#rolling ball of death!! (limited usefulness) (messy) (takes up space)

[harpuiaa]

made a shadow android oc bc i love to have fun and be silly. Her name is alloy and she thinks she's a copy of neo metal sonic (she's not very smart)

first one is a style mimicry, and the rest is in my normal artstyle.

the orange shadow android in some of these is @id-f87's maria

[cdroloisms]

Dream thought that he can bring server together, he thought that they can be one big family... Well at least he really bond them, even if they bonded to fight against him. Even if that mean he's not part of this server anymore.

right,, the one big happy family thing always destroys me

bc it’s really the driving force behind everything he’s done, the reason why he’s cut off everything he’s ever loved, moved forwards despite everything he’s ever lost. it doesn’t make what he does right, by any means, but c!dream’s longing for a better past, his clinging to a family he loved and lost - it’s so desperately, painfully human and is very much the cherry on top of his whole tragic story. it’s something that tugs at my heart every time i think about it - especially how in the end, pretty much nobody knew what drove him to the lengths he went to, and how everyone still sees him as being motiveless, or doing it all for personal gain and power. it’s reasonable, with their limited povs, but oh man does it hurt when we know his real reasoning.

this,, ended up weirdly long haha but oh man was it fun. have some dream team angst as i cry abt c!dream for the millionth time 

tws: death, grief, off-screen murder, implied mental deterioration

Two weeks after Dream dies, Sapnap asks George if he wants to come to the vault.

He almost says no. It’d be an early journey if they want to get out without anyone seeing, and he’s just- tired. He’s been tired for months even though he spends most of his time sleeping, usually can’t even find the energy to pull himself out of bed. The weird dreams hadn’t helped in the slightest, though they’ve been gone for a few weeks, and he’s not seen XD in a long time, save for a few minutes after he first heard the news. In all honesty, he doesn’t want to deal with the mental strain of anything to do with Dream at all.

But- Sapnap is still his best friend, even if they’ve grown apart ever since that fateful night with Dream, and he still knows the Netherborn better than nearly- well, everyone, now, with Dream gone. As much as Sapnap tried to put on a strong front, Dream’s death had taken its toll.

Killing Dream had taken its toll.

He’d been asleep (again) when it all went down, but he knows that somehow, Dream had escaped prison. Somehow, it ended with Sapnap’s sword stabbed hilt-deep in Dream’s chest, an unmarked grave in the forest behind the Community House that he knows Sapnap visits when he thinks nobody’s watching.

So when Sapnap asks, dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, if he wants to come with him to see what belongings they can find in Dream’s old blackstone-brick vault- he says yes.

“There,” Sapnap gestures over the crest of a netherrack cliff above a bubbling lava lake, and George strains to look at what the other is pointing at. There, settled over a small outcrop of netherrack and gravel, a messy bridge of various blocks leading from it, lies the signature black and purple silhouette of a nether portal. “It’s just across that.”

George hums in acknowledgement, and they clamber down in sync. It’s been a while since he’s spent time one-on-one with Sapnap like this; George had half-forgotten what it feels like, to work with someone so different and yet know them so well. Years and years of teamwork means they fall in step almost without thinking, Sapnap easily sliding forward to block a skeleton’s arrow while George nocks one of his own to shoot it through the skull. It is a partnership built on years of bickering and banter and deep-set trust, of having to face a stronger, more agile opponent together through wind and rain and snow.

He missed it, though he’ll never admit that to anyone but himself.

He hesitates in front of the nether portal, pulling Sapnap back automatically by his sweater sleeve. “You sure the other side is safe?”

“Yeah, yeah- it should be,” Sapnap pulls his arm away, lets him enter the portal first before stepping into the frame himself. “Not a manhunt.”

“Mm,” George laughs, tired. “Just checking.”

The portal hums, purple creeping into the corners of George’s vision and filling it until it’s all he can see, and he rubs at his eyes to clear his vision as he stumbles out the other side. Sapnap walks out, seeming unfazed - it’s always been something that George has envied in the other, how unaffected he is by portals, but he’s also always had worse portal sickness than most- “We’re here.”

The place is - put lightly, a wreck, wooden planks scattered all over the floor and inch-deep water sloshing around his shoes. “What’s with the water?”

“I don’t know, someone must’ve come here after for something,” Sapnap frowns, points across the room to a chute leading upwards, filled with a crude spiral staircase of oak. “We’re going up there.”

George nods, letting him take the lead. The staircase is rickety, the bottom steps waterlogged; Sapnap grimaces the whole way up, makes some comment under his breath about how unsafe it all is, but they continue without much issue. The top of it is surprisingly unassuming - there’s really nothing around, just a small hollowed out space carpeted by savannah grass, shorn short. Sapnap tosses him a pickaxe.

“He respawned up here, that day - he’s gotta have a bed up here somewhere.” He gestures at the plain stone walls surrounding them, “My guess is that it’s just behind one of these walls. Just mine two or three blocks in all the way across, I’ll start from this side.”

“Whatever, Snapnap,” George takes the pickaxe anyway, walking over to the other side of the room and ignoring the protests Sapnap throws at his back. Mining the stone is simple, methodical; it’s a steady rhythm of the pick hitting stone and blocks falling into his inventory; if he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that they’re in the middle of a manhunt, and Dream has holed himself into the wall as he always does for them to find him. He doesn’t, because thinking about manhunt does nothing but make something cold and choking claw up his throat, almost like guilt, almost like regret, and he doesn’t have the energy for that in the slightest.

His next swing rings oddly hollow, and when the block drops neatly away the wall opens to a narrow corridor. He calls Sapnap over.

“Here.” Sapnap moves with large, heavy strides, face tightening into a foreign expression of grim determination when he catches the darkness behind the one-block hole George mined, “I found it.”

“Well, obviously,” he rolls his eyes as he takes out the bottom block, looking at George from the corner of his eye. “Nice observation, genius.”

“Hey! You told me to find it, and I did, unlike you- you should be thanking me, Sapnap.”

“Whatever, Gogy,” Sapnap sighs, looking into the corridor, feet settling against the ground into a wide stance that George recognizes as the one he’d usually use in a fight. It makes something long-forgotten ache in his chest, joining the dull ball of hurt that has been there for what feels like months, “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up, will you?” The retort rings hollow, dying on his lips even as he says it, and George watches as Sapnap turns his head away and pretends not to notice.

“Let’s go.”

The hallway is dark, dusty, a hastily made thing as shown by the rough gouges made on either side by a quickly working pickaxe. It opens into a tiny room, similarly carved into the mountain with roughhewn walls of stone; George’s lips thin and press against each other as he takes a closer look at the room, stepping in behind Sapnap.

“This place is a mess,” he states drily, scuffing his foot against the floor and cringing at the trail it leaves in the dust. There’s a bed left in the corner, a thin little thing with the covers thrown off, lying halfway on the floor, and a few chests and furnaces scattered aimlessly against the walls and making the whole thing look more cramped. There are papers strewn over the floor and chests, piles of coal and wood left to collect dust in the corners. It looks like a whirlwind swept through the place, and it’s almost eerie to see this room, completely untouched since the twentieth, a snapshot in time of Dream in the middle of his spiral into madness.

Sapnap kicks at one such pile with a humorless scoff, “That’s an understatement.”

“You looking for anything in particular?” George jabs his thumb at the mess in front of them, “Because I’m not cleaning all of that up.”

“I guess- just look through the chests?” Sapnap’s face darkens visibly even despite the dim lighting, and George stifles the urge to poke fun at how the younger clearly didn’t plan this far ahead, per usual. “Just look for anything useful, worth taking back I guess.”

“Mmhm.” He moves to the left-most chest as Sapnap moves to the right, watching from the corner of his eye as the other strikes up a torch to place in the middle of the room. The lid creaks open, and he rummages through the contents, vaguely surprised when his hand meets row after row of glass bottles. He pulls one out, squints at the contents. “Hey Sapnap, is this a regen?”

Sapnap looks over. “Yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes when George pockets it. “Seriously- you know Sam literally has an automatic potion brewer, right. You can just steal from that instead.”

“Or I could just steal from here,” he closes the lid, moving to the next chest. “That’s just his pots chest. He really stacked up, didn’t he?”

“Well, you know Dream. Always had to plan for the end of the world.” Sapnap closes the chest that he was hunched over, tossing over something in a flash of gold, “Was just his food chest. Don’t know why someone needs eight stacks of gapples, but whatever. We can split the god apples later.”

“Sure,” George nods, distracted as he fiddles with clasp of the next chest. This one, unlike the last, seems more worn over the bottom edge of the lid, the wood almost seeming to bear dents where fingers had pressed into the areas right by the clasp again and again. The lid eases open, and he frowns at the chest’s contents; there’s no rhyme or reason to them at first glance. There’s a half-stack of stone in the top left, a couple pieces of leather thrown in the bottom corner, a low-durability crossbow, unenchanted, that he briefly runs his hands over before throwing it back into the chest. He rummages through it for another second, about to dismiss it as a junk chest, when a well-worn book near the back of the chest catches his eye.

He pulls it towards him with careful hands, breath having caught in his throat. The cover is leather, scuffed and scratched in several places, not bearing the dull shine of a book that’s been signed and preserved magically. It doesn’t seem to be titled, no ink against the usual places on the front cover or spine, but the whole thing looks well-loved, the thread of the spine slightly frayed the leather heavily creased from where the cover had been eased open again and again.

He opens the front cover, and sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Sapnap? I think I found something.”

There, nestled between the front cover and the first page, lays a pile of photographs. Unlike everything else in the room, these are clearly well-loved, well-cared for, the corners are sharp, the surfaces shiny, despite how often they must have been thumbed through and looked at. He plucks the first one off the top of the pile - it’s one that was taken from the inside of the old community house before the floor was replaced with crafting tables, string lights hanging from the ceiling in an impromptu party, Alyssa’s legs dangling from where she’s sitting at the edge of the spiral staircase, Callahan leaning against the wall with a slice of cake held between his hands. Sapnap’s sitting in the middle of the floor across from himself, both of their faces glowing softly in the flickering light - his own face is caught in a grimace, Sapnap bent over himself in laughter- Sapnap walks up behind him, gasps at the sight.

“What are-”

George passes over the photo wordlessly as he moves to the next; there’s Sam, grinning at the camera with a newly tamed Fran by his side, tail a white blur against the green of the grass; Bad, hands clutched around a bucket as he yells at someone off the frame, a salmon head poking slightly out the top; Ponk, sitting proudly in the top branches of his first lemon tree.

His breath catches at the next; it’s dim, the sky a pretty blend of purple-pink from the last remaining dregs of light of a sunset, hovering over the dark edge of the ocean stretching out towards the horizon. They’re sitting in boats, the bottom edges lit softly from the coral sitting in the shallow waters below them, brilliant halos of reds and pinks and yellows and oranges and blues dotted with the soft lights of sea pickles painting the wood in muted rainbows. Sapnap’s smiling from one in the back, head tipped to the side cheekily, right hand lifted in a cocky two-fingered salute. George is sitting in the back of a boat in the foreground, glasses lifted to his forehead, eyes mid-roll even as he grins obligingly at the camera-

And then, in the front, there’s Dream.

His mask is pulled to the side of his face, exposing his freckled skin and brilliant green eyes; he’s smiling widely, all teeth, hair wet and sticking up in a ring of untamed swirls and spikes. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, cheeks red, arm stretched forward off-frame from where he’d held the camera in front of them to take the selfie. George’s thumb brushes over the photo, pressing lightly against the dusty mess of hair framing Dream’s face, pausing at the sight of his pure, unadulterated joy.

What had happened to them?

A soft, choked sound comes from behind him, and George tucks the photos away, pressing them between two random pages in the book. His eyes flicker to the book’s contents, finally, finding Dream’s familiar, looping scrawl written on the first page. The words are big and messy, all capitalized and underlined several times, the last four circled roughly.

REMEMBER WHY YOU’RE DOING THIS: ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY.

He snaps the book shut.

“George-”

“Let’s go home, Sapnap.” He throws one last look at the room, at the messy, desperate edges, the remnants of a man lost in his own reckless belief that he could build something beautiful out of blood and ash. He swallows, blinks back the image of a brilliant smile, freckled cheeks ruddy with laughter, at the golden glow of memories long-forgotten that threaten now to burn him with their warmth. He can imagine Dream, settled in the middle of this mess, pressing himself closer to the fire contained in these photographs, these memories, and not realizing how he’s being burned, can nearly see a ghost of him tucked in these shadowed corners, haunting the hopes that he had clung to against all reason with the promise that it could all be worth it.

Sapnap frowns at him tiredly, photos pressed against his own chest. “George,” he says, cautious, and George’s shoulders hunch defensively.

“Let’s go home,” he stands up, hearing more than seeing as Sapnap does the same. “Whatever closure you’re looking for- you’re not finding it here.”

[hortensemitchell]

Just Us

 In the quiet of the night James finally has the time to reflect on his very first night in Hollywood. Under the pressure of his own thoughts, he'll find that he is never alone.

Rating: G

Pairing: N/A.

Words: 1868

The bedroom was dimly lit by the street lights peeking through the cracked and broken pieces of the blinds, illuminating the dingy carpet and dull paint of the walls. Virtually every space of the room was lined with miscellaneous boxes with messy scrawl, ‘summer clothes’, ‘electronics’, ‘hair products’. James made a mental note to dig into that box first when morning finally hit.

Whether the boys realized it or not, his regimen was more crucial now than ever. He thought back to the events earlier today and the impossibly beautiful up and coming stars that lounged around the Palm Woods. What made him special back home, his dazzling smile, piercing eyes and washboard abs, it was all part of the everyday here in California.

And if everything he worked so hard for was mundane here, what did that make him? He rolled over in his bed, tugging the comforter tighter around his shoulders almost as if the blanket would protect him from the frantic thoughts plaguing him.

Nothing about him was average, he refused to believe that. He can remember as far back as when he and the other boys were just starting as members of the junior hockey league, that he had also had his mind set on performing. Back then he had to beg and plead his mother for permission for singing and dance lessons. She argued that his schedule was already too full and his education would fall to the wayside, but after countless carefully constructed presentations on the benefits of these lessons and promises that Logan would tutor him, she relented.

He remembered how the boys used to tease him about the lessons when they were younger, jokes and jabs at their regular Friday night sleepovers at Carlos’. James knew they never meant any of it though because on the evening of his very first talent show, he peeped out of the curtain to see them sitting in the front row with the widest grins imaginable.

It was that night that he had finally decided this was his calling. Just seven years old, singing John Mayer and dazzling the crowd like he was born to. He lived off the high long after the song was finished and the curtains had fallen shut.

When he finally made his way back to everyone, the boys descended on him, each talking over the other in so much excitement about how cool he was and how he should have won over the unicycling juggler. His mother hadn’t been able to make the performance, a last minute work emergency she claimed. He didn’t let that get to him though, enjoying the good natured hair ruffling of Papi Garcia, the boys' unabating chattering, and Mama Knight’s promises of pizza. Even then he knew there would be other performances, and he would be so good that she couldn’t miss them.

And he did get better, way better. But was it enough? He could carry a tune, dance any routine that was thrown his way, but could he gain the type of fire that Gustavo was looking for? Failing wasn’t an option, if he turned back to Minnesota his mother would have him on the fast track to business school and this dream would be gone. Failure wasn’t an option, he couldn’t fail, he had to-.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of cold air against his back as the comforter was pulled up and over someone slipping into the bed beside him. Carlos. James didn’t make any move to turn around and face him in the cramped twin bed and chose to stare at the light of the hallway creeping in from under the doorway. He had almost drifted to sleep from listening to the soft breathing from the other boy when Carlos broke the silence.

“I could hear you thinking from over there.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Did you wanna talk about it?”

The last thing he wanted to do was bring all of this worry onto someone else, so James did what he did best, deflected. Rolling over in the bed careful not to knock Carlos to the floor, James sat up and faced the other boy.

“So we might have striked out against the Jennifers, but I doubt they can resist my charms for long. I’ve already come up with a three step plan that will have them dying for a chance to date any member of our band.”

“James-”

“Though side note, we really need to come up with a name and soon. It seriously hurts your cred to say you’re in a band without a name and-”

“Look I-”

James just continued to press on hoping Carlos would get the hint to drop it, “Maybe if we learn some instruments, we could get in on that gig that that guitar dude seems to have going on at the pool, I mean chicks dig musicians.”

Carlos pulled himself into a sitting position beside James, raising his hand up to signal him to stop.

“It’s okay James, I’m scared too.”

And that was not exactly what James expected to hear.

“You don’t get scared. Just last week I watched you ride your mountain bike off of the top of Kendall’s house into their above ground pool. And let’s not forget the time you took one for the team and took Jenny Tinkler to homecoming.” He shuddered at the memory of her knocking over the snack table and somehow setting the DJ equipment on fire. “It’s hard to believe you’d get scared about anything.”

There’s a moment of silence between them before Carlos replies, “This is kinda different, ya know? Reckless behavior and wacky shenanigans? I can handle that no problem, but this is serious. And I’ve never been that great at serious.” He scratches his neck nervously, and looks off to the side. “I don’t want to ruin your dream dude.”

“You wouldn’t and you can’t.” He stretched his arm around the other boy’s shoulders, pulling him gently to his side. “It’s because of you guys that I even got the opportunity to be here, my dream wouldn’t work without everyone.”

He felt Carlos shake with laughter slightly before he replied, “Well technically we’re here because of Kendall, but I’ll take the sentiment cause it's a weirdly emotional night.”

James just rolled his eyes, though thankful that Carlos pulled them back from all the emotion talk. He wasn’t wrong, Kendall was the driving force of all this. He had the ‘fire’ as Gustavo called it. He would just describe it as stubbornness and a sheer lack of respect for authority, but somehow Kendall made those qualities seem endearing.

The door to the room creaked open bathing Carlos and James in the hallway light, the pair both shielding their eyes to adjust to the change in brightness. Just as quickly as it was opened, it shut again, quietly as to not wake up the other people in the apartment. Even after being partially blinded James knew that Kendall and Logan were approaching the bed, he’d know them anywhere.

“Any chance you have room for two more?” Kendall asked, already pulling himself onto the bed. The springs under it groaned as he and Logan shifted to get comfortable facing James and Carlos at the foot of the bed. For a moment James wondered just how much the weight limit was for this rickety bed frame.

“You guys couldn’t sleep either?” James questioned as he and Carlos pulled the comforter over the other two boys' legs.

“It isn’t actually that weird that we all can’t sleep. Scientists believe that this is just our brains natural instinct to protect itself in a new environment full of unforeseen threats. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it.” He glanced around at the other boys on the bed taking note of the way James was holding one of his pillows tightly to his chest, and Carlos was picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “Something tells me though, that we are all awake because of more than first night jitters.”

There was something a little comforting to James, that all of them were nervous about the future. Sometimes he forgot that even though Kendall was their fearless leader, Carlos was their wrecking ball with a heart of gold, and Logan was their resident genius, they were all still four hockey heads from Minnesota and completely out of their comfort zone.

From across the bed James saw Kendall straighten his posture and he knew immediately that they were in for one of his famous pep talks.

“So what if everyone here is a better singer or dancer than we are. And who cares if every person we come across is more attractive and talented. And who-”

James quickly introjected, “Is this going to get positive anytime soon?”

“I was getting to that.” Kendall replied with a roll of his eyes, “My point is there are always going to be people who are better than we are. It’s a given, but we all have something that everyone here doesn’t.”

“Lightning Fever Barracuda hair gel.”, “Mama Knight’s signature corn dog recipe.” “A death wish.”

“No. What I was getting at is look around. Even out of our depth, we still have each other. The stakes might be higher for sure, but we are still together setting out our game plans dog piled into one bed just like when we were kids. And I don’t know about you, but I think that is a hell of an advantage over anyone in Hollywood.”

And that is why he’s the leader James concluded. Some heartfelt words and an earnest smile, and Kendall could convince them they could do anything. It seemed silly to him that he had been so worried earlier in the night. Looking around at the other boys in the dim moonlight, he realized that he wasn’t in this alone. And even if this didn’t work out, he knows there are three people who would never let him feel like a failure.

“Well since I doubt any of us will feel like sleeping anytime soon, does anyone have some band name ideas? I’m thinking something like James and the Diamonds.”

He saw the good natured eye rolls from across the bed and felt Carlos groan from his spot under James arm. It felt good to get back to normal and he eagerly slipped into their own routine, bickering about what really qualified as a solid band name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please, please can I wake them up? One smack of the pot that’s all.”

In the morning light, Mama Knight stood in the doorway observing the scene before her. She had gone to Logan and Kendall’s room first, but when the room was empty she had a feeling this is where they would be.

All four boys were tucked under the comforter of the twin sized bed, practically asleep sitting up. She smiled softly to herself, noting that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

She shook her head, gently leading Katie from the room, “Let them sleep a little while longer, they have a long road ahead of them.”

[timmyteehill]

Discord Thread || Kami & Tee

Discord thread featuring: Tee & @kamidesai

When: 26th December 2020

Mentions: N/A

Description: Tee and Kami get trapped in an elevator together.

Trigger Warnings: feels

Tee

Christmas Day turned out to be pretty good, all things considered. He had a very needed talk with Jack and got to spend some time with him on Christmas, just as they used to when they were together. Add to that the fact that his brother wasn’t a total asshole as usual, and it made his day as good as it could get. So he was in a very good mood today as he walked through the mall to buy himself something with a gift voucher he received. Being his lazy self, he decided to take the elevator instead of the stairs, only to realise that someone else was already in there with him. Shit. What was it with him and running into exes lately? It was too late to get out without making it too obvious so he just pressed the button for his floor and coughed awkwardly. “Hey Kam.”

Kami

Malls. Disgusting things really, if you think about it. Screaming kids, people in a hurry mixed with people who are trying to kill time. Top that with endless employees in every store that hate their job, germs, and gum ball machines older than your parents, and it was a cocktail for a terrible experience. However, his favorite vape shop just happened to be on the second floor, and after picking up some more cartridges, Kami Desai found himself in the last spot he’d like to currently be. “Heyyyy.” He nodded, glancing over at his ex boyfriend momentarily before pretending to look at something on his phone. “How’s it going?” Yeah, he really shouldn’t try to make small talk.

Tee

Tee wished it wouldn’t be so awkward between them but their breakup was both recent and messy. How could some people say they managed to stay friends with their exes? It sounded fake to Tee, especially since even things with Jack only started getting better recently. “It’s going well...work’s good, family doing okay.” This kind of felt like pulling teeth. Good thing he only needed to bear it for a but more time before he could make a run for it. Or at least that’s what he thought until the elevator made a strange noise and came to an abrupt halt. What the fuck.

Kami

Kami was nodding along to Tee’s answer, but the second the fucking elevator went down, everything else was out the window. Kami was one who was easy to panic. Always ready for shit to hit the fan, and he honestly didn’t like tight spaces to begin with. “Oh...” he started, turning around in a full circle with both hands in his hair. This was his worst nightmare, being in a stick elevator, and with his ex boyfriend??? My god. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.” He cursed, and then looked up as if he was someone silently praying for the elevator to live. “Oh my god. We’re gonna DIE in here.” A little dramatic, but what else was new?

Tee

Tee wasn’t the biggest fan of tight spaces and getting stuck in an elevator wasn’t in his top ten list of things he wanted to do but he tried to remind himself this was a mall in the middle of the day, someone was bound to get them out soon. His attempt at calming thoughts went out the window when he saw the way Kami was panicking. “We’re not going to die”, he said, trying to stay calm. Tee pressed in the emergency button and hoped someone would actually be coming for them soon because his ex didn’t exactly seem to be in a position to wait. “There, see? I pressed the button so now they’re going to realize we’re stuck in here and come get us out. No dying.”

Kami

Kam wasn’t surprised that Tee sounded so done with his behavior already, something he was used to from their relationship. Kami could be a lot to handle, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from acting any less dramatic. “How do you know? This thing could just like, free fall at any minute, and we could be DEAD.” Even if the elevator did drop, it’s not like they were that far from the ground. Not that it was going to happen even remotely similar to that. “I’m telling you tee, I don’t have a good feeling about this.” He huffed, and then started to turn in a circle as if that was somehow going to make the situation better.

Tee

As much as he tried to ignore Kami’s words, Tee couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the elevator free falling to their deaths. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he tried to focus on the situation at hand. One of them had to stay level headed as both of them panicking over their imminent deaths would be a complete disaster. “It’s not going to do that, there’s like...elevator safety protocols and all that.” Was there? Who knows, but if it helped Kam calm down he was going with it. “Turning around in a circle isn’t going to help, you’re just going to make yourself more anxious.” Not that he thought it was going to work. Kami didn’t listen to his advice while they were dating, he doubted he was going to listen now. “How about we just sit down?”

Kami

Oh great, it wouldn’t be Tee without the man trying to tell Kami what he needed to do. Which of course wasn’t how Tee meant it to come off at all. Kam was just an idiot, and quick to assume things. This was one of their many issues. “Sit down?! How can I just sit down?” He asked like no one had ever requested he do anything worse. You’d think Tee was asking him to break through the doors and jump to his death. “Do you believe in karma?” He suddenly asked, knowing it was a drastic change in subject, but it’s not like Kam was ever without dramatics

Tee

If there was one thing Kam was great at, it was changing subjects at the click of the fingers. He could go from completely panicking about the elevator falling to their death to karma like it was no big deal. And obviously his advice fell on deaf ears and only made things worse. What was so horrifying about sitting down? All the pacing did was put extra pressure on the elevator so if it was about to fall, wouldn’t that make it worse? Saying that wouldn’t make much of a difference though so he didn’t bother. “What does karma even have to do with all this?” he asked, sitting down himself.

Kami

“Well, besides the irony of “what goes up must come down”, I’m feeling like maybe I’ve done something to deserve this.” He answered easily, looking at his ex boyfriend with a worried expression. It was clear that he really did believe what he was saying, which should come as no surprise. “Yesterday, I called in sick to work, but I wasn’t sick.” He stated in a rushed tone, a hand moving through his hair out of sheer nerves before he cleared his throat. “Every time I lie, something bad happens. It never fails, and now look where I’ve gotten us...”

Tee

“You know what? You’re absolutely right. I’m sure the elevator got stuck because the cosmic gods wanted to get back at you for calling in sick to work when you weren’t really sick”, he said, rolling his eyes to show just how much he believed what he was saying. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck here with you and I can assure you that I’ve gone to work whenever I was supposed to do how is this fair?” Tee was a pretty sceptical person and didn’t believe in this sort of thing so the chances of him thinking this was karma were slim. Unless this was faith’s way of getting back at him for trying to make Jack jealous...but no. This sort of thing didn’t exist.

Kami

Kam have his ex a glare when he decided to get sassy, something he was very much used to, but it was still one of his major pet peeves. Kami wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box, but he hated more than anything to feel like he was stupid. “I’m sure you’ve done more than just be late for work.” The tattoo artist countered, not really meaning to sound vindictive, but he kind of did anyway. Oops. “Are you saying you’ve never done anything wrong?”

Tee

Tee doubted they were still talking about lying at this point and something told him this was a dog at their relationship, which he didn’t appreciate. “No, I’m saying that when I did something wrong I admitted it instead of trying to blame others when things go badly for me especially when they’re only trying to help.” It wasn’t as simple as that, and he knew that but Tee was never known for keeping his mouth shut. At least they weren’t talking about their imminent elevator death anymore.

Kami

Kam looked at the other male like he might as well have just been slapped across the face. He hadn’t been specific in his snap at Tee, so to have it turned around on him like that, when he had nowhere to go...yeah, Tee had to know this wasn’t going to end well. Kam wrapped his arms around himself, and closed his eyes, feeling like he was going to start getting unnecessarily worked up if he didn’t practice some deep breathing. At least he learned that from their relationship. “I don’t wanna do this with you.” He finally spoke through a shuttered breath, not even able to look at the younger as he tried to relax.

Tee

Tee knew what the other was doing to keep himself calm, probably because it was something he suggested to him when they were still together. Good to know Kam had at least taken his advice for something. “Fine, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” He wasn’t being fair and he knew it but for some reason Kami always managed to bring out the worse side of him. “You’re always running away from any serious conversation, even when there’s nowhere for you to go.” And okay, bringing that up again while they were still stuck in an elevator was not his smartest move.

Kami

Kam was really calm natured, he kind of had to be with all the shit he went through growing up. He was one to push it all down, ignore it, and it’ll go away. So, when he DID get pushed to his limit, it was like waiting for a volcano to explode. He looked like he’d been pushed towards a cliff when Tee took a dig at him, something he did not wanna deal with today. “And here you are, as always, trying to force people to talk when they don’t want to. Just because you’re a “therapist”.” Kami used air quotes, and then pushed some hair out of his face. “I’m not paying you to listen to my issues, you don’t have to pretend like you care.”

Tee

This wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before and yet it still hurt to hear. Tee still couldn’t believe Kami thought this of him; that he tried to force him to talk because it’s his job. “Yeah, because it’s so unheard of for someone to want their boyfriend to talk to them because they care”, he said, rolling his eyes. It was his way of denying how much his words actually hurt. What was it with him dating people who refused to open up and tried to brush off his attempts to help as ‘wanting to be a therapist’? “I never wanted to force you to talk but considering we broke up I thought we could at least do that now that you don’t have to hide and run away from your problems anymore.” Clearly he thought wrong. “And I can’t believe you think I pretend to care.”

Kami

“I just don’t know what you want from me.” Kam snipped, and then finally sunk down the wall of the elevator until he was seated. His arms crossed over his chest, holding himself while he turned to look towards their reflection on the back of the doors. This was his worst nightmare, and no amount of meditation seemed to be calming him down. “Some people find it easy, just blurting out what they’re thinking and feeling every second of every day. People post their whole fucking life story on Facebook, we literally watch people get together and breakup through online status’. We’re programmed to be so sensitive, and so open, that when someone isn’t that way, it’s wrong.” He looked over at his ex, an expression of defeat on his features. “I wasn’t programmed to talk about things. I was taught to keep it all to myself, and eventually it would go away.”

Tee

Tee felt bad about pushing him now that he heard what he had to say but at least he was no longer shouting about their imminent deaths so it worked in distracting him. Sort of. He was going to count it as a win. "I never said that it's wrong that you're not sensitive or open. But being told that I was only saying what I was because I was seeing you the way I see my clients...that was not fair because you know I was only trying to help you. You were going through a tough time, even though you never actually wanted to talk about it. Do you know what it feels like to be helping all these different people every day and being unable to help the person I care the most for in my life? It sucks. And to have a relationship go up in flames for the same reason is a tough pill to swallow."

Kami

Kam was starting to feel bad, which was really annoying, because he didn’t feel like he was the one who should feel bad. That was the most times he’d even thought of the word feel in his life. But seriously, what his ex boyfriend was saying, really set heavy on him. He never really considered how hard it must have been for Tee to not be able to help the one person he really wanted to. “I get that, and I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t such a basket case.” He muttered, and shoved a hand into his hair.

Tee

Getting an apology didn’t make Tee feel good like he thought. Instead he just felt bad for putting Kami in a position where he called himself a basket case. Tee set down with his back against the wall and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “You’re not a basket case”, he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re a bit...unusual, I’ll give you that. But it’s what made me fall for you in the first place so I consider it a good thing. I’m just so tired of people thinking I’m psychoanalysing them or something and acting like I don’t really care about them.”

Kami

Kam chanced a glance at his ex boyfriend when he mentioned that his uniqueness was what made him call for the cook in the first place. It made him blush a bit, because like, that was sweet, but he quickly changed his facial expression once he realized he was being too soft. It’s not like this was a special moment, was it? They were stuck on an elevator, and the whole “fall for you” thing was past tense. “Well, I’m tired of everyone trying to actually psychoanalyze me, and I guess it’s just a bigger trigger than I thought...”

Tee

Who would have thought that having a conversation that they should have had ages ago would actually calm Kami enough to stop panicking? Or at least he looked like he was doing a little better. He wasn't going to make the mistake of assuming his feelings ever again. "Couldn't we have talked about it then instead of getting so defensive every time I so much as try to help? I just wanted to help out someone I love - loved. Was that such a crime? I'm sure you would have done the same if it was the other way round."

Kami

Kam just sighed, exasperated from the situation, and so badly wishing those elevator doors would open, and they could be free of this personal little hell. Plus, it kind of hurt to hear how quickly Tee changed love to past tense. Not that it mattered...but yeah. Fuck. “Maybe I’m just not like other people, Tee. That’s my issue. I never act like anyone else things I should.”

Tee

They weren’t getting anywhere with this and Tee found himself wishing, not for the first time, that the elevator doors would open. The truth was that they were both too different and things between them were bound to end badly. He just wished it hadn’t taken them so long to come to that realisation. It would have spared the both of them a good deal of pain and hurt. “I already told you that you not being like other people; it’s what I like so much about you. But what I said never really mattered. At the end of the day you’ll think whatever you want to.” And there was nothing that Tee could do about it.

Kami

Kami only got more and more upset as the words continued out of his ex boyfriend’s mouth, stinging just the same way they did every other time he’d said something like that. “Fine. You win. I don’t wanna argue anymore.” Kam threw up his hands, and then like magic, the elevator door opened. It’s like the tattoo artist had to give in as the secret passcode to opening doors. Literally, he found himself looking around for a hidden camera, wondering how in the fuck timing managed to work out so well for them. He stood up, turning to look at the other male with lips pressed tightly together for a moment. “Well. It was good seeing you. Don’t be a stranger...” don’t be a stranger?? That was probably the last thing Tee was expecting to hear, but he didn’t give him a chance to say anything prior to Kam turning, and exiting the elevator before it could eat them again.

[annacalvi-no-more-words]

ANNA CALVI INTERVIEW: ‘Rock ‘n’ roll isn’t over – male rockers are’ - 12.08.2018

DAILY TELEGRAPH - Text By Neil McCormick - Photos by Rii Schroer

Five years after the 37-year-old British singer-songwriter’s second album of noirish art rock earned her a second successive Mercury Prize nomination, Anna Calvi is back with a third album.“I have long felt frustrated at the limitations of what a woman is allowed to be, on a very basic level,” says Calvi. 

“Perfect, smiling, accommodating. Why do I have to live up to these ideals because of my anatomy?” Fierce and sensual, timely in its grappling with gender stereotypes and female visibility, it is her most striking work to date. She called it Hunter, she tells me, because “I like the idea of a woman going into the world and just taking what she wants”.

The evening before we meet, Calvi is onstage in the West End nightclub Heaven, dressed in a black designer suit, wielding a red Stratocaster guitar, goading and provoking the audience.She sinks to her knees as she plays, then on to her back, abandoning herself to the strange sounds erupting from her instrument.Anna Calvi: ‘It just has to come out like this hurricane’

During a virtuoso rendition of gender-bending anthem Don’t Beat the Girl Out of My Boy, she releases an operatic wail that convulses her whole body. It is the mesmerising, powerful performance of a woman in her rock’n’roll element.

The next day, in the shabby south London offices of independent record company Domino, Calvi seems an entirely different creature: petite, demure and self-contained. Her speaking voice is high and soft. “I was very quiet as a child,” she says “and I really liked that the guitar could be my voice instead of me.” 

When I ask if her raucous performance style has helped banish her essential shyness, she laughs. “I’ve been waiting for years for that to happen,” she says. “But maybe that’s a good thing. Being introverted means that you have all this energy that’s building and building, like it’s a ball of fire and you don’t know how to release it. Then it just has to come out like this hurricane. For me, that is what being creative is.”

Calvi was obsessed with music from a very young age, yet struggled to identify any female role models. “If you are a woman wanting to find yourself in music, you have to project yourself on to the male story,” she says. “It’s the same for films, books, art, the same for any kind of culture. Women have been made invisible.” 

While writing her latest set of songs, Calvi imagined that her listener was her younger self, being confronted “with a more realistic depiction of the multifaceted woman, the animalistic, primal woman, the messy woman, the queer woman, the woman seeking pleasure without any shame.”

Calvi talks quietly but passionately, in long, carefully articulated sentences. She says that the period since her last album – One Breath, in 2013 – involved a lengthy process of self-examination. “So much of our gender is performed, I feel, it’s very limiting for both sexes,” she says. “As a woman, you’re made to feel your appearance is what you are. It’s what you look like [that counts] and not what you do.

 “And for men, to always be strong, to not be vulnerable or show emotions or talk about how you feel, is such an unrealistic expectation of a human being. It’s literally the opposite of what being human is.”

Calvi’s self-titled 2011 debut contained a track titled I’ll Be Your Man. Her new album opens with As a Man, in which she sings “If I was a man in all but my body/ Oh would I now understand you completely?/ If I was walking and talking as a man.”

“I never felt completely comfortable with being a girl,” she admits. “I found puberty really hard, having a woman’s body suddenly impose itself. As I grew up I came to accept it – I don’t feel trans – but at different times I feel more masculine or more feminine. My sense of identity is quite fluid. Maybe the answer is just not to have labels.”

Calvi was born in Twickenham, to an English mother and Italian father, both of whom are therapists. Her first instrument was violin, and she graduated in 2003 from the University of Southampton with a degree in music. Her inner rocker, though, had been unleashed years earlier when, at the age of eight, she saw footage of Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock, giving a performance that just “looked and sounded like freedom”. She also cites the Belgian-born jazz composer Django Reinhardt – “who taught me about arpeggios” – and West African music, “which taught me about sweet picking”. 

Anna Calvi: 'Maybe the answer is just not to have labels.’

Until recently, there have been few prominent female guitarists in popular music, something Calvi blames on cultural stereotypes. “I don’t think the guitar is a gendered instrument,” she says. “It’s like cooking – it’s about taste. It’s not like you need giant muscles to whip an egg.” Indeed, she goes so far as to propose that the future of rock will be female. “There is all this talk about the death of rock and the end of the guitar. What I think is dead is this kind of very one-toned thing of straight white men in bands singing about f—ing girls. “A lot of the guitarists making waves now are female and that may be partly because there isn’t a history of the female guitar hero, so there is something fresh that twists and subverts the story. I like to see women playing guitar. Courtney Barnett and St Vincent are doing really interesting things.”

 The real watershed moment will only come, she says, “when we don’t use the term ‘female artist’ anymore. Because women are a gender, they’re not a genre.”

In pop terms, Calvi was a late developer – she didn’t release a solo record until her 30s. She had “a phobia” about her voice and didn’t sing at all until her 20s when a fascination with Maria Callas helped her to develop a powerful, almost operatic, range. “Now, my guitar and my voice both speak for me, and on Hunter they are trying to express a sense of freedom and wildness and something visceral, this idea of breaking through any kind of restraint.”

At school, she wondered whether she was gay, but thought perhaps her feelings related to “having no boys around”. Then, at university in Southampton she had “a few boyfriends” followed by her “first experience with a woman”. It was a confusing time. “We were literally the only queer people that I had ever seen, just me and my partner in the whole college, that was it. I wish I could have experienced those feelings without questioning what it means. And worrying that it [was] wrong, and feeling shame, and dealing with all these external forces that aren’t actually to do with the relationship.” 

She has never hidden her sexuality but admits to “feeling nervous” before her first album came out. “I felt it was incredibly queer and I just didn’t want to be defined in that way. But to my surprise, no one seemed to pick up that all my songs were about women.” 

One Breath was written just as an eight-year relationship was coming to an end. “I was hiding behind the lyrics a little, I didn’t want to talk about our break-up, which isn’t really the best thing when you are trying to write songs. But this time I was like: have it all!”

 While working on Hunter, Calvi began a new relationship with a French woman, living in Paris and Strasbourg. (They are now in Clapham, south London.) “It was a new beginning, in all kinds of ways. After a really long relationship, you have to kind of rebuild yourself. The music came through that.”

The album is peppered with images of Eden and Paradise. “I was trying to find a way of being happy after a trauma,” says Calvi. “Eden represents the idea of utopian love.” She laughs, as if she finds this thought inherently ridiculous. “In a way, belief in love is belief in God. It’s very optimistic to imagine that somebody can save you from yourself, but we all believe it and I find that tragically beautiful, because I believe it too. When I see my girlfriend, just seeing her makes me feel more hopeful about things, but the truth is, everything gets worse and we die.”

Calvi’s best songs strike an unusual balance between opposing qualities, plucking something life-affirming out of cynicism, nihilism and fatalism. Those opposites are also evident in Calvi herself; so quiet and intense offstage, so wild and free onstage. 

“Maybe this is a bit fatalistic but I always think ‘if this is the last thing I ever do, the last record I ever make, the last performance I ever play, how do I want to go out? How do I want to leave it?’” she says. “There is a bit in Don’t Beat the Girl Out of My Boy that I have to sing very high and very loud and I can’t do that without completely surrendering myself, where there is absolutely no space left to think or be anything other than that note.

 “And that is what I want music to be. It is really liberating and exhausting. And a bit worrying. After I sang it the first time, I thought, ‘S—, now I have to do that every night. What will be left of my body and mind by the end of this?’”

[cuddlefish85]

Sins Of The Father Pt 2

Summary: 10 years after the night of your birth and the death of your mother an old family friend asks your grandfather for help. 

 Warnings: mention of animal death 

 Part 1 

Everybody won't be treated all the same

England- 10 years later

The Heartbridge Mansion stood amidst a forest of trees; it had been many years since anyone would call it grand but it was home for you and Lloyd.

 A few workers from the local village would come to the house through out the years but Lloyd's social circle was very limited.

There was only a few people who came to the house who had become important enough for you to get excited at their arrival. One being the Midwife or nanny as you had come to know her, she was strange and quirky and you loved her as though she was of your own flesh and blood.

And she was the only other one beside Lloyd who comforted you after your 'episodes'.

She would tell you stories of her own childhood and a few brief snippets of your grandmother and mother and on occasions when Lloyd was away for long periods of time, she would tell you of some of the monsters she help defeat beside Lloyd.

Skipping along the hallway you glance over the stone handrail; the main hallway was always cold and the one year Lloyd had placed a Christmas tree in the corner you had woken to find it nearly frozen over.

It was because of this you were surprised to find Lloyd standing as tall and stern as he always appeared, at six foot three some times he seemed like a giant. But he seemed to tower over the man in a dress suit more than usual. To you anyone over the age of sixteen were old people in your eyes.

But standing there Lloyd seemed to tower over the younger looking man and for a moment you felt pity for him but then you remember that Lloyd always told you that people would find a way to use your kindness against you.

“Sir” the younger man seemed to start but the cool glare from Lloyd made him rub the back of his neck and advert his eyes.

“You understand that The Coven don't answer to me; we work together” Lloyd stated and the man nodded eagerly before risking a look up at him then quickly away.

“It's just”

“S.H.I.E.L.D thinks that myself and The Coven deal with human monsters? We do not” Lloyd was firm and you watch amused as the younger man lowered his head and muffle you giggles when you see a twitch to Lloyd's shoulder.

“We believe he is called the winter solider” the man snapped his mouth shut when Lloyd's hand shot up.

“I've heard of him; I was also a solider in the second war world and I know what human monsters look like. Besides by now he has already completed his mission and will not be found again” and just like Lloyd was done with the conversation and you slipped down and moved closer to the stairs.

“Thank you for your time” Lloyd moved in a way that broke no argument, and the door slamming was your sign that you could come out. Besides being a stern man Lloyd was also very protective to the point that only a few people knew of your existence.

“(Y/N) really thought I taught you about eavesdropping” the stern face made your foot halt before coming down of the stone step, your head hung forward and your hair floating from the messy ponytail you had dragged up into that morning. You missed the small smirk that flicked across Lloyd's face when he saw the far too big NASA jumper and space skirt.

“It's rude and not lady like” your nose scrunched up as your eyes lifted to Lloyd's face, a small pout pulling your lip out.

“Very correct; please come here” Lloyd ordered as you trudge down the steps with heavy steps. You drag your feet when step off the last step and find your self standing in Lloyd's shadow. Using the toe of your brown boots poked at the floor while you refused to look up.

“(Y/N)!” the warning was clear and you quickly lifted your head and met Lloyd's eyes. Sighing you let your shoulders relaxed and you offer up a small smile.

“I didn't mean to... I was coming down stairs to go the green house. Nanny said I should keep check on the flowers” you quickly rush and Lloyd simply smiles at you. His hand ruffling you hair causing you to squeal and duck back.

“very well.... I guess this old man will forgive you” Lloyd admits gaining a full smile from you as you bounce on the balls of your feet.

“Nanny also promised to stop” you bite off because you agreed that maybe it was best to not tell Lloyd about the more intense 'episodes' you had been going through but by the way Lloyd stared at you and studied you, you might have let the cat out of the bag.

“Did she come back?” Lloyd demanded and you let out a sigh. Among the few people who knew of you existence there was one that you hated and loved.  

For many years you were convinced the voice you heard was an imaginary friend seeing as you rarely interacted with any other children.

But when you were six years old your 'friend' had told you she was more a sister than a friend and  you blacked out only to find Nanny humming to you while her Coven Sisters stood around you chanting and filling you with dread.

That was when you were gifted with your ring, a simply knotted silver ring with a gem that looked like the night sky had been captured and melted into the silver. It was only a few nights after that 'episode' when Lloyd took you to his study and showed you a picture of your mother and your father. What was weird was that you mother looked so alive while your father did not. In fact his skin looked so sunken and held a tint of grey that it frightened you and you cried in bed that night.

She was rarely spoken about, which annoyed you some times as she was there, always there but you feared that if you did speak about her then they would take her away from you.

“She just wants to play” you try to reason but Lloyd shook his head firmly and clenched his jaw so hard that you thought it should hurt him. The last time she wanted to play you had awoken to all the plants and few field mice that had sought warmth dead.

Her playing was dangerous.

“Nanny will fix your ring” Lloyd ordered causing you move your hand from his view and shook your head without noticing.

“She only wants to play.... please don't take her away” you plead feeling the tears swell on your bottom eyelid and threaten to slip over.

And before Lloyd could speak any further a loud and hollow knock sounded from the door and Lloyd glared at it as though it was the cause of all his ills.

You slip away from view to a hidden closet by the door; you knew each and everyone of the hiding spots through the house.

You miss the concern look Lloyd sent to you as he turned towards the door and settling his face in to that of almost stone he pulls the heavy oak door open.

“Before you slam the door in my face Lloyd at least hear me out” a familiar voice ordered and with out a second thought you rip your way out of the closet and sprint towards the door and the waiting woman.

A huff came from above your head as you wrap your small arms around the figures frame and the chuckle that follows warm you.

“Aunt Peggy” you breath against Peggy Carters stomach causing the older woman to laugh more warmly and wrap her arms around you.

“Is the old man being grumpy?” she question with a glint that caused you to laugh when you pull back to look up at her.

“Agent Carter now is really not the time” Lloyd ordered as you felt your head hang forward and your arms slip away from Peggy and hug around your stomach.

“Another Episode? It really can't be that bad Lloyd” Peggy questioned reaching for you and you easily went to her. She was the grandmother you wished you had and had on more than one occasions attempted to make Lloyd see how beautiful and wonderful Peggy was. But that had resulted in a talk about a man that Peggy loved a long time ago.

“I've been pushing her too hard in her training; Nanny will return and strengthen the ring and she will remain where she deserves to be” Lloyd snapped gaining a heavy sigh from Peggy.

You glanced from one to the other; you were so use to being spoken about while you stood between them.

“S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't deal with just monsters; human or otherwise” Peggy stated causing Lloyd to roll his eyes.

“Stark can barely reign in his own son; she is not becoming a science project nor will I'll allow that agent with one eye to use her as bait” Lloyd snapped his hand twitching to reach out for you.

“And me? You really think I would let anything bad happen to her?” Peggy sounded angry at the very thought that she would stand by and allow anything happen to you.

“You have your own family; neither one of us is young any more Peggy and I know you still look for him” the words made Peggy heave a sigh and hold you closer for a moment before smiling and pushing you towards the stairs.

“Darling girl why don't you go and play while I speak to the old man” with a wink Peggy smiled and then turned towards Lloyd, the smile falling. You glance to Lloyd who nods and you head with a heavy feet towards the kitchen and the door leading towards the greenhouse.

When you slipped into the kitchen you turned and watched the adults talking.

“She's strong but.... but I think the other one is getting stronger and I don't even think your S.H.I.E.L.D will stop her” Lloyd declared with a pain filled voice that for a moment you looked at him and knew that he was right.

But you simply assured your self that she just wanted to come out a play.

You shudder at the memory of the dead mice.

[thewhiterabbit42]

Birthday Games

Summary: You try to get Gabriel to play some drinking games for your birthday but things don’t go quite as expected.

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Word Count: 6696

Warnings/Tags: smut, swearing, drinking games, intoxication, stripping (Gabriel), oral sex (female receiving), fingering, grace kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, perfect body Gabe, a touch of possessive Gabe, fluff  

Author’s Note: Written for @bloodstained-porcelain-doll‘s #Challenge of Raven My prompts were:  “Loser does a striptease!”, Gabriel, and smut.  All tags are at the end.  

Special thanks to @sumara62​ who does such a fantastic job as my beta.

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

“How is this supposed to be celebrating again?” Gabriel asked.  

Sam and Dean had forgotten it was your birthday again, heading in the opposite direction to visit Garth rather than returning from their latest hunt to celebrate.  As unashamed as you were about your drinking habits, you drew the line at getting drunk by yourself.  Doing it with a bunch of strangers wasn’t appealing either, which left your options pretty limited until Gabriel happened to pop in to drop off some birthday cookies.  

It had been a pleasant surprise to say the least, and once he was there you weren’t about to let the opportunity go to waste.

“I like drinking games,” you reminded him, your words taking on the slow drawl you got right before you hit the tipping point between tipsy and completely hammered.

“Ok, princess,” sarcasm rippled through tonight’s nickname he’d bestowed upon you, all because you insisted on having fun your way, “But these are all boring.”

One hand came up, toying with the neon pink umbrella decorating his glass, but it was the other hand out of your sight that had you worried.  You could feel the hum of his energy rise behind you, fingertips drifting idly across the top of your chair, brushing you in the process.  

You were vaguely aware it probably wasn’t the best idea to ask an archangel to get drunk with you.  There was that whole piece about absolute beings probably needing to be in control of themselves for the sake of entire regions.  Yet, you had found the problem wasn’t so much him ripping accidental holes in time or space so much as he became a damn handsy drunk.  

“When do we get to the good ones?”  He stared at you a moment, brow quirking up as he gave you an odd look.  He’d been doing that a lot lately, too.  Like the touches, you brushed it off as his inebriated alter ego simply making an appearance.    

Considering these were the good games, however, you were at a loss how to respond.  It was hard enough to find some that worked with only two people, let alone ones that might keep someone like Gabriel entertained.  On a good day, he seemed only able to tolerate an hour or two of your “mundane” activities before either getting into mischief or disappearing entirely.  You had hoped to get him to stick around for a little longer than that, especially since without him, you were looking at a rather lonely evening.  

Keeping him around, however, was involving way more thinking and dodging than you had anticipated.  

You leaned forward onto your elbows casually moving out of his range.  You didn’t want to give him the chance to become too brazen, not when it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the flutter he brought to your stomach.  You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a solution, only to find yourself frustrated and in need of a refill.  

Maybe that was it.  Maybe you needed to be the one drinking and not the one trying to make the plans.

“Like?” You asked, tossing the ball back into his court as you slid your glass in front of him.  He ignored it for a moment and focused on making a show of looking thoughtful.  His lips pursed, eyes drifting upward as his fingers idly gave that umbrella another twirl.  

“Well, there’s pin the tail on the minotaur,” he began, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

There was what?

“But that one tends to get a bit messy since it's more about who still has the most limbs by the end,” he added.

Yeah, you liked your arms right where they were, thanks.  Your incredulity must have shown by the amused way he smirked.  

“Odds or evens might be a better choice,” he suggested and while that didn’t sound as life-threatening, the way his grin widened left you extremely wary.  “Though I’m not quite sure where we’d find a hydra these days…”

Was he messing with you?  He had to be.  There was no way those were real.  

“My personal favorite was seeing who could collect the most kisses from the wood nymphs.”  

Nope.  Definitely not joking by that twinkle in his eyes that spoke more of fond remembrance than mischief.  You were going to need a moment to process the fact that all these things actually existed.  

He must have sensed it by the way he pushed your now full glass back in front of you.  He used the motion as an excuse to subtly shift himself closer, arm draping across the back of your chair.  The air between you became a little more energized, your body hyperaware of his proximity in a way that had color splashing across cheeks.  Thankfully, it most likely had already melded with the flush created by the alcohol.

“Gabe, I’m human,” you reminded him before you took a long pull through the ridiculous bright, purple crown-shaped straw he insisted you use.  The flavor of your favorite drink danced over your tongue and while you could have been imagining it, it appeared the more you drank, the smoother they became.   

“That’s the beauty of nymphs, sugar.  You could be a centaur and they’d still put out, provided you played your cards right.”  He waggled his brows, mirth dancing across his lips as you nearly choked on your drink.  

Jesus, just how many things were out there you didn’t know about?

“Not my point,” you told him, deciding you really didn’t want to know.  Besides, you were a touch unnerved at having to remind him how far less durable you were considering how many times you relied on him for backup.  

“I’d love to avoid any accidental death or dismemberment tonight.”  Ever.  Not to mention the potential for interspecies STDs.  

“You’re just sore you have yet to win at anything yet,” he taunted, waving his finger dramatically in front of your face.  You grabbed for it, surprised when he wasn’t able to yank it away before you playfully pushed it back at him.  His elbow connected with his glass, sending the contents sloshing over the side onto the table.

“Party foul. Now you have to finish it,” you tsked.  He shrugged, pulling out the umbrella and giving it a toss before he smoothly downed the contents.  By the time he set it back down on the table, it was full again.  Before tonight, you hadn’t realized that his trademark snap was really just a courtesy, one he forgot increasingly about as his inebriated state progressed.    

“How much alcohol did you say was in one of those?” You inquired.

“Mmm, twenty-four of those,” he said, inclining his drink toward yours.  “Or was it forty-two?”  He shrugged, taking another sip.  “So, what are we playing now?”

“I was thinking --”

“Boooooooring,” he drawled, eyes rolling up to the ceiling.  

“But I didn't even --”

“Don’t need to, sugar plum, because drunk you?  Total projector,” he informed you, index finger swirling in circles in front of your forehead before he gave it a less than gentle tap that had your head bobbing backwards.  “Not only do I know what game you were about to say, I know the other three you had as backups, none of which are any better.”

Projecting? Did - did that mean --

“Yep,” he said, lips dramatically popping the p.  “The moment a thought hits your mind, I hear it.  Loudly, might I add, though that might also have to do with drunk me being a receiver.”

Great.  So drinking handed your thoughts a megaphone and gave him magical hearing aids.  

“Pretty much,” he confirmed.   

Well that took two truths and a lie right off the list.  

“Truth or dare could still be interesting,” he said, brows bouncing playfully.  He gave you a wicked look you didn’t trust.  Mostly because you knew anything carnal was an act, and more than likely would just drive you insane for his own amusement.

You missed the way something shifted in his gaze, too engrossed in your task of, yet again, finding something to play.  You grimaced.  What was even left?

“I’ve got something,” he said, features brightening.  “And in the spirit of having fun, let’s make the stakes a little more interesting.”

Before you could even ask, Gabriel had jumped up and was halfway out the door.  

“Loser does a striptease!” His voice echoed from down the hall.  

Wait, what?  Where had that come from?  More importantly, what were you --

Loud hissing from behind you had you rocketing out of your chair and spinning around.  Your eyes widened at what looked like… well you didn’t know what the hell it was other than a whole lot of nothing good.  It appeared to be half-snake, half-fish.  Prismatic scales adorned its lower body, though their beauty was overshadowed by how confusing the rest of it was.  It’s bottom tapered off into a slithering tail but it’s upper half was a combination of flaring gills, spiky dorsal fins, and, surprisingly enough, arms and hands equipped with opposable thumbs.  

What really had your attention was the deadly looking trident it held that was at least your height, if not larger.  

A loud whoop went off from somewhere across the bunker followed by a, “Got one!”

You didn’t even have time to figure out what one was before you were throwing yourself across the room in an attempt to avoid being skewered.  

It went for you again and you managed to dodge at the last moment.  The wall, however, remained pretty stationary and you watched as a large chunk of plaster crumbled beneath metal.

Shit.  Dean was going to kill you.  

“Gabriel!” You shouted, unsure if you were more angry at the moment or fearful, considering you hadn’t a single weapon within reach, and the beast was smart enough to have backed you into a corner and blocked your escape.

The fish-a-majig swung low, pulling your legs out from beneath you and sending you sprawling across the floor.  Oh fucking Chuck, this was it.  You were going out of this world on the date you came into it all because someone was a little bored.  

GabrielGabrielGabrielGabrielGabriel--

You flinched, hands raised defensively over your head, as sharp points speared down at your chest.  Instead of the lancing pain you expected, however, there was simply silence.  You lowered your arms, opening your eyes cautiously to find a familiar figure lounging in the doorway.  

Gabriel took a bite of a cookie, munching carelessly away as if you hadn’t just been moments away from death.

“What the hell was that?!” You demanded, sitting up so fast the world grew dark around the borders as blood rushed straight to your head.  

“An abyssal,” he said as if it were the most natural concept in the world.

You blinked, waiting for everything to come back into focus.  “A what?”

“You’re supposed to collect its scales,” he explained, exasperation flattening his tone. He pulled his other hand out from behind him to reveal three large scales nearly the size of his palm.  They were more striking than you originally thought;  waves of iridescence caught the light, reflecting back with different hues of blue that blurred to vivid violets.  You might have taken a moment to appreciate them if you weren’t so pissed about almost being turned into a shish-kabob.  

“Looks like I win again,” that condescending smile made an appearance, painting words triumphant to the point of nearly gloating.  “So, where do I get my show?”

You cocked a brow at him.  Yeah.  That wasn’t happening.  It was your damn birthday.  If anything, someone should be stripping for you.

Something sparked within honeyed hues, something that went beyond the run of the mill mischief and mayhem.  Your eyes widened when you remembered he could hear everything running through your mind.  

“Wait, I didn’t --”

Music suddenly filled the room and his brows gave a little flare.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.  He couldn’t - he was joking right?

“Gabriel, no,” you warned, waving a wholly stern finger at him.  To do what, you had no idea, you only knew you needed to show him how serious you were that this was not happening.  

His head tilted down slightly, lips curling up on one side as he gave you the look, the one that told you things weren’t about to go from bad to worse anymore because there was no scale to measure what he was about to do.  

“Gabriel, yes,” a sultry lilt entered his tone as his body began to sway to the beat.  

Jesus fucking Christ.  He wasn’t kidding.  

“Have a seat, sweetheart, show’s about to begin.”  He waved you away with his hand and as you lost your footing, you fully expected your ass to, once again, end up on top of hard tile.  What you dropped onto, however, was surprisingly soft.  You blinked, the kitchen suddenly replaced by darkness, furthering your confusion.  

Your hands roamed across the cool padded surface beneath you, trying to glean a hint of your location.  It wasn't until a myriad of colors flared to life from the ceiling, sensual reds, blues, and purples flooding the area that you realized just where he had taken you.

Oh merciful Chuck.  You were in your room.  On your bed.  And there was an archangel gearing up to give you a striptease less than five feet away.  

There was no lore book in existence that even touched what you were supposed to do in this situation.

“My advice?  Relax.  Who knows.  You might even enjoy it,”  He suggested with a wink.  

Panic flooded you at his response.  Shit.  Shit.  Not only was this happening but he was going to hear every single thought that crossed your mind during it.  You could probably live down his knowing you found him attractive, but the rest of what you felt?  That was liable to bury you.  

Maybe he was right.  Maybe you should enjoy the show, because if you were busy enough thinking about his body maybe it would drown out what he really meant to you.  

Like you stood a chance at thinking of anything else, anyway.

The music soared and you watched as Gabriel walked to the far wall, palm splaying flat above his head as he braced himself against it.  He began a slow, sensual roll that started in his hips before rippling upward through his torso and out his shoulders.  The lithe way his body moved had the air stilling in your lungs and it wasn’t long before your heart outpaced the steady tempo of the song.  

Part of you had hoped he might make a mockery of this, the way he did with just about everything, but as he cast a glance over his shoulder there was nothing but wickedness and a self-conceited smirk bordering on hubris.

That’s when you knew how much trouble you were really in.  

He didn’t even give you time to ease into it.  Oh no.  One more roll of his hips and he spun, his hands gripping the edge of his collar before ripping the buttons down the front of his shirt.  He strode forward and your bed gave a sudden lurch, dropping closer to the ground as he approached.  

He slipped his shirt down his back, showing off a set of well toned shoulders and arms that had the darks of your eyes widening as you realized this was the most skin you’d ever seen from him before.  He swung the article around, hooking it behind your back and using it to draw you closer before he repeated that smooth rolling motion.

Oh Chuck.  You weren’t going to make it.  You thought that of all things, Gabriel embodied chaos and mischief.  Right now, he was everything decadent from the sultry way he moved, to the way heat rolled off that perfect body, to the smell of him that was an unfamiliar and yet intoxicating combination, almost like --

I like sex and candy, yeah…

The lyrics edged in on the fringe of awareness and your eyes widened, the proverbial deer in headlights as you recognized exactly what that aroma was.  

Who’s that lounging in my chair…  

He grabbed the hem of his undershirt, drawing it up sensually along his stomach before ripping it over his head and he jumped up onto the bed, knees landing on either side of you.  

Oh sweet jesus, he had washboard abs.  And his chest - he all but had it pressed against your face.  This was completely and utterly unfair.  Of him for picking the vessel he had and tormenting you with it.  Of the universe for putting you in this position.  Of him being on a short list of untouchable beings, because why would an archangel ever be interested in you?

He reached forward, fingers caressing the side of your face before dipping beneath your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet him.  He held your stare intently, your mind slipping further from your grasp as you began to drift away in liquid amber.  

Who’s that casting devious stares in my direction

Mama this surely is a dream

He eased back off the bed, body pivoting until his back was to you before giving a slow, sensual roll of his hips. This was it.  You were going to combust.  Everything on him was all hard planes and lean angles front to back with no exceptions and you wondered what it would feel like to smooth your hands over all of it, to taste along all the dips and edges, to watch them dance beneath your fingertips as you tortured him with teeth and tongue before showing him exactly what your lips could do.  

You imagined it would be a divine moment right before your heart gave out.  

Correction, it was going to give out before then because the way his hands were moving he was definitely going for his pants. He looked back over his shoulder, leveling a devious smirk your way as as his thumbs hooked beneath the band of his jeans, sliding along the edge until they reached each side of his hips.  He bent slightly, ass jutting out as he teased denim down inch by agonizingly slow inch.  Heat soared through your entire system, splashing across cheeks in a furious red, though you suspected that flush continued straight down to your toes.

Oh shit.  Fuck.  If those came off it was game over.  There were sparks shooting off across your system as it was and you did not need those turning into fireworks.  Your hands gripped your thighs, your skin searing through your pants as you dug your fingers in hard.  You forced yourself to focus on your breaths, giving a slow count as you took in what little air was left in the room before giving a long exhale.

Sweet fucking Chuck!  How were you ever going to look at him after this?  

The answer was you weren’t.  If him dropping those pants didn't do you in the burgundy silk peeking out beneath them would.  All you could imagine was how sensuous that would feel beneath your touch, your fingers testing just how firm the rest of him was and perhaps helping him grow harder.  Would they whisper when they fell to the floor, you wondered, or would you be unable to resist seeing if they sounded any different than cotton when ripping?

As sanity and denim hung precariously in the balance, you suddenly knew, without a doubt, what you wanted for your birthday.

The music suddenly stopped.  At least it seemed sudden.  The song had probably come to its natural end, and you were too distracted to notice.  

The silence was deafening, heady, and time seemed to grow a little weighted, stretching out beneath your nervous anticipation of what happened now.  Gabriel stood there a moment, his shoulders rising and falling at an uneven pace before before he cast a sideways glance at you over his shoulder.  

Your stomach fluttered as he finally turned, those fine muscles returning to view and distracting you from the look on his face.  

“You look like you could use something to help cool you down.”  A glass appeared in his hand and he held it up for you.  You were too busy trying not to stare at the way his pants were still open, giving you a good eyeful of how his hips had that ‘v’ that drove you insane.  

You dragged your eyes to the glass, unable to meet his gaze as you accepted it.  It was one thing for him to know what he was doing to you and another to have to acknowledge it to him.  

The weight in your hand was grounding as was the change in temperature from your thigh.  You looked forward to quenching the dryness in your mouth only to find his fingers dipped inside before you could even take a sip.  Confusion broke through your hazy mind as he plucked something out, holding it up for your inspection.  It wasn't until you glanced up at the piece of ice caught between his fingers that you caught sight of how heated hazel had grown.

Oh.  Oh.  Oh Chuck.  How had that happened?

That fire in his gaze headed straight between your legs and you shifted, half pressing your knees together, half adjusting your panties, their dampness causing them to cling to you.  Amber had you pinned in place, and you were unable to say or do anything as he brought the chip against the flush on your neck.

Your breath hitched as cold collided with your skin, caressing down along your pulse.  Goosebumps raced in its wake, your stomach fluttering as your mind struggled to keep up with the fact this was actually happening as that cube continued slipping down, down, down…

That chill-kissed touch whispered even lower still, slipping over the hint of swells peeking out from beneath your shirt.  Your nipples hardened, straining against their trappings as moisture trickled slowly down between your breasts.  When the ice fully melted, his fingers continued, smearing a warm trail of wetness up along the edge of your collarbone before finally drifting away.  

You weren’t sure where your breath had gone, the air around you consumed by the blaze that had gold melting to malleable metal which mirrored a want as great as your own.  

“Better?” His voice was as smooth and sensuous as silk, and you suddenly found he’d claimed yet another of your senses.  

You couldn’t tell what had you more intoxicated, the alcohol or him but the rush you had from both was so heady it was dizzying.  Emboldened hands reached out, your fingers slipping through his belt loops where they gave a playful tug.  His brows raised, glancing down at the pants now pooled around his feet before looking back up to you.

“Now it is,” you purred, slyly looking up through your lashes.  His grin became so cat-like it was fitting, considering the rabbit hole you were both about to tumble down.  He took the glass from your hand, tossing it over his shoulder and you couldn’t help but smile back.  

You dragged yourself back by your elbows, almost stumbling in your rush to get started.  His movements, on the other hand, were deliberate, the slow crawl toward you reminding you of how a lion stalked its prey.  He was proud, graceful, and the look in his eyes was positively predatory.  It was a vivid reminder of what he truly was and that little whisper of danger that was woven into his presence had a thrill racing down your spine.

“You like dangerous things?” He murmured, moving up the length of your body until he hovered directly over you.  The tension between you stretched tauter before finally snapping, exploding in a shockwave of electricity that skittered across your skin.

“Because I am dangerous,” he warned, face dipping closer until you felt the warmth of his breath curling over your lips.  “I give people what they deserve,” his lips fluttered briefly over yours, ghosting down along your jaw until they grazed along the edge of your ear.  “And after all the wicked things you made me listen to, you, my dear, deserve to be fucked.”

The sparks that ricocheted from his words had wildfires igniting beneath your skin.  You couldn’t wait any longer, fingers carding through his hair, desperate tips dragging his mouth to yours and down to claim him.  He took a moment to get a feel for you, allowing you to take the initial lead, but it wasn’t long before he was wresting control back from you, tongue sliding insistently along the seam of your mouth before diving inside.  

He tasted exactly as you imagined, like lingering sweets and divinity, your own little piece of heaven dusted with sugar and it was yours for the taking.  You weren't in the mood to savor it, however.  Not with the need building beneath your fingertips as they glided over his bare skin.  

You couldn't get enough of the feel of him, of the way muscles tightened beneath your touch, at how the simple caresses seemed to spur him on.  

You needed more, fingers digging insistently into his hips as you drew them against you.  Another shockwave echoed through your stomach at the hardness he rubbed against you.  You dipped the tips of your fingers beneath the edge of silk, hands splaying across his lower back before sliding fully under to grab him.  

Sweet Jesus even his ass was nice and firm.  

“Like that?”  He murmured, pride touching lips in a smile that ghosted along your neck.  

What you’d really like was to level the playing field because you were far too overdressed for the occasion.  

He snapped and that dissonance of fire and ice washed over you again as you suddenly found yourself in only your undergarments.  He drew back, gold gleaming as he drank in the sight of you.  

“I can’t help but feel like it’s my birthday now,” he said with an appreciative hum.

The blush that crept across your face had nothing to do with your yearning.  Shyness overlaid desire as you worried your lower lip, and suddenly the look on his face morphed into something warmer but equally as pleasing.  His head dipped down, teeth relieving yours of your lower lip and the way he nibbled had your appreciation catching in your throat.  

He didn’t linger long, mouth leaving to blaze a trail down your neck.  Lips and tongue licked and lavished as tips of fingers took their own journey, learning every sensitive spot there was to find as he explored every inch of newfound skin.   Your head fell back against the bed and closing your eyes you became lost in his ministrations.  

When his hands finally found your breasts, your entire body gave a tremor, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive nubs straining through thin fabric.  You moaned, the pleasure rippling through you at such a simple touch and it wasn't going to take much before fireworks would be making an appearance.  

His palms smoothed over soft swells before drifting higher, gliding straps down from your shoulders before dipping behind your back.  Deft fingers made quick work unhooking it as you simultaneously slipped yourself free.  He sent the article soaring over his shoulder as his mouth eagerly moved to take its place.  Hands reached back up to cup you together, his lips and tongue alternating between pebbled peaks.  

You couldn’t think straight anymore, vaguely aware of the mewling noises you were making, one hand fisting through the sheets as the other kept a firm grip over his hair.  You were too busy steadily climbing, your hips rocking against his in an attempt to gain some friction.  

One of his hands released you, skimming down the length of you sending heated goosebumps blossoming in its wake.  He raised up, a knee nudging between yours and you eagerly spread your legs for him.  Fingers found their way to your thigh, drifting closer and closer to where you needed to be touched, matching your ascent up that blissful peak.  You shuddered as his knuckle finally edged over your panties, pushing it through thin fabric between your folds before dragging it higher.  

“So wet for me already.”  The praise in his tone nearly had you careening over that edge, but it was his thumb that gave you the final push you needed.  It grazed over that sensitive bundle of nerves, a hum of energy reaching what he couldn't through your clothing.  The gentle burst he released had your body singing in a rush of euphoria so sweet it felt as if you were lifting straight off the mattress.

It took you a few moments to come back down, your eyes blinking lazily as the world remained a little fuzzy around the edges.  

“Happy birthday,” he murmured, mouth lazily moving along your inner thigh, tongue dipping along the indent where it joined your hips before moving to the other side.  “What other gifts does the birthday girl desire?”

As his mouth neared your sex again he snapped his fingers, the confines of your underwear suddenly disappearing.

“Perhaps something down here could use a little more attention?”  His mouth moved over your mound, tongue dipping down one side of your folds, and you shuddered as he arced back up before running down the other side.  You couldn’t believe this was happening.  You were still coming down from one orgasm when he was eager to get you started on another.  

This was turning out to be one of the best birthday’s ever.  

Heat began to gather again, pooling in your core as his tongue grazed over your entrance, lapping gently at the juices gathering there.  Your head sank back against the mattress and it was everything you could do to keep your hips from bucking against his gentle ministrations.  He was teasing you, that tantalizing tongue dancing in and out of you, exploring every fold and crease until your breath turned to ragged gasps and you were almost shaking with the need for him to do something other than just taste you.  

Finally he glided higher, your anticipating peaking as he slowly made his way to that sensitive spot craving his attention.  Electricity arced through your body as he circled your clit, dragging a low, satisfying moan from your mouth.  His tongue changed up its movements, pressure softening and increasing until there was a combination that had your whimpers growing to a keen and you felt yourself melting away stroke by blissful stroke.  

You gasped as he slipped a finger inside you, easing it in and out.  A second finger soon joined and they curled, tapping against that wonderful spot inside you and causing that band of desire to tighten further.  

“Fuck, Gabe,” you panted, wanting more of him, against you, inside of you.  “Need you.”

From the groan that rumbled through him you would have thought you were the one going down on him. Gold flashed up, glimmering so intensely they positively glowed.

“Say it again,” his voice was rough with a want that bordered on pleading.  His tongue returned at a more insistent pace.  

“Need you,” your last word rose with question, a little caught off guard.

He grunted, head shaking.

“Gabe,” you realized.  He moaned his approval, the vibration carrying straight from his lips onto yours and causing your hips to buck against him.  It had been a slip of the tongue, the nickname leaping to life effortlessly despite the fact that you’d never used it before.  Knowing what it did to him, you couldn’t help but say it again, loving the way it spurred on his excitement.  

“Oh fuck, Gabe…” You grabbed the back of his head, pressing him closer to you as his tongue picked up tempo.  The heat between your legs intensified, coiling round and round inside of you.  Your toes curled, body giving a stretch as it reached yet again for that dizzying peak of pleasure.  His name became the cadence to a beat you had no control over as you climaxed again, the freefall you entered so consuming it had your body succumbing to a dizzying rush that had your eyes slipping shut.

They were still closed when his lips fell over yours, giving you heated, open-mouth kisses.  The taste of you on his tongue was heady as was the feeling of his tip rubbing along your entrance.  There was an almost wild need as he pushed into you, his mouth muffling your moans as hips gave a few sharp thrusts before he had buried himself to the hilt.  The sudden stretch of your walls was as surprising as it was splendid, and you weren’t certain you had ever felt this full.

You could tell he was trying to give you time to adjust, his rocks starting gently.  As his mouth left yours to move down, however, you couldn’t help but say his name again.  You felt too good not to, and the moment that button was pushed his last bit of resolve crumbled.  

His thrusts turned hard, needy, and the way he roughly dragged himself across your walls had your nails raking across his back.  You didn’t think you could get any more drunk this evening, but you were and it was solely on him and the sudden switch from attentive to demanding.  

It was exhilarating, the rawness with which he moved, the way his hands roamed over your body, like there wasn’t enough of you for him to touch and never could be.  His palms settled on your breasts, grip possessive, as those honeyed depths flared bright with dominance in a way that clearly roared mine.  

That look alone had lightning striking your center, splintering into a collection of electrical currents that skittered across your nerve endings.  It wasn’t just the thrilling feeling of danger, though.  As his lips came down at your pulse, the teeth that tugged were sharper as they left their mark, but the lap of his tongue that followed was soothing; an echo of tender thought that reflected in his gaze.  It was hard to spot, but it was there, so tightly woven with the more primal aspects of his being, you had no doubt it was just as much a part of him.  

Without thinking you reached up, cupping his cheek and as you held his stare it was by far the most intimate thing you had ever done with him.  His tempo diminished, that burning brightness retreating and for a moment you worried you had done something wrong.  He leaned down, mouth capturing yours in a few careful, almost fragile kisses before he rested his forehead against yours.  

“You feel amazing,” he breathed, eyes slipping shut as he seemed to be savoring the slow and sensual way he now moved inside you.  “You’re so father damn amazing I don’t -- I don’t deserve this.”  

The confession that tumbled from his lips had your world lurching to a halt and it was all you could do to hang on to him to prevent yourself from being thrown clear off it.  You drew him flush against you, his warmth and sweat mingling with yours as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You had to will your heart to restart again as the realization sank in that he felt the same.

Your hand trailed up his spine, landing at the curls at the nape of his neck; you gave them a few tender strokes before whispering, “You deserve this…” You paused, allowing him time to take in your words before you reminded, “And I believe I deserve to be fucked.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest and his teeth nipped playfully at your ear.  “As you wish, princess.”

He raised up, sitting back on his haunches as his hands smoothed over the tops of your thighs before grabbing you from behind the knees.  He brought them to his shoulders, tentatively easing himself in and out as he tested the new position.

“Ready?”  His brow raised, that glow returning to gold and, along with your anticipation, it stole your breath

You wriggled your hips.  “Been ready.”

He drew back, slamming into you full force, sending you sliding precariously close to the headboard.  Your cry was as sharp as it was loud, and you were very thankful for your friends’ absence this evening since they would have undoubtedly missed the pleasure in it and really rounded out the definition of surprise for all of you.  Gabriel, however, didn’t miss a thing, eyes flashing with pride as he repeated the movement, earning another loud, encouraging sound.  

He picked up the pace, hips rocking with such force the entire bed began to move.  Your headboard began to thump against the wall, and you reached up, holding onto the wooden bars to steady it and you.  As your collective moans mingled with creaking of wood you couldn’t imagine anything feeling any better than this.  

A warm tingle ghosted over your shoulders, cascading across your breasts in an unexpected rush that had your eyes growing wide.  It covered the entire length of your torso before forking, one current sweeping upwards and smoothing over your chest as the other dipped between your legs to circle your clit.  Your body arched, the combination of sensations electrifying and sending jolts of heated pleasure straight through you.  

“Fu - fu-uck, what --” your mind fumbled to connect itself with your mouth.

“Welcome to sex with an angel, sweetheart,” he panted and his magic intensified until your whole being was blissfully buzzing.  It was almost too much, pushing you to the edge of a precipice higher than you’d ever been.  

You didn’t know what was even coming out of your mouth anymore, only that culminated in a fevered shout of his name as your walls began to shudder around him.  Everything blinked out of existence save him, your body singing in a symphony of sweet notes as you clenched tightly around him.  His hips stuttered in response, a growl rising from his chest as he gave a few final thrusts, before burying himself as deep as he could go.  His weight fell forward as he pulsed within you, and you let down your legs so that he could fold on top of you.  

For a few seconds, the only sound was of your ragged breaths as you both came down from your highs.  You couldn’t see him, his face buried in the crook of your neck, your hair fluttering from his pants.  Your hand came up, idly stroking the back of his head.  

That might have been the best birthday gift you’d ever received.

He pulled out of you, the sudden loss almost making you ache as he rolled onto his side.  He remained pressed against you, however, as he propped his head up on an elbow.  He smiled widely, and you could almost taste his pride as it swelled through the air as his gaze drifted down the length of you.  

“What’s that look for?” You asked, shyness creeping in beneath his lingering stare.  

“Just admiring my work,” he said, smugness soaring.  “And I’d say it was a job well done considering how ravished you look.”

You rolled toward him, hand splaying against his chest.  His heart still beat a little fast, his breaths still a little uneven.  By the flush and sweat across his skin and the way his hair was mussed, you’d say you’d done a pretty good job yourself.

He reached out, fingers tucking errant strands behind your ears before following the line of your jaw.  They hooked beneath your chin, gently grasping as he gave you a lingering look.

“You’re still the birthday princess for another hour,” he murmured, pausing to give you a few slow, lazy kisses.  “Is there anything else you’d like or should we call it a night?”

You leaned back, eyes roaming over all those edges and dips along that divine body of his.  Suddenly you had an idea.

“You ever heard of the game ‘Hide the Honey’?” You asked, giving him a wicked smile.

Everything tags: @girl-next-door-writes @wayward-mirage @fand0maniac, @feelmyroarrrr, @omgreganlove, @jannalionheart, @baritonechick

Gabe Squad: @theblackenedsky, @pepperwoodatnight, @lacqueluster

Open to tags:  @lucifer-in-leather

[forfearofwolves-blog]

Eazy-O

[All dialogue is in Greek, but written in English for reader’s convenience.] The water rocks the boat gently. It’s like a soothing lullaby, the underlying melody in this nightmare. 1962, Oia, Greece. “Put your head down, knees to your chest, and don’t look out the windows. If you have to use the bathroom, there’s buckets by your cots.” Stomach churning, head spinning. Twelve year old Ezio did as he was told. It was the same routine the past five years, only this time there were new faces. Younger faces. They looked mortified, with reason. He may have been the only one there void of emotions. No expression. No feelings left inside anymore. He’d been used over and over again, this was nothing foreign to him, but the fact that the youngest boy here had to be at least six years old sickened him. The man who had given them direction on where to use the bathroom paced back and forth down the wooden floors of the lower deck of the ship, dark eyes skimming over each and every one of them. His black hair was greasy, a green hat pushing down on it, and Ezio swore he never smiled. Taken from his life. His family. Given away by his own father, and for what? Money. Money made the world go ‘round, and his father needed a lot of it. Even as his mother screamed and begged for Alfio Lazarus not to give Ezio away, he handed his baby boy over like it was nothing. Sold him. He blinked in the dimness of the room, hearing the whimpers around him. The boy next to him was particularly loud, and he knew if he didn’t do something he wouldn’t be able to sleep. “Hey,” He said, placing a hand on the kid’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “what’s your name? How old are you?” The cherub face gazed upon Ezio, tears filling them, lip trembling. “M...my name is Alex,” He said, body shaking violently, “I’m….I’m five.” Jesus. Five. Did they really have a limit on the age of the boys they stole away? Probably not. “Hi Alex,” Ezio said, turning his body towards the boy a little, offering a kind smile, “I’m Ezio. Ezio Lazarus. I’m twelve. I’ve been doing this for five years and I promise you it gets better.” A flat out lie. How could this nightmare get better? The boy scooted closer, catching him off guard as he buried his little head into his chest. “I want to see my mommy.” Alex said, sniffling, “Why did they take me away from my mommy?” He had no answers. He never did. Never would. What was he supposed to tell him? Some really bad men who like to hurt children took us away from our life. Took us away from everything we know. We’re never seeing our mother’s again. 1964, Vlora, Albania. “Kick the ball, Eazy-O!” Green eyes fell upon the dirty ball that rolled to him, hitting his feet. He stared for a moment, before turning his attention to the small, malnourished boy running towards him. “Alex,” He said, laying his pen down upon his notebook, setting it on the log he was sitting on, “I told you I didn’t want to play.” Alex poked his bottom lip out, dark, messy hair falling over his big brown eyes. He was good at that, good at playing little brother, and ever since he’d met Ezio on that ship two years ago he’d been stuck to his side like glue. “Come on!” He exclaimed, prodding the ball towards him, “you’ve been writing poetry the past couple hours. Come play with me.” Ezio stared for a moment, looking back and forth between the seven-year-old and the ball. “Fine.” He said, rolling his eyes and picking it up, “but only for a little bit. I’d like to finish what I was writing.” Alex looked so excited. How could he say no to that? This was their little paradise. Their time away from the monsters. Whatever he could do to keep the boy’s mind off of everything… he’d would… 1965, Tirana, Albania. “You’ve been bought for the day, Alex. You’re doing so well.” Straight lines. They always stood in straight lines. Hands at their sides as potential clients looked at them from behind glass, like they were zoo animals. At the mention of him being bought out like a cheap prostitute, Alex whimpered and narrowed his eyes to Ezio. He’d successfully avoided this nightmare with the help of the older boy, who took so many bullets for him, but now… “I’ll go instead.” Ezio said, stepping forward, “he’s not going anywhere.” The man in the green hat scowled at him, appalled that he even had the nerve to speak up. “No,” He said, grabbing Alex’s hand roughly, “they don’t want you. You’re too old. They want him.” As the monster began to drag the little boy away, Ezio broke from the line to go after him, but was quickly yanked back by another uniformed asshole. “Let me go!” He said, squirming against him, “no! You bastards, leave him alone! He’s just a little boy!” He could see it, even as Alex was dragged away. The pleading look in his eyes, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he begged for Ezio to help him. To save him. When he couldn’t. He couldn’t even save himself. 1967, San Diego, California. “When I’m older,” Alex said from the bottom bunk, fingers grazing against the wood, “I’m gonna get married. Have kids. Leave this life behind me. What about you, Ezio?” The older male lay in his cot, arms folded over his chest as he listened to the unrealistic dreams of the child below him. Alex had made it to ten-years-old, and he himself was surprised he’d made it to seventeen. “Me?” He finally answered in the darkness, over the snores of the other boys, “I’m gonna have kids too. Meet the love of my life. Become a cop so I can bust every sex-trafficking ring in the entire world. I’ll free everyone like us. Every prisoner” There was silence. Alex stopped drawing shapes into the bed beneath them. “I like that.” He finally said. “I can’t wait, Eazy-O.” The next day Ezio sat alone in the dingy room where they ate their meals. Their small, unfilling meals. Alex had been taken off again, someone bought his time. He’d been one of the most popular ones there, and with Ezio being older now, he had not. The silence of the day, however, was disrupted by a scream from the other room. “NO! EZIO! HELP ME!” Within seconds the older boy shot from his chair, breaking past the guards, running down the hallway towards the sounds of Alex screaming for him. Screaming over and over. He couldn’t run fast enough. Suddenly it stopped. He kicked in the door to the room his little friend had been in, eyes widening in horror at the sight before him. An older man lay in a pool of blood on the floor, a trembling, crying Alex hovering over him, bloody knife in his hand. “He was hurting me…” He sobbed, dropping the weapon and running to Ezio, arms wrapping around him, “he wouldn’t stop…” God no. What have you done? Before he could even comfort the boy, the one he’d been protecting for the past five years, the guards burst through the door and ripped him away, dragging the screaming child from the room. Ezio quickly followed after, begging, pleading. “Please,” He said, watching as they pushed Alex to his knees, “please, he didn’t mean to! The man was hurting him!” He knew it was useless. Knew that nothing he said would change the fate of his friend. Absolutely nothing. Alex looked up at him with those big brown eyes, terrified, but in that moment it was obvious… He knew Ezio couldn’t save him anymore. “Thank you,” The boy said as the barrel of a gun was pressed to the back of his head, “thank you for the past five years. Thank you for being my friend.” The sound. It was so loud. The sound of the gun going off. The feeling of warm blood and brains splattering against his skin. Ezio knew he was screaming, but the ringing in his ears was drowning it out… he didn’t even hear the front door being broken down. He didn’t hear the police swarming in, firing at the bad men who’d kept them prisoner for so long. He fell to the floor, pulling Alex’s lifeless body into his arms, cradling the boy. He’d failed him. “Hey hey hey! You’re safe now. You have to come with me. We won’t leave your friend behind, I promise.” The voice was so comforting. So soothing. His green eyes fell upon the source, the face of a kind looking woman in a special police uniform. She pulled Ezio into her arms as he reached for Alex’s corpse, pulling him out into the sunlight. “No no no!” He cried, vision blurred from tears, “I didn’t protect him. I should have protected him. You were too late!” Anger. Confusion. Grief. It all consumed him. All of it. Had they only been there a few seconds earlier, Alex would still be alive. He was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. He had so much life left to live. So much. 1971, Bostons, Massachusetts. “Happy birthday, Alex.” Ezio’s back pressed against the cold tombstone, the one he’d visited every single day for the past four years. Four years and Alex’s death still hit him pretty hard. The little boy would have been fourteen today, but he didn’t get to enjoy his life. Ever. Eyes fell upon the smooth surface of the grave, fingers trailing along the words engraved into it. Alexander Dimitriou Galanos, 1957-1967. ‘Forever young in heaven’s sunlight.’ Everything Ezio had went into making sure this boy had a proper burial. Went into Alex having a name, a history, all of that. In the time after his death, he’d sought out his parents to inform her, but they’d both been killed by the people who had taken the little boy. So it was up to him. Up to him that he was humanized, after so many years of being treated so poorly. “This is for you,” He said, holding up the bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand, dumping a little into the dirt, “since you won’t ever be able to live out your dreams, I’ll live them out for you. I promise.” The amber liquid soaked into the ground, rain beginning to fall heavy on him. In his hand he clutched the picture they’d taken years before, just he and Alex. Written on the white space beneath it, it read, ‘The best poetry in life is not what you write, but the memories you make.’ He didn’t regret meeting that boy, but Alex would want him to start over. To live his life. Here he was, free, while the other boy was dead, and survivors guilt filled him. A new beginning felt so empty, but it was all he had now. Goodbye Alex, can’t wait to see you on the other side.