#the fic is unfinished

[keferon]

Okay I’m. Usually. Usually I don’t enjoy human aus and usually I hate drawing transformers as humans because it feels so wrong to my brain.

But then I stumbled upon Dream of something more by Gemma_Inkyboots and aaauuuhh fuck. Here’s the pile of the most vague and unspecific and undetailed fanart. Because I’m being torn between “I can’t drawing human designs” and “If don’t draw something for this fic I die”.

[idonotbitemythumbatyou]

this is him to me.

I’ve gotten some really nice askboxes for people who have been really happy with how I write Kelas (helluva hardliner), and I had a bad day, so here he is!! Someday I’ll figure out exactly how I wanna draw him but idk, in the interim, hair!

you know what scene this is :v

really got his “unfathomable contempt” face. hurrah!

[hootyhoowoo]

Craning just a little, Shen Qingqiu looked past the lord’s shoulder.

Luo Binghe stared down one of the most powerful cultivators in the human world, and scoffed. His lips twisted into a smile that was anything but happy. Shen Qingqiu’s heart stuttered - though maturity had given his former apprentice’s features grace and refinement, they were of course still familiar to him. But he hadn’t ever seen such an expression on them before. It was the kind of look that taunted the person across from it, as if to say ‘come pick a fight with me - I’ll enjoy watching you lose’.

The bolt of heat it shot right through him was entirely inappropriate, and he immediately decided to pretend that it never happened.

-

‘I Wish You Were My Husband’ -by Feynite Chapter 4

[celestialwrites]

characters realizing they are in love dialogue + prompts

@celestialwrites for more!!

♡ seeing their s/o interact with children they met in a small town in the absolute middle of nowhere.

♡ “it shouldn’t take losing me to love me, if you really did, you would have loved me right the first time.”

♡ the character realizes how head over heels in love they are when their s/o took over their whole kitchen in a panic bake.

♡ “i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman.”

♡ the character takes a bullet for their friend, only for that friend to realize that losing the character would destroy them.

♡ "why are you acting like this?" "why do you think?!"

♡ watching their (enemy or best friend) walk down the aisle to marry someone else.

♡ "are you going to leave?" "you? never."

♡ character A staring at character B's face, appreciating every detail of B's face, their eyes, their smile, and A just knows.

♡ "i am so unbelievably afraid that i will lose you, and i don't understand why."

♡ "three words. just say the three words."

♡ character A shows up at character B's house covered in blood, "i needed to go somewhere, and all i could think of was you."

♡ "i used to think i was immune to such temptations." "used to?"

♡ character A running through a rainstorm just to find character B's lost necklace that means the world to them.

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[cursedyuri]

i’ve been thinking about grinding on vi’s boot and now it’s your problem. 18+ below or i’ll kill you.

she’s got you on your knees, one of her legs hiked up to allow you access to her throbbing cunt; you’re lapping at her like a woman starved. the lower half of your face is practically dripping with your saliva and her sweet slick—she loves when you’re a mess like this. hair misplaced and frizzy from her vice-like grip, your eyes watery every time you peer up at her from beneath your lashes to watch her face crumple in pleasure.

“so fuckin’ good at this,” she praises, giving your hair a tug for emphasis. your scalp burns and it makes your stomach churn with arousal. you can do nothing but moan in response, tongue splitting through vi’s folds, nose bumping against her spit-soaked clit in a way that pulls another moan from her kiss-bitten lips.

you shuffle forward on your knees, looking for easier access to the heat between vi’s legs, and you shudder with unexpected pleasure when your clothed cunt brushes against the rough steel toe of vi’s boot. fuck—that’s good.

your eyes flicker up to catch another glimpse of vi, wondering if she’d noticed your reaction. and you find her already watching you, those piercing blue eyes clouded with lust and smug, smug knowing.

busted.

breath hitching in your throat, you continue licking into vi’s heat, eyes locked in her heated gaze—but you shiver anew when you feel vi’s boot lift, prodding at your core. your panties are soaked, you can feel it, even in spite of the cold surface of the steel toe.

“go on,” vi says, a teasing lilt in her voice. “make a mess, princess.”

cheeks burning, you don’t move at first. your tongue circles vi’s clit, dips into the warm heat of her opening, makes her grunt and groan and lose focus of your figure beneath her. and when she’s lost in pleasure again, you grind your hips down against her boot again, hips circling and rotating until you find a rhythm.

just like she wanted, you make one hell of a mess.

[chatlote]

ive been rewatching voltron....

[maym0rin]

a quick 1 hour comic doodle of beanix making sure bratworth is taking care of himself after bratworth overworked himself at one point 💙💖

[cryptic-underground]

He Used To Be so Bright, Then Life Stole It.

If you squint, you'll see something that alludes to the fic I'm writing. (Which finally has a name, it's: "Ring Around the Pine Tree." Might change it when I ended up posting it, but this is the name I like for now).

I thought of this idea late yesterday night whilst procrastinating writing said fic(still writing Chapter 2, smh(it's like 5k words so far compared to other chapters mere 1k combined)). And I kept thinking about a certain sentence I wrote, then I spiraled. Drew all the sketches the same night, did all the line art upon waking up, and then spent like 4-5 hours colouring and shading them all in ONE SITTING. Without moving from where I was sitting the whole time. I almost postponed the last one for tomorrow because I really wasn't feeling colouring Ford, but then the dark part of my brain was like "what it's just one more and then you're done the whole thing! Then you can do other stuff tomorrow without having one more unfinished drawing sitting around."

So I blacked out, and he was done. The frustrating part was saving all the pngs because I'm insane and did this all on one canva, meaning I kept forgetting to both turn on certain layers as well as turn others off. (I had to resave certain ones multiple times, it was a NIGHTMARE).

The full images because I worked too hard on them for them to be seen for just a second:

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

posting this with absolutely no context

[adimouze]

an incomplete list of truly unhinged shit max verstappen has said/done this year about daniel ricciardo

said he should have taken a picture of daniel asleep on the plane next to him because it was sooooo funny bearing in mind no one found it funny (daniel found it funny)

checked out at daniel on the honda thanks day podium then tucked his hair behind his ear when daniel looked at him

honda day in general (kart fucking, passenger princessing)

asked if he was going to go on a romantic date with daniel

when said it wasn't a romantic date he y/n-ed a date at daniel's farm where they would be racing dirt bikes and daniel (someone who has experience with dirt bikes) would be getting injured but they both would be missing the next few races

used checo and yuki as padel nets for their game of pretend padel while scotty james (another daniel ricciardo harem member) stared off into the distance

walked so far off ahead with daniel during filming that marketing could barely point them out in the photo

pointing and laughing at checo's rendition of suzuka circuit together

said, in front of nico hulkenberg, kevin magnussen, checo perez and god himself that he would choose to go to a deserted island with daniel and just daniel

said he couldn't describe daniel in just three words

said everything is better with daniel right next to his teammate

hitting each other with fishing nets in monaco

max placing his hand on the railing behind daniel while taking a photo

daniel casually walking into an interview max is doing and bringing him stroopwaffels when asked

called daniel a horny man

let daniel walk him through the paddock with his hand on max's back

"it is of course daniel" and the world's biggest smile

answered daniel for most things

told everyone he hated going to goodwood then looked like he had the most fun with his legs tucked up next to daniel

sat next to each other the entire time and hoped they could be teammates (for the WEC!!! ofc!!! sneaky look)

spent an entire drivers parade shitting on his car with daniel (who is in another team)

walked past his teammate to leave for the summer break without talking because he was with daniel

HELICOPTER RIDE INTO THE SUNSET

singapore padel date

defended daniel to the world without prompting

singapore walk in the rain

"thank you daniel"

"he can have whatever he wants"

liked every single post daniel made within seconds except the one where he's cuddled up with another man

monaco padel date with daniel in last night's clothes

[bunnieswithknives]

Wow Dale I didn't know you liked entomology! 💕

[clementinecalls]

[sweeteuphrasia]

been seeing a bunch of posts about people going back to their steddie roots bc of s5 but i’ve never fucking left. those fuckers invaded my mind two years ago and now they’re the freezer burn in the back of my mind. yeah all those half finished steddie fics that everyone forgot about? sitting in my bookmarks like the cobwebs on my ceiling. every so often i’ll scroll through them looking like a forlorn wife in the 1940s after my husband went away to war.

[rogueddie]

Steve had been watching the kids play D&D with Robin. They were curled up on a beanbag together, almost painfully wrapped up together. It was so normal that no one batted an eye. And the two of them sitting in the corner to watch the kids play had also become routine enough that it was more unusual to find their corner empty.

Nothing about the afternoon, the day, or even the week, was in anyway odd or unusual. Steve had been feeling better, if anything. It showed too. Even Mike had pulled Dustin aside to ask what had him to much happier. But it was just the fact that everything was starting to look up- Max had taken a noticeable turn for the better, the cracks infection of Hawkins was increasingly slowing down and the amount of monsters had slowed down to the point that Steve didn’t even need to join the patrols.

All in all, Steve considered it a good month. What could possibly go wrong?

The room had started spinning so violently and so suddenly that he couldn’t hold in his confused, distressed noise. All heads in the room turned, just in time to see Steves eyes roll back, slumping back.

“Steve?!” Robin says, shaking him. She struggles to get up with most of him still wrapped around her, with how limp he’s suddenly gone. “Steve!”

Dustin is there in seconds, knees thudding to the floor next to them. “Steve! Oh, shit. Steve!”

“Has he just fainted?” Will asks, stepping forward with the others, hovering nearby. “Should we call an ambulance?”

“Check his pulse,” Mike suggests.

They’re all quiet, tense, watching Robins fingers shift on Steves neck.

“I can’t find it!” She sobs.

Dustin, who’d been checking his pulse via his wrist at the same time, yells, “no, I got it! It’s- shit, it’s faint.”

“Call for an ambulance,” Will tells Mike, already heading for the door. “I’m gonna get El!”

Dustin and Robin struggle, but eventually lift him enough for her to stand up. She insists he check for Steves pulse again, beginning to pace, pulling at her hair.

“Maybe it’s something to do with his head,” she continues to ramble. “I mean, he’s been hit a lot, that must have done some damage, right? And, like, I didn’t notice any lights flickering, but maybe he did and-”

“Robin!”

“Yes?”

“Not helping.”

“RIght. Sorry.” She’s quiet for a moment, continuing to pace, glancing towards the door. Mike can be heard talking on the phone. “But it’s gotta be something normal and easy to explain, right? It’s not like… it’s not like Vecna could have done this… right?”

But Dustin turns to her, slowly, frowning. “Maybe. It would explain why things might have suddenly gotten better. Vecna could still be weak, so a direct attack would take all his energy.”

They both turn, looking at Steve. But there’s nothing obviously wrong with him. He just looks… asleep.

“-in here!” Will is saying, rushing into the room, El hot on his heels.

El gently pushes Dustin aside, kneeling down beside Steve. She grabs his hand, quickly closing her eyes.

She stays there for a long time. Long enough that Mike comes back, warning them that the ambulance should be there any minute. Robin starts to pace again, whilst Will bites his nails. Dustin stays crouched beside El, staring at Steve like he’s tempted to try and jump inside his head alongside El.

“He is… not here.” She eventually says, opening her eyes.

“What does that mean?” Robin asks.

“He is not here,” El repeats. She looks as confused as everyone else. “His mind. It’s… not here.”

“You mean like… Max?” Will says.

“No…” El looks back to Steve. “Her mind is… empty. Hiding. He is gone.”

In the Upside Down, Steve wakes up.

His body doesn’t… feel right. He tries to stand up but, as soon as he tries, his legs wobble and he falls onto all fours… but…

Steve hesitates, looking down nervously. And, if the size of the world hadn’t given it away, the fluffy little paws he’s met with do. He tries to move his hands up, tries to tell himself that he’s just seeing things- but the paws move instead. The wrong feelings match up with the furry little body he’s in.

Panic bubbles up, so overwhelming that he gags. The noise he makes, though, only makes him panic more.

It takes him a long moment to realize that it’s him that’s yowling. It’s him making those sounds. It’s him… meowing.

“Woah, hey,” a soft voice coos. “How’d you get in here?”

Steve jumps around, hissing- but immediately stops. Because that’s…

“Eddie?” Steve tries to say. The meow he makes instead sounds curious.

Eddie smiles, awing at him. He crouches down, slowly extending a hand towards him. “Hi there, little guy. You got a mouth on you, huh? Heard you all the way from the trailer park. You must be pretty spooked. Did you fall in here?”

Steve stares at him, amused and annoyed. He huffs, sitting down, before pointedly tapping one of his paws on the floor. He still remembers the simple morse that Eddie had used to flash their SOS to Dustin… he’s pretty sure.

He barely gets two short taps done, before Eddie Is lifting him up. His hand curls under Steves belly, pulling him up to his chest. Steve yowls, annoyed- but Eddie shushes him. He glances behind him, which is when Steve realizes that he’s scared.

Then he hears the subtle sounds of movement. Something… stalking towards them.

Steve realizes, then, just how vulnerable he is like this. He’s tiny. He’s a fucking cat. If Eddie drops him, leaves him behind for whatever reason, he has no chance of survival.

“Woah, hey, hey,” Eddie whispers, startled, as Steve tries to worm his way inside Eddies jacket. He tugs it open though, curling an around around himself so Steve has some support. “That’s a good idea, you stay there, ok? Stay quiet, shh shh.”

Eddie is still, not moving or even breathing, for a long moment.

Eventually, he heaves a great sigh, gently prying Steve out from inside his jacket. He's careful to support him whilst holding him up for inspection, one hand around his chest and under his front... legs? But he has his other hand flat underneath him to sit on.

"You're so fluffy," Eddie mumbles, turning Steve around. "And clean. Where did you even come from?"

Steve grumbles, trying his hardest to glare.

It just makes Eddie laugh. "You're a fiesty little thing, aren't you?"

He pulls Steve closer, propping him up against his chest, starting to walk... deeper into the forest.

Steve tries to make his confusion clear, though he's not sure it works.

"It's ok, I have a little base set up at Harringtons place," Eddie explains, absentmindedly petting Steves head. "Not many vines there, so it's pretty safe."

Steve tries to wriggle around at the mention of his name, bringing a paw up to pat at Eddies chest, urgently.

"Hey, sh, it's ok," Eddie coos, stroking him from head to butt- Steve hates how much it does sooth him. "You're ok. I'll find you something to eat, ok? You're gonna be fine." Eddie glances down at him, humming. "I should name you, shouldn't I?"

Steve feels his ears droop. He's sure that Eddie will insist on giving him some D&D name, or some other nerd-

"Stevie," Eddie says, grinning at how quickly Steve perks up. "You're just like him, you know? Pretty, fluffy, soft... but also, a little bitchy."

Pretty?

"I shouldn't bore you with stories of old high school crushes though, should I, kitty?"

Steve meows, jumping up. He's too curious now.

Eddie laughs. "Alright, alright... but it's a long story! Don't say I didn't warn you. It starts in 83, he was a year below me..."

[summervale]

「Merriment」

Third-person reader insert! Y/N is the younger sister of King Robert Baratheon. Her house sigil is a stag, yes, but it seems she has a particular fondness for hounds.

Contains: Reluctant pining, kissing, mature situations Words:  2,311

UNFINISHED WORK: This was supposed to be a long, multi-part piece which is why it takes so long setting up! This was part one and is about halfway finished. Figured there's a lot of Sandor fans that might enjoy a small something cute <3

No husband and no responsibilities made for a very happy woman indeed. Small wonder she was all smiles and riddles and gayeties; she must, the commonfolk thought, be the happiest woman in all the seven kingdoms.

This was likely true.

She was forever laughing. There was a smile on her face always, it seemed, and everywhere she went she took merriment with her. Her ladyship took great pleasure in riddles and games and shows of mummers and fools, and King’s Landing had not hosted a tourney that did not have her there in the pavilions in many a year. She was a friend to all regardless of birth or station or reputation (within reason), and for this she was quite loved, but also quite resented. The resentment was paid little mind—turning a blind eye and smiling was much more fun, as it was often irksome to those who were loth to favor her.

Y/N Baratheon. Lady of Storm’s End, younger sister to Stannis and Robert, older sister to Renly. She possessed the same appetite for amity as Robert coupled with the mirth and grandeur of Renly. Of Stannis, it was said, they shared only a name. Still she insisted she adored all her brothers equally, “even the gloomy one.”

Much was afoot in King’s Landing.

King Robert had named Lord Eddard Stark new hand of the king, and Stark had arrived with a host of his own and his two daughters in tow. This was cause for celebration, and celebration was cause for a tourney, and where there was a tourney (or a celebration), Lady Y/N was to be found.

And she was found in King’s Landing quite a lot, of recent.

There was a rumor, often dubbed a vicious and untrue one, that though her house sigil may be the King's own stag, Y/N had a particular fondness for hounds.

The sun was two hours from setting when a host of black and yellow arrived at The King's Gate. In came banners that bore stags, and a spate of wagons bringing wines and cheeses and polished pears from Storm’s End. An impatient rider rode ahead of the rest, leaving behind a cry of protest as she thundered away, alone, up the streets of King’s Landing.

She arrived with a well-lathered horse and a swirl of her cloak. A party had time to gather in the yard of the Red Keep; a paltry welcoming committee with little time to prepare.

But the King was there—of course the King was there.

Had she not already been grinning, she would have grinned. “There’s my favorite brother,” said Y/N, dismounting and already forgetting her palfrey.

The look on Robert’s face was strange, though, and uncharacteristic of the Robert she knew and loved. The years had not been kind to him (as was made most evident by his growing waistline), and his face was stern, drawn into a scowl, his brow furrowed.

Is he not happy to see me? she thought even through her smiles and excitement. Gods, he looks as grim as Stannis, maybe twice as much. When she made to throw her arms about his neck, he took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length instead.

“That’s your grace to you, woman. I am the King, or have you forgotten?”

The King’s sister opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, which was done dumbly and not unlike a fish.

The ruse was short-lived.

Robert Baratheon—King Robert Baratheon—broke into a roar of laughter like that of a bear made human. Still holding his dearest sister by the shoulders, he gave her a hearty shake. “Your face!” he boomed. “You should have seen it!”

Her smile returned, then her laughter. “You’re a fool if ever there was one, Robert!”  She threw her arms around his neck even as he shook her, and the big king lifted his little sister in his arms and hugged her so tightly, so fiercely, that the now-arriving party feared the king may crush their lady.

Robert didn’t crush Y/N, though. No, they were both used to it. “You’re crushing me, Robert,” she huffed at last, prompting the king to drop her back down onto the ground.

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Right then, let’s get inside. We have much and more to catch up on, and there’s a flagon of wine calling my name.”

“Every flagon of wine calls your name, your grace.”

The King was laughing again, then, and the King’s sister was smiling.

That, as far as the two Baratheons were concerned, was the way it always had been, and the way it always would be, until one buried the other.

Meeting the King’s party was a grand ordeal, though Y/N had already met most of the partygoers in attendance on at least one occasion. Of course she knew the Lannisters, her brother’s family by law, and she’d met Lord Eddard Stark once before. Lord Eddard’s daughters were new to her, however, and a few of the faces at court as well. Having been taught well, she recognized most of the family names and colors, smiling and shaking hands and doing all the formalities a lady should do.

The occupants of the Red Keep’s great hall that night came from houses big and small, known and unknown, and saw the attendance of lords and ladies, knights, hedge knights, bards, poets and singers, fools in their motley and mummers with their painted faces. There were cards being shuffled and dice being thrown. Serving girls brought plate after plate of selections from the kitchens: stuffed capons, wine-glazed lamb, honeyed figs, dark breads with thick crusts, sweet lemon cakes still-warm from the ovens. The courses seemed never-ending and the wine never stopped flowing.

“Never was there such a party before, brother,” declared Y/N. She lifted a gilded goblet with a flourish, and rich, purple wine splashed over the rim and down her hand. She was the picture of effortless joy.

And she knew it, too.

If she hadn’t known it, the guests would have reminded her; the way they flocked to her in throngs and yammered on and on whenever she should happen to lend an ear—which was often. Round and round she circled the crowd as the evening wore on and the wine continued to flow, searching the room for a familiar face—a face that would stand out even in the most crowded of rooms.

Her gaze passed the lords and ladies, passed the knights in their polished armor, until at last she found her mark.

Sandor Clegane, the Hound, stood near the far wall, obscured halfway in the shadows. His face was grim, as it usually was, pulled tightly into a scowl that had long since worn its lines permanently into his features. The burn scars that marred half his face were highlighted by the flickering torchlight, giving him an even more fearsome appearance.

She knew Sandor was not like the other knights, not like the men who fawned over ladies with flowery words and grand gestures. He was rough, blunt, and often downright rude.

He was the perfect change of pace.

Oft she sought him when at last she could take the rinse-and-repeat of perfumed nobility no longer. She wove through the crowd with ease, exchanging smiles and nods as she passed, until she finally stood before Sandor.

"Sandor," she greeted him plainly. “It’s been too long.”

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. For an overly long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a grunt, he inclined his head slightly. "My lady," he replied, his voice as rough as the gravel on the King’s Road.

Y/N smiled up at him, unfazed by his gruffness. "Why do you stand here all alone?" she asked, her tone teasing. "Surely even hounds deserve a bit of merriment."

Sandor huffed, a sound that could have been a laugh if it had come from anyone else. "Merriment’s for fools," he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“Forgive me, then, for it seems I’ve forgotten my motley.”

“So it seems.”

She knew he was not a man of many words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But she also knew that, for reasons she could not fully explain, she had become someone he tolerated more than most.

Perhaps it was a royal decree by Robert unbeknownst to her. And what a royal decree that would be! The thought made her laugh aloud, which only earned her a raised eyebrow in response.

He indicated the floor from which she’d just come. "Motely or not, you should jingle along with the other fools,” he said, though his tone was less stern than usual.

"And you should be out there with your fellow dogs," said she, “but here we are."

Sandor's lips twitched as if they might have remembered how to smile for half a moment. “Surprised you’re not dancing again. It went well for you last time.”

With one sentence he had broken the façade she wore so well. Her look of smug mirth disappeared from her face in an instant and was replaced instead by one of flustered surprise.

It had been a celebration much like this one and she was deep in her cups by the time the sun had set and the dancing had begun. Y/N had been at the heart of it, twirling and dancing with little care, passing hand from one lord to another, from knight to knight, breathless and flushed and shoes long forgotten.

The next thing she knew, she was stumbling, and a moment later, toppling entirely. The ground rose up to meet her with an unpleasant wack!, and the pain in her cheek was overshadowed only by a pain in her ankle. She’d gotten too carried away and twisted something, it seemed, and hadn’t even felt it until she was picking herself back up off the ground.

Or, well, trying to pick herself back up off the ground. The usual cloud of courtiers buzzed around her in an attempt to see her upright again, but the pain in her ankle swelled red hot and angry.

A shadow passed, then, and she had looked up, her vision slightly blurred from the wine, to see Sandor Clegane’s gruff face above her. There had been no mocking grin or cold stare, just a look that might have been concern on a more expressive man. “You’re alright.”

Without another word, he had scooped her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all.

Y/N had gasped, her hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders. "I can walk!" she had protested, though she hadn’t made any real effort to leave his arms.

 "Not on that ankle you can’t.”

And so she had let him carry her, through the bustling hall and up the winding stairs of the Red Keep, all the way to her chambers. It had been awkward, but it had also been…

More.

“You’re quite strong,” she said to him, which earned only a grunt of acknowledgement.

Something—something—fluttered inside of her when she saw him so close; the burned skin unevenly healed, the scruff that dusted his face, the muscle of his neck that disappeared beneath his armor where her prying eyes could not follow—but her imagination could. 

When they reached her chambers, he had set her down gently on the edge of her bed. She had looked up at him, her heart pounding in a way that had little to do with the wine. As he made to release her, she caught the back of his neck with her hand and held him there, inches from her face.

She’d expected him to break free, to pull away, to do anything else. But he stayed.

He stayed there like that, his lips inches from hers.

He had hesitated, his expression torn between wanting to leave and the pull of something deeper that they both felt there between them. They both smelled of wine and honeyed mead, lips sweet.

She didn’t know who kissed who, but in half a heartbeat they were entangled.

Sandor’s breath came ragged against her mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She bit his lip and he growled. It was fast, animal, raw want.

And a longtime coming.

When he pulled away, she pulled him back in again, and he didn’t fight her. Breathless, she’d pulled herself up by his shoulders and onto her knees, the pain in her ankle unfelt and forgotten. Her hands cupped his face and she pulled him in, in, in, until her chest was flush with his and she could feel every rise and fall of his on hers.

At last he’d taken her by the elbows and pushed her away, and it ended as suddenly as it had started.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he told her.

“But I haven’t had enough of you.”

“You’ve had your fill of that, too,” he said, turning cloak and leaving.

“I’m quite certain I haven’t had my fill of you.”

He paused mid-step and looked at her over his shoulder. “You don’t want that,” he assured her. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something sharp as steel and burning hot.

Y/N leaned back on the bed. “I know what I want,” she said, wishing she could stand and go to him, to pull him by his cloak and his armor and whatever else she could get her hands on—something lower than his beltline. “I’ve known for years and years.”

Slowly, deliberately, Sandor crossed the room again, silhouetted against the warm torchlight that poured in through the still-open door. “Trust me,” he said, towering over her, leaning in close. “You might want to get your fill of me, but you don’t want me to get my fill of you.”

Her breath left her body in a shuddering shiver.

Again he had turned, then, and didn’t stop to look back at her that time.

[shimera]

the last transmission

__

shmol leland as a bonus because yea