#so forgive me for smashing the two together here

[nerdanel01]

Exquisite, Pt. II

Emmrich/Rook, teensy bit of Lucanis/Rook if you really squint 2k+ wc | SFW [Pt. I Here]

Emmrich had never considered himself to be a jealous man. He did not covet what others possessed, content with his lot and labors; envy had never come naturally to him.

And yet there he sat in the common room of the Lighthouse, seated in the chair with the clearest, unobstructed view of the kitchen, watching Agnes watch the Crow. 

It had been several weeks since he had left Nevarra behind, and the Mourn Watch with it. Weeks of Agnes being short and clipped with him, or outright ignoring him entirely. Try as he might to thaw the chill between them, nothing—not praise, nor flattery, nor thoughtful gestures—seemed to appease her. Any and all attempts he had made to spend time with her, or converse with her since they had returned to the Lighthouse together had failed, many of those efforts ending quite disastrously. Manfred, through the power of his sense of humor alone, had managed to develop a friendly rapport with her—but as for Emmrich, he suspected that Agnes would barely give him the time of day, if he asked. 

That on its own might have been tolerable; after all, given their cataclysmic falling out and the two year separation that had followed Agnes’ flight from the Mourn Watch, Emmrich had thought he would never see Agnes again in this life. Even if she hated him, at least now he had been blessed with the possibility (however remote) of repairing the rift between them. He did not think it would be easy, but he was glad to have the opportunity to try. 

But in the Mourn Watch, Agnes had always been closest to him— even during the period when Rolf Magnusson had been courting her. Emmrich had been her dearest companion, her confidant; he had become accustomed to that familiar place of privilege within her heart. No longer did she cherish him there. And unlike in the Mourn Watch, where she had made little effort at making other friends of her own, the comfort and ease and warmth with which she bore herself around the members of the Veilguard struck a startling contrast to the way she behaved around him. Watching her collaborate with Lace on their next moves, the fascination with which she listened to Bellara speak about her discoveries in Arlathan forest, all while she would hardly spare a glance for Emmrich himself… well. That stung, a little. 

The way she laughed and smiled and practically fawned over Lucanis… that more than stung, it smoldered painfully in his chest. 

Of course, there was no indication her relationship with him had gone beyond the bounds of friendship. But, Emmrich thought to himself—why wouldn’t it? She was lovely, cunning, capable; no doubt Lucanis saw that for himself just as well as Emmrich did. And he was possessed of that dark, enigmatic, Antivan charm—even across the room Emmrich fancied that he could practically hear Agnes’ heart palpitating every time Lucanis spoke in his native tongue, the same language of the operas Agnes had so loved. 

As if he were not sufficiently well-endowed with charm and allure: he was an excellent cook. 

Though Lucanis’ definition of ‘cooking’ clearly did not measure up to Agnes’. Three nights ago he had prepared dinner for the group. The pungent, mouth-watering smells of garlic and cheese had filled the Lighthouse, lulling everyone into a state of anticipation and rapture before the meal had even begun. But when at last it had been served, Agnes had just paused for a moment, looking at her plate, broken hearted. 

“Something the matter, Rook?” Lucanis has asked her, coolly. 

Agnes had opened her mouth, thought better off it, closed her mouth, and shook her head, no. It was not in the least bit convincing. Then she had picked up her fork, but before she had even touched it to her plate, she had dropped it back to the table, unable to hold her silence any longer. 

“How could you do this?” she had asked, sounding crushed. 

“Do what?”

And she had lifted her plate, tilting it towards Lucanis like an accusation. “You spent hours on this, and it must be incredible—it smells incredible, smells beautiful—only to just drop it onto the plate like slop for swine.”

Emmrich had to repress a grin. She was not wrong. But unlike Agnes, Emmrich had not expected the Nevarran custom of cooking—where food was as much a feast for the eyes as it was for the palate—to have held much sway in Antiva. 

The amusement and irritation were both plain in Neve’s tone when she interjected, “Fasta vass, Rook, you’re worried about what it looks like? It’s going to taste just the same.”

“It tastes heavenly,” Bellara added supportively, already twirling more of the pasta onto her fork. “Thanks, Lucanis.”

“It deserves better,” Agnes had muttered, half under her breath. 

“Fine,” Lucanis answered her, with an unbothered shrug. “If it bothers you so much, you can serve the meal next time I cook, jefa.”

By his tone, Emmrich gathered that the comment had been intended as a dig. But Agnes has only stood to reach across the table, extending her hand to Lucanis to shake on it. “Deal.”

And so now, there they were: Lucanis kneading eggs into flour for another fresh batch of pasta, with Agnes hovering around the kitchen island beside him, all questions and insatiable curiosity. Encouraged by her enthusiasm, Lucanis was teaching her how to form the dough into different pasta shapes: 

“And then you pinch here in the center, to make farfalle—”

“Oh!” Agnes exclaimed in delight. “Like little butterflies.”

Lucanis smiled at her, shrugged. “I always thought they looked more like bow ties, myself. Then there’s the conchiglie—shells—you just give the dough a little roll with your fingers, like that…”

“Can I try?”

… and despite his most valiant effort, Emmrich could not repress the slight twitch of his upper lip as he watched Agnes sidle closer, Lucanis peering instructively over her shoulder as her fingers worked the dough. 

Years ago, when she had left—when Agnes had fled the Mourn Watch and left him behind—Emmrich had hoped for her to be happy, to be loved in whatever life she built for herself after leaving Nevarra. 

Of course, when he had made that secret prayer, he had not expected to be present for it—to be forced to endure the exquisite torture of watching it happen before his very eyes. 

Yet there it was: Agnes’ eyes a little too keen for Emmrich’s liking as she watched Lucanis’ hands knead the dough into shapes, taking in the thickness of his scar-covered fingers, covered in handsome dark hairs—

“Emmrich! What’s that around your neck?”

Bellara’s voice startled him out of his forlorn musings. He blinked, then looked down, and lo—the delicate gold chain had slipped between the buttons of his shirt, the lazurite ring that hung upon it swinging like a pendulum. 

Hastily, he tucked it back beneath the fabric. “Oh, it’s nothing really.”

“It’s not nothing!” Bellara replied. “It is a very old and very pretty something, from the little peek I got of it. What is it? A family heirloom?”

It was nothing of the sort. But Emmrich did it feel inclined to explain exactly what it was, especially under present circumstances, and in present company. 

But, “Just show her, Volkarin,” Taash insisted. “She won’t give it up until you do.” The boredom in the treasure hunter’s voice did little to conceal the eagerness in her eyes; like Emmrich himself, Taash had a weakness for shiny things, and her own curiosity had been piqued. Across the table, even Davrin had glanced up from his carving to see what all the fuss was about. 

Emmrich felt himself beginning to sweat under his collar. 

Under the pretense of removing the chain, he unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. Then, under Bellara’s eager gaze, he pulled the necklace out from beneath his shirt, cupping the heavy ring in his palm. 

“It is not an heirloom,” Emmrich said, as Bellara stood up to join him on the sofa for a better glimpse at it. “It was a gift.”

“Oh, wow, Emmrich, it’s gorgeous! Taash, come look!” Bellara enthused, beckoning the Lord of Fortune nearer before she turned back to the ring in Emmrich’s hand. It was truly a thing of beauty—the brilliant lazurite carved into the perfect facsimile of a scarab beetle, the aged patina on the gold lotus flowers of the setting only adding to its authenticity and charm. “But why aren’t you wearing it on your hand?” Bellara asked, all innocent curiosity. “You’ve still got a finger or two to spare.”

“I used to,” Emmrich answered, a certain melancholy weaving between the words. “I used to never take it off. Someone…” ‘Say it. Be honest, be brave.’ “Someone very beloved to me gave it to me, over ten years ago.”

Emmrich’s heart skipped a beat. In the kitchen, Agnes was no longer paying the slightest bit of attention to Lucanis, or the pasta. Her grey eyes—unreadable as they were—were fixed, adamantly, upon Emmrich himself. 

“So why not now?” Bellara asked, utterly unaware of the powder keg she was about to set off with her questioning. “What changed?”

Emmrich swallowed, choosing his words carefully. 

“I behaved very badly towards them. Hurt them terribly.” His left thumb worried at the base of his middle finger, where he’d worn the ornament for so many years after Agnes had first given it to him—it still felt strangely bare without it. “Pretty as the ring may be, I could not really endure the sight of it, after. The regret I felt for my actions, the guilt… it was profound.” He flashed Bellara a rueful grin. “But of course, by then it was too late to remedy my mistake.”

“So you wear it around your neck,” Bellara said, softly, practically swooning as she misinterpreted the gesture as romantic; “to keep it close to your heart.”

Emmrich felt his face burning, flushed with sudden embarrassment. “That’s—well, indeed, I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

“And what’s the other way?” Davrin challenged, not bothering to look up from the wooden carving in his lap as he asked. 

“Master Emmrich is a masochist, Warden Davrin,” Manfred interjected, unhelpfully, from the corner of the room where was playing a dice game with Neve. “He wears the bauble thusly to punish himself.”

“Manfred!” Emmrich hissed. 

“Is he wrong?” Davrin replied, a slight tilt to his lips that suggested he was hiding a smirk. 

“…I would not have used such language myself,” Emmrich replied, his face flushed brighter red than ever, “but yes. I wear it to remind myself never to make the same mistake again.”

“That’s sad, Emmrich,” Bellara replied, eyes fixed on him as firmly as Agnes’, although Bellara’s look was more doleful than intent. “And silly. Whoever gave this to you, I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to be beating yourself up like that.”

Agnes’ eyes slid at last from his face, feigning rapt interest in the pasta dough on the island in front of her. Emmrich cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I would not be so certain of that.”

“You should wear it anyway,” Taash said, straightening from where she had stood behind the sofa, peering at the ring over Emmrich’s shoulder. “Towers Age, isn’t it? It is old, and finely wrought—finer than any of the other rings you wear.” With a raised eyebrow, Tassh added, “Besides, whatever you did, it’s not like hiding it away is going to bring that person back.”

Back in the kitchen, Agnes was back to helping Lucanis roll out little ears into the dough with her thumbs. If she was still listening, she gave no indication of it; she looked rather like she had lost interest (in the conversation; in Emmrich himself) completely. 

Taash was right. Fate may have thrust the two of them back together, but Agnes was not the woman she had been when she left. The two years apart had changed her: made her more confident, more crass, more affable—at least, to everyone but him—and stamped out, he suspected, whatever love she had once borne for him in her young heart. If indeed she had ever really loved him at all. 

“I suppose not,” Emmrich answered, softly. 

Nevertheless, he still tucked the ring back beneath his shirt.

[buckets-and-trees]

hii i have a request this can be for Ransom or Andy

But imagine y/n and him are in an arranged marriage. y/n is doing everything she can for him to sign the divorce paper for examples smashing his cars, serving overly salty food, cutting his expensive clothes into pieces, disrespecting his workers, and spending his money on the most useful things (but if it ransom spending money at “low class” retail shops only bc I feel like he’ll hate that), etc.

instead of giving her a divorce, he just randomly starts acting like a romantic gentleman until the night ends he punishes her 🙊😈

I have to apologize for taking so long to answer this ask... and forgive me for not using all the inspo you dropped my way, but from the MOMENT I read this, I knew it was going to fuel something very specific for I'm Your Man Andy and his entrapped fiancé reader., and so I still needed to post it as an answer to this to give some credit where it's due. So even though it took months and months to get to here, this is the result.

Title: Don't Look Too Far

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After jetting away with Andy for a week, you're back. The reality that this is going to be your life starts to settle in in very unsettling ways. And although Andy's taken so many liberties with you already, he finally crosses a line you didn't know was on the board.

Content/Warnings: violent behavior; spanking as punishment; emotional manipulation; explicit smut: nipple play, cock stroking, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex; use of pet name (sweetheart), implied dacryphilia

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

Author Note 2: I've been sitting on this for a long time, and I'm excited to finally have it here to share with you. Some of you genuinely seem to love this awful Andy, and you'll like this chapter. Some of you kinda like him against your will and I think you'll like this chapter (cough @stargazingfangirl18 cough). Some of you loathe this man, and you might like at least a few things in this chapter (looking at @biteofcherry).

You are glad to get home from your whirlwind trip with Andy.

Everything had been stunning, luxurious, and beyond your wildest dreams in one of the places you’d been longing to go almost your entire life. Even Andy had been nearly wonderful and certainly subjected you to endless spoiling and copious amounts of exquisite sex.

He makes all of this so difficult.

The private jet touches down in the early afternoon, and Andy allows you to avoid him until dinner. One of the things he’d made clear was an expectation from day one was having dinner together. After dinner, he insists on taking you for a ride in his Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante – not his only sports car in the gargantuan garage of his mansion, and not even the only Aston Martin. Though he gave you no choice in whether or not to join him, he doesn’t force conversation, merely lets you enjoy the scenic drive, occasionally holding your hand. Once home, he takes you to bed and gets you to scream out through two orgasms for him before he lets you rest in peace.

The next morning, you awake alone. Andy only invokes a little small talk in the kitchen, lets you know he’ll be taking a few meetings, places a kiss on the top of your head while you eat breakfast at the counter, and then leaves.

It is more room than you have been used to in the mornings, and you don’t question it. You are happy to have the Saturday to yourself.

Three days after Andy so decisively put his engagement ring on your finger, he put a black card in your wallet. Today you will break it in.

You start at a hair salon you have never been able to afford but that had been on the “essential” list of prenuptial rituals for some of the wealthiest brides you’d planned nuptials for. Having the long-standing relationship with the establishment to arrange appointments for your clients meant they were willing to fit you in last minute for the late morning.

You hold yourself back from doing anything drastic. You don’t want to give Andy the satisfaction of driving you to go for a new style. You leave more than a generous tip.

You get lunch at a small sandwich shop – one of your favorites. You choose a table with a view out one of the large windows. It’s nice to be in a familiar place, even with the presence of Shep watching out for the non-existent security threats.

After lunch, you ask Mark to drive you to the plant nursery you love.

You get everything you want, leaving no plant behind if it strikes your fancy. You buy lovely pots for all of them and never look at price tags. When you tap your card for the enormous bill, it’s with a self-satisfied smirk on your face.

Next you go to the nail salon. They are busy, as it’s Saturday afternoon, just as you knew they would be, but they say they can take you in an hour or less, and since you have no demands on your time, you’re more than fine waiting.

As it’s late summer, it really is too warm for the plants to stay in your car, so you insist on sending Mark home with the plants – you know better than to try to convince Shep to go with him. The man has made it clear he will not shirk his duty as the point man for the security Andy has assigned to you. He’s ever present, and you don’t give him a hard time – he’s only doing his job. Shep doesn’t like your suggestion, however, and instead calls someone from the house to come pick up your plants so neither of the men have to leave.

Once your pedicure and manicure are complete, you check your phone while you’re escorted to the SUV. Your mom has sent you a text.

MOM: Call me when you get a chance! I want to hear all about your trip!

You frown as you slide into the backseat.

How did she know?

Since being trapped and installed into the life of the mob boss, you’ve avoided getting together with any of your friends or family, phone calls, and any deep text conversations. It’s self-isolation, nothing mandated from Andy. But what would you tell them about your new circumstance? Forced into an engagement with a charming, handsome man who just happens to be a mobster with control issues you were sure you could never escape from? Not a subject you want to get anywhere close to.

You only hesitate for another moment before you hit the call button and place the phone to your ear as Mark starts your drive home.

“Hello, dear!” your mom’s voice is clear and full of excitement.

“Hi, Mom,” you reply, smiling despite yourself.

Your heart aches for the weeks it’s been since you two last spoke. You missed her voice. You’re close with both of your parents. Your job had kept you incredibly busy over the past five years, but you usually spoke with them at least once a week and made it out to their house in the suburbs once or twice a month.

“I got your text,” you say simply, not sure how else to begin.

“Yes!” she exclaims, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want to hear everything about your trip! But first, we have to talk about Andy!”

She can’t see it, but your jaw drops. “Andy?”

“He made us promise not to say anything until after lunch today – and I’m sorry, it’s why I haven’t texted or called all week, I wasn’t sure I couldn’t NOT bring him up, but he told us everything! How you met–”

“Well, you know I planned that signature gala for him,” you interject, somehow needing to jump in to clarify that point.

“Of course, yes, but how he was so impressed by you but waited until the event was over before saying anything, how he couldn’t help moving so fast with you. When he reached out earlier this week to set up the lunch with your father and I, he said he wanted us to meet him without you there so that we could thoroughly vet him and judge for ourselves without worrying you, make up our own minds even though he was obviously hoping we would approve since you’re engaged, but he didn’t reveal that detail until today.”

“Oh,” your mind is racing. “Andy always seems to have something up his sleeve.”

She laughs. “I can only imagine! And things certainly developed quickly!”

“Yes…” your voice is thick with hesitancy, and you know you can’t hide it from her.

“But your father and I want you to know that while you don’t need our approval, you have it. We’re surprised, but we approve. He’s so clearly smitten with you, and we know you would never jump into an engagement like this unless you were sure. We trust you.”

You don’t know what to say.

“I would have told you and Dad about the engagement,” you say. You don’t know when you would have. You were still so freshly coming to terms with its reality and ramifications…

Now telling your parents about Andy is yet another thing he has stolen from you.

“We know! We were young once, too! I can only imagine how much that man must have swept you away!” she soothes and exclaims, her voice bright and beaming through the phone.

It makes your chest ache because if this had evolved without Andy’s constant control, it might have been like this, and you would have gushed and been giddy with your mom right now in this moment.

“Why don’t we get lunch tomorrow just the two of us?” you suggest, wanting nothing more than to talk to your mom, but desperately needing to get off the phone so you can regroup, clear your thoughts, and figure out what in the world you are going to be able and willing to tell her.

“I would love that! Where do you want to go?”

You quickly sort out details that you promise to confirm over text, say your goodbyes, and then you end the call. You set the phone on the seat, drop your head back, and shut your eyes, fighting back angry tears. You wouldn’t let them fall down your cheeks.

“Your mom sounds like a lovely woman,” Shep interrupts your thoughts.

The laugh that tumbles out of your mouth is short and underscores how ridiculous all of this is. “She is. She’s not perfect, but she’s the best and has the biggest heart,” you respond with a genuine smile.

“She passed it on to you,” he says, meeting your eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror.

“You two should probably meet her tomorrow,” you offer up.

“We look forward to it,” Mark chimes in.

That’s the end of the exchange, but it dawns on you that while these two men have been assigned to your personal security and transportation, and they’re work for Andy, they have been nothing but professional, and you can see now that while they’re not warm and soft, there is a degree of care from them that has developed or that you’re only now recognizing exists that does seem to go beyond being a paycheck for them. Mark is probably close to your age, and you would guess Shep is eight or ten years older. Both men wear wedding bands on their left hands.

Having to have them assigned to you, you’re grateful it’s these two seemingly good men.

You’re sure there could be much worse.

You’re quiet the rest of the ride home, but your mind doesn’t stop racing.

“Would you like to get out at the front of the house or in the garage, ma’am?” Mark asks as you near the house. He always asks because the house is so large it makes a difference.

The corner of your mouth lifts as you decide, “The garage, please.”

The garage is a drive in basement level on the southeast corner of the house and holds two dozen cars, including the black Range Rover designated for you. You wonder if you’d ever be allowed to drive a car of your own again.

More aware now of the men, you notice there is a degree of ease that settles particularly over Shep now that you’re safe in the house again. You wonder if that’s always been the norm or if there’s a higher threat potential than usual. The shift does clue you into the reality that Andy is involved in more dangerous things than you thought. Instigator or target, you don’t know which he is, but regardless he’s swimming in dangerous waters, and you’re tied to his fate now.

This is your life.

Would you have chosen it?

Would you have?

A month ago, before the gala, you had genuinely been taken with him, even thought of him as you went to bed, alone, a hand on your breast and a toy between your legs and imagined what it would be like to have him there dealing out your pleasure instead. You hadn’t thought any serious interest being reciprocated from even the faintest possibility.

You had been so wrong.

And he’s dealt more pleasure than you had ever experienced.

More pain as well.

He was mindful of your physical limits, even if he rode them mercilessly.

He failed to comprehend the gravity of the rest of the pain he caused.

And today he reached a limit you hadn’t been expecting.

You slide out of the backseat when Shep opens your door, and instead of heading for the staircase in the corner, you move to the south wall of the garage and start opening cabinets. Shep tracks your movements but gives you space.

In the second set, you find Andy’s golf clubs.

Perfect.

You test a few of the drivers, and when you’re satisfied you’ve got the heaviest in your hands, you pull it clean out of the bag and make your way directly to the car you’ve noticed Andy favors most.

His silver Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante.

The very car he drove you around in last night.

You hold nothing back in your swings, cracking the glass with your second hit. The third doesn’t do much more damage, so you move to the metal body, and here’s where you see you will get at least some of your satisfaction, easier to create dents in the metal than breaking the windshield. You do manage to smash one of the windows. Then you round on the next car.

Neither Mark nor Shep move to stop you, but you do see Shep is on the phone briefly.

You guess that you won’t be alone for long, so you move to a third car. Andy arrives as you lay into the fourth car. You look over at him with apprehension, unsure of what his next move will be. He meets your gaze, surveys the damage you’ve done so far, looks back at you, and then takes up position leaning against the Range Rover.

You grit your teeth, then raise the club over your head and bring it down with a battle cry over the hood of the silver Porsche 911 Turbo. A fifth car bears the fire of your rage, and mid-swing on the sixth is when a someone finally grabs the other end of the iron. You scream in fury and turn to face Andy, who’s looming over you, his blue eyes dark, stormy, and his mouth a thin line.

You yank against the club, but his grip is firm. You don’t let go though, still trying to wrest it from his hands, eyes locked on his, and he uses the rod to pull you closer to him, nearly chest to heaving chest (yours, not his).

“That’s enough, sweetheart.” His fingers work yours away from the metal rod, and he clasps one of your hands in his to keep you close while - eyes on you - he tosses the club to Shep, who catches it easily.

You huff and try to pull your hand away, but he interlocks your fingers and then starts to lead you away and up the stairs. Not wanting to allow him seeing any petulance from you, you comply and follow him in silence. Adrenaline starting to taper off, you feel exhaustion seeping into your limbs, and part of you wonders if Andy knew you were reaching the end of your strength and stopped you before you would have lost steam on your own. Your stomach seethes.

Once on the main floor, you fall in step with him, not needing the staff to see anything that will make them talk. Some of them may be oblivious to why you’re here, but you know there are those who are aware at different levels that you aren’t here as the other half of a fairytale.

Your destination turns out to be the family dining room, not the formal one.

Dinner, of course.

He pulls your chair out for you, tucking it politely as you sit, and then takes his place across from you.

Sometimes you and Andy talk over dinner.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

If he’s going to be silent about today, say nothing more about your vandalism on arriving home, then you certainly are not going to stoke conversation. His eyes are on you frequently, but you ignore him.

Halfway through dinner and after taking a sip of wine, Andy finally says, “Your hair looks nice.”

You scoff. “As if you really noticed. Your men told you where we were.” You know it’s hardly changed.

Andy set his fork down. “Look at me,” he demands, tone serious, and so you comply. “They’re your men, and don’t make the mistake of thinking I will ever fail to notice a detail, especially when it comes to my wife.”

Your heart skips a beat - part fear, but part some flare in your heart that you hate reacting to his words. You raise your chin in defiance. “I’m not your wife.”

“Yet.”

Threat and promise.

As if the exquisite engagement ring whose heavy weight you were growing so used to weren’t a constant reminder.

Rather than think further on that, for the rest of the meal you consider his correction that Shep and Mark are your men when you’d said they were his. It was an interesting distinction, and you would put feelers out to ask about it later - not Andy, but maybe with the men.

When dinner is over, Andy stands and reaches for your hand. He always does. It’s unsettling because if only you had ever had a choice, the gesture would be endearing. A few nights over this month that you’ve been his, he kissed the back of your hand and left to attend to business. Some nights, he wanted to watch something with you before bedtime, or go on a drive like last night. Most often he takes you to the bedroom.

It’s the latter tonight.

You walk silently to the master suite together. Every muscle in your body is taught with tension, with the simmering rage and hurt of the day seething through your veins.

Andy closes the door and turns to face you.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re so upset before or after your punishment?”

“My - what?!” You glower and put your hands on your hips. “Why am I being punished? You let me smash two more cars before you even stopped me.”

“It’s not about the cars, it’s your refusal to talk to me about something that clearly has you worked up.”

“Worked up?” Your eyes widen and then narrow. “I’m not worked up, Andy, I’m infuriated.”

“Then tell me what crime I’ve committed.”

You scoff and turn away.

He catches you before you’ve taken two steps, gripping your upper arm. He hauls you toward the bed, takes a seat on the end of the mattress, and then lays you down over his lap. He takes both your wrists in his left hand and holds them firmly while his right hand pulls your pants down.

All of it happens so swiftly that you can’t even fight him, but you cry out when the first, harsh slap hits your bare ass. The sting is sharp and shocking. The second comes quickly after. You try to shake out of his hold, but he growls your name, tightens his grip, and the third slap comes even harder.

Four. Five. He kneads the flesh of your ass between some of the smacks. Eight. Fifteen. Twenty. Somewhere in the middle, the smacks morph into a swirl of simultaneous pain and numbness – a mirror of how you feel. You’re sobbing once he finally stops, body sagging in defeat over his lap. He lifts you carefully and lays you stomach down on the bed. You fold your arms and hide your face into the frame of them to cry and settle into softer cries, and Andy lets you have the moment of privacy.

It’s not long before you register Andy’s return though, his weight sinking onto the bed next to you. Then his hand is on your tender backside, applying a cold cream to your skin, and the relief makes you let out a shuddering sigh. He works it over you slowly, gently, methodically. By the time Andy’s finished, so are your tears. You’re still full of emotions, but they’re a swirling, complicated mess. You feel like the frustration has been spanked out of you, but you’re still hurt and angry, but now you’re also confused by this tender act. This only extends when he urges you to roll over, and sit up, and he kisses your forehead. You look up at him dolefully, he wipes away the remaining tracks of your tears. He’s shed his clothes from the day and is now bare-chested and in a pair of navy silk pajama bottoms. He proceeds to gently help you take off your shirt, your bra, and then slips you into a silk robe he’s brought from the closet.

Then Andy stands, scoops you up into his arms, and heads to the balcony of your master suite. He settles down onto the loveseat and arranges you in his lap so you’re sitting sideways over him, and he wraps his arm around you. It’s more of the confusing closeness, physical intimacy that you crave but can’t give into with him. It’s the first time you’ve been out here, and it affords a beautiful view of the darkening sky. Yet another thing you would have yearned for but don’t want like this.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you say honestly.

He puts his hand under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“But will you hear me?” You ask and turn your head away and out of his hand.

He smoothes his thumb over your jaw but - to your surprise - doesn’t force you to look at him as he had before. Instead he lets his hand drop and brings it around your waist so he’s got both arms banded around you again.

“You’ve taken so much from me, Andy. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no way out of this, but it’s been mounting and it came to a peak today. I had a day to myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to spend it with my friends or my parents because I can’t tell them about us! I haven’t spoken or texted any of them on more than a surface level since this all began. And I haven’t gone back to work yet, but I want to work, I need to work, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell them either!”

He is quiet for a moment. And then, “I knew you hadn’t told anyone, but why do you think you can’t tell them about us?”

“What am I supposed to say?” You scoff. “I can’t tell them that you threatened me with blackmail and forced me into our engagement!”

“No,” he agrees, “You can’t tell them that.”

“So, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“That you fell for my charms, that I surprised you when I declared my intentions and by how serious I was, that I made it almost impossible for you to refuse me. It’s enough of the truth.”

You frown and scrutinize his face. “Enough of the truth,” you repeat, the words tasting bitter in your mouth. “Is that how you always live your life?”

 He lifts his chin, a flash of hardness in his eyes. “I’ve done what I needed to.”

“You didn’t need to go behind my back to meet my parents!” You blurt, the hurt in your voice bleeding out despite trying to keep it in, to keep it away from him, not wanting to share something so personal.

“I want to have a good relationship with my in-laws. My mother’s dead and my father was sentenced to life in prison when I was a kid.”

“But they’re my parents,” you stress. “I should have been able to be the ones to tell them about getting married. You stole that from me.”

Andy studies your face quietly.

You drop your gaze. You won’t tell him why stealing this moment – more than anything else he’s done – was your breaking point. You doubt he would care or understand, but he also doesn’t get to know something so personal. He hasn’t earned that right.

“You love them,” he finally says.

You nod. “We’re very close.”

He falls silent again.

Finally, you give an exhausted sigh. “Why did you have to do this to us?”

“I wanted you.”

“I wanted you, too. You should have let us fall into it.”

“Fall now.”

“I can’t,” you protest, and you look up to argue further, but he’s faster, cutting you off with a kiss.

His lips are demanding, and the heat he pours into the kiss seeps into the cracks he’s been chipping away inside you, and your traitorous body leans into the moment. You’re exhausted physically and emotionally.

You don’t know how you can ever let yourself fall for him.

But as his hands soothe up and down your back, you wonder if you have to deny yourself everything for the rest of your life?

What if you fell into him for one night? Allowed yourself to let go, to forget for just a few hours? You are so tired. And your body aches. And after so much hurt, betrayal, and anger running high through your veins for so many hours now, after the shock and release from being put over his knee, maybe you just want to forget and get lost in pleasure.

Pleasure you know he was far too capable of giving.

Not only capable of giving, but master of overwhelming you with it.

After he’s stolen so much from you these last weeks, maybe you want and need to steal a night of ecstasy without any thoughts.

You shift on his lap, his arms still around you, until you’re straddling his lap. You leverage his broad shoulders to push yourself up on your knees, and you look down at him. You can’t read everything in his dark blue stormy eyes yet, but you can interpret some of what’s there. He’s intrigued and you can see the spark of hunger flaring, but there’s something else you can’t quite read.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

He doesn’t pull you in closer, but his arms hold you steady in your kneeling stance. You reach for the tie of your silk robe, and you slowly pull it loose.

“Tonight is not for you,” your voice is low, quiet, but not soft, “it’s for me.”

His eyes narrow a fraction, but as you shrug the silky garment off your shoulders, he helps let the robe fall free to the ground.

Andy’s eyes rake over your naked form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His hands glide up your sides, rough palms contrasting with the softness of your flesh. You shiver despite the warmth of the evening air.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscles there. Your fingers trace the lines down to his abdomen, following the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. You can feel the evidence of his arousal, and he groans, gripping your hips tightly, and you squeeze his length - big as the rest of him - the cock that has ruined you.

He leans in and his lips burn a trail down your neck, over your chest and find one of your breasts, nipping on the swell before licking at your aereola and taking it into his mouth. Your fingers rake into his hair, and he sucks insistently until your nipple is almost painfully hard. He releases it with a pop, then moves to give equal treatment to your other breast. You press your needy cunt down against his groin, keening for him.

You grind against him, and he can’t help but groan. In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist instinctively as he carries you back into the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He takes less than a second to push his pajama bottoms down and off before he joins you on the bed, his body covering yours.

His weight presses you into the mattress. You feel every inch of his hard body against yours, and you arch up, desperate for more contact. Andy's hand slides between your bodies, finding your slick folds. He groans when he feels how wet you are for him.

"Always so ready for me," he murmurs against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

You whimper as his fingers tease your entrance, circling but not entering. You buck your hips, trying to force him inside, but he pulls back with a dark chuckle.

"Patience, sweetheart," he admonishes.

But patience isn't what you want tonight. You want to lose yourself in sensation, to forget everything but the pleasure he can give you. You reach down and grasp his thick length, guiding him to your entrance.

He forces your hand away with a tsk, and you glare at him, but he is grinning, moving down your body already. He kisses the sensitive spot on your lower stomach, the one he discovered that always makes you gasp and arch your back for him. His shoulders force your legs open to accommodate his frame as he plants himself between your thighs.

Andy's mouth descends on your core, his tongue laving your sensitive folds. You arch into him, a moan escaping your lips. His beard scratches deliciously against your inner thighs as he works you over with his skilled tongue. He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, building your pleasure steadily.

Your hands fist in his hair, holding him against you as you rock your hips. The coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter. Just as you're about to topple over the edge, Andy pulls back, denying you release.

“Andy, please,” you beg.

Andy's breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver and whine. He places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, then another, slowly working his way back towards your center. You squirm, desperate for more contact, but his strong hands hold your hips firmly in place.

He chuckles, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you. "I thought this night was for you," he teases, his beard scraping deliciously against your thigh. "Let me take care of you."

Before you can protest, his tongue laves a long, slow stroke up your slit. You cry out, your back arching off the bed. He repeats the motion, this time circling your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Your hands fist in the sheets as Andy's talented mouth works you over. He alternates between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, never letting you settle into a rhythm. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that he knows makes you see stars.

"Oh god, Andy!" you cry out, your hips bucking against his face.

He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers pump in and out, matching the pace of his tongue on your clit. The dual sensations are overwhelming, and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your flesh. "Let go for me."

His words are your undoing. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your body arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelms you. But he’s anything but finished.

Andy doesn't let up, his mouth and fingers working you through your orgasm and pushing you towards another peak. Your body trembles, oversensitive but craving more. You tug at his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

"Too much," you gasp, but he ignores your weak protest.

He adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he continues to lap at your swollen clit. The intensity builds rapidly, and before you can catch your breath, you're tumbling over the edge again. This time, Andy pulls away, allowing you a moment to recover.

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to nip roughly at your collarbone. When he reaches your mouth, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, your hands roaming over his broad back.

Andy positions himself between your thighs. You reach between your bodies and guide him to your entrance. You need him inside of you. He pushes in slowly, stretching you deliciously, filling you completely. You both groan as he slides in to the hilt, and you throw your head back. He stills there, kisses along your jaw, then gives a soft rock of his hips, rutting against you, but not thrusting.

“Move,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him on.

Andy leans down and claims your lips again, demanding the intimate kiss as his price, his tongue licking into your mouth to tangle with yours. He then sets a steady rhythm that has you moaning with each thrust. You buck your hips to draw him in with each stroke. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans of pleasure.

You drag your nails down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. He hisses, then retaliates by biting down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The sharp pain mixed with pleasure makes you cry out.

"Harder," you demand, needing more, needing to lose yourself completely.

Andy growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, the force of his thrust pushing you up the bed. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his movements. Your walls clench around him, drawing a guttural groan from his throat.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "Take what you need from me."

You're climbing higher and higher, chasing that blissful peak. Andy snakes a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles over the sensitive bud, and it's too much.

You shatter, screaming his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body convulses, clenching rhythmically around him. Andy fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you're a trembling mess beneath him as he chases his own release.

It takes a few more strokes, and then he’s spilling his hot seed inside of you, groaning against your neck. He collapses his weight onto you for a few moments, catching his breath. Your hands roam over his back. If you had been given the chance to choose him, to choose this life, wrapped in his arms right now you would have felt blissfully content, and so since tonight was a pass on reality, you let a satisfied sigh fall from your lips.

Andy’s lips find yours again, and you kiss until you feel floaty and boneless beneath him, head empty of all thoughts.

When the fervency of the kisses finally slows into a languid calm, Andy finally rolls off of you. He reaches for the switch to turn off the soft lights that had been on, then settles on his side, facing you. He traces lazy patterns over your form with his fingers, and you close your eyes and simply feel.

You didn’t know you had fallen into sleep except that the motion of Andy pulling you into his chest so he can spoon up behind you pulls you back into consciousness. He chuckles softly at your little mewl, and then pulls you a little closer to his warm chest and plants a kiss on your neck, just below your ear. You settle against him without complaint.

You’re exhausted, and you don’t know where he finds the resilience, but his hand snakes down to cup your cunt again, and you hum as he begins to work your clit. You have no strength left in you, but if you don’t have to work for it and Andy’s going to give it to you, you’ve learned under his hand that he always knows how to coax out one more climax from you when you think you’re already spent.

Your breath speeds up again, and you can feel the promise of pleasure pulling at your muscles, tightening them for one final release.

As he works you quickly up to that point, he speaks directly into your ear. “You said tonight was for you, not for me. It’s the lie you needed to tell yourself to let go, and that’s fine, but know that your pleasure is always pleasure for me.”

And so unfairly, your body comes for him right then, exactly as he wants you to, and you cry out before going even more limp in his arms. He presses another kiss on your neck, and you can feel his satisfied smile against your skin. You desperately wish you could break out of his arms and roll away from him, but you do not have even an ounce of strength left, and so you simply let the exhaustion overtake you and escape from him in sleep.

You’re vaguely aware of how close Andy keeps you all night. Since he typically does, it’s a surprise when you wake to an empty bed. There is only a vague suggestion of sunlight beginning to come in the windows, so you know it’s still incredibly early. The sheet is down around your waist, and you splay your arm out to where Andy should have been. The bed isn’t cold, but there’s only a hint of warmth, so you know he’s been up for a while.

As if unnervingly on cue, Andy comes in from the ensuite bathroom and hums at seeing you awake. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He strides right up to the edge of the bed, leans down, and plants a kiss on your cheek, then rubs his hand softly over your jaw.

“Morning,” you respond.

You hate how lovely this scene should be. Your heart wants it, but your brain reminds you not to accept this contrived intimacy he pretends is real and normal.

He crosses the room and retrieves his phone, starts to put on his watch, the finishing touches before he embarks on his day.

“You can sleep in,” he says softly.

“Why are you up so early? It’s Sunday.”

“Early tee time at the country club,” he answers.

You make a vague sound of acknowledgement and pull the sheet and duvet back up to burrow in for a lazy morning of more sleep and maybe some reading.

“Enjoy lunch with your mom, by the way,” he says at the door. “I’m teeing off with your father, so I’ll persuade him to have lunch with me to give you two time as just mother and daughter.”

You suck in a sharp breath and he departs, dropping this revelation, and leaving you to seethe at his making yet another bold move, seeping steadily further into the foundations of your life.

SO

YEAH

Still with me here?

Even though I figured out the plot point for this chapter a while back, when I wrote it, I had to take a break a few times because I was upset over how some things were playing out.

I was also surprised by some of the development with her security detail of Mark and Shep. I randomly made them up really quickly during Prepare for Takeoff, but then here I learned they were going to end up being even more important than I thought (including something key for two specific future plot points).

next part: Burned Off the Haze

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[uhohnotthisagain]

Requited Love

Summary: Sam discovers his love for you in a not so clean dream, he doesn't realise his actions following the realisation would effect you so much.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: slight mentions of sex, angst, pining, makeout.

My Masterlists

Sam woke up in a sweat, but this time it wasn’t a nightmare. He could still feel the way your hands felt on his skin. The way your lips felt pressed against his. The way you felt wrapped around his cock. 

Holy shit was he actually thinking about his best friend that way. He rubbed his hands over his face before he felt movement next to him. He looked over at you sleeping, sprawled out with hair all over the place. You usually slept together in the same bed when out on a hunt. 

He tried his best to climb out of bed quietly so as not to disturb you, hoping a cold shower would rid him of those insane thoughts. 

–

Later, you’re all sitting at a diner, eating dinner. As you take a bite of your burger, Sam can’t help but notice the way your lips move as you chew, oddly attracted to the way they slightly pout when you chew. He shakes his head, trying to focus on anything but you. 

–

You and Dean are in deep conversation about which Led Zeppelin song is the best, sitting on the couch in the motel room whilst Sam does some research on the hunt. It was a pretty easy hunt so not a lot of effort was needed. Sam gave himself the excuse to get distracted. 

He watched the way your hair would swing when you talked to Dean, dramatically moving your hands as you spoke to emphasise your point. His eyes travel down your body, taking note of the way his old college t-shirt looked on your body, paired with the tight-fitting leggings that donned your lower half. 

He caught himself just before he started to imagine what you would look like without the clothes on. 

–

It was just you and Sam in the motel room. Dean had gone to the local bar for a few drinks, both you and Sam opting to stay in for the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little down. You noticed a few days ago that Sam hadn’t been talking much. You didn’t take much notice until you realised he was still talking to Dean, but seemed to be avoiding you. You didn’t know what you had done, but you were starting to feel self-conscious about your actions, trying to think of what you could have done to upset him. 

Sam was still sitting at the table, hunched over his laptop. You were watching some random movie that was on TV, not watching it properly. Your mind was too occupied trying to think of ways to get Sam to forgive you.  

“Sam?” You called to him. He hummed in response. 

“Did I do something?” He turned to look at you. “What?”

“Did I do something to hurt you?” He stared at you like you had two heads. “Of course not. Why would you think that?” 

“Because in the last week, you’ve barely spoken ten words to me. If I’ve done something wrong please tell me. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me. You’re my best friend. I can’t not talk to you. I’m going crazy here.” You let out a frustrated breath after your short ramble. “I’m sorry for whatever it is I did. I’m sure it was unintentional and I won’t do it again.” Sam is looking down at his fidgeting hands, debating what to do next. “Listen, Y/N. You didn’t do anythi-” “Obviously I have! You haven’t spoken to me in a week. I’ve been putting up with Dean this entire time because you won’t talk to me. I don’t think I can handle this much longer.” Sam didn’t realise how much this was effecting you. He finally did when he noticed the tears streaming down your face. 

“Tell me what I can do to fix it.” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, it would come out in ugly sobs. 

Sam let himself debate his actions for one last second before making a decision. He took two long steps towards you before cupping your face in his hands, smashing his lips to yours. 

It took a second for you to respond, and Sam was about to pull away before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You stayed like that until you had to pull away for air. “What was that?” You whispered. 

“I realised a week ago that I was in love with you. And I didn’t know what to do. I guess keeping my distance was the wrong way to go.” Sam whispered back. “Yeah, it was.” You respond, pulling him back down for another kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, tapping your hip to signal for you to jump. He instantly catches you, and carries you towards the couch, sitting down with you straddling him. 

“Ew, what the fuck guys. A heads up would’ve been nice.” You hear from behind you. You turn to see Dean standing at the door, hand over his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sleeping in the Impala tonight.” He turns around and walks out without another word. 

“Should we go get him?” You ask Sam, not moving to get off of his lap. “Maybe in a few hours,” He responds, pulling you back in for another kiss. 

[braxlrose]

BILL IS SOO FINE IM SCREAMING

YALL THE MODERN BILL FIC IS HERE!!! IM SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT :)

MODERN BILL MODERN BILL MODERN BILLLLLLLL

tw: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it lmao), swearing, hair pulling?? oral (f!r! receiving), idrk what else

englisch isn't my first language so I hope this isn't bad, Idk if i messed up any words

"Ich hab dich so sehr vermisst.."

It was 10 PM at night and you had been invited to a wedding by some friends. It was so beautiful and elegant. There was a big dance floor, flowers everywhere and little white lights hung along the walls. The wedding ceremony itself was now over but you stayed to dance and indulge in some of the food. Everything was going amazing until you saw him. Bill.

You haven't seen him since 2011. He looked so amazing. His hair was now blonde and more wavy than it used to be and he had more facial hair. Him and Tom were both there together, but Bill didn't seem to be with anybody. Which made relief flush over you. It probably shouldn't have, considering you two broke up 3 years ago. You didn't realize how much you missed him until you saw his beautiful face.

He was over at the bar sipping a martini while Tom was off with his date. He had on a plain white button up and some black pants. His sleeves were rolled up slightly so you could see the tattoos on his hand and arms much better. You honestly looked like a stalker. You had been staring at him for at least 10 minutes now. I mean, what were you even supposed to do. Just go up to him and say hi? Yeah, that's actually exactly what you are supposed to do. Which leads to where you two are now.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were on your waist. He was quite a bit taller than you, so your head was resting against his chest. The two of you were slow dancing to some song the band was playing. It was so relaxing and peaceful. He was so warm and you felt like you could feel every inch of him as his hands laid softly on your hips. He smelled of cedar and tea tree oil. Probably a new deodorant he got. But this was the greatest feeling in the world.

Or so you thought.

----------------------------------------------------------

"This is really nice.." You said to him, trying to breathe in his scent without him noticing.

"Yeah..it is. I've missed you. A lot." He said to you, rubbing his fingers in circles on your waist. What he said made you smile, big. He missed you too. Just as much as you missed him.

"I'm really sorry how everything went down when we broke up..I didn't mean for it to end-"

"Don't worry about it," He lifted your head off of his chest by holding your chin and looked down at you smiling, "I forgive you. You're one of my best friends. I could never stay mad at you forever." Tears pricked in your eyes and your bottom lip poked out a bit at his words. He was always so sweet with you..so..so..sweet.

"Oh fuck!" You rushed into the closest closet you could find and tried to compose yourself after you almost ripped your dress. Bill said he'd meet you here in just a minute. You took off your shoes and threw them in the corner and began to pull down your tights, when someone opened the door. You looked over at the opening like a deer in the headlights. Bill came walking in, chuckling a bit at your demeanor and shut the door, before pushing you against the wall of the closet.

Your lips smashed together. His lips were so soft and tasted like vodka. I guess that's the martini he had. Your thighs were rubbing together like crazy, trying to get some kind of friction when Bill tugged up your dress.

"You're so eager, baby..you want my fingers, hmm?" He teased you, rubbing two of his fingers against your pussy, collecting the wet slick down there.

"I'm the eager one? Remind me which one of us pushed me against a wa- Oh~ my....Bill..." His lips were now all over your clit, licking and sucking. You tried to hold onto a wall as Bill slipped two fingers inside of you. It felt like magic. He was so good. So good at making you feel good. He was so perfect and amazing and his tongue was sooo warm.

A couple tears fell down your cheek as he sucked harsher on your clit and finger fucked you.

"Bill..Oh my god....please.." Your eyes were practically screwed shut and your pussy kept clenching around his fingers. He looked up at you with his eyes, still licking your clit as fast as he could.

"Please what?" He muffled out. Your teeth were clenched and you began to feel a tightening in your stomach. You grabbed his head and pulled it away from your heated pussy.

"I want to cum on your dick." God, you were so filthy. You had streaks of makeup on your face from the tears and sweat was already forming on your forehead.

"Say no more, schatz.." He stood up from his knees and unbuckled his pants to pull out his cock. It was veiny, and so hard. The tip was already leaking pre-cum. You wanted to get down in front of him and suck him off till he couldn't stand anymore but you needed his cock in you, now.

He grazed his hands through your hair and tightened his grip on it, the kisses he gave you were so sloppy. Drool was everywhere and your makeup and his just smeared more and more. He took his hand out of your hair and gripped both of your thighs. You wrapped them around his waist as he thrusted his cock into you causing you to roll your eyes back. Your mouth was agape as he pounded his dick into you slow and hard. It's hard to tell if he just liked it that way or he was trying to tease you. Either way it felt amazing.

His hands roamed your body and both of your guys' breathing became heavier. He pulled your boobs out of the front of your dress and began to pinch and tweak them. He was so fucking good to you. He was so good at fucking you. You had slept with other people after you too were long broken up but nobody was as good as him. Nobody could be as good. His movements, his touch, him. He was like your other half. He was the only one who could ever make you feel the way you do. Alive. At this moment, you couldn't even remember why you two broke up in the first place. All you knew, was that you want him and only him.

He slid two fingers in your mouth as his pace quickened. You sucked on them like your life depended on it and clenched around his dick. Your eyes began to cross as you got closer and closer. His arms were wrapped around your whole body now and his face was hidden in the crook of your neck.

He bit down on your neck as you both came together. Your breathing began to level again and your arms were still wrapped around his neck. You rested your head on his shoulder as you could feel yourself slipping into your tiredness.

[wordstome]

Endless Nights - Price x Reader

I started thinking about Sandman again because of Barry Sloane as Destruction of the Endless and went back to reread everything Destruction is in, including his Endless Nights story. Now I can't stop thinking about Price x archaeologist reader...

1.7k, please forgive any archaeological or military errors I only took like 1 anthropology class two years ago

You've been on all sorts of digs, but this has got to be one of the most chaotic. Your team's been sent to this peninsula to unearth some recently discovered artifacts. They think it's remnants of a little-known indigenous population, and it's your job to dig everything up safely.

Only problem is, there's a military base on top of it.

"Maybe it won't be so bad. Military personnel are good at following orders," your coworker says while you're unpacking your tools.

You snort. "Yeah, but they're equally good at putting holes in things and blowing things up. I don't think they have a lot of respect for fragile ancient artifacts."

"Ouch," your coworker says, wincing and putting a hand to his chest in a mock expression of pain. "No love for our nation's bravest?" You roll your eyes at him.

"It's not like that. I'm just saying we need to be vigilant about keeping them away from work sites. Take no shit, as it were."

"With the military? Good luck, I guess."

It's not that you dislike or even distrust every single person who's ever been in the military, it's just that you don't have much faith in their ability to hold respect for your work. Archaeology is quiet, meticulous work, a far cry from gunfights and kicking doors in. You're going to be here for quite a while, and if you don't establish boundaries right out of the gate, you'll be fighting an uphill battle for the rest of the dig.

That's what you're telling yourself as you sit in a gray, featureless meeting room. You and your supervisor are supposed to be meeting with a John Price, a British SAS captain. Kate Laswell, an American CIA agent, told you he's the proxy you'll be cooperating with during the dig.

You're prepared for all sorts of men to walk through that door: a balding middle-aged man with a power trip, or perhaps some blustering meathead whose voice no longer goes lower than a shout. Instead, the man that walks through the door and shakes your supervisor's hand leaves you staring, just barely keeping it together enough so you're not drooling with your jaw on the floor.

He's hot.

Your head fills with static as he turns to you and hits you with possibly the most endearing smile you've ever seen on a man. It's not just that he's somehow pulling off the beard and mutton chops look, or that his rough British accent is making you feel some type of way down there. It's the way he walks, like it's heavy—

"Pleased to meet you," Price says, shaking your hand. His hand engulfs yours as he gives it a brief squeeze. It takes your every last brain cell to answer with something other than Please tell me you're not wearing a wedding ring because you're actually single.

The meeting consists of him and your supervisor laying ground rules while you nod mutely and try not to audibly moan when Price adjusts himself in his seat, his hips moving in a way that is definitely going to undo you if you think about it too hard.

You walk out of the meeting having barely survived, but confident that the whole ordeal was a one-time thing. He's just who you complain to if one of the soldiers stumbles into a work site and smashes one of the artifacts, after all. You'll never have to see him.

Except you do. Every day, multiple times a day, he's there. He's obviously got his own shit to do of course, but it's like you can't get away from him: walk into a tent, and he's there chatting to one of your coworkers. Eat a meal, and he's there talking to a squad of soldiers and clapping someone on the back with a hearty laugh. Turn a corner, and he's there to full-body slam into you—

"Pardon me, sweetheart. Didn't see ya there." You're ashamed to say you don't do much more than stare at him with what must be the most pathetic petrified doe eyes as he gives you a pat on the shoulder and goes on his merry way. That was like running into a solid brick wall...

It would be fine if it were just you having a silly little unreciprocated crush. You've had those before and survived. But what starts to get to you is the little things: the way his eyes flick to you when you enter his vicinity, accompanied by a nod. The way his eyes linger on you for a moment too long before looking away. The brief touches against your shoulders or hips when he's maneuvering past you in a small space.

Frankly, it's driving you crazy, and it's starting to show.

"If you dust that piece any harder, you're going to damage it," your coworker scolds you. You all but jump backwards from the piece you're working on. You'd been so absorbed in mentally dissecting his body language the last time you were in the same room as him that you'd brushed the piece far beyond the point of being clean.

This won't do. You have to do something about this.

Mercifully, you've been given your own individual room to sleep in, which is quite the luxury after a career full of sleeping in dusty tents or sharing bunks with coworkers. It also gives you enough privacy to...take care of business, as it were.

Obviously, you didn't bring any "tools of the trade" that weren't useful for your work, so it's just you and your hand past 11 pm. You feel beyond perverted, slipping a hand between your thighs as you think of Captain Price.

You can still feel the weight of his hands on your body, brief though they were, and picture what else those touches could be doing. Your own voice slips out in a moan as you imagine his, low and grumbling yet soothing while he pushes you into the sheets, that endearing smile turned devious and devastatingly sexy as he spreads you open for him with those hands of his and collects your wetness on his fingers...

Your heart jumps out of your chest as you hear a knock at the door. You all but fall out of bed, scrambling to pull on enough clothing to be decent. "J-just a minute!" you call, inwardly cursing yourself for how breathless you must sound.

You answer the door, flustered and a mess, to see the subject of all your fantasies staring there. For a split second, you're petrified by the possibility of Price having heard your desperate whines and whimpers and knocking on your door to politely ask you to quit cranking it in his barracks.

"Apologies, sweetheart. Hope I didn't wake you up?" His eyes are so striking, so sincere, that you know he could have woken you up from the best sleep of your life and you'd still be unable to be mad at him.

"No no, I was...no need to worry. What can I do for you?" you say, relief flooding through you. Of course he didn't hear you. He's not a total pervert like you.

"Well love, I...it's probably best if you come take a look for yourself," Price says, looking almost sheepish. Your heart sinks a little—this cannot be good.

He leads you out of the barracks towards one of the job sites, directing you towards a table with several excavated artifacts laid out. "One of my men thought it'd be wise to steal his mate's torch, had him stumbling around in the dark out here. He says he bumped one of these tables and heard something fall on the ground, and I figured you should know right away instead of waiting 'til the morning and having all sorts of people tramping through here."

You give him a brief grateful look before crouching down with a flashlight. After a bit of looking, you find the missing object: a thick shard of pottery, lying forlornly on its side by a table leg.

You reach forward to pick it up, but the captain has spotted it as well, resulting in his hand landing on top of yours over the pottery. For a brief, dizzying second, his hand lays heavy and warm over yours, and you could have sworn that his fingers had shifted as if to take your hand in his.

In a blink, the moment's over, and the captain's hand shoots back to his side. Trying not to make an utter fool of yourself, you push yourself back up to a standing position, examining the pottery shard with a discerning eye.

"Looks like no harm was done," you say to him with a smile. "Mayday averted."

"Good to hear. I'll make sure the knuckleheads who did this receive a thorough dressin' down for this incident." You're grateful that the warmth rushing to your face at his stern tone can't be seen in the dark as you carefully set the pottery back in its place on the table.

"I'll walk you back to the barracks. Can't have my favorite archaeologist stumblin' their way around themselves, now can I?" You nod mutely, unable to look at him for much longer than a few stolen glances.

The two of you are quiet all the way back to your door, where you stand in the hallway, fidgeting with your hands and feeling the urge to say something, anything. "Thank you," you blurt out. "For not waiting until tomorrow morning. There's no telling what foot traffic would have done before we noticed the missing piece."

"Your work's important, love. And while you're here, you're our guests. It'd be rude to not be taking care of your work, wouldn't it?" You nod shyly, basking in the warmth of his attention.

You're frozen to the spot as he leans in to whisper directly in your ear, his lips brushing against it. "Next time you're relievin' a bit of tension, feel free to stop by my quarters, yeah? I think you'll find there's a lot more I can take care of than just your work."

Your eyes go as wide as saucers as he winks at you. Before you can even process what just happened, he's already walking away from you down the hall.

Feeling like you've just been handed some delicious and forbidden secret, you whirl around to shut yourself into your room, sliding down with your back against the door to sit on the floor. Did that truly just happen? Are you hallucinating? Or had you fallen asleep by accident and you're really just having some beautiful, delusional dream?

It doesn't feel like a dream when you realize you're soaking wet.

God, I cannot wait until Barry Sloane's Destruction promo images drop. For reference, these are the posters we got for season 1:

To be very honest, I wrote this like a possessed woman in the span of like an hour. I don't think there's going to be a part 2 unless you guys really get me going with some new ideas 😅

Also, I don't have a tag list (because I write almost exclusively for one particular Austrian), but I will tag my beloved @danibee33, and @ceilidho, as thanks for giving me Barry Sloane brainworms.

[thereticx]

៚𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌

inspired by this song

pairing: Eren Jaeger x Reader

summary: Eren Jaeger shows his face again after a whole year away, recovering from the mess that was yours' breakup. Summer was already here and with it there's no escaping one another.

warnings: break up, ex's to lovers, cheating rumors, sexual themes, slight body talk

author's note: first attempt to write something that includes a song so I hope this isn't terrible (also the first one shot with smut after some time)

✎"Darling, you need to eat something. Please" Carla's voice rang through the massive room where she and her son stood for almost an hour trying to enjoy some good food. She hated seeing him like this, empty and absent.

Eren played with the fork while slowly raising his eyes to face his mother. He tried to mimic a smile as best as he could, maybe just maybe, she'll let it go "I'm not that hungry I ate before I got here"

The long ride to his mother's house gave him enough time to put himself together, to put up a front, convincing enough in order to not raise suspicions. But he forgot that it's his mother. Carla could read him like an open book, she was able to break through his facade and see him.

"Sweetheart, did you break up? Or is it something else? You know you can—"

"Yeah, we did" The boy felt how tears were about to fall from his eyes. God, he hated crying. It made him weak and hopeless. A single question was enough to take him back to that day where all went downhill.

「Hand over heart, I'm praying

That I'm gonna make it out alive 」

"Three years, Eren! Three damn years!" Your mouth tasted the salty tears that slipped over your chapped lips, then it hit you "Why?"

Eren stood in front of you, his eyes scanning your form. Your beautiful face was coated with tears and your eyes were tinted red from all the emotions flowing through them. Those eyes he got lost in every night held so much pain, so much betrayal, for him.

"Baby…please.. I can explain, just—" His trembling hands reached out for you, taking your face in them, his thumb brushing away a droplet of water. Eren's touch was so comforting yet so strange in that moment. You didn't know what to do, how to react. Part of you wanted to slap him so hard he would feel the sting for days, but another part wanted to give up. It was quite tempting to fall into his arms, to let him taste your lips and whisper what you so desperately wanted to hear.

「You got me scattered in pieces

Shining like stars and screaming」

No it's not right. You couldn't offer him your forgiveness not this time. With a shaky breath you managed to break everything you two have built. Every happy moment where you were laughing together, kissing, undressing everything crumbled. To say it hurt like hell was an understatement. It felt horrible. Eren felt his heart hurt, his chest moving up and down so fast he couldn't breathe properly "Please don't….please"

「This is a modern fairy tale

No happy endings」

That day haunted you for weeks on end. You grew to miss him so—so much that nothing had meaning in your life without him.

Eren was the air you breathed, he was the sun that warmed you up whenever you had a messed up day, when you wanted to smash everything in your sight and just hysterically cry.

He would warm you up with his little smirk that showcased perfect teeth, coming to embrace you and kiss your eyelids, your hair and finally your lips. There, he spent a good amount of time, swallowing every regret you had for the day and every bad thought. His lips were so gentle and sweet you couldn't resist. His fingers playing with the hem of your shorts while saying "Let me love you, baby"

And who were you to deny him?

「The bed's getting cold and you're not here

The future that we hold is so unclear

But I'm not alive until you call

And I'll bet the odds against it all」

The body that laid beside you was unknown, strange. Your soul refused to acknowledge it. The burning feeling you once got from Eren touching you, now it was locked up. There's no such thing as pleasure anymore. Only the gods now, you tried to love him. Your new boyfriend. You really did try.

If only he knew what was going on through your head a few hours ago when you had sex. If only he knew the boy who stole your mind and heart was far—far away and still you felt him so close.

His old shirts were kept in your closet, his ring that he had given you on your first year anniversary was kept beside you on your nightstand.

「There's a million reasons why I should give you up

But the heart wants what it wants」

Nights were the worst. In those moments you felt like the most. Your body tingles when you wear his clothes and when you click on the album you're faced with thousands of memories. All of them printed on your mind that when you close your eyes you're able to see him.

「You got me sippin' on something

I can't compare to nothing」

"Eren…this is my boyfriend" A knife ripped his skin and struck his heart. Was this really happening? He shook his hand trying to be as polite as possible but deep down he wanted to break your boyfriend's head and steal you away from him.

Eren was dressed handsomely but adapted to the hot weather. He had his key necklace hidden under his shirt and a smaller one sitting right at the base of his neck. His arms were decorated with bracelets all of them from the time you went to parties together but what really caught your attention was the ring he wore. The one you bought him when he turned nineteen.

He always wore it, even at the gym. Despite the fact that it left nasty marks on his finger, he didn't dare take it off.

When you trailer your eyes up his form you caught his eyes. You could see the pain and regret was still there, but he restrained himself from making a move. His body just couldn't move. You saw the innerbattle he endured seeing you with another man. It was hard for you too, because if he was to take your hand in his right then and there you'll give in and abandon your morals.

Please do it.

He didn't.

「But then you disappear and make me wait

And every second's like torture」

This was a terrible idea. You shouldn't be here with him. Not alone. It's not like you didn't trust him, you didn't trust yourself.

"So, about that thing. I didn't cheat on you. Historia just got into a fight with Ymir and I hugged her. That's all" Eren felt like it was too late to explain everything. But he had hope that you'll take him back.

「Save your advice 'cause I won't hear

You might be right, but I don't care

There's a million reasons why I should give you up

But the heart wants what it wants

The heart wants what it wants」

You smashed your cold lips against his, licking his lower lip to ask for entrance. His hands cupped your face keeping you so close your breaths became one. The taste of him was so addicting you desperately wanted to rip his clothes off.

"What about him?" He whispered, opening his eyes to scan your reaction. You smiled "The only one I care about right now is you. So, shut up and kiss me"

(the two of you broke up before this)

His arms lifted you by the hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt him smirk against your neck, pressing wet hungry kisses. You tilted your head to the side allowing Eren to mark your neck. Your fingers were in his hair taking out his hair tie and letting the long strands of hair to rest on his shoulders "Eren..please"

"I know baby, I know" With one kiss pressed on your lips he laid you down on his bed sheets, admiring your body. You were curvier than he remembered, more beautiful if that was even possible.

Eren removed his shirt, his torso and abs on full display. He let your finger travel on his pecks while he rested his forehead on yours "I fucking missed you" Your touch raised goosebumps on his whole body and his pants were tighter with every second.

You sat up discarding your clothes along with your bra and underwear. You kept your thighs together to stop the slick from slipping further down your legs.

Eren watched you with hungry eyes when he noticed something. Your arms were around your middle, to hide something. He leaned in, taking your lips in his, meeting your tongue. You couldn't escape him. His overwhelming presence made you remove your arms from around you and pull him in, working your way to get him out of his pants.

Eren gripped his dick in his hand aligning with your entrance. His slit moved briefly up and down teasing you "Eren please.." You raised your hips to get some kind of friction.

The boy gripped your hips and stopped your movements "Tell me if it hurts" He pushed his tip inside, making you gripp the bedsheets. It's been a long time since he had been inside you and your now ex boyfriend wasn't even near as big as Eren.

He pushed forward making you close your eyes to stop the tears from building up "Relax baby I'm almost halfway"

Halfway?

"Eren it hurts—" Upon hearing you, he moved no more. His hands grabbed yours and squeezed them "Shh…you're doing so good love..so good" You opened your eyes seeing him look at you with so much love and admiration. He was painfully hard but still he took it slow for you.

His thumb drew circles on your hand while he whispered "Do you remember the first time we did it? You took me so good. Fuck, this pussy is perfect baby. You're perfect"

While he talked you were so focused that you didn't pay attention to the pain anymore "Can I move?"

Oh..

You slowly nodded your head and felt Eren's thrusts. His movements were slow but deep. Your walls hugged him so good he felt like cumming right then.

"Oh fuck—" He picked up the pace, making you see stars. His dick went deeper with every movement reaching your g spot.

You arched your back feeling your orgasm build up "Eren I'm about to cum" He let go of your arms letting you wrap them around his neck. You rested your face in the crook of his neck, panting.

Eren felt your pussy clench around him as your orgasm hit you "That's it baby. Let it go" He put his hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair while he kissed your hair line.

When he pulled out of you, your juices where running down your inner thighs "No..you didn't get to cum"

He laughed sweetly pecking your lips "Don't worry about me—"

But you didn't listen. You pushed him on the bed, your lips kissing him lower and lower, reaching his still hard dick.

You looked up at him and god, he was about break. His hair stuck to his handsome face, his cheeks reddening. He was embarrassed.

You started kissing his dick from the base until you reached his tip. Your tongue came in contact with the precum and didn't hesitate to take him in all the way.

"Fuck—fuck" You felt his fingers grip your hair while he held you there for a second. He didn't apply pressure letting you do whatever.

You moved your head up and down, your tongue flat against his dick. He wasn't able to contain himself and thrusted up in your mouth "Don't stop fuck—"

You didn't dare to. Your hand squeezed his balls while you went faster. His moans were getting louder which indicated that he was close. Eren wasn't the one to shy away when having sex. He was as loud as he wanted.

His dick hit the back of your throat, releasing his load.

He watched you swallow his cum. You crawled on top of him kissing him. He trapped you with his arms, his lips biting your earlobe "I love you, Y/N"

You didn't reply with words but rather you kissed his jaw resting your head on his chest.

I love you

He knew that. You didn't have to speak.

For him it was enough that you were there.

That night the two of you made a promise. Through breathless moments you admitted to yourselves that…..

「The heart wants what it wants, baby

It wants what it wants, baby」

Your hearts want one another.

[redskull199987]

All the right Moves

Eskel x female Witcher!reader  Word count:2.4k warnings: canon typical violence, reader is injured, fluff at the end Summary:You´re on your way back to Kaer Morhen together with Eskel, as you run into a Leshy. You knew that something was wrong, as Eskel told you he wouldn't want to travel with you anymore…

Masterlist

You were hiking so fast, that you could feel your lungs burning inside your chest. Your throat dry from not drinking anything for hours. Your feet were begging you to stop, even just for a minute. But you knew, you couldn't. If you stopped now, he would be dead, once you reached Kaer Morhen. You just had to make it in time. If Eskel died, you would never forgive yourself. His words were still ringing in the back of your head.

“Leave me alone!”, he yelled, as he pushed you away from him. Confused, you looked at the Witcher, who was normally warm and understanding around you. All you had done was touch his shoulder carefully, asking if you could see his injury.“Eskel…are you okay?”, you mumbled, Confusion still written all over your face.

“Just fuck off.”, he cursed under his breath, turning away from him. 

You watched in confusion as he walked away from you, gathering his weapons. He didn't look back at you even once.

Your breath hitched slightly, as you could finally see the silhouette of Kaer Morhen on the Horizon. One or Two hours more and you would reach the old castle. It would be nightfall by then. You finally started to walk again, reaching into your pocket to find the potion, that was the reason why you were so late. You were sure that all the others had already arrived. Geralt and Vesemir probably worrying not only about Eskel, but also wondering why you didn't arrive yet. 

You desperately wished that you weren't so late. But it had taken you longer than expected, to find someone who knew how to make the potion you needed. If it weren't for a mage, who was a good friend of yours, who teleported you near the mountains, where Kaer Morhen was, you would´ve lost several days and Eskel would probably be dead already. But luckily, you were only half a day behind him, which luckily gave you enough time to save him. Or so you hoped. 

“Just fucking leave me alone!”, Eskel screamed at you, after you had finally managed to get a good look at his shoulder.“You´re infected, Eskel!”, you yelled, trying to grab his hand,”If we don´t do something, you will die!”“I am not going to die, so just leave me alone. I don't need you. I never needed you!”, he barked, looking at you with a stern expression. You were taken aback by his words. You knew that he didn't mean it, he didn't know what he was saying. But it still hurt you. 

 Before you could say something more, he was already mounting the horse and running off. You didn't try to follow him. It was worthless. You knew that he would be in Kaer Morhen after you found a potion that would save him. 

You looked at his back one more time, before making your way into the other direction, already knowing who you could ask for help.

A small sigh left your lips,as you finally reached the doors of the keep. You were about to push it open, as the medallion around your neck started shaking. Hastily, you made your way inside. This wasn't the first time this happened today. But this time it was much harsher. 

You didn't see anyone at first. The great hall was completely empty, but you could see plates full of food and tankards filled with ale standing all over the place. Someone was here not long ago. 

Your head shot up, as you heard ruckus coming from the laboratory, seconds later the sound of pots being smashed and tables thrown over. As you finally started running, you could hear a beasty groan. “Fuck.”, you grunted as you heard the voices of Geralt and Vesemir. And as you finally reached the designated room, you peeked through the open door. What you saw almost made you lose your composure.  

Right there, just a few meters in front of you, was Eskel towering over the other two Witchers. But he wasn't himself. Not in the slightest. He had transformed into a wooden beast, his face barely visible, but it was there. 

Mere seconds, after laying your eyes on him, you wanted to storm towards him, but a magical shield was blocking the door. You quickly drew your sword, as you saw what was about to happen. 

Eskel had managed to trap Vesemir, resulting in Geralt lighting up his sword to end it.

As fast as you could, you muttered a spell and lifted your sword. With all your power, you pierced it through the barrier.

You took three big steps, breathing in heavily, knowing that what you were about to do would knock the air out of your lungs. 

And only as you stepped in front of him, lifting your blade to meet his in the air, Geralt had finally noticed your presence. He looked at you perplexed, as your sword clanked against his, the metall hissing from the heat. “What are you doing?”, he asked, not even angry, but genuinely concerned. “You're not going to take him away from me!”, you claimed, as Geralt slowly lowered his sword.

“Please just trust me!”, you urged the white wolf. He only nodded at you, as you quickly turned around, grabbing the small potion from your pocket.

“Eskel?!?!”, you yelled as loud as you could. The beast-turned Man quickly turned around, upon hearing your voice. Vesemir, who had previously been choked, fell to the ground, coughing. “Take care of him!”, you ordered Geralt, who was able to quickly make his way over to the older Witcher, since Eskel´s attention was all on you now. 

“Here goes nothing.”, you muttered under your breath, as you felt a branch pierce through your shoulder. You yelped, as you were lifted into the air, more branches wrapping around your body. You were pushed against a wall, as Eskel leaned closer to you.

“Y/N”, he sputtered, his eyes scanning your form. 

“It's me, Eskel.”, you affirmed, slowly bringing the potion to your mouth to rip the cork off, “You´re going to be alright, my love. Don´t worry.”

Eskel was about to answer, but no words left his mouth, he was just staring at you. You quickly realized that this was your chance, as he was momentarily confused. You lifted your arm, as best as you could and threw the small bottle of potion right into his mouth. He choked on it for a second, not comprehending what had just happened. “I'm sorry in advance.”, you quickly mumbled, before lifting your foot and kicking him in the jaw, in order to make him swallow the potion. 

Your breath hitched for a second, as you didn´t know what was going to happen. Would it work? Would he live?

As you fell to the ground with a grunt, you were pretty sure that it was working. Grabbing your bleeding shoulder, you quickly backed off, as Eskel started to squirm around, an angry scream leaving his lips.

“Y/N?!”, Geralt yelled, as he tried to reach you, but Eskel´s branches were throwing a tantrum, swinging all around the hall.

“Please just work.”, you prayed, but suddenly, all movement stopped. The room was silent for a second, before all the wood surrounding you suddenly started  corroding. You watched with wide eyes, how all the branches coming out of Eskel slowly crumbled away all the way up to his body.  He had stopped moving for a second, but as you stood up and called out for him, the wooden exoskelett rumbled to life. You heard cracking and wood breaking and seconds later, you saw Eskel´s Human body falling out of what looked like a tree stump now.

"Eskel!", you gasped and leaped forward just in time to catch him. His body weight pulled you down with him. He was still unconscious, as you slowly turned him around, resting his head on your lap. Just now, you took a good look at him. His entire body was covered in dirt. Vines and leaves had grown in and around his clothes. The only thing untouched, was his Witcher medallion.

“He´s alive.”

You looked up at Geralt and Vesemir who were now standing in front of you. Vesemir was still leaning on Geralt for support, but apart from that he seemed fine to you.

“You saved his life”, Geralt added. All you could do was nod. Your emotions were slowly coming to the surface now and you realized that you could´ve lost him today. But here he was, laying in your arms unconsciously. 

"Come on.” , Vesemir  patted your shoulder, kneeling down next to you,”Let's get him fixed up. We´ll take care of this”, he lifted his hand to gesture around the completely destroyed room,”later, alright?”

You just nodded again, stepping aside, as Geralt and Vesemir proceeded to lift Eskel up to carry him to his room. As the other Witchers ran into you, you promised them an explanation , but for now, you needed to look after Eskel.

Your eyes kept falling shut over and over again, as you lay in a chair in front of Eskel´s bed. It had been a few hours since you managed to cure him from the infection. He hadn't woken up since. You tried to stay awake but sleep was gnawing at you, like a hungry aeschna.

“Sorry? Are you Y/N?”

Your eyes opened once more, as you looked over to the door to see who had come to visit you. A young girl was standing in the doorway. Her long blond hair was slightly disheveled and the bottom of her white dress was dirty and ripped open.

“You must be the child surprise.”, you stated, after getting up and bidding her inside.

“Cirilla of Cintra.”, she smiled, as she stepped inside,”Geralt sent me to give you this. He said it would help with your exhaustion.”

You looked at her curiously, as she handed you a small bottle of potion. You gingerly took it and inspected it´s contents. After recognizing the mixture, you quickly downed it in one sip. Mere seconds after, you already felt it working. Your eyes didn´t feel as heavy anymore and your limbs stopped aching a bit.

“Thank you Cirilla.”, you finally said and gifted the young girl a soft smile.  

She only nodded and was about to leave, as you gently grabbed her wrist. She turned around perplexed.

You cleared your throat once more, before finally speaking again:”Geralt told me that…that Eskel was a bit rude with you, upon arriving here at Kaer Morhen.”

“He wasn't exactly the nicest.”, she admitted after you finally let go of her hand.

“I want to apologize for his behavior”, you sighed, rubbing your neck,”He isn't usually like this. He didn't even let me touch him, after he was injured. This infection…it did something to him, changed him.”

Cirilla didn't say anything, but instead stepped closer to the bed, Eskel was lying in. She inspected him carefully, her eyes wandering over his exhausted body. 

“I really hope that he will wake up again. I would like to meet the real Eskel.”, she uttered and turned around to you with a smile. “Yeah, me too.”, you mumbled weakly. You were really missing your soft Witcher. The way he always smiled at you with his big eyes, the way his hands felt on your skin, his lips on yours, his gentle voice, as he mumbled sweet nothing into your ear in the early mornings. You just wanted him to wake up again.

“Hey?”, Ciri asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She must have noticed how shaken up you were, “He'll be alright. You saved him, right?”

You only nodded, slowly petting her shoulder:”You should go to sleep now. It's late and you must be tired, after all this ruckus.”

“You should get some sleep too.”, she smiled softly before leaving the room. You threw one last glance her way, before the door finally closed and the room was silent again.

At least for a few moments.

Your head shot up, as you heard groaning coming from the bed. That could only mean one thing: Eskel was awake.

You quickly made your way over to the bed and you would be lying if you said, your heart didn't skip a beat. There he was. He was alive and well. His heartbeat going steady and his breath a little shallow, but also very much there. 

As he looked up and his eyes landed on you, you couldn't hold yourself back any longer. you stepped forward, kneeling down on the side of the bed, your arms pulling Eskel into a massive hug.

“Woah there, bug. It's alright, I'm here.”, Eskel affirmed, as you buried your face  in his shoulder,”I'm here with you.” 

“Yeah”, you sniffled, a few lonely tears rolling down your cheeks. You finally parted to get a good look at him. Frankly, he still looked unbelievably tired. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes and you noticed that he moved with a bit of discomfort. “What happened, bug?”, he suddenly asked you, now fully sitting up against the headrest.

“The leshy.”, you mumbled, reaching out for his hand. He gladly intertwined his fingers with yours. “It infected you, after we fought against it.”

“Fuck, I think I remember now.”, he hissed,”I'm so sorry. The things I said, I did. I was such an arsehole, wasn´t I?”

“Well, Ciri certainly thinks so.”, you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But Eskel didn't laugh. Instead he lifted his hand to softly grasp your cheek. He gently wiped away your tears, but new ones were already coming, upon feeling his soft touch again.

“I am sorry.”, he said firmly,”Thank you for saving my ass.” “Of course.”, you assured,”I would do anything for you. I love you.” “I love you, bug”, Eskel mumbled, pulling you back into his chest. A small sigh left your lips, after settling against his body. You finally allowed yourself to rest, after so many hours of being completely on edge. Eskel was alive. You did, in fact, save him. 

“Rest.”, you heard him whisper into your ear, as he pulled you closer to his body. His warmth spreading welcoming you, after he pulled the blanket over you.

“You deserve it.”

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

This is going to be a Dec 2023/Jan 2024 update, since the hols and this new year so far has been hella busy! So, here's what these two dummies have been up to: >>> Apparently, Stiles and Derek can be either really helpful or weird when taking them on errands. My first car trip with them, Stiles decided to "hide" by jumping off of the seat. I couldn't find him for five minutes. 🙄 Derek was not pleased and got all growly. >>> Stiles begged for forgiveness and redeemed himself by working with Derek to find me some risotto at the grocery store...the LAST bag of butternut squash risotto. I'll take it. Instantly forgiven. 🎉 >>> They also befriended the kitchen gnome.

>>> Sterek have matching Christmas shirts (and yeah they have sweats too). Stiles got a skateboard! >>> They can also fit in a teacup together, which apparently makes a great spot for making out. >>> Christmas was very kind, gifting Stiles and Derek fox and wolf capes! Each cape also has snaps to make it easier to slip it on and off (and to make the sleeves). SOOO FLUFFYYY! I'm in love! 💖 >>> Andddd now they are currently chilling as little ghostie monsters, who have wings, horns and tails?!! I think this is my fav set of capes for them because the detailing is amazing, and hell yes to cozy spooky vibes and soft life. @mrkgrl, thanks for the encouragement to dress Stiles and Derek up! Shopping for them has been super fun, and knowing that they're looking smashing in each outfit has been even better. I really hope the kids coming over for DnD this weekend don't kidnap them because of their cuteness. If you'd like to follow Sterek on more mini adventures, stay updated with the #stereksmolshots tag!

[donaweasley]

I Will Find You (Part 02)

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Asgardian!Reader

Plot:

Loki was back; but he’s gone again. And things have become worse than ever. Will it be possible to find a home again?

Part 1 to be found here

Warnings: Angst, smut (with a happy ending).

Read time: ~23 mins

Minors: DO NOT INTERACT! Please, sweeties, you’ll have your time for reading mature themes soon. It’s just not now. 🙂

Note: This is my first time writing smut and I’m totally freaking out!! It’s just not my zone, and I know it! So, please bear with me and leave me honest feedback if I should continue trying smutty things or should just leave it here.

They reached New Asgard almost two days after the incident. They would have probably reached the next night had (Y/N) not insisted on waiting there until Loki returned. Thor was exhausted both mentally and physically; he lost the battle and had no other choice but to wait with his headstrong sister in the cold.

(Y/N) could no longer feel him the way she had been able to all these years. But she was adamant; and the shock of losing Loki again made her more so. She believed that Loki could see her even if she could not see him. And she wanted him to see her sufferings, to understand what he had been putting her through, to realise his mistakes, and to come back.

But that never happened.

Dawn broke, and the light of the new day held every broken piece clear before her. Her obstinacy was not leading her anywhere. And then there was Thor, whose broken pieces were collected and smashed on the cold, hard floor again, only to shatter them further, with no hope of ever being put together again.

It was for his sake that she finally agreed to head home. Home! She did not even know what home was like anymore.

The next few days saw things getting worse than ever. (Y/N) became quieter but aggravating. Even Thor, whose smile could ease almost any situation she was in, could not decide how to approach her; walking on eggshells became a regular with the people around her.

The day things worsened was when (Y/N) shouted at the brother-like man in a drunken stupor.

When nothing could ease her pain, she resorted to alcohol, with the Valkyrie for company. The latter tried to push her away but she was resolute. After days of seeing (Y/N) wasting away, Thor decided to step in, but was met with a resentment that he had never imagined coming from her.

"I'm sorry to say this, Brunnhilde, but your drinking habits are getting you nowhere. And now you have dragged (Y/N) with you," he interrupted them one evening.

Before the Valkyrie could open her mouth in defence, a drunk (Y/N) rose to her feet, and staggered towards the older Odinson.

"No one has dragged me anywhere! Whatever I do, I do it on my own! And Who are you to say, huh? You drown your failures and your sorrows in alcohol all day. You shun away from your people and play some stupid game on your dumb box with your dumb friends. You, of all people, have no authority to preach others what to do and what not to do! You Odinsons…fuck you both! You have always lived your lives on your own terms, and never thought about the misery you cause others!! So, you, big, giant, warrior king Thor… please do not come stomping into my life, telling me how to live when you are living a life worse than death every single day!"

Brunnhilde managed to drag her back but not before the harm was done.

The next morning, a soft knock on Thor's door woke him up. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to open it, rubbing his eyes in the process.

He wasn't very surprised to find a sobered up (Y/N) waiting on the other side, with a tray of breakfast in her hands.

Without a word, he stepped aside, making room for her to enter. The place reeked of alcohol but who was she to complain now?

Gently placing the tray on the table, she turned towards him, only to find him disappearing underneath the sheets again.

"Forgive me for what I said yesterday. I was…"

"You were right," a muffled voice floated from inside the covers. "Why are you sorry for stating the truth?"

"Because that is not true, Thor! We both know I was out of my mind. It was not me but my anger talking, and… I am sorry, Thor. Please forgive me…if you can."

She turned to leave but a woeful call of her name made her stop.

"Please do not make yourself suffer because we failed you. You are worth much more."

She said nothing.

"Please get up and have food. Real food. Otherwise you will keep belching all day."

Almost two weeks had passed since they had returned from Tromsø. She made sure not to lash out at anybody anymore, but that also meant bottling everything up until at night when, in the company of darkness and solitude, she let all her emotions out through streams of tears that pooled onto her pillow.

It was another such night; insomnia was a regular visitor now. The rest of the village had fallen into a deep slumber but she sat awake with a book in hand, trying hard to decipher the simple words that her eyes ran over again and again. But her mind was elsewhere, as usual.

Suddenly, what seemed to be like a gentle tap on the door startled her. Her ears perked up. But there was no other sound. Dismissing it to be a figment of her imagination, she returned to her attempts at focusing on the book.

A few seconds later, it was there again. This time it was a clear knock - soft but clear.

Grabbing the hilt of her knife in one hand, she opened the door slightly. The sight before her made her freeze.

Loki was standing just beyond the threshold. The same look of exhaustion reigned in his entirety as she had seen almost a fortnight ago.

On one hand, she wanted to open the door wide and pull him inside and in a warm hug; she wanted her tears to wash all the pain away. On the other hand, she wanted to slash his throat open with the blade she held.

"Can you forgive me?" Loki's eyes pleaded with her.

She said nothing for a while but simply stared at him. The hand which held the knife wrapped so tightly around the hilt that her knuckles turned white.

"Can you forgive me if I shut the door on your face now?" She replied with an eerie calmness.

Loki's eyes cast downwards as he sighed. "I believe I would deserve that."

Silently, she opened the door wide enough for Loki to step inside. When he still stood outside, unsure whether to take the step or not, she spat, "Are you just going to stand there and let the cold wind rush in or are you going to do something?"

Nodding lightly, he stepped inside the cottage while (Y/N) closed the door.

Loki was home again. Or was he?

"I shall run a warm bath for you. Give me a moment."

He tried to call her but the name evaporated into an empty room as she ignored him and left.

She returned after a while, the same indifference stamped on her face.

"The bath is ready. You should find everything you need at hand. You may leave your clothes on the rack. I shall be back in a while."

"Where are you going?"

"To get some clothes for you. Despite what some might think, I do not have any man's clothes in my house."

Before Loki could utter a word, she exited the house, closing the door in her wake.

The damage that he had done lay bare before his eyes. A few moments of doubt and insecurity tore down everything that they had built over the years.

By the time she returned with a bunch of fresh but borrowed laundry, the house was quiet. She assumed that Loki was still in the bath.

"Are you still in there?" She asked with a small tap on the bathroom door.

"Uh...yes! Yes, I am."

"Try not to fall asleep in there. There are better ways to die than drowning in a bathtub."

Loki emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, a towel wrapped around his torso. She noticed that he had become thinner. A few faint scratches and small bruises marked his ivory skin here and there, especially his limbs. One particularly large and prominent bruise beside his right knee made her breath hitch.

Old habits urged her to run and wrap herself around him, to soothe all his pains, to kiss him all over and make love to him until they both fell asleep entangled in one another.

But recent events chained her from doing so. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she averted her eyes.

"There is a set of clean clothes on the bed. They may not fit perfectly but that is all I could manage in the middle of the night. I shall get you a new wardrobe tomorrow morning."

"(Y/N)!" Loki tried to stop her from walking away. "Please! Can I get one moment with you? Please?"

She still refused to look at him. "Have something first. And then we shall talk."

Loki stared at her as she disappeared into the kitchen. He had set this up for himself. And he should be the one fixing this, if only he could get a chance to.

As Loki had already assumed, dinner was unusually quiet. There wasn't much on the table - he did not expect anything at all in those late hours, especially after what he had done - but everything that was served smelled delicious. The fact that (Y/N) had prepared it all herself made them all the more special for him.

She sat quietly on the opposite end of the small table.

Clearing his throat, he asked timidly, "I know that you might have already had your meal but…will not have anything? You like midnight snacks, do you not?"

"Used to. And I am full anyway. You may start."

This was not going anywhere; at least not this way. He needed to give her more time, he realised.

Taking a deep breath, he took the first bite. Instinctively, his eyes closed and a moan left his sealed lips. He was starving and the food tasted divine in his mouth.

As (Y/N) observed him, a tiny smile surfaced on her stern features. But she quickly hid it before Loki opened his eyes.

Who knows how long he might have been starving!

The thought made her shiver. Her eyes almost welled up but she fought her emotions back, trying her best not to reveal herself before him.

"You are an exceptional cook!"

But Loki's compliment was met with another sharp response.

"I am average. It is only because you are famished that you find it good."

Loki did not utter another word until the meal was finished.

"Thank you, (Y/N), for having me."

His words did stop her in her tracks but she said nothing.

"Please, (Y/N)."

Loki placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and the next thing that he felt was the sharp sting of cold metal on his Adam's apple.

Her face was inches away from his. She wore a facade of anger and hatred but her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"If you wish to kill me, I shall not fight," he spoke without wincing. "But please, I beg of you, do not alienate me. Do not push me away, please, love! I have suffered enough. And in that, I have made you suffer, too. Forgive me, (Y/N). Can you?"

"You said I did not deserve you," her hand shook just like her voice did. "You snapped our bond. You did not trust me. You accused me of infidelity when you know how much I love you!"

"I am sorry, love. I truly am! I… I saw you both together and… I do not know! I am sorry!" A tear rolled down his bony cheek.

"But you did not come back." The tears that had been held back were now cascading down her face.

"I did! I did but… I did not know how to face you. Or Thor. For eleven days and nights I roamed in and out of your village. I did not show myself to anyone lest they should tell you."

"And would that have been so bad?"

"I did not know how you would react. Or if you would have me. But then-"

"Then what?" The words came out but in whispers.

"I could not take it anymore. I had to come to you even if you kicked me out or killed me."

"I…" Words failed her. Everything became a blur as a tsunami of emotions tossed violently within her.

"Please accept me, (Y/N)," Loki's eyes bore into hers. "Please tell me that you still love me."

They did not realise when they had come so close that the words were almost breathed on each other's mouths. The knife that was held to his throat dropped to the floor with a sharp clang, and it was only then that they noticed their proximity.

She was unsure whether to act on her desires or to bring her ego between them.

"Please love me, (Y/N)!"

How could she say no to that plea?

Shoving her ego aside, she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer, immediately pressing her lips to his. They remained that way for a few seconds before moving with an impatience and a fervour that would have set the cottage aflame. His hands snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Loki tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against hers constantly in a harmonious dance. He tasted of apple pie. She tasted of cheap alcohol.

Her weight on him and the force with which she was kissing him, although immensely pleasurable, made him take a few steps backwards, thus making him hit the table. Bracing himself with his left hand, he regained his balance, and then mapped the said hand along her sides, remembering every curve along the way.

With a gentle push of his body, he took a few steps forward until their paths were blocked by a wall. Pinning her to it with his weight, he continued the ministrations of his mouth while his hands trailed the column of her neck, eventually causing one of them to get lost in her hair. The same happened to her: one hand felt the hardness and the warmth of his chest while the other was tangled in his dark locks. A quick tug on the hair at the nape of his neck resulted in a soft moan from the god: a blissful music to her ears!

When they finally tired themselves out, momentarily though, did they stop. Panting hard, breathing into each other's mouths, they remained still: bodies limp against one another, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing as they basked in the afterglow of their session.

"Tell me that you love me," Loki wished just loud enough for her to hear.

"Of course, I love you, you oaf!" She chuckled breathily. "Never doubt it. Ever!"

"It was a mistake I cannot forgive myself for."

"Now shut that beautiful mouth and come to bed," she slowly pulled herself away from his embrace. "You need rest. A lot of it."

"I do not. Not now. I need to love you," Loki insisted. "Please let me love you!"

"Believe me, I want to do nothing else but make sweet love to you." Loki's face brightened at the confession. "But that must wait. You need to heal first."

Seeing his frown, she laughed. It was just like old times again.

"Lie down with me?" She asked with a smile.

The god tried to protest but the yawn that broke through him declared otherwise.

Almost the entire night, or whatever was left of it, (Y/N) watched Loki: his bare chest rising and falling in the moonlight, like the sea during the tides, his hair splayed on the pillow challenging the night with its dark lustre. The mouth that had been kissing her passionately was now slightly parted. The movement beneath his closed eyelids spoke of some distant dream that he might be having. She silently prayed that it would be a good dream, one worth remembering.

The soft hum of the sea outside, paired with the cool light of the moon seemed to bring back the magic that was them.

And yet there was something off. The hollow of his cheeks were deeper than usual, his eyes were sunken and there were dark circles under them. And then there were the scars and bruises. She wondered what unimaginable pain he might have had to go through all this time. Questions regarding his escape from the ship, his whereabouts and other things spiralled her down an unfathomable hole, exhausting her mind thoroughly in the process.

(Y/N) did not realise when she had drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, she found the comfortable weight of an arm around her waist. Sleep-laden eyes opened to find a pair of green orbs staring at her face with an adoration that almost made her cry. Soft sunlight peeked in through the curtains, lighting the room up with a heavenly glow. Or was it the presence of the god that made it all so special?

She did not know. She did not care. Loki was with her. She was in his arms. That was all that mattered. Everything else had to be beautiful!

"Did you sleep well?" Loki's deep voice, accentuated by the raspiness of sleep, floated into her ears like ethereal music.

"I did. After a long, long time, I did sleep well. And you?"

"Same here." His face contorted as he tried to stifle an obstinate yawn.

(Y/N) giggled, "Just let it out!" And he obeyed.

For a long while they lay awake, simply looking at each other, tracing lazy patterns on one another, neither willing to put an end to the moment.

"I cannot believe I finally found you," Loki smiled.

"You always do," she played with a strand of his hair.

"First things first," he said and placed his fingers against her temple.

She felt the same tingling sensation that she had felt years ago when Loki had shared his magic with her.

"Do you feel me now?" He asked with a soft smile.

"More than ever!" A tear escaped down the corner of her eye.

Loki leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her mouth, followed by another, and another, until they were both entangled with each other, their lips and tongues caressing the other ardently.

His hand grazed the length of bare skin on her legs until he was met with the hem of her pyjama shorts. Pushing past the barrier, his fingers trailed upwards. Her breath hitched when his hand rolled over and squeezed her clothed ass.

"Loki…" She moaned breathily as her tongue gently traced the column of his neck until she found that sweet spot below his ear that always turned him into jelly. There, she left a small bite, immediately soothing it with a lap of her tongue.

The groan that left Loki urged her to explore the skin of his shoulder, down his collarbone and onto his chest. She left small, open-mouthed kisses as she moved downwards, taking the skin between her teeth here and there, earning her precious rewards of hisses and groans from Loki. Moving upwards, she gently rolled a nipple between her teeth, and watched as Loki's head rolled backwards.

"Still sensitive, are we?" She smirked while Loki looked at her with lust-filled eyes, his gorgeous mouth hanging open in anticipation.

(Y/N) worked her tongue and teeth on his chest, making him produce all kinds of sinful sounds, before moving south again. Meanwhile Loki's hands moved across her back, trying hard to peel the t-shirt off her but failing.

Amidst all the lust and need, her mind worried about the marks on his otherwise perfect skin.

What were they? What happened? How?

But she did not want the moment to be ruined. Carefully threading her way through the marks, she carried on her path of desire.

“Tell me if I hurt you, will you?” She smiled at him.

“You can never hurt me,” he rasped.

“Just tell me if I do,” she insisted, and he nodded.

Before long she found the trail of dark hair that led to the treasure they had both been awaiting. The bulge in his sweatpants was inviting. But instead of giving Loki what he wanted, she continued her trail of kisses over his clothed skin, her thumb exploring the secrets just beneath the waistband. This continued for a while, making Loki even more frustrated. 

Just as she was about to hook her fingers under the band of the pants, she was flipped. With a squeal, she landed on the mattress, with Loki hovering over her.

"You have been a tease for quite long, darling," he growled. Oh, how she loved that sound! "Now, it is my turn. But first, this has to go." He tugged the t-shirt that she was wearing.

"Do not tear it, please!" (Y/N) quickly held his wrist before he could rip it in shreds. "I do not have many," she confessed with a sad smile.

Loki's eyes softened at the admission. "I will not."

Gently, and with her help, he pushed the garment up and over her arms, until it was lying on the floor.

The sight before him made him groan. Bending down, he buried his face in her naked chest and inhaled her scent, followed by a soft kiss. Slowly but intentionally, his hands mapped her breasts, kneading and squeezing them. His tongue and teeth played with the taut bundles on top making her whimper and squirm beneath him, until he released her with a small pop!

With hands still locked on the swells of her chest, his mouth made its way downwards, the curls on his head leaving a feathery tickle in their wake.

"May I?" He asked with his fingers hooked under the band of her shorts.

"Stop being a tease!!" She whined, making him laugh.

But Loki had to be a tease. He pulled the band down as slow as possible, kissing every inch of skin that was being exposed in the process.

"Damn you!" She cursed.

This made him finally whisk away the fabric, adding it with the other discarded piece.

"You are so gorgeous!" His breath, hot on her mound, made her rub her thighs together.

"No, darling, keep them open for me." He gently parted them with his hands, and lowered his head.

"Loki!" It was not a moan or a whine. It was a call that made him look at her with worry.

"Not now," she pleaded. "I need you right now. Please!"

"Good. For I cannot bear this any longer."

By the time Loki got rid of the pants, (Y/N) was sitting on her knees, unable to hold herself anymore. Hugging her tight, he brought her on his lap, and kissed her passionately, grinding himself on her wet folds all the time.

Hoisting her up, he aligned himself with her and slowly brought her down until he was fully sheathed in her. Closing their eyes, they both relished the feeling for a few seconds - the feeling of being one, of being complete, of reliving all similar memories that they had created together back in Asgard.

She latched her mouth to his, and slowly started moving. It was slow, unhurried, unlike their state of mind a couple of minutes ago, and like the movement of their tongues in that very moment. She could feel him everywhere, inside her, outside her, as though she was enveloped in him. After all these years, she felt a sharp sting at the stretch. But it was a pain she was willing to bear everyday if it meant that she could be with Loki.

(Y/N) rotated her hips leisurely, while Loki placed open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. Eventually, she started increasing her pace, turning his kisses into grazes of teeth.

That was until Loki could take no more. Digging his fingers into her hips, he took control of her movements. This new manoeuvre left her empty with only the tip inside before he slammed into her, reaching her deepest parts. A loud scream escaped her as he touched her most sensitive parts.

Loki shushed her. He panted between his thrusts, "You…do not…want…the…village…to-"

"I cannot help it!" She shouted.

That very moment, her walls fluttered around him, and a loud animalistic groan escaped him.

"See?" She smirked.

Loki locked his mouth with hers, both of them moaning and panting into each other, muffling the sounds that should have remained only within the confines of their chambers.

"Touch yourself!" Loki commanded.

When she did not obey, he admitted, "I shall not last long. Please, love, touch yourself. I want to come with you."

This time she did as was asked, reaching between their sweaty bodies, rubbing herself as Loki incessantly rocked her and slammed into her. Biting on the sensitive skin on his neck she let out a guttural moan as the coil in her stomach tightened. Her walls clenched around him, making him cry out her name. His movements became sloppy and so did hers. Holding her tight and burying his face in her shoulder, he pushed into her a few more times before asking her to let go, finding his own release with her.

They remained still for a while, catching their breath, floating in bliss and peppering each other with kisses wherever possible. At length, she pulled away but just enough to give him a long kiss on the mouth.

"Do these hurt?" She lightly traced his scars.

He shook his head slowly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not now."

Nodding, she pressed another kiss to his lips. A confusion spread across her face when Loki wrapped her legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" She smiled.

"Hold on tight."

"What-"

Her question was left incomplete as Loki grabbed her ass with one hand and, balancing himself with the other hand, got off the bed with her.

"We do not want to spoil the sheets, do we?" A mischievous glint shone in his eyes. "And… I was feeling sort of lonely in the bath yesterday. Would you like to join me?"

"Certainly!" She kissed him as he carried her to the bathroom, still buried inside her.

—-----

"It is time we told Thor. And everyone for that matter," (Y/N) said while preparing brunch.

Before Loki could answer, a loud knock startled them.

"Lady (Y/N)," Thor's voice boomed, "it has been quite late and you have not been out of your house. Are you feeling unwell?"

"Let me handle this," Loki, clad in the clothes from the previous night, sauntered towards the door.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. "Hello, brother!"

The said brother stood still like a statue for a few seconds before landing a hard punch to the younger one's face.

Hearing someone stumble, (Y/N) came running to the scene to see Thor pull Loki into a bear hug. He was sobbing.

"It is good to see you, too, brother," Loki smiled and patted his back.

Home was indeed beautiful.

------------------------------------------

***

In case you haven't read Part 01, here it is.

Please, please LIKE and REBLOG if you have enjoyed this! Your COMMENTS and LOVE are my motivations!! 🙂

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[symbologic]

Luffy vs. Zoro at Whiskey Peak

Unpopular opinion maybe, but the Luffy vs. Zoro clash in Whiskey Peak made sense for their characters. You could even argue that it was bound to happen, given their personalities.

Luffy likes the people who feed him. In the the face of their suffering, no matter who's responsible, he's too angry to concern himself with the reasons behind it. Zoro, on the other hand, prefers to handle things independently without saying much about it, especially if it means his crew gets to enjoy themselves a little longer

So it's not really surprising that Luffy would be blindsided by finding their hosts cut up by his swordsman, and that this would send him flying into a fit of rage. If he's never paused to listen to context or backstories before now, why would he start here? And of course, Zoro is not the type to back down from a challenge. He will match Luffy's energy and respond in kind

"But if Luffy were a good captain, he would have stopped to listen to Zoro's side of the story." Vivi tells him he's a bad captain two arcs later, precisely because of this kind of behavior. It clearly leaves an impression on Luffy, and we see he's grown into a better leader by the time he reaches Amazon Lily. (Almost as if Oda set all this development up on purpose with Whiskey Peak. HMM...)

"But Luffy refused to believe that Nami had killed Usopp in Arlong Park." This argument is like comparing apples to oranges. Nami did not actually do the murder that Johnny and Yosaku claim they saw, nor is she capable of killing people in cold blood. Of course Luffy isn't going to believe Nami killed Usopp based on hearsay. But in Whiskey Peak, Zoro did cut those bounty hunters. Luffy sees the evidence for himself, and he knows the carnage Zoro is capable of inflicting once he puts his mind to it. There is no denying what happened. Nothing other than Zoro saying "someone else did this" (or Nami knocking the soul out of him) was going to stop Luffy from going ballistic

"Why would Luffy fight so hard to recruit Zoro into his crew, firmly believing that he wasn't a bad person, only to later attack him because he believed Zoro was capable of harming 'innocent' people?" Because the fight was never about whether their hosts were "innocent" or not, not really. Their fight was about what Zoro did (assaulting the ones who fed them), and how those actions made Luffy feel (mad as hell, because these people FED THEM) For Luffy, context did not actually matter at that moment in time because, for him, "they fed me" unequivocally means "they're my friend", full stop This is even shown again in Mocktown! Both when Luffy unquestioningly eats an apple from Doc Q, and when Bellamy buys Luffy a drink in Mocktown. In the first case, Luffy only lived because he was lucky. And in the second case, he assumes Bellamy is a good person despite all evidence to the contrary, only to have his face brutally smashed into the bartop by Bellamy. Luffy is shockingly bad at reading people who try to feed him.

Luffy has interpersonal conflicts with all the core members from East Blue at different times. The fight with Zoro is the only one instigated by Luffy. But surprisingly, their fight highlights their similarities instead of their differences. They still fight equally and work together against BW agents who try to interfere with their fight.

I think that's what Oda wanted to showcase with this scene.

In short, Luffy's initial anger stemmed from his protectiveness towards those who have fed him, while Zoro's actions were driven by his dedication to the crew and subsequent refusal to back down from Luffy's challenge. It was a clash resulting from miscommunication and misunderstanding, something that is not typically a problem for them — until it suddenly becomes one When all is said and done, they're both quick to forgive and forget. This, too, is fitting for both their characters. From that point onward, Zoro continues to demonstrate that Luffy's trust is not misplaced. And Luffy never, ever doubts Zoro again after this

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 13/05/2024

Stickerbrush Queen

Season 1 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume L [Side A]

Ripped by toonlink

EIGHT. Years later. And we're still jammin'. I can't believe I missed the anniversary to such a historic part of the channel's legacy. I hope the world can forgive me for being a whole day late and that we can all recover from this scandal together.

Stickerbush Symphony is one of the most revered songs within VGM to a degree I don't think I can describe accurately. The original version from Donkey Kong Country 2 is still arguably David Wise's magnum opus and continues to touch hearts everywhere through its various YouTube reuploads, wheras the equally-beautiful remix in Super Smash Bros. Brawl has its hooks in an entire generation of Wii kids who are forever attached to the theme through its prominence in the Subspace Emissary campaign. It of course has a huge presence on SiIvaGunner too, one I've covered multiple times before, most notably in Sidelined Symphony. Yet the song's presence on SiIvaGunner has branched out into something entirely different, an outright franchise of bangers based on the already banging Brawl remix - all of which started with Stickerbrush Queen.

Yes, you'll have to forgive me for Toonlink-glazing once again...it's likely that not even this will be his final appearance on here, but it genuinely cannot be overemphasized just how much of Season 1's spirit was defined by his contributions. Rips like The Great Weed and Dr. Soulja are just quintessential SiIvaGunner to me, and were my go-to rips to share back in 2016, their comedic timing near unmatched, but Toonlink's versatility as a ripper extended to genuine bangers as well. Case and point - Stickerbrush Queen, the first-ever rip of Brawl's interpretation of Bramble Blast, and one that hit the nail on the head right away with an utmost brilliant idea - to use the track as the backing beat to a rap mashup. Whether or not you have attachment to Trap Queen or Fetty Wap before listening doesn't matter - the two halves of the rip lift each other up in such perfect harmony, that it starts to feel wrong to listen to them in isolation afterward.

In my eyes, a huge part of what makes the mashup work is that its playing to the traits of Trap Queen rather than lifting it into a completely different environment - its beat in the original version has a very similar bright, sparkly sound to Brawl's Bramble Blast, and the contrast between it and the vocals are likely part of how Trap Queen was envisioned. More drastic tone changes in rap mashups can certainly bang, I fucking love Sweatpants Select for that very reason, yet there's something just so elegant about how Stickerbrush Queen does it - it still FEELS different, the Bramble Blast instrumental is undeniably emotional, yet its able to balance itself out through the steady rhythm of Trap Queen's vocals. The break in the middle of the rip, at around a minute in, hits extra hard though - the instrumental additions to Trap Queen changing in turn make it such a memorable part of the whole and unify the two songs amazingly well.

Being uploaded so early into the channel's very first season, during the period of time in which EVERYONE's eyes were on this weird new music uploading channel, Stickerbrush Queen slowly garnered a sort of legendary reputation. Perhaps that was just my view of things, but it was one that got validated more and more as the channel went on. More Bramble Blast and Stickerbush Symphony rips were made over the months and years, ones like Stickerbrush State of Mind and more, that all felt like they were paying tribute to the very beginnings of it all. Eventually, those tributes would become direct - The premiere to Season 6 of the channel, Bramble Blast Collab, includes direct nods to this one rip, and its only one of several examples - most notably, a direct tribute to it on Season 7's RIP² album. This release, 7 YEARS LATER AND WE STILL JAMMIN', is of course also notable for referencing perhaps what the rip is most known for these days - the persistence of one sole commenter who returns to Stickerbrush Queen once a year on its anniversary to remind everyone that, yes, all these years later we ARE still jammin'.

Eight years, huh...that's nutty to think about - and yet even with its age, this one sole rip continues to be referenced all over the place on the channel. Stickerbush Symphony, Bramble Blast,whatever you want to call it (even StickerBRUSH Symphony if you're wrong), continues to live on, celebrated as the legendary piece of VGM it always has been - yet the contribution Toonlink made to its legacy all those years ago feels everpresent in a way that's really fun to see - almost EVERYONE following the channel has heard that one mashup at one point or another. Be it the aforementioned direct arrangement of it on RIP², or this fucking stupid tweet that blew up around the rip's fifth anniversary...its the kind of rip that just brings the community together any time we get to hear a trace of it. The definition of an enduring classic - and yes, we are STILL Jammin'.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

5 for your spotify playlist fic pls ❤️

This is one of my favorite KoL songs. The lore is that Caleb wrote this whole thing rather intoxicated and so it was done in one recording initially. There’s this shiny, hopeless quality to the song which led me to…vampires.

Pierre drinks at the same bar.

It doesn’t matter that there’s only the one.

He’s here every Friday night, seated in the corner, nursing a half dozen beers until they kick him out.

It’s a habit he doesn’t particularly enjoy, but one he’ll continue until - well, he doesn’t like to consider just how long he might be doing this.

But, he supposes, this is the madness of a lovesick man. One who has seen all that life has to offer and still chooses this. Still chooses to wait.

Because Pierre had been all over. He’d photographed sunsets over mountains in countries that forced the FBI to detain and question him. He had photographs in magazines and exhibits and coffee table books.

Pierre was well traveled.

- is well traveled.

But somehow he’s always back here at this bar on a Friday night, waiting in the same corner as he was five years ago.

Because that is when Pierre’s life really changed.

When he was sat in the bar of his dying hometown - visiting with his brother, listening to his high school friends tell him about the state diverting the highway around them and how it was going to cost the town millions.

And then Charles had walked in.

Pierre knew who and what he had been immediately - had met a vampire in Portugal of all places, but no one else had known what he was.

Pierre had.

And maybe that’s why Charles picked him.

Maybe it was the fact that when Charles smiled, his eyes crinkled up on the sides and Pierre hadn’t been able to help himself when he lifted his fingertips to his skin.

Maybe it was the photos that Pierre had of sunrises plastered on his tiny apartment walls.

Pierre had taken him home that night, tipsy on well whiskey his brother insisted on buying him and the way Charles muscles underneath his hands had felt like marble.

It doesn’t matter what it was.

Not anymore.

It was beautiful and all encompassing and Charles had sworn to Pierre that he wouldn’t be alone. That Charles would love him until the end of time and beyond.

And Pierre still believes it.

Because Charles didn’t take the photographs when he left.

And to Pierre.

To Pierre that means Charles still trusts him - that he still loves him.

Pierre knows that Charles meant it because he would have taken the photographs with him when he went. He wouldn’t have allowed Pierre to keep those blurry, overexposed photos the two of them had taken with a timer in the desert. Or the ones of Charles in Pierre’s kitchen, making Pierre spinach and egg omelets to keep Pierre’s iron up.

He wouldn’t have allowed Pierre to keep the photographs of the two of them, curled up in the moonlight - Charles looking every bit of the ethereal creature he is.

Pierre waits for him to come back because Charles had made him promises about taking him home to France.

Showing him his home there - ancient and lifeless he had called it.

Pierre waits because Charles had loved him and made him feel alive and he knows - he knows - what they had together transcends everything.

What they HAVE.

Pierre sips his beer and he half listens to some story David tells him until David mentions Pierre’s niece - something about smashing mailboxes out on 239.

And that’s why Pierre misses it.

The door opening.

The door opening and the whole place going into that hushed quiet whisper.

Pierre might miss the door opening, but he feels it in his blood - like his body knew and alerted him immediately to -

“Sorry,” Charles’ voice is soft as he slips into the chair beside Pierre, scooting it closer to his silently, “I got held up at a festival in Italy, but -“

Pierre reaches over and takes his hand and the whole bar goes back to normal volume. Like they’ve accepted Pierre’s forgiveness for Charles leaving him heartbroken here for two years. Or maybe they think the two of them have been seeing each other this whole time - Pierre flying off to see him.

“Cha,” Pierre says. Quiet and low, but it still sounds too loud for this place. “Want to go back to mine?”

Charles eyes shine as he nods and Pierre brings Charles hand up to his chest, splaying his hand over Pierre’s beating heart.

“Let’s go home.”

They have shit to work out, but they have forever to do it.

Here or France or Thailand or Uruguay.

It doesn’t matter to him. Not when Charles repeats it back to him.

“Let’s go home.”

[joprompts]

sweeney todd: the demon barber of fleet street lyric starters. act two. starters from the musical. adjust as necessary.

over here, boy, how about some ale?

more hot pies!

and what's your pleasure, dearie?

oops! i beg your pardon! just me hands is smeary—!

god, that's good!

what's my secret? frankly, dear — forgive my candor — family secret.

but we have to prepare!

is that a chair fit for a king?

i have a few minor adjustments to make.

you take your time.

me heart's aflutter!

i am in the dark beside you.

i'd want you beautiful and pale, the way i've dreamed you were.

i think we shall not meet again, my little dove. my sweet.

you're gone and yet you're mine.

city on fire!

i still have reason to rejoice. the way ahead to clear.

it's always morning in my mind.

i knew you'd come for me one day.

you stay the way i've dreamed you are.

oh, look! a star! a shooting star!

and though i'll think of you, i guess, until the day i die, i think i miss you less and less as every day goes by.

if only angels could prevail, we'd be the way we were.

wake up! another bright, red day!

we learn to say goodbye.

i'm so happy.

i could eat you up, i really could!

you know what i'd like to do, what i dream?

don't you want to know?

by the sea, that's the life i covet.

oh, i know you'd love it!

wouldn't that be smashing?

with the sea at our gate, we'll have kippered herring wot have swum to us straight from the straits of bering.

unless we've got better to do.

think how snug it'll be underneath our flannel when it's just you and me and the english channel.

we'll have chums over every friday.

don't you love the weather?

we'll grow old together.

oh, i can see us now — in our bathing dresses — you in a nice navy — and me, stripes perhaps. hmm.

but a seaside wedding could be devised.

you know, mum, there's nothing i wouldn't do for you. 

if there was a monster or an ogre or anything bad like that wot was after you, i'd rip it apart with my bare fists, i would. 

what a sweet child it is.

here, what is this? what are you talking about?

nothing's gonna harm you, not while i'm around.

demons are prowling everywhere nowadays. i'll send them howling. i don't care — i got ways.

others can desert you — not to worry, whistle, i'll be there.

demons'll charm you with a smile for a while.

not to worry, i may not be smart, but i ain't dumb!

i can do it. put me to it. show me something i can overcome.

being close and being cleaver ain't like being true.

i would never hide a thing from you like some.

now, let's stop all this foolish chatter and just sit here, nice and quiet. 

i didn't know you was a music lover, too.

when i saw this dear old song book i couldn't resist.

where are you hiding?

but they are after us still. what if they should trace us here? oh, let me come with you!

my darling, there is no safety for you on the street.

the risk is too great.

soon we'll be gone and sailing the seas.

i'll be back before those lips have time to lose that smile. 

oh, she’s the devil’s wife! oh, beware her, sir. beware of her. she, with no pity in her heart. 

hey, don't i know you?

you're in a merry mood today again.

how seldom it is one meets a fellow spirit.

with a fellow taste in women, at least.

have all the demons in hell been sent to torment me?

why did you scream?

no, i never lied!

i've come home again.

you’re a bloody wonder. eminently practical and yet appropriate as always.

as you've said repeatedly, there's little point in dwelling in the past.

come here, my love. not a thing to fear, my love.

what's dead is dead.

everything i did, i swear it was only for the best.

can we still be married?

the history of the world, my pet, is learn forgiveness and try to forget.

and life is for the alive, my dear. so let's keep living it!

to seek revenge may lead to hell.

to seek revenge may lead to hell, but everyone does it and seldom as well.

[theywrites]

“I’ve told you, I am not Kira!” Light swallows the compulsion to smash L’s face hard against the keyboard until he listens. He is supposedly intelligent, and a quick learner, too. Light should not have to hit L too many times before he gets it.

"Get well soon" gift \ In a darker sense Written for #badthingshappenbingo

"How many times do I have to tell you? You already know that I am innocent. Why are you even keeping me here?” He’s probably screeching like a wild animal, but Light can’t help himself. He’s been locked here forever, and they’ve been arguing on this for six straight days. He’s going insane at this rate. And L still refuses to listen to him.

There was no point in Light being here when they both knew that Light is not Kira, while Kira roams free and continues to kill innocent civilians with heart attacks. If Light was Kira, L would confine him so that he cannot communicate with the outside world. He wouldn’t put it beyond L to blind Light to ensure he cannot see any new faces, because the Death Note needs both a face and a name, or sever the tendons of his lower arm to keep him from writing in the Death Note. Likely both, just to be safe.

“Light-kun,” L finally speaks, he’s finished stirring the disgusting coffee that’s more of a sugar sludge. “You might not believe me when I tell you this -” he starts. “But Light-kun is indeed Kira. Which is why you are locked up in here with my surveillance at all times.” L drinks from the teacup, swallows down the liquid. “Actually, if Light-kun knew how lucky he is, he’d thank me for the mercy I’ve granted him by allowing him to continue his life in leisure like this, limited only by these handcuf-”

His knuckle strikes L’s temple before he completes the sentence. The detective gets knocked out of the chair, but he recovers quickly with an upward kick aimed at Light’s chin. Light is lucky he does not bite his tongue, but his teeth clatter together at the impact, and it hurts, and so in vengeance he aims a punch at L’s eyes, staring at him with an equal amount of hatred as he feels towards L in the moment.

How dare he announce that he should thank L? That bastard. Of course, he has no conscience to apologize for confining Light, breaking every national and international law, keeping an adult man cuffed, locked up, imprisoned. And the detective, too stubborn and childish, would never admit he was wrong about Light being Kira. So he’d rather call this situation a privilege to Light. Twisting the truths.

That damn dishonest, immoral liar.

Here Light was, putting up with his behaviour that would have made anyone run away. And the only reason Light didn’t run was because he could not with this 10-meter-long chain consisting of 483 loops connecting them. Instead of leaving, Light is trapped, forced to be driven mad.

He doesn’t stop after he sees L bleeding from his mouth, probably from his teeth, after Light gave him a hard punch against his lower jaw. He is exhilarated by the way L winces, the blood dripping down his chin.

And Light feels a thrill at the sight, at winning, that he does not notice before too late the kick aimed at his head. He falls sideways, his head knocking against the floor as he is knocked out.

The room is dark when he wakes up, and he finds himself in bed. There is a rustle from the chain. L is in the armchair nearby, sitting in his strange posture. He is staring at Light. Light knows, even through the darkness. “Light-kun -”

“I’m going to sleep,” Light turns his back to L and resolves that he’ll ignore the detective. L does not deserve to apologize, Light will not forgive him. The detective can do whatever he wants. If he wants to sit there in the dark and stare at Light, that’s fine by him.

The next days are difficult, because while he knocked loose a tooth or two in L’s mouth, L managed to give him a concussion. And Light had a concussion when he was four, when a boy collided his elbow against his head. His parents had taken him to the emergency room, where they took a scan of his head and concluded he was fine, but might experience fatigue and feel a bit unwell the next couple of days. He didn’t remember having a splitting headache, especially when there were bright lights, and nausea whenever he moved his head too quick. The first day, Light was bedridden, vomiting three times in the morning, then again in the afternoon when he moved too quickly from the bed. He could also not remember a constant, distant chiming in his ears. These restrictions were annoying, and did not help with his feelings towards L. Whenever he saw L now, he either wanted to knock him dead or hoped the detective would choke himself to death on his coffee. More often than not, Light quenched his fury by pretending air occupied the space L was taking. Even worse than the physical consequences of the damage to his head was his muddled mind. When he thinks too much, his mind jumbles up, rendering him incapable of working. And he was in great need of effective work, to find solid proof to throw in L’s face —

The fact that Light Yagami is not Kira.

On the third day his head was getting better, he’d woken up without a headache, and he could enjoy the sunlight behind the blinds. The fog is still clouding his mind. He still refuses to acknowledge L’s existence. However, there is a subtle change, and Light notices. He can feel L’s eyes on him, constantly. When Light get’s up from his PC to eat, L remains seated, staring at Light with dark eyes that betray nothing of what L is thinking. That night, Light finally speaks, when he wakes and sees that L is again squatted in the seat gawking at him like an owl in the dark. “It’s against both the Japanese laws and the International human rights to confine an animal, let alone a human being, you know,” he starts, but L says nothing.

The next day Light wakes up in a white room with no furniture spare an empty bed. Strangely enough, he is no longer handcuffed. His right wrist, because L was ambidextrous and could be shackled on either side but still chose Light’s dominant hand to annoy him, was pale and had a slight imprint from the prolonged time being cuffed by cold metal. It looked naked.

Light is immensely confused, perhaps this is a one of L’s cruel jokes, or one of his tests, to force Light into admitting something he is not. He looks around and notices a small card on the floor beside the bed and picks it up. The card has flowers on the front, it says “Get well soon!” with swirly engraved letters. He opens the card. Something falls out. Light bows down to pick up the small piece of paper—

And he screams.

-- @badthingshappenbingo

A/N: This post might be edited after you read this, and the fic might get posted on ao3 at some point. Basically canon-divergence AU in which L wins, confines Light within the headquarters, and makes sure he loses his memories by not touching the note for 490 days. So in a twisted way L denies Light his identity as Kira, and Light, of course, does not know and thinks himself innocent.

[eisukevint]

Amygdala

Pairing: mamoru kishi x reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: tw/domestic violence, cursing, sa, abuse

a/n: i tried to keep the actual violence parts to a minimum, it can be really triggering! anyways, it was asked by an anon some time ago im so ashamed of myself for doing it so late so here it is. and as always, @hellocupie my favourite proof reader always helps me pull through my writer’s block.

…

…Nine

You counted mentally as put ointment on your fresh bruises

…Ten

Except, however you turned your legs, a barrage of bright scabs followed your eyes, painted in gorgeous shades of blue and purple.

You flinched as one hurt particularly bad. Putting aside the medical box, you almost stumbled when you got up. Regaining your balance you walked into the bathroom and analyzed your face.

“That bastard’s clever.”

You whispered under your breath as the only thing still safe and free of injuries on your body was your face except for one eye. You couldn’t go down to grab an ice bag. No, absolutely not. That man still would’ve been in the kitchen, drinking and eroding away.

You wanted to be free. There was nothing you wouldn’t give to be steer free of this torture cell that wasn’t even worthy of calling a home.

01:00 a.m.

There was still a timid little child rooted in you somewhere that was afraid of roaming the streets at this hour. All kinds of creeps hung out in the dark streets, especially at this hour of the night. It wasn’t easy sneaking out, but food, however, was still a priority and you hadn’t more than a slice of stale bread in two days.

Pulling your hood up, you walked into the 24 hour convenience store. Strawberry milk and two cups of ramen would do it, right?

You stuffed one cup under your hoodie, hoping the part-timer hadn’t noticed. Reaching the door, you made a dash for it but the guy working in the store caught on to your antics. Before you could even get away you smashed straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up, your eyes connected with grey orbs. You wanted to move back but the part-timer was right behind you.

…

“I told you I was hungry! I’ve never did this thing in my entire life, please believe me.” Pleading to the cop in the grey suit, you put your hands together in forgiveness, hoping for him to let you go.

“That still doesn’t give you an excuse to shoplift. Tell me either of your parent’s phone numbers if you don’t want to end up in juvy.” The man in grey said as he held you captive. You couldn’t risk your father knowing about this. Starvation won’t be the only cause of your demise if that happened.

“Please, I’m not lying. I haven’t eaten in over two days. All I wanted was some food in my stomach. I’ll never do this again!” Right on cue, your stomach grumbled and you pointed at it to prove your point.

It was at that moment when your hood pulled back a bit when the officer finally got a good look at your face. The purple bruising on the left side of your face definitely wasn’t from a stumbling into a pole, if that was the excuse you were gonna give him.

“What gave you that black eye?” He asked while he sat you on the stool outside the store, the part-timer back at the counter.

Your brain hollowed. Eyes dilated and breathing erratic. He wasn’t supposed to know about this. Not if you wanted a roof over your head. Playing it cool, you dismissed his question,

“That’s none of your business, officer.” You leaned on the table and the bearded man raised an eyebrow.

“I’m an officer of law, kid. It is my business.” He countered.

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

“The law.”

You couldn’t argue with that so you pursed your lips as you saw the faintest ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Wait right here and don’t you dare run away. I’ll still catch you.” He said as he disappeared into the store. You obviously didn’t want to get yourself into more trouble so you waited obediently.

Five minutes later, the man emerged from the store with two cups of your favourite ramen, the one you almost stole earlier, and a carton of choco milk. He placed one in front of you and took his place in the stool opposite to you. It was odd but you wouldn’t turn away free food.

“I wanted strawberry milk...” You said, breaking apart the chopsticks.

The officer slurped his and shot you a glare, “Be grateful. I don’t do this for everyone.” You glared back but continued to eat without further protest.

You made it safely back to your room after bidding goodbye to the officer and evading your father. With a full stomach, you slept well for the first time in weeks.

…

It has become a part of your daily routine now. You escape out of the house without your father catching on and having late night dinners with Mamoru outside the convenience store. He’d treat you to dinner or buy you little snacks which you initially refused until Mamoru forced them in your hands. You learned his name a week ago when he showed you his police card. In return, he asked yours.

He saw the scabs and scars on your arms and legs every now though except he never asked about them. He had seen enough victims of domestic violence before to figure out what was happening but he didn’t want to pry until you were ready to open up to him and you appreciated that.

You two often argued about him walking you to your house.

“I’m not a kid!” Your nose flared as you glared at him.

��Please, you’re the size of a munchkin. How are you not a kid?” Mamoru folded his arms.

“I’M SIXTEEN, I CAN WALK HOME ALONE.”

“You just proved my point, hence, you can’t go alone. Let’s go.” He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him. You eventually gave in and he walked you home from that point, leading to him learning your address. You were more than glad to find that your father wasn’t home nor asleep whenever Mamoru was outside your door.

…

Mamoru was worried. It had been six days. Six days since your last meet up. He waited late into the night hoping you’d show up but you didn’t. His texts were left on read and calls weren’t being answered. It was possible you were just busy with school work but it had never been this quiet on your end.

You were never open to him actually learning about your family so Mamoru only sought for help through his connections. His assumptions about your bruises hung over his head like a bad omen and he couldn’t shake off the bad feeling.

He found a little sister in the 16 year old that he never had. He had to find out what was going on in that house and if there was any person who was good at infiltration, it was Mitsunari Baba. When Mamoru explained to Baba why he had to go look for a teenager, he was baffled. But Baba had never seen the man look more distressed in all the time he has known him. So Baba took time out of his busy schedule to help the man and his little friend out.

…

The clock read 11:30, but you couldn’t figure out how long you’ve been lying in the kitchen, blood seeping out from every inch of your body. Your mind kept recalling all the events from an hour ago.

Your pathetic excuse of a father had just gotten home from God knows where. The awful stench of booze could be sensed from a mile away and that was your signal to make your escape. You wish, oh how you wish you hadn’t decided to lay down in the living room for a normal evening for the first time in a while. Before you could run off to the comfort of your room, your father grabbed you roughly by the hair and pulled you towards him.

“Now where are you running off to, huh!?” He uttered with a manic face. You knew what it meant and you wanted nothing more than to stay away from this man.

“You’re just a little whore, a whore like your slut mother who ran off with another dude for some dick!” He struck you across the face as he spat. Clenching your fist, you closed your eyes and endured whatever shit he threw at you.

“Now look at you! You’re running away at nights doing whatever the hell that whore did! The apple doesn’t fall from the tree, I guess. You thought I wouldn’t find out?” Your eyes widened in absolute horror when you heard that. At this point, he had already grabbed the golf club, your body being the recipient of his repetitive strikes.

“Do you get money for it too? You look plumper for someone who barely eats the food she’s given. You ungrateful wench, is the food I put on your plate not enough?”

He struck you in your stomach. You thought of the stale bread and the beer cans in the refrigerator. What food was he talking about?

“...Or do you enjoy getting fucked by men twice your age?”

This time, he aimed for your legs. Your battered and bloodied self could barely hold on to the last of the strength and you ended up collapsing on the wooden floor.

He grabbed the collar of your shirt and yanked you upwards. “You know, whenever I fucked the brains out of your stupid mother, she always stayed home like an obedient bitch. You’re the filth that came out of that shameless slut, it shouldn’t be difficult getting you on the same page.” You tried to lift your hands and swat his hands away when he puts them on your thigh, but failed. You wanted to vomit.

It was too much. You thought of everything that built up to this moment. You thought of Mamoru. You thought of the food he bought you because you were hungry. You thought of the warm hugs he gave you when you felt down. Even though this disgusting man continued his assault on you, you tried to think of the limited happy things in your life so you wouldn’t feel as bad as you leave this miserable life behind.

…

Baba was prepared to break the window to get in if he had to but he was quite surprised to see the back door of the house unlocked. He expected a shabby house but the state of the house was rather immaculate. His awe was short-lived when he stepped into the living room.

Blood. So much blood, he could hardly believe his eyes.

His eyes widened beyond belief when his gaze landed on you sprawled across the floor. Are you even breathing? He thought as he crouched down to check your pulse so he breathed a sigh of relief when he could hear your silent breathing. It was slow and soft but it was there. Your body was littered with bruises, most of them looked fresh and some, a few days old. He could hear water running somewhere upstairs and he couldn’t let this go on anymore.

Mamoru was devastated when Baba reported everything to him. How could he let something so big like this happen right under his nose? He had so many opportunities to help you, to pry the information out of you. But he resisted it all for your sake, and in the end, all he felt was regret. He had to resist the urge to destroy the man who had done this to you. But right now, his priority was you. Your safety and your well being so he did everything in his power to get you out of that hell.

…

You could barely make out the scene before you. You peeled your ears open to hear what they were saying but it was all so hazy. People dressed in police uniform were placing handcuffs on your father’s wrists while you felt yourself being carried in someone’s arms. It was a warm embrace and it felt familiar.

What’s going on?

You wanted to ask, but your hazy mind didn’t allow you, and you succumbed to the protection that the arms holding you provided.

When you opened your eyes, Mamoru was the last person you had expected to see in front of you. A nurse tended to all of your injuries, the injuries that your rotten father had cruelly inflicted on you. Mamoru was speaking with someone but this time you could make out some of the words they were saying.

Once the nurse was done treating you, Mamoru walked up to you. You didn’t mean to, but you unintentionally flinched. You didn’t want him to see you in this state. He understood that but it was all he needed in order to reassure himself that you were alright. You were okay, alive and breathing so he hugged you with all his might until you had to smack his arm to push him away.

He ended up telling you about how he got a call from your neighbour, a neighbour you don’t remember having, hearing thrashing noises from your house and immediately reported it to the police the moment he saw you lying in the lounge when he decided to check it out. Baba’s disguise had worked yet again and he was more delighted than anyone that his skills had actually saved someone’s life this time.

You were still terrified.

Years and years worth of abuse you had to endure had just come to an end and your brain could not keep up. What if he came after you? What if all of this was just one of the delusions you had cooked up when you had tried imagining yourself in a much better life? Your thoughts were quickly pulling you into that dark place again but Mamoru was there to drag you away from the pit of darkness you were living in. He believed he could and you allowed him to. You had just come to love him as an older brother, someone you could rely on so when you heard him utter the words ‘everything will be okay’ for the first time in years, you let your tears fall freely.

[bunnyscar]

Motivation

“All right, that’s enough for today. Good work!” Fred said.

Sam wiped sweat out of his eyes and leaned against the wall, panting from exertion. His legs felt like jelly after having run several laps around the gym, and his arms were aching from where Fred had hit him. He had always thought he was rather average in terms of athletic ability and fitness, but after training with Fred, he felt as unfit as a couch potato. Though this training was harder than a regular P.E. class, so perhaps he shouldn’t compare.

For two weeks now, Sam and Kye had been coming to the Vampire Ministry for training. Behind the main Ministry building was a smaller building, consisting of a large room that functioned as a gym. Here, Fred would have Sam run laps or lift weights to increase his physical ability, and then they would have mock fist fights to learn self-defense.

On the other side of the room, Sherise worked with Kye to help him control his blood-lust. She wasn’t teaching him fighting yet. That would come later, she said. For now, she was exposing Kye to small vials of blood and challenging him to not react to it, as well as having him watch movies and not react to the villains. Apparently this was supposed to teach him control.

Even after two weeks, though, Sam didn’t feel that they were getting much better. He still came home every night feeling weak and achy, and Kye always had a brooding look on his face. But at least Fred and Sherise seemed to think they were doing well.

“You’re both fast learners. Why, I bet in a few weeks you’ll be ready to start training together, and before long you’ll be out on the field,” Sherise said that evening, beaming at the two.

“Really?” Sam said doubtfully, and he and Kye exchanged dubious looks. They certainly didn’t feel ready to go out and solve vampire issues.

Fred patted their backs. “It may not feel like it, but you’re both progressing much faster than most vampire pairs we’ve trained.”

“It doesn’t feel fast,” Kye mumbled. “I still have trouble resisting the urge to smash the screen when the bad guys come on.”

“But you haven’t,” Sherise reminded him. “And you’re doing excellent at resisting blood. Remind yourself of that when you start to doubt your progress.”

Kye nodded, but he hunched his shoulders and looked away from her.

“Hey, don’t be hard on yourselves. You’ve only just started training. It’s going to take time and perseverance, but if you can find the motivation to keep going, you’ve won half the battle. Don’t give up yet, okay?” Fred added. The boys nodded and took their leave.

They remained silent all the way home, deep in their own thoughts. Just after entering their apartment, however, they heard a knock on the front door. They glanced at each other. Who could it be? Mom wouldn’t be home for another hour.

Sam opened the door cautiously, only to stare in surprise and exclaim, “Morris?”

Kye started and peered over Sam’s shoulder. It was indeed Morris, standing awkwardly in front of the door, his eyes downcast and his hands fidgeting with each other.

For a moment, they all stood frozen, unsure how to act.

At last, Sam asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I came—to apologize,” Morris said hesitantly, clenching and unclenching his hands, looking everywhere but at Sam and Kye. “To apologize for my behavior when I found out that Kye was a vampire. And to thank you—for saving my life.”

There was a stunned silence. Morris took a deep breath and continued, “I’ve always hated vampires, you know? And I guess I let that hate get in the way of seeing you as you really are. I’m sorry I acted like I wasn’t your friend anymore. Will you...forgive me?”

Kye hesitated, then stepped forward and said quietly, “Yes, I forgive you.”

Sam scratched the back of his head. “If Kye forgives you, I will too.”

Morris bowed his head in thanks. After an awkward pause, Kye asked, “How is your brother?”

Morris bit his lip and murmured, “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry. If we had gotten there sooner…,” Sam said, his brows furrowing in concern. But Morris shook his head.

“It’s not your fault. If you hadn’t come at all, I would have died too. So…thank you. I wanted to thank you before I leave….My parents and I are moving to another city, one that they think is safer. Anyway, I should get back before they start to worry.” He turned to go.

“Morris!” Kye called as he started down the apartment steps. “Write to us sometimes!”

Morris blinked up at him in surprise, then gave him a small smile and nodded before he disappeared down the steps.

After closing the door, Sam and Kye stood silent a moment

“Sam,” Kye broke the silence. He was staring at the front door with a determined look. “I’m going to train harder. I’m going to learn how to use my gifts to stop bad vampires and help people. I don’t want any more people to get hurt like Morris.”

Sam nodded, and hope filled his chest as he watched his brother. They had found their motivation.

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