#the themes of time slipping away like thick jelly

[ludicleaf]

28. Which fic is closest to your heart? 👀

ouuu ouuurrr errmmmmm (quickly opens google drive to scour my list of fics) sand angel because it was the precedent of me figuring out that my genre of writing was emotional, introspective, somber brontë-esque things

would it be silly to say zenith? it’s the first skz fic i ever wrote, the first fanfic i wrote seriously, and sure, it’s not as good as compared to my more recent stuff (though that’s a given), but it set me down this path

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

Prompt: #255 - Halloween (explicit)

THIS IS SET PRE-JURASSIC WORLD AND DOES NOT CONTAIN DOMINION SPOILERS FOR ANY LOVES WHO HAVE NOT SEEN IT YET

I first wrote and published this fic in November 2018. Someone left me a rather lengthy review complaining about how bad it was and how disappointed they are (not constructive criticism) on my birthday when I was already having a shit time. It got to me so badly I deleted this fic. I was thinking about it recently, and after having two conversations about it with two different people I have decided to repost it. It’s been lightly edited, but for the most part remains the same. 

Summary: Owen and Claire fuck after a halloween party.

AO3

HALLOWEEN

Halloween, 2014

Isla Nublar

Parties, especially staff parties, were not Claire’s thing. She felt awkward, lingering in a room full of staffers she barely spoke to. Zara’s smile was bright, grinning at Claire like she knew her secret. ‘I'm so glad you decided to come!’ Zara half yelled over the music, her elbow tapping Claire’s hip. ‘You look ravishing.’ She winked again making Claire wonder if she had revealed her intentions to Zara without realising. Her assistant leaned in again, this time letting her finger slip between the bands that scattered down the side of her skirt. She pulled it tight, letting the fabric go as it snapped back into place with a satisfying sound against Claire’s skin. ‘I'm going to go get us some drinks, do you have a preference?’ She asked, stepping away with a small laugh as she marvelled at her boss wearing something so unexpected.

Zara disappeared into the decorations, cobwebs and plastic spiders hanging from doorways and sconces. Someone had plugged in a smoke machine, setting off an eerie atmosphere and thick air. She couldn’t see the walls anymore, just faint outlines of spooky decorations and the faint knowledge that tombstones scattered the space here and there.

The Monster Mash played at an obnoxiously loud level as employees dressed in varying costumes moved to the music, drinks in hand and conversation on their lips. She didn’t pay them much mind beyond a quiet smile, happy to see the tension from the command room slip away and the high pressures of a popular theme park disappear into a quiet night. Claire didn’t know them well, but she knew they deserved this. Time off to celebrate amongst themselves without the pressures of their jobs. 

Her eyes washed over them, peering through the manufactured fog, looking for one face and body in particular. She wasn't sure if he would be there, but free booze always seemed to be a lure for Owen Grady. Claire wondered briefly if she poured herself a glass of tequila if it would be enough to summon him. Like the smell of his favourite liquor would be enough to drag his nose through the room until he was standing at her feet, wondering why on Earth she was holding something she once denied. Surely, just to prove her wrong he would appear, telling her the drink wasn’t approved by her diet with a smirk and a self-satisfied chuckle. She hoped he would, so she could roll her eyes and feel the familiar warmth slide down her spine. He was a jerk. But he did it for her. 

‘Please tell me you just had this lying around.’ Like he felt his ears burning or sensed her tequila thoughts, Owen appeared. His hand ghosted over her hip, too scared to touch her fully as his fingers made contact with her skin in the gaps of her skirt. His voice was low, warning and weak. Claire knew all she would have to do is nod and he would be jelly at her feet, his hands all over her as he pulled her body into his. 

It felt so easy with Owen. Easier than it had ever had been, easier than all the times she wanted it to work and the relationships she tried to salvage. But he made it feel so good and so effortless, even when she wanted to hate every second of it.  Even when she tried. The man had talent even she couldn’t dissuade and now she was yearning for it, missing him like another limb. She hated herself, if only a little, for being drawn into the spiders’ web but she also knew Owen was harmless and had the highest of senses that he was into her enough to want to do it again. 

Claire tried to pretend she didn’t feel a shock of electricity at his touch, her heart pounding instantly as her mind wandered to delicious thoughts. The scratch of his voice made her recall when it had been pressed directly beside her ear, his breath ghosting past the cartilage and setting her on fire. 

‘Sorry?’ Claire asked, playing stupid to his words as she looked him up and down. He wasn’t wearing a costume. Still dressed in jeans and the leather vest she always saw him wearing at the paddock he wreaked of dirt and something specifically Owen. It was nice to know he didn’t scrub up for parties as well as dates.

He nodded at her attire, Claire suddenly feeling self-conscious about her choice. ‘I’m just trying to figure out whether this is something that’s always lived in your wardrobe or if you bought it for tonight.’ She watched his eyes as he watched her, smoothing up and down the lines of her body in a way that made her skin hot. Usually, Claire would be repulsed, annoyed at the blatant cockiness of the man. But, Owen … she wanted this from him. She realised, a little too late, that she was likely setting women back twenty years in choosing to dress specifically to be ogled by a man. Claire was hoping the payoff would be worth it. 

Her hands smoothed over her hips, sliding across the fabric in the front of her skirt.  

The skirt was knee length, a leatherette and held together by individual elastic straps down each side. They were a few inches apart, leaving pale skin to the mercy of eager eyes.  She wore a laced corset underneath it, more skin on show as she covered herself with a neat blazer, leaving the rest to temptation. 

‘It’s new.’ She offered, trying for a seductive smile and a heavy bat of her lashes. 

‘What are you supposed to be anyway? Sexy corporate kitty?’ Claire felt heat climb across her cheeks and slither its way down her neck. She had forgotten about the headband with cat ears she bought and the whiskers she drew on herself with a kohl pencil, trying to keep up the pretence that she had a costume and wasn’t just wearing lingerie. Sexy rolled from his tongue, dancing in her ears and setting her skin on fire. 

He wasn’t hesitant, but confident, choosing his words wisely as Claire swore she caught a gleam in his eye. ‘And what are you supposed to be. Yourself?’ 

Owen shrugged, ‘Thought Raptor Trainer would be a good costume’. She rolled her eyes, unable to help herself against his cocky grin. He thought he was so clever. Owen was interesting, easy to peg and easy to concur but he was interesting to Claire. Different from others certainly didn’t give up and even though he crossed the boundary line on a few small occasions, for the most part, he knew it was there. Above it all, he never seemed to give up on her, no matter how many times she tried to push him away. ‘I honestly didn’t think you would go for this kind of dress-up at all.’ 

He was stuck on it, fascinated, his eyes sliding down her body once again, hands twitching at his sides. He wanted to touch. Claire had him hook, line and sinker. ‘Well, I saw it and thought it would look good against your bike.’ She saw him swallow hard, fingers curling into fists as he held himself back, trying not to launch at her. It was faint, but she heard the rumble of a growl in the back of his throat, fading itself out with the chatter and the music around them. 

Her body had been humming since she got dressed that afternoon, knowing full well that if things went to plan she would have a lot to be excited about. That hum had built to a slow burn, tingling under the surface that now, at his reaction, lit itself alight and started to rush across her body. 

‘You, ah, want to go outside and see if your theory was correct?’ He asked, nervous as he gestured towards the door somewhere in the fog. Claire liked surprising him, he was always breathless and thrown off when she said the unexpected. To think that she could keep a man on his toes, thrilled her. Not once did he show he was intimidated by it. Owen always recovered quickly, showing her a flash of confusion before that smirk grew across his cheeks and he challenged her right back. 

She barely managed a nod before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the throng of people. He stopped at the make-shift bar, asking her if she wanted anything and not moving until she shook her head. Claire wasn’t there to drink.

His bike was sitting outside, away from the other vehicles. There was no streetlight, only the silver wash from the full moon, shining off the metal of his bike’s engine. She felt her heart pick up a beat as her feet carried her across the footpath, Owen by her side making idle conversation. 

‘Didn't expect to see you at a party like this.’ It wasn’t organised by the higher-ups. One of the herbivore trainers was huge on Halloween and couldn't stand that nothing was being done for employees. There was plenty for park guests but nothing they would want to go to in their downtime. So, Pete or Mike or whatever his name was, set this up. Owen was surprised Claire even knew about it. 

‘I’m full of surprises.’ Nonchalant, she shrugged, stepping ahead of him as her shoes hit gravel without pause. His bike was cool under her fingertips, the leather soft and well worn as she grazed her touch up and down the seat before it rose over the cold metal of the handlebars. 

Owen was quiet behind her, admiring her ass no doubt as she leaned over the machine in her admiration of it. Motorcycles were something that had thrilled her, once upon a time, the danger of them felt more real than that of living on an island full of dinosaurs and the fact that Owen insisted upon having his here, with him, drew her in quicker than a flame called to a moth. 

Her fingers danced, gentle as they pasted the plaque branding, ‘Triumph’ pressed proudly in silver decorating the fuel tank. 'You want to hop on?' Owen’s voice was strong behind her, deeper than she had heard it since the last time their bodies touched. She turned, ever so slowly, unsure if the blood rushing south was making her dizzy enough to fall over. Her smile was shy but challenging as she bent, fingers finding the hem of her skirt. Claire could swear she heard Owen swallow, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as his feet scratched across the gravel.

‘God, Claire, you don’t have to straddle it.’ His hand appeared at her thigh, fingers warm against her wrist as he tried to stop her. The wounded, if not startled look she threw him was enough to make him retreat. His hand was still on her wrist, but his touch was no longer meant to discourage her. 

She stepped back with the audacity to look wounded before her features softened into a small smirk. ‘So, just like this then?’ Claire asked, straightening as her skirt remained crumpled, pulled halfway up her thighs. She looked dishevelled, not unlike herself, as Claire took a step back towards the bike, waiting until she felt the coolness of it against her back. She hummed, leaning herself against the machine as Owen stood watch. 

‘Yeah,’ He sighed, breathless, unable to fill his lungs with the cool air that surrounded them. She was a sight and a half, stretched out in front of his bike, her hands propped up behind her. Her blazer was pulled tight over her chest, one button holding it in place, straining for release as her skirt sat just as snug, promising him so much more. ‘Almost perfect.’ He found his feet, boots kicking the gravel as he stepped forward. ‘You been drinking?’ He asked, not unfamiliar to a drunk Claire, a little looser than the corporate woman he saw from day to day. This wasn’t her. She shook her head, holding his gaze in the moonlight. ‘Good.’ The answer was rough as his hand raised, reaching for her. His fingers found the button of her blazer, flicking it in a fluid motion to set the fabric free. It breezed down her sides, revealing the corset Claire wore, black lace, sheer in places. Owen’s breathing grew deeper, eyes closing for a split second as she stood there, ignited by the moonlight. ‘Much better,’ he muttered, stepping closer, his large hands found her waist. 

It was Claire’s turn to feel breathless, lost in his warm touch as her body shivered. She wanted to ask, a question poised on her lips. Instead, their eyes did the talking, dancing their dance as green met green. She had told him she didn’t want a second date, that she didn’t see the two of them as compatible. That, given enough time, he would get sick of her. She needed him now, more than she needed air and the feeling had been bothering her for weeks. 

‘Just once?’ He asked, reading her mind, and falling prey to her plan. He had to be the one to cave. Maybe, if only for a minute, Claire wanted to hold the power over him. For once, she wanted to be the cocky one self-assured by her wiles and his want for her. Just for a minute, Claire wanted to feel how Owen had felt when she had hissed at him before pressing up on her toes and giving in to a needy kiss. 

She nodded and it was all he needed. Before they knew it, Owen’s mouth was on hers, soft lips and warm stubble against her silk cheeks. Claire opened to him easily, her walls crashing down before they touched as she revelled in the feeling of his arm sliding around her back to pull her body flush with his. She didn’t mean to whimper, but the sound released itself from her throat before she even felt the need. He had pulled it from her so effortlessly, one hand on the small of her back while the other slid up into her hair. His large thumb was stroking at her neck and behind her ear, hitting the base of her headband with every upward stroke. It fell from her head within seconds, toppling down the back of her skull where Owen finally freed it and tossed it into the night. 

Claire wanted to be consumed by him, standing in heels in the gravel, pushing up onto her toes, her hands gripping onto his shirt, his vest, the bare skin of his neck and finding strands of his hair, here and there, everywhere all at once and not at all. She needed purchase, felt that maybe she could stand on the seat of his bike and tower over him like a goddess. She wanted to be with him, near him, one with his heart beating in his chest. She had always wondered what it would feel like to be so deep in desire that the only need that throbbed within her was to crawl into the cracks of another body and bury herself inside of them. She wondered if he felt like that when their clothes were gone when he had the chance to push the core of himself into her warmth. Did he feel whole? Did it shroud him in a blissful feeling or only partly? Could she do that for someone and could she feel loved in the same way?

She stopped her hands on his cheeks, lips pulling away from his as Owen chased her mouth. This wasn’t love, Claire needed to remind herself. Gulping in deep breaths she let the chill of the night wash over her. This was lust, pure and raw but nothing more than that.

‘You alright?’ He asked, breathless and panting. There was a heavy hand on her hip, long thick fingers having slid themselves inside her skirt, sitting against her bare flesh and burning there. Her nod was easy as she filled it with a reassuring smile. She was drawn away for a second, worried by her thoughts before she pushed back into him, meeting his lust with hers and challenging the strength of the man’s worship.

Impatient hands found the zip on her skirt, leaving fat fingers to pull on the tag. She was almost ready to shimmy out of it when laughter met her ears and Owen’s body tensed around hers. She couldn’t move. Only stood still as the sound of people past them. ‘They didn’t see us.’ He offered, redoing the zip as his hands slid around to the front of her waist. ‘But, do you … ah, do you think we should take this elsewhere?’ Even in the light of night, she could see the warmth on his cheeks and arousal in his eyes. 

‘Is your bike safe?’ She asked, partly stepping away from it as she assessed his vehicle. ‘I’ve never ridden one before.’ Her statement was almost an insinuation. Even though her car was in the lot with everyone else's nearby, Claire was choosing this. 

‘Mostly.’ He answered with a shrug. Sometimes it stuttered, faltering at high speeds and promising to send him flying. Hell, it was a motorcycle. It wasn’t all that safe. She could see his hesitancy, wasn’t sure if he wanted her on it. Didn’t know if he could keep her safe. ‘My bungalow isn’t far from here.’ And yet, they could just as easily walk to her apartment. ‘I’ll go slow.’ He told her with a wink, his hand lingering on her hip as he moved for the bike. ‘You want me to teach you?’ He asked, more so he could get her to ride in front of him. Owen knew too, that Claire was a curious creature and if a learning opportunity showed itself, she would be more than happy to take it. 

He dropped to his knees when she nodded, kneeling in the dirt as his hands found the backs of her thighs. She had tried to push her skirt up earlier, ready to climb onto his bike and Owen stopped her. Now, he was sure the action was necessary as his hands found the fabric and slid it further up her thighs. 

‘You’re not wearing underwear, are you?’ He asked, the question lingering on his mind. 

Looking down at him with her teeth on her lip, Claire shook her head. Owen’s groan was animalistic, his forehead falling to her skin. She could feel him concentrating on deep breaths as his hands gripped tightly to her skin. ‘Fuck,’ drifted from his lips quietly, mouth grazing against her thigh before he kissed the skin there, just below the fabric of her skirt. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’

She grinned, ‘Maybe’. 

Just like that, he was on his feet again, patting the seat of his gunmetal Triumph Scrambler and telling her to hop on. 

His bike was broad and thrilling beneath her thighs but was nothing compared to the feeling of Owen behind her. His chest was strong, solid as he wrapped himself around her, holding her to him tightly as his arms reached for the handlebars. The machine roared to life, eliciting a short gasp from Claire in her surprise. She had been too focused on him, the man around her, rather than the thing they were on. Owen chuckled in her ear, the sound deep and vibrating with the bike as it send shivers down her spine. It pooled in her gut, building with white-hot arousal as she lost herself in the feeling of his cheek against hers. 

‘Hold on tight.’ His words were punctuated with the squeeze of his arms against her sides. The engine roared, rumbling beneath their bodies as Claire felt a shift in Owen behind her.

It was with unspeakable ease that Owen navigated them though barely used service roads. He was the only thing down that way of the island. Claire was sure that one day the park would extend to his little alcove and encroach on his space, eventually pushing Owen out and into apartment living. She wondered if he would still be there by then or if the choice between his job and his solitude would be what it took to make him quit. 

She had to give him kudos for the location. It was peaceful out there. Still. In the distance she could hear the calls and chatter of ancient beasts, happily settling down for their quiet lives away from entertaining. The first time she was out there the serenity and raw purity of it reminded Claire of her early days on the island before it was finished when the waterfalls and jungles were left to that of bright-minded interns. Now, they were overcrowded and tainted by the footprint of tourists. But, Owen’s bungalow and the land it sat on seemed to have that untouched feel. It was just him out there, his bike, and the fish in the lake. He lived around the dinosaurs, able to hear them but never see them like they were a closely guarded secret that hovered over his life. She lived for the magic of it and wondered if she had known this could have been a choice, would she have asked for a house of her own in a secluded part of the park? He might just let her share it, if she asked nicely, setting out a plot of land across from his bungalow where she could build a more liveable abode. But then, it would mean Owen Grady was her neighbour and Claire wasn’t sure how close she wanted him. Then again … in situations like this night, it would have been handy having him only a few steps away. 

‘You alright?’ Owen asked, his body peeling away from hers until he was standing in the grass by the bike, concerned eyes watching her. Smudged on his cheeks was the faint hint of her drawn-on whiskers, his nose marked too. She hadn’t noticed it before they left, her mind a little dazed from their kisses, but now she saw it as clear as day. Claire grinned, feeling every inch of the fond and joyous emotion that filled her as she leant in to kiss him once again. 

She had missed him, even in their short ride. Her lips had almost forgotten the warm pressure of his and the impatient push of his tongue. This was it, they were alone now, left to the vacancy of his island home where they could do and be as they please without disturbance. Claire didn’t miss a beat. With her arms around his neck, she lifted her leg, sliding it past the fuel tank as she drew her body closer to his. Owen stopped her before her foot joined the other, her heel clicking against the tank as his hand touched the skin of her knee. ‘I just gotta …’ He mumbled against her lips, breaking their kiss as he dropped to his knees. His lips peppered kisses up her legs, jumping from one to the next as his hand held her knee still bent above the body of his bike. 

It was her easy laughter that caused him to smile, grinning as he climbed up her legs with fat kisses until he met the twitching skin of her upper thighs. Her giggles faded into an easy moan when Owen closed his mouth over her sex. 

Fingers scratched the leather of the bike seat, Claire desperate for something to hold onto as her body teetered on the edge. It felt like the world was moving around her in slow motion as Owen dragged his tongue across the sensitive flesh of her labia, setting Claire into a world of impatient agony as the fire within her kept sparking but failed to ignite. It wasn’t because she wasn’t thrilled with what he was doing, but because he was moving to torture her rather than pleasure, stroking but not quite hitting the spot that would send her into oblivion. 

Owen shifted, moving his weight on his knees so he could reach his hands up her back, holding her steady as Claire leaned into the touch, trapped in her position as her hips cantered against his face. She moaned sound long and low stretching out into the silent night air around them without a single worry of being overheard. 

He had freed her, sexual liberation wracking her body as Claire threw her head back, leaving her neck bare to the skies and filling the stars with her impatient cries. She felt brave, lifting a hand from its indent on his bike seat to bury it in Owen’s hair. Her nails scratched, trying to convey in movement what her throat wouldn’t let out. He was grinning, sly as a fox between her thighs with a chuckle on her skin that made her fingers dig deeper. Owen pulled it from her, beckoning each cry with a flick of his tongue, the hand still holding her thigh, rubbing soothing lines against her skin as she grew louder and less restrained. 

Owen didn’t let up until she had doubled over, hands clinging to his back as she lay bowed over his head. She was panting in his ear, leg shaking in his hand as her fingers twitched against his back pulling on the shirt he wore before briefly releasing it. It took Claire several minutes to catch her breath and find her strength before her hands pushed against Owen’s shoulders to right herself. He was grinning when she met his eyes, looking up at her like she held the world in the palm of her hands.

‘There’s my kitten,’ he grinned, voice rough as he pushed himself up into a stand. Claire had thought, back at the party, that Owen had discarded her cat-eared headband. But, when he placed it back on her head, pushing her bangs back with it she realised that assumption had been wrong. 

Claire wanted to roll her eyes and tell him she wasn’t his. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She liked being his in situations like this. Claire felt treasured, adored, respected even. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be his full-time. But for brief moments, she enjoyed what could come from being in Owen’s inner rings. 

He kissed her, distracting Claire from her thoughts as she tasted herself on his needy tongue. 

‘Inside. Now.’ She growled against his lips, pushing against him a little as she found the strength to challenge him. The sound he made in response was a mournful whimper. She felt it settle against her bones as his hands held her hips tightly. If Owen had his way with it, he would have fucked her against his bike to fulfil some playboy wet dream. For now, she was happy to deny him. ‘It’s cold,’ She whined back, shivering for emphasis as she nipped at his bottom lip.

The rest was a blur. Moving from the bike to Owen’s bungalow, shedding their clothes and landing in his bed. She could remember him faltering with the clasps and ties, the inconvenience stalling them for a minute until he figured it out. His frustrated grunts puffed against her neck, sending goosebumps down her spine as she sat patiently waiting to be undressed. 

If anything, Owen was overqualified in making up for the lost time. His touch was hot, heavy, and knew exactly where to pinch, flick and soothe. He was everywhere all at once, overwhelming her senses now that she didn’t have to worry about falling off his bike. Her skin was bare and sensitive to him, his calloused hands, his coarse hair. He was bigger than she was dizzyingly so as he hovered above her. 

‘You ready?’ He asked like his fingers weren’t currently sitting sticky on the outside of her thigh. She could feel him, just there, hovering, hesitating, waiting for Claire to make the call. ‘I remember it wasn’t a comfy fit last time.’ There was concern in his eye but mirth on his lips. The bastard was happy with himself that he was almost too much for her. She gave him a small nod, affirmation but chose to not entertain his last comment. His ego was being stroked enough with her presence.

She gave him a small nod as she rolled her eyes and forced a scoff in response to his last comment. ‘You’re too much.’ 

‘I mean, you didn’t exactly complain last time. And, here you are, in my bed again. I’d say, Claire Dearing, I’m exactly what you want.’ He kissed her cheek, the gesture fond and familial more than any of the others had been. ‘You like that too-full feeling, don’t you?’ He punctuated with a sharp thrust forward, one hand holding her hip down as the other guided himself inside of her. She grunted, eyes rolling again, this time in a mix between pleasure and pain as Owen withdrew. A second grunt game with his next thrust, twisting into a moan as he slid deeper, stretching her inner walls in a way that had her coming back for more. 

He wasn’t wrong. She was an addict for it, driven for the next opportunity as her body longed in between each experience. They had only had sex once and yet she was sniffing him out, luring him into it just so she could see if that slight discomfort would return for a few seconds more. And oh, how it did. 

Claire couldn’t feel anything beyond the throb of the man pushing in and out of her centre. His erection was hot and showing no signs of relenting as she rolled her hips against his, adjusting to the feeling. Owen lived for every pant and moan that escaped her lips with each inward thrust. The sigh she released when he pulled out of her fully, body relaxing for a split second before he pushed forward again, pulling another grunt from her throat. He groaned, sound gritty and dry as he succumbed to the warmth of her body. 

Owen knew he needed to savour it. That the first time was sheer luck and, this had to be an impossible daydream. It was Halloween after all, maybe some island witch had put a spell on him and he would wake up naked, alone and feeling all too empty. Claire Dearing wasn’t the kind of woman who lingered in the presence of men. She struck once, like lightning, shining white-hot energy into his life for a flash before she was gone. A second go-round? This was rare enough. He had mapped every freckle on the inside of her legs, from the small patch on her stomach up to the ones that speckled her chest. She was without imperfections, perfect from head to toe in silk-like skin that smelt like a dream. Maybe it was a dream, she responded to every touch, every push, every twitch and every graze of his hand. Her body sighed, moaned, whimpered and cried. She arched into him, pushed back or rocked her hips in time. Surely, he was dreaming all that? He couldn’t be that good for her. Not the elusive Dearing. Not the woman he wanted to bag but knew he never could. 

Distracted, Claire managed to overpower him. Owen’s back hit the mattress before he realised what had happened. She was grinning above him, happy as a fat cat as her lips tugged on his bottom one, teeth not letting him go. Owen growled, hands squeezing at her thighs. He didn’t like having his power taken away, not as she set the pace above him. But, this was Claire, stretched out, sitting in his lap, nothing but smooth skin from the plains of her stomach to the curve of her breasts. This he liked, this he could live with if it was Claire taking him out for a ride. 

Her hand was cautious on his chest, fingers barely touching as she rocked her hips against his. She was trying to hold herself up, to keep herself steady as she set a torturously slow pace. He wanted to overthrow her, regain control and show her how it was done but there was a concentration set on Claire’s brow that stopped him. 

She was close, unbearably so. Claire’s eyes were pinched shut and her bottom lip was held between her teeth, slightly gnawing on it as she moved her weight towards the hand on his chest. Her hips moved over his, rolling and moving in figure-eights as he tried his best not to buck into her and throw the woman off. She was mesmerising. Not that she wasn’t already. Owen had been infatuated with her for years, but this felt like a special viewing. Like he was privy to a side of Claire not many had the privilege to see. He watched her, feeling lucky that he had the chance, head surrounded by his pillows as the moonlight snuck in through the blinds to illuminate her hair. 

Men in the navy spoke about sirens, beautiful women who lured them into the sea. Owen wasn’t sure they existed, along with any mythology but he was sure Claire had it in her. A sirens song, beckoning him to the depths of nothingness on false promises of forever with her. She was a goddess, full of power and strength. A woman unlike any other. 

His hands were soft on her hips, thumbs rubbing easily lines against her skin until one drifted, broke away at the sound of her frustrated sigh. Something just wasn’t hitting the spot she needed, Claire grinding against him relentlessly, searching for the release they were both expecting to receive. His hand slid past her belly, flat palm to her skin as he felt the muscles beneath it twitch at his touch. Still, she didn’t sense what he was doing until his thumb rolled over her clit. 

‘Fuck,’ she swore into the dark of his bedroom, the word and feeling overtaking her. Owen did it again, slower, purposely driven. She hissed, body leaning into his touch. He felt something inside her clamp down, the warmth of her body gripping onto his. The sensation alone nearly sent Owen over the edge, his arousal suddenly returning to him like it had been living behind a veil for the last few minutes.  

Owen echoed her sentiment, overcome with his need as his body honed into every inch of hers. His thumb rolled once again, flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves on the return to its resting place. She jumped, body caught off guard by the electricity he sent sparking through her nervous system. She rocked forward, chasing the sensation as her cries stung together in a needy, desperate sound. She was right on the edge, rocking herself harder and faster as a brave hand found his wrist and pushed it down her belly. She wanted his hand right where her desire was pooling, sure his touch could set off the release she was looking for. 

He was never one to deny the primal urges of a sexual partner. If that’s what she wanted, it was what she got. Most of the time those urges are never wrong. Owen’s hand was steady, broad as his fingers slid past her slick skin, feeling where their bodies met for a brief moment before he drew his touch back to the epicentre of her lust. He could hear it, the end of oblivion mounting her cries as Claire’s back straightened and her neck laid bare to the cool air. 

She fell from the heavens, shuddering as she persisted in keeping herself upright. Owen was nothing but a spectator. He brought her to that ledge and tugged her over it. What he would give to continue to be a bystander to this glorious oblivion, her moan echoing in his ears as Owen swore he heard his name whispered on her lips. He was high on it, head spinning as she twitched, hips rolling slowly, trying to chase the ends of her orgasm, prolonging it for as long as she could. 

The patter of rain on his roof startled him but not as much as Claire’s sweet breathless chuckle. The sound radiated from her as her body returned from its high, slowly crumbling into a neat, vanilla-scented pile on his chest. The rain carried on. 

‘Can I stay here tonight?’ She asked quietly, hips shifting with his erection still straining inside of her. Owen hadn’t thought about how she would get home or where exactly her car was parked. All he knew was that he drove her here. Maybe she had planned to walk and the rain had now ruined that idea. Nevertheless, she was asking if she could stay here at his bungalow with him. 

His hand snaked down her bare back, counting her ribs as he tried to distract himself. ‘Yeah,’ he cleared his throat, a lump forming around his words. ‘You can stay. Whenever you want, always, hell, you don’t even need to ask.’ Owen couldn’t shut his mouth, words flying here and there, his body useless to catch them. Claire smiled at him, her head propped up by her hands as she leaned on his chest. Her kitten whiskers were still in place and the smudge on her nose stubbornly remained. It made her smile all the sweeter as her green eyes shone just for him. 

‘Good.’ Claire hummed, moving to press her lips to his as she sat up once again. Owen was mournful of the loss of her body against his and then deeper again when he felt her pull away from him. She wasn’t gone long. Her fingers picked up an immediate trail just below his belly button, nails dragging south. 

He flinched when her lips met the base of his cock, sliding around his flesh as her nails dug into his thigh. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to, that he didn’t expect it. But, one-touch and he was an addict, drawn to the velvet of her lips and silk of her tongue. His head fell back, eyes closing when he felt her take him into her mouth, lips sliding down his shaft as Owen felt the tip of his erection touch the back of her throat. It was all sensation after that, he couldn’t speak, could only roll his eyes into the back of his head and gasp for air. It was like their roles had reversed. It was now Claire with the impatient touch and the greedy kiss. Each move was calculated, her hand twisting, applying pressure to the base of his cock as her tongue worked on teasing the sensitive tip. He felt her everywhere, his skin on fire with her touch, never wanting it to end but desperate to kiss her again.

Claire was goal orientated. Nothing was getting between her and Owen’s orgasm, even when he pulled at her arms with needy little sounds. She only shook her head or stopped to level him with a menacing glare. He was weak for it, trying again just to catch the stern glare of her gaze so he could link it back to all the times she had looked at him in that way outside of a sexual setting. He was going to find himself with an erection every time he stopped listening in a project meeting from now on until the end of time. 

It was the thought of Claire glaring at him in one of her tight business skirts, not unlike the one she wore tonight, that finally pushed him over the edge. He got that. Corporate woman putting him in his place, making him weak at the knees, letting him fuck her. That Claire handed herself over to him willingly that night. The setting would have been all the sweeter if it had been in her office, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and Owen was just as happy with his bungalow. Not to mention his bike. 

She grinned at him like the cat who got the canary, his ejaculate dripping down her chin. Owen still wasn’t sure who was smiling down on him as he reached for her, taking her face in his hands and she crawled back up his body until they were chin to chin. ‘Sorry,’ Claire apologised. ‘I really wanted to do that.’ 

He had no complaints. Maybe he had one. She would eventually get up from his bed and never return. He wondered briefly if it was too late to make an offering to whichever spirits were currently haunting their island. 

Owen didn’t want to force Claire to stay but he certainly wanted to see her return of her own accord. Then again, he had seemingly learned enough about her to maybe woo her once again.

[i-draw-you-wont-see-it]

Maybe Tomorrow Would Be A Better Day

My first fanfiction I’m posting here. I know it’s not 100% accurate to the events of Pokémon Legends Arceus, but I still had fun. Spoiler alert for post-game content!

~~~~~

Volo sighed, glancing at Akari one last time before turning and walking down the steps. The Temple of Sinnoh had been broken, columns now turned spears that pierce into the Heavens. His head was thumping in agony, and his heart was practically beating out of his chest. He gripped tightly onto his now fainted Togekiss’ ball. She fought hard…

Akari had called for him, but he simply tuned her out, her voice fading into the background. As he grew farther from her, he felt the need to scream. Not anything particular, though. Volo descended into the small cave before it opened back into the now dark sky. He made his way down the snowy slope, sneaking past the alpha Electivire with ease. When his feet hit the grass, he made a Combeeline towards a tree where his bag and Ginkgo Guild clothing had been discarded in favor of his Arceus themed attire.

The more he wore the outfit, the more angry it made him. His God, the one he was striving to meet and join forces with… Didn’t want him… Instead, it chose a teenage girl over him. He was loyal to Arceus, and as far as Volo knew, Akari wasn’t. This fact angered Volo to his core. He slipped out of the outfit that he now wanted to tear to shreds, and pulled the Ginkgo uniform back on. Shoving the other outfit into his bag carelessly, he sat down on his knees. Volo let himself fall down onto the ground, his mouth opening and a loud scream fell out. It echoed harshly against the jagged rocks of Mount Coronet.  As far as Volo knew, it could have reached Akari all the way back at the temple. The longer it went, the more he cringed at his own voice.  As his throat grew scratchier, he let the scream fade. He gripped at the grass, his breathing erratic.

All the things he did to meet Arceus were for nothing. He had failed… And it was all because of that stupid girl… Volo didn’t realize he was now crying until he saw the tears fall off his cheeks onto the blades of grass. He felt embarrassed, even though no one was around to see him in this state. He let himself fall onto his side, covering his face with his hands. Silently, he quivered, the tears dampening his sleeves. Volo tried desperately to contain his choked sobs, but doing so only made them louder. After a few minutes, he stopped crying enough that his vision wasn’t nearly as blurry.

The air was thick and cold, and it sent a shiver down his spine. It was only growing darker, and he assumed Akari would be returning from the temple-or lack there of soon. Why she hadn’t already returned was beyond him. Volo would be torn to shreds out of embarrassment if she saw him like this. Reluctantly, he got up, his bottom lip still quivering. He shakily pulled his over-sized bag onto his back and quickly descended down the mountain. Volo kept his head down, his hair and cap obscuring most of his face. Tears still streaked his flushed red cheeks, but he tried to rub them away, only for them to appear again in an instant. He gave up, and just let them flow down his face. He didn’t care. No one could see him.

Volo had been through a lot, sure, but this whole event was what made him crumble. His legs felt like jelly as he continued his walk down the slopes of Mount Coronet. He thought he had what it took, but Arceus clearly disagreed. Sure… Volo could admit that Akari was strong and had a true heart. But so didn’t he? Was his view of himself so twisted that he believed that he and Akari were both the same? Akari was caring, compassionate, powerful, strong willed… Was Volo not also those things? He loved his Pokémon, he trained them with as much compassion and thoughtfulness as Akari likely did. His Pokémon loved him though… Right?

He felt the tears begin to come back stronger the more he thought about it. His head began pounding as he tried to think of anything else. Once he thought he was safe from the thoughts, Akari or Arceus would always invade, sending a wave of anger and sadness washing over him. Volo felt the need to scream again, but he had screamed so loud and for so long before that his throat was scratchy. There was dazzling honey somewhere in his bag… But he wouldn’t be surprised if the lid had come loose and spilled all over his other wares, like it had done many times before.

Recently, Volo had found himself using his own wares more than he had been selling them. His large bag had been more a use to himself than to others. It was packed to the brim with anything he could ever need. Food, potions, revives, a bit of booze for when things got sour, bandages, and numerous sketchbooks and notebooks, documenting everything he saw in Hisui. Even though the Survey Corps had been slaving over their own Pokedéx for months, Volo had been crafting his own. He adored drawing, and would try to get as close to the Pokémon as possible so he could draw every detail as accurately as he could. Though this resulted in many scrapes and scratches littered across his body.

Finally, his mind was off of Arceus. He could think about other things. Like where he would go after this. He can’t just return to Jubilife as if nothing had ever happened. Giratina surely made plenty of noise when he fled, and Akari would certainly tell everyone in the village-And… There he goes again. Thinking about her. Every good memory he had with her was tainted, and he likely won’t ever forgive her. Though, the more he thought about it, a sense of pride welled up inside him. He was so strong, that no one in the present could defeat him, so Arceus had to drag someone from the future to take him down. It made him curious… Was every trainer in the future strong, or did Arceus just pick the best of the best?

The only people here that could even have a chance against Volo would be Ingo and Kamado, and still, one of them was from the future too. From what the Warden had told him, it sounded like Ingo was an expert with Pokémon, and battled with them every day. It piqued Volo’s interest, but he knew the Warden had his own business to attend to, so he never bothered him over it. Plus, Warden Ingo had suffered from memory loss upon arrival in Hisui, and doesn’t recall everything from his past life. Kamado however… He was strong, Volo would say that. But he didn’t have six Pokémon, and that would likely be his downfall.

Everyone else in Hisui had no more than three Pokémon. Maybe four, but that was quite rare. During his and Akari's battle, he technically used eight Pokémon, with Giratina’s two forms and his full team. Oh, the look on her face when Giratina rose from behind the temple. That was a moment Volo would truly relish for as long as he lived. The pure terror as she backed up, nearly tripping down the stairs. Her mouth slightly agape, small beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The way she scrambled through her satchel for any revives or potions. His team was incredibly strong, managing to knock out five of her six Pokémon, and bring her final one to it’s last dying breath. But, with the potions she had. The ones Volo himself had given her; and the skillful dodging of her Typhlosion, her team was in perfect shape, and took down Giratina seemingly easy. As she went to hug her Pokémon, Volo couldn’t help but chuckle.

Giratina, in a flash of light, changed into it’s alternate form. With full health, it struck a blow right down on Akari’s Luxray, knocking it out cold. A shriek of terror came from her as she brought it back into the ball. Her Typhlosion would be the best bet. With the elegant throw of the ball, out came the menacing Pokémon. With more dodging and critical hits, the Renegade Pokémon finally gave up. It let out a massive roar, nearly knocking Volo and Akari off their feet. It slunk away down the mountain, heading towards the Cobalt Coastlands.

Volo looked back on what just took place less than an hour ago. He had… Mixed feelings. He was angry at himself that he hadn’t been even stronger. Angry at Giratina for not sticking around… And especially angry at Akari. But for what specific thing? Was there even one thing? Was he angry that she won? Sure… Was he angry that a teenage girl was stronger than him? Absolutely. Was he angry at Arceus? More than anything.

He had finally made it mostly down the mountain, his legs now aching fiercely. His mind drifted back to his homing situation. The clans and Jubilife Village were an absolute no. Cogita was a maybe, but he knew she would be able to pry an answer out of him quickly, and she would disown him immediately. The last thing he wanted was to face Cogita’s wrath. So… Where to? Some wardens had their own makeshift homes closer to their nobles. But he wasn’t exactly on buddy buddy terms with any of them. Volo could do what he had always done. Pitch his tent and bedroll anywhere he could find, and hope he didn’t get mauled by an alpha Pokémon in his sleep. It’s worked effectively so far, so why not continue doing it?

Leaving Hisui crossed his mind, but he never considered it. Even after the bad memories he had here, he couldn’t leave. The legends and myths were what kept him going every day, in hopes of discovering something new. He never did, but maybe the day would come. The day where his name would be in history books. ‘Volo: Researcher of Myths’. The title made him excited.

Looking around the area, he realized he was well into the Obsidian Fieldlands. Deciding it was time to sleep, he located a small area out of the way of any human or Pokémon, and Combeelined directly towards it. Chucking his bag on the ground, he unzipped the largest compartment and pulled out a very compressed, very tiny tent. Volo was shocked it even fit in the first place, but it did. He began setting it up, and within minutes it was done. It was wrinkled at every edge, and nearly broken, but it would do. Volo unhooked the bedroll from the top of his bag and threw it out, pushing it into the tent. It was definitely not for anyone over the height of 5’7. Yet here he was, a 6’3 man trying every possible way to feel comfortable. After getting into a good enough position, he sighed, closing his eyes. His arms felt heavy and he could practically feel the bags under his eyes.

Glancing out at the sky one more time, he hummed to himself, before drifting off to sleep. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day…

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 14: Dinner as a Family: Part 2

Warnings: blood, strong language, sexual themes, nipple play, penetrative sex

Summary: Miranda finally makes it known why Juniper’s place at dinner was important

Feedback appreciated. 18+

When the main course was served the maids brought out plates with cuts of red meat and delicate steamed vegetables.

Juniper cut into the meat, seeing blood ooze under her knife. Calling it rare was reaching.

In the past meat like this would have turned poor Juniper’s stomach. But now, with a monster waiting in her belly, the smell mixed with the thick wine made her mouth water.

She took a large bite, eagerly starting to cut a second as she chewed.

Her enthusiasm took the rest of the table off guard. Heisenberg’s jaw tightened worriedly.

“Enjoy it, Dear?” Alicina smiled smugly.

Juniper nodded, her pupils dilated ever so slightly.

The meal went by with little talk, the table feeling tight. Heisenberg did little more than pick at his food, eating around the more well-done edges of the meat and filling up on bread.

Juniper felt a type of hunger she couldn’t describe, finishing her plate and a second glass of wine.

She glanced around the table: Angie was speaking to Donna, both nodding and deep in the conversation. Moraue was having a time of trying to cut his meat, resorting to just shoving the whole piece into his widened mouth. Lady Dimitrescu was trying to be delicate with her silverware, something her large hands made very difficult. And lastly, Miranda took small bites, eyes always moving.

Juniper’s face felt hot, licking her teeth. She stood from the table, stiffening a bit when she felt multiple eyes follow her. Heisenberg looked at her questioningly.

“Just…need to visit the bathroom.” She mumbled awkwardly.

Lady Dimitrescu raised her head, snapping her finger once. A maid quickly came into the hall.

“Show dear Juniper to the guest bath.” She instructed.

The maid bowed, turning to Juniper, “This way m’lady.”

Excusing herself, Juniper quickly followed the girl.

Heisenberg frowned down at his plate, pushing it away slightly.

“You seem very taken with her.” Miranda observed, peering over the top of her wine glass.

When Heisenberg didn’t respond she continued, “It’s a good thing, you’ve never gotten along well with your other siblings.”

Her words turned his stomach. “Juniper isn’t a Lord.” He reminded her, keeping his voice even.

“Ah, but that is one of the reasons I asked you here.” She smiled.

He looked at her curiously, worry rimming his eyes.

“I think our little Juniper could grow into Lordship, in time.” Mother Miranda nodded, taking a long sip from her glass, “She just needs to nurture her abilities.”

She wanted Juniper to become a lord?

Heisenberg frowned, “And what do you have in mind?”

“Always impatient.” Her eyes narrowed, “I want you to take her on the hunt.”

“Why?” He spoke too quickly, earning him a scolding look.

“Now, Heisenberg, you can’t expect to keep her holed up in that dump of a factory forever now, can you?” Lady Dimitrescu commented.

Before he could bark back Miranda confirmed, “I think her unique abilities will be suited perfectly for the task.”

Heisenberg remembered her mutated form and it’s resemblance to the varcolacs, wondering how much about Juniper’s powers she knew about.

“She isn’t ready.” He tried to argue.

“This isn’t up for debate.” Miranda’s voice commanding, “Think of it as a test, to really see her powers.”

Heisenberg nodded, worry curdling his gut.

~

Juniper washed her hands in the large marble sink. Still feeling flushed, she splashed cold water onto her face. She looked up, eyes catching her own gaze in the gilded mirror.

Her breath stuck fast in her throat, heartbeat quickening.

Her reflection looked wrong, the longer she looked the more it twisted before her: her eyes were dark and blown out, almost wild, her jaw was extended, fangs peeking out.

She took a shaking breath seeing more eyes open along her forehead.

Juniper reached up a shaking hand, feeling along her face, smooth skin greeted her fingertips. She blinked, the image gone.

She looked at herself again, flushed and fearful, but it was her.

She touched the surface, sucking in a shaking breath.

What was hidden just beneath her skin?

~

Juniper returned to the table, looking slightly pale.

“You alright?” Heisenberg asked, concern rimming his eyes.

“I’m fine.” She lied, taking her seat. He didn’t look convinced but relented for the time being.

For dessert they were all served their own savarină cake. It was small and golden colored, soaked in rum, filled with sweet cream and topped with blueberry jelly.

Juniper looked up to see Angie giving little grabby hands to her keeper. Donna cut her cake in half, offering one side to Angie. Juniper couldn’t help her lips twitch, as Angie squealed with glee.

Ever a fan of sweets, and seeing this as the most edible thing they were served other than the bread, Heisenberg ate his in a few swift bites.

He glanced over to find Juniper doing little more than pick at the cake.

“You sure you’re ok, Doll?” He pressed in a little more than a whisper.

“I…may have drank too much wine.”

“Hmm.”

“Would you like my dessert? I don’t think I can manage it.”

He perked up almost excitedly. They exchanged plates: Juniper taking his clean one and him her serving. The second cake didn’t fare much better, or longer for that matter.

Once dessert was finished and the maids cleared away the plates, Miranda stood.

“Thank you again, all my dear children.” She nodded to them each, “I trust everyone will play their part during the Hunt?”

The table murmured a yes, Heisenberg unable to meet her eyes.

“Good, then I will take my leave.” She spoke swiftly. Before she could make it to the door Lady Dimitrescu stood to follow, wanting to show Miranda a few last minute things.

“Well…not eat and run.” Heisenberg stretched before standing, “But I hate this fucking castle.”

He leaned against his hammer as Juniper said her goodbyes.

Donna gave her a sweet little wave, Angie practically screamed a heartfelt goodbye, and Moraue thanked her again for her kindness.

Finding their way back to the entryway, Juniper made a sound of realization.

“Oh! My coat!” She suddenly looked worried.

“Where’d you leave it, Buttercup?” Heisenberg sat his hammer down as he spoke.

Thinking for a moment she snapped her finger, “It’s in the changing room, with my old dress.”

“Let’s go get it.” Heisenberg started to stride away, picking his hammer up. Juniper rushed to keep up.

They retraced their steps, finding the changing room rather quickly. Juniper went in, relieved to find her clothing still folded just where she’d left it. Turning around, she almost jumped,e seeing Heisenberg standing behind her.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” Juniper hissed.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He chuckled looking into a wardrobe, “You think the mega bitch keeps her fancy ass hats in here?”

Juniper pulled on his arm, “Lets go.”

“Ah!” Heisenberg straightened, holding a black lace veil, “Not a hat but one of the girls frilly shit.”

He draped the fabric over his hat, pulling it down around his head, like a babushka.

“Look good Doll?” His lips curled in a shit eating grin.

“Heis…” Juniper tried to stifle a giggle to not encourage him.

“What else do you think is in here?” He rummaged in the wardrobe again, “Think there's a sexy little dress for me?”

“Sexy?” Juniper smirked.

He looked back at her, “Hell yea. That dress makes me want to take you right here.”

Juniper flushed.

Seeing her reaction he pulled the veil away, tossing it to the floor and pulling Juniper to his chest. Looking down through her chest window he licked his dry lips.

“How about we go find an empty room and get you out of that little number for a while, hm?”

The thought of Heisenberg taking her within the home of his least favorite person made a small shiver of excitement run down her spine.

“Only if we’re careful…and fast.” She gulped.

Smiling roguishly, “Well be gone before anyone notices.”

~

After opening several doors and racing quietly down the halls, they finally discovered a free bedroom. It was opulent, as were most rooms in the castle, but had the stale air of dust. It felt safe and far enough away from the night's festivities to serve them well.

Heisenberg walked in whistling, “Damn, swanky!”

Juniper went in more timidly, closing and locking the door. Heisenberg turned and looked her over. “Aw, you look so shy, kitten.” He smirked.

She shot him a look.

“I’m just worried.”

“Why?”

“The…sisters.”

“You worried about the bugs?” He smirked, looking towards the large windows. His eyes narrowed for a moment as the handle rattled open, the window burst open with an icy breeze.

“There,” he soothed, “No bugs will bother us now.”

He slipped his hand into the chest window of her  dress, fondling her breasts. Juniper mewled, feeling him lightly tug at her piercings.

“Careful” her words were a whisper.

Heisenberg kissed down her neck, finding her sweet spot and biting down. She gasped, feeling warmth bloom between her legs.

He lathed his tongue over the mark, groaning out slightly. She felt him take a fistful of the dress, pulling out of his grip. He gave her a warning look, pale eyes narrow.

“Don’t rip this dress!” She hissed. He had nearly closed the distance to do just that, but halted when he saw her gather up the material and pull it over her head.

Her skin prickled in the cold air, she tossed the clothing away, falling back against the fancy bed in only her boots.

“You didn’t wear any panties?” Heisenberg’s face split wolfishly, more blood rushing to his cock.

“I knew you couldn’t be a good boy all night.” She rubbed her thighs together, “Now get over here before we get caught.”

Ever wanting to please her, he instantly complied, unzipping his pants and letting his belt fall free as he closed the distance.

His skin was hot and welcoming as he pressed down onto her, crashing his lips into her own.

Juniper’s hand drifted to his chest. His piercing had long since fully healed, not needing as much time as normal humans.

She purred mischievously as she tugged on his nipple, rolling the metal between her fingers.

He hissed out, pulling away to darkly chuckle, “Oh honey, now is not the time.”

She gave it another tug, “What do you always say to me?” She tried to mimic his voice the best she could, it was a poor imitation still, “Sing for me!”

He pulled away with a huff. Before she could react he flipped her over, pushing her face into the bed. Juniper mewled, raising her hips.

Heisenberg loved to see her in just her work boots and nothing more.

He eagerly pushed into her, earning a moan to slip past her pretty lips. She was already wet and dripping around his cock. He bent over her, stomach pressed into her back, hot scar flush against his chest.

He felt her trapped legs tremble as he fucked her open on the expensive furniture. He reached a hand around her, rubbing circles into her clit as he kept a face pace. Seeing her in that revealing dress and dealing with his shitty ‘family’ had him on edge, and he was ready to blow off some steam.

It didn’t take her long to become a whimpering mess under him. He felt her cunt clench, liquid squirting out around his cock. Juniper cried out, clawing at the sheets.

Heisenberg pumped into her roughly, loving the mess they were making. He brought his hands to her hips, forcing her back into him.

He pulled out, pumping his fist down his sensitive cock, turning enough to splatter his load over the expensive bed sheets.

“Oops.” He smirked, a cocky look over his face.

“Karl?!” Juniper’s cheeks reddened, “We’ll get in trouble.”

“We better get going then.” Heisenberg chuckled, pulling his pants back on.

Juniper struggled to redress quickly, worry thick on her face. She felt like a guilty teenager.

After she had her coat back on and her hair smoothed down she looked up to Heisenberg.

He was sitting on the window sill, one leg already hiked over to the outside.

“What are you doing??” Juniper hissed.

“Uh…?” he looked down at himself showily, “I’m going out the window, Doll.”

“Yea, why?”

“I’m not going out the front fucking door.” He smiled toothily, “Gotta keep our little lay a secret right? Keep them guessing.”

“Heisenberg.” She folded her arms, fixing him with a hard gaze, “You and Moreau are the only two in this whole castle with a penis. I think they’ll know who came all over their guest room.”

“Aw, give the fish freak a break.” Heisenberg put his other leg out the window, “The maids are probably cock hungry enough to give him a ride.”

“Karl!” Juniper scolded, padding up to the window.

She looked down, realizing  they were on the second story. She gulped.

Seeing her fear Heisenberg soothed, “Don’t worry, buttercup.” He offered her his hammer, “Just hang on and I’ll set you down all nice and easy.”

She bit her lip, reaching out a trembling hand, fingers wrapping around the cold metal.

“Hold tight.” He warned. She complied, swinging her legs over to the outside. The wind bit her skin, the hammer in her hands floating before her. It felt unmoving in her grasp, steady and unwavering. She tried to brace herself.

She closed her eyes, nodding and pushing away from the sill.

“Good girl.” Heisenberg smiled, her trust in him making his heart swell.

He concentrated on lowering her as easily and carefully as he could. She kept her eyes shut tight, arms beginning to ache from supporting her weight.

Sooner than she expected her boots met the frozen earth, sending a surprising jolt though her.

Juniper let go, the hammer staying in place for a moment before snapping back into Heisenberg’s hand. He came down next, much quicker and without the caution he used for her.

As soon as his boots met the ground, he hooked his arm around Juniper’s.

His face was alight with glee as he started off into the night.

“Come on!” He laughed, “Let’s get out of here.”

She kept pace with him, the adrenaline and his mirth causing her to join in with the laughter.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Christmas Specials: Angel

CW: Implied past parental death, referenced past torture/noncon, memory loss and grief

"It, it should be an, um, a, a-a an angel," Chris says, gazing up at the star on top of the tree. It gleams a warm yellow to match the special lights that wind through the branches, the soft smell of pine and wood. The ornaments weigh it down, a multitude of old childhood things Nat brought with her twenty years ago, plus new ornaments added over time by every rescue who has lived here through Christmas and even a few who didn’t. 

Chris picked his out at Hallmark with Nat last week. He chose a little cardinal on a snowy tree branch with a scarf and earmuffs on. He doesn’t know why. But he runs one finger over the top of its little head in thought. 

Nat, crouching down by the bright red, gigantic rubbermaid with Christmas Ornaments + whatever else written on the lid in big black sharpie letters, looks up. “What?”

Chris keeps petting the little porcelain cardinal with one finger, staring up at the star. “Why isn't it, um, an, an angel, Nat?”

"Not sure exactly. I've always done a star," Nat replies, carefully choosing a small ornament shaped like a horse in mid-gallop, covered in elaborately carved and painted Western tack. She slips the little hook into the small metal ring on the horse’s back and hangs it in an empty spot on the tree, smiling.

She looks over to see an expression of something like upset on Chris's face, his eyebrows furrowed, bouncing uncertainly on his toes. "It, it should be an angel," He repeats, insistent. “It, it should be. Um, an… an angel. A star isn’t-... isn’t, isn’t right. It should be, be, be-be-be… should be-, an, an angel.”

His voice drops a little, and he picks at the hem of his oversized t-shirt with one hand, rocking a little until Nat puts a hand to his shoulder and he stops. 

"Chris, is this bothering you? That it’s a star?” Nat and Jake meet eyes where he's hanging garland along the mantle, knowing later Nat will go all-in on her Midwestern roots and pull out the Christmas-themed baskets to decorate it.

“It’s not right,” Chris says, even more firmly this time. He shakes his head, rocking again, forward and back. “It’s, it’s always supposed to be, to be angels.” He makes a soft sound of frustration, hands moving up to his hair, twisting into the copper, yanking hard. “Supposed, supposed to be-”

Nat takes his hands in hers and gently lowers them again, pressing his palms into his stomach. “Tap, Chris. Don’t pull your hair out, please. Let’s do the ones that don’t hurt, okay?”

He doesn’t answer her, but he starts up the familiar movements of his fingers, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, and he doesn’t go for his hair again. “Angels,” He mumbles. “Should be a, um, angel on the, the, the tree. Didn’t have a tree the, the last time, we were-... gonna go, go get the tree after Thanksgiving, it, um, it was-...” 

The room is perfectly still as he falls silent, rocking harder. 

 "Did you-...” Nat is quiet for a moment, deciding where to take this line of questioning, what is the safest way to ask. “Are you… used to angels, Chris? Did you have an angel tree-topper as a kid?”

He’s still a kid.

He’s still so young. 

Chris isn’t looking at her, still rocking a little, looking up at the star, gnawing on a chapped spot of skin on his lower lip that he’s already managed to make bleed this week. He pinches his finger and thumb around a few pine needles, releasing their scent even more strongly into the air. "She, she always did angels,” He whispers.

Then he winces, cries out in pain, and the moment's gone, along with the memory. They hold him through the headache until it passes, through his tears, but he’s never able to explain.

Within a half an hour he’s forgotten he ever mentioned angels at all, forgotten anything but the awful spike of pain the headache brings on the heels of any thought or memory they aren’t allowed to have.

She refuses to be frustrated - this is a common part of memory recovery in rescues, how things seem to come and go, slipslide through their minds. It’ll come back, sooner or later. She has to believe that - and that even if it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter, they still deserve the new memories to be their own.

Every time he walks past the tree, though - as Nat’s presents for her rescues start to build up, and she takes each of them out to find gifts to give Jake and their fellow rescues, too - his eyes don’t linger on the somewhat haphazardly wrapped boxes. 

They go to the star.

She gives Jake a few twenties from her wallet and tells him to go shopping. He sheepishly pulls out the small red box he’d already bought, five steps ahead of her when it comes to Chris as usual.

They wrap the box together. 

On Christmas Eve, Nat insists on cooking, while Antoni hovers nervously around her and offers, time and time again, to do whatever he can to help. She refuses, but lets him set the table before having Jake take him outside to sit down with a drink and watch the Christmas lights. It seems to calm the part of Antoni that needs always to be serving, the part they are trying so hard to get him to drop. 

Chris wanders through the dining room on his way, getting himself some lemonade in the kitchen and giving her a hug. Krista is moving into her own place in the next month or so and she heads out onto the porch, too, making the most of her last few days in the house. Even Leila, quiet watchful thoughtful Leila, finds her way out there, too.

Which leaves Nat in the kitchen putting together everything she remembers from her own childhood. 

It’s a feast.

Beef tips out of the oven with gravy and thick, chewy noodles, little sausages in a crockpot with grape jelly and barbecue sauce, corn casserole more like savory pudding than anything else, scalloped potatoes that have as much cheese as they do actual potatoes, a salad to pretend anyone’s getting nutritional value out of this, queso dip that comes cheap out of a glass jar with tortilla chips, chopped fruit tossed with sugar… this one day each year, Nat lets herself indulge in what she grew up with, what she misses about home. 

Once it’s all ready, she calls them back in. She watches Chris’s eyes widen as he enters first, seeing how she’s pulled out the extra eaves to extend the table, the sheer weight of the food that has taken her three full days of work to put together, the seasonal plastic tablecloth and placemats under every single plate. 

“Chris, you’ll sit right here,” She says warmly, putting her hand against the back of one of the chairs. 

He moves immediately - then hesitates, going still, glancing over his shoulder back at Jake, who smiles back, reassuring. When his eyes go back to his seat, Nat watches him tapping on himself, soothing his sudden jangling nerves. Not grabbing at his hair or scratching himself. Good sign. “Nat, what’s-... what’s, what’s that?”

She moves away to give him space. “What’s what, honey?”

“The, um, the… the the, the box. On my plate. What, what is it for?” He’s trusting, her youngest rescue, like all of them and yet even more than most. He wasn’t meant to have thoughts or skills outside the horrors that he was held for, didn’t develop himself enough to run, he hadn’t gotten a sense that his world wasn’t right enough to develop his own sense of self. That started here, in this house, under Nat’s protection. 

She doesn’t take this responsibility, to help him mold himself into someone he will want to be, lightly. 

He’s trusting, but in this moment, he’s unsure. She wonders how many times he has been given gifts that hurt, that were designed to hurt.

“One last thing for the tree. Open up and find out.”

“But, but Christmas is, is um, is, is tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey.” He loves when she calls him that, every endearment - except sweetheart and darling, and those she has gathered were weapons, once, used against him - and he flushes, looking down and smiling a little, red hair drifting over his eyes. “I never take my tree down before New Year’s. One year I got it late and we kept that sucker up until Valentine’s Day. Go ahead and open the box.”

His fingers are so long and delicate, as he carefully works up the tape that keeps one end of the box closed. Slipping it open comes easily enough, working the styrofoam packing on the inside out is a little more difficult. The squeak of styrofoam against cardboard makes him grit his teeth and Nat herself winces.

But then it’s out, and he lays the square of crumbling white styrofoam down on the paper, carefully lifting the top half away to reveal what it was protecting inside. 

His eyes widen, and he reaches out, touching a rough-edged tinsel halo wrapped around a wire, running one finger down from the top of a porcelain forehead to the tip of a gently wrought nose, the cupid’s-bow lips, rounded hair. He looks up at Nat as his fingers find the stiff, scratchy fabric of the figurine’s cream-and-gold robes. “An, angel? Nat?”

“For the tree, Chris. You said you wanted an angel.” Nat moves back to lay a hand in the center of his back, and he leans to the side, his head tucking into the crook of her neck like always. “Jake and I figured opening one present on Christmas Eve wouldn’t be so bad. D’you want to put it up?”

“Yes,” He says, in a low soft voice. “She, um, she, she… she she… she always had angels, on the, um, the tree.”

“Chris, can I ask?” She rests her chin atop his head, his fine soft hair tickling her skin. “Who is she? Who are you talking about?”

He shakes his head a little, like shaking water out of his ears. “I, I don’t know.” It’s a confession, admission of guilt, more than an answer. “I don’t, don’t, don’t know who. But… but I know she had, had an angel, she said she bought it when, um, when when I was a, a, a a a a baby…”

Mother, then, most likely. She and Jake make eye contact, and he nods, stepping out of the room to go write it down. Every single memory, no matter how slight, could help them put enough together to find whoever might be looking for him out there. And it gives Dr. Berger a place to start delicately working out what is hidden under all the scar tissue in their minds. 

“She threw it, it, it away,” Chris mutters, eyes closed. “With, with everything else.”

“Your mom did?”

“No. Some... someone else.”

“Well, let’s get the angel up there, then,” Nat says gently, as Chris slides his arms around her waist. His voice is going ragged, and she needs to pull him back from the edge before he tips over into the light. “Then all you hungry people can eat.”

“Aren’t you, you hungry? You’ve been cooking all, all, all, all all day.”

“All days. But no, I’ve tasted a little of everything already. Come on, then-”

The door blows open in a bluster of wind and Kauri steps in, cheeks red from the hint of chill in the air, blue eyes warm and sparkling. He looks better today than he did last week - Nat wonders, briefly, if he’s been staying with someone, instead of trying to sleep in park bathrooms or the cold. “Am I late for dinner?”

“Not at all, Kauri. Will Keira be joining us?”

Keira does not consume, comes a muffled voice from inside Kauri’s backpack. He grins and drops it in the entryway, unzipping to take the Roomba out and set it on the coffee table where visual sensors can take in the tree. 

He glances back at the rest of them, and asks brightly, “What’s for dinner? Smells… huh.” He pauses, looks at the table. A strange look passes over his face, like a man seeing someone he knows but can’t quite place. “It smells really good in here.”

“I should hope so. Can you help Chris switch the star on the tree out for this? It’s brand new.” She picks the angel up out of the styrofoam and Chris grabs it from her, moving into the living room with it held in his hands like something infinitely precious and breakable.

Something so easily lost.

“Cool, an angel.” Kauri cocks his head to the side. “Why’d you get that?”

“Because,” Chris says, with earnest sincerity, and a little sadness. “It’s always, um, supposed to, to, to be an angel. It was always a, an angel before.”

Kauri - and Jake, who reappears shortly after to give his many inches of height to assist them - helps Chris get the angel light up on the tree, warm glow emanating from its robes, and Chris declares it better, now. 

He murmurs to himself, “She’d, she’d like it better with an angel.”

No one asks him what he said, or to elaborate.

By the time he’s on his second helping of dinner, he’s forgotten that the thought ever passed his mind.

But Nat hasn’t.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain

[mjscornerr]

the can-can

for @broskepol (i don’t know if you meant this to be a writing prompt but i vibed with it and im bored at work)

(warning: can-can from orpheus in the underworld was blasted during the writing of this fic and as a result the entire work is on crack)

It had been stuck in Loki’s head all damn day.

It was a classical song with some sort of trumpet melody. “Can-can,” he remembers Peter calling it last night at his after-school Drama Club meeting. Peter claimed it was the Drama Club’s theme song.

A drama club that, believe it or not, Loki was a proud member of.

When Thor had brought Loki back to Earth, the team decided first and foremost that the god of mischief needed to be contained, to be isolated. He was too chaotic for their planet.

Whatever, Loki had thought. This coming from the gentleman that wanted to put a suit of armor around the world? Talk about paranoid.

Though when all was said and done, Thor hadn’t even been able to convince Tony to let Loki exist in harmony with mortals.

It had been Peter.

Peter suggested rehabilitation. He was the one that had seen Loki sitting bored out of his mind behind a thick sheet of glass, had been the one to hear Thor’s story of how Loki saved their people. He was the one that demanded Tony find any other method of familiarizing Loki with both humans and the world because, as far as Peter had been concerned, locking a person away just because they unleashed an entire alien race on the biggest city in the world “wasn’t fair.”

The punishment didn’t fit the crime, so it goes.

So there Loki was. Spreading strawberry jam and peanut butter on two slices of bread, humming “Can-can,” and silently wondering how he was finally living without a target on his back, silently thanking Peter.

“Are you...humming?”

Loki spun on his heel with a jump, butter knife flying out of his hold and splattering peanut butter and jelly on the floor as he made eye contact with Clint, who was leaning against the compound refrigerator with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“No.” Loki spun back around, his chin raised as he brought the two pieces of bread together and settled the sandwich on a plate. “I hate music. It’s too...happy.”

Clint scoffed, his arms crossed over his chest as he sauntered forward. “And I’m...what? Just supposed to believe that?”

“Do what you will,” Loki shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich and raising a brow smugly at the avenger. “I don’t control you.”

Clint clicked his tongue with a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright. I see how it is.”

“And how is it, bird man?”

“Don’t bullshit me. You’ve been in my head before. I don’t know what fucked up game you’re playing here, but we’ve taken you down once. Don’t think for a second we won’t do it again.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Cut the crap. Alright? You’re the god of mischief for christ’s sake. It’s in your blood.”

Loki clenched his jaw, his chin remaining raised as Clint stood inches from his face.

“You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. You can never belong here.”

Loki puffed his chest out, anger seeping into his gaze, his ears and cheeks burning red-

“Woah, woah, woah-“

Loki snapped his head toward the kitchen island as Tony jogged inside, his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Let’s all just take a breath. Alright? Legolas, you want to, uh...?”

Clint scoffed and turned on his heel as Tony brought a hand to the man’s shoulder and clapped it, turning over his shoulder and offering Loki a smile.

“Makin’ yourself some lunch there, Dark Knight?”

“...Trying to.”

“Right. Carry on.”

Tony led Clint out of the kitchen and heaved a sigh, hand remaining on his friend’s shoulder as they sauntered toward the great windows of the compound.

“...You wanna pull yourself together, dear?”

“He was humming, Tony. Humming a song like he’s innocent.”

“Look, alright, he’s getting there. But we can’t provoke him like that anymore.”

“Why are you okay with this? The guy is the literal master of manipulation and deceit, Tony. And why do you let him hang around the kid?”

“Loki can’t hurt Peter. There’s no one alive that can look in that kid’s eyes and try to hurt him. I don’t make the rules. Besides, Loki needs a friend that isn’t Thor.”

“I’m sorry, since when are we beating around the bush and treating him like royalty? In 2012 he’s killing at random and sending galactic armies down on us and now he’s making sandwiches in our kitchen? Humming?”

“Maybe he likes music.”

“Where did he even hear it?”

“Does that matter? He’s...immersing himself. He’s trying to be better. Who cares where he heard it?”

“It’s just weird,” Clint shrugged, squinting as he looked out the window at the blinding blue sky. “He doesn’t have a phone, and he definitely doesn’t watch TV. Just makes you wonder, you know, where he heard the song.”

Tony raised his jaw and narrowed his ryes suspiciously Clint’s direction, imagining all the ways Clint would flip his lid if he ever found out that Loki, for some reason Clint’s great enemy, was attending Drama Club meetings at the Midtown School of Science and Technology with Tony’s kid.

“...Could’ve been anywhere.”

“Hm.”

Tony’s answer had been far from satisfactory.

Clint was about to head home to his family for the weekend when he spotted Loki sneaking out of the compound, fully clad in a sweatshirt and jeans. He looked over his shoulder once before he was letting the door slip shut behind him.

Clint narrowed his eyes and followed him out, bow in hand.

Loki stopped beside one of Tony’s Audi’s. He looked both ways again anxiously before he was opening the passenger side door.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Clint growled and reached behind him for an arrow, fastening it in place, closing one eye for precision-

Clint’s eyes flew wide when he spotted Tony in the driver’s seat. He choked, quickly lowered his weapon, and watched numbly as Loki climbed inside the vehicle and shut the door behind him. The Audi peeled out of the driveway soon after.

“...What are you up to, Stark?”

Clint followed loosely behind the two in his car for about forty five minutes before Tony finally parked the car.

Midtown School of Science and Technology...?

The two climbed out of the car and began making their way through the front doors. It was four o’clock, so obviously school had ended by then.

Clint narrowed his eyes in suspicion and snuck after them.

They sauntered through the halls casually before Tony led them into the auditorium. Clint hurriedly ran to keep the door from shutting and slipped inside after them, bow and arrows still at the ready.

“...Okay, so, looks like everyone’s here, except...”

Clint crawled behind a row of seats in the audience, squinting as he watched a group of kids conversing, all seated in a circle on stage.

Two kids were standing looking at a clipboard. A blonde girl, sixteen or so by the looks of it, and...

Peter...?

“Oh, nevermind, there he is!”

“Hey, Loki!”

“What, no greeting for me?”

“Hi, Mister Stark.”

Tony patted Loki’s back as Loki hopped over the lip of the stage and crossed to the one empty chair in the circle.

“I beg your pardon,” Loki said in a polite, unfamiliar tone, smiling nervously as he sent an awkward wave to the group of kids. “I appear to have lost track of time.”

“You’re right on time,” the blonde one assured him, her smile beaming. “We’re covering improv today!”

“Oh, great,” Tony grunted as he seated himself on the front row in the audience. “I’m something of an expert at improv myself, you know. I have never planned anything that’s ever happened to me, ever.”

“Do you wanna join, Mister Stark?”

“...Nah. You guys got it.”

“If you say so. Alright, someone get the music.”

One of the kids hopped up from their seat and jogged backstage. A second later, classical music began playing softly around the theatre.

Clint gasped, betrayal flashing in his eyes as he narrowed them.

“The can-can...”

“Let’s warm up with the freeze game! Noes goes!”

The kids each quickly raised a finger to their nose. Loki was the last to do so.

“Aw, okay, Loki’s it for the first round.”

Clint scoffed. It? Loki’s it? Like he’s playing a god damn game of hide and go seek?!

“This should be good,” Tony said from the front row.

Clint saw red.

Peter sensed this, snapping his head out toward the audience in alarm. Tony frowned, turning over his shoulder.

But Clint was already running and fast, the music crescendoing as he grabbed an arrow, positioned it in his bow, leapt over the stage, landed on the apron-

“Get down!”

Peter’s cry of alarm sent everyone screaming and diving to the stage floor, hands over their heads protectively. Loki was standing with wide, terrified eyes as Clint aimed and fired his bow.

“No!”

Peter leapt forward and caught the bow a mere few inches before it could collide with Loki’s face. He stared at it in shock for only a moment before he was turning back to Clint, eyes wide.

“Mister Clint, what’re you-?!”

“Get down, kid.” Clint shot another arrow Peter’s way, the arrow exploding into a net and entrapping Peter inside as he collapsed to the ground. “I’m trying to protect you.”

Loki reached for Peter desperately, though Clint returned his aim to the demigod, expression seething.

“Don’t move a muscle.”

“Are you out of your damn mind?!”

Clint glanced to the side as Tony jumped over the lip of the stage, horrified gaze darting between the arrow aimed at Loki’s face and his kid, kicking and thrashing inside of a net.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I mean, Jesus Christ, Barton. I shouldn’t even have to tell you how wrong this is.”

“Dammit, Tony, this isn’t real. Okay? None of this is real! Until he’s been inside of your head, until he’s controlled your mind, you’ll never understand that everything he’s ever done was just for show.”

The auditorium doors clicked open. Clint faltered as Natasha, Thor, Steve, and Bruce walked inside, eyes immediately wide at the sight on stage.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Brother? What is the meaning of this?!”

“Golden Archer here had a bright idea to ambush a high school to settle a grudge. That’s the meaning of this.”

Clint lowered his weapon, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“...what are you guys doing here?”

“We’re here for the play.” Steve lifted a flyer from his pocket, eyebrow raised. “It’s Loki’s first show. It was on the fridge.”

“...What?!”

Loki sent an accusatory scowl Tony’s way. “You told them?!”

“It...might’ve slipped out over dinner. But I didn’t hang that on the fridge, I swear.”

Loki narrowed his eyes again, this time Peter being the victim.

“...sorry, Lo.”

“Wait...” Clint scoffed, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You signed him up for this, Tony?”

“...The guy’s already a drama queen. What else was I supposed to do?”

“We came to find you,” Natasha explained to Clint, “but you weren’t in your room. We assumed you already went home for the weekend.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Um, excuse me,” the blonde girl was saying from the floor, her friends around her shivering in fear, “but what is going on? And why is Peter in a net?!”

“Good question, Miss Brant.” Tony strode forward, sending a seething glance Clint’s way before he swiped one of his arrows from out of Clint’s pouch and used it as a knife to slice through the ropes of the net.

“You good, kid?” Tony brushed Peter’s hair out of his eyes gently, worry etched into the lines of his face.

“‘M good, Mister Stark. Thanks.”

Tony was just about to turn around and tear Clint to shreds, though someone beat him to it.

“If you hurt the child again,” Loki warned through gritted teeth, “I’ll be the one holding the arrow to your face.”

Clint scoffed. “See, Tony? He’s still the same Loki. He hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? That was eleven years ago. I mean, look at him. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans for godsake. He’s at a Drama Club rehearsal. What’s he gonna do, huh? Kill us all with the plastic prop sword backstage?”

“I don’t-I don’t know, okay? He’s got Asgardian powers. Any second he could turn on us.”

“He would never do that.”

Clint raised an eyebrow as one of the kids rose from the ground hesitantly, hands still raised in the air.

“Loki is...we really like him here. He’s good at drama.”

“Yeah,” Betty nodded, rising to her knees. “He’s the club historian. He takes all of our pictures for us. He even started on a scrapbook.”

The group chorused in agreement. Loki fought a genuine grin when he remembered that the avengers were watching from the audience seating, listening.

“Plus, he’s one of my best friends.” Peter smiled up at Loki from his knees. “Right, Lo?”

Loki bit his lip before he grumbled something under his breath, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.

“Fine. Fine, okay? I may have...I may have bonded with the humans. And I-I listen to music now, and I go to Drama Club meetings, and I wear...whatever style of clothing this is.” Loki turned to Clint, his stance still defensive though his gaze was sincere. “I’ve changed. Or, at least, I’m trying to change. All I need is a second...second chance.”

Loki stuck his hand out for Clint to shake. Clint raised an eyebrow, raising his jaw.

“No tricks?”

“No tricks.”

“No lying? No infinity stones? No alien armies?”

“None whatsoever.”

Despite himself, Clint’s lip quirked ever so slightly in a smile and he was taking Loki’s hand in his, shaking it with a nod.

“Well...alright then.”

Clint slung his bow over his shoulder and turned to face the avengers in the house of the auditorium, his gaze apologetic. Natasha, Steve, and Bruce was smiling up at him. Thor was wiping tears out of the corner of his eye.

“Brava!” Thor clapped, his lip quivering. “Excellent! Excellent display!”

“...You realize that wasnt the show, right?”

“I would be fine if it was.”

“Eh,” Tony shrugged. “I think that’s enough Drama Club for one day. What do you say, kids? Rendezvous for some shawarma?”

The group of teens all chorused in excitement, rising from the ground and all thoughts of danger vanishing from their minds. They slung their backpacks over their shoulders and descended the steps of the stage excitedly.

“Mister Stark,” Peter frowned as Tony wrapped Peter in a side hug, squeezing him. “I thought shwarma was reserved for after missions?”

“Well...” Tony gestured his head toward the lip of the stage, where Loki was dangling his legs off of the side and engaging in conversation with the avengers.

Actually talking. No fighting, no weapons, nothing.

Thor was ruffling his brother’s hair fondly, tears still brimming his eyes. Loki was rolling his own, scoffing at Thor’s adoration.

Clint was still suspicious though Natasha was nudging him in the shoulder, a smirk on her lips. Bruce had an arm draped around Steve’s shoulders as Steve threw his head back with a laugh at something Loki had said.

“...Mission accomplished, kiddo.”

//do not tag as st*rker or th*rki//

[pookapics]

Sugar, Butter and Flour - A CEO!Steve Rogers x Baker!Reader (Christmas Series) Chapter 5 - Memories As Sweet As Apple Crumble

Warnings - MOSTLY FLUFFY AND SO SWEET IT’LL ROT YOUR TEETH BUT DOES MENTIONS :- Character death (Peggy Carter) and Steve Rogers being sad. 

Word Count -  4552

A/N - This series will be completed by the end of January! Sorry for the delay! December was extremely busy due to university deadlines I had due!

Masterlist - https://protectthelesbians.tumblr.com/post/189337379588/are-you-wanting-a-heart-warming-fan-fiction-just

____________________________________________

The cold, winter breeze pounded against the window-panes, shaking and creaking against the brute force. Slipping off your soaking wet shoes as you turned to Steve “Before I drag you into the kitchen, I’m going to get out of these clothes.” peeling up the edge of your sodden wet sleeve from your arm “I’m completely and utterly soaked.” With a quick glance to Steve again, you spoke up “You’re probably soaked too, I might have some of my dad’s clothes which you can borrow.” You offered which made Steve perk up “You would be a lifesaver because if I keep these clothes on any longer I will become a prune.” his words made you giggle “Well lets fetch you some clothes then.” Leading Steve towards the staircase which connected the bakery to your apartment, the perfect location for you. When reaching the top of the staircase, Steve hunched down as not to bang his head against the low door frame as you unlocked the door to your apartment. The door opened to reveal the small apartment, which made Steve pause. This small space reminded him so much of his childhood home back in Brooklyn.

The walls of the apartment, though small, was littered with hundreds of cracks tracing up to the ceiling, even the wallpaper had become discoloured with age, peeling at the edges and corners. But Steve still felt a sense of home and comfort which exuded from how you worked with what you were given with this space. Photographs covered the larger cracks, the decor upon the walls made the room more spacious than it was. Placing your wet shoes under the radiator, you turned to Steve “Let me put yours under too to dry.” Steve agreed and kicked his shoes off, his once pristine leather shoes now ruined from the snow, socks soaked right through to his skin as well, gently placing the shoes beside one another under the radiator, both pairs of socks lay atop the radiator to dry. 

“I’ll go find those clothes.” you turned on your heel, walking off to what Steve rightly assumed was the bedroom, leaving him standing there in the living-room, his bare feet nestled in the soft carpet. Taking another look at the walls, Steve smiled at the photograph’s which ranged from (YN)’s childhood to more recent times. His eyes locked on a particular photograph, you were standing in the middle of the frame in front of the bakery. The paint on the door and sign looked fresh and crisp, a red shining ribbon covering the front door. Your face was covered with the biggest smile, so bright and full of joy. 

“That was our grand opening, one of the best moments of my life.”

Steve quickly turned to see (YN) standing there, the clothes for him nestled in the crook of her elbow, you too were looking at the photograph which Steve had been gazing at for some time. Steve just listened as you spoke again “Just fresh out of culinary school and my apprenticeship under my mentor just completed, I was so lucky with finding this space and starting my business. I was truly blessed.” reflecting on that happy memory of that day, it felt like only yesterday when you opened the front doors to ‘Fairy-Cakes Bakery’. Breaking from your nostalgic haze and turning back to look at Steve, a smile on your face “Here. found some of my dad’s winter pajamas he left here.” holding the clothes out for him to take. The two sets of fingers brushed gently together as Steve softly took the clothes from her hands, the simple touch felt like a current of energy running up both of your arms and straight to your chest, a warm feeling growing there. Pulling your hands away from him, cheeks a soft pink as you smiled “I’ll leave you to get changed.” walking back to the bedroom to get changed yourself and of course to give Steve some privacy. 

Closing your bedroom door behind you, you immediately began to shake your hands around as to try and get rid of the tingly feeling they had in them, the tingly feeling which had gone straight to your chest after brushing hands with Steve, palms sweaty. After letting the tingly feeling fade, you set out to get changed into your warm pajamas, which so happened to be one of your Christmas onesies. Throwing your wet clothes into the washing basket, they made a thud when hitting the basket, your skin happy to be feeling the warmth which was coming from the radiator in the room. Grabbing the onesie, sliding it up your legs and letting out a squeak as you stumbled putting it on, falling onto your bed.

“You alright in there?” Steve called out from the living-room, you got back up “Y-Yeah!” stumbling with your words as you continued to pull the onesie up your body, getting back up to your feet, zipping up the front of the onesie, the hood of the onesie cradling your neck. With the onesie on and fluffy socks in hand, ready to be slid on, slowly regaining the warmth you lost from being outside. Fluffy socks slid onto your feet with ease, your toes no longer feeling like icicles, it was time to head back to the living-room. Pushing your bedroom door open, your eyes looked around for Steve and you found him, for sure. You definitely could not miss him with what you were seeing.

Steve was in the midst of removing his wet shirt to put the pajama shirt on, his toned chest exposed, he seemed to not have noticed you come in. You tried not to squeak but you couldn’t keep it contained “A-Ah!? Sorry! Didn’t realise you were still getting changed!” Steve looked up as you squeaked, looking like a deer in headlights for a moment. Immediately, you avert your gaze and tried your hardest not to picture his bare chest in your head, cheeks growing as red as strawberry jelly. Steve just stared at you for a moment before letting out a boisterous laugh “Oh my god (YN), its okay! It was just an accident.” he continued to chuckle as he pulled on the red pajama shirt before walking over to you. But you still remained stood by your bedroom door, gaze averted and your hands covering your eyes and your reddened cheeks.

Steve was now stood beside you, his hand on your shoulder as he tried to turn you to face him, your hands still plastered across your face to cover your eyes and cheeks ”Hey. Come on you can look at me now, I’m fully changed.” he teased and tried to pull your hands from your face but you wouldn’t budge, Steve just smiled “Oh Sweetheart come on, look at me please.” his voice like melted butter, which in turn made you melt and pull your hands from your face to peek an eye open. Looking into his serene, ocean blue eyes, your cheeks were still tinted pink out of embarrassment but it began to soften as Steve smiled tenderly and spoke again “There we go, now I get to see your face.” pushing a strand of hair behind your ear softly. A smile broke onto your face, giggling faintly “Still. Sorry for walking in on you.” twiddling your fingers as you spoke, making him chuckle once again “Sweetheart, when you have a kid, you get used to getting interrupted when getting changed.” Having no embarrassment about the situation, which in turn made your own level of embarrassment drop a little, not feeling as much shame as the initial moment did. You took this moment to gently pull up the hood of your onesie, now revealing the theme of the onesie, antlers flopping around as well as a tiny pair of ears, Steve just seemed to look at you in awe for a moment and smiled. The two of you stood in the living-room, both stood wearing fluffy socks, only centimeters apart “Uhm time to head down to the kitchen?” you asked to which Steve nodded “Time for me to show you how much of a failure at baking I am.” he joked which made you smile “Oh come off it! Let's head down.” slapping him on the chest gently as a joke before walking over to the door, the tail on the reindeer onesie wagging side to side as you walked. 

Gently descending down the staircase down to the bakery, Steve walked behind you and entered the bakery once again. The windows covered in snow, which was piling up outside and especially on his car “Thank goodness Sarah’s with Bucky tonight.” thinking of how his daughter was spending the night with Bucky and Sam, the number one babysitters. Nodding, you looked at Steve “She’s probably cuddled up on the couch with Bucky watching a movie.” you noted and smiled, tying your apron as you slid it over your head. Steve smiled “Buck’s probably snoring, after being forced to watch Frozen for the third time that day.” a grin on his face as he thought of his daughter and Bucky’s uncle and niece bond. Smiling to yourself, you picked one of the larger aprons off the peg “Oi mister!, its apron time for you!” waggling it in front of his face for a moment before he took it from you “Alright Alright.” he slid it over his head, the strap pulled across his head of thick, blonde hair and the ‘dad-beard’, his hair now slightly ruffled as he tied the straps at the back “There. Better?” You gave him a thumbs up and pulled your phone out from one of the onesie’s pockets “Now for some music!”

The iconic voice of Bing Crosby began to serenade you and Steve as your phone connected to your speaker, having music on just made everything feel right. The rhythm made you sway side to side gently to the music “Music sorted! Now for the recipe!” You ushered Steve into the kitchen, an area of the bakery he’d never been into, always staying clear of it when here. Cracking your knuckles and pushing up your sleeves to your onesie up your forearms 

“Now. Tonight I’m teaching you how to make a simple apple crumble.” you were determined to teach him this recipe and would not admit failure ever. Steve already looked baffled just at naming the recipe “I promise Steve, this is easy and delicious.” placing a hand on his forearm, reassuring him you’d help him along, not throwing him to the wolves just yet. Taking his hand “Come on, let's go to the storage room and fetch ingredients!” his fingers interlocked with yours as you led him round back to storage where you kept various ingredients, always making sure that on any given day you could make something just by what was in storage.

The two of you walked through storage and picked up 4 granny smith apples from the storage room, using 4 for good measure and as not to be too frugal with the filling. Steve held the apples in his arms, you checked each one for bruising and any imperfections, choosing the best 4 out of the basket. Gathering the rest of ingredients came easy enough, grabbing sugar, butter and flour as you walked back to the kitchen with Steve. Placing the ingredients down on the counter, you turned to wash your hands, guiding Steve to do the same which he did. Stood side by side, washing your hands, preparing to start this recipe together. After drying off your hands, you walked back to the counter “First things first with apple crumble, we need to peel, core and dice them.” starting the first step off with something Steve could definitely do. 

Giving Steve a paring knife, you started on your own apples as you split the work evenly. You immediately began peeling the skin off the apple with ease and coring it out with ease, listening to the sweet voice of Bing Crosby which played through the speakers. Glancing over to Steve, you could tell he was struggling with the paring knife “Here, let me show you.” speaking gently as your hands covered his, showing him the technique slowly so he could pick it up easier “There! You’ve got it now. Keep going!” happy to see him get better at it, returning to your own apples but turning to watch Steve happily, a smile on his face. 

He no longer looked as baffled as he was before.

Chopping up the apples, you perked up when Steve called your name “Are these the right size?” showing you the diced apples “Yep! Perfect size!” You finished chopping up your own and placed them in a pot “Now we need to soften these in sugar on the hob.” The two of you worked in perfect unison, with you guiding him through the steps. He listened intently to each word and watched you as you were in your element. Pouring sugar atop the apples as well as some water, you gently cooked the apples through still they were soft and almost golden from the sugar which melted beautifully before gently spooning the softened apples into a dish, smoothing them out so they lined the whole tray at the bottom. Leaving the tray to sit, the two of you turned your attention to the ‘crumble’ which you needed to sprinkle on top of the sweet apple mixture. Combining sugar, butter and flour together, letting Steve cream the sugar and butter together before adding the flour, it began to form the breadcrumb like texture which was needed for this recipe. 

With Steve sprinkling the crumble on top of the apples, you checked the oven was nicely pre-heated and ready for the apple crumble to go in. Ushering Steve over, he gently placed the apple crumble into the oven and left it to cook. It would take a further half an hour for the crumble to cook, the two of you looked at one another “Clean up time?” Steve asked to which you nodded and began clearing up, Steve working alongside you. Cleaning the counters and putting back the packaged ingredients into storage, the packet of flour still on the counter to be taken back to storage. Things in the kitchen were beginning to look much cleaner, that was until Steve decided to dust off his apron.

“STEVE!” 

Steve looked up and saw that the flour he’d dusted off himself had flown and covered your hair, leaving a white caste, Steve’s facial expressions matched the one you’d given him when you walked in on him. You were unimpressed, you were covered in flour and now had your arms crossed. Steve gave an awkward smile “Whoops. Sorry.” You blinked before giving Steve a mischievous smile “Sorry aint gonna cut it mister.” You reached for the packet of flour on the counter and scooped up a handful, ready to attack. Steve had his hands raised in defence, knowing that with that handful of flour, an full-out war would commence “Woah! Woah! Sweetheart we can solve this in a civil manner!” ready to bolt “Oh don’t sweetheart me Steve, this is revenge!” You rushed at him, he tried to block you but failed miserably, flour covered his hair and beard as well as his shirt. Steve stared down at you in shock, his eyelashes dusted with flour, his hand rose to wipe the flour from his eyes as he went silent before chuckling

 “Oh this is war, Sweetheart…” 

You squeaked and attempted to run away from him, but this time he was quick to snatch a handful of flour from the counter and doused you in it, holding you in place “AH! RUDE!” You laughed and escaped his grip “Excuse me you’re the rude one here!” He was hit with another flour bomb, his shirt covered. 

The battle was glorious, flour flying left right and center around the kitchen, the two of you laughing like children, trying to outwit each other. The flour in the air looked as if it were snowing inside, the Christmas lights which decorated the ceiling dusted with flecks of white. The two of you ran straight into each other with handfuls of flour, trying to attack but ended up running into Steve’s arms. You were both panting from running around the kitchen, your flour-covered hands on Steve’s shoulders, laughing tiredly. Steve’s head was rested atop yours, laughing gently as you were there in his arms.

“I’ll be home for Christmas~”

The speaker began to play Bing Crosby’s rendition of ‘I’ll be home for Christmas’, the soft tune made the two of you look into each other's eyes, as if both sharing the same thought. Steve reached up to take your hand in his, your other hand rested upon his shoulder gently. The music swept the two of you into its spell as you began to softly slow-dance. Steve’s other hand gently rested upon your waist, pulling you closer to him. Relishing in the moment, you rested your head upon his chest, swept up into the dance and closing your eyes, tender smiles on both your faces. Dancing together around the kitchen, moving in unison, just like you had done when baking, elegant but sweet. Steve rested his chin upon yours, swaying and doing gentle turns together, moving as one “I’m sorry if I’m rusty at this, Sweetheart. I haven’t danced in a long-time.” You hummed “No. You’re perfect Steve. Truly.” Steve’s heartbeat quickened, he knew you would feel it with your head rested upon his chest, he just hoped it wasn’t too obvious. With a gentle sigh, you spoke again “When was the last time you danced like this?” Steve froze for a moment. 

“5 years ago. May 6th 2015.” He remembered it off the top of his head “The day Sarah was born.” You were confused, blinking your eyes open and lifting your head to look at Steve as he continued “The day Sarah was born, I was dancing with my wife, Peggy.” Your eyes were locked on him, you listened and didn’t say a word “To help with her contractions, me and Peggy danced in the hospital room to music, that was the last time.” Steve sighed sadly, his eyes glazed over and watery, but you stayed silent. This was his time to tell his story “It was a day like this when I lost her, Sarah was 7 months old. Her first Christmas.” He still slow-danced with you as he retold the story, retold the memory which had been lingering in his heart for so long.

“Peggy, a hard-worker at heart went back to work when Sarah was 5 months and we’d moved her to formula, I was at home with Sarah on paternity.” His hand on your waist tightened as he continued to tell the story, the hand which you had on his shoulder began to rub gentle circles into his shoulder, to comfort him, “She was on the highway, on her way back from a company meeting, the snow was coming down hard…” he began to choke up 

“A driver crashed into her head-on.” He paused before continuing,  “I lost her that day 5 years ago and left to raise Sarah, my little Sarah… Christmas is so hard for me, just reminds me of what I lost. What Sarah lost.” A tear trickled down Steve’s cheek, his tired eyes watery, letting down a big barrier which he’d been holding up for 5 years, putting on the strongest face for Sarah. But here you were, letting him push that wall down and letting him cry and you now understood why he was a “Grinch” at Christmas. 

He was dealing with grief, a grief which stopped him from enjoying the most wonderful time, a constant reminder of what he lost.

 Gently, you wiped the tear from his cheek, raising your hand from his shoulder to brush it away, your hand upon his cheek, he leaned into your touch and closed his eyes, “You are the strongest man I’ve ever met Steve. You’ve raised such a beautiful and wonderful girl, Peggy would be so proud of you.” you had tears in your own eyes, trying to reassure him and console him. Steve nodded and opened his watery eyes to stare down at you in such awe and adoration “Thank you. Thank you for everything.” His forehead pressed against yours ever so gently, noses brushing together softly, the two of you drawn in as you stared into each other’s eyes. His deep, blue eyes filled with such sorrow but also hope. 

Lips were centimeters apart.

 With only a little step, you would be able to brush lips with his, breathing in and out in time with one another. Your eyes began to flutter open and closed, lashes gently fluttering. Your eyes closed shut as Steve prepared to take a step closer, when suddenly...

!*BING*!

The two of you were pulled out of the spell which the music had put you under, the timer for the apple crumble was ringing, your faces were so close but gently you pulled back “I-I’ll go take that out.” your eyes opening once more and looking up to Steve, who nodded and gently removed his hands from you, watching as you walked over to the oven. Turning your back to him, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, oven mitts covering your hands as your mind reeled. 

You almost kissed Steve. So close.

Trying to slow down you breathing, you took out the crumble, the crumble on top was a beautiful shade of gold, steam coming off it. Turning around to look at Steve, you carried the crumble over to the counter where Steve was stood, his hand gripping the edge of it slightly. Placing it down on the counter and meekly looking up at Steve “Shall we taste our efforts?” Your voice shy and your lips trembling, as if the adrenaline from the flour fight and the dance had all but worn off, Steve nodded and cracked a smile, you smiled back at him “Vanilla ice cream or custard?” you asked to which he quickly responded “Ice cream please.” You scuttled off to the storage room, opening the freezer to take out the ice cream but also to cool yourself down, your body warm especially your nose and cheeks. 

Holding the carton of ice-cream in your arms, you were ready to head back in to see Steve. Carrying it back in with you, you put a smile on your face as you walked into the kitchen “Let's get our portion and we can head upstairs, watch a movie maybe?” You suggested, he grinned and nodded. Grabbing a couple of bowls, you began to ladle out portions of the crumble, breaking the crunchy crumble to reveal the steaming apples which were shining from the sugar coating, it looked divine. Taking two portions, you began to scoop vanilla ice cream into the bowls.

You turned to Steve “Want to taste your creation?” asking him happily, to which he nodded, taking a spoonful. Half of the spoon loaded with the beautiful crumble and the other covered with smooth vanilla ice cream which complimented it perfectly. He finished the spoonful and paused for a moment “That’s amazing!” His eyes lit up again which made your heart soar “And you made it! I told you you could bake!” Steve smiled at your words “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you though, you’re truly an angel.” The compliment made your heart flutter “How about you take these up and I’ll lock up for the night?” offering and smiling to which he agreed “I’ll see you upstairs then.” He carried the two bowls and headed upstairs.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, you pressed a hand to your heart. This man was killing you, he just knew what to say which could make your heart soar and knees buckle. This man was perfect, sent to you by angels. And that near kiss was lingering in your head. You didn’t want to push Steve, he had lost his wife 5 years ago. Was he ready to move on and would he want to move on with you? That was a question for later. 

Right now, you needed to lock up.

Keys in hand, you locked the windows and the doors and made sure all the fairy lights were switched off. Checking each of the fobs on the oven and appliances, making sure they were all off, taking the time to carefully store the crumble in the fridge. You walked through the kitchen once more and switched off the light as you walked towards the stairs. Step by step, you walked up the stairs and opened the door, Steve was sitting on your couch with the bowls of crumble in hand, smiling. Running a hand through your hair for a moment, you smiled “I’ll grab some blankets.” Opening a cupboard and pulling out an old blanket, big enough for the two of you, once used to cover your double-bed. Draping it across Steve’s lap and across the couch, you got under the blanket and curled your legs underneath you, Steve placing your bowl of crumble in your lap, the ice cream hadn’t fully melted and the crumble still nice and warm. The two of you, sat on the couch together with bowls of crumble in your laps, switching on the TV to find the movie channel. You didn’t really care what was on, since there was a seemingly comfortable silence growing. 

No words needed to be spoken between the two of you as the night went on.

Apple crumble was devoured, the bowls on the coffee-table as ‘Miracle on 34th Street’ played on the tv, snow still falling outside but much softer as the storm subsided. During the 3rd act of the film, your eyes had started to close. You didn’t fight the need to sleep, you gave in easily and gently you rested your head upon Steve’s shoulder as the final moments of the film played out on screen. Steve simply wrapped his arm around your waist, staring down at you in awe and seemingly wonder struck, he moved so you could rest your head on his chest. 

Which you did.

Face nuzzled into his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist. He brushed the hair away from your face and smiled as you nuzzled deeper into his chest, his thumb brushing against your flour-covered cheek. His heart pounding in his chest, he reached down to peck your forehead softly before pulling back.

 The only sounds he could hear being the sound of the tv and of your gentle breathing. Firstly, he switched the TV off and gently held you close to him, letting his eyes close.

As he began to drift off, he muttered something under his breath which was not only a promise to you but a promise to himself that he tiredly hoped he would have the courage to follow through with. His voice soft and comforting, a smile on his face as he fell deep into sleep, your head on his chest. 

“I’ll tell you soon, I promise… Sweet dreams, Sweetheart.”

END OF CHAPTER 5 ---------------------------------------------------------------------

TAGLIST! - @chuckennuggets1213​ @imsonick​ @nervousstrangersandwich​ @justthatfangirloverthere​ @sheadre​ @125bluemachine125​ @giggleberts​ @kind-sober-fullydressed​ @fluffyirwinie​ @kaithezaftig​ @ilovesupersoldiers​ @royale-skeleton-key​ @mcuwillbethedeathofme​ @https://coldmuffinbanditshoe.tumblr.com/ @amberkay284​ @willowtree42095​ @clarinette07���

[shreddedparchment]

Man and Wife Pt.01

The Perv

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 4,841

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, small injuries, language, stranger sex

A/N: This fic is written for Kari’s Sebastian Stan Challenge. This might continue past this initial piece. I’m not sure yet. It works well on it’s own but I’m kinda eager to explore this. If you like it, leave me a comment! Or not. Either way is cool. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

What is the most awkward way that you can meet someone?

Somewhere on that very long list must be the way you met James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d been eager to get out of the house. This summer had been one of the hottest summers in the last hundred years. With heat indexes reaching about a hundred and ten degrees.

New York isn’t the hottest state and hadn’t seen a record-breaking heat since the 30s. That had been in the city.

Here upstate, it was even less likely. What the hell is happening?

Seeking a reprieve from the intense heat that made your skin glisten and sticky with salty sweat, you and four friends had jumped into your baby blue 1964 Volkswagen van and headed for the newly opened Ocean Dome—a three story water park sealed within a large climate-controlled bubble.

“Damn, Y/N, when are you going to fix the stupid AC?” A short girl with short wavy blonde hair asks with irritation.

She’s got her right foot resting on your dash and she kicks it hard with that foot in frustration.

“Hey!” You yell. “Leave my baby alone! She’s trying.”

You reach out and gently caress the faded and cracked faux wood dashboard.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’ll stick jelly beans up her nose when she’s sleeping.” You promise.

The blonde scoffs, laughing at your protectiveness with your unrestored vintage. She turns her gaze towards the back, the other three girls, all with varying styles and lengths of dark hair, are laughing loudly as they gossip.

“Did we need to bring all of them?” The blonde asks you.

“Case, we need to start at least trying to get to know our neighbors.”

“Why?” Casey settles into the passenger’s seat, relaxing more. “They’re sorority brats living off daddy’s money.”

“They’re not in a sorority.” You say with a laugh though a house full of fifteen girls is weird outside of that context.

“There’s like a football team of them in that house.” Casey argues with a laugh in her voice.

You glance into the rearview mirror as the girl sitting in the row furthest back stands up and pulls her shorts down pressing her ass to the back window to flash the car behind you.

You almost want to tell her to stop but you don’t want to seem like a square. They’re not paying any attention to you or Casey and don’t hear you talking about them.

“Look at them.” Casey complains. “They’re like wild animals.”

She shifts in her seat to turn to look at them better, tugging at her seatbelt.

“Hey! Are you going to wipe your butt oils off that window? Get your nasty ass off the glass.”

The girls just laugh harder as the third pulls her shorts back up and settles back down into her seat looking rightfully chastised.

“Sorry, Y/N.” The girl says.

“It’s okay…” You try to remember her name but she’s already talking to her friends and paying you no mind.

“I hope they drown.” Casey gripes.

“Case!” You laugh, the seriousness on Casey’s face drawing the amusement out of you like no one else can.

The water park is packed. Really packed.

“Maybe we should have come on a week day?” You wonder and are suddenly shoved forward as the three brunettes you’d brought hurry past you and disappear into the crowd.

“Ugh, good riddance.” Casey grumbles. “This place is new. And it’s summer. I doubt it’s going to get any less packed for a while. Besides, now’s the time to come while everything is still working.

“Yeah.” You agree and let your eyes rove over the first floor.

It’s the largest out of the three levels with a pair of large wave pools at the center. One actually creates large waves where people can surf and seems rather dangerous. You’re definitely avoiding that one. The second with the much smaller waves, is full of families with kids and young teens in neon yellow, pink, purple, and green tubes. They float casually, lazily as they enjoy the cooler temperatures of the water.

To the right are four long lines that flow up towards the third floor where two large yellow and orange slides weave down back towards the bottom floor into a smaller but deeper pool than the wave pools. There are also green and blue slides that flow onto the second floor into what you can see is another pool on the other side of a tall modern steel and plexiglass banister.

You can see people in bright bathing suits weaving around the second-floor pool towards small stalls where one can buy drinks and snacks.

Here on the first floor, the back wall is taken up by a large tropical themed restaurant, tube and board rental stations, the largest set of bathrooms in the park, and the lockers.

To the left of the two wave pools is a large expanse of space at the center of which is a large splash bad with a huge red and white beach ball, hollowed out with small kiddie slides flowing down from several sides.

Two fake palm trees spew water up into the air where it falls on toddlers and small kids as they giggle and splash. All around this kiddie section are hundreds of lounge chairs and umbrellas with small tables attached. As you scan the area, you can see that there’s hardly an empty seat.

Finally, around the outer walls of the first floor and going through the center space between the wave pools, is a winding Lazy River with bumper to bumper tubes and people milling about in the easy flowing turquoise water.

This one ride’s water is different in color from the sterile and chlorinated water of the other attractions. The large sign of its entrance advertises with large brightly colored words sticking out of the top right corner, ‘True Caribbean Waters’. Which really just means it’s a saltwater river.

You’re not unaware of how almost everyone in the Lazy River is paired off. This is where couples go to lounge and be together, guys pushing their girls on tubes. There are a few families sprinkled throughout, fathers pushing kids or mothers with babies, but the majority are cuddling couples.

“Where are all the other rides?” Casey wonders, exploring the space with her green eyes, just like you.

“Second floor?” You offer.

“What do you wanna do?” She asks.

“Let’s go find a locker.” You adjust the bag on your shoulder. Towels and extra clothes packed in.

You find the lockers by the bathrooms close to the large splash pad and countless lounge chairs. You and Casey manage to get two of them close to each other and after slipping your belongings into the small square space, you make sure to slip your waterproof wrist band on which is loaded with all of your spending money specifically set aside for today.

“So, what now? You want to-? Case?” You look around, searching over the heads you can look over and tiptoeing to get a glance around the taller people. “Casey? Casey?”

However, Casey is nowhere in sight. “Well, shit.”

“Wow chit!” A blonde toddler exclaims as he passes you with his mother.

The mother scowls at you.

“Sorry.” You offer, clenching your teeth. Oops.

Maybe Casey went to one of the wave pools?

Feeling self-conscious of the one-piece suit you’re in—a cute powder pink suit that is much sexier than you’ve ever considered wearing that leaves your back exposed, held together with thick straps that tie at a bow between your shoulder blades—you wander over to the center of the two large pools and quickly scan the bodies drifting up and down with the push of the waves.

No Casey.

A quick walk by the lines by the waterslides tell you that Casey is not a thrill seeker.

You check the bathrooms, the restaurant, the snack stands, and then wander along the splash pad, weaving through the countless chairs.

“Casey?” You call out every now and then, but she never responds.

Yes, coming here had been your idea. Yes, you are enjoying the cooler temperature and the smell of the chlorine. Yes, the water looks inviting, but you hadn’t wanted to be here alone.

You find yourself standing in front of the large arched sign of the Lazy River and sigh. Well, you’re here to cool off, right? Might as well cool off.

You toss your hair over your right shoulder and carefully descend the steps into the surprisingly cold water. You’re very aware of your nipples straining hard against your suit. You release the bar of the stairs and cross your arms across your chest but continue to walk into the water with a gasp.

The cool water takes your breath away, but you keep walking, following the flow of the river. Because it’s the weekend, the park is open late. You and Casey had carefully planned when you’d come to the park to try and avoid the crowds that would surely gather. It had already been late afternoon when you arrived. Now, after an hour of searching, you can see the sun beginning its descent through the large dome of the park, inching closer and closer to the horizon.

It paints the sky burning orange and rose petal pink, the tippy top of the sky fading into a dark plum with the first sparkles of the night’s stars peeking out.

Because it’s getting later, the Lazy River is less crowded now with families and older couples leaving, making space so that you can walk through the water slowly and without bumping into people.

A girl with bright red hair sits in a tube, her bottom disappearing through the center with her long legs gently scratching your arm as she and her boyfriend? Husband? As they pass, without paying you any mind, she leans her head back and the guy she’s with kisses her lips upside down.

You look away, aching with jealousy. You haven’t been kissed in so long!

You reach up and massage your lips as you walk along the artificial floor, the easy flow of the river pushing you gently forward so that you have to fight your progress. It makes your feet slip and slide along the floor.

After about twenty minutes, it starts to hurt. You should have grabbed a tube. By now the dome is lit by artificial light but here in the river, there are dim lights to give the area a soft glow with most of the bright lights reserved for the splash pad and the wave pools. The slides are closed which begin to drive away the more frenzied teens.

The sun is set and the last of the orange sunset fades into darkness.

“Woah, woah! Hey! WOAH!”

Two loud splashes sound around you and you begin to scream but you’re pulled underwater by the weight of a body and another splash.

You gurgle, fighting against the rush of choking water rushing into your throat. You can feel strong hands on your hips, and you’re suddenly pulled upwards out of the brine.

As your head breaks the surface, you gasp in a lungful of air and then begin to cough, wiping at your face to clear it of water.

Those strong hands, one oddly cooler than the other through your suit, are still on your hips.

You force your eyes open, straining against the blur of the water and the curtain of your wet hair as you try and see who it is that’s still holding you.

“Hey, I’m so, so sorry. My friends are assholes. Are you alright?” There’s a slight slur to his words, almost as if he’s drunk maybe? Or tipsy at the very least. His voice is deep though. Sexy if you weren’t so annoyed with having almost been murdered.

The cool hand pushes your hair back and you see a flash of silver as he does it. You’re almost able to process what it is you’re looking at but before you can there’s an outraged gasp.

“We’re what?!”

You feel the body in front of you move towards you forcefully as if he was roughly pushed and he slips. You don’t.

As he tumbles towards you, his face slides down and nestles itself directly into your chest, his angular chin pulling down on the V-cut neckline of your suit exposing more inner side-boob than you like.

Your body rages with an embarrassed fever. You can feel the heat start at your tummy and spread up into your chest, your neck, and your ears. Your heart beings to pound and this guy, whoever the hell he is, has his lips and nose pressed into the soft flesh of your breasts that he must be able to feel your heartbeat.

“Oh my God!” You gasp, reaching down to shove his shoulders away from you.

As he straightens up, you can see the blur of inebriation in his eyes. You have no time to see anything else. “Wow. Breasts are awesome.”

Your hand shoots out of its own accord and you slap him hard across the face then move around him and scurry away.

“Ow.” He says from somewhere behind you while his buddies, whoever they are laugh loudly. “Hey wait!���

You leave them behind quickly, your arms wrapped around your chest as you push yourself faster against the floor. It takes you a few minutes to find an exit and you hurry up the stairs. Dripping wet, you search for the set of stairs that lead up to the second floor and hurry up still searching the less dense crowd for Casey.

Once you reach the second level landing you pass the Bumper Boats and the Flow Rider and the pool where the less intense slides empty into. There are a few picnic tables with a people eating from the snack stalls or simply lounging around enjoying the atmosphere.

By the time you find the third-floor stairs, your right foot is hurting badly. You look down and see a small red stain on the step you just placed your foot.

“Damn it.” You keep going but avoid walking on the ball of your foot, which makes you limp as you try not to put too much pressure on it.

On the third level you find a pool bar. This must be where the adults hangout. Even now there are more people lounging here than there are on the second level. Every submerged stool by the light blue tiled bar is taken. The straw, tropical styled roof that in the daytime must provide much needed shade from the burning midday sun, doesn’t seem as popular to the other people who look up at the sky through the thick glass dome.

It’s littered with stars. The inky black is beautiful, but your foot hurts and you don’t see Casey.

You limp towards a distant corner, away from the people in the pool bar, past the faux stone archway that leads into what looks like a dimly lit cave with multicolored lights from which drifts music.

You head towards the area where the dome connects into the floor, several lounge seats angled towards the glass. They’re empty so you sit down, turning your back on the hustle and bustle of the park.

You pull your leg up, staring at the peeled skin on the ball of your foot. It’s not bad, just hurts because you’ve been ignoring it. Maybe you should have stopped by the first aid office and asked for some band-aids? And maybe bought some sandals in the gift shop?

“Hey.” You know that voice!

You turn and jump to your feet, wincing as you step on your scrape.

“Woah. Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” It’s the guy from earlier. And enough time has passed that it doesn’t seem like he’s tipsy anymore.

Now that you’re not speeding away from him, you let yourself see him clearly. He’s big. Bigger than he felt in the Lazy River. He’s at least six feet tall, or close to it. His shoulders are wide, his chest is bare sculpted perfection, and his stomach is cut in deep rivers of glistening muscle. He’s wearing dark gray swim trunks with a large red stripe running down along the sides that sit low on his hips exposing the top of the V of his pelvis.

He sees where your eyes roam and he pulls his shorts up higher and quickly undoes the string holding them up and ties them on more tightly.

Your neck burns again, this time because you’d been caught admiring his physique. It’s kind of hard not to. Of course, this admiration quickly adjusts to curiosity as you eye his left metallic arm. Now that you see it more clearly, it’s dark, not silver like you’d thought. It’s almost black with small flecks of gold throughout.

Once again, he follows your gaze and quickly pulls his arm behind his back.

“Is this what it felt like for you with my head shoved between your boobs?” The man asks, feeling exposed.

“Yes.” You admit. Serves him right.

Finally, you look up at his face and your heart nearly shatters. He’s…he’s just so-His eyes are so blue, and his brow furrowed but they sparkle with amusement and embarrassment?

His chin is covered in scruff. He’s older. How much older? His dark hair is pulled back into a low bun. A recent decision as you distinctly remember the tickle of hair between your breasts when he’d found himself there.

“Sorry.” He says and takes a step towards you.

You take a step back and wince as you step on your right.

“Hey, really, I’m-I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to apologize for what happened before. I meant it when I said that my friends are assholes. People think Steve is some goody two-shoes but he’s really, really not.

“Steve?” You look at his arm again and you feel your like you’ve missed a step as you connect the dots.

“You’re Bucky Barnes?” You ask, curious but surprised.

“You know who I am?” He asks, smiling beautifully.

You can’t find your voice, so you nod.

You know this man from history, from the news. This man is famous in a not so good way but also a very good way. He’s a hero although most people see the Winter Soldier. You see both.

He blushes scarlet and reaches to pull his hair loose. He scratches the back of his head and blows a rush of air out through a nervous pucker of his lips.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said before. I’m not-I don’t-It’s not like I’m some type of-”

“Pervert?” You offer, relaxing and quirking a brow.

He chuckles nervous and glances back towards the pool bar. No one is paying attention to the two of you.

“Yeah.” He admits. “I’m not that.”

Shame. For a moment—maybe you’ve been single too long? You kind of wish he’d throw himself at you but why would he? He’s hot and gorgeous. You’re…you.

Limping back to your seat you sit down and listen as Bucky moves to stand beside you.

“Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing. I just scraped up my foot walking in that stupid Lazy River. I should have brought swim shoes.” You lament.

Bucky’s cool metal hand suddenly lands on your shoulder and you look up at him.

“Can I see?” You chew your lip and after a second of consideration, you nod.

Bucky moves around to squat down before you, pulling a large waterproof strip of gauze of the like you’ve never seen from his pocket. He also pulls a soft square of gauze and an alcohol wipe.

Okay, how long had he been watching you because there is no way that he just goes around carrying medical supplies in his pockets.

His right hand very slowly takes hold of your ankle, his hot fingers tickling your skin as he pulls your heel up to rest on his right knee.

Your breath hitches as his skin makes contact with yours and you feel a sudden churn of heat in your belly. It sends flutters through you.

Yeah, you’ve definitely been single too long.

“This is gonna hurt.” He warns you but you still hiss at the sudden sting of the alcohol.

He looks up at you apologetically, scrunching up his eyebrows with your reaction.

“Sorry.”

You lose yourself in him as you watch him care for your scrape. Why does it feel so good to be taken care of?

“You’re staring at me.” He says with a smile.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Why are you staring at me?” He wonders, his eyes flitting up towards you then back to your foot.

“You’re really hot.” You admit, so lost in him that you can’t help but just give it to him straight.

His cheeks burn red again, and his ears flush adorably too, but he laughs as he finishes wrapping up your foot. His eyes twinkling.

“I think this is the first time someone has told me I’m hot, just like that.”

“You asked.” You argue.

“I did.” He says, carefully putting your foot down as he meets your eyes. The subtle curve of his lips and the way he still hasn’t released your ankle sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re not angry at me anymore?”

“Angry?” You ask, slightly dazed.

“You slapped me.” He explains.

Oh, shit! You had indeed slapped him.

“You said breasts were awesome after having your face shoved between mine.” He raises his eyebrows, indicating he’s still waiting for an answer. “No. I’m not angry anymore.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Come with me.”

He pulls you to your feet and slowly leads you towards the arched entrance of that fake stone cave. The water is at about four feet here too then slowly gets deeper the further he leads you through it.

The cave suddenly opens into a small lagoon.

“Wow, this is pretty.” You sigh as you look at the too blue water and the carefully crafted ambience, soft ferns and vines decorating fake stones and hanging from the ceiling. You can’t really touch the floor anymore and Bucky is moving forward through the water still holding your hand as you cross into the pink, yellow, and purple lit cove.

On the other side of the cove is a textured vinyl flooring, painted beige to look like the shore of a sandy beach. You can hear deep bass bumping and techno music drifting in from another open archway that winds into a hallway.

“What’s that way?” You wonder as your feet find the sloping curve of the floor.

“A club. The water park people wanted to get their money’s worth, so they opened a club for us adults to drink and party. I should actually be in there. That party’s being thrown by a friend of mine.”

“Really? What friend? Steve Rogers?”

“No. Tony Stark.”

Woah! Tony fucking Stark!

“Is that where we’re going?” You wonder just as Bucky pulls you completely out of the water, but he suddenly twirls you around so that you face him. His hands find your hips and he backs you up quickly until you’re pressed into a small depression in the wall where you’re both hidden from view.

With your mouth slightly open and your eyes searching, you let your heart rage in its beat, rivaling the base of the distant music.

You can feel his fingers adjusting their grip on your hips, sending tantalizing tickles down your legs.

“I’m gonna kiss you, now. Is that okay?” Bucky asks, whispering warmly as he leans towards you.

You nod.

“You gotta tell me it’s okay, baby-doll. I’m not gonna kiss you and then have you slap me again.”

“I want you to kiss me, Bucky. Kiss me.” You beg, mint and pineapple on his breath. Maybe he ate one of those snow cones earlier?

His lips twitch into a smile before he rushes down to kiss you. His lips move softly, warm and tender, massaging your lips into submission.

As his tongue passes through the small opening you left for him, you groan and wrap your left arm around him. You place it on the center of his bare back, stroking the hard muscles eagerly.

Bucky’s metal hand wraps around the back of your head, holding you in place as he explores your depths while his right hand grazes the top of your bottom as he wraps it around you and pulls you up against his chest.

He kisses you until you have to pull away to breathe. It almost hurts your lungs as the oxygen rushes in.

“Oh, God.” You gasp, your body humming as Bucky merely shifts to press wet kisses to your neck.

He suckles on the skin against the hammering beat of your pulse.

Suddenly he wraps his hand down beneath your bottom and lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist, moving with instinct as he pushes you harder against the wall.

“Bucky…” You plead, and he rushes back up to meet your lips. “Mmmmm.”

You never do this. Meeting some guy and kissing him? Though, it’s not like you don’t know Bucky. You know of him. You’ve seen him save people. You’ve studied his past in school. You know where he comes from and you know where he’s been.

Bucky breaks the kiss again and pulls back enough to look into your eyes. He thrusts towards you, your quivering gasp ripping through you both.

“Tell me you want me.” Bucky begs, almost as if he needs to hear it.

“Bucky…”

“Tell me, baby-doll. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you, Bucky, please. I want you inside me.” You’re almost shocked to hear yourself say it because this is definitely not something you would do.

You’ve never slept with anyone you’ve just met, ever!

His cheeks burn and his eyes explode into darkness as he lunges forward, thrusting up into you again through his shorts. Just two small strips of clothing, that’s all that’s keeping you two apart.

“Tell me you want me again.” He orders.

“Bucky please…I want you.” You whimper, bucking against his hips and the hard rod barely contained behind his trunks.

Bucky is gasping for breath as he pulls his shorts down a bit at the front, just enough to spring him forward. He hooks his finger into the small fabric of your suit and pulls it aside before he deftly thrusts into you.

It’s quick and intense. It has to be with where you are. Out here where anyone might see you.

You shut your eyes, leaning down to bite hard into the skin of his shoulder. He grunts into your ear and you can feel his hard pelvis smack against you as he shoves himself into you in frantic and needy. It’s rough and volcanic with small but powerful and very quick thrusts.

You bounce against the wall, against his chest, your chest squished against his. When his groans come with every thrust, you know that he’s close. The sound of him making such lewd noises sends you over the edge.

You moan against his shoulder as the coil in your body snaps and you’re sent into ecstasy, biting harder and harder with every wave of euphoria until you taste the warm copper flavor of blood.

With one final thrust he freezes and explodes within you in thick flooding warmth.

Your body falls into numbness and you loosen your jaw, turning your head to rest your left cheek there on his shoulder.

Bucky’s left hand comes back behind your head and he strokes your hair slowly, caressing you with fondness.

“What’s your name?” He asks, and you’re shocked to realize you just slept with a man without first telling him your name.

You have all the power here. You could walk away, and he’d never know who you were.

But after today…after what just happened? How could you not see him again?

“Y/N…” You whisper, stroking the center of his back slowly as he continues to support your weight with your legs wrapped around him, still fully buried within you. “Y/N y/l/n.”

He nods.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you marry me?” He mumbles, kissing your neck softly.

You chuckle and let your breathing slow, but you know he’s not serious.

“I mean it.” He assures you. “Will you marry me?”

“What?” You pull back slowly, searching his eyes for the joke but all you see is warm sincerity.

“I want you. And I know it’s weird because we just barely met but I wanna keep you.”

“Bucky you don’t even know me.” You shake your head, confused.

“Marry me, baby-doll.”

“Bucky…”

“Marry me?”

“Buck-”

“Be my wife.” He whispers, leaning in to rub his lips against your own softly, a feather tease of skin on skin.

God, you can still taste that pineapple!

“Yes.” You relent and he smiles then kisses you hard.

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[ms-maj]

Knock Three Times

A little pre-relationship movie night for the song with a number in the title. Enjoy!

If you look out your window tonight

Pull in the string with the note that's attached to my heart

Read how many times I saw you

How in my silence I adored you

Only in my dreams did that wall between us come apart

Oh my darling

Knock Three Times- Tony Orlando and Dawn

“But it’s a chick flick!” Archie whined. At twelve, it seemed that all Archie did anymore was whine. Especially on movie nights. Especially when it was Betty’s pick.

She sighed, arms crossed over her chest. “It’s not!” Jughead shot her a look from across the treehouse. “Okay, maybe it is a little bit but it also fits the theme!”

Archie still looked unimpressed. “Well, okay, but...Jug and I don’t wanna watch it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you spoke for Jughead now. Maybe he does want to watch it.”

He could feel it the moment her eyes landed on him even though he’d gone back to reading his book. Nearly every week it was the same thing. Betty and Archie arguing about movies. If it hadn’t been happening for years, maybe he wouldn’t get so annoyed and try to tune it out. It’s not like he didn’t get it, he did, but sometimes he thought Archie just liked arguing with Betty to get a rise out of her. Of course, he was the only one without a sibling so in a way it made sense. But Betty never gave in, and Jughead always ended up taking her side, because the whole thing was about them being together with the family they made. 

It was why they were trying to implement themes for their movie nights. So that no one could pick the same type of movie week after week; that they were forced some variety. Mostly he enjoyed it, being introduced to things he hadn’t seen. Even if Archie primarily picked superhero movies, every now and again there’d be something that was influenced by Fred or Mary. 

Jughead would probably agree that he had a type as well. He always seemed to find some Hitchcock or Kubrick flick that fit with that month's prescribed theme; that’s kind of the point. The three of them, still thick as thieves, sharing those little pieces of themselves so that as they grew, they still did it together.

“Juggie?” His eyes met hers. Fuck. While Archie was immune to Betty Cooper’s patented puppy-dog eyes, he was decidedly not.

Exhaling slowly, Jughead tried to straighten up in the exceedingly small space. “Betts, it’s not so much that I don’t want to watch it…”

He watched the light fade from her eyes, a soft flicker behind the green that she tried to hide behind a smile. She moved to close her laptop with a shake of her head and an almost imperceptible sniffle.

His hand shot out to stop her, the contact yielding a sharp intake of breath and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a soft, rosy hue on her cheeks. Before pulling away, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and said, “Yeah, maybe it’s not my first choice, but it’s not my night. Besides, you’re right. Now and Then totally fits the theme.”

“Jug, c’mon! You can’t do this to me!” Archie groaned, protesting from beneath his pillow, knowing full well he’d lost this battle too. 

"Your pick for coming of age movie was both the new AND old Karate Kid. We watched two movies last week, at your behest, the least we can do is watch the only chick flick Betty's ever suggested."

The smile Betty gave him was enough to make him never regret that decision, it was also the first time he distinctly remembers feeling butterflies. From then on out, every time he saw Betty they’d make a reappearance, no matter how much he tried to suppress it. So he scooted a little bit closer, enough that when she realized it, a soft sigh escaped her lips as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

And that’s how they watched the movie. Archie had fallen asleep in the first hour, mumbling something about there not being enough action—of any kind— to keep his interest.

“Thanks for siding with me, Juggie. Even if it means having to watch a chick flick,” she was looking up at him now, illuminated only by the light of her laptop, the green of her eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.

His hand slipped around her shoulders, pulling her even closer to him. “Well, it is pretty girly, I can’t lie, but it’s totally a coming of age movie. The theme is one-hundred percent represented. How could I protest? Even if I’m being forced to endure this kitschy soundtrack.”

Betty smacked him lightly on the chest before laughing. “Stop, it’s fun! How can you not smile when this is playing?”

“So easy.” They laughed, Betty, playing with the strings to her too-big hoodie. 

“I know things aren’t ideal at home right now,” she paused, looking up at him again, appraising. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, her being the only one who knew all the sordid details of his mom and sister's departure. “I just thought this could be something you show Jelly when she’s a little bit older. It’s a great movie to watch with an older sibling.” 

“Is that how you saw this? Polly?” Betty nodded against his chest. “Thank you. For thinking of her.” Jughead wasn’t sure what emotion came on first; the overwhelming sadness at the thought of when he’d see his sister next or the absolute elation he’d experienced when he realized she picked this out with him in mind. “I can’t wait for us to show her.”

She beamed back at him and nodded. “Neither can I, Juggie.”

And years later, when he finally worked up the nerve to tell her exactly what she meant to him, he climbed a ladder to her room, knocked three times on the window and got to kiss the girl.

[talesfromthegameff14]

When you aren’t looking

[CW: Smut, pure indulgence, BDSM themes, power exchange, control, and messy, nasty sex. ]

Aya moved quietly to the corner of the bookcase, staying on his side of the corner unseen.  Pausing, he tipped his head upon hearing a familiar, wet sound that was steadily increasing in pace.  A predatory smile crossed his lips, the Xaela didn’t have to look around the corner to know what C’tolemy was doing just out of view.  It was common enough that this had become a game over the time the two lived together.  ‘Catch me if you can’, if you would. 

Today? Aya did just that.

Patiently like the hunter he was, Aya waited for the rhythm of the sounds to turn almost frantic, C’tolemy’s breath hitching, panting, that bitten back mewl of bliss the clue Aya was waiting for.  Quietly but firm, the command came from ‘nowhere’, from C’tolemy’s point of view at least.   “Stop Kitten, your pleasure is mine tonight.” 

A gasp of surprise and all noise ceased except for a low whine of protest, someone was so close to their peak that to stop was almost painful. 

The silence lingered until C’tolemy’s breath slowed sufficiently for Aya to know that the Seeker wasn’t teetering on the edge of orgasm any longer. 

“Fuck yourself, one finger only.” 

No words were required on the miqo’te’s part, the bob of his head unseen as he complied, sliding one finger within his slick depths.  C’tolemy’s tail curled and coiled about him, the man squirming as the sensation was pleasant but no more than that.

Waiting to ensure that his mate’s breathing hadn’t changed, Aya starts to speak, his voice a husky murmur that barely reached the keen ears of the Seeker around the corner.  “It’s not enough, is it?  Not nearly enough for my little cum slut to be satisfied with.  Imagine it is my tail instead of your single, slim finger.  Imagine how it would fill you, forcing you wider than is comfortable, both smooth and rough at the same time while it wiggles and thrusts within.  It’s agony and ecstasy is it not?  Drenched in your slick it almost moves smoothly, except when scales catch and tug at your flesh.” 

Cruel, that his Xaela was a cruel, cruel master was the last rational thought C’tolemy had.  The smaller man was doing his best to be quiet, unnoticed.  It was part of the game after all, find a corner while everyone was sleeping at night and see what he could manage without being caught.  Every word was a caress on too hot skin, sending spikes of pleasure soaring through his blood.  He can almost imagine that he’s being fucked by his mate’s tail, almost.  Again, that one finger is a damnable tease and no more.

It’s a problem Aya, even hidden around the corner, is very well aware of.  “Tighten down around your finger pet.” 

C’tolemy already was, but at the order he did so further and it only made the difference between reality and fantasy all that much sharper. Compared to his imagination the grip of his cunt around his slim finger left him feeling close to empty.  A greedy gasp followed his compliance, paired with a heavy thump of his tail against the wooden floor. 

“Need more still?  Good.”, that damnable low chuckle followed the words, satisfied and a little mean. “Two fingers now, no three.  I’ll be kind to my little kitten tonight, let him try to find satisfaction without me inside of him.” 

“Ssseevvyyaaaaaa”, is the gasped out word that finally breaks C’tolemy’s self imposed silence, spoken out loud when he thrusts three fingers deep between his lust soaked lips.  The Seeker knows what he yearns for, but he can’t quite reach, not like this.  A sound between a sob and a moan, pitiful and pleading, isn’t so loud that it drowns out the sloppy, squelching noises of the desperate finger fucking he’s giving himself. 

Aya smiles, a flash of fang that is nothing but predatory and vicious, enjoying the symphony of desire that he’s being treated to sight unseen.  He doesn’t have to watch to imagine the flush that spreads across his mate's skin, how his expressions change in the flash of an eye while the miqo’te bucks and squirms against his own hand, half maddened with need.  The scent of passion, carnal and musky fills the small area by the books, adding another sensual layer to the exchange between the two men. 

In short? Aya found it irresistible, cock straining against the pants the Xaela slipped on before going to hunt down his missing mate.   Hearing C’tolemy’s suffering ignited a slow burn through the Xaela’s veins that got stronger with every beat of his heart. 

Luxuriating in the moment, Aya quietly listened, knowing that C’tolemy wouldn’t stop until he was told, wouldn’t find his bliss without permission once the gambit had been cast.  He shifted so that he was leaning against the wall, head tilted back and eyes closed so that nothing distracted from the musical performance just a few fulms away.  It was reaching it’s crescendo, the noises now close to what they were when Aya first took control away from his mate.  Lazily, the Xaela caressed his sex over his pants, a hiss of pleasure just loud enough to be heard by the man around the corner, another bit of torment for the already struggling miqo’te.

Again, the damnable words come.  “Stop, now.” 

A wretched sob escapes C’tolemy’s lips, it felt like lightning was dancing along his skin, the sensation not abating at all despite the miqo’te’s compliance.  The Xaela’s timing was perfect as always, just a stroke or two away from his control snapping in two under the unrelenting urgency to cum.  It was a blessing and a curse, teetering on the brink like he was. 

“On your knees, hands on your thighs.” 

On his.. Aya wanted him to move?  Somehow the Seeker managed, whimpering and twitching with every moment, having to swallow a shout from the sensation of pulling his fingers out from between his soaked folds.  Dazed and disoriented, C’tolemy sways a bit on his knees, tail moving in counterpoint to keep him, mostly, in place. 

Quiet as a shadow, Aya paces around the corner, stopping less than a fulm away from his kneeling mate.  “Look at me, slut.” 

There was no missing the presence of the Xaela standing before him, C’tolemy’s body swaying forward even before Aya spoke.  Shuddering from the Xaela’s words, he lifts sex glazed eyes upwards, looking at his mate and master through long, dusky eyelashes.  “S-s-sevya?”

It’s just in time for C’tolemy to watch Aya free his swollen cock from his pants, the head smeared with a bit of pre.  It’s clear evidence that the taller man was very much interested in this play, if the gleam in his eyes and half smirk on his lips didn’t give that away.  “Do you want a reward?  Do you want me to shove this down your throat while you guzzle my cum?  Fuck your face so hard that you choke, until it feels like your drowning under my hands? Will that make my raunchy little whore happy?” 

There was no hesitation, C’tolemy’s head bobbing in agreement even before Aya was done speaking.  “Yes, Sevya, please!” 

“Then be my good little kitten and cum now.”

Words? Words shouldn’t be enough to send the Seeker tumbling into an orgasm, even delightful ones crooned out in that husky baritone that C’tolemy has come to savor and adore.  But months of careful conditioning by the Xaela paired with standing on the knife’s edge of rapture was a more potent combination than the miqo’te bargained for.  His walls spasmed against themselves, sending a curl of electric heat that started in his abdomen and spread outwards in a unrelenting wave of agony tinged fervor that had every muscle tensing from head to toe.  It was confusing, some small part of him fighting the lust that overwhelmed him even as it left muscle and bone turned to jelly in the aftermath.  Words, words shouldn’t...

Then it didn’t matter, all that mattered to the Seeker was the hand in his hair, wrenching his head up and back, the other on his jaw forcing it open to receive the gift that his master had promised.  The first thrust of Aya’s ridged cock went right to the back of C’tolemy’s throat.   The Seeker jerked from the force behind the movement, caught up short from the threat of his hair separating from his scalp.  Feeling Aya pull his hips back slowly was a disorienting contrast to that first, brutal push.  Pop by audible pop each ridge passes back over the Seeker’s lips until C’tolemy’s mouth was left bereft, empty.

Pleading, tear-filled eyes tried to look upwards, only able to manage a glimpse of Aya’s chest and nothing more from how the Xaela held his head still.  C’tolemy was stuck there, waiting and needy, restrained from seeking out the promised reward by the firm grip in his hair. 

It was a bit of kindness, for all the torment, Aya letting C’tolemy gulp down enough air for the Seeker to think about talking.  Once those full lips parted to speak they were filled again, Aya’s hips bucking forward to hilt himself within his pet’s mouth.  “Such a hungry little slut, aren’t you kitten?”, the fondly spoken words already show a hint of strain, the foreplay had left Aya ravenous. 

A strangled moan is Aya’s only answer, and the only encouragement he requires to grind against the Seeker’s lips, bruising them with the force behind it.  Lazily, C’tolemy’s head is tugged back then forward, back then forward along the thick shaft in his mouth. The dirty, wet sounds of flesh sliding against flesh underscoring the rapid pace of Aya’s breath.  Abruptly, both hands tangled C’tolemy’s hair, holding the Seeker’s head in place instead of moving it.  Urgency drove Aya to rapidly thrust his aching cock between C’tolemy’s lips over and over and over.  It was with a single minded determination that Aya sought out his own pleasure, uncaring of how his mate writhed within his grip. 

Only the briefest of opportunities is given to the Seeker to catch a bit of breath, the relentless debasement of his mouth at his mate’s hand seemed to stretch out of proportion with time.  Minutes, seconds? They had little meaning when Aya was using C’tolemy like this, there was only the spine tingling satisfaction of being wanted, no, needed so badly that he could drive his mate to such lengths.  The intensity was such that the Seeker couldn’t stay still, the thumping of his heart in his chest matching the battering thrusts against his throat.  Tears streamed down his face as he choked and sobbed on Aya’s dick, the smaller man’s tail lashing around the two of them with a mind of its own. 

“I didn’t say that you could cum kitten.”, is growled out just as the fire in C’tolemy’s veins threatened to overwhelm him once more.  The pounding eased for a few seconds, though it was no gift this time.  Instead, the Xaela rocked his hips hard against C’tolemy’s mouth, the swollen crown forced hard against that deliciously sensitive spot within his mate’s throat.  Panic wells up within the smaller man, he couldn’t stop it, not with how Aya was tormenting him.  But, he had to be good!  He had to be...

Just as C’tolemy’s walls clenched, the slick dripping from his folds drenching the floor where he knelt, Aya drew his hips backwards much to the relief of his tortured mate.  It was sufficient to keep the miqo’te from disobeying the harsh command, holding onto sanity by the tips of his claws.  “You can cum when I do.”

The words barely register to the struggling, cock drunk man.  All that mattered was that his mouth was filled again, hunger satisfied even though every time he was impaled by his mate’s shaft it sent more cracks through his failing control.

“You’re a good little slut aren’t you?”, Aya gasped out encouragingly as his movements turned erratic, sex flexing within the grip of C’tolemy’s lips.  “A... little.. lon-longer, just a..ah...”  The Xaela’s jaw snapped shut, muffling the shout that replaced his words.   C’tolemy’s face was pulled tight to Aya’s groin as hot ropes of seed were shot into the smaller man’s throat.  Euphoria washed over the Xaela sending his muscles to trembling, knees turning to jelly, breath catching in his throat.  One hand went to his mate’s shoulder as he took a stumbling, half step forward to keep upright.  It forced his pulsing sex just a little bit deeper between the Seeker’s lips much to both men’s delight. 

Just as he was promised, C’tolemy was drowning. There was no breath, no sense of time, nothing but nerve searing delight as his body spasmed from the ecstasy that was consuming him whole.  Yet, that was nothing compared to the honeyed words that were rasped close to his ear, “So good, kitten. You were the best.”  Utterly satisfied, body and soul, the miqo’te drifted off into blessed nothingness.  He was good, nothing else mattered.

[C’tolemy belongs to @ala-mhinyan]

[rt8815]

Bradbury...and Boogie-Woogie

Two years I’ve agonized over this piece. Two. Years. It’s kinda the reason I started writing this story out of order. Anyway, it’s one of those ‘filler’ chapters, I think they’re called. Not a CM Bingo piece, though I’m working on more of those atm.

Triggers: None, I think.

WC: 2,840

Before diving in, first read Let It Bleed, as it immediately precedes this one.

Bradbury…October 27, 2017

“Hey, New Girl! Welcome-welcome!” Garcia squealed happily, rolling a cart onto the sidewalk.

“Hi, Penelope. It’s great to meet you in person,” replied McKinley, lifting plastic containers off the concrete and placing them on the cart.

“You too, Kinley. Oh my gosh, you’re even cuter in the flesh. Love. Your. Hair.”

“Uh, th-thanks,” she stuttered, unsure how to take the compliment or politely ask the bubbly techie not to play with her amethyst locks. Then Garcia moved in for a hug. McKinley stepped back. “No, sorry. I’m kind of weird about hugs.”

“No need to apologize,” she insisted, pushing the dessert-laden cart through the door. Remembering their lively video chat from the other night, McKinley deduced that verbally and physically affectionate was Penelope’s natural state.

McKinley handed her ID to a grumpy man behind the front desk. “If we get to be friends, I’ll warm up to you,” she told Penelope, throwing her visitor’s badge around her neck.

Penelope’s eyes glinted mischievously. “We’ll definitely become friends. I’ve already decided. You’re a smol bean and you’re my baby now, no arguments,” she concluded as entered the elevator.

McKinley giggled. They chatted while the elevator climbed.

“So, you’ve got the hots for our Boy Genius,” Penelope mused aloud.

“What? No! No, it’s not like that.”

“Oh really, now? Doughnuts, cupcakes, a cake, and Season 10 of Doctor Who on Blu-ray, all to apologize because you accidentally grabbed a handful?”

McKinley’s face burned. “Did Agent Alvez tell you that? Son of a bitch!” she fumed, helping Penelope maneuver the cart into the hall.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she reassured her. “These things happen.” Her lips pulled into an inquisitive smirk. “Okay, tell me - what’s he packing? We talkin’ Small Flat Rate Box, or Freight?”

McKinley’s eyes bugged behind her sunglasses. “Sweet Lord, why would you wanna know that?”

Penelope shrugged. “Reid’s always so buttoned up; however, I suspect he’s smuggling something impressive under those corduroys.”

“Yeah well, I’m not comfortable discussing that, so keep suspecting.” They rolled through the glass doors of the bullpen. “And to answer your original question: I don’t have the hots for him,” she stated simply as they came to a stop at Spencer’s desk, “and I’m not looking to date.”

“You guys are perfect for each other, though!” Penelope insisted. “You’re a lot alike. You’re both kind, nerd-funny, super smart, reserved…”

“Ha! Remember that last one when you’ve seen me drunk,” McKinley cautioned, opening the containers to check the decorations.

“Hey, it’s Twist ‘n’ Shout!”

She spun, hands on her hips, electricity crackling in her hair. Luke’s grin slipped at the death glare on her face, his coffee mug hovering midway to its destination. After a pregnant pause, McKinley responded.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one…Mocha Latte. Just know that I bite when I have to.” He raised his coffee-free hand in surrender, inching forward to inspect the desserts.

“Get away, you!” Penelope warned. “These are Spencer’s.”

Luke broke into a lopsided smile. “Oh, because of the ‘short and curlies incident’?”

McKinley thumped his arm with a stack of paper plates.

“Ouch,” he chuckled, no hint of pain in his voice.

“That was for telling people about the…awkwardness. Also, yes, it’s part apology, part ‘let’s be friends.’”

Luke raised a brow. “Friends? You got a free preview of the goods and you’re looking to be just friends?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yes! He’s a lovely person and…I dunno. When we talked, my heart went all squishy and I knew my life would be greatly lacking without him as my friend.”

­“Okay, just remember that opportunity gropes but once, Doc.”

“Alvez, why are you casually discussing sexual misconduct in the middle of the office?” McKinley turned to see a tall brunette woman approaching. She appeared formidable but caring.

“Ah, it’s Dr. Durand! That clears things up,” she laughed, extending a hand to McKinley. “I’m Emily Prentiss, welcome to the BAU.”

McKinley offered a small, awkward wave in return. Emily smiled knowingly.

“How beautiful!” she exclaimed, eyeing the sweet treats. “The attention to detail is remarkable!”

McKinley smiled bashfully. “Thank you so mu- wait, how did you know who I am?”

Emily tore her eyes from the cake. “Well, Penny mentioned your video chat, and Luke jumped in and told us about your encounter with Spencer,” she winked, making a fondling motion with her hand. McKinley’s face flushed yet again.

“Penny spilled about your plan to surprise Spencer, and we got curious. I had her run a background check on you.”

McKinley inhaled sharply, feeling exposed.

“Em!” Penelope squeaked in disapproval. “It’s not like that, love, it’s just- ”

“Spence is like a younger brother to us,” interjected another blonde. “We’re very protective of him. He’s been through a lot, so whenever somebody new enters his life, we’re concerned about their intentions. Jennifer Jareau, by the way. Call me JJ,” she said, not forcing a handshake.

“I understand,” McKinley sighed. “Spencer has that effect on people, doesn’t he?”

She hugged the plates to her chest. “One conversation with him and you realize, ‘He’s a precious cinnamon roll and must be protected at all costs!’ I assure you, that’s my only intention, JJ: to be his friend.”

“Well, that’s certainly a good start,” an older gentleman joined the conversation, pointing at one of the containers. “Chocolate frosted doughnuts with sprinkles are his favorite. It’s a bit clichéd, but there’s truth in the adage ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ It follows; you’ve already had him by the b-”

“Rossi, stop! We’ve made enough jokes at her expense,” scolded a woman who introduced herself as Dr. Tara Lewis. “This looks exquisite. Do I smell coffee in the cake? Reid loves coffee.”

“Yes, and there’s plenty to share as soon as he’s had some. Where is he, anyway?”

Luke pointed outside the Bullpen. “He’s down the hall printing handouts for his seminar next month,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“He doesn’t email them?”

“Reid’s a bit of a technophobe,” explained yet another agent, Matt Simmons.

“He still insists on hard copies of case files,” added Penelope. “It broke his heart when we went totally digital.” She glanced over McKinley’s shoulder and grinned. “Speak of the Luddite devil.”

Everyone watched as Spencer staggered towards them, clutching a thick stack of papers. He stopped short when he saw the crowd milling around his desk.

Spencer smiled, confused. “McKinley? What are you doing here?”

“She comes bearing gifts, Big Brain,” Penelope winked. “Apology gifts.” The others avoided his gaze but couldn’t hide their sniggers. Then Spencer caught Luke’s eye.

“You told!” he grumbled, flinging the papers onto his desk.

“If I give y’all food, will you shut your traps about us touching each other’s fun places?”

“No.”

“Probably not.”

“Nope. Sorry, not sorry.”

“Heh, you’re new here, bean. You’ll learn.”

While they lined up to choose their treats, McKinley leaned closer to Spencer. “When does the hazing end?”

“They’ll get bored soon, but that’s when the pranking starts.” He bent forward to focus on the cake properly. “Ray Bradbury?”

“Yeah, Garcia said Halloween’s your favorite holiday, and I know you’re a voracious reader. I put two and two together and ta-da.”

“Let’s see…the lions are from “The Veldt,” and the flowers are from Dandelion Wine, but what’s this one?” he asked, pointing to a swing set and a sandbox.

“The Playground,” she replied, and they smiled at each other self-consciously.

“McKinley, did you make all of this by hand?” asked JJ, marveling at the miniature sculptures.

“Most of it, except my friend Taylor painted the lions, and the chocolate TARDISes on the cupcakes came from a mold.” She popped open another container, revealing police boxes, each wrapped with a Fourth Doctor’s scarf and set in galaxy frosting. “Oh, and I bought the Jelly Babies online.”

“Would you consider making birthday cakes? My boys would love these.”

“Sure thing,” McKinley agreed, sitting in the chair Spencer brought her.

“Sooo, Reid, what are you gonna do for Kinley?” Garcia interjected.

“She’s right, Spence,” JJ concurred, sneaking an extra cupcake. “You’re not innocent in all this.”

Behind her, Luke held two doughnuts, squeezing them suggestively and mouthing ‘honka-honka.’

McKinley scowled at him. “What’re you, twelve?” Turning to Spencer, she continued. “I’d choose a book or record shop, but you don’t owe me a thing.”

“Oh-oh-oh,” Garcia enthused. “Then after, you could watch Who together at your place. He doesn’t have a TV,” she whisper-yelled.

Shaking her head, McKinley checked her phone. “Sorry, time for me to go.”

“Nooo,” Garcia pouted. “Hang with us!”

“Tempting, but I have to meet friends at some bar named…O’Keeffe’s?”

McKinley swore Garcia’s squeal of delight broke the sound barrier.

“That’s where we’re going! We’re all gonna get smashed on pumpkin-y, fall-themed grownup drinks together! Yes!”

…And Boogie-Woogie

The team kept an eye out for McKinley at O’Keeffe’s and were surprised to hear her shout out to them from the stage. She introduced the team to her bandmates following their final set, which consisted mostly of Tom Petty songs as a memorial of sorts, though McKinley couldn’t resist adding The Rolling Stones’ “Fingerprint File” at the end.

They talked late into the night getting to know each other. McKinley sat transfixed as the team regaled her with stories about their cases, one of which revolved around what they called a Vengeful Cinderella.

“Really? With her stilettos? Yikes!” she grimaced, sipping her drink.

“Yeah, but Spence was able to bring her in quietly by playing into her fantasy, acting as Prince Charming to her Cinderella. Got down on one knee, slipped her shoe back on and everything.”

McKinley threw Spencer an appraising look.

“I can see that working. He fits the bill.”

“He also gave me a new appreciation for the original, unsanitized versions of fairy tales. See, I felt that children ought to be protected from harsh realities, but Spence explained that the tales’ intended purpose was to allow kids to safely confront their fears.”

McKinley cocked her head in thought.

“Actually, the intent of those particular versions was to punish women - through some combination of marriage, rape, bodily mutilation and or death - simply for being women, because the Brothers Grimm were a pair of angry, bitter, he-man woman-hatin’, misogynist prick bastards.”

She took a drink and drew a breath before continuing, waving her hand for emphasis.

“Meanwhile, historian Franz Xaver von Schönwerth traveled around Bavaria, transcribing the stories directly from the very people who’d kept them alive in the oral tradition: servants, peasants, laborers - many of them women - rather than reframing them within his own worldview.”

She breathed in again, oblivious to the team’s stares.

“These fairy tales had strong, independent female protagonists in leadership positions. They were the ones having adventures, slaying dragons and rescuing men! Yes, the stories’ purpose was to help children navigate life’s challenges and prepare them for the adult world,” McKinley clarified, “but not at the expense of women’s agency and autonomy.”

Her gaze shifted to Spencer, whose mouth had dropped slightly.

“Unfortunately, Grimms’ Fairy Tales garnered all the attention. Fast-forward and now we have watered down, artificially flavored, saccharine animated films teaching kids that girls are helpless and need saving, and that the boys who rescue the girls are entitled to them. It’s just one more way the film industry has contributed to toxic masculinity and rape culture. Thanks, Disney, I hate it,” she concluded.

McKinley returned to her drink for a few moments before realizing the booth had fallen silent.

“Oh boy, there are two of them now,” Emily snorted.

McKinley scrunched her face in confusion. “Two what?”

“Spence rambles too,” said JJ, in a tone that conveyed mild annoyance and embarrassment at the behavior, almost as though she were apologizing for him.

McKinley frowned at her. She had seemed nice enough in the Bullpen earlier.

“He’s gotten better about it over the years, though,” she added, patting his shoulder.

The misplaced pride grated on McKinley’s nerves.

“Asphinctersayswhat?” She deliberately slurred her words, downing the last of her drink.

“What?” asked JJ.

“Exactly,” McKinley murmured, eyes fixed on her glass.

Before JJ could ask again, Spencer spoke.

“How had I not heard of Schönwerth before?” he wondered aloud, sounding disappointed in himself.

McKinley perked up. “I can lend you my copy of The Turnip Princess if you’d like. It’s a collection of his work.”

“Yeah, definitely!” he said eagerly. “I’m always excited to learn something new.”

Luke leaned around Matt to join the exchange. “I’ll have to buy a copy myself. I read Grimm’s as a kid but I hate to think I only knew biased versions. Schönwerth’s sound much better.”

…

“I appreciate the ride home, Luke,” McKinley called from the backseat.

“Me too. Just don’t get used to hearing those words pass my gorgeous lips, Newbie.”

“No problem, happy to do it,” he answered, laughing at Garcia’s drunken antics.

Under the cranked-up radio, McKinley addressed Spencer.

“Thanks for your text that morning after the park. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thank you for insisting on the wellness check.” He paused, fiddling with his messenger bag and smiling thoughtfully. “You know what? I’m glad we met.” 

“Hey, is this the right place?” asked Luke.

McKinley peered through the window.

“6565, yeah that’s the one,” she confirmed as Luke parked.

Penelope waddled across the driveway.

“I have to see your tiny house - the outside I mean, since I already got a video tour of the inside. Guys, it. is. Adorable,” Penelope gushed.

“I thought you lived with Taylor and Jaimie,” said Spencer, pointing to the porch.

“I’m parked out back,” McKinley explained, unlocking the gate.

Penelope gasped. “I almost forgot! Can we see your baby too?”

“Absolutely! He loves meeting new people.”

Luke closed the gate behind them, carrying McKinley’s guitar. “Wait, what? You have a son?”

“Weeell, sort of…” McKinley twirled around, landing on her knees, arms spread out.

“Boogie, baby! Come to Mamma!” she bellowed.

A multicolored mass of fur burst through the door and made a blurry beeline for her, knocking her fully onto the ground.

“I missed you too, buddy!” she cried as the dog assaulted her face with kisses. Sitting up, McKinley faced him towards the group.

“Look! I brought new friends. Boogie, this is Luke, Penny, and Spencer. Guys, this is Boogie.”

“Boogie?”

“Yes, Mocha Latte, Boogie. Short for Boogie-Woogie, which comes from the Bantu phrase ‘mbuki-mvuki.’ It means ‘to dance wildly, to the point of ecstasy.’ I didn’t have a name picked out when I brought him home, but when I put my music on shuffle, the first song was John Lee Hooker’s “Boogie Chillen’.” He started shaking his butt and tapping his feet. No other name would’ve sufficed.”

He approached Luke, slowly at first, then promptly shoved his snout into the man’s crotch.

“Boogie! Manners! I raised you better than that.”

“That’s okay, I know it’s the dog version of shaking hands.” Luke knelt to give him more attention. “You’re just introducing yourself, aren’t you? Yeah. You probably smell Roxie, huh buddy.”

“You have a furbaby too?”

“Yeah, a Belgian Malinois. What’s Boogie?”

“A Border Aussie. Mom was a working Border Collie and Dad was a show Australian Shepherd. He got Mommy’s smarts and Daddy’s derpiness.”

Penelope bent over to scratch Boogie’s ears, surrendering herself to sniffs and kisses. “If you two don’t have playdates at the park, I’ll dognap them and take them there myself.”

Boogie seemed to wag his assent, shuffling over to Spencer and nosing his hand.

“N-nice doggie,” he stammered, gingerly patting Boogie’s head.

McKinley stood, swaying slightly on her way to the door. “I better grab that book while I’m thinking about it. Keep our guests entertained, buddy.”

They heard her rummaging inside, talking to herself. “You were here just the other - aha!”

She reappeared, waving a tattered paperback. “It’s dog-eared and coffee-stained,” she sighed apologetically, “but it’ll read.”

“Well-worn is high praise for a book. It shows how much it’s been loved,” Spencer reasoned, climbing the stairs to the small porch. 

“Take your time with it. Some things aren’t meant for speed-Reiding,” she joked, handing him the book.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a minute.

“The swing set on the cake is an inedible figurine, by the way. That night, sitting on the real swing…I dunno, it seemed to comfort you. Now you have one to keep on your desk.”

McKinley couldn’t decide if ‘impressed’ or ‘perturbed’ better described Spencer’s expression in that moment.

“It’s late, guys. We should head out,” Luke yawned, handing McKinley her guitar.

“Night-night, Lovely! We’re having that knitting bee at my place next weekend, just us.”

“Sounds great, Penny, but I’m nervous about knitting in the round. It’s intimidating.”

They waved their goodbyes as they returned to the gate. “Don’t worry, Auntie Penelope will teach you all she knows.”

McKinley retreated into the warmth of her home. She climbed into bed, beaming to herself.

“A whole new group of friends. Imagine that, Boogie! I’d only dared hope for one…”

—

“There are no faster or firmer friendships than those between people who love the same books.”Irving Stone

@illegalcerebral @dreatine @cynbx

Others let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

[hansolmates]

jeonghan; touch of terror

feat. jeonghan x reader 

genre: halloween fluff! rated f for flailing zombies and gracious f-bombs

word count: 3k

prompt: person A from your OTP getting separated from their friends while they’re inside a haunted house. Now imagine them clinging to the next person they see in fright and that person is B (who was also separated from their friends).

Free pizza, you’re doing it for the free pizza. It was the only thing stopping you from shitting your pants and bolting the fuck out of there. The weather is moderately nippy with all your layers and flannel scarf, but under that shell you’re a furnace, sweating like you were in a middle school locker room as you approached the haunted house.

You had to hand it to the theme park, they went all out this year. There’s hardly any little kids wandering around the line to the haunted house, as if there were some spiritual barrier blocking off minors from entering the building.

“Awh shit, this is going to be wild!” Minghao, the Daredevil incarnate, leads your pack further into the line. Anyone can tell that it was him who forced all of you to shell out your twenty bucks to get into the venue due to the way he was all glowy-eyed and the skeleton-designed hoodie he layered on.

On the other hand, three of your group of five look particularly glazed over, their dotted chocolate eyes looking beyond the house in slight discomfort. The only person who you really knew as a close friend is Minghao, who shares your suite and persuaded you last night to let him borrow your car to go on this weekend adventure.

But you have to admit, the specs on this haunted house were particularly haunting. One whole ticket was enough for twenty Dollaritas, but it seemed well-worth due to the amount of effort crafted in this gargantuan house. Dusty fog looms across your calves, growing thicker and thicker as you got closer to the entrance. Dark, thick blood was spread along the iron bars, crusted over single limbs and burned flesh strewn along the entrance. Flashing red and white strobes reach to splay over your body, as if you committed a gruesome crime.

“So,” you side eye Soonyoung, who was definitely trying too hard to put up a brave front. “What’s the theme this year? Something simple, like a spooky mansion?”

“It’s a haunted penitentiary with the spirits of former insane patients.” Chan chirps, “With zombies.”

Soonyoung throws his arms out, “Always gotta have zombies.” He says exasperatedly, standing on his tiptoes to check out how many people were in front of them. “We’ve been waiting here for so long, let’s get this over with!”

“For every minute I waste standing here, I could be memorizing a whole flashcard for Sunday’s Chemistry Practical.”

The languid voice, which cut through the eerie sounds of both workers and patrons alike screeching from the haunted house, slips through the conversation like the smoothest glass of milk and honey. Jeonghan is the only one in the group you know remotely, a friend of Minghao’s that did not live on the same floor that you guys did, however you knew enough to stay clear of him whenever he dropped by. You’d usually walk out whenever Minghao invited him in, or triple lock your room and pretend you were already gone when it was too late to leave. Every so often the brush of Jeonghan’s tawny gaze whenever he watched you leave was more than enough to make your spine tingle. It wasn’t anything personal. He’s just very smart, and very handsome. Smart, handsome people were double-intimidating.

Although he looked just as all the other friends you were with, a pair of fancy sweatpants he probably didn’t work out in and a thick bomber jacket, still he had an air of elegance. Maybe it was the particular shade of brown hair he recently dyed, or maybe it was the challenging gaze in his eyes at the prospect of beating this haunted house.

“Wow, a whole flashcard. How tragic.” Soonyoung drawls, pulling out his ticket from his puffy down jacket because your group was going to be let in after the next party.

“That’s sixty flashcards per hour.” Jeonghan quips, pursing his lower lip. You bite down on your own lip in response, because his pink lips suddenly spread into a deep smirk, elbowing Soonyoung. It was kind of hot, the way he spoke so smoothly, you couldn’t help but stare just a little.

You debate on piping up, and Jeonghan turns to you slightly, blinking his eyes at your mild acknowledgement. Just as you were about to say that yes, I got school stuff too, a heavy arm throws itself onto your shoulders, and you look up to Minghao. In your stupor you stopped walking, and he took no hesitation in practically dragging you to the front alongside him. “Nervous?” He teases, looking down at you and feeling infinitely smaller under his theoretical gaze.

“I swear on my last breath, you better not leave me in there.” You fall short on his steps, letting Soonyoung, Chan and Jeonghan give the bloodied employee their tickets.

“Don’t worry. You won’t leave my side, roommate’s honor.” He squeezes your shoulder before handing over both your tickets, and the employee holds out a greyed hand with two white bracelets.

You put on the jelly bracelet, watching it glow under the blacklight. “What’s this for?”

“Oh,” Minghao had the audacity to grin sheepishly. “So the employees know that they have permission to touch you. They can pull you away from the group, take you on a hidden path or whatever. Gotta get the full experience, you know.”

You couldn’t even fathom a response when you’re suddenly being shoved into Chan’s back because  the crowd behind you grew increasingly impatient at your frozen state. Minghao reaches for your the arm of your yellow parka, tugging you inside the venue like you were about to face heaven’s glory.

“Don’t. Let. Go.” You manage to grit at him just as the doors close behind you, a gust of wind icing your back.

The screams of people in other rooms echo throughout the metal pipes that strung through the ceilings and the spaces in the rotting wood. You were practically drowning in the crowd of people, waiting for the show to start. The only source of light was a dim fireplace on the side, illuminating a small corner of the room. You tighten your grip onto Minghao, who only laughs in response.

In seconds, there was a loud boom, followed by the tinkling of broken glass and metal. A set of doors opened, and the monsters were out.

You knew they weren’t real, the bloodied and battered nurses and patients (zombie nurses and zombie patients, of course) but you couldn’t help but fall into the suspension of disbelief when they were centimeters from your face demanding for your attention. A face of boiled over flesh grins at you with a toothless mouth, clutching at you by the arm and pushing you away from the crowd. You scream as you try to grasp for Minghao’s jacket, flashing lights and sirens playing a good show and rendering you in a panic.

The zombie throws the both of you in a pitch dark cell with a single mutilated mattress on the floor. The only reason you could tell that it was a cell was because of the sound of the metal chains clinking as it shut you in. Your hands flail wildly for Minghao, before finding his jacket and pulling his arm flush against your chest.

“Since I’m alive,” you say shakily, letting your blunt nails dig into his thick coat, “I just want to let you know. Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.”

You expect Minghao to laugh, or even curse back at you, but there was no response of the sort.

“Unless you’re a paid zombie,” Jeonghan drawls levely, “Please don’t rip my arm off.”

You thought zombies were scary? No, being trapped in a cell with Jeonghan was the scariest of them all.

The only light which emanated from the room were the little blue and green safety lights on the floor, but it was more than enough to make out your companion’s soft jawline and high cheekbones. Definitely not Minghao.

“Jeonghan?” You squeak.

“The one and only.” He grins, tilting his head down to where his arm was pressed flush against your body. “God, your chest is so warm.”

You swallow a thick bout of saliva, your eyes slowly zeroing in on his arm which was practically ripped from his possession, landing right between the valley of your covered breasts. Heat quickly floods to your cheeks, and you throw it off your body like it was a decapitated limb.

“My bad,” you cough, shifting away from him and trying to get as far from him as possible. The asylum cell was so cramped that the farthest you could get from him was less than a meter, and it forced you to back up against the wall. “Let’s just try to get out of here.”

You walk up to the cell, slowly as you scope out the area. You can’t see much but you could feel that there had to be someone watching you, whether it be the same zombie that pulled you two in or a camera waiting for you to faint. Holding out a shaky hand, you reach to rattle the rusted cell with a single finger.

Two long, rotted hands slip between the cells as quick as a gun, and you were met centimeters away from another zombie, this time a maggot-eaten doctor, screeching in your face. You cry, your eyes bugging at how convincing their persona was, their arms trying to envelope you between themselves and the cell. Once you feel the doctor’s fingers curl upon your back you fling yourself off the cell, throwing yourself onto Jeonghan’s chest.  

“Are you scared?” he asks mildly, his voice laced with amusement. You feel his arms wander across your sides in response, naturally curling over your coat.

“Me? Pfft, no! Of course I’mnotfuckholyfuckohmy—” You squirm in his hold, hearing the zombie patients rattle the cell chains and calling for brains brains brainsbrainnnnsssssssss. “Fuck you I paid twenty dollars for this experience, against my will! Let me be scared!”

He laughs, and you want to yell at him but he felt like a toasted marshmallow and his laugh sounded like pretty windchimes in comparison to all the screaming banshees outside. You felt his heartbeat thrum against your ears, contrasting against the cool facade he was trying to put up.

“I’ll save you from the zombies,” he pries you away from him, but he lets you cling to his arm again as he goes deeper beyond the cell. If he’s uncomfortable at the awkward way you hold his arm like a stuffed teddy bear, he doesn’t dare to complain. You hear his nails from his opposite hand scrape against the bricked up walls, feeling for another way out that didn’t have the zombie.

It’s a tight fit, but he guides your hand to a crack in the wall wide enough for the two of you to escape. It must’ve been an added element to the haunted house, other passageways and secret hallways to make the experience feel even more desolate and unescapable. Jeonghan insists for you to go first (“So you can be my human sacrifice!” he proceeded to cheerily suggest, which earned him a worn sneaker jabbing onto his foot) but it was actually because he’s taller and you needed to make a clear path for him.  

His warm breath fans your cherried cheeks, his head hovering next to yours as you follow the little blue and green lights toward the next room.

“So, this is nice.” Jeonghan hums, drumming his fingers against the walls. “We finally get to talk after missing each other’s paths for so long.”

“Oh, you’re right.” You reply quietly. More like actively avoiding on your part, but it was all in good nature for the sake of your sanity. However the Halloween Spirits were definitely trying to bite you back in the butt and jam you two in the tightest possible space so there was no possible  way you could get away from him again.

“Mm, it’s fine.” He picks out a fake cobweb in front of you, pulling it away so it doesn’t smack you in the face. Your heart nearly faints at the tenderness of the gesture.

“Can’t you be like, more scared?” You don’t mean to be so defensive, really. But he was quickly grating into every little bit of emotional sanity you had left, and coupled with all the scary zombies you were quickly losing your traction. You stop at the edge of your escape route, and you hear the melodic sound of screaming humans and fake-humans alike. “You’re totally cramping the whole point of this activity.”

“Oh, I’m fucking terrified.” He chuckles, his voice oddly clear in the midst of the new room, a medical ward with blood and guts splattered across the floor and the beds. “But that wouldn’t look too cool. And besidesohfuckshitshitwhat—!”

A bloodied patient in a straightjacket clambers up to the two of you, baring its toothless mouth and spitting saliva. So, so fucking close that you both stumble and scream, the both of you toppling against the wall. You hear the crackle and sharp rattle of chains being held taut, and you watch the straightjacket-ed zombie struggle to meet ends with you, thrashing around the cot they were tied to.

But of course nothing was going to stop you from peeing your pants so you turn around and press the entirety of your head onto Jeonghan’s marshmallow down jacket, hoping the expensive material will muffle out the sounds once more.

“Not to take advantage of your vulnerability or anything,” you could hear the stupid smirk in his voice, “but I always thought you were pretty cute. It really is a shame you’re never around.”

You hoped for a quick, swift death.

“Fuck—Jeongha-ha-han!” You blurt out in frustration, curling your fingers to pull Jeonghan and you back up when more zombies approach you. Sirens blare in the distance, and white and scarlet strobe lights only amplify your panic. “I can’t fucking move and I’m shaking and will you please shut up and figure out the fastest way to get out of here because I need to pee! And die! And kill Minghao! And bring him back to life because he owes me twenty dollars. And kill him again!”

“Let’s say we ditch ‘em and do something else.” How the hell does he stand to stay so composed? “They can Uber back.”

You feel tears of playful frustration blurring your vision when you feel foreign arms try to cut between you and Jeonghan’s embrace, yet another doctor zombie foaming at the mouth and grinning at you crudely.

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan frowns disarmingly at the zombie, “But you’re not invited so can you please back off.” The zombie hisses at him, “You’re being rude.”

“F-fine!” The zombie gives up on Jeonghan and opts to focus back to you instead, tugging fervently on the hem of your jacket. “Let’s get out of here out of hereouttaohstoptouchingme!”

Jeonghan snatches your hand hand, gripping it firmly. “Hold tight.”

You feel the rest of the haunted house get smaller and smaller as he expertly weaves through the track, moving quick enough to avoid oncoming zombies but slow enough so that you don’t get a headache. He pulls you away from all the scary attractions, but stops every now and then when there’s a blockage of people (and that’s when you press his arm impossibly tight against your own) until there’s natural moonlight at the end, signaling the exit.

Both your palms are disgustingly clammy and you’re pretty sure you’ve sweated through two of your layers, hearing a wet suction-y sound as you’re met with fresh air and remove yourself from Jeonghan. Clutching your chest and feeling your heartbeat against your ribcage you stumble as far as possible from the wretched building.

It takes all of fifteen seconds for you to register the fact that Jeonghan is calling your name, patting you on your shoulder to stand up straight. You look up at him, who is grinning happily. He runs a hand through his caramel tresses, ruffled by the cool evening wind. You squint your gaze because in all your years of studying science, you just couldn’t fathom how he manages to stand at the perfect spot, where the pearl moonlight drapes over his bangs.

“You okay?” He asks, pulling you up by your elbow.

“Yeah,” you swipe a thumb over your brows, forcing yourself to stand up straight. “Thanks.”

“So whaddaya say, let’s get out of here?”

You hope you don’t look too dumbfounded, struck that he was still willing to spend time with you. “I nearly pulled your arm out of your socket,” you say carefully, “And you still want to go out with me? Aren’t you tired of me sticking to you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if you stuck around for a long time.” He confesses easily, looking at you pointedly and showing how serious he was.

“But uh, Minghao offered me free pizza in exchange for coming here.”

“So? I’ll buy you a whole pie. And we can go out for ice cream.” He holds out his arm, tilting his head invitingly.

You bit your lip, which ended up being more of your lips running against your tongue because not only were you parched, but your subconscious was all for ditching it out and going out with Jeonghan (for the free pizza and ice cream, of course). Even in your stupidly puffy banana yellow jacket, he still found you attractive and it made you rethink your whole mission to avoid Yoon Jeonghan until graduation.

“Okay.” You agree, reaching for his arm. “But only if we take the rest of the boys home and eat in the dorm,” Jeonghan pouts at that, “And take it easy on me, alright? My heart can’t take this much panic in one night.”

“Fine.” He has that all-knowing smirk on, the one that simultaneously wrecks and slightly turns you on. His pink tongue darts out to swipe over his chapped lips, “Because after today, you can’t avoid me now.”

[jinjikook]

Sugar Sweet | 6 | (M) [Discontinued]

word count: 4.4k

genre: smut + fluff; college AU + fuckboy!kihyun

pairing: reader/kihyun

summary: your best friend & roommate changkyun just wanted to help get you laid. instead you found solace in a pink haired man named kihyun who had a smart mouth with sharp words you weren’t afraid to let cut you, as long as he didn’t mind you hurting him a little too.

dedicated to: @honeyheonie, @lostinmonstax & @jooheonster, who legit were some of my biggest backbones to keep me going (cough & for @tomatoholmes bc she stans ki cough)

a/n:  i’m v sorry this took so long, i didn’t even realize it had been nearly two months since ss 5! time is going by too quickly, but i think i’ve truly found a solidified plot line to the point where i think i’ve speculated where everything will go and therefore than means more concrete chapters, sooner updates and a finalized chapter count! i cut this chapter off a little early bc i didn’t want to head into the next part just yet, but stay tuned for Jin’s party kiddos :) much love to all those patient guppies who stayed by my side and encouraged me to continue despite the many setbacks i felt.

music: suffer - charlie puth

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 7 

masterlist

In case you missed it: this happened right before

“So, what’s this about a party tonight?” You innocently asked, curiosity peaked once you finally settled after your little encounter.

Kihyun looked up from the worn down Tupperware he was eating from, Kung Pao chicken long forgotten. His words came out muffled, smothered in rice and noodles as a few stray pieces of chicken slipped out. His cheeks were puffed out, the hamster themed nickname still coming to mind as you watched him try to swallow his mouthful before attempting to talk again.

“Don’t worry about it. Yoongi is just being an asshole, like always.”

Scoffing, you reach forward and let Kihyun feed you a fork-full of his soggy noodles. Chewing thoughtfully before speaking, something that slips Kihyun’s mind far too easily, you deadpan, “That doesn’t answer my question. I wouldn’t mind going, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what? You think Yoongi is gonna make a move on me? Don’t you think you could have a little more faith in me, Kihyun?” You couldn’t help but feel your voice strain at the accusation, as if you couldn’t help yourself much like a hungry dog to a full meal.

“Well let me think, the last time you were at a party, it was when you and I met, and I fucked you brainless that night. Who’s to say it won’t happen again tonight, a rerun episode but with a different character this time.” Kihyun looked at you, almost scornfully. This was a complete 180 from his earlier demeanor, his attitude waning from cocky and smooth to spiteful and stinging. It hurt you more than you wanted to lead on, but you couldn’t help as your volume increased with every syllable you spoke.

“Are you kidding me? I was specifically looking to get laid that night, I wasn’t even seeing anyone! If we can even say that’s what we’re doing. I mean, you’ve fucking taken me on one whole date and fooled around with me a few times every now and then. Forgive me for being ‘that girl’ but what the fuck are we, Yoo Kihyun?!”

He sighed, his soft pink hair draping down in a small curtain over his gleaming skin. You hated how your finger itched to sweep it back and expose the polished marble underneath. “Baby, please,” he whispered, breathless and pleading. His eyes matched the vulnerability his voice exposed, an emotion clearly raw and unused by the peach haired man. “Just… I don’t want to lose you. Yoongi is my friend, yes, but he’s also like me. A lot like me, actually.”

Giving into the temptation, you let your digits carefully drag his hair to neatly land past his forehead, thumb brushing the skin there gently. “You’re afraid of losing me?” Your voice was laced with disbelief, the entire emotional ride from the car earlier and afterwards still not convincing you that Kihyun was completely a changed man.

He could only nod, the motion making his hair come crashing back like waves of salmon cascading on the pearly white sands of his flawless skin.

A whisper, was all you could muster. It was small, meek and easily lost in the white noise of Kihyun’s apartment. But Kihyun’s head perked up at the squeak of it, hearing you in crystal clear definition. His lips toyed with a smile and he stood up from where he sat on his couch (“It’s a loveseat, a couch is so much rattier” Kihyun had said when you commented on his high end furniture earlier.) to press a chaste kiss to your lips, keeping it surprisingly PG, save for the hands that settled low on your hips. You wondered if there were magnets on his hands and your hipbones, with how they always seemed to come together one way or another.

His breath felt like heaven as it intermingled with yours, despite that both of your tongues were heavy with soy sauce.

“Baby?”

Eyes bright, shining and gleaming like the softest pebble in a trickling brook, he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to mimic the kiss he placed on your lips onto the skin of your hand.

“I’d be honored if you’d be my date to Jin’s party tonight.” His voice was rough, a promise that this was only going to go further as his continued to pepper kisses down to your wrist in succession, awaiting your answer. When you finally exhaled and breathed out a light and airy yes, Kihyun just couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

It went on for what felt like hours but his neat little alarm clock on his bedside table marked as 47 minutes. Every second had your spine tingling, toes curling while your breath forever stayed caught in your throat. You can’t even remember how many times you’d come but when Kihyun finally had, it was glorious, like a victory in itself.

He was high, keening as his moans sounded more like vocal exercises rather than exclamations of passion. Every sweet note strung along like a melody of lusts and, if you dared to say, love. It soothed every aching muscle that screamed for you to come down from whatever position he had you bent into at the time, ease in your bones as he whispered sweet praises against your skin and stamped it with a kiss in order to seal it underneath.

Kihyun continued to kiss your shoulders softly, fingers gracing every inch of your body as he seemed to seep the tension away from your bones. You sighed contentedly as his fingers brushed a particularly sore bruise along the meat of your hips, where Kihyun’s grip never faltered as he dove into you time and time again.

“Are you up for a shower babe? Or should I draw you a nice, warm bath? I have bath salts and stuff,” You looked back to question Kihyun with a glare, lips pursing to stifle a laugh that was threatening to come out. “What? A man can have that stuff, it’s relaxing as fuck. Besides, it helps me have this perfect skin that you love so much.”

“I do not love your skin—“

“Baby girl, you practically worship it. I see where you look, it’s either there, my hair or my dick.”

“I look at you as a person, you asshole. But a bath works, mostly because I don’t trust my legs to work anymore than I trust a lump of jelly to hold me up. And don’t say you can do it because you’re no muscle pig Yoo, you’ll get tired from holding me up eventually.” He shrugged and slipped out from where he was spooning you, leaving you with one last kiss imprinted on your cheek before he left the half-lit room into the direction you knew his bathroom was in.

Laying there in a sated silence, the air was thick from the scent of sex but also from the swelling you felt in your heart. You swore that Kihyun felt the same fullness inside, warm and satisfied like after a huge meal.

It was like a breath of fresh air, clinging to the sacs in your lungs as you finally felt some sort of true satisfaction from the sex, not just the lulling pleasure afterwards from a good lay but instead, the feeling of being safe; comforted by the idea that Kihyun isn’t going to kick you out this time, and there was more to offer than just a hot meal in the morning.

Maybe he’d even give you a key for his apartment.

Shaking your head, you wanted to stop those thoughts from breeding; as hope springs eternal. The last thing you wanted was to have an idea for the future only for things not to work out and have it all ripped away from you right before your eyes. Like a magician’s trick: stealing the cloth from under all the silverware. But you were surely not a magician, and you knew a novice like yourself would tug on a corner of the fabric only to tear everything in shambles, every glass and plate falling over and teetering over the edge to break in a million shards and fragments, impossible to piece together even with the best glue money can buy. You’d only make a mess and it’d be yours to clean up, despite all the cuts and blood you’ll spill in the process.

“Babe? Did you hear me?” Kihyun’s voice traveled from the bathroom, the sound bouncing off the porcelain sink and tiled walls only to reach down the hall just enough for you to hear the barest hint of it. Kihyun’s head followed his voice, poking in the doorway, revealing a mop of semi-wet pink along with a shirtless torso with small droplets of water making their way south with the aid of gravity. “You ready?”

You could only muster a small whine, reaching out your arms and giving him the best grabby hands you could manage. Kihyun laughed, breathless and lovely, as you approached your nude body on the bed, still tangled in his expensive bedsheets. Though no amount of money can make up for the damage you two did to them in the last hour.

It took some maneuvering but Kihyun finally got a decent enough grip that didn’t make you brain yourself on the walls of the hallway, the small trek over to the bathroom feeling much long with how many times Kihyun had to readjust his grip.

(“Kihyun! That’s my ass!” “Oops, sorry my bad.”)

Dipping you in gently, the warm water lapped up your body as Kihyun slowly let your body drift naturally into the large bathtub he had, the bath salts settling around you as you finally seated yourself properly. Kihyun smiled in satisfaction as you felt every tense muscle ease with the hot water and rose bath salts.

Rose seemed fitting, what with Kihyun’s hair and all. You had to keep in a laugh at the thought, not wanting Kihyun to think you were being unappreciative of all he’d sweetly done for you.

He hummed softly as he pattered around the bathroom, completing a few finishing touches by lighting some candles, dumping some more salt in the tub along with scented rose petals. You couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness, feeling the ache melt of your body as the water took a more pinkish hue.

“Hey Ki?” He hummed to acknowledge he was listening, back facing you as he finished with the last candle and flicked off the light switch to reveal the warm orange glow that naturally bred in the tiled room with the help of the dozen or so burning flames. “Can… can you put some music on? It doesn’t have to be anything specific,” You chewed on your lip, wondering if you could finish what you wanted to ask since you’d never asked this of him before. “And maybe you could… sing? You don’t have to if you don’t want.” You hurriedly added the remainder of your sentence, not wanting him to feel forced to reveal this part of his life.

He laughed once more, it was small and light and airy like the cotton candy you thought his hair resembled.

“Sure baby girl, whatever you want. I’m gonna turn on the stereo in the living room,” He has a stereo in his living room? Granted you hadn’t really noticed since every time you’ve been here there had been more… pressing matters.

He stepped out of the room and left you alone once more, though now you could clearly hear him shuffling to and fro in the living room just down the hall. You ventured to sneak a peek, craning your neck and jostling the waters around you. You caught sight of Kihyun’s skin passing by a few seconds at a time, his pink hair flopping with him. It was cute, like a lost puppy.

Soon a low, reverberating bass hummed through the floors all the way to the tub, making the water ripple from the sound. It wasn’t loud enough to disturb the neighbors but it at least gave the atmosphere what it was missing, white noise to distract from the drippy faucet and the flickering candles. Settling back into the tub, you patiently waited for Kihyun to return to join you.

Except he never came.

“Ki? Baby?” You spoke into the darkness that enveloped the living room now, apparent that the lights had been turned off. He shouted a small coming! that made you smile, his voice sounding further than normal, meaning he’d probably stopped by the kitchen.

He returned with a bottle of blood red wine, two glasses in tow. He smiled his all too perfect smile and you couldn’t help but return it, the heat radiating from you in waves so strongly that you’re sure it fueled the flames around you to glow a tad bit brighter, if that were even possible.

Setting the items down by the tub, Kihyun motioned for you to sit straight and he stepped into the tub behind you, settling his back against the edge of it. Once he spread his legs and had them on either side of you, he pulled you back into his embrace, your wet back meeting his warm and surprisingly more broad than you remembered chest.

He sighed, deep in his throat and it made his chest vibrate with the sound. It lulled you to lean your head back on his shoulder, eyes lazily meeting his own half lidded ones.

Without warning, Kihyun began to sing, in the octaves of dripping gold and honey. The song was already partway through but it didn’t stop Kihyun from harmonizing from what felt like the heavens above. You swore the sound alone cradled your lungs and kept the air from filling them up.

“So here we go, go again,��� His hands stroked along your sides, soft and trembling along the smooth skin there.

“It’s like I’m caught under your spell,” Kihyun reached past the cusp of the tub, pulling back with a glass of wine for yourself, his own cradled under the lazy grip on the hand he had braced on the side closest to the wall. You couldn’t help but take a slow pull of the bloody liquid, the slow and slightly room temperature drink making its way down your throat like molasses, like it had all day to reach the pit of your stomach and warm you to a decent buzz. The flavor that followed was tart, sans any bitterness as it tasted as sugar sweet as everything else that came with knowing Kihyun.

“You’re wearing black, black magic,” His hand pulls back a few strands of your hair from your face, the water clinging to the hair and making it stick to your scalp. Some of the drops cascaded down your face, your eyes naturally coming to close at the sensation.

An idea burned in Kihyun’s mind, his cock twitching at the filthy thought. Letting his hand rest at your clavicles, he brings his own wine glass to his lips, the deep and rich red contrasting with the lilac pink that dusted his lips. As he sipped hungrily on the drink, your eyes slowly opened to the sight of a singular drop of red slipping past the seam of his lips, trailing down the column of his perfect throat, where a prominent vein lay. Before it could drag any lower, you latched your mouth there was best you could without twisting your body into that resembling a question mark. Sucking lightly, you make sure to pass your tongue and capture all of the fruity taste that the wine left sticky on his skin.

He groaned, the noise matching a vibration that hummed with your lips where they were attached. Pulling his glass away, he smacks his lips and chases the taste from his lips with a pass or two of his own tongue, mimicking how you lapped at his neck. You returned to your earlier position, head resting on Kihyun’s shoulder once more as he continued to sing, his voice slightly more raspy with something akin to want; like fire licked at his throat and vocal chords instead of yourself.

“Well, baby don’t wear nothing else,” His touch scorched now—burning a trail of need in the wake where your veins lay. No longer were his digits innocently skimming your sides, they gripped and tugged with intent, malicious indeed. He reached forward to cup your left breast with his only free hand, toying with your nipple and making you whimper as shocks made their way past your ribcage and down into the water, where your core was twitching.

“Well, open up this door,” Kihyun punctuated his igniting words as his hand dipped down under the water, gently skimming where you burned the hottest. You jolted at the phantom touch, ripples in the water and some sloshing over the edge in reaction to your sudden movement. Some of Kihyun’s wine crashed against the edge of the glass, a few stray droplets coming down in rich rivulets, each one larger than the next as they reached their end and dripped off the clear glass.

When they landed in the water, they tinged the area for just a mere moment, before the amount of water diluted to color and took the opaque red away and replaced it with the peach of the bath salts. You felt several grains swirl around you while you kicked around, trying to fight the extreme sensations Kihyun was bringing to you without even as much as touching you properly.

“Don’t you play,” He chuckled into your ear, his breath hot and heavy against the shell of it as his tongue came to follow. The burst and blooming of pleasure that came to fruition made you whine, keening in hopes that Kihyun would show mercy to his bathing lover. He suckled along your neck, bringing the glass of wine in his hand to your neck and tipping it over purposely, the cool liquid splashing audibly on your shoulder.

He watched with a burning fever as the wine stained your skin, leaving sticky sweet trails of color until it either ran off the sides into the milky bath water or collected in the space between your bones, in pools of inky red in your clavicles.

Unable to resist any longer, he sucked and lapped at the gaps where the liquid stayed static. You gasped at his hot mouth latched on your body, tasting every drop of wine along with the salty tang of your own skin, intermingling with the bitter rose water that still dotted your skin in pin pricks. Once he deemed you clean of the wine, he whispered your name, breathless, in your ear. You shivered at the sound, realizing he was just as wrecked as you were. His cock was solid behind you, full after all the teasing he’d succumbed you to.

“Ain’t no other man, gon’ make you feel the same,” He half whispered-half sang against your neck, his breath coming short and desperate. The water swished and sloshed around the tub, the motion between the two of you causing it to erupt in waves to the point of cascading over the side and splashing down on the tile and soaking the maroon bath mat that lay on the other side.

Kihyun took the time to extract your wine glass from your trembling fingers, no fight in you as you relinquished the glass with minimal effort. He placed his and your own where he had originally put them, next to the half-full bottle that still stood there untouched.

“Wanna make, wanna make love,” He whimpered as you grinded back against him, causing his head to brush up against you over and over again. Had he not been submerged in that moment, you were sure he’d be drooling pre-come all over your ass, no doubt making a mess like always.

He gripped your hips, that pesky magnet coming back into play, as he rocked against your backside. The water was relentless, constantly splashing and almost completely covering the sound of the music in the background.

“Girl, I can’t lie,” Kihyun was practically begging now, his singing barely above a whisper as he tried to put his focus in working his hips along you. All you could rely on for satisfaction was the ghosting fingertips of Kihyun’s hand dipping down to tease along your thighs, and the constant slap of the splashing water against your hot core. It was a siren’s call, begging you to succumb to the utmost pleasure you needed, to just push Kihyun’s fingers where you needed them most. But unfortunately, nature doesn’t work that way and water does just the opposite effect of what you need in order to proceed as you would normally.

If it was up to you, you’d already be full of Kihyun, bouncing in his lap as you rode him into next week.

“I’m just a sucker,” Kihyun mouthed at your neck again, his voice finding some strength as he fucked against you, the mere pressure and friction driving him mad.

“For a cold-hearted lover,” He whispered something into your ear after that particular lyric, something akin and along the lines of a breathless apology. As if he was sorry for whatever he’d done to you before, for ever making you feel less than the royalty he thought you deserved to be.

“You make me suffer,” Kihyun couldn’t hold back his own whimpers and moans, the thread inside him finally unraveling as he pistoned his hips against you, the smacks of his skin against your audible along with the slaps of waves of water colliding with each other as they traveled in opposite directions. Every forward thrust from Kihyun made you come to meet with an opposing force, another hard wave of water coming in contact with your lower half and making you squirm, only causing more smacks against you in return.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” He finished himself off, one particularly hard grind against you making him erupt in white-hot pleasure, his come going straight into the water. It made the water between you two murkier, and Kihyun made sure to ask that you were on the pill, to ensure you weren’t going to get pregnant from any stray swimmers. Once you nodded vigorously, Kihyun chuckled and finished with a few more thrusts, letting his high ride out its duration before he returned to singing into your ear, both hands coming around to tease at your nipples.

“You should come over,” Kihyun teased, his breath fanning over the side of your face as he ground his now-soft cock into you, in hopes to keep the motion so you’d climax soon. The fingers that pulled and played with your nipples sent shocks of sensations of everywhere, toes curling from the aching pleasure you felt ramping up inside you.

Kihyun chuckled against your skin, the sound bringing you that much closer to the edge. You couldn’t help it as you rose up higher against him, your back sticking to his chest as you head rolled back to crane onto his shoulder, your eyes meeting Kihyun’s own burning dark orbs. You could see the aching satisfaction gleaming back at you, his skin mocking you once more with just how fucking pretty he was. You always seemed to notice this at this point, before or after you get to come. It’s a sex revelation, you come to realize.

“You should come, you should come baby,” Kihyun pointed the lyrics to you, fingers grazing the inside of your thighs and the mixture of his sickeningly sweet voice made you topple over the edge, your fingers gripping the edges of the tub until white bled into your skin as you came harder than you’re sure you’ve ever had—completely untouched.

At least, untouched in the proper sense.

Kihyun whispered praises in your ear, still rocking you gently to ride out your own orgasm along with the soft waves the curled in the water. Your eyes were closed, the pleasure too intense to handle with them open. You felt like you were at the beach, lost at sea; floating and buoyant in the open waters. The only thing that kept you anchored, tethered to reality, was Kihyun’s lilting voice telling you how good you are, how well you did, how proud he was of you. You could feel the bubbles forming in your stomach, erupting into small brush fires that stoked something even hotter inside you, something burning and cooking you from the inside out. It was like sticking fruit on a grill, locking in the sweetness inside you with the heat alone. The heat from Kihyun and what he did to you.

As you tried to come back from your high, you registered Kihyun still softly speaking into your ear, though his speaking was gentler now, if even that was possible. It was curling around you like smoke off a cigar, enticing you to fall even deep for him.

“Don’t make me suffer, don’t make me suffer,” He reached every octave, with ease in a way that made your stomach lurch to hear him sing more, to hear him in a opera hall; unadulterated and raw, the way he made you feel.

“I won’t, I promise,” You whispered back, hoarsely but still audible. You knew you were answering something that wasn’t intended to be, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to say something, the words were stoking something fierce inside you to the point that you felt like if you never opened your mouth, you’d never survive the night. Kihyun coaxed these words and feelings out of you like it was nothing.

You certainly weren’t a magician, incapable of hiding your true intentions and able to keep the veil of illusion up while simultaneously aweing the audience and keeping their attention enraptured—but Kihyun was. He was the best among them all, able to breathe fire into your lungs and make you bend every which way to his will, to his word. All while looking like an angel himself.

But the angel may just turn out to be the devil, dressed in pretty lace and pastels.

The song Kihyun sang said that you were the reason for his suffering, but it might just be the other way around. He might be the actual, literal death of you. And that… that might just be okay.

What a way to go.

[weightlossfitness2]

Kath’s Favorite Things – Kath Eats Real Food

Instead of constructing a present information of issues I’m coveting this Black Friday, I assumed I’d make a listing of my favourite issues, Oprah fashion! This is a listing of issues that I like and use on almost a every day foundation OR issues that I’ve and would make an important present. A bonus part for the children on the finish!

Gifts For Home

Sonos – A Sonos with Alexa speaker (or three) would make a very nice dude present! Thomas actually needed them and I resisted for SO LONG. I stated they have been too costly and we didn’t take heed to music sufficient. Well it was a catch 22 as a result of we take heed to music much more since getting them. We have three whole – two downstairs and one upstairs. And we’re including one for the porch when it’s time. We have the Alexa enabled one, which has been SO good for our important ground. Yes it’s slightly annoying to have to make use of the Sonos app, however upon getting your favorites starred and no matter subscription you’ve (we have now an Apple Music month-to-month subscription) they work so nicely.

Winc – aka how I do wine. Love this wine membership! It would make an important present. They have all the pieces from classics to humorous bottles to cans of rose and glowing. Get $22 off with my hyperlink!

Yeti Mug – This mug will not be tippy, dishwasher protected, retains espresso tremendous heat. Couldn’t stay with out it! A fantastic present for a espresso lover.

Alexa plugs – We have 5 of those plugs in our home and they’re SO handy! All of our important lights are voice managed so after we stroll in a room we will say “Alexa lights on” and so they all activate. Since we don’t have overhead lights in these rooms and have 2-Three lamps, it’s so a lot better than turning all of them on by hand, particularly since I’ve a child in my arms a whole lot of the time!

The Candle Lab – These candles are superior and I’ve one on every ground of my home. Great for gifting, and so they have present playing cards too. Favorite scents: First Snow, Bamboo, Wasabi.

Dyson – I do know I point out this cordless vacuum a couple of occasions a yr, nevertheless it’s at all times on my favourite issues checklist as a result of I exploit it so typically. The Animal Absolute is by much better than the V6 I used to have. You get what you pay for! I like that it has each hardwood and carpet attachments. I don’t personal a daily corded vacuum!

Personal Art – Bruna Mebs has carried out work of Mazen, my dad and mom’ home, and Gus. They make such stunning, private presents!

Airpods – Airpods have exceeded expectations. Why did I wait so lengthy to get them? Because I didn’t know the way seamlessly they combine with my Apple merchandise. You can simply pull one out to pause or put them in and so they magically sync. Everyone who loves Apple ought to have them! I’ve this little case to maintain them from getting misplaced.

Gifts To Wear

Colorful Koala Leggings – These are my new favourite on a regular basis leggings. They are thick and compressiony, but completely flex for carrying underneath tunics or attire. The 7/eight are the proper size for my legs, and the pocket is the BEST – particularly if I’m carrying a high with out a pocket.

Lulu Define Zip Pocket Jacket – This jacket (and variations of it) are my staple to put on to the fitness center. The zip pockets maintain my telephone, Airpods, and keys. The having a zipper down the entrance (as a substitute of a pullover) means it’s straightforward to tackle and off at the start and finish of every exercise.

Athleta joggers – I assumed leggings have been the Most Comfortable Clothing Ever – till I discovered these joggers! The pockets + the fashion give them an edge. LIVE in mine!

Mandarin Violet – Wearing this hand cream and physique butter on a regular basis! It’s additionally within the lip gloss vault. I actually hope they proceed the scent out of vacation and into the on a regular basis traces! This tinted balm follows me round always (when there isn’t a Butterscotch Jellie in there!). The untinted model lives on my evening stand and I put it on at bedtime every evening. PS. Everything Beautycounter is 15% off with free delivery till Sunday!! 

Rothy’s – You’ve most likely seen Rothy’s throughout now. Perhaps you’ve a pair or two. I purchased them early on and so they’re the one footwear I’ve gotten compliments on in airports! I’ve the rounded toe in grey and the purpose in a vivid blue. While I like all the main points and patterns they’ve come out with, what I really need subsequent are traditional black within the rounded toe. I want the spherical to the purpose as a result of I’ve vast toes. They can get slightly smelly, however I got here up with a great cleansing routine that I do twice a yr or so. Get $20 off with my hyperlink!

Lou + Gray pants – The softest, coziest lounge pants ever made. I put on them very first thing within the mornings (since I sleep in PJ shorts) and within the evenings after taking off my “daytime” garments.

Allbirds Runners – I purchased these on a whim and am SO GLAD I did. The motive I like them a lot is since you really don’t need to put on socks with them. They are as mushy as socks and as comfy as tennis footwear. I like that I don’t need to tie them every time I put them on both – simply slip on over the naked foot and out the door. I haven’t washed mine but, however I’ll most likely have to quickly, and I’m so glad that’s an choice! Love that the corporate is a B corp!

Apple Watch – Honorable point out shout out to my watch as a result of it’s actually part of my physique and I can’t think about life with out it. It retains me environment friendly with my inbox (as a result of I can archive on a whim), figuring out laborious, organized with lists and reminders, and in contact by way of textual content.

Gifts For Kids

Fit Watch – Mazen loves his Garmin Vivofit watch. So a lot in order that we’re getting him the Verizon Gizmo for Christmas. The Vivofit can monitor steps, chores, time, timers, date. He loves it. The Gizmo provides easy textual content and calls from a velocity dial checklist. Now that he can learn, I can’t wait to textual content him!

Baby Shark Book – Nona purchased this ebook for Birch’s birthday and he LOVES it! If you’ve a child in your life, this ebook is a enjoyable present. The songs may drive some dad and mom loopy, however all of us love singing them collectively. They’re tremendous catchy. Naturally the Christmas themed monitor is the perfect

What are you searching for right now?

On my Black Friday / Cyber Monday watch checklist:

An Away Suitcase

A snowsuit for Birch

A household portrait canvas deal

Pants/joggers for Mazen

Men’s Lululemon offers for Thomas (shhhh!)

Related

The post Kath’s Favorite Things – Kath Eats Real Food appeared first on Weight Loss Fitness.

from Weight Loss Fitness https://weightlossfitnesss.info/kaths-favorite-things-kath-eats-real-food/

[neverisalongtime-ja-blog]

Chapter 1: And we met again

Hello everyone! First of all let me thank you for being here. This is my attempt of a fan fiction with Josh Klinghoffer as a main character.

I want to thank as well a very good friend who helped me with the english writing which is not my first language. That friend writes another amazing history with Josh: “Be my getaway” and if you haven’t read it you NEED to check it out right now! That history was the main inspiration for me to sit and write this.

I hope you all like the crazy things that comes out of my head. Don’t be shy with the feedback!

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Anastasia had it all. The dream job, a pile of Money in the bank that keeps growing, a list of friends and above all she had power. A tangible power that could make everything better. Don’t you want Anastasia’s life?

The sun was shining bright that afternoon, more that it usually does. It was so bright that it managed to slip through the thick dark curtains of the bedroom. Anastasia opened her eyes regretting all the alcohol she drank the night before. Her eyelids were unable to open completely repressing her pupils as they try to focus the vision, then she felt the stinging headache so characteristic of a hangover. She grabbed her phone to look at the screen. That made everything worst, but she could see the time: 12:34. Suddenly her eyes opened big, so fast and so violent that it hurt. She jumped out of the bed, took all her clothes off as fast as she could, she only stopped to realize there was some orange stains on her t-shirt – it was obvious she threw up last night even though she didn’t remember. Then she took the shortest shower in history.

She was short on time to get properly dressed up and no chance to choose an appropriate outfit, so she picked up a pair of white sneakers, jeans and a white t-shirt, not usually what she would wear to a business meeting but this wasn’t a corporate reunion full of corporate hostility, that relaxed attire would work just fine.

Anastasia went down to the kitchen where her older sister Barbara -Long brown hair and an amazing fit body with curves- was feeding her eleven-year-old twins, London –a boy- and Lynda –a girl-, both with bright big turquoise eyes, just as everyone else in the family.

-          I didn’t think I’d see you awake so soon- Barbara said without taking her eyes off the bread she was spreading with strawberry jelly.

-          I have a meeting at 1 o clock. I totally forgot it. - Anastasia exclaimed while grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

-          Are you going to meet with Tony? - Asked that mother fighting with her boy trying to get him to eat some bread- God! You really need to tell him how obsessed you were with him when you were a teenager. - Both burst out laughing.

-          Thank God I woke up! - Anastasia said.

-          I don’t think it was soon enough- Anastasia noticed that sarcastic tone on her sister’s voice and looked up to the clock on the kitchen wall. It had already been 12 minutes since 1:00 p.m.

She ran out the house got inside her car and before she turns it on her phone lighted up. She looks at it and the words “Hurry up!” could be read on the screen. The message writer was her business partner and artistic guru Brian Burton who was already at the meeting place.

Anastasia was a girl with a promising future, a past to remember and a dreamy present. Her life revolved around music because her father, Nick Truman, was the leader of a legendary rock band, everyone knew him and she was, step by step, making a name of her own in the industry. Despite having her own band, she was a business girl that had just opened her own record label and a compendium of recording studios in Los Angeles with her partner Brian and her big brother Mark.

That 27 year old girl with pale skin, big turquoise eyes and midnight blue hair has already produced almost a hundred of hit songs and records that landed at top of the music charts. Besides writing songs she played violin, cello, harp, piano and guitar.

Anastasia felt she teleported, she didn’t take as long as what she usually does driving through Los Angeles. She landed at a nice cafe with wooden tables and flowers everywhere, a very feminine place for the testosterone load she was about to face. In a corner, in the background, almost hidden, there were five men sitting in a table, one of them, with a small afro and dark complexion turned to see her, smiled and waved, inviting her to approach.

-          Finally! – Brian exclaimed standing up from the chair and giving her a hug.

-          I have no excuses – she said in a low tone so only him could listen to her. Then she turned around to the rest of the faces in that table – Hello everyone, I'm very sorry for the delay.

-          Don’t worry, we weren’t bored anyway - said the man sitting just in front of her, Anthony. The guy her sister was talking about.

-          You look better every time I see you. How you do it? – Asked Anastasia.

-          I date girls like you- Anthony answered - I can imagine you remember Chad and Flea- Anastasia waved at them- and of course Josh- Tony pointed out to the guy sitting next to her.

The boy smiled tenderly, with a hint of embarrassment. Anastasia remembered him. He was Josh Klinghoffer one of her brother’s and Brian’s good friends and a musical prodigy that she met years ago. For the last six years Josh was part of Anthony’s band and because of the busy life they had the communication between them was pretty much inexistent except for the “happy birthday” messages that were sent respectively.

-          I haven’t seen you in a while - Anastasia told Josh sitting next to him.

-          And I’m regretting that – Josh could be very shy. When he wasn’t on stage playing any instrument he ran away from people but Anastasia always had the power to bring out the best of him.

A waiter came to the table to take the order, interrupting a strong visual connection between Anastasia and Josh.

-          What would you like? It’s already afternoon time so you fancy a mimosa? Anthony asked.

-          NO! - Anastasia screamed before the waiter could write down anything – No liquor for me today. I had enough last night. I want something light- Anastasia said while everyone was laughing.

-          We have fresh lemonade - the waiter said leaving clear the fact that he hated that job.

Anastasia nodded and then everyone make their orders.

-          Wild night? - Anthony asked Anastasia with a mischievous look in his eyes.

-          Wild wouldn’t be the right word to use. Fun would! It was my friend Mandy’s birthday and some friends came over to the house and, well, yeah things went a little bit out of control. But here I am, not as fresh as a lettuce but lucid enough to tell you how excited I am that this work will come true.

-          Looking at you right now talking about work is the last thing I want to do with you- Anthony replied.

-          Stop flirting with me! But I have something to confess to you and if this project is going to be real I don’t want any kind of tension between us. - Anthony showed interest- I must admit, right here right now, that when I was a teenager I has a huge crush on you- Anastasia said and the table burst into laughs but Josh just gave a half smile.

-          And what happened? - Anthony asked.

-          I met you – the laughs were harder and this time and Josh joined them.

-          Let’s talk about business- said Brian in a much more serious tone.

-          Yeah, so you all want us to produce the new album? - asked Anastasia.

-          It would be the strangest thing I ever did in my life buy yes - Anthony answered.

-          I mean… you know rock is not what I am use to – Anastasia said. She was a star producing pop hits.- That is Brian’s thing.

-          Yes but you two together are a power couple! – Chad said.

-          Now we are a power couple – Brian laughs.

-          You must know that in the studio I’m totally different than at a party. Even though it is fun it’s still work and I need one thousand percent commitment from all of you- Anastasia assured.

-          Well, we are willing to commit to you – this time the words came from Flea.

-          All of you? At the same time? – Anastasia smiled – That’s too much trouble – everyone laughed.

-          Let’s do this – said Brian with excitement.

-          Perfect! I’m going to schedule a meeting at the label and it’s done! – said Anthony.

The conversation continued with different themes and laughter was not missed but Anastasia couldn’t help to focus on Josh. He was just like she remembered him: tall, shy, with a baby face even though he was 35 years old already. Since the moment she met him back then she felt a strong connection to him. He wasn’t the kind of guy she would date. She had always been with men with hot bodies and lame brains. But Josh was different; he had a pure soul and was full of artistic expressions.

-          And how’s your love life? – Anthony asked towards Anastasia.

-          You know that saying that reads “Either you have money or you have love but not both? – Anastasia said and Anthony nodded. – Well I will die being fucking rich! – Everyone laughs.

-          Don’t say that. What happened to this guy? The actor – Anthony asked.

-          Chris? How do I explain this…? I really need someone next to me that can actually have a conversation with me, someone who I can learn something from. That “just sex” thing is fun for a while – Josh looked at her - but if they aren’t any “extra sex” activities I’ll get bored, and my one night stands phase is in the past. So being with Chris was like having a one night stand every night. Didn’t work out for me.

-          So - Anthony was outraged – are you telling me that you aren’t a virgin anymore? – He burst into laughs implying that it was a joke.

-          It’s been a while since then – Anastasia answered and smiled.

Anastasia was waiting for the valet parking guy to bring her car when she felt a hand on her left shoulder and jumped.

-          Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you - Said Josh laughing. She smiled – I just wanted to tell you that it was great seeing you again. You look great. How is your brother? I haven’t talked to him in ages.

-          He’s great. He is been doing a million of stuff keeping himself busy. He is town now, actually at my house. You should text him you two use to be good friends.

-          I know. I will. Talking about texts, I have lost some phone numbers because of my mania of destroying cell phones. Can I have yours again? – Josh asked looking to the floor.

Anastasia smiled and gave him her number again.

-          It’s unbelievable that we have not been able to see each other in all this time – Josh said lighting a cigarette – having so many friends in common.

It was true. Anastasia had her own band and the drummer was one of Josh’s best friends, Eric. They even had another side band, called Dot Hacker.

-          Eric always talks to me about you – Josh admitted - I instigated him to do so.

-          You could have called me – Anastasia said.

-          I didn’t have your number – Josh said showing her the phone – I destroy phones like every month, remember?

-          Just excuses – Anastasia said – My car is here. Call me. Come to the house. Mark will be happy to see you. You got to see the new studio I built at the house – said Anastasia while getting inside her car – You will not want to leave.

-          I’m sure I won’t – Josh murmured, watching as Anastasia leaving.

The girl drove back to her house really excited for the upcoming project but Josh’s image was stuck in her mind. It was like if someone engraved it with a hot iron into her brain. She entered her house and walked straight to the studio, her legs just went there automatically, her brother Mark, a tall and strong guy with short brown hair, was inside.

-          You are not going to believe who I saw today – She said throwing herself in the comfy sofa at the control room.

-          Josh? - Her brother asked with the biggest smile he could give.

-          How do you know? – She asked him incredulous.

-          You said yesterday that you had a meeting with the Chili Peppers and, well, he is part of the band so… it’s not rocket science you know, just logic. How is he?

-          Better than never- Anastasia answered.

-          Are you still in love with him?

-          I never was in love with him. But now I can’t keep him out of my mind- Mark smiled.

-          I can’t believe that nothing ever happened between you two – The guy said.

-          I’m not the kind of girl he dates- Anastasia assures getting up from the sofa and sitting in a chair next to her brother – Besides, our friendship has never been close, I mean I know him because he is your friend, He isn’t even MY friend. The fact that he is close to Eric is just mere coincidence.

-          You are the kind of girl any guy would want to date- Mark answered trying to raise the mood of his sister, without much success.

-          That’s the problem. Josh is very reserved and I have a lot of Hollywood baggage on my back.

Anastasia was a wild teenager back then. She became a party celebrity. She was the typical Beverly Hills brat who spent money she didn’t earn and partied every day. She didn’t grow up with her parents so her freedom was much wider. Anastasia and her mother, Grace Neil – a tall and blonde supermodel- never got along really well. She was the result of a wild an unprotected one night stand between her mother and her father while he was married to another amazingly beautiful supermodel, for that reason her mother despite her, because she didn’t wanted to have her. But her father, on the other hand, had always been kind and showed unconditional love to her.

Trouble between her and her mother had unleashed a dangerous mix of anorexia and bulimia when she was just 11 years old. A year later Anastasia was taking a plane to California to live with her sister Barbara, product of her father’s first marriage. Even though that situation didn’t let mental issues, Anastasia was a trouble child. But when she turned 18 she decided to go to college and leave that kind of lifestyle behind.

-          Who the fuck cares about what you did when you were 16? – Mark asked.

-          It’s still hunting me – Anastasia answered and leaving the room.

Read chapter 2

[lunzmoonliteteaparty]

**Mini Story Request** Butler Benjamin (Tyler) x Reader {Contains Smut} The bright full moon shines on a Halloween party going on at Timothy Manor. People dressed in all sorts of costumes, ranging from Spiderman to Deadpool and even fairies, talk amongst themselves and enjoying their company. It's not really formal attire more of dress how you'd like at this party. You stand by a table with Jack-o-lantern decorations glowing bright from the candles. People walk by you and compliment on your neon cat ears, makeup, and your glowing tail. Sipping on some rum and coke you scour the group of people. The owner Timothy comes dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. You were invited since working for his company. Out of the corner of your eye you notice a familiar face. The butler Benjamin holding a tray of drinks is wearing wolf ears and a tail. He looks incredibly sexy to you. As well as the history you guys have. Every time Timothy invited you for dinner or a meeting; Benjamin would take you to a secluded location and have his way with you. Every time left you feeling amazing and more alive than anything has. The wolf man butler walks over to you with a smile. "Good evening (Y/N). You look very adorable my little kitten." He remarks. His deep voice and seducing words make you blush a deep red. "O-oh thank you. It's nice to see you Ben. I like your wolf costume." You set down your empty cup on the table. Benjamin rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Ugh. Lord Timothy insisted I wear something like this. Actually all the staff are wearing something animal related," he then smirks at you. "But I just had to be the big alpha wolf. Don't you agree?" He touches your chin and it sends shivers through your body. Benjamin chuckles knowing what he did. "Here, you're empty." He hands you a glass of neon greenish blue liquid with a fog spewing out. "Thank you. It looks cool. What is it?" You take a sip curiously. Benjamin smiles as he takes the empty cup. "Sprite with lime vodka and a safe amount of dry ice for the fog effect." He explains. You smile and take another drink. "If you'd like Kitten, we could go to the wine cellar closet. I've been craving you for the longest time." The wolf man suggests. Hearing his request makes you blush more harder and heart beat a little faster. "S-sure. That sounds fun." "Great. Meet me down there in five minutes. No one will see you." He winks and goes over to more people offering them drinks. ~5 Minutes Pass~ You place your half empty drink on the table and make your way to the door. You carefully look around and see no one is paying attention. You quietly open the door and go down the stairs. You see huge shelves of all kinds of different wines. Opening the door to the closet you see it's a rather large closet with large barrels inside. A few minutes later as you wait, Benjamin comes through in the closet. Seeing him makes it hard to contain yourself. You quickly go over to him and kiss him hard and deeply. Benjamin kisses you back just as hard and runs his hands down your back and grips your ass cheeks. "Mmmmm.." Escapes from your lips. Benjamin does not hesitate to life you up onto one of the big barrels. He quickly removes your pants and underwear and smiles at the sight. "Mmmm Kitty you look simply delicious as ever." He moves in between your thighs and licks the seams of your lips. Instantly you get wet and blush more of a deep red. "So sweet my dear." He uses his fingers to spread your lips as he starts licking your opening, flicking your sensitive clit. "Ahh! Mmm Ben.." You moan hard feeling waves of pleasure through your body. Benjamin then sticks his thick tongue deep into you and moves it all around making it swirl and tongue fucks you hard. You can't help but grab the back of his head with your fingers through his hair. He steps back and smiles at you. "So sweet indeed. I can tell your aching for me. Are you ready (Y/N)?" He questions as he unbuckles his pants and slips out his thick and already stiff member. It is true you are aching for it. It's been way too long since last time he ravished you. You quickly nod and move your legs apart more for him. Smirking again he takes no time to waste. He pulls you closer to him and slides it deep inside. You grip his shoulders and gasp. "Mmmm fuck Kitty. You're tighter than usual. I love it." He grabs your hair pulling it back as he kisses you hard and starts thrusting hard into you. His deep tongue slides all around yours; tasting how sweet you are. You can't help but moan against his mouth, which only makes him move harder. "Mmmm fuck Kitty! Ooohh I love being inside you. You make me feel so good hon." He continues thrusting inside you. Ben grips your face and stares into your eyes as he continues his movements. You can't help but roll your eyes back with the intense pleasure. "That's my girl. Feel me make you feel good. I want all your pleasure (Y/N)." He growls like a wolf in your ear with his hot breath. The wolf man wraps your legs around his waist and picks you up with his masculine hands. He bounces you on his cock while holding you up in the air. It feels to go even deeper inside you. He smacks your ass leaving red marks on it. It makes you groan even more from the sting but you love it. "Ahhhh Ben...I'm ganna come soon!" You give a warning. Benjamin smiles as he starts picking up the pace. After a few more thrusts you lose it as you have one of the most intense orgasm. You bite into his neck as you feel the waves and try to keep from being too loud. Benjamin growls as he shoves himself all the way inside and cums as well. Overflowing your insides with his seed. "My mate...you are amazing." He kisses you deeply. You smile from him being in character. He gently pulls out and sits you on your feet. Benjamin quickly goes down and cleans you up throughly and dresses you. "There we are Kitty." He cleans himself and puts it away, buckling his belt. "You should wear the kitty ears more often." He chuckles at his remark. "Wait a few minutes before you leave." He kisses your forehead. "I want to take you out again. For dinner." He smiles at you. Your heart beats with glee. "Yes, I'd love that." You look up in his eyes when he cups your chin. "You're very special to me (Y/N). More than a fuck buddy. Remember that." He kisses you again and leaves the closet while grabbing another bottle of wine. As soon as your legs stop feeling like jelly you make your way back to the party. No one suspects what you two just did. But Benjamin gives you a smile and winks throughout the rest of the night. Requested by: Anonymous. Hope you enjoyed! Thought I'd add some Halloween themes to it :)