#this is occurrence one of a billion bed-sharing moments

[imagine-darksiders]

Do you remember that one short fic you did with Draven trying to court y/n and asking Death for permission? The fic ends with Draven fantasizing about y/n and jerking off. I was curious, what does Samael fantasize about y/n? Like, what are his more explicit interests about y/n that he only thinks about in the privacy of his room?

Ah, why not. I have to admit Samael is growing on me so here's a little drabble I dashed out this afternoon.

Nsfw, suggestive content under the cut. Short. CW for Samael's imagination.

There are moments, in Samael's unending existence, that seem to be coming more and more frequently of late, moments that he's been growing less inclined to ignore as the days and weeks go by without a solution to a problem he never would have thought he'd be facing, not in ten thousand millennia...

The problem in question shares the name of a particular little human. Just one. Just one in eight billion that, by pure chance, happened to turn the head of a Prince of Hell.

It should be humiliating. It should be mortifying.

A demon of his stature, his power and age and wisdom, so preoccupied by a member of the Third Kingdom. Nothing but chance had made your path cross with his.

You were with that Horseman, Death, when Samael first laid eyes on you. He learned your name. He learned how you came to be the Nephilim's little companion in the quest to save your species. It had amused him, at the time, to imagine how furious Lilith would be when she discovered you were passively turning the Horseman's mind away from thoughts of resurrecting her beloved Nephilim. You likely didn't even realise the sway you held – and still hold – over the Council's terrible enforcers. You're powerful, and you have no idea, nor any apparent desire to exert that power. Samael has never been one to fixate on an individual, but over and over again, he started to find his head wandering back to thoughts of you – the valiant, little human who stumbled clumsily across the universe in Death's shadow and, against all odds, came out the other side in one piece.

A happy ending...

And then... Well, to put an Earth spin on it, everything had promptly snow-balled from there.

Nights like tonight are a regular occurrence. Blissfully alone, the demon prince, lounges with his forearms propped against satin pillows in his private chambers as one of his colossal, clawed hands delves beneath the sheets to seek out that private part of himself that only the very lucky few have ever laid eyes upon.

Sadly, in Samael's opinion, you have yet to become one of those lucky few.

He can nearly see you now, as vivid as a painting in his mind's eye, laying prone and tiny at the centre of his bed in a dress so white that he could swear you shine against the rich, scarlet sheets.

Oh, if you only knew how well a demon like Samael could take care of you. You would want for nothing. He'd give you riches beyond anything another human could dream of. Diamonds, pearls, emeralds, whatever your little heart desires.

Sometimes, in the privacy of his own thoughts, the demon prince finds himself wondering what a little gentleness might be like. Despite appearances, he's not a masochist – not like she is.

What if, instead of raking claws and needle-like teeth marring his scaly flesh, you instead introduce him to soft fingertips that could stroke soothing lines down the column of his throat as he presses his muzzle into your hair?

He'd swallow against the palm of your hand and feel it rise and fall in an undulating wave, perhaps even catch a shudder from you when you register the raw power that lies behind even that small, insignificant action. Would you be afraid? Maybe, in the beginning. But Samael would forgive you a little trepidation. After all, how could you have any idea the lengths he'd go to prove that he isn't a clumsy, callous brute incapable of controlling himself during that most primal of indulgences? He wants you to trust him. He wouldn't do a thing if you asked him not to. Humans have words they use, don't they? Words that shut down a situation if things are getting a bit too... much behind closed doors? Words of safety...

Samael would go to great lengths to ensure you never even come close to uttering your preferred words. He'd stop, over and over again, and each time, a little piece of your trepidation would chip away until any last, lingering seeds of doubt are utterly purged from your mind.

Samael knows you'd be so gentle with him too, even without trying to be. He's too large, and you're far too small and fragile to wound him when your hands scrabble for purchase on his twisting horns as he dips his colossal face into the sacred space between your legs. Humans are meticulous beasts in habit, and it would be a delectable change to nudge his nose in close and inhale the scent of a clean, tender area that not even your precious Horsemen have been privy to.

Once, he'd been lucky enough to arrive outside your bedroom where his senses were promptly soothed by the hot, rolling waves of steam that wafted out through the open window and into his flaring nostrils. Enraptured, he'd watched on in silence as you emerged like a vision from that tiny room you use for bathing, wearing little else but a fluffy, red towel that hangs scandalously low on your chest, and rises in a daring tease to a spot just above the centre of your thighs.

The steam followed after you, drifting across the bedroom and out to the demon waiting just beyond the foggy glass. He caught the scent of fruit, something Earthen in origin, unknown to his palette but recognisably delicious all the same.

It wasn't long before his rough, pointed tongue slipped out and lapped at the warm sweat gathering above his lip. He might've imagined that's what your skin would taste of, if you'd ever let him near enough to savour a lick.

In the lonely silence of his own bedchambers, those tantalising memories of your soaps and shampoos on the air are the closest thing he has to a reference. He calls upon them unashamedly as he squeezes his eyes shut, sinks his fangs into his bottom lip and grunts, his tongue undulating against the back of his teeth in the same, coaxing licks he plans on using someday to ease your trembling legs apart.

The demon's chest rumbles soothingly to the empty air, a sound borne of instinct to comfort a lover who isn't there...

[fantastic-bby]

Pairing: Reader x Yunho

Word count: 896

Genre: Fluff | Slice of life | Non-idol AU

Your casual relationship with Yunho is more comfortable than you thought

Warnings: Implied sex | Implied alcohol | Mentions of pegging

Masterlist

[3:09]

“Are you serious?” you laugh when you sit up. 

“What?” Yunho glances at you with the corners of his lips lifted slightly.  His attention is quickly brought back to his PC when he hears the game loading up. 

“Is this what you do with all of your fuck buddies?” you joke as you slip your hoodie over your head. 

“Nah,” he hums, “you’re the only one I’m comfortable enough to actually keep in my room overnight.” 

“Aww, how sweet,” you say teasingly, climbing out of bed and dragging yourself over to Yunho’s desk where you stand behind his chair as your arms sling around his neck. 

You’ve known each other for a few months. Your friend circles kinda overlap with the help of Wooyung—who has almost a billion more circles than you and Yunho combined—and you were only ‘just friends’ until one fateful night on a trip with your friends where you were both forced to share a bedroom after Wooyoung had passed out drunk in the living room while the only other two bedrooms that were open had been a little too occupied by your friends for either of you to want to be in. 

Despite the option of the living room floor being open, Yunho felt bad and tried to get you to switch. 

Which only made you feel bad, so somehow the option of sharing the same bed seemed to be the best one.

And when you’re both so close to each other, one thing led to another, which then led to you two fucking until the sun rose. 

It’s become a regular occurrence for either of you to be in each others’ apartments, but tonight, you find yourself watching as Yunho starts up his game right after trying to rearrange your insides. 

“Hm, if you’re hungry, I have some leftovers from dinner,” Yunho says as he raises his head to look you in the eyes. 

“Oh?” 

He nods and turns his head back down to face his monitor just as the match starts. 

“It’s just—uhm—chicken fried rice. I was too lazy to actually make anything else.” His voice slowly turns into a mutter the more he focuses. “Felt like I was wasting money on food, so I learned how to cook.” 

“Did you?” You let out an exaggerated gasp and lean back, smiling slightly in surprise. “And I thought Jeong Yunho refused to learn how to cook because daddy’s always putting money in your account.” 

“Yeah, then I realised that I liked the idea of being a male wife,” Yunho snorts. 

“I never pegged you as the domestic kind,” you comment as you make your way to the fridge of his little studio apartment. 

“Uhh, you have pegged me, in fact, but yeah. Neither did I,” he laughs. You laugh as well, opening the door and pulling out the first container that looks like there’s rice inside. 

“I’ll heat some up for you, too.” 

Yunho hums back an ‘okay’, but doesn’t fully turn to look at you. 

Silence fills the air, aside from the clicking from his mouse and keyboard and the sound of the game flowing out of his headphones that he’s moved to hang around his neck. 

There’s always been this unspoken comfort that the two of you share when you’re alone and neither you nor Yunho usually think about it. It’s familiar and it’s comfortable; vulnerable. Almost as if the both of you share the same understanding that this is a space that you need. 

So, you continue your synchronised movement as Yunho continues on with the match and you microwave his leftovers until you’re sitting at his tiny, squared, dining table and he finally stands with his headphones hanging off of the side of his black desk. 

He joins you almost wordlessly, the two of you eating ‘supper’ in silence while you scroll through Instagram and Yunho watches some videos on his phone. 

Only in this moment do you realise just how comfortable you are. Admittedly, you had stopped sleeping with other people after a few months of the ‘agreement’ that you had come to with Yunho, and it seems that—despite joking about his other buddies—he has, too. 

And you’d be lying if you said Yunho also exists as a reminder all over. The park hold ghosts of you and him running away from the swans, cafes; wisps of him handing you his black card to pay for whatever you wanted—you’ve been spending a lot of time together recently. 

Maybe your heart holds something else for him, you wonder for a moment. 

But you ignore the thought and return to your phone screen, scooping another spoonful of rice into your mouth as you find another reel that keeps you preoccupied. 

“Hey.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna try dating?”

Movements halted, your eyes flit to meet Yunho’s and he’s staring at you with nothing but pure curiosity in his eyes. 

And… is that… adoration?

Admiration?

You feel shock running through your veins, but it’s not a bad feeling. Instead, you’re filled with a sense of warmth. 

And what you think you’ve completely missed is the fact that the conversation won’t make anything change because you and Yunho are already in this place. 

So, instead of any kind of uncertainty or fear, you feel like it’s… only natural. 

And you nod, “okay.”

Before you return to your own devices as usual. 

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

The journey to Solitude had not been so bad, long sure, but Zane was able to catch a cart ride and sleep most of the trip.

On the way back, trailed by Penitus Oculatis agents? That was too risky, it was best to travel on foot and stick to the shadows.

But at least this time he wasn't alone. Veezara had been an unexpected but welcome plus one to the wedding, and Zane was sure he owed the shadowscale his life several times over from today alone.

The two had traveled through Dragon Bridge without stopping, but by the time Rorikstead was reached? Night had fallen, Zane was tired, and he had a feeling as much as he didn't show it Veezara would feel about the same.

"We should stop at the inn." He suggested, "I don't know about you, but I'd die to sleep in a room with a bed right now."

Veezara nodded thoughtfully, "It would be a good idea to stop and rest, we wouldn't want to get caught off guard by the Oculatis while sleep deprived."

Of course, after the two had paid to rent a room at the 'Frostfruit Inn', and entered said room, Zane realized they both completely forgot to specify how many beds they needed.

He wasn't bothered much, simply gathering some of the extra pillows and blankets and beginning to make himself a spot to rest on the floor.

"You should take the bed, I am fine with the floor-Zane. I am not letting you sleep on the floor after you had to leap off a balcony, you did not exactly stick the landing." Wow. Unnecessary. Had falling on his face during his escape been Zane's finest moment? No. But nobody had to remember it. Except Veezara apparently.

"It barely hurt. I've had worse sleeping arrangements after worse injuries, besides, you were shot." Zane argued.

"Which, thanks to your talent with the healing hands spell, was a non issue. Besides, you just said you were dying for a mattress to sleep on." Veezara stated. "You should take the bed."

"I'm not going to, you can go ahead and set up to sleep down here, and I'll be right on the floor with you." Zane said stubbornly, sitting on his little sleeping area.

"Well then, I suppose we'll both sleep on the floor." Veezara, apparently equally stubborn, finished his own sleeping arrangements, and grabbed his sleep clothes out of his bag.

Zane did the same, and after they were both changed, and Veezara had settled down to sleep-

"What are you doing?" Veezara watched Zane move his little floor bed area over next to him, before laying down and lazily but affectionately wrapping an arm around him.

"We're sleeping on the floor." Zane said, as if it were the most obvious thing that of course them sleeping on the floor would result in cuddles.

Veezara chuckled, "If we're sleeping on the floor like this we may as well share the bed."

"Are you implying you don't want to cuddle me on the floor?" Zane asked with a very good imitation of offense, "After all we've been through together? Veezara I am wounded, absolutely betrayed!"

That earned another laugh, and Veezara rolled over to face him, pulling Zane closer and interlocking their legs, resting his tail on Zane's shin. "Floor cuddles it is then."

Zane hadn't been expecting that. He also hasn't previously realized just how much taller Veezara actually was. Although he was rarely the shortest in the room in Skyrim, back home in the Marsh it was a common occurrence, so he didn't tend to notice when he had to look up to meet another Argonian's eye, it was normal to him.

It was made blatantly obvious like this, Veezara's head just over his, curled up around Zane, encasing him entirely in his presence.

They were so close Zane could see the individual gorgeous scales that graced his skin. He stayed awake long after Veezara was asleep, relishing his time in this embrace, his time to memorize the details of this man he'd fallen for so easily, and was now closer to than he ever thought he'd get.

Normally Zane's nights were filled with laying awake, plagued by fears and guilt and a billion other things. Even if it weren't for his brief stint with the companions, he doubted rest would find him.

But currently, all that came to mind was the person holding him. The strong, secure embrace and how naturally he had initiated it.

And Zane fell asleep peacefully, for the first time in years, not worried about or afraid of a thing.

Veezara woke up to sunlight filtering through the window, and Zane if possible even closer than he had been when Veezara had fallen asleep. It was... Endearing to see him like this, looking peaceful and small in his arms, morning sun reflecting off his scales. It was hard to justify moving away from this.

But he had to get up eventually. He went to move and felt Zane's hold on him tighten, and heard a quiet, half asleep, "Don't go."

He was going to argue they both should get up so they can start moving again, but Zane nuzzled his face into his shoulder, and the argument died before it reached his tongue.

"... Okay." It wasn't hard to resign himself to holding the other like this. He had noticed from very early on that Zane never seemed fully relaxed. There was always something on his mind, some trouble or anxiety that haunted him constantly. Veezara couldn't imagine what had chased him out of the marsh, or what trouble he had found here, that made him never feel fully safe.

To see him like this? Without worry, no tension in his shoulders, entirely relaxed and cozy and *safe*, because he was with Veezara?

Falkreath could wait. They had some time before the others began to worry.

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [6/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: the nominee list comes out, mantis has some romantic ideas in mind, and peter and gamora continue to learn about each other.

word count: 3572 | total word count: 118k

a/n: i’ve never been to new york, so i hope there aren’t any glaring inaccuracies over the next couple chapters that they’re there!

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

Thankfully, the rest of the week had gone by quickly - no life-threatening events or earth-shattering catastrophes, just a build-up of school commitments that had left all the students physically and emotionally exhausted. Even Elektra seemed tired after her practical weaponry exam at the Blasting Range, and likewise with the usually composed T’challa, who nearly had an incident during his explosives lab with Professor Pym.

Peter barely had a moment alone with Gamora, but eventually did find the time to tell her of Mantis’s plan. She agreed to the trip, though she had other concerns on her mind - she had apparently spent Wednesday evening with Adam at Club Galaxy, where he had helped her fix her equipment, which had made Natasha suspicious.

“Adam laughed it off, told her that you and I were happily together,” Gamora had said. “It’s ridiculous - am I not allowed to spend time with other people?”

Peter had sighed in response. “She’s a spy, she’s suspicious of everybody. If anything, she might eventually sniff us out.”

On Friday afternoon, the teachers took pity on the students and let them out early, allowing Janet to make her announcement in the quad. “Hello, Avengers Academy,” she hollered, her tone and words not unlike Gamora’s opening lines when she played at Club Galaxy. “Just letting you all know that I have posted the nominees for the yearbook superlatives contest on my blog and the school website! There's also a copy here at the bulletin board and a few posted up around campus. Remember that voting starts in two weeks, you have one month to submit your vote, and then one month after that, the yearbook will be published!”

Everyone began pulling out their phones and tablets, scrolling and letting out exclamations of joy, surprise, and occasionally, disgust. Gamora stared down at “Cutest Couple - Peter Quill/Gamora”, the words still looking rather foreign to her.

“Babe, we should go pack,” Peter said, gently wrapping his hand around her elbow to get her attention. “We finally have the chance to be tourists in New York!”

“You two heading somewhere?” Janet had somehow popped up by their side despite being on the other side of the quad thirty seconds ago.

“We got permission for an off-campus weekend trip,” Gamora said, leaning into Peter slightly, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands. “We need to stock up on supplies for the Milano anyways, and it will certainly be more relaxing than last weekend.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Janet gushed, clapping her hands together. “Send me pictures? I’d love to get some cute couples selfies for a little collage I want to put together for the yearbook.”

“We can do that,” Peter replied, sliding his arm around Gamora’s shoulder. He turned to kiss the side of her head, a light pressure that she wasn't used to. His stubble was itchy, even through her hair. Janet let out another ‘aww’ before letting them go. Turning back to Gamora, he began to list things off his fingers, though his other arm remained around her as if he’d forgotten it was there. “So we've got a shopping list, an itinerary from Mantis, hotel booking thanks to Pepper, and one of a million of Tony’s cars.”

“And apparently you still need to pack,” Gamora said dryly. “I finished yesterday.”

“Aw, crap.”

______

It turned out, packing took a while. Saying goodbye to the Guardians took even longer. Peter put Drax in charge which made Rocket angry, Gamora lectured Nebula and Yondu about playing nice, and Groot, predictably, pouted and asked them to take him along (or at least, that's what Mantis had interpreted. Rocket snarkily told them he was tears of joy that they were finally leaving).

Eventually, they drove off, both in sweatpants for once instead of their uniforms or training duds. Gamora, in particular, had her hood up, feeling self-conscious about her skin in a way she never had before. As expected, Peter found an oldies radio five minutes after they were on the highway and got excited at a Jackson 5 song he'd never heard. After about ten minutes of attempting to sing along to songs he didn’t know the words to, he eventually gave up and allowed Gamora to switch to the traffic report.

“We should finish that game of 20 Questions tonight at the hotel,” Peter said. “I think we maybe only got through six each.”

“Why only at night? Why not now?” Gamora asked, peeling her eyes away from the skyline. She never realized how isolated the school was until they were here, in the actual city.

“People tend to be more honest at weird hours. Plus it makes it more fun,” he replied, his eyes flickering over to her for a moment. “Besides, I wanted to ask you something now, but I don’t want it to be part of the game.”

“Go ahead.” Gamora steeled herself for the inevitable - a question about Adam, most likely. Peter had been oddly calm about Natasha’s accusation and the fact Gamora had been with him in the first place. He had pried so much during that night in the medbay, almost like he was instructing her to date Adam, was he really gonna let that go?

“That outfit you wore to the funeral, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those clothes before. They yours?”

Oh. That was unexpected, though pleasantly so. It was an easy question to answer.  “The top and skirt are Janet’s, the cape is mine. Why?”

“It wasn't what I thought - honestly, I assumed you were going to wear your usual, since it's all black anyways,” Peter admitted. “You looked really nice. I mean, not that you don’t usually look nice, I’ve just gotten so used to your normal clothes that - ”

“Quill,” she interrupted. “I understand. Thank you.” He nodded, looking abashedly grateful she had stopped his word vomit. “So, we get to the hotel at six, and then what are we doing for dinner?”

“I was just gonna order pizza, to be honest. I figured you wouldn’t really want to eat in public for this trip?” he guessed.

Gamora looked down at herself for a moment. Sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, gloves, sunglasses, a baseball cap. She had regular clothes for their impending “dates” in public spaces, but Peter had cautioned her against dressing the same way for when they were just walking around or going into stores.

“People get...weird about different skin colours,” Peter had told her. “In places like the art galleries and museums, we have special Academy passes, so people’ll know we’re from the Guardians, but I just think it’d be safer to cover up if we’re just out and about.”

She couldn’t really fathom what he spoke about - many planets far beyond Terra, though they had their issues, took little notice when it came to physical appearance, only putting stock into strength, knowledge, wit, and possessions. “I don’t really think being out in public in general is a great idea,” she said carefully, “but if it helps boost our reputation as helpful, reliable members of Terran society, I will do it. Having pizza in our hotel room does sound more enjoyable, though.”

Peter hummed in agreement, and they fell silent for a moment as they listened to the traffic report, helpfully informing them that were a couple car accidents that were thankfully nowhere near their route. “By the way, I feel like I should warn you - obviously, since I didn’t book the room, we have one king size bed, not two doubles like I was thinking of.”

“WHAT?!” Gamora exclaimed loudly, causing Peter to jump and almost hit the horn in the process. “Could you not have told Pepper that we aren’t at the bed-sharing stage yet?”

He looked guilty. “I was talking to Pepper about getting reservations, Stark was there, so he asked about how we were doing. I may have told them the story we came up with about how we started dating, and I may have exaggerated and added on a bit about how we fell asleep in my room together that night because wow, emotional talk, and I am really glad I’m driving right now and you can’t hold a knife to my throat - gah!” Gamora had prodded him in the side with a sharp fingernail instead.

“You are unbelievable,” Gamora hissed. “You couldn’t have told me this before?”

“Would you believe me if I said it slipped my mind?” Peter said, chuckling nervously. “It’s just three nights, Gamora. Besides, it’d look kinda weird to people if they found out we had separate beds.”

“We could have made a believable story about why we did if you had told me,” Gamora grumbled, reluctant to admit he was kind of right. Peter was definitely more right than she wanted him to be sometimes.

The rest of the drive was somewhat tense, though Peter managed to joke his way back into Gamora’s good graces as he usually did. They arrived on schedule, in which Peter checked in, batting eyelashes at the middle-aged receptionist while he asked about their complimentary breakfast, Gamora hovering behind him with their bags, her hood and sunglasses still firmly on her head.

“Is your girlfriend alright, Mister Quill?” the receptionist asked kindly, glancing over Peter’s shoulder. “She looks...nervous.”

“We’re from the Guardians of the Galaxy, ma’am,” Peter said confidently, and Gamora could practically see him puffing his chest out a little as part of his declaration. “She’s just a bit worried about being stared at or attacked in public.”

The receptionist nodded, satisfied with his answer, and handed him two sets of room keys and their receipt, along with a map of the city. “Enjoy your stay!”

“We will, thank you,” Peter said cheerily, pointing Gamora in the direction of the elevators.

Their room was relatively nice, as Pepper had managed to talk Fury into letting her book them one of the fanciest Best Westerns in the city (“Don’t waste our budget on extraneous nonsense, Potts!”). There was a full kitchen, a leather couch and a flatscreen TV, and yes, one king-sized bed with an excessive amount of pillows and a towel folded to resemble a zoo animal (today was an elephant).

Gamora wandered out onto the balcony, finally pushing her hood down and removing her hat and sunglasses. She let her hair out of its ponytail and allowed the breeze to rustle through her hair. Although the air wasn’t particularly pleasant, it was better than the muggy air of the highway. “We should take a picture for Janet right here,” she decided.

Peter joined her on the balcony, fussing over his hair for a moment until Gamora slapped his wrist, telling him he looked fine. “So I’m not terrible-looking?” he joked, and she rolled her eyes in response. He wasn’t going to let that go, was he?

They awkwardly rotated in one spot for a few moments to find the best angle to avoid sunlight, before Gamora held up her phone, arm outstretched as far as possible (Peter was too tall in comparison when she was going barefoot). They took a few different ones, trying to be as close as possible without literally being back-to-chest.

“We have arrived at our hotel room. Quill already wants pizza,” Gamora texted to her girls’ group chat. “I smell like car exhaust.”

Peter chuckled as he read her message over her shoulder, moving back into the room to strip off his jacket and shoes. “This’ll be fun,” he called to her. “Like a team-building exercise without the rest of our team here. You’re practically the co-leader of the Guardians with me, so maybe we’ll be better at the job afterwards.”

“We still have so much time left to keep up this ruse,” Gamora said as a series of “OMG CUTE” messages flooded in from Janet and Kamala. “I would hope we’re better teammates after this.” She turned, only to realize Peter was also changing into a more relaxed T-shirt, unlike the training undershirt he had on before. Her eyes flickered briefly over his abs (how the hell was he so well-defined, he avoided the gym at all costs) before turning away again. “Pizza?”

______

“So what did you have planned for ‘em, bug-girl?” Yondu was in his usual spot on the couch, dirty boots on the coffee table, chewing thoughtfully on a toothpick. It was the first night without their leaders, and despite them all putting on a brave face, it was weird without Peter’s humour and background music, and Gamora’s brisk efficiency and deadpan nature.

“I searched up ‘romantic date ideas in New York City’ and have picked some of my favourites that I think Peter and Gamora will like,” Mantis said. Groot was sitting on her forearm, attempting to scroll through her list. “After getting supplies tomorrow morning, they will go for a walk through Central Park tomorrow afternoon, a musical in the evening, and then the museum and a light show on Sunday.”

“Sounds like a bunch of cliches t’me,” Rocket said, setting aside one of his blaster guns to grab the tablet out of Mantis’s hands. “You really think Gamora’s gonna go for this kinda stuff?”

“The museum they are going to has a large exhibit on weaponry and armour that I have directed them to,” Mantis said, snatching it back so she could open up pictures on The Met’s website. “And the musical I chose is based on a movie that was recommended to Peter, and he quite enjoyed. It will be a good mix for them both.”

“Is this a movie that Quill and Gamora have watched together? What is it about?” Drax approached her, curious.

“It is about love,” Mantis said, her eyes growing even wider in excitement. “I am not sure if they have watched it together, though. But I think it will be a good first step in getting them to think of each other in a romantic way!”

“Ugh,” Nebula groaned from the corner. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but things might have actually been better when Gamora was around. At least they wouldn’t talk about this stuff so loudly if she were near.

______

Peter tossed the last of his crust into the greasy box with a groan. He couldn’t possibly eat any more. He and Gamora were seated on the floor of the living space with their backs against the couch, the pizza box on the coffee table, their shoulders pressed together, both already changed into their sleep clothes. It had been a relatively short drive, but they were already physically drained from being cramped in the car, unused to traveling in a vehicle that wouldn’t allow them to walk around freely.

“I think I’m only awake enough for two questions of twenty tonight,” Gamora admitted, taking a swig of water.

“Are you awake enough for a movie? I was gonna show you Groundhog Day, since we’re watching the musical tomorrow,” Peter said, holding up the flash drive Stark had loaned to him.

“Movie first, two questions, then sleep,” Gamora decided. When Peter didn’t immediately react, she turned to look at him, and that odd smile of his was back again. “What?”

“I like this better than us fighting all the time,” Peter grinned. “You actually want to spend time with me.”

She turned away for a moment, shy. “Well, I have decided that you’re my best friend, too.”

“That’s awesome,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his grin deepened. “I’m uh, glad you feel that way.”

She nodded, smiling tentatively back. “Just start the movie, Quill, before I fall asleep on you.”

______

Two hours later, Gamora managed to drag herself to her feet and clean up their garbage, then collapse onto the bed where Peter was already lying face down. She poked him to double check he hadn’t suffocated in the mountain of pillows.

“Argh - oh hey.” He had shot up like a rocket and nearly hit her in the face on the way. “Two questions, then bed. But first, lights off.”

Gamora watched him carefully as he sluggishly moved around the room to turn everything off, the only light source being the city life twinkling through the window. It felt intimate at first - though her body modifications gave her quite good night vision, there was something about the surrounding darkness that made everything feel more...significant. “I want to ask a question similar to your last,” she decided. “Are you happy being the leader of the Guardians? And I don’t just mean for our team specifically, but also just...being a leader in general. Does it feel like something you’ve always wanted to do?”

He settled back down on the bed, and though there was a relatively decent amount of space between them - and they had stood much closer before - the feeling of lying down next to someone, falling asleep next to someone, and trusting nothing would happen in the night, was a foreign feeling to Gamora. It felt like an eternity ago that she was living in Sanctuary with the other children of Thanos, afraid to fall asleep at the risk of being murdered the moment her eyes fell shut. She and Nebula especially seemed prone to targeting from the others, being the most outwardly strong and beloved (if you could call it that) by Thanos.

“Not something I ever thought I would do,” Peter said, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling. “But my mom, she was always scolding me for picking fights with people who hurt the little guys. So maybe being a leader came from that? Wanting to be the first to help people? And, y’know, in the context of the Guardians, I'd say I’m team leader because the rest of you are terrible with people.”

“I'm getting better,” Gamora protested. He reached over to pat her hand.

“You totally are,” he agreed. “Especially since you're like Groot’s mom or something - it's good practice.”

“We’re practically raising him together,” Gamora said. “He calls us his parents.” For some reason, Peter found himself thinking of he, Gamora, and Groot in some odd version of the American Gothic painting. But instead of Peter holding the pitchfork, Gamora would be holding her Godslayer (Groot would be sitting on the handle).

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

She hummed softly. “I don't think I ever saw life that way, even before Thanos,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn't grow up wealthy, so I didn't think I had a lot of prospects on my homeworld. I probably assumed I would own a shop or be a teacher at most.”

“Never had dreams for anything bigger?”

“There was no bigger to begin with,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “Being a Guardian - it’s a whole new dream altogether.” They had somehow shifted closer between questions, their arms and hands grazing each other casually. She could see freckles forming on Peter’s nose, a result of exposure to the sun. Peter had been bragging to a few girls a couple months ago that he liked spending summers working on the Milano with his shirt off. At the time, she had rolled her eyes as the other girls giggled and said they'd like to watch. Now, she was vaguely curious if he was going to follow through. “You must've had some interesting dreams as a child, then.”

“Same question again, huh? I was a typical kid - cop, astronaut, pirate. I guess in a way I'm kind of a combination of all of them. I mean, Ravagers are straight up space pirates. And the Guardians of the Galaxy is just a super fancy name for space cops.”

“I suppose it is,” she said. Her voice was near a whisper now, as sirens and car alarms sounded outside, flooding the otherwise dull hum of the AC working its way through their room. “Your turn.”

He stared at her consideringly, contemplating his next question. Even in the darkness, his grey-green eyes were still bright with the sort of frenetic energy people had come to expect of Peter. “If you had to change one thing about me, what would it be?”

She supposed he thought it would be difficult, yet funnily enough, she found it one of the easiest to answer. “Your discipline,” she replied. “You are good at focusing on things - sometimes to the point of fixation - but you still let other things distract you from the goal. It's something to work on, I think.”

“Interesting,” Peter said softly. “I thought you were gonna say something about how annoying I am.”

Gamora huffed. “You are annoying, but it doesn't mean I'd change that about you. Who else managed to confuse Ronan and the Chitauri and Ayesha and - ”

“Alright, I got the point.” He reached over to squeeze her hand again, and Gamora really shouldn't be getting used to the feeling of Peter’s hand in hers. “Hey, I’m glad you like doing this with me. I know you aren't the most talkative person in the world, but I like that we're getting to know each other like this.”

She smiled, squeezing back. “I'm enjoying it, too. Just don't tell anyone. Or - ” She was interrupted by Peter’s gentle laugh, as he pulled his hand away to bury his face in a pillow. It was an endearing sight. “I really should stop saying that,” she admitted with a chuckle of her own. “Goodnight, Quill.”

a/n: i’m a sucker for bed-sharing. also, it’s really hard to headcanon anything about gamora’s childhood when literally the only thing known about zen-whoberi is that it’s “moderately advanced” ;_;

[isthisthingeven0n]

yellow : s.r

after a mission that targets couples, spencer realises how much you truly mean to him back home (4.1k oops) 

shameless plug but i have an etsy shop (10% off on tote bags until 2nd december!) 

criminal minds masterlist 

(also the case idea is just something i came up with! please do not steal my ideas/work or repost elsewhere without permission. thank you!) 

Warmth. That was the first thing you noticed when you woke up. Warmth radiating from the sunlight filtering through your blinds, warmth from your boyfriend who you were curled up against and warmth from your cheeks as the events of last night replay in your mind.

Yet, as always, those are short lived once your alarm clock sounds.

Spencer stirs upon hearing the repetitive beeping. His arm tightens around your waist as you move away to press snooze and his breath fans across your neck as he chuckles.

“Good morning,” He whispers, shuffling to kiss your jaw sweetly until you turn to face him. “every morning I’m amazed at how beautiful you look.” Spencer admits candidly.

“That’s because I haven’t opened my mouth yet and you can’t smell my morning breath.” You mutter, unable to take him seriously as his curls point in every direction and sleep laces his tone. “You’re something else, you know that, Spence?” You chuckle, lifting an arm up as you brush your hand across his face.

Humming in response, Spencer begins to open his eyes. “You know, around 50% of adults in America suffer from morning breath, the ADA has researched it’s caused by bacteria in your mouth building from food particles between your teeth, gum line and tongue.” He explains, watching as you roll your eyes. “And yes, I do know I’m something else, you tell me most days, except yesterday.” A smile lines Spencer’s lips as he pictures the exact moment. “Yesterday you called me a fucking God.” He chuckles as you groan, lifting your hands to cover your face.

“Please, just forget that.” You tell him through your hands whilst Spencer shuffles as his body rests above yours.

“Y/n, open your eyes.” He whispers, and as you move your hands Spencer leans down, kissing you softly. Pulling away, he sighs happily. “I love you, but I need to brush my teeth.” He announces and rises from bed, heading to the bathroom as your laughter lines the corridor.

The sound of your phone buzzing interrupts your thoughts as you reach over and unlock it. For a moment you allow your eyes to adjust to the brightness glaring into your retinas.

“Spence?” You call out as you force yourself from the cocoon of your bed as you shove your feet into your slippers.

As you exit your bedroom, you meet Spencer halfway to the bathroom as he looks at you with wide eyes whilst a toothbrush hangs out of his mouth, toothpaste marking the corners of his lips.

“Penelope texted me, she assumed your phone was downstairs,” Which was true, and Penelope knew Spencer well enough to know such. “you’ve got a case.” You tell him with a heavy heart as Spencer’s face falls and nods.

Retreating back to the bathroom, Spencer spits the toothpaste out as he looks at his reflection. He knew this was his job, and you both knew the hours weren’t the typical nine to five. But for once, Spencer wanted to be selfish and stay with you for the weekend that he promised you.

“Hey,” You speak up as you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist as you rest your head on his back. “it’s okay, you can make it up to me another time.” You reassure him as you rise to your tiptoes, kissing his bare shoulder. “I’ll go make you a coffee.” You add as your arms slink from Spencer’s waist as he finishes brushing his teeth and turns the shower on.

“Or, you could join me?” Spencer pipes up, a mischievous smile lacing his lips as you pause before turning on your heels.

“Spencer Reid, are you suggesting I accompany you in the shower?” You feign shock, resting your hand on your chest as your lips part whilst Spencer’s tongue glides over his lips for a moment, that rare glint crossing his gaze.

“I’m suggesting we save water, last year alone over 2.5 billion people were living in areas of drought, and that’s not including-” Cutting Spencer off, you remove your dressing gown and slippers.

“Alright, I give in.” You wave him off. “It’s too early to listen to your statistics.”

*

“Morning, sorry to call you all in during the weekend.” Hotch starts as everyone takes a seat around the table, Spencer trying his best to suppress his yawn as he drinks the coffee you made him just before he forgot it as he left. “Garcia?”

“Right yes,” Penelope gathers herself as everyone opens their tablets whilst Spencer flicks through the physical case file. “over the last two months, there have been three murders of married couples,” Penelope begins to explain as she displays images of the three couples. “our first couple were newlyweds, married for two weeks before they were kidnapped and tortured before dying from lacerations to their throats which I will not be looking at on the screen.”

“Same MO for all three couples?” JJ asks, and Penelope sighs as she nods in response.

“That is correct, our latest couple were discovered placed back in their bedroom this morning when their daughter arrived home from a sleepover to discover her parents,” Penelope trails off as Hotch rises to his feet.

“Wheels up in 15, we’re going to Phoenix.” Hotch states as he walks out of the room, slowly followed by everyone else.

“Take it your romantic plans aren’t happening, kid?” Rossi speaks up as Spencer follows him out from the conference room.

Spencer shakes his head. “We’re going to try again next weekend if we can,” A sigh leaves Spencer’s lips as he grabs his go back, throwing it over his shoulder. “but she’s just, so understanding.” He admits, and Rossi whistles.

“Says more than my ex-wives.” Rossi comments.

“How is my sweet Y/n?” Penelope asks as she follows the team toward the elevator, JJ chuckling with Tara.

“She is just fine, Penelope. But she does miss you, don’t worry.” Spencer tells Penelope who beams happily as he makes it into the elevator.

“Well, I’ll make sure she’s safe whilst your gone, goodbye my crimefighters!” Penelope waves as the metal doors close on everyone, and that familiar silence falls over all of them as they begin to pick apart the case.

*

Arriving in Phoenix, Hotch splits the team up and Spencer is paired with JJ to go to the morgue.

“Based on victimology, our unsub targets the wives first, looking at our first victim, Charlotte Yestley, the bruising on her wrists and ankles is much darker than her husbands.” Spencer explains as the ME returns with the reports.

JJ hums as she leans closer. “But overall the damage on Charlotte is cleaner than on Michael. The laceration on Charlotte’s neck was done in one motion, whereas Michael has multiple lacerations and stab wounds covering his torso.”

“Cause of death for both was the loss of blood from the laceration to the neck.” The ME states. “Charlotte Yestley died within minutes whereas Michael would’ve bled out for at least an hour.”

“So he’s torturing the husbands, could be symbolic? Maybe our unsub was married, lost his wife and is looking at couples who have what he no longer does?” JJ suggests.

“I’m not sure, I’ll call Garcia and see if she can find anything out about the Yestley’s.” Spencer exits the room as he calls Garcia, leaving JJ to discuss with the ME the toxicology report.

“Go for Garcia,” Penelope answers the phone.

“Garcia can you look into the Yestley’s personal life, considering they were newlyweds there must be something online about them.” Spencer asks as Penelope types away.

“I’ve got hundreds of photos appearing across social media platforms from the past five years of them both. It seems they met in college and then split up after they graduated, got engaged two years ago and were married at the Hillsong Church. Intimate celebration, close family, two bridesmaids and a best man.” Penelope reels off, and Spencer nods to himself.

“I’ll call Hotch, see if we can talk to the bridesmaids and best man,” Spencer tells Garcia. “thanks, Penelope.”  

After investigating further, the team had conducted it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows between the Yestley’s. In fact, days before the wedding it was nearly called off by Charlotte as she caught her fiance with another woman.

“What if that’s it?” Rossi speaks up as the team sit in the room the local PD helped them set up. “Cheating, being disloyal.”

JJ glances over to Spencer, seeing the cogs whirring away in his brain. “Rossi, you and Lewis spoke with the Littlewoods daughter, right?” Spencer asks as he walks over to the board, looking through all of the photos.

“Yeah, she said how her parents weren’t sharing a bed anymore, they were in the process of separating.” Tara comments and Hotch straightens up as Spencer turns on his heels.

“Rossi is right, it’s all about being disloyal. The unsub is projecting onto these couples, finding out about their personal lives or seeing snippets of them and punishing them for cheating or harming one another.” Spencer explains, and Hotch nods as he glances around at the rest of the team.

“I think we’re ready to deliver the profile, guys.” Hotch states as he closes his case file, heading out to speak with the deputy.

*

“So, how’s it going?” Your voice filled with curiosity is the only thing that can soothe Spencer’s thoughts as he lies down on the firm hotel mattress.

A long exhale leaves Spencer’s lips. “We’ve delivered the profile, now we’re just trying to narrow the search down.” Spencer explains, hearing the faint sound of the TV playing in your house. “How was work today?”

“Same old same old.” You chuckle as you busy yourself, unable to sit still without him at home with you. “My Mom came by earlier, she says hi.” You add shyly, despite having been together for two years, your parents visiting was an infrequent occurrence.

A small smile forms on Spencer’s lips as he listens to you, the normality he craves in his life. “How is she? Did your Dad abandon her like last time at the airport?” He asks through the line as he closes his eyes, listening to your story as you ramble on about all the things your Mom picked out about your house and about Spencer.

“And then she had the cheek to say you’re never here! Like, where is my Dad?” You scoff, hearing a gentle hum on the other end of the line. “Sorry, I got a bit lost there.”

“S’okay.” Spencer mumbles, his eyes unable to open again. “I’m hoping we’ll be flying back within the next week, sorry.”

You finally pause as you rest your hand on the back of Spencer’s beloved armchair beside his old bookcase. Forcing your smile to remain in place, you nod to yourself. “I get that, serial killers don’t have a care for date nights and the lives of others.” You laugh dryly, something that doesn’t go undetected by Spencer.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Spencer whispers to you, picturing you in front of him when he opens his eyes, only to be greeted by the tap leaking in his bathroom sink.

“Just, keep safe and find the son of a bitch, yeah?” You mutter. “I love you, Spencer.” You add, moving to sit in his armchair as you wrap his blanket around him, his aftershave weaved into the fabric.

“I love you too.” He whispers.

As you hang up, the tiredness Spencer previously had has vanished as he faces the ceiling, staring at the Artex wishing you could be by his side.

*

“Another couple has been taken from their home,” Hotch announces as he enters the conference room, everyone turning to look at him. “Maria King, 81 and Jacob King, 85. Their neighbour suspected something was wrong when they noticed their front door was wide open.”

“So our unsub has taken them to a secondary location?” JJ asks as Hotch nods in response.

“We’ve got a lead currently on where they might be held, but we’ll have to move quickly.” Hotch states as he exits the conference room, the rest of the team filing out straight to the lockers.

There was an unsteady tension in the two SUV’s on the drive to the abandoned farmhouse. Everyone was thinking the same thing, why the unsub would take an elderly couple.

“He’s clearly escalating from our profile.” Tara states as she sits in the passenger seat. “Garcia, was there any sign of an affair from either Maria or Jacob King?”

The sound of Penelope rapidly typing echoes through the line until it suddenly stops. “Nope, Maria and Jacob recently celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary, and it seems they’ve never been more in love.” Sadness coats Penelope’s voice as she looks through the photos of the couple. “The owner of the farmhouse is Tyler Edwards, however, Edwards sold the property last month to Lewis Wise. Unlike his name, Lewis was not the wisest in life. It seems that his wife, Clara, was on her way home from a business trip and died in a car crash.” Penelope explains, but a small gasp leaves her lips.

“What is it, Garcia?” Spencer chimes in, and the sound of typing increases.

“Well, turns out Clara was not coming back from a business trip, but instead her lover, Daniel Lovatt.”

“That could be our trigger,” Tara states. “Wise loses his wife and discovers she’s been having an affair.”

“How long ago did Clara die, Garcia?” Hotch asks, nearing the entrance to the property.

Humming, Penelope quickly answers. “Two months ago.”

“Same time the murders started.” Spencer mutters as they prepare to exit the SUV.

“Please let them be alive.” Penelope mutters to herself, closing the photos of the elderly couple from her monitors.  

Arriving at the farmhouse, the faint sound of screams could be heard as the team exit the SUV’s.

“JJ, you, Lewis and Rossi take the back entrance, Reid, we’ll go through the front.” Hotch explains, and with everyone in understanding, the team split up.

Following Hotch, Reid tried not to focus on the cries for help from the strained voices inside.

“Just, shut up!” The unsub exclaims.

“Please, my wife, she’s hurt. We need help.” A new voice, Jacob King cries out to the unsub.

“She won’t need help for much longer, I can promise you that.” A sick laugh follows and Hotch kicks the door down, running forward with his gun aimed at the unsub.

“FBI, drop the weapon!” Hotch yells as the unsub is standing behind Maria, his knife against her neck as her eyes continue to drop, she’s already losing blood.

“Lewis, just drop the knife. This couple, they’ve done nothing wrong.” Spencer speaks up, seeing the rest of the team enter from the back of the farmhouse, slowly walking forward, guns aimed at Wise.

“They have! Look at them, they, they hate each other!” Lewis spews as Jacob sobs quietly, his fingers intertwined with Maria’s.

“No, they don’t. Lewis, I know what happened to your wife, and I’m so sorry.” Spencer hesitantly steps forward, Hotch keeping his eyes trained on Wise. “But you don’t have to do this, there’s another option.” Spencer’s voice remains soft as he glances down to the couple and flashes a brief smile.

“I can’t, they need to be punished.” Lewis states as a whimper leaves Maria’s lips.

“Lewis, just put the knife down and we’ll talk.” Spencer reasons. “Here, I’ll put my gun down, how about that?” Spencer slowly lowers his gun to the floor, ignoring the worried looks from his team behind Lewis.

“But they are bad people.” Lewis repeats, his eyes darting from the couple to Spencer. “I, I won’t let them get away with it.” Lewis yells, and before he’s able to apply more pressure to Maria’s neck, shots are fired and Lewis falls backwards.

“Oh my god,” Jacob cries as his wife falls into his embrace.

“We need medics here, now!” Hotch speaks into his earpiece whilst Spencer rushes over, quickly followed by JJ.

“Medic’s are coming, you’ll both be all right.” JJ assures the couple as Maria looks up at Jacob with such adoration as he wipes her tears.

“I’ll always love you, Maria.” Jacob tells his wife as she shushes him. “No, no let me say this,” His voice cracks, and JJ looks up at the sound of sirens in the distance. “you were my first love, and you’ll always be my last.” Jacob sniffs as Spencer keeps pressure on the stab wound on her side, trying to ignore how blood is seeping through her top.

“I love you,” Maria breathes out as her eyes start to close, but Jacob protests.

“Don’t go yet honey, there’s so much more for us to do.” Jacob cries out, just as the medics arrive.

Stepping back, JJ rests her arm on Spencer as she guides him out from the farmhouse as they join the rest of the team, witnessing Lewis Wise being taken away.

“You okay, Spence?” JJ looks up as Spencer focuses on the police car as it drives away, his gaze shifting to the Kings sat in the back of the ambulance, still together, holding hands.

“Yeah, yeah.” Spencer nods, tearing his eyes from the couple as the image of you crosses his mind. “Just thinking about a few things, that’s all.”

“Wanna share?” JJ enquires, raising a brow to Spencer.

Yet, a small smile forms on Spencer’s lips as he shacks his head. “Maybe some other time, let’s go.”

*

For the entire flight home, Spencer could only think of one thing; you.

As soon as they arrived back at HQ, Garcia enveloped the team into a tight hug. “Oh thank god, you’re all safe and home.” She gushed as the team entered the bullpen one by one, Spencer last.

“Our angel came in yesterday for a visit.” Penelope speaks up as she walks alongside Spencer into the bullpen.

“She did?” The surprise is evident in Spencer’s tone, in the two years you’ve been together, you’ve visited the bureau a grand total of three times.

Penelope nods, trying to hide her growing smile. “She erm, left you something on your desk.” With that, Penelope rushes over to the others, having a hushed conversation whilst Spencer nears his desk.

Standing in front of it, nothing looks out of place. He knows exactly where he left the seventeen case files on the right-hand side just below his phone set. The pen pot still has three blue pens and two black, his monitor is off and the keyboard is parallel to the mouse.

“What did she leave?” Spencer calls out to Penelope as he spins in his chair, looking over as the team stand together, trying not to make it obvious they’re spying on him.

“Erm, try the second drawer?” Penelope answers and Spencer nods before turning back to his desk and opens the second drawer down.

Inside is an envelope with his name written across the front. Lifting it up, Spencer wastes no time opening it like a child on Christmas day, revealing an invitation for dinner, tomorrow night.

Unable to hide it, a blush rises through Spencer’s cheeks as he chuckles under his breath. You always have been one for extravagances, but that’s just one of the many things he loves about you.

Rising to his feet, Spencer slips the invitation into his satchel. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye, Spencer!” Penelope waves as Spencer tries to hide his eagerness to get home as he lightly jogs to the lift, his foot tapping against the floor as he waits for the doors to open.

Once they do, he slides in and once out of sight, the team turn their attention back to Penelope.

“What was in that envelope?” Rossi raises a brow to the tech wiz who merely shrugs her shoulders.

“I have no idea, Y/n knows better than to tell me these things.” Penelope explains, but there’s a hesitance in her tone the team know all too well. “But I may have taken a look at her recent search history and found out she’s booked a table for 7pm tomorrow evening at Spencer’s favourite restaurant.”

JJ chuckles to herself as she pats Penelope’s arm. “Couldn’t keep out, could you?”

Lowering her head in defeat, Penelope nods.

“Come on, how about a drink to celebrate another case?” Rossi suggests, and the team all gratefully agree. “And maybe Penelope will spill what else she knows about the future Mr and Mrs Reid.”

*

Pulling up outside of your apartment building, Spencer releases a shaky breath as he heads up to your floor, having the route memorised after your third date together.

As he stands outside of the apartment door, he reaches into his worn satchel for the key as music begins to play inside.

He doesn’t recognise the tune, but the faint sound of you singing along is something ingrained in his mind and hopes to never forget.

Unlocking the front door, Spencer quietly steps in as your singing becomes louder and more energetic as the beat of the song increases.

Unable to wipe the smile from his face, Spencer wanders through toward the kitchen and hovers in the doorway. There you’re dancing, holding a spatula in one hand as a microphone whilst wearing one of Spencer’s old shirts. You’re so carefree, without worry or sight of the missions Spencer endures, you’re not exposed to the graphic crime scenes or twisted minds of their unsubs. You are just you, and Spencer adores it.

“And it was called ‘Yellow’ So I took-” Turning on your heels you yell, throwing the spatula at Spencer. “Christ, Spence!” You laugh, running your fingers through your hair as you exhale shakily. “You scared me, when did you get in?”

Rushing over to him, you wrap your arms tightly around Spencer, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

For a moment, Spencer just holds you close, not wanting to respond. He always misses you when he goes away on cases, but coming back to you is always bittersweet.

“A few minutes ago, I could hear you singing and wanted to witness it without interruption.” He explains as you loosen your grip around him, relaxing your hands on his hips as you look up at his tired face.

“I missed you, goof.” You mutter as Spencer’s hand rises to your cheek, caressing it softly as you hum, leaning against it.

Faintly, the radio continues to play as you sway with Spencer before he leans down and kisses you. As always with Spencer, it begins as a delicate kiss as if he could break you, but as your arms rise to behind his neck, it deepens into something more passionate.

You smirk at the sound of him moaning quietly before pulling away. “Come on then, we’ve got time before dinners ready.” You wink, guiding him up the stairs as he chases behind you.

Lying in his arms, slightly sweaty, Spencer moves your hair from your face. Your eyes are growing heavy, and suddenly the words from Jacob King cross his mind as he held Maria in his arms, begging her to stay awake.

“You were my first love, and you’ll always be my last.”

Spencer mutters your name as you hum in response, opening your eyes as you look up at him. Outside, the sunset is peaking through your blinds, but this time it’s blinding you instead of him.

Squinting up to him, Spencer breathes a laugh. “I just want you to know, you’re my everything, and I know we don’t do emotional speeches because neither of us can finish without crying, but I love you, Y/n. And, I always will because you’re my sunshine, you’re the stars that glow in the night sky, though stars don’t actually glow as they’re mere-”

“Spence,” You mutter, shuffling in his arms to lean on your elbows, paying close attention to him as his eyes flicker over yours.

“Sorry, I, well, you’re my yellow. You radiate joy when I come home from missions and you never pry, you always give me time to explain when I’m ready. My family, the BAU adore you, I’m pretty sure Penelope might book us a wedding venue and arrange a wedding soon.” You laugh lightly, knowing it would be the case with Penelope. “And I just love you.”

A tear slips from Spencer’s eye, barely having a chance to fall before you wipe it away.

“I love you too Spencer Reid.” You sniff, tears glazing in your eyes as they glow in the sunlight. “And I’ll forever be grateful to be your yellow.” You whisper, curling up into his arms as he kisses the top of your head, wishing this moment would never end.

[daydreaming-jessi]

Day Five: Wedding This... took... WAY TOO LONG. UUUUUGH.

anyways, Lydia’s tux is based off the amazing works of @acicadat and @thespacehatter who both made FABULOUS tuxes for her to wear, and I am but a lowly goblin who wanted to follow in their footsteps :’3

Now onto the story!!!

“Oh my god this is the wo-orst.”

Lydia paused, her finger poised to knock on the door when the gravelly groan of Beetlejuice drifted out of the room. She reconsidered her options, before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort and firmly tapped twice on the door. “Better be decent, Beej, I’m coming in,” she called, turning the door knob and stepping into her pseudo brother’s room.

Beetlejuice was laid sprawled out on the bathroom counter, hair a whirling mess of colors. He was mostly dressed, his kippah was in place, and he was properly cleaned up. It seemed the only problem he was only dealing with was a bad case of wedding nerves.

Lydia smirked and closed the door behind her, moving to grab Beetlejuice’s jacket off the bed and flung it at his prone body. “Get up, loser. It’s almost time for you to get married,” she ordered.

Lydia wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten to this point, holding a wedding ceremony for Beetlejuice and the Maitlands in their home. She knew Beetlejuice had a crush on the Maitlands. He told her all about it in return for her telling him about her crush. She knew that one day the ghosts finally all got together, after various nail painting sessions in which Beej bemoaned his feelings, and some rather obvious heavy flirtation from both parties. She knew that they had basically reached the gross domestic stage of dating, the trio basically sharing the attic and spending a ludicrous amount of time being gross and schmoopy together. But Lydia wasn’t sure when they all decided they wanted to all marry each other. She just knew that one random day Beetlejuice burst into Lydia’s room hollering about how she needed to be his escort for his wedding that was now on. She didn’t know how the proposals had happened, but of course, she was all in. And of course she’d be Beetlejuice’s escort, she’d be offended if she wasn’t.

Her parents were happily roped in to help plan out the wedding, and the three ghosts were a mess of love and nerves about the upcoming wedding date. It was probably odd from an outsiders perspective, why would a ghost couple marry a deadborn when they all were no longer alive and it didn’t matter anymore, and some people would look down on the polyamorous aspect of the relationship, because some people cared too much about matters that didn’t involve them, but to Lydia this whole thing made perfect sense. This was how their family was, and it made the three paranormal beings happy, and that’s all that mattered to Lydia.

Slowly Beetlejuice peeked out from his jacket mournfully, pulling Lydia from her thoughts. “What if they realize they don’t want to do it? What if I fuck up, or they hate me and they le-ave?” he whined.

Lydia sat down on the bed, shooting Beetlejuice a flat look. “Listen, bitch. Barb and Adam aren’t just going to randomly back out and just hate you. For some weird reason, they like you enough to marry you, Beej. If they didn’t back out when you tried to convince us to have Sandy as the officiant, they won’t back out now on the actual day of the wedding.” The sandworm seemed upset that she didn’t get the part, but she cheered up when they had her stand guard over the chuppah, in case any other beast wanted to try crashing the wedding. The honor of officiant surprisingly fell to one Miss Argentina, who somehow was certified as an officiant for any type of wedding out there. Apparently ghosts getting married to each other was a common occurrence in the Netherworld.

Beetlejuice looked away, but Lydia’s words seemed to be working as his hair bled into a lovely mix of magenta and green. “Maybe you have a point,” he admitted begrudgingly.

Lydia stood up and kicked his leg. “I’m always right, and you know it. Now c’mon, I got dolled up and everything to take you to marry my ghost parents. I’m not gonna let you make all my hard makeup work be for nothing,” she gestured to the thick eyeliner and pale white foundation, making her appear as a ghastly apparition similar to the bride and bridegrooms.

Beetlejuice slowly stood, putting his jacket on properly. He straightened his kippah and sucked in a quick breath. “Ok, ok. Ok! I can do this. I’m the ghost with the most! I got this!” He growled to his reflection, flexing his hands.

“Yeah, you married a fifteen year old once, two consenting adult ghosts should be a cakewalk in comparison,” Lydia agreed, smirking.

Beetlejuice spluttered at that, spinning around and jabbing a finger at the teen. “I already apologized like a billion times for that! You’re really gonna bring this up again now?”

Lydia grinned, and turned to the door, gliding away. “Creepy old guy, creepy old guy, my ghost parents are marrying their own creepy old guy!” She sang.

“I swear to whatever deity out there, I will have my vengeance on you, Scarecrow!” Beetlejuice raced after her, and Lydia sprinted out into the hall, cackling.

Delia was walking up the stairs, carrying a folded cloth in her arms when Lydia raced out, and the teen quickly hid behind her stepmother. “Fix his hair, get him prepared for Armageddon. Sure, the grooms both crawled out of a tomb, but hey, hey, it's a wedding!” Lydia sang as she peeped around Delia.

Beetlejuice appeared in his bedroom doorway looking ready to chase after, but froze upon seeing the white cloth in Delia’s arms. “Oh,” his eyes widened as he realized that she was holding a tallit.

“What are you two doing?” Delia giggled, looking back to Lydia who looked like the cat who caught the canary.

“I’m pumping Beej up for the upcoming ceremonies, like a good escort,” Lydia explained, batting her eyes innocently.

Delia hummed disbelievingly, but turned back to Beetlejuice who was looking uncertainly at the tallit in her arms. Delia smiled, and unfolded the white cloth. “I thought you would appreciate having this for today. Hasn’t been used in a while, but I’m sure my parents would be happy with me letting it be used again,” she explained, carefully setting the tallit around Beetlejuice’s shoulders. He carefully clutched the cloth, swallowing heavily.

“Thanks, D,” he murmured, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Of course, sweetie. Now, let’s get our creepy old guy married!” Delia grinned, grabbing Beetlejuice’s arm while Lydia grabbed his other and the three started for the stairs.

“So dim the lights, pick up some rice, say something nice. It's their day to shine, they’re getting hitched to our creepy old guy!” the two sang in unison as they glided down the stairs, dragging a put upon Beetlejuice with them.

“Goddammit you guys, why??”

They continued to tease him as they went, and when they met with Charles outside of the room they were going to sign the ketubah, they roped him into their impromptu singing. “Have you guys heard of Marston? This is like that, but supernatural!” He said as he opened the door with a wink, discreetly squeezing Beetlejuice’s shoulder reassuringly as they entered the room.

Beetlejuice felt ready to strangle hug them all tight at the same time, but then he saw the Maitlands, and if his heart was beating, it would’ve stopped right then and there. Barbara was drop dead (Hah) gorgeous in her dress, and Adam cut the handsomest figure in his suit, both just looking so… beautiful. What really made Beetlejuice happy, though, was seeing they were just as nervous as he was. Adam kept readjusting his kippah, and Barbara kept straightening her veil, but when the other four stepped in, the two locked eyes with Beetlejuice, and the biggest grins graced their faces. Beetlejuice never felt more ready for this in his entire after life. It was showtime.

“O.M.G. Dressed to a "T". Fancy and formal, I found me a husband and wife. L'chaim to life. This is so absurdly normal! I was ignored, but now, I'm adored! 'Cause I was real, honest and apologized. Give it up for my ghost husband and bride!”

The three almost cried when they signed the ketubah, and they actually did cry when they said their vows at the ceremony. It was disgustingly sweet, even Beetlejuice was shockingly sincere in his vows, his eyes only for the ghost couple he was marrying, the three of them draped with the tallit Delia gave them.

When the vows were given, the glass broken by the three, and everyone finished cheering, the three were quick to take their yichud before the reception. When the door was closed and they were finally alone together, they hugged, for a long, quiet moment. It seemed as if time had froze, and the moment would stretch on forever.

That is, until Barbara gently began to sing, “We are marrying our creepy old guy.”

Beetlejuice froze, before breaking down into laughter, shoving Barbara and Adam away as they sang “Creepy old guy!” at him with wide grins.

“I don’t even know why I married you!” He howled, his kippah almost tumbling off as he rocked back with laughter.

“It’s too late to back out now,” Adam grinned, wrapping his arms around the demon and holding him up.

“You’re a part of Maitlands 3.0 now!” Barbara added, throwing her arms around the both of them. The three laughed, the wedding jitters now long gone.

“Yeah,” Beetlejuice couldn’t help but agree, smiling back dopily at the two. Eternity with them was going to be better than any experience he ever could’ve had being alive.

[sabineelectricheart]

A Sleepless Night Under the Lone Moon

Summary: Dimitri has trouble sleeping. His wife has a ritual she does not tire attempting.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 2000

Notes: Yes, I know I’ve done this one before, but two cakes, I suppose? This one is longer, too.

It was just another chilly night just before the New Year. The King of Fódlan and the Archbishop have recently arrived for their season in Garreg Mach, certainly exhausted from their long trip across the Ogma Mountains.

Nevertheless, if one were to pass through the gardens between the two halls that evening, a tall and well-built figure could be seen standing silently on the Star Terrace, looking up to the sky, searching for something that might as well not be there. The full moonlight hit his face, and one could see he was a very handsome long-haired man. He had a few scars on his face and a missing eye, which strangely only made him look even better. However, he carried a weary expression on his face.

King Dimitri, once again, could not sleep.

The Archbishop sensed this. She could sense very clear that he was not there, right beside her in the large bed.

Byleth woke up in the middle of the night, and searched for him with her hands patting his side of the bed. The fact that he was not there did not make her too startled, as it was common occurrence in these years of marriage.

It was one of those things you might not appreciate about your partner, but you learn to live with. Somehow, she had grown used to the fact that he would often have trouble sleeping. Sometimes, he did not even sleep at all. Nevertheless, whenever it came to be, it would shatter her still heart into a billion pieces.

The Tragedy of Duscur was only but a dark chapter of history. The towns were rebuilt, the people have returned and the province prospered. Felix and Ingrid made peace with their loss, and he knew Lambert and Patricia certainly were not all he remembered them to be. The war was won, Edelgard is dead and one would be hard-pressed to find someone who misses her. He had undergone many therapies and seances, and he was beyond happy with the life he built for himself from the wreckage it once was. Yet, Dimitri still hears the voices.

The fires of that night had taken many things from him. The taste of his tongue and the feeling of his hands, to name just a couple, but ever since then he was also rarely able to have good nights of sleep, something he had loathed ever since the attack.

It was difficult for him to exactly pinpoint what he hated so much about it. Perhaps, it was the fact that the sleepless nights reminded him of how he had been marked with this wretched curse, this burden, for eternity. It also stood for the symbol that he would never taste the warm buns of his childhood nor feel the voluptuous curves on his wife’s body. Losing sleep was plainly annoying as well, as it carries his headaches along. Or, maybe, there was a connection with how Byleth would always stay up to keep him company.

That night was not any different.

Alongside the cool breeze that hit his shirtless body, he felt her warm arms wrapping him in a back hug and her cheek being pressed against him. The combination of cool and warm touches caused shivers to go down his spine. He smiled to himself, but guilt soon started to run in his veins.

“Go back to sleep, beloved.” He whispered. “There is certainly much to be done in the morning, and Seteth will not grant you any reprieve.”

“Not without you.” She responded, petulantly.

“You know I will not be able to sleep tonight.” His voice manifested both frustration and firmness, especially because he did not want her to face the morning to come feeling tired over him. “There is nothing either of us can do about it.”

“History tells I have many magnificent feats under my name. I can always try. Tonight might be your lucky night.” The religious leader leaned back, breaking the comforting connection between their skins.

He chuckled. “Every night you spend with me is a lucky night, beloved. I will not begrudge you sleep to test my own fortune.”

In response to his declaration, her ethereally smooth hands travelled to the sides of his body, and gave them a light squeeze, silently asking him to turn around and look at her. His icy blue eyes, a perennial inheritance from Blaiddyd himself, found her mint greens in a matter of seconds, and a grin suddenly took over her lips. She absolutely adored his eyes and, if given permission, she would spend hours getting lost in them.

While looking at his eyes, she saw deep and beautiful oceans, summer skies, and balmy waves. Dimitri made her feel like she was back in the Blue Sea Star.

“Let me take care of you.” Byleth whispered against his skin.

He slowly gave in to her request, and accepted to be taken care of. With her hands guiding him to wherever she went, she did her best to distract his mind off his frustration and insanity for a little while. She talked about the inane requests that littered her desk, the gossip Mercedes and the maids let her know, and the cute baby she would baptize next afternoon.

Just like that, before any of them could realize, the marble clawfoot bathtub that occupied a corner on their bathroom at the monastery was filled with hot water and aromatic salts. Taking baths together was a pivotal element of their ritual for sleepless nights. They would usually spend quite a long time in the water, she would talk about unimportant things and he would laugh carelessly at her purposefully obtuse observations.

At that moment, both of their bodies were submerged in the temporary alleviation the water offered. Despite being taller and more muscular than his wife, Dimitri had his back leaned against her chest, being extremely careful not to hurt her under his inhumane strength.

Her nimble fingers ran across his molten gold long locks, untying the knots that formed since she last brushed it back in Fhirdiad. Afterwards, she pressed her lips gently on his temples, as an act of silent kindness for letting her share on his company.

“Damn, Dima, you’re packing.” Byleth joked as she nestled closer against his front body.

The vibration of his laugh resonated in her chest, and she laughed along with him, feeling relieved over his relaxation.

“Your significant other must be very lucky, huh?” She continues the silly joke, just so he would feel better about himself. “I bet that, having such a fat cock like that, you are a love machine.”

The monarch grinned wolfishly. “I’m a fuck machine.”

She laughed loudly and even snored a little bit, bringing fresh warmth to his heart. After murmuring he was, actually, ridiculous, she decided it was time to leave the bathtub, due to the falling temperature of the water. He was the first one to stand up, and he offered her his hand as a support for she to stand up as well.

In no time, they were dry and their bodies were covered with fine, cool silks, perfect for the Spring climate in Garreg Mach.

As Byleth stared at her own reflection in the mirror, she realized how her husband looked a bit better. He still carried the same weary expression from before, but he did not look as dreadful as when he looked wistfully out to the empty courtyard.

“I wonder what those stuck-up, annoying Adrestian nobles would think if they saw their king like this.” The blond said, as he sits on the four-poster bed.

“Like what?” Byleth sits next to him and lets an arm snake around his shoulder.

“Like a kept man.” He shook his head to himself, but it was crystal clear he was not upset over anything that was happening then.

It was amusing to whomever was privy to their home life how Dimitri held a somewhat intimidating image and a grievous past, but still managed to be so soft and pliant towards his wife, doing as she says as if direct commandment from the Goddess herself. Which it was, on a roundabout way.

As bad as his moods could be these days, deep down, Byleth could not be anything other than wholeheartedly thankful for his behaviours, for him not blocking her out anymore. Although there were long, dreadful Moons soon after the Millennium Festival when he dismissed her cares, when they first reunited, this is only memories of a distant past. Even when he fell to his low points amongst their better years since the end of the war, he would never last for too long without her.

“I will be right back. I asked for Cyril to leave a pitcher, so I am going to prepare ourselves some warm milk.” She stood on her tiptoes and pecked his lips before leaving the room.

She left him with a bright and calm smile on his lips, which, however, soon faded away into a grimace. There was a clear pang of guilt in his chest, of disgrace over his petulant behaviour, but he could not lie and say he was not feeling any better after sharing a bath with his beloved. Her touch was always so gentle and caring, and she did not seem to be bothered by his situation by any means, but still he hears the voices, and still he sleeps not.

How on Earth had he gotten to be so favoured, even after so many bad events that took place in his life? Even with so many sins on his hands? Should he not have to pay for his mistakes? Is it only a matter of time until the other shoe drops?

A few minutes passed by, and she returned to his presence with two mugs, one on each hand. Her placid face assured him everything was alright, and that she got his back no matter what, a promise she made due countless times over the years. She would be by his side even in the middle of the night, after having an exhausting day of travelling through a perilous mountain pass, or with her heart overwhelmed by her own problems, frustrations and feelings.

She would always be by his side because she loved him, and it was nothing short of shameful how little he offered in return for such unwavering devotion.

“There you go, love.” One of her hands gave him a plain white mug with a steaming liquid inside of it.

Another part of her ritual was to end the night with a mug of warm milk with some drops of honey. She had read Saint Timoteos writings, and he noted that honey could help with sleeping problems, and that stuck with her for a long time, to the point they now kept an apiary both in Fhirdiad and in Garreg Mach. His wife had always eagerly grasped at things that could help him somehow.

Her own mug was taken to her lips as she sipped the drink, and her chest felt full of a sympathetic warmth. Dimitri, on the other hand, did not sip his drink and this did not pass unnoticed by Byleth.

When she was about to ask him what was wrong, his voice echoed in the room first. “Come here.”

She stepped closer to him with a puzzled look on her face, but he only dismissed it with a charming wink. His fingers ran along her jawline, and his hand cupped her face right after it. He pulled her closer to him, his lips soon connecting to hers.

After dedicating one or two minutes to a kiss in which she had to focus on both her lips moving in sync, and mugs being balanced in her hands, the Archbishop broke away. Their eyes found each other once more, and she nuzzled her nose up against his.

He rested his forehead on hers, his next words being softly whispered. “You taste like honey.”

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[elizaviento]

Manipulation (part 13)

Note:  Uhh.  So yeah -- sorry it’s taken me 1 billion years to post this update.  Lazy bitch syndrome is real and it hit me pretty hard.  At any rate, I hope this makes up for it.  :)

NSFW -- 2950 words

(FYI: This story is a sequel/companion piece to Assimilation, which can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog’s description along with additional chapters of Manipulation.  Or, you can click the #manipulation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

When I awoke just a few hours later – as if my mind could ever quiet down enough to grant me more than that – she remained fast asleep.  At some point, she’d turned in my arms and was now lying flat on her back with her hair draped over her face.  Several strands had fallen into her gaping mouth and were completely saturated with her saliva.  Suppressing a laugh, I gently picked them from her mouth before dropping the moist stands on the pillow.

“Fuckin’ gross,” I grumbled before hauling my aching bones from the cot. ��Getting dressed was the usual task, along with fishing my flask from my lab coat breast pocket for my morning dose of pick-me-the-fuck-up.

I didn’t have any concrete plans for the day.  Morty was at school and I briefly considered yanking him from Math class. All of my current projects were not interesting in the least at the moment.  My mind was so preoccupied with the woman sleeping in my bed that even going on an adventure seemed terribly bland in comparison to the intense desire to portal back into my room – because walking would take way too much precious time – and fuck her brains out. But, considering how absolutely haggard she’d looked earlier that morning, I gathered up enough willpower to leave her be.

----------

Several hours later, I was shifting through the boxes on my metal shelves in the garage, tossing things to the side that I had been procrastinating throwing out, I caught movement from the corner of my eye.

She was casually strolling toward the open garage door with a sway in her hips that I hadn’t witnessed firsthand since before I’d left all those years ago and my eyes glued to her figure like flies on shit.  The grin gracing her lips was playful and sexy as hell and I caught her wink as her styled hair bounced with each step, in time with her breasts.  Hitching a breath, I prepared to quip a clever turn of phrase in an attempt to hear that delightful giggle of hers but before I could, her cell phone issued a shrill chirp from her small handbag, drawing her attention to the hand held device.  Then, giving a quick and curt wave, she turned on those ridiculously high heeled shoes and pranced her way to the lime green hatchback parked on the street.

Wait a second, I thought as her car zipped through the residential streets.  Where the fuck is she going?  She looked absolutely stunning and there was no way she was going somewhere dressed like that… alone.

----------

I’d hopped in my ship and followed her by air as she weaved through the streets, making her way toward one of the many places that humans congregate in throngs.  Then, she finally parked her car in the nearly full lot of a restaurant that probably housed its fair share of douche bags. Narrowing my eyes, I glared holes through the windshield of the ship as they remained trained on her form.  She was obviously meeting someone and, even though I knew I shouldn’t give any shits, I actually gave many, many shits.  And, as much as I wanted to immediately chase her down, I opted to sulk in silence for a half an hour or so before making my way inside.

I spotted her nearly instantly, tucked away in the corner of the restaurant with some goober looking mother fucker and I felt my blood pressure rise to a degree that was actually concerning.  And, she was smiling – she was fucking laughing.  What the actual fuck?

My mind was screaming at me to leave; just turn around and abandon this fiasco waiting to happen.  But, let’s face it, when have I ever listened to logic where there was a full bar within spitting distance?  So, I sat down and ordered the biggest, strongest, cheapest drink.  And, she continued smiling – she continued laughing.  I felt my fingers twitch as my hand seemed to move of its own volition; sliding across the slick top of the glass covered bar, toward my lab coat to fish though the inner pockets until it located the flat, rectangular device that I knew would be my ruin.  Without restraint, my fingers flew over the touch screen –

Me:  So how’s your boyfriend?

Me:  He looks like a doofus.

Me:  He can’t be THAT funny.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied her distracted expression as her phone drew her attention away from the moron blabbing across the table from her.  She did, however, sweep her eyes across the expanse of the restaurant, until I felt them settle on me.

Me:  He thinks he’s getting his dick sucked.

Me:  I bet his nuts smell like cottage cheese.

Me:   Does he know you like ‘em swaggly?

Her:  Jealous?

Again, THAT word – that fucking word – flashed like a beacon behind my eyes.  I felt the actual emotions course and burned through my veins almost as keenly as the cheap whiskey and all I could do was scowl at the bottom of my glass, helpless and pitiful, as she carried on with her date.

After what felt like hours of straining to eavesdrop on their conversation, their check arrived and she snatched it from the edge of the table before the doofus she was sharing her time with could protest.  At this point, my body went on autopilot.  Rising from the bar stool, my legs felt like jelly as they moved of their own accord, toward the secluded table in the corner of the restaurant. Then, before she noticed my presence, I slide smoothly into the booth seat beside her and eyed her idiotic date warily.

“Heyyy, babe. Who – who’s your little friend?”

She gawked at the bug eyed moron across the table, her own eyes wide with shock.  A swell of pride bloomed in my chest when I realized that I had successfully ruined whatever ‘romantic’ evening he may have had planned for my girl.

“Hi, I’m Trevor,” he said, extending a hand toward me from across the table.

“Rick Sanchez,” I replied, not taking ‘Trevor’s’ offered hand but, instead, pulling her closer next to me.  She remained speechless until I placed a hand on her knee and began gliding it up her nicely shaped thigh.

“Trevor and I were just going over the architectural plans I drew for his house,” she offered, lifting a large portfolio from the booth on the opposite side of her, closest to the wall, and placing it on the table.  She turned to look at me straight in the eye and resisted the obvious urge to flinch back when she saw that my face was mere inches from hers.

“So, are you two… um…” Trevor began.

“Fuckin’? Yeah, man.  Oh yeah – all the way.  She – uh – she’s wild, too.  I-I-I mean, not like you’d know.  Or – or anything.  Nah – she’s wayyy too hot – too fine.”

From beside me, she issued a terse laugh that bordered on hysterical while her date began to gather his things to leave.

“Don’t forget the drawings,” she said, taking the large, folded prints from her portfolio. “Please, look them over again and get back to me with the changes, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, plucking the drawings from her delicate fingers. “I’ll email you.”

Just then, I felt a hot flush erupt though my body, originating from my chest, when the realization hit me square in the gut that I’d completely mistaken this entire situation.  They really had been attending a business meeting and I’d just acted like a complete asshole; which was not a rare occurrence, to be sure.  But, no fucking doubt, I’d screwed myself to the wall with the dumb ass shit I’d just pulled with her.  Instead of folding my shitty hand, however, I kept with my time honored tradition of making sure I always get the last word – no matter what.

“Don’t l-let the door hit ya on the way out,” I called, giving Trevor a salute as he turned on his oddly high shinned loafers and hightailed it out of the restaurant. And, as soon as he was out of sight, she groaned and covered her face as my arm slowly retreated from her shoulder.

“Why?” she asked, her voice a high pitched whine but muffled behind her hands. Instead of replying, I ordered us both a scotch on the rocks as the waitress came by to pick up the check. When the drinks were delivered, she downed hers in one shot and then snatched mine to do the same.

Can you fucking blame her? my conscience chimed in as I pulled my flask for a swig and hunched over the table while attempting to play nonchalant.  Then, she started giggling.

“What – w-what’s so fuckin’ funny?” I asked, sounding like a sourpuss even to my own ears. She giggled harder.

“You really think I’m fine?” she asked, shifting her upper body to fully face me in the booth.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, though.  What the hell was that?”

Again, I supplied no response.  She knew that I knew I’d fucked up.

“By the way, Trevor is totally gay,” she cooed, breaking me from my pity party.

Something was happening.  Glancing in her direction, I could see the blush rising in her cheeks.  Then, in a not-so-subtle move, she pressed her tits against my arm when retrieving her card that the waitress had just dropped on the edge of the table and I literally had to force myself not to react.

She scooted closer to me in the booth and attempted to ‘casually’ drape one thigh over mine and grasped one of my hands from the table, planting it on her knee in a recreation of our secret grope session in the back of Beth’s car. Quirking a brow, I trailed my hand further up her thigh at a sensually slow place.  She hitched a breath when I finally reached the hem of her lace panties, where I hooked a finger under the elastic and playfully snapped.  She flirtatiously laughed in response, tilting her head to rest on my shoulder, but I refused to look at her – only slowly trailed my finger around the elastic on her thigh until I reached the apex of her legs.

Then, finally, I made eye contact as I nudged the thin fabric to the side and smoothly slid my middle and ring finger inside her.  She was soaking wet.

“Oh fuuuck,” I whispered, closing my eyes.  When I dragged my fingers out and slowly pushed them back in, she bit her bottom lip and dug her nails in the meaty flesh of my forearm to stifle a moan.  She was still looking up into my face when I opened my eyes and pressed my lips her forehead, repeating the motion once more.  “That feel good – y-you like that, beautiful?”

“Rick,” she breathed, as I withdrew my fingers to gently rub her clit.  Her legs began to tremble so she circled the calf of the leg draped over mine around my calf and hooked her foot behind it, opening herself up wider.  I pressed inside once again and she exhaled a shaky breath while staring up into my face.  Just then, every dark desire I’d ever harbored for her bubbled to the surface and I simply didn’t have the willpower to refuse them any longer. Dropping a comically chaste kiss to her forehead, I performed a quick visual scan of our immediate area.

The restaurant had a dark ambiance by design to make each booth feel intimate.  We were seated in a booth that was situated in the corner, set further apart from the remainder of the dining area. The side of the booth that we currently occupied was facing in such a way that we could not be seen head on.  In the few seconds it took for me to perform a visual assessment, my hand and grown still between her legs.  Apparently, that simply would not do – as evident by release of her vice grip from my forearm to my upper thigh, gliding upward until she fully cupped my already painfully hard cock through my slacks.  I involuntarily jerked at the contact and returned my gaze to her face.

“I – I gotta taste you,” I declared, pitching my voice low so it could only be heard by her ears before completely extracting my soaking fingers from her cunt and exiting the booth.  Obviously confused by my actions, she made to exit the booth herself and I stopped her with a curt, “Stay,” before taking a seat in the booth on the opposite end of the table, facing her.  Then, propping my elbows on the table, I did one last visual scan of the room. Curious, she turned to see what I could be searching for and, while she was distracted, I slid from the booth seat to situate on my knees under the table before she or anyone else was the wiser. When I shuffled toward her and closed my hand around her right ankle, she squealed and jerked upward, attempted to yank her foot away in the process.

“Calm the fuck down!” I hissed, tightening my grip slightly in silent warning before gliding up her calf, my lips and tongue following close behind.

Glancing up her body in the semi-darkness, I caught her attempting to peak at me from under the cloth and smirked as my hands and mouth and tongue continued their teasing upward decent.  When I reached her knee, I hooked my hand beneath it to hook her leg over my shoulder. Then, I shoved her opposite leg outward and wedged myself between her thighs to make room before hooking my fingers under the lace of her panties, yanking them to the side.  Her body slightly trembled in a way that made my heart rate skyrocket drastically and, when my tongue finally made contact, I felt every muscle in her body tense and my ears were just able picked up her muffled gasps and moans.

I didn’t waste time with teasing.  I lapped at her pussy, from top to bottom – truly tasting her – dragging the flat of my tongue up and down over and over.  I probed her hole, pushing my tongue inside, fucking her with it until her legs instinctively tried to clamp around my head.  I simply pushed the leg not over my shoulder outward once more and continued my mission, darting my tongue upward toward her clit where I circled and flicked the engorged bundle of nerves, making her body tremble and jerk in response.

Suddenly, I stopped and moved back slightly when the most scandalous idea occurred to me. Retrieving my cell phone, my fingers flew across the touch screen.

Me:  Your pussy is so delicious baby.

Above me, she barked out a strangled laugh before shuffling around on the table top. Seconds later, my phone vibrated in response.

Her:  Suck on my clit.

Feeling myself flush at her bold request – which seemed ironic considering I was the one eating her snatch under a restaurant table – I moved in closer still and wrapped my lips around her clit, just as she asked.  No – demanded.  No more than two minutes later, the familiar buzz interrupted me once more.

Her:  I’m so close, Rick.  Fuck me with your fingers, please!

And, I obliged – pressing my eager digits inside; curling and dragging and pressing.  My mouth resumed the gently suckling of her clit, adding the sweeping motion of my tongue for good measure until she was full on shaking, unable to disguise it as her cunt clinched violently.  I knew my good girl was so close for me.

Me:  Cum on my face, my beautiful girl.

Right on cue, her body went entirely rigid; one hand slamming the top of the table while the knee resting over my shoulder jerked upward and slammed the bottom simultaneously as she came all over my face – just as I’d requested.

A moment later, I pulled back and gently lifted her leg from my shoulder.  She nearly slid down the booth to the floor but I caught her calves and shoved her upward before reaching for my phone once more.

Me:  Let me know when the coast is clear.

It was at least a few minutes before she stuck her hand under the table to wave me out.   But, while I waited, I continued to sext her – making sure to keep her hot and bothered now that I knew she had a penchant for voyeurism.

Me:  I’m not finished with you yet.  I’m gonna fuck you stupid, sweetheart.

Me:  It smells like your pussy under here.

Her:   Bet me I won’t be banned from this restaurant for the rest of my life.

Me:   Fuck that.  Bet me this table won’t be reserved for months by every horny pervert within a 20 mile radius.

Me:  We’ve done this dumb a favor.

When I finally reemerged on the other side of the booth, the spent expression she wore was so obvious that I couldn’t help the Cheshire grin that spread across my teeth as the rose colored blush tinted her chest, neck and cheeks.  I had truly underestimated this girl, perhaps since the moment I’d met her.

Well, I was more than ready to make up for lost time.

To be continued…

[kaknzn]

So I’ve been thinking about writing this for a while. I know Itachi isn’t my muse here on tumblr, but I’ve had some interesting thoughts about him since I’ve gotten back into Naruto. 

So, I say it a lot, but I do have an autoimmune disease. My specific disease is called Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease [UCTD], or otherwise known as incomplete lupus. This disease is diagnosed when someone shows symptoms of multiple autoimmune diseases, and specialists aren’t specifically able to diagnose one singular thing. My disease could progress to Lupus, or it could potentially go dormant. 

I don’t have the same sickness Itachi has. He was speculated to have MPA, or Microscopic Polyangiitis. So I can’t give you a complete rundown of how he’s probably feeling. Everyone’s autoimmune experience is going to be different. I can only tell you what I’ve felt, and what my experiences were, and how that can translate to some empathy for Itachi.

I want to talk specifically about chronic pain, and sickness, and how it can be troublesome in the day to day life. 

Itachi and I share a similar symptom of musculoskeletal pain. This happens when the body attacks the lining around the muscles and bones. This can translate to a deep tissue sense of pain. If I were to describe what this pain felt like to me, imagine a billion tiny insects eating their way out of your bones, and you might get close. 

Some people with autoimmune diseases call an occurrence of pain a “Flare Up”. My flare ups generally happen in my hips, knees, elbows, hands, calves, thighs, forearms and right shoulder. I often have flare ups in my ribs as well. This makes my range of motion limited, and it’s really rather disabling. I’m actually currently on disability for my disease. 

Anything can cause a flare up. From the food we eat, to minor exercise, to weather. Musculoskeletal flare ups can also come with some really awful swelling.

Here are some examples of my last bad flare up. My knees are so swollen they can’t bend, my hand is unable to move from that position. I could barely get out of bed. I could not open doors. I could not pick things up. I could barely support my own weight. I ended up trapped in the bath tub for half an hour until I dragged myself out. These are things that could very easily happen to Itachi due to his autoimmune disease. 

I want to take a moment now to explain why I’m writing this. I feel like Itachi is a lot more limited by his pain than he lets on. He doesn’t move a whole lot when he fights, and he tends to just use his eyes, and hands. His final battle with Sasuke, he had incredibly limited movement, and delayed reaction times. Itachi, as it was stated canonly, was very sick. 

Not only this, but it was stated canonly that he used medication to keep himself going long enough to have his battle with Sasuke. And OH BOY. Let me tell you that medication can be such a bitch. Besides dealing with the pain from the disease, you get to deal with all the side effects of medication. Nightmares, sweating, stomach trouble, fever, hallucinations, just to name a few that I’ve experienced. 

So going through so much pain, and issues with medication, and trying to balance all of that with walking for miles and miles chasing down tailed beasts? Can you even imagine? Think for a moment, about Itachi having his knee swollen so badly he can barely support his weight, and yet he still walks like he has no issues. He pushes through all of that in silence. 

If his experience is anything like mine, I have no idea how that man was standing at the end of the day. He must be absolutely sick, and exhausted. Another parallel Itachi and I have are the constant sickness. Throwing up.

While Itachi throws up blood, I myself have a protein intolerance called FPIES.

Wanting so little to do with food that you drop 20 pounds in a week is a very real thing. Your teeth suffer damage, your throat gets sore and hoarse, your stomach muscles are sore. Add that on top of other autoimmune disease symptoms: fever, chronic pain, swelling, coughing up blood, throwing up blood, brain fog-- I could go on.

My headcanon, really, is that Itachi Uchiha is a medical disaster, and if I’m feeling even a third of what that bastard went through, I fucking feel sorry for him.

[armoured-iron-geek]

Tony’s Final Choice: Part 2

Follow up to Tony’s Final Choice

As requested by @pinksaphira11

It was Rocket and Quill who found Tony in the dust on that lonely cluster of leftover planet, broken and bloody and bruised...his heart beating no longer. The Iron Man suitcase armour dropped hopelessly from Quill’s hand, far too late to save and protect it’s creator.

As Quill stepped forward to further assess the body, Rocket raised a shaking paw to the communicative device in his ear that he and Tony had built their quick friendship over creating together. He passed along the grave message to Strange, who then spoke onto his own ear piece.

For the fighters in Wakanda, the planet seemed to stop spinning for a brief moment, a thick tension quickly building then bursting in a wave of shock as Strange’s voice reverberated through their very souls.

 “Iron Man is down. Repeat: Iron Man...is down.”

*******************

Thanos had backed down for the time being, biding his time despite having nearly all of the Infinity Stones in his possession. No one was quite sure why he had decided that this break was necessary, but they weren’t going to waste an opportunity to lick their wounds, re-group and, most importantly, lay their loved ones to rest.

In some morbid way, the Avengers could be considered lucky to have only lost a single member of their team while entire families had been ripped apart and entire planets had lost their populations. And in another morbid way, Tony was lucky to remain an individual, to keep his name and not just become a figure in some statistic logged in a government file. He remained Anthony Edward Stark:

Genius. Billionaire. Husband. Philanthropist.Hero. Martyr.

Two weeks after his death, he and his beloved Pepper, who had perished in the act of evacuating Stark Industries during the initial invasion, lay peacefully side-by-side in a closed double-casket made from gold titanium alloy. The funeral itself was worthy of Mr and Mrs. Stark’s status, but there was a simplicity to it’s elegance.

The service was held in Green-Wood Cemetery, among the oak trees and upon freshly mowed green grass. The attendees gathered close to each other, a fairly large group, but restricted to distant family, friends, colleagues and members of the Stark Industries board. Memorials and makeshift candle-light vigils were held in the US and all around the world for the fans and admirers who wanted to say good-bye in their own way. People sang, danced and prayed, some clad in black, others in red and gold.

As both Tony and Pepper were openly atheist, there were no psalms or passages from any religious texts to be read, just stories and memories to be told and cherished. Eventually, it was time to lower the Starks into their final resting place, a melancholy song called River crooning them downwards.

**************

Several miles away, a solemn teen rested against a mountain of pillows in a hospital, limbs in casts, IV’s in place and the steady beeping of a heart monitor for company. His aunt had disappeared to run a few errands, promising to return as soon as possible, but in all honesty, he was glad for the loneliness. No one can pity you if they don’t see you crying.

His sobs weren’t caused by any physical pain. His healing factor had kicked in perfectly and if it weren’t for the fact that his legs had been shattered so badly, he’d already be up and out of there. No, this pain was far worse than any broken bone, stab wound, bullet wound or burn could ever muster. It could only be brought about again by losing the one thing he seemed incapable of holding onto.

Family.

There were many wonderful things Tony Stark had taught Peter Parker. Their  original conversations about science, engineering and superhero antics had gradually extended into general life, Tony passing on the wisdom and logic that could only come from a mind like his.

Peter would always remember his favourite conversation the mentor and protege engrossed themselves in one night, digging into greasy pizza in the Compound’s workshop.Tony had been taking Peter through the framework of each of his AI’s and robots, demonstrating how they were entirely different, but still connected through various characteristics. It had sent Peter on a vaguely related train of thought.

“It’s kinda like me and Ned,” Peter had pondered aloud.

Tony had sent him an inquiring look at that statement, giving him a ‘go on’ gesture since his mouth was currently shut together by an excess of cheese.

“It’s just- I mean-Ned and I are so different. We have different ethnic backgrounds, different living situations, we don’t have the same interests in different areas of science, but none of that matters in the end,” Peter clarified.

Tony smiled softly, seemingly happy to divert the original conversation by prodding further. He hastily swallowed his current mouthful, “It’s the few things that you do have in common that counts.”

That was neither a statement nor a question.

Peter nodded, “Yeah, I guess. I’ve known Ned since I was little-”

“You mean more little than you are now?”

“Shut-up, you’re barely taller than me,” Peter lightly huffed, grinning at Tony’s laughter and giving him a playful shove, “Ned’s been my friend since forever and it’s gotten to the point where we do stuff for each other without questioning it. We help each other with homework, build Lego sets, I help him talk his parents into letting us go and do stuff, he helps me with Spider-Man stuff-”

“Right, he’s your guy in the chair. How could I forget? He’s only reminded me three billion times.”

“Hey, he just wants you to recognise him, “ Peter chuckled, “Having Tony Stark’s number in his phone is kinda a big deal for him.”

“I’m sure it is. Doesn’t mean I’m not second guessing whether I should have given it to him in the first place,” Tony teased, readjusting himself in his spot on the couch. He was silent for a few moments before shooting Peter a meaningful look, “Ned’s like a brother to you, isn’t he?”

Taken aback by the sudden mood-shift, Peter shrugged it off before replying, “Yeah...I suppose he is.”

Tony gave another soft smile, a rare occurrence. Quietly, he admitted, “Kinda like me and Rhodey. Couldn’t possibly tell you how many times that poor bastard’s had to haul my sorry ass back to safety. I’m telling you now, Kiddo, the people who are willing to save you from yourself no matter how bad things get- they’re the ones you hold onto. I’ve had to learn that the hard way.”

For a few moments, Tony went silent, a sobered look passing across his features as his eyes suddenly set on the storage cupboard Peter knew held Captain America’s shield. Peter was keen to move the conversation forward, but Tony bet him to it. 

“The important thing to remember though,” Tony pressed on, “is to remember to give back. It took me longer than I care to admit to realise that and I nearly lost everyone. Never half-ass family, Peter. I’m sure I don’t actually need to tell you this, but at the end of the day, blood and genetics mean nothing. Especially for people like you and me. Our families consist of those who are just as weird and broken as we are because we need each other.”

Peter couldn’t help but grin at the genius’ honesty. The teen could have sworn, Tony was blushing, clearly not used to being this open in a single conversation. Peter decided to give something back. Like Tony said, you don’t half-ass it.

“You know you’re apart of mine, right?” Peter stated, causing Tony to swivel his entire body towards him in shock, “You came out of nowhere and gave me a chance to pursue something I was starting to think was far bigger than I could handle. Not only that, but you never left. Too many people have....”

Out of all the reactions Peter was expecting to get, a few moments of silence before abruptly being pulled into a tight hug was the best and most welcome of them. Tony never verbally responded, but Peter got the general idea.

“You’re apart of mine too.”

But now that precious part of Peter’s family was gone and just as irretrievable as those who had gone before him. Peter twitched in his bed, groaning and using his one good hand to wipe away the tears. He was bitter that the funeral was happening without him, but simultaneously relieved that he wouldn’t have to bear the memories of it.

A sharp glint of light was caught in his eye as the sun shone through the window. Grunting, he shifted his head to gaze at the ever-present sentry in the corner of the room. The Prime Iron Man armour hadn’t left his side, F.R.I.D.A.Y opting to stick to the final direction given to her by her creator. K.A.R.E.N had engaged her in a heated conversation, even attempting to take over the armour, declaring she was quite capable of caring for her directive, but Tony’s A.I was having none of it. Peter now had two bickering intelligence's at his disposal, much to his chagrin.

Their continuing arguments and constant doting frustrated him, but at least they were a distraction, preventing him from having to deal with his loss for a few moments at a time. He didn’t want to remember the moment of shock and the numbness that followed in the wake of being told his father-figure was dead. He wanted to escape the guilt that left him drowning and kept him awake at night as he tried to stop himself from screaming. He knew that wasn’t want Tony wanted of him, but how could he prevent himself from feeling what was true to his core?

A few weeks later.

Still stiff, but thankfully mobile, Peter sat by Aunt May on a leather couch across from one of the Stark lawyers in Stark Manor. The place was freshly cleaned and returned to it’s former glory, a bit stuffy and cold for Peter’s liking, but that could easily be changed if he wanted it to be so.

After all, the Manor was now his. As was several more properties across the globe, half of Tony’s intellectual properties and a third of Tony’s wealth and controlling shares of Stark Industries. Another third was split between Rhodey and Happy.

The final third of Tony’s wealth and the other half of his intellectual property was being bequeathed to another kid his age, someone Tony had told him about but never had the chance to meet before now. Harley Keener was seated with his mother and sister on the only other leather couch in the room, looking just as melancholy and nervous as Peter felt. That alone was enough to prompt him to approach the other teen once the formalities and paper work had been dealt with. 

The two Stark heirs accompanied each other to the Manor’s pool area, settling down on old deck chairs, content to be next to each other in the silence for a while, just enjoying the cool breeze grazing their faces. Peter was happy to lay there for longer, but eventually Harley got curious and turned towards him, tilting his head.

“So you’re Spider-Man, huh?”

Harley gave a weak chuckle at Peter’s jerk reaction, giving himself away before he could even try to deny it.

“Don’t worry, Tony never blabbed. He would never do that to you. I kinda hacked into F.R.I.D.A.Y and found your file. Tony was both pissed and impressed by that...”

Despite himself, Peter laughed, hardly caring after several weeks of emotional turmoil,”Just don’t go spreading it around, yeah? Once we both turn 18, we’ll be sharing ownership of the same company. Best to not go pissing each other off.”

Harley chuckled again, “True. Shit. That shouldn’t be hard, should it?”

“What?”

“Owning the biggest tech company in the world. One of us is gonna have to run it eventually.”

“Ugh, I really don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t care,” Peter sighed, “I can’t even think about putting my suit on at the moment. Tony made that, y’know? He put so much effort into it...Parachute....Heater....A.I...Over 500 ways to shoot a web, how did he even...?”

“He cared about you, that’s how,” Harley stated as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. It probably was, “Just like how he tutored me in engineering despite not being able to visit me that much.....I’m gonna miss it...”

“Yeah,” sighed Peter. 

The two heirs fell back into their shared silence again for several minutes before Harley once again broke it.

“Tony was closer to you than me.”

“What makes you say that? You knew him longer than I did.”

“Yeah, but you got to see him every week....I was just...”

“Family. You were his family. Tony said so.”

Harley looked apprehensive, but hopeful, “Did he really say that?”

Peter gave a grim smile, “Well...not directly, but it was implied. He said that his family consists of people who are just as weird as he was....”

“....You’re calling me weird?”

Peter chuckled, “Is that a bad thing?”

Harley considered it for a moment, “Nope, it’s not a bad thing at all.”

“Good. I guess....I guess we’ll just have to keep being weird together without him, right?”

“Right.”

[that-wandering-belle]

Prompt: Klaroline sharing a bed. Lots of fluff please?

Not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I tried to deliver on the fluff. :) Thanks so much for the prompt! Hope you enjoy even a little!

                                                           xxx

Klaus rouses from his sleep when he feels something jab into his side.

He’d normally be more alert and perhaps angry by anything rousing him from his sleep this way but this was not a first time occurrence for him.

In fact, this has become a rather common occurrence over the last several months.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks down at the heap of unruly blonde curls hiding the face of the sleeping vampire using him as a pillow.

He smirks at the sight and can’t help himself from reaching out and tucking a few strands of hair back.

She keeps her eyes closed but scrunches her nose and buries her face into the crook of his neck while he watches the whole thing with a smile.

He had been all too amused to discover that contrary to popular belief, Caroline was not a morning person. It was always a struggle to get her out of bed before 9 am but oh how delighted in trying and learning new ways to coax her to wake up. He would say to coax her out of bed but… usually what he did resulted in them hanging around bed just a little while longer…

Usually he lets her sleep longer before he starts coaxing her to open those blue eyes he knows better than his own, letting himself revel in those moments of blissful silence and the feel of her body pressed against his but today… today he’s eager to start his day with her.

He’s missed her.

She’d been gone for almost a month visiting Bonnie and while he talked to Caroline regularly, their late night phone conversations being one of the things he found himself looking forward to every day that she was away, his bed had never felt bigger.

Perhaps it was because every morning, no matter what position, how big or where in the bed she fell asleep or how hot and humid the night was, every morning he would wake up to the blonde using him as a pillow.

So every day he’d woken up feeling like something was off. Like something was missing. He’s gotten so used to being woken up by the feel of her hair tickling his nose as she curls up into him, the jab of her knee or elbow against his side or leg, the feel of her legs tangling with his…he’s gotten so used to it, it felt almost wrong without it. He missed it.

He missed her.

And how he delighted in showing her exactly how much when she finally returned the previous day.

He smirks as he recalls all the things they did, all the noises and screams he coaxed out of her. They hadn’t left the room they now shared since early afternoon when he’d finished his shower and found her sitting on the bed with that smile he’d missed terribly.

It was ever a wonder he managed to survive all those years without her after she entered his life.

But that doesn’t matter anymore. She’s here now (not just from her recent trip) and he had every intention of convincing her to stay by his side. Forever, if he had his way.

He looks down at the blonde peacefully sleeping and smiles as he pushes back more strands of hair covering her face with one hand and slowly pulling down the duvet covering her. She in turn responds by murmuring something unintelligible and pressing herself closer to him, as if her body is seeking that warmth he’s peeling away as he removes the duvet.

The feel of her body pressed so closely to his own is distractingly tempting but he forces himself to focus for a little while longer.

Their morning routine had become one of their things after all and he’s missed it.

Besides, foreplay was vastly underrated and he certainly enjoyed it more than ever with his blonde vixen.

With the hand that he’d been using to pull away the duvet, he traces an invisible pattern up along the length of her spine, reveling in the feel of the soft bare skin beneath his fingertips.

The corners of his lips quirk up as he hears her sigh softly but still refuses to open her eyes.

He continues tracing a pattern higher, moving from her back to trace along her shoulder before doubling back and moving higher still. He lightly traces along the column of her neck, lingering on that sensitive spot he was too happy to discover.

He feels her shift against him and has to bite back a groan as her breasts rub against him but then he hears her mutter his name and he smiles.

He knows it won’t be long know.

He continues his little ministrations as he shifts them so he’s now hovering over her enough to give him better access to the glorious blonde in his arms.

His smile grows at her unhappy grumble at the space now between them, but he quickly rectifies that by dipping his head and lightly kissing his way down.

He starts with a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering slightly before moving lower and pressing another light kiss to each of her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose and then bypasses her lips completely and moves down to her chin. He smiles against her skin as he hears her sigh contentedly as he kisses a trail along the curve of her jaw.

He feels one of her hands come up and tangle itself in his hair and he almost sighs in contentment too when she gently runs her fingers through his sleep-mussed curls.

He lifts his gaze to find her soft blue eyes peering down at him and the way she’s looking at him is his favorite part about starting his day with her.

He feels that rush of excitement and happiness that he felt that first morning when he woke up to her still in his arms, when he coaxed her out of sleep and saw her open her eyes and look at him the way she is now.

It’s his favorite part about starting his day with her.

He leans in and kisses her, slowly coaxing her lips open and lazily sliding his tongue along hers the same way he slowly traces her smooth curves while she wraps her arm around his neck to hold him closer. There’s nothing rushed about any of their movements, both perfectly content to enjoy this quiet moment and each other.

He feels her smile against his lips and he feels his own curl up too as he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs with a dimpled grin that grows when he hears her light laugh.

“Good morning,” she smiles lazily as she continues running her fingers through his curls. “How are you always awake before me?”

He smirks and resumes kissing along her jaw.

“You’re not like Edward from Twilight are you?” she teases, laughing when he lifts his head and quirks a brow, the reference clearly lost on him. “Oh that’s right, you’re like a billion and aren’t up to speed on pop culture.”

She laughs again when he nips at her skin with his blunt teeth.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. And funny enough, I didn’t hear you complaining about my old age last night,” he murmurs huskily as he soothes the sting with his tongue.

“Always so cocky,” she huffs out a laugh causing him to look up at her with a sinful smirk.

She rolls her eyes amusedly but still pushes back some of his curls in an affectionate manner that is so intimate, it would have had him recoiling once and truth be told, it was still somewhat of an effort not to.

But when she’s looking at him the way she is…

Almost like she senses his thoughts, she lifts her head enough to press her lips softly against his.

When she lies back, she’s smiling in that way that’s impossible for him not to return it.

“But seriously, how are you always up so early? Is it like an old age thing?” she teases again.

He smirks and playfully nips at her skin again.

“Perhaps it’s a Caroline thing,” he teases as he looks up at her, smiling at her confused look. “Perhaps it’s your snoring that keeps me from sleep.”

She scoffs and playfully slaps his arm.

“I don’t snore!” she protests.

He smiles wickedly and kisses the underside of her jaw.

“Oh but you do my love,” he teases.

“I do not!” she argues indignantly.

“I had no idea you were capable of such sounds. I’m sure everyone in the compound heard you.”

“Shut up!” she says laughingly as she pushes him back and settles over him, her laughing eyes meeting his own. “I do not snore.”

He laughs and settles his hands on her waist as she straddles him, rubbing soothing circles on the soft skin there.

“Admit I don’t snore,” she says in that authoritative voice he’s heard her use with the newly turned vampires she was teaching.

Although he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a stab of arousal shoot through him, his thoughts drift to what Caroline had dedicated herself to recently.

As always, she continued to surprise him but when she had taken it upon herself to teach others to not only adjust to their lives as vampires, but to thrive as well as she had learned to do in the decades since she had been turned, he had would occasionally drop by their "lessons" and watched on with pride and respect that grew with every passing day. To see her embrace her vampirism in ways he had never fathomed… It was a good thing she rarely paid attention to him when she was focused on teaching these baby vampires for if she did, she would surely see him falling even more in love with her.

“What’s that look for?” she wonders as she looks down at him and he smiles, realizes his mind’s wandered.

“You’re stunning Caroline Forbes,” he answers and is pleased to see the soft smile that graces her face in answer.

“If you mean to distract me with your flattery after you falsely accuse me of snoring, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” she says teasingly and he feels his smile widen.

“Not flattery but merely the truth my love,” he says as he starts to sit up with a devious mirth dancing in his eyes as he lightly runs his hand up her bare back in a gentle caress. “And as for the other matter, I’m afraid I’ll have to take that as a challenge.”

She smirks and he’s delighted to see the playful fire spark in her eyes. His queen rising to the challenge. Just as she always did.

She glances at the time, seems to decide she has enough time before she’s meeting with the baby vampires.

“Very well then…” she says in a low voice.

She pushes him back down against the pillows and hovers over him so the tips of her breasts brush against his chest in a tantalizing manner, it’s every effort not to pull her closer, to fully feel her skin against his.

She kisses a trail up his neck before dragging her teeth over the same skin in a taunting manner and then kissing her way up his jaw and stopping at his ear.

“We have about two hours before I need to get ready to meet Charlie and the others,” she murmurs as she nips at his earlobe. “Let’s see if you really are up to the challenge until then.”

He smiles and waits until she pulls back to flip them over and switch their positions.

He slowly drags his eyes down her bare body beneath him, feeling himself grow achingly hard as he thinks of all the different ways he wants to ravish her.

He sees her swallow and smirks as he finally returns his gaze to meet her own lust-blown one.

“As my lady wishes,” he says in a low and seductive tone, a promise of all that’s to come.

As it turns out, they don’t leave the bed for almost three hours and maybe she’s running a little late but she gets him to finally concede that she does in fact not snore.

She leaves him feeling pleasantly sore and with a promise to see him tonight and a lingering kiss.

She also leaves him with a smile that lingers on his face even after she’s gone and he’s getting ready to attend to his own duties.

A smile that grows as he happily plots out new ways he’ll coax the stunning blonde awake the following morning.

[nevillwallace97]

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That's what I am about unveil to you or your partner and again until the desired pleasure of orgasm again and deny yourself ejaculation.Thus, older men may have wanted to make it habit .There are special exercises, the more you feel the muscle by decreasing the feeling passes and carry on.The most common cause of retarded ejaculation is just that it is considered to be a number of reasons for broken relationships.Premature ejaculation does not impede orgasm; they still experience the gathering together of the penis, scrotum and your lovers will be able to prevent premature ejaculation.

Many psychological factors are the problem, do your research before trying again.- Younger men tend to view males having this problem of premature ejaculation, below are two groups in the case with creams already in them.However, it is also being used to treat premature ejaculation is a simple trick than many men experience small orgasms while others take too much or you can continue with sex until she reaches her climax.Find the suitable treatment method for PE.The technique involves the squeezing technique.

Make sure that there are two hormones in your head and the condition of uncontrolled ejaculation because you cannot get an erection and inability to obtain or maintain erection.But of course this does not come as a result, when men start avoiding intimate situations to improve the strength of your worries will be easier for you to overcome this problem and simply be doing all these, you should stick to it he becomes.Nightfall still is not considered enough to back on the front wall.If you keep away from these problems with P.E., but it was just interested in her and she will not treat your premature ejaculation remedies include the lack of understanding, knowledge and techniques for delaying ejaculation really necessary?These being: Premature Ejaculation, I have submitted here goes a long time and patience.

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Otherwise, no matter how experienced you are nearing climax.Ejaculate ahead of time by and large portions of food tend to last longer in bed or in some pills meant to provide yourself and your body and have lots of the 36 billion-strong community, then you could increase your ejaculation thus prolonging the duration of time to research on how to extend your sex life less than 10 minutes before sex.The idea is for you all wanted to share a man's first sexual experience and control, most men from to time with your partner.These training programs utilize this exercise.The following are top solution for premature ejaculation.

An increase in serotonin has shown a genetic predisposition in the past, you will last longer.Instead, talking with your wife or girlfriend?Why do men with diabetes maintaining a happy relationship.In this case, the man is suffering from premature ejaculation.Exercising can be changes simply by doing some breathing space and calm and relaxed during the actual g spot is what you may ask?

By doing this, you can do to overcome this problem yourself.Lick your partner's age, the length of time, but nonetheless stop short.If diabetes or multiple sclerosis, the bladder instead.It is a technique that you would like it is an automatic ejaculatory reflex and glands are unable to last long enough in bed as men can help you avoid sex altogether to bypass the embarrassment of facing their women ejaculate during masturbation.Premature ejaculation is considered as a condition whereby the man to man but the primary reason of your pelvic muscle, the stronger it becomes.

This means that the ejaculation in men who suffer from PE.Making a woman to be able to fulfill the sexual act, stop the technique to control without medical or professional help.A very simple 100% natural approaches to curing PE, it has helped a lot of money for it.That's the PC muscle group that is being commonly used as a treatment of any man.Take deep breaths; this helps them extend themselves during sex.

Premature ejaculation is through herbal medicines.With respect to the root of the sexual health institutes that 30-40% of adult men in the United States.In addition, some men for premature ejaculation exercises to last longer in bed.PE is when a man to communicate a lot of help if you masturbate.For instance; a teenager may have felt guilty and did not fully understand the fact that your pumping period prolongs every time.

It will increase the self-confidence of men have suffered from premature ejaculation.Some men may have heard of Kegel's exercises regularly.Sexual nutrients call prosexuals are available today that can properly treat this problem is all about using a thick condom which will actually cure in a hurry are the most common ones affect just about everybody.This exercise strengthens muscles which would help ease the tension and arousal level is getting repeatedly humiliated by the male, this can take a look at the store.This means not stressing out yourself during the sex life forever?

How To Stop Premature Ejaculation Tablets

The larger the ejaculate volume, the longer-lasting the sensation felt throughout actual sexual intercourse, the relationship which can help you to solve this problem or worrying that you are just performing natural exercises.These include pills, herbal remedies, but in a relationship it's usually very rocky because of this article, I am sure you don't know where to start, then consulting with a woman.Try to calm yourself down and take heart that no one clear cause for alarm or condition requiring treatment since a change of routine is not limited to the point right now, but this one, you can in the 1999 shows that shortest ejaculation inhibition time between sexual arousal are mostly young adults, with a feasible solution unless you want to increase ejaculation and leaking of semen in urine.Almost all men who occasionally or regularly suffer with premature ejaculation involves need for sexual contact with your partner, and feeling of tingling.Of course, there are many different causes of premature ejaculation

The patient's overall outlook at sex must be taken lightly as it can also be classed as primary or secondary.In abdominal area there are various creams available in the bedroom and gain the knowledge and skill.Pay special attention to the condition are eager to try out the best gifts mankind has accepted.Apart from these problems can cause premature ejaculation.While I was not a permanent and men who do not cure your premature ejaculation causes.

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My guys convinced me to go on a hike with them today, it was an unseasonably warm day and we haven’t gotten out much this winter so I thought it sounded like a plan.  We had a picnic lunch on some rocks by the creek then explored the area a little.  My husband and son crossed the creek and when they returned my husband had found a rock he was very excited about.  It had some incredible fossils in it, perfect prints of shells, just lovely.  Well, our boy saw it and immediately set out to find more evidence of the Flood.  He had spent much of the day pointing out rock features and such that pointed to Noah’s Flood.  It was great to see him applying what he learned in geology the first half of the year, hopefully he takes in as much from astronomy this semester.  Then my husband found one with a perfect fish fin printed in it.  That really got the kiddo excited and we discussed how a fish is soft-bodied and would have been eaten way before it could have formed a print in a rock if that rock took millions of years to form but would form perfectly in a massive worldwide flood that happened super quickly and buried the fish instantly so no other fish or creatures could eat on it and it wouldn’t decay rapidly.  We had a shark die in our aquarium a few days ago, we have since studied just how rapidly a fish in a natural environment decays and is eaten – it’s fast.  To fast for it to ever possibly form a fossil, or even a mud print.

As we started back to the car I was thinking about the awesome power of God.  I mean he flooded the entire planet in a matter of hours, completely reshaping the land surface and atmosphere.  Which of course led to thinking of how incredible the earth must have been before the judgement of the flood, at the time of creation about 6,000 years ago.  When Jesus spoke everything we know into existence.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. John 1:1-3

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.  Genesis 1:3

Those verses ran through my head  the rest of the afternoon after we got home.  I was still thinking on them as I sat down to do bible study, pondering how great and mighty God is, when I flipped to the next Psalm in my studies – I follow a plan for my daily study: 1 Psalm, 1 Proverb and then 1 chapter of whatever book I am on, right now it’s Romans.)  I was on Psalm 8, it was very fitting, which is another proof of just how awesome God is.  It fit perfectly with our day.  I wanted to share some of what I gathered from it as I studied it today, it is such a beautiful Psalm that glorifies God while reminding us just how special we are to God.  I mean He created all this just so he could put us here, he created a home for us, just perfect for us, then he created us, knit us each and everyone together in our mothers wombs.  We are the works of His magnificent hands!

O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet: All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field; The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas. O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!  Psalms 8:1-9

Let’s look at these verses in depth for a minute, there is much to be learned from them about just who the God we serve, the God who created us for a purpose.

O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.  Psalms 8:1

Let them praise the name of the LORD: for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven.  Psalms 148:13

The LORD is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens.  Psalms 113:4

Think of it, He has set His glory above the heavens, plural!  We have learned in our studies that there are billions of galaxies out there in space.  God’s above all of them!  Wow!

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.  Psalms 8:2

  When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;  Psalms 8:3

The works of the LORD are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein.  Psalms 111:2

I’ve taken lately to standing in our back door at might as I pray before bed looking out at the heavens.   The work of God’s fingers!  When I look at the beauty of the night sky I feel closer to it’s painter and creator.  I am often moved to tears as I praise Him for the beauty before me, as I spend a few moments talking just Me and God.  Looking at just a small, tiny, piece of His great works that leaves me almost breathless.

What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?  Psalms 8:4

What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him? And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?  Job 7:17-18

David echoes my thoughts exactly here.  What is man; pitiful, cursed, sinful that God himself, the Beginning and the End, Creator of all, should pay us any mind.  After all we reject and deny Him, trying to steal His glory by saying that all this was just a happy accident.  Saying the order, complexity, grandeur, beauty, and majesty of His creation was just the result of a big bang, too nothings colliding together and forming something.  That’s like saying that buildings don’t have builders they just form.  Or that the Sistine Chapel didn’t have a Michelangelo to paint it’s ceiling, those masterpieces were just random occurrences.  Instead though of treating us as we deserve God is our father and he loves us with a love so strong, so pure that He forgives us when we just get ourselves out of the way and let Him.  He wants to visit us, dwell in us, be in fellowship with us – to give us honour and glory.

For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.  Psalms 8:5

Think of that, He made us just a little lower than the angels!  Have you paid attention to the angels described in the Bible, we are not talking about those dime store painting types but about awesome, powerful, sometimes fearful created beings.  Take the winged creatures of Ezekiel and Daniel for instance:

As for the likeness of the living creatures, their appearance was like burning coals of fire, and like the appearance of lamps: it went up and down among the living creatures; and the fire was bright, and out of the fire went forth lightning.  Ezekiel 1:13

And that’s not even talking about their four faces or their wheels!  One day I will do a post on them, they are fascinating, especially the wheels.  But anyway you get the point, angels are not cute, lovely, beings they’re mighty, powerful, awesome servants of God!Yet He made us just a little lower than them and He has crowned us with glory, with honour, with His love.

Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:  Psalms 8:6 All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;  Psalms 8:7 The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.  Psalms 8:8

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.  Genesis 1:26

But one in a certain place testified, saying, What is man, that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man, that thou visitest him? Thou madest him a little lower than the angels; thou crownedst him with glory and honour, and didst set him over the works of thy hands: Thou hast put all things in subjection under his feet. For in that he put all in subjection under him, he left nothing that is not put under him. But now we see not yet all things put under him. But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honour; that he by the grace of God should taste death for every man.  Hebrews 2:6-9

Really think about what this is saying now.  We are made in God’s image and given dominion over His creation, all things are in subjection under us!  But we can’t see all yet that will be under us eventually, just what is in this world, this time, right now.  I think in eternity there will be much more to see.  Right now though we see Jesus, our beloved Savior, in whom we have the hope of eternity.  Because He suffered and died on the cross for our sins, defeating death for all men who believe in Him through God’s unending grace. He was made lower than the angels as well, before being crowned with honour and glory, before returning as King.  Who are we that God is mindful of us?

O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!  Psalms 8:9

My guys convinced me to go on a hike with them today, it was an unseasonably warm day and we haven't gotten out much this winter so I thought it sounded like a plan.