the two of you stepped into the sauna, Jaehyun giving your ass a little smack as you walked in front of him with the towel still on. “I just think that someone needs to enlighten her on how to not check out other women’s boyfriends.”

Jaehyun could only laugh at you as he took a seat on the cedar bench, watching you and licking his lips as he patted the seat next to him. You’ve seen the look in his eyes before, actually many times before. Jaehyun’s eyes carried a tiny sparkle to them that hinted at his intentions being all but innocent, making sure to give you a little wink just to push the envelope that much further.

All his actions did was warrant a lengthy eye roll from you, placing your hands on your hips as you titled your head, “Really? You’re thinking about having sex in here? Do you know how gross it is to have sex in such a public place?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun began, leaning back in his seat and throwing his arms behind his head, knowing that his biceps would be bulging out because of the angle he had them in. “But do you know how fucking hot it is to have sex in such a public place? I figured you wanted to let that girl know who’s been getting my dick for the past two years. I can make you scream so loud that she’ll be able to hear it for days on end.” As if he needed to have sex with you in this particular spot to prove that. You were pretty sure even if you two fucked in your hotel room that you’d be loud enough to hear all the way down into the lobby.

Biting your lip at the thought of Jaehyun pinning you against the delicate wood of the bench, you nodded your head at Jaehyun’s proposition of getting back at the girl who thought Jaehyun was the perfect piece of meat. But before Jaehyun could reach out to grab you and pull you onto his waist in order to prep you, you shook your head at him, “Ahh ahh, ladies first.”

Although Jaehyun was a bit confused with your comment, he still decided to sit back and watch what you meant by “ladies first”. And what you meant by that was holding eye contact with him as your hands flew to the back of your head, pulling on the hair tie that currently held your hair up and letting your hair flow down along your shoulders, something that surely had Jaehyun shuffling in his seat.

Seeing Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob up and down was an indicator that your little plan was working, thus leading you to continue your work to get him all riled up before he had his way with you. Something you found to be beneficial to the both of you the longer you did it. Regardless, you continued Jaehyun’s private peep show by raking your fingers through your hair seductively, dragging your hands down the expanse of your chest, purposely giving your breasts a generous squeeze to exaggerate the shape of them.

Thanks to Jaehyun’s impatient nature, he immediately pushed himself off of the cedar bench beneath him, rising to his feet to place his hand on your jaw to bring his lips to yours. As he held your jaw in his hand, his other hand wrapped around your waist in order to push your torso against his, pressing your nearly naked breasts against his chest that was glimmering in sweat from the increased temperatures in such a confined space. Jaehyun’s eyes flickered from your eyes down to your lip that was currently nesting in between your teeth the longer you took in his appearance, feeling the sizable bulge grow against you. The last thing that was muttered between you too was, “My turn.”

After Jaehyun asked you rather impatiently to drop to your knees in front of him, he tugged sharply on the towel that hung loosely around his hips. Jaehyun then looked down at you with lust in his eyes, licking his bottom lip as he admired your jaw dropping at the sight of his angry cock, already leaking with precum that was begging to be licked by your salacious tongue. Upon seeing the look on your face, Jaehyun chuckled as he threaded his fingers into your soft locks, wrapping the thin tresses of hair around his knuckles as he growled down at you, “Be a good girl for me and I’ll make sure to reward you, babygirl.”

You didn’t have the need to respond to Jaehyun’s demands with words, opting for grabbing the base of his fully hardened cock in your tender hands, spitting on the tip of his cock to allow for adequate lubrication. Once satisfied with the amount of saliva you managed to get on Jaehyun’s cock, you ran your hand up the shaft to collect the mixture of cum and saliva, only to bring your hand down again to smear the mixture along his length. You then took Jaehyun into your mouth, running your tongue along his shaft to provide more lubrication and to taste his oddly sweet precum that now coats your tongue generously.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re doing so good, oh god,” Jaehyun groaned as his grip on the back of your head tightened, taking more of your hair in his hands as he bucked his hips forward whenever you bobbed down. Jaehyun could feel you smirk around his length as he continued to abuse your throat, resorting to taking both of his hands to the back of your head to have full control, knowing you love it when he completely destroys your throat. He thought it was going to hurt you in the beginning, but after realizing how wet you got from the whole ordeal, it’s been one of the most common practices in the bedroom. Or in this case, the sauna.

Saliva began to dribble down the sides of your mouth as you continued to take Jaehyun, ramming himself all the way to the back of your throat until you gagged wildly around him. A few more thrusts of his cock and you suddenly felt the absence of a cock in your throat, causing you to look up at Jaehyun who only looked at you with fond eyes. Without a word being spoken, Jaehyun helped you to your feet and brought you over to the cedar bench, allowing him to sit down first before pulling you onto his lap.

Jaehyun sighed up at you as he began to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, allowing his fingers to slide down your body and tend to the need of your neglected core that was beginning to form a wet path on his glistening thighs. “I told you I would reward you, jagi,” Jaehyun muttered against the skin of your neck, licking a stripe up the sensitive column to provide a distraction as his fingers plunged deep inside your aching walls.

A lengthy moan escaped your lips as Jaehyun held you in place with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pushing you down on his hand as his fingers worked to destroy you from inside. Jaehyun was becoming increasingly excited by how you shuddered around his fingers whenever his finger would trail against the most erogenous parts of you, curling up to reach your G-spot with no problem at all.

“Cum for me, baby. I want you to cum all over my fingers before I fuck you open,” Jaehyun growled into your ear, taking the soft flesh of your ear lobe between his teeth to stake his claim. Little did he know, the encouragement was all you really needed before your walls clenched around the three digits that were buried deep inside of you, making you scream out in pleasure as you writhed on Jaehyun’s lap. Needless to say, Jaehyun was very happy with his work as he helped you ride out your high before he transitioned to the thing he enjoyed the most.

Instead of flipping you on your stomach as usual, Jaehyun kept you right where you were, opting to yank your towel completely off you before positioning his cock beneath your now soaked entrance. Before you could even question his motives, Jaehyun’s hands were on your hips, pushing you down on his length.

“Ah, fuck,” You cried as Jaehyun’s cock split your walls wide enough to take his above average length, forcing your nails to dig into his perfectly toned chest. Jaehyun chuckled at your reaction to his surprise, pulling your hips back and forth for you to rock on his length, showing you the pace he wanted you to go on him before pulling his hands completely off of you so you could use him as you pleased.

Minutes after the adjustment of taking Jaehyun’s cock deep inside of you, you were bouncing up and down on his length like a woman starved, curses flying from both of your mouths as sounds of skin slapping on skin filled the cramped space around you. Jaehyun’s cock was already hitting all the right spaces as you continued to fuck yourself on him, throwing your head back as you bounced wildly, not even blushing over the sounds of your pussy squelching around his length. Neither of you seemed to care if anyone would be able to hear you anyway, as per your previous agreement.

“Oh god, baby don’t stop. I’m so fucking close,” Jaehyun begged as his hands tightened on your hips, holding onto you so that he could pump himself into you from below, a sensation that both of you were craving the whole time. With the addition of Jaehyun fucking into you from below, he sent you reeling, causing you to scream his name with the highest pitched scream you had ever made.

Regardless of you cumming hard around Jaehyun’s cock, you were still determined to get him to his edge by picking up the pace as much as you could, desperately pulling him to his edge a lot quicker than any of you had anticipated. With the simple cry of your name and a low groan, Jaehyun’s fingers dug into your pristine skin as he shuddered beneath you, shooting his release inside of you quickly. After the last velvety ropes of cum left Jaehyun’s cock, the two of you were quite spent as you slumped forward in Jaehyun’s arms, resting your head on his shoulder as you two listened to each other’s heavy breathing.

Once the both of you were all cleaned up and void of any unnecessary cum stains on either your skin or the hotel provided towels, you two left the sauna with huge smiles on your faces. As the two of you were walking hand in hand through the lobby of the hotel to get back to your rooms in hopes of taking a much needed shower, you caught a glimpse of the employee who was checking Jaehyun out earlier, smirking at her as you walked by. Jaehyun caught onto this as he leaned into your ear while also returning the poor girl’s gaze, “Do you think she heard us?”

“I sure hope so.”

[elliedoes]

Like Real People Do - Chapter Three

Dean Winchester x Reader

You hate Dean Winchester and he hates you, but you’re having his baby anyway.

Warnings: NSFW. Smut, adult language, unprotected sex, lots and lots of growling, lots of fluff. So much fluff.

Note: I like writing this story. Thank you for reading it. I love you. :)

If you’d like to be tagged, just let me know. Feedback is always appreciated.

Like Real People Do by Hozier.

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

You were starving by the time you finished unpacking. Your stuff mixed with Dean’s and you weren’t sure how you felt about it but he didn’t seem to mind. Nevertheless, there was a long of discussion as to what you could and could not have, none of it involving you, of course. Your head ping ponged between the brothers as they spoke. Sam wrote down suggestions from your visit with the doctor and, of course, from their quick search on Google. Dean settled on chicken with sides of mashed potatoes and spinach which you gave no objection to as long as ice cream could come after.

Sam ran out to grab the order he called in which left you and Dean alone. “How you holdin’ up,” he asked, his feet kicked up on the war room table as you casually scrolled through the website they used earlier.

“Fine,” you shrugged. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he parroted and pulled on his beer. “You sure?”

You looked up from Sam’s computer and sighed, “Didn’t we just talk about you not being clingy?”

“I’m not,” he argued. “I’m just making sure you’re okay. You’ve been in a car for a majority of the last two days, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

As calmly as you could, you closed the lid of the computer, wove your fingers together atop of it and leaned forward. “I’m fine. I’ll continue to be fine until I tell you otherwise. I’m only seven weeks pregnant and we have a long way to go. If you want me to stay in this hole with you, then you’re gonna have to stop,” you lifted a hand and waved it in his general direction, “whatever it is that you’re doing.”

Dean’s brow pinched in annoyance, but he held his hands up in defeat. “Okay. Alright. I get it. No need to be dramatic.” You opened your mouth, your started to flush and he quickly amended, “Not dramatic, bad choice of words.”

“I’m going to go lay down. Wake me up when Sam gets here.” You could feel his eyes follow you before you disappeared into the maze of the hallway. Eventually you found his room, which was now yours, too, apparently, and you climbed under the sheets. The foam mattress curved to your body and the sheets smelled like Dean, all whiskey, motor oil, and a cedar musk that was too comforting for your tastes, but made you give into sleep easily.

You whined as a gentle hand shook you an hour later. “Food’s here,” Dean’s quiet timbre informed. “Want to keep sleeping?”

Sleep did sound nice, wrapped in a warm Dean cocoon, but your stomach cried out for food. “‘M up,” you grumbled and cracked one open to see him grinning down at you. “What’re you smiling at?”

“Nothin’. C’mon, it’s gonna get cold.” He held a hand out to help you up but you ignored it and scooted out yourself.

Your hair was a mess and your clothes were rumpled from sleep but the face he gave you made your bad mood falter. “Stop it,” you rolled your eyes. His expression turned innocent but you could see the twitch of his lips. “Food?”

He lead the way back to the kitchen where Sam had already started to plate for you. “You’re amazing,” you groaned when you flopped down next to him. You leaned your head on his shoulder and felt the muscles move underneath as he dished out your meal.

“I picked it,” Dean reminded you.

“And he went to get and he’s plating it for me like a gentleman,” you teased, Sam matching your shit-eating grin that made his older brother scowl. “Thank you, Sam.” He slid the plate in front of you and you returned the gesture with a kiss on his cheek which only soured Dean’s mood.

Dinner conversation had nothing to do with babies or pregnancy, no monsters or demons, just you and Sam catching up on the latest Netflix binge you both had and started to make plans to see the newest Jurassic World. Dean interjected when he could, but Sam took up most of your attention until your plate was clean after two helpings.

Full and sated, you leaned back in your chair and rubbed at your belly. “Thank you for dinner, guys,” you yawned. “Might go back to sleep, that okay?”

“Of course,” Sam nodded at the same time Dean replied with, “Yeah.”

You pressed another kiss to the side of Sam’s head and headed back to the room and the bed that you were slowly falling in love with. After you stripped down to your underwear, you slipped underneath the blanket with a content sigh.

Dean joined you soon after you found a comfortable position. Neither of you said a word as he stripped down to a single shirt and his boxer-briefs to wiggle in next to you. The tv on the opposite wall flickered on and the flash of Netflix spilled across your bodies until he started to scroll through the selection. He queued up The Last Jedi and as much as you wanted to sleep, you couldn’t deny yourself Star Wars.

You turned onto your back and found his arm extended towards you with his eyes trained on the screen. There was hesitation on your part yet again, but you slotted yourself against him and accept the arm that wrapped around you.

Halfway through the two of you abandoned the movie in favor of exploratory kisses. The arm tucked under you moved from your shoulder to your hip when you twisted and curled around his side. His free hand ran through your hair after he pulled it from your hairband and came to rest in a curl around your neck. Your fingers twisted into his undershirt when his teeth dragged along your bottom lip.

It wasn’t fair how one man could make you so angry yet weak in the knees with need. “I hate you,” you sighed against his lips but stole a few more kisses. You felt his mouth turn up into a smile as he chuckled and returned every kiss with one of his own. “Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, I know.” His nose bumped against yours before his kisses trailed from your lips to the rest of your face. “Can’t hate me around the kid, though, heard that’s not good for their mental development or whatever.”

You closed your eyes as he continued his assault with his lips, “Guess that’s true. I’ll try to play nice when they’re around.”

“Thanks,” Dean snorted. His hand moved from your neck to cup your cheek and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. Your eyes to flutter open to meet his intense olive stare when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

“Bet you say that to all the gals,” you retorted but leaned up for yet another kiss.

“Only the ones carrying my baby,” he sighed into your mouth and forced his weight against yours. You rolled onto your back and he settled between your thighs before he licked into your mouth and rolled his hips against yours. Shamelessly, you moaned and rocked back.

His hands began to explore your body freely, something he didn’t get to do the last time he had you pinned beneath him. Thick, warm palms cupped you through the thin layer of your sports bra, your nipples hardening almost instantly to his touch. You loathed how easily your body reacted to him, but it felt so good to given in, it felt right.

He kissed from your lips to your jaw and nipped at your collarbones where he pinched pretty red marks that he was sure that would last for a day, two if he was lucky. You pushed a hand into his hair, the other rested along his shoulder blade where you rewarded him with a tug or a scratch whenever he did something you enjoyed, which was practically everything.

Once again he had you whimpering and whining underneath him like a virgin on prom night, wordlessly begging for more and he gave it to you once he had you out of your bra and panties. His mouth latched onto your breast, his wet tongue swirled and flicked at your nipple when two thick fingers slid down your slick folds. “Jesus, you’re soaked,” he murmured against the meat of your chest which earned him a slap to the back of his head. “Ow, what was that for?”

“Less talking, more sexing,” you demanded and rutted against his fingers. He apologized with a gentle kiss to your nipple before he moved to its sister to praise it with his devilish tongue and pushed two fingers into your core. You groaned as your eyes rolled into the back of your head and he stilled himself briefly for you to adjust before he slowly started to fuck you open.

He released your breast with a lewd pop to lift his head up and watched as he made you come undone with a third finger. You whined and rocked down to meet his agonizingly slow pace in an attempt to coax him into giving you more, to give you anything but the slow, grinding pump of his hand.

“Hello, Dean,” the graveled voice drawled from the darkest corner of the room.

The both of you jumped and you might have yelped, but Dean’s, “What the hell, Cas,” overpowered you.

“Sam told me the news. I came to give my congratulations and check on the Winchester baby,” the angel explained as he stepped closer to the bed.

Dean did his best to cover you up with his own body and blankets thought he looked like he was two seconds away from throttling his best friend. “Dude, the door’s closed for a reason. We talked about this, remember? Knocking?”

“Right,” Cas nodded and gave you an apologetic smile. “It’s nice to see you, Y/N. I’m sorry that I interrupted. It won’t happen again.” Dean slid off the bed and shooed the angel out into the hall. While you couldn’t hear exactly what he was shouting, you knew it couldn’t have been very good.

You placed your hands on your belly and grinned, “You’ve got a weird family, kiddo. I hope you’re gonna be ready for us when you get here.”

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@waywardbaby, @maddiepants, @ladywinchester1967, @death-unbecomes-you