#what else to file this under hmm

[cursivebloodlines]

Dougie’s backstory is one of the most amazing I’ve seen and read and can’t wait to read the others of your handsome men. I’m all ears. What can you tell me about Dougie in a few sentences? His personality and what he does.

omg i'm literally still so shocked to be receiveing the loveliest messages like this??? would you like my heart? ITS YOURS that's genuinely so aaaaa omg.also i absolutely meant to post this last night but my brain was like SLEEP and i forgot all about it until hopping on my laptop just now. but tysm!!!! <3

right so Doug! okokok what can i say about doug. i'm so sorry if this is not what you asked for but my brain is a mishmash of everything HAHAHA.

looks like a cinnamon roll, is actually a cinnamon roll

has too many cardigans for his own good tbh. when he's on a downer he has a very specific one that he'll wear, an indicator he's veering towards a depressive episode. that cardigan will be on him for days on end without removing it. it's just a comfort thing for him and something to keep him tethered to reality i guess

still a v soft person despite of all the shit he's been through. though this does leave him with a barrel of insecurities which he still quite obviously struggles with today. is an actual teddy bear, has a lot of love to give and just wnats to give it!!! to anyone who allows him

should probably come with a warning that says: FRAGILE. HANDLE WITH CARE.

will do anything for anyone but this also leaves people to easily take advantage of him, even if sometimes they don't mean to. he has become a bit better than that over the years but old habits die hard x

would probably lose in a fight

is working his dream job as a veternarian <3 eventually he wants to open up his own rescue shelter and look after all the pets aaaaa he would be so content with that omg.

classic overthinker fr and too sensitive for his own good but nobody's perfect!

honestly i could go on about him all day dgkjsgsdg he's my darling and probably most developed character out of them all, bless him. he's just Trying His Best ya know? i hope this is helpful for you i'm sorry if it's nonsensical i just!!! he's Baby. thank you so much again for the lovely words!! makes my day <3 hope you're having a wonderful day!!

[shivunin]

Ohhhhh oh how about "One talking to the other when they think they're asleep" for Maria and Fenris pretty please?

Thank you for the prompt! <3 I had to ponder this a bit, but I am happy with the results c:

("Sharing a bed" prompts here; I am still open c:)

(Also, please forgive my rusty Latin; it's been eight years since I've had to actually use it for anything more than a party trick. I've also fiddled with the translation below for flow. Apologies to the memory of Catullus)

Tevene/Latin:

Tuus sum: I am yours

Corpus animaque: Body and soul

Placideque quiescas: Rest well and peacefully

Fenris/Maria Hawke | 1,138 Words | No warnings

Corpus Animaque

"Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and the rumors of rather stern old men let us value all at just one penny! Suns may set and rise again; for us, when once the brief light has set, an eternal night must be slept. Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then yet another thousand, then a hundred; then, when we have performed many thousands, we shall stir them into confusion, so that we might not know, and in order not to let any wicked person envy us, when he knows that our kisses number so many." ---Catullus 5*

“Say something in Tevene,” Hawke had murmured to him perhaps half an hour ago. 

Fenris, who was now well versed in what Hawke sounded like when she was trying to force herself to stay awake, had obliged. He’d taught her hello and goodbye, then described the room at length in disinterested tones, all the while allowing his voice to grow ever quieter. Maria slept deeply now, her cheek pillowed on her arm atop the pillow, and Fenris let his head rest on its side so he could watch her. 

It had been strange to speak the tongue of his birth with her—odd, like two halves of his life twining when he’d expected them to be forever as water and oil. There was something, though, in speaking to Maria when he knew she could not understand him. Fenris pondered this for a time, listening to the crackle of the fire at her hearth and the soft whistle of her sleeping breath. 

“Cor mea,” Fenris murmured after a moment: my heart, a simple enough endearment.

Hawke did not stir. She’d rested her hand near his shoulder, as she often did, and he’d obligingly twined his fingers with hers. Fenris set his other hand over both now, cradling her hand between his. 

There were things he ought to say to her. He knew that. But even now, when he was certain there would be no leaving her, words of love refused to slip easily from his lips. Not in the common tongue; not even in the one he’d spoken for most of his life. 

Not his own words; perhaps the words of others would come to him more easily. 

“Vivamus, mea Maria, atque amemus,” he murmured, feeling the pulse at her wrist where it pressed against his, ���rumoresque senum severiorum onmes unius aestemimemus assis.”

Maria pulled her hair back in a red silk scarf when she slept. It prevented her hair from tangling too badly in the night and kept either of them from rolling onto her bounty of curls while they slept. Now, a small curl had snuck from its confines just below her ear, threatening to tickle the sensitive skin and wake her. Fenris lifted one hand and tucked it back with the rest, moving slowly and carefully. Hawke did not stir, for which he was grateful. There was more yet to say. 

“Soles occidere et redire possunt;” Fenris went on, “nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux, nox est perpetua una dormienda.” 

An eternal night indeed; they had, both of them, seen enough of death to last several lifetimes. Her pulse thrummed steadily against his own, as if in sweet answer to the unspoken undertone to the words. They were alive now, the two of them; whatever rest they might share tonight was not that long rest, but the blink of an eye in the span of their days.

There will be other nights, she’d told him once. He dwelled too heavily on dreadful possibilities now. While she still slept…let him finish this, at least. 

Fenris spoke the rest of the words—give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand—meaning each of them as he spoke. They were not his words; they were borrowed from someone he’d never met. Even so, they seemed intended for something like this: a room that held only the two of them, an unusually clear night in Kirkwall which showed the stars clearly through her bedroom window, and the gradually softening light from the fire that kept them warm. Such words should be exchanged in whispers and the touches of hands, intended only for a lover’s ears.

It felt wrong to end with the poem, but Fenris didn’t have to cast about for something to end with. There were other words he’d told her before, words he’d conveyed in a dozen different ways if not a hundred. He’d seen her concern when he’d said them the first time—I am yours—as if she was worried about why he might say that. As if she thought he’d somehow conflated her with those who would have owned him once.

The whole of it was too much to explain, too strange to say aloud: if I may at last choose what to do with my life, I choose to give it to you. I would give all of myself to you if I could, because you would never ask me to, because you have insisted on seeing me as a person from the first moment we met. 

Too formal. 

Too many possible hidden meanings, when he’d first said the words to her in those bruised days after that disastrous night together. Fenris had chosen the easiest ones instead of the explanation, willing to risk her concern in exchange for some level of understanding. 

It was easier now; he could say them with more affection, and she’d returned the words more than once. They meant something different when Hawke said them, but that had never bothered him. 

“Tuus sum,” Fenris told her now, the words feeling firmer in this language, more binding—though the weight of them was a comfortable one, words and bonds he’d chosen rather than ones that had been chosen for him. 

“Corpus animaque,” Fenris finished, his voice hardly more than a whisper, “placideque quiescas, cor mea.”

It seemed fitting, somehow, to dip his head and kiss her hand then. If he were less tired, he may have considered why such an implicit vow had felt necessary. Matters had passed tense in Kirkwall weeks ago and slid unstoppably toward some imminent danger. Fenris could not smooth her way; he could not fight her battles for her. 

But he could hold her hand in the night, and whisper to her of kisses and days to come. He could stay by her side as long as she would allow him. 

As long as there was strength in his arms, as long as he could stand with her, he believed he would see her safe. He had never been an optimist; if pressed, he would not wager on their odds. 

But Hawke—he believed in her. If anyone could navigate them out of this disaster, it was her.

“Mea cor,” he said one more time, setting her hand back over his chest with exquisite care. 

The time for words had passed. It was past time for rest. Fenris looked at Hawke once more before he closed his eyes, tracing the shadows of her face, the softness of her eyelids, the unfading smile lines on either side of her mouth. When he’d looked his fill for now (only for now; it could never be enough for forever, as he knew well), Fenris closed his eyes at last. 

It was much longer before his focus slipped from the steady pulse in her wrist and Fenris fell asleep at last.

*Base source for translation: Wikipedia

(I know, there are prettier versions elsewhere, but it's nearly one am and i don't want to look)

[okiedokrie]

[12:22]

Summary: You weren’t really a fan of oral; your boyfriend, Junhui, treats this as a personal challenge.

Characters/Pairing: Wen Junhui (Jun) X F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, crack, porn without plot

AU/Trope info: Established relationship

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Swearing, oral (fem receiving), nicknames (baby, babe, honey, love)

Rating: 18+

A/N: reupload from old blog, did not plagiarize, pastel blue divider by @okiedokreations

“YOU WHAT?!”

Junhui exclaimed in complete shock, extremely discombobulated, absolutely flabbergasted, at the sequence of words that left your lips at that moment. He felt backstabbed, betrayed that the love of his life would ever say such horrible things to him. He couldn’t believe his ears, and he prayed to the heavens to give him a sign that it was some sick and twisted joke, the thought of you being 100% serious and unironic made his stomach drop to his ass.

“Look, Jun, all I’m saying is that I just don’t like oral that much-” You try to calm him down, your boyfriend being one for the theatrics, one of the most dramatic people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s usually pretty calm about discussions in opinions, especially preferences in the bedroom, but apparently, your dislike of oral was his breaking point.

“You don’t understand- baby, how could you be so cruel to me?” His voice calmed down to a broken whisper, his eyes gazing over with a layer of tears as he dramatically wiped his non-existent tears with an ornately embroidered lacey silk handkerchief. (Where he got it is still a complete mystery.)

“Look, Junhui, if you’re really hung up about it I don’t mind participating if you really like it, it's just that if given the option, I wouldn’t miss oral all that much.” You say as you try to negotiate, this compromise only seemed to upset him more.

“But- but then you won't be enjoying it too! I want it to be enjoyable for both of us and I’ll feel really bad about it if you just do it to make me happy.” He said, still on the verge of tears.

“Hmm, okay fine, I’ll give you a chance to convince me to change my mind.” You say, finally, this seems to calm him down, looking up from his fancy handkerchief with a twinkle in his round boba eyes. You really can't resist him when he hits you with the twinkly, round boba eyes.

“Quick- take your pants off!”

You grip the sheets that rest under your palms as your shyness kicks in, so see the top of your boyfriend's head as you feel his hot palms glide down your thighs to rest on your knees, you make eye contact with him, the intensity of his look shot hot sparks down to your core. His hands grip your knees, gently prying them apart, the way he looked at your heat with such a heated and lustful gaze made you whine.

His pink tongue peeks out from between his plush lips, you feel a small gust of air when he moved closer to your pussy, his excited movement disturbing the air. You feel his hair and the warm skin of his cheeks tickles your inner thighs as he settles between them, still intensely looking at your cunt.

“I can’t believe you almost wouldn’t let me taste this.” He says lowly, his hot breath on your pussy making you clench around nothing, just then, he places a small, light peck on the hood of your clit, and you sigh, the tension of anticipation finally being released.

He continued placing light and wet kisses on your clit, each one met with a sigh or a moan, his warm hands still gripping your thighs as he savors your wetness on his lips.

He finally latches his lips on your clit, sucking on it softly, moaning when you thread your fingers through his hair with a tug, he breathes in, taking in your scent as his eyes roll back behind his head, almost making his eyes appear all white. He presses his face closer to your core, quickly losing all his composure as he loses himself in your taste.

His eyes glaze over in a lust-filed haze, he’s not thinking of anything else other than eating you like a starved man, kneeling before you in reverent worship of your pussy. His wet and rough tongue licks a fat, flat stripe up your slit as he moans again, from you tugging his locks again, and also seemingly getting off to eating you out.

You feel the tip of his tongue probing your entrance, your breath catching in the middle of a moan, anticipation brewing in your stomach for what’s to come next.

A gasp leads to a moan as his tongue finally penetrates you, his tongue extending to brush against the spongey spot inside of you, the tip of his skilled tongue curling up to brush and caress that spot with more pressure.

You’re not holding back anymore, gripping onto Junhui’s hair so tightly as if to anchor yourself, you hold him in place as you buck your hips into his face, his jaw going slack as he whines and moans, his eyelids hooding his eyes but you can see how blown-out his pupils are.

His head is pleasantly empty, he wants nothing more than to stay in that position forever.

He coaxes you into your first orgasm of the night, the tight cord inside you snapping in white-hot pleasure, your back arching off the sheet with a silent moan. Your vision blacking out from the intensity.

You can feel Junhui kissing along your inner thighs as you come back to earth, making eye contact with him, he gives you a lewd but soft smile, “I’m here love, come back to me, honey.” He whispers so softly into your skin, looking at your expression with a content smile. “You did so well for me, love.” His airy voice and words of praise sink into your skin, engulfing you in a warm and fuzzy glow as you look back down at your boyfriend, “Did I manage to change your mind?” He says, looking very proud of the mess he’s made of you, you only give him a suggestive smile back.

“It was good, but I don’t think you’ve convinced me yet. Could we go again?” You say, a bit out of breath but still cheeky. He gives you another elated smile, the kind that you see when he sees a street cat.

“I don’t mind that at all, lay down for me honey.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Ch 10 part 1

masterpost

“Tyranny!” Damian bellowed. His little face was red with fury.

Cass crossed her arms and nodded agreement. She was not accepting any more changes to her life at this time. Things were already happening, too much.

“Nevertheless,” said cruel Batdad. “The pediatric nutritionist will be here tomorrow.” He was trying very hard to seem composed and unaffected by their upset. But he was affected. So affected. And yet he persisted on traveling down the wrong path.

Cass hissed.

Their natural ally, Alfred, put his nose up a little as he cleared the dinner dishes. He sniffed as he left, unhappy-stiff. Cass did not know how he had been defeated. Food was his domain, not some interloper with a pathetic weepy Doctorate of nutritional sciences.

“He designs the meal plans for child Olympians,” Batdad coaxed. He wanted them to like him soooo much. “Standard advice is not necessarily very useful for extreme athletes. You might feel better afterwards. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Gentle, gentle, pleading.

No!!!

Damian stabbed his fork upright into his cinnamon roll and pointed an index finger at their tormentor. “I will not submit. I consume an adequately varied and nutritious diet. Whatever your true aims are, I will not be moved.”

Cass scarfed down her own dessert messily, scowling at Batdad the whole time as if to say: come and take it from me. Can you? You can’t.

Duke watched this with clever eyes darting between Batdad and his siblings. His body said: I don’t care. But I won’t pick Bruce publicly. What can I get? Can I make trouble? 

Hmm. Cass didn’t like that. She narrowed her eyes at him. He should philosophically agree with their cause. She was going to crawl under his bed and hiss, scary sounds to wake him up and go BOO. 

She made a mental note to do that before patrol tonight. If she could even fit it in, jeeze.

Ugh. So busy. Always so much to do.

The tension was high when they trooped to the cave for briefing, before Duke went to bed and everyone else took their pre-patrol nap. Cass lingered sullenly because she wanted to hear Duke’s report on the mechanic. Jacqueline’s apartment had been sneakily snuck through. The conclusion?

“There’s a lot of work clothes in the apartment, but no tools or anything like that. No references or books, aside from a couple of ones from the university library.” Duke fidgeted, micromovement. Not an interesting report. Not an enjoyable detour. “There’s no indication as to what she’s been working on. I took DNA samples off some dirty dishes and hair off the sofa. They’re filed for processing.”

Disappointing. The next step was unclear. Cass frowned. Should they try to observe again? Wait for Jacqueline to leave her lair and follow? Perhaps they should enter the apartment and lurk, ask questions. Tell her: We know your criminal associations. Stop it. Stop it, Jacqueline.

Damian stuck his lips out. He would say: This is not a pout, Cain.

It was a pout.

“I see.” Timbird took notes, fingers flying. Tap tap tap. “You’re passing the case back?”

“It’s all yours,” he said, nodding to Damian. Babybat nodded solemnly. My responsibility. He looked at her. Cass nodded: I have your bat-back. Let’s creep on Jacqueline, as a family.

Hmm. It was too quiet. Usually, there was Batdad commentary. She snuck a look at him even though she and Damian were ignoring him for his cruelties.

Batdad was pondering. He was paying enough attention, but his mind was on something else. Hmm. Cass prodded him. “Ah- Tim, did you upload your conclusions about the Amity Park case?”

Oh. Cass kept her body still, letting it say: I’m bored, I don’t care.

Timbird sighed and ruffled his hair. The gel made a little crackle sound. “It’s a massive government coverup,” he said. Unhappy. “I think a few residents fled, but it looks like it was a mass murder of the residents. The tank tracks came from a subdivision called the GIW, which is ridiculously over militarized.” He opened a file on one of the many Batcomputer screens. It showed a complex of buildings, taken from above. Superboy photography? “They’re doing weapons development, and it appears to be based on the designs of local scientists, also missing.”

“These scientists were affiliated with the GIW?” Batdad asked.

Tim shrugged. “Unclear.” His mouth twitched, unhappy. “There’s evidence of some collaboration, but it seemed a relatively normal exchange of information. Now, the GIW appears to have all their patented inventions and is replicating them.”

“So either these scientists are on staff or they have been removed,” Damibat scowled. A grumpy line formed between his eyebrows. So cute. 

“Removed?” Duke repeated, amused.

“From this mortal coil,” Damibat repeated. Impatient. Keep up, Thomas.  Haha. Cass sniggered and stuck her tongue out. Yeah. Keep up, Duke.

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part 15

Hoooooooooold onto your hats people as it is about to get SPICYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!

No minors as this is all gonna be smutty!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

TRIGGER WARNING: smut, 18+, p in v, other sexual shenanigans, first time I’ve written smut so that is a warning in itself!

Now you thought it would be weird kissing him – the whole TV screen as a head did slightly put you off from trying to kiss him but it wasn’t like you thought it would be. His face wasn’t flat and hard like a screen but instead was soft and you’d say almost 3D like. His tongue slipped into your own mouth as his fingers dug into your sides. Yep. Definitely not flat like a screen. Rubbing yourself up against him and bathing in the groan he released, you couldn’t help but wonder.

You wondered what else wasn’t flat like a screen on the rest of him and how you couldn’t wait to find out.

Fingers clutching hold of Vox’s shoulders you push yourself even closer to his body. Those cold claw-like fingers of his were warming up as they run down your thighs, squeezing here and there making small moans and squeaks escape your mouth. Smirking against his lips when you hear his motors start to run loudly, more so when you grind against his lap where something was hardening. You pull away from his lips taking a much-needed breath. Those half-lidded eyes of his gazed up at you, claws digging into your thighs making you wriggle on his lap. “Should we be concerned that you’re about to overheat sweetie?” You tease the Overlord. Watching his screen glitch a little before that dangerous smile graced his face again.

“Do you think you’re that good to make me overheat, Sweetheart?” That charismatic voice of his was echoing with static. Hot!

“One way to find out”, seeing your teasing sneer he chuckled darkly before his two hands gripped you under your thighs and rose out of his chair. Squeaking a little in surprise that one he could lift you so easily and two that he could surprise you quite so easily, you wrap your legs around his trim waist while anchoring your arms around his shoulders.

“Mmm… I love those little noises you make … I can’t wait to hear you make more” He whispers into your ear as he takes a few steps towards his desk. One hand disappears from your thigh, hearing a lot of crashing before you are then placed on the top of his now clear desk. A quick peek to your side shows you all the files, documents and some VokTek that used to be on the desktop. Hmm, this was definitely a side of Vox that you liked. Speaking of him, he was now above you once again. So much for you being the one in control. Oh well. His one hand left your thigh to rove up your body making you shiver before it came to rest gently under your chin, a soft tap to it made you raise your chin to look up into his eyes. Noticing that his usual blue screen had a tinge of pink round the edges, but those eyes were laser focused on your own. “Tell me now Sweetheart if you don’t want this, because once we start, we will not be finishing until you are so cock drunk you won’t be able to say a word other than my name”.

Licking your bottom lip you take a deep breath. If you did this there was no going back. No going back to your normal life. Those deals you’ve made may have changed your life but this, this was going to cross the line into more dangerous territory. And you couldn’t fucking wait.

“Promises, promises Voxie” your taunting got cut off as that gentle hand under your chin was now suddenly around your throat and your body was being slammed backwards onto the desk with Vox hovering over you with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“It’s a good job I enjoy your bratty behaviour Y/n, but the others won’t appreciate the lip sweetheart”, his lips were back on your own taking away your breath as did his hand when he gave it a practice squeeze from around your throat. Feeling the slick between your thighs you can’t help but flush at how turned on you were already and he had hardly touched you. Speaking of touching, his one hand stayed around your throat putting a little pressure on it every so often while the other one was ripping off your robe from your shoulders. Shimmying your shoulders to help he purred into your mouth, his tongue wrapping around your own as he threw your robe to the floor and started pulling your pyjama top up and over your head. Pulling away, he gazes down at your chest that was only covered by your lacy bra and groans under his breath. Sliding your hands up his clothed chest you pout slightly at him.

“What’s wrong Songbird?” he murmurs against your pout.

“You are far too overdressed for what we are about to do”, he chuckles at you as he starts to unbutton his shirt at a rapid speed. You open your legs a little wider so he can settle better between them, moaning under your breath when his hardened member in his trousers rubbed you just right. Lowering your hands you help divest him of his belt, managing to unbuckle it on the first go for once in your undead (and alive) life. Both of you quickly shove his trousers down, admiring the bulge in his boxers you squeak a little as Vox rips your shorts down your legs. A small groan escaped his chest as he realised you weren’t wearing any panties. He gazed down at you laid across his work desk, a possessive gleam sparkled in his eyes and you just know you are fucked. If you thought you’d be getting away from this deal without a fuss – you’d be stupid.

Being pulled back into the moment as Vox yanked you further off the table, he knelt down in front of you putting both your legs over his shoulders. Your eyes met for a moment before that wicked grin grew, a quick wink at you before he leant down and the only word you can use is that it felt like he was devouring you. Throwing your head back panting slightly, you moan Vox’s name as you feel his long-wet tongue slip through your folds. Reaching out with your hands to clasp onto his screen you suddenly felt two thick wires connect to your wrists and yank them above your head. Confused you look down at Vox, those wicked eyes just blinked back at you as his one finger creeped over your hip and down to your clit; rubbing it slowly in a few small circles making your hips wiggle.

Moans and whimpers escaped your lips as his finger and tongue worked faster, the noise of his groaning and the wet sounds making your toes curl and throw you closer and closer to the edge before he slowed down. Annoyed you look down at him again as you calm down, frustrated you wriggle your hips making him dig his fingers into your thighs probably causing some bruises for tomorrow. A few more moments like that he quickens his pace once again, you clench your fists around air still trapped by the wires and moan his name begging him to let you cum. A small chuckle escaped him before you felt almost an electric current run through his finger that was on your clit making you lurch up from the desk and the most intense orgasm rip through your body. Luckily Vox held onto you as you came back down, panting against the desk as he shifted himself up above you, wires releasing your hands.

Quirking an eyebrow at you, he checks your wrists while you gather your wits.

“Did you just electrocute me?”

“A little – think of it more as a power surge—” you cut him off, dragging his screen down to you and lock lips with him. Humming into your mouth, his fingers stroke your waist and pull your legs around his own hips. Your thighs didn’t rub against any material so you figure that he must have taken off his boxers at some point. Running your hand down his chest to where a pretty hefty package was waiting for you, feeling your own eyebrows raise in shock. Hopefully it would all fit. He must have felt you pause for a moment as he drew away, eyes flicking down to where your hand was now slowly moving up and down then back up to your face before he smirked. Rolling your own eyes, you give his cock a squeeze making him groan under his breath. Cocky bastard.

Sliding his cock up and down your wet pussy, making sure to rub the head against your clit you lay back against the desk as you line him up against your opening. A quick nod to Vox, he starts to push in slowly, rocking his hips so only the first inch or two enter you. Throwing back your head you moan at the stretch. You know it had been basically a whole lifetime for you since you had sex but boy was this demon big. Your hands were scratching down his chest without your knowledge, but soon were stopped when those wires reappeared and slammed them back above your head.

Rocking harder against your hips, he slipped a few more inches into you. Groaning against the skin of your breasts, muttering about how tight you were. A couple more thrusts and finally he bottomed out with a chesty grunt. You huff out a breath and wriggle your hips a little to get used to the full feeling of being stretched. Vox let you wiggle all you wanted for a moment before he reached down and grabbed your hips with both hands. Slowly pulling out you gasp at the feel of the drag of his cock against your walls before he roughly thrusts back in.

That was just the start. He started thrusting hard against you like a man possessed, one hand raising to wrap itself around your throat while the other one alternated from holding your hip and circling your clit – as soon as you started getting close to the edge he would go back to holding your hip. It was infuriating but any snarky comments were completely lost to you as all you could pronounce was his name, harder and please.

“Please what sweetheart?” His fingers squeeze your throat at the same time as a hard thrust making you lose your voice for a moment. Flushing you try again to beg him to let you come as his finger starts circling your clit again.

“Are you sure that’s what you want Y/n?” Nodding you try to raise your hands to grab him but are held back by the wires again.

“Please, please Vox, baby, please I beg you!” You must have sounded so pathetic and if anyone ever heard you like this apart from Vox (or the other two Vee’s) you’d be so incredibly embarrassed but at this point in time you really didn’t give a fuck.

Chuckling breathily from his thrusts he starts to circle your clit quicker: “you beg so prettily sweetheart, okay my good girl, cum for me”. With that he did that little electric trick once more which had you seeing stars and screaming out his name as hot thrumming pleasure surges through your body; electric type shocks going to the tips of your fingers and toes. The fingers on your throat grow tighter and you hear Vox groan and feel his cum inside of you. Letting go of your neck he rests both hands either side of your head, gazing down at you. Both of you panting in time with each other with matching smiles.

“So how do you feel?” He asks, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“Not too bad actually—” He hums a little, those wires on your wrists tug you up so your arms were now around his shoulders and that devilish wicked smirk is back on his screen: “hmm nope you can still say other words, I promised you we wouldn’t stop until the only word you can say is only my name!”

Oh boy, was the only thing you could think as he sat back down on his chair with you now above him.

Oh boy indeed.

TagList:

@tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda

@the-maladaptivedaydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzler

@ace-spades-1 @iamferalfordilfs

@justgiulia @kittycatkrissa @qu1cks1lversb1tch @martinys-world @superwholatacohunters @mysticvoide

@rosiethevoxobesser

@skullhorn59 @sarcastic-sourwolf

@samanthastarss @hazbinz-vixxie

[wileys-russo]

Can you do a blurb about tooney where reader is shorter than her.

sorry seems to be the hardest word II e.toone

"oh for fuck sakes." you grumbled to yourself, hunting around for your training jacket but unable to find it. "ella!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, unsure where your girlfriend actually was in your shared home, head still buried in your wardrobe as footsteps raced upstairs.

"ya called baby?" the girl appeared as her thick accent sounded behind you. "where is my jacket?" you asked her seriously, raising an eyebrow to show you weren't messing about. the smug smile on her face was all the confirmation you needed that she was up to her usual tricks.

"don't know love. have ya properly looked for it?" she asked innocently and your eyes narrowed. "we needed to leave five minutes ago and i am not in the mood. where the fuck is my jacket el?" you warned, your girlfriend gesturing for you to step aside with a shoo of her hands.

reaching up she grabbed it from the very top shelf making you sigh, deeply unamused. the taller girls most favourite way to wind you up was to pick on you for your height, specifically to hide things where she knew you'd need her help to get them down.

"now what would ya do without me hmm?" the mancunian grinned, holding your jacket out of your reach as you grabbed for it. "ah ah ah. now say thank you baby, i love ya." ella teased, stretching her arm up higher as you huffed.

"thank you baby, now give me my fucking jacket or i swear to god i'll kill you in your sleep." you smiled dangerously through gritted teeth, ella dropping the jacket on your head in response.

"short and fiesty. that's how i like my women!" the girl smacked your bum with a whistle as you were distracted with your jacket, the murderous look sent her way having her sprinting out of your bedroom.

"come on love! god you're always makin us so late."

~

at the training grounds, it would seem that this morning was only the beginning as ella continued to go out of her way to mess with you.

"you are joking me." you grumbled under your breath, returning from the bathroom to see your boots had magically gone missing from where they were previously sat under your cubby.

"maz did you see where ella put my boots?" you sighed to the older woman who sent you a sympathetic smile. "i only just arrived, stuck in bloody traffic, sorry babe." mary apologised as you nodded in understanding, spotting ella speaking with maya on the other side of the room.

"toone!" you growled in warning, maya seeing the clearly pissed off look on your face and hurrying away as you stormed over toward them. your girlfriend however seemed only amused at your reaction, spreading out with her hands behind her head and a smile on her face.

"ya called?" she sung out staring up at you. "where are my boots ella?" you asked, staring at her with a pained expression. "now why would i know that love? are ya losing your things again?" the midfielder pouted sarcastically making your blood boil further.

"go and get them, now." you demanded, pointing to your cubby as she remained unmoved and you heard the training staff blow the whistle to signal you were all expected on the pitch.

"ella!" you repeated with a slight whine when she didn't move. "tooney! get your girls boots, everyone knows you obviously hid them mate." mary stuck up for you, clapping your back with her gloved hand and pointing menacingly at your girlfriend before she filed out after everyone else.

"i think ya should cheer up baby." ella teased, placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek and sprinting out of the change rooms as you yelled after her. "the fucking cheek of her." you looked over to your cubby and from a distance were finally able to see your boots placed on top of your locker.

with a defeated groan you stood up on the bench of your cubby, but even stretching on the tips of your toes you were still unable to reach your boots.

glancing around desperately you jumped down and grabbed a spare corner flag pole from the training room, sprinting back and successfully knocking your boots down with it.

putting them on in record time you hurried out to the pitch, the rest of the girls already split up and having commenced the mornings first drills.

"y/l/n seven minutes late means seven laps. go!" marc called out as your body crumpled but you nodded, most of your friends sending you sympathetic looks.

you knew ella would be one of them but your body burning with anger at her you refused to look her direction, starting your laps and cursing the mancunian responsible to the high heavens under your breath.

~

if ella hadn't already figured out after your laps that you were pissed off with her, the fact you'd refused to look or speak to her at all since had really solidified that she had taken things too far.

all day she had been calling out encouragement your way, trying over and over to get back in your good books to no avail and much to the amusement of your teammates.

"dog house for you tonight then tooney." millie teased as you all finished for the day, headed back toward the change room as you walked ahead with mary and hayley.

"yeah mate give us a call once you're locked out, you can crash on my couch." maya smacked her on the back of the head as ella shoved her away with a dirty look, only furthering both girls amusement as the teasings continued.

"you can walk home." you spoke bluntly to your girlfriend, kit bag already slung over your shoulder not bothering to shower as you swiftly exited the change room, the whistles and jeerings sent ella's way causing her face to burn bright red.

"nope! you give her some space, i'll drive you home in a bit." mary grabbed the back of the younger girls top as she grabbed her things to hurry after you, pushing her back to sit down with a firm look as ella tried to protest but fell silent, instead sulking in the corner like a scorned child.

~

"go on then, grovelling time." mary pulled up out the front of your shared home, nodding for ella to get out as she took a deep breath, thanking the older girl and slipping out of the car.

she fumbled around with her keys, trying to open the door but frowning as it stayed closed.

"oh fucking come on." she kicked at the wood with a frustrated huff realising you'd locked the deadbolt, which only your keys had a copy of. "baby come on! let us in." ella whined, knocking loudly on the door and hearing footsteps come her way.

"oh sorry i'm too short to reach it." you spat bitterly, crossing your arms and glaring at the closed door as ella sighed, head thumping softly at the wood.

"love i know i took it way too far. please let me in to make it up to ya!" ella begged, flowers in hand ready to give to you that she'd made mary stop and allow her to buy.

"oh sorry can't hear you? your head is just so much further away from me since you're so much taller. hope the welcome mat makes a comfy pillow!" you mocked, and ella groaned louder as your footsteps retreated away from the door.

slumping down against the door with a huff ella wracked her brain on how she could try to get back in your good graces. she came up with one idea, but it was shit.

however unable to come up with anything else, she had no choice but to go for it.

so dropping her bag by her feet she cleared her throat and began to count herself in, you listening from a few feet away with a frown. unsure if she was trying to rile herself up to kick the door down, something you'd not put past her.

but much to your shock, she instead began to sing.

"what've I gotta do to make you love me? what've I gotta do to make you care? what do I do when lightning strikes me?" ella began to belt out the lyrics to sorry seems to be the hardest word to say by none other than elton john.

"oh my god." you mumbled to yourself, unable to stop the smile which grew on your face as ella continued, confidence growing as she sang louder and louder with each verse.

"it's sad, so sad why can't we talk it over? when, it seems to me that sorry seems to be the hardest word!" you heard her pause, as if waiting for the door to unlock or you to say something before she continued.

"what do I do to make you want me? what I got to do to be heard? what do I say when it's all over? sorry seems to be the hardest word!"

"baby are ya really gonna make me sing the whole song? the neighbors are out watchin me!" ella paused to yell with a groan.

"yes! keep going." you called back as you heard her sigh and continue, again getting louder and somehow more and more off tone with each line.

"what have I got to do? what have I got to do? when sorry seems to be the hardest word!" ella finished, carrying the final word on for at least thirty seconds before falling silent.

with an amused smile you shook your head and undid the deadbolt, swinging the door open to face her.

"thank you! she'll be here all week." you called out to your neighbours over her shoulder, waving at them on their front lawn with a grin as their laughter grew and ellas face flushed bright red.

grabbing your hand she gently pushed you back inside, kicking her bag in and firmly closing the door with a relieved sigh.

"did we learn our lesson then?" you enquired, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow. "yes. no more hidin things!" ella sighed with a shake of her head.

"i am very very very very very sorry baby. forgive us?" ella asked hopefully, holding out the flowers to you which you accepted with a nod. "you are cooking dinner, cleaning up afterwards, giving me a massage and doing all the laundry tomorrow." you warned, ella nodding eagerly before she pounced on you, pulling you into a passionate smooch and mumbling yet another apology against your lips.

leaving her to take her trainers off and unpack her bag you made your way to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in, popping them in a vase and grabbing out some juice to drink. though as you opened the cupboard to grab out a glass your eyes narrowed and your jaw clenched.

"ella why the fuck are all the cups and mugs on the very top shelf!?"

[cynarisgayass]

𓍊𓋼~Maid for eachother~𓋼𓍊

Type: Oneshot

Description: Welp, I already wrote some of this and then Tumblr posted it without my consent so...here's it again. T-T Maid oneshot, cause I can and all that. Smut.

Rating: Explicit

Reader: GN, Afab, Maid, wears a dress

Featuring: Arlecchino

Warnings: Sir/master/pet/dear, biting, knee riding, SMUT

Arlecchino:

"Miss-"

"Sir."

You stood up straighter, feeling heat run through your body and flood your cheeks, a reaction that wasn't common when you normally met masters. "My apologies...sir. Is there anything you need from me?"

"Currently...I suppose you could neaten the files on my desk. Some have fallen to the floor and I simply don't have the need to pick them up myself." She tilted her head, resting it on her hand as she gestures to the stack of papers...right next to her. The ones on the ground mere inches from touching her.

You gave a small nod in agreement and slowly made your way over to her. The air felt stiffer the closer you got and despite not directly looking at her...you could tell she was watching you closely, judging your very existence.

With ease you neatened the stack of files on her desk and kneeled down to fetch the ones on the floor, trying desperately not to make eye contact or touch her. Just as you were about to stand she moved, her sharp nails softly scraping against the bottom of your chin as she made you look up at her.

It felt so intimidating that you almost forgot how to breath, "Sir-"

"Tell me, what exactly are your jobs limitations? What counts as a need hmm?"

You gulped as you thought about your answer. The limitations were pretty much up to you, as a maid your job was simple...please your master. "I believe sir, that as long as I'm assisting in making your life easier and pleasing you to the best of my abilities that my job is being fulfilled...did you have another task for me?"

"Yes, yes I think I do. Could you sit in my lap dear?"

Your eyes widened at her request, even though you knew what this was leading to...it was still surprising to actually hear, but of course you wouldn't deny such a striking master, "Yes sir."

Her hands guided you onto her lap, her nails practically digging into the fabric of your maid attire. She seemed eager for more, "Ah, that's much better. Though I wouldn't mind if you...adjusted...yourself to get more comfortable."

Your heart skipped a beat as she moved her leg beneath you, her knee perfectly flush with your lower regions and your body seemingly under her control. A soft gasp escaped your lips as she moved your hips, helping you start while she watched your reactions. Her eye contact with you never broke, even as you began to rock against her, like she was hypnotized by you.

"What a good little pet you are~"

Moans of ecstasy trickled from your throat as you tried to answer her, stuttering out a rushed "Mnnn y-yes sir" while your wetness coated her pant leg. You let your head fall back and she took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss your collarbones. Her teeth grazed your skin and you went weak with joy as they dug into your partially exposed shoulder.

"Someone's getting worked up, aren't they~"

Her words tickled your ear as she nibbled on it, sending sparks through out you. Your mouth watered and you forced yourself down on her knee roughly, proving her point as you finished with a delightful mewl. Riding out that wonderful feeling while your insides shivered in excitement, yet still you weren't done. "S-sir, is there any-thing else?"

"There's plenty of work to be done~"

Okay ngl, this was supposed to have more people, but I got bored after having to redo the post again...so daddy Arlecchino is what we get. But hey, that's fine right :/

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Ignore Me

Marc Spector x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Marc wants you to ignore him.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Let's file this under, we don't have time to unpack that.

Warnings: reader has tattoos, swearing, p in v sex, cream pie, vaginal fingering, Marc wanting to be ignored during sex as a kink, Marc saying some self-deprecating things about himself as a kink, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2130

“What’s this one for?” Marc lightly tapped the tattoo on your bicep with the tip of his nose and snuggled a little closer to you in bed, his chest against your back. 

“Oh, that one?” 

“Hmm.” He pressed his lips to the spot before he rubbed his cheek against you. 

“That one gives me the ability to tell the future.” You say playfully. 

Marc snorts, “oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. 

“Steven says that’s bullshit.” 

You turn to look him in the face over your shoulder. “No way Steven would say that.”

“What? He swears all the time?” Marc grins. 

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile back, breaking your pretend outrage, “that’s true, but he’d say ‘that’s shit’, bullshit is too American.” 

Marc chuckles and snakes his hand down to pinch your side a little, just enough to make you laugh and squirm. His other arm holds you tight against his body. “How would you like some American in you?” 

You laugh harder. “Marc, that’s terrible.” 

“You love it.” He kisses the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and purposefully bites down gently. Hard enough to make you squirm again and push back against his hardening cock. 

“So,” he mumbles in your ear, “you gonna tell me the meaning behind this one or…?”

“Is that a threat Spectre?”

He grins again against your shoulder. 

“I think you’re not actually interested in what it means.” You tease, purposefully scooting forward a little when he tries to grind against your backside. 

Marc’s fingers twitch around you, his left hand going to your hip to hold you still, but you wiggle away from him. 

“I think you’re preoccupied with something else.” 

“What?” He tries his best to keep the amusement out of his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shifts closer to you again and you bend back, bowing outward so that he still can’t rut against you. 

“Oh really?” You tease. 

He growls playfully at you, pulling you back towards him with a gentle, but firm strength, until you are flush against his chest. 

He silences your next teasing retort by swiftly sneaking his hand down the front of your pyjamas.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice hitching up at the end as he lightly pinches your clit. You press back against him, your legs instinctively inching wider. 

“Oh, so now you wanna be close, huh?” 

You give him a look over your shoulder accompanied by a frustrated grunt that earns you a chuckle and a kiss on the nape of your neck. 

He rolls your clit slowly between his thumb and forefinger, adding just the right amount of pressure to have you keening and rocking back against his aching cock. 

Marc gasps, letting out a low grumbily moan as you press against his sensitive tip. Precum is smearing against his stomach and soaking a wet patch into his boxers. 

Despite how you push back against him, your movements starting to border on frantic as heat begins to build and build in your stomach, he keeps up his languid, tortuous pace. Often, he likes it best like this. Slow and drawn out to almost the point of pain until the dam breaks. Makes it feel like he’s useful, like he’s doing a good job. Frantically trying to hold himself together, gripping onto the last pieces of his self-control until pleasure pulls him down into blissful mindlessness. 

He dips the tip of his forefinger lower, just teasing at your entrance before sliding back up as he muffles his moans at your wetness into your bare shoulder. 

But it seems you have other ideas. 

You turn your head, just enough to give him a messy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, the glide of your lips on his own quickly pulls a desperate moan from his chest. You hook your fingers into your waistband and pull your pyjamas down, kicking them off the last bit of the way. 

He growls as you press back against him and sneak your hand back to stroke him twice over his boxers, revelling in his little whimpered shiver, before you slide under the material and eagerly run your fingers over his hard, velvet length. 

His grip tightens on your waist for a moment before he moves closer, plunging two fingers inside of you in one quick motion. 

You gasp in surprise as he strokes your walls, pleasure blossoming along your spine. 

Marc moans against your shoulder, nipping and biting softly at your skin as he muffles himself. “So wet… fuck…” He bucks mindlessly against you for a second, focusing completely on the feel of you squeezing around his thick fingers and your little whimpered groans as you press your face into the pillow. 

His caress is dizzying, maddening as he purposefully goes the smallest fraction slower than what you want, what you need. Obsessed with seeing you writhe and beg for him. 

“Marc, please,” You buck up against him, grabbing hold of his arm to try to keep him at the angle that makes you see stars. 

He groans low, lightheadedness washing over him as you beg and his dick twitches. “Baby, please can we…” He bites his lip, screwing his eyes closed and he swallows down what he wants to say, hoping you were too caught up in your own pleasure to have heard him. 

But even as your hips move and breathing hitches you turn to look at him over your shoulder. “What do you need?” 

He sinks his teeth into his lip harder and shakes his head ever so slightly. 

“Marc,” the low, desperate edge to your voice makes him whine. 

“Can you ignore me?” He blurts out, heat rising to his cheeks and blistering his skin. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

You slow your hips, halting his hand's movements and Marc wants to go find a ditch to bury himself in, but your sweet voice makes him open his eyes. 

“Ignore you?” There’s no judgement, but he still hides his face and presses his forehead against your back. 

“Hmmm.” 

“Sweetheart,” you stroke his hair. “Tell me please.” 

He breathes a heavy sigh against your skin before blurting out. “Can you ignore me while I fuck you for as long as you can?” 

You smile, “you’d like that?” 

There’s a little spark of hope in his chest that makes his dick throb. “Yes.” He whispers. 

“Okay. How do you want me?” 

Marc moves quicker than you thought possible and you almost laugh at his eagerness, but stop yourself from fear that he would take it the wrong way. 

He carefully positions you on the bed, on your stomach with a pillow under your hips to prop them up slightly. He leans over you for a second, softly placing his hands on your thighs and spreading them slightly. A shiver of anticipation runs up your spine. 

But he quickly stops, leaning to the side and taking your book off the bedside table. “Could you, erm, read this? Or pretend to read it?” 

The uncertainty in his voice is so sweet, gentle, like a fine dusting of snow. You nod as you take the book out of his hands and turn to a random, previously read, page. 

“Thank you,” he mutters and kisses your shoulder blade before trailing down your back and pressing his lips against every tattoo he can reach. 

Marc waits for a moment apprehensively, just watching you read, taking in the way you have propped yourself up a little so that you can easily hold the book, before he pulls off his boxers and takes himself in hand. 

He tries to be as quiet as moves between your legs, spreading them over so slightly wider as he slowly runs his hand along his dick and just teases at his slit with the tip of his thumb. But he can’t stop his breath from hitching as he sees your arousal shining in the weak light. 

He swallows and inches forward on his knees, gradually leaning down to run the head of his cock through your soaking folds. 

He feels your shiver, the way your muscles instinctively clench around him, but you stay silent, your eyes glued to the words on the page even though for the life of you, you can’t focus on what you are seeing.

Carefully Marc notches his fat tip at your entrance, breathing through his nose as he painstakingly slowly pushes inside. 

Your walls squeeze around him, pulling him further in and welcoming him home. And he can’t stop the gasp of pleasure that tumbles out of his lips. He grabs your hip, just to steady himself, just to focus as the pleasure twists so tightly in his stomach. 

He glances at the back of your head for a second, biting down hard on his bottom lip to control himself as he bottoms out. 

You turn the page and carry on pretending to read. 

Marc whines, his arousal making him lightheaded and can’t resist any longer. He slowly pulls out before pushing himself back in, leaning down so that his right hand rests on the mattress while his left still holds your hip. 

The pace is moderate, at first. The only sounds are the slick wetness as he steadily fucks you, punctuated by his little gasps and moans that he tries so hard to swallow down. 

He changes the angle on each trust, trying to find the perfect spot. 

Your grip tightens on the book as he hits it, your thighs clenching, back arching ever so slightly. But you bite your teeth together and manage somehow to stop your cry of pleasure. 

Marc shivers as your body reacts but you don’t, a low and pathetic whine grumbling out from his throat as he increases his thrusts and focuses on that spot. On hitting it perfectly every time. He can feel you shake, the smallest shift as you push back against him ever so slightly, trying to stop yourself from going too far. All to indulge him. And his resolve snaps. 

He moans loudly, thrusting up into you hard and moving your thighs further apart so he can watch himself disappearing into your tight, wet heat. 

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he can’t stop himself now, can’t help the words from spilling out. “Fuck, you don’t even know I’m here, do you? Don’t even care that I’m fucking you, because,” he gasps as you clench around him, “because I’m so small you can’t even tell,” he starts thrusting rapidly, pounding into you and you see stars, “can’t even,” he moans loudly, his voice dissolving into a whiney needy breathy mess, and for some reason a sharp spark of arousal slides along your skin. “I can’t even make you cum, I can’t-”

You moan loudly, your pretence of reading the book abandoned as you can’t hold back any longer as he continuously hits so perfectly deep. The force of his thrusts rock you against the pillow under your hips, dragging your clit across the cotton and making you scream. 

“Oh shit!” Marc’s grip on you tightens, his eyes rolling back in his head as you clench and gush around him, your orgasm being ripped ruthlessly from your bones as he fucks you perfectly. 

“Baby, fuck,” he cums inside, filling you up to the brim. His hips keep moving, fucking you through your orgasm even as overstimulation prickles along his skin and makes him whine. 

It’s only when you reach back and grab his hand, pulling him towards you that he finally stops and collapses on top of you. 

He quickly goes to move to the side, but you squeeze his hand. “Stay here.” 

“I’m not squashing you am I?” 

You shake your head. “Feels comfy.” 

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. You can still tell he’s leaning slightly on his left arm and leg, not wanting to put his whole weight on you. 

A little awkwardly you manage to coax him into relaxing on top of you. 

“Was that…” he swallows nervously as he traces the tattoo on your ribs. “I hope that was okay for you…”

You smile. “I didn’t know your dick was so small I couldn’t even feel you.”

He groans a little and buries his head into your neck, but he’s chuckling.

You pause for only a second before you continue. “I liked it.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I liked that you were all whiney.” 

He snorts. 

“I didn’t know you liked that.”

“Liked what?” He asks.

“Being ignored.” 

“Oh… I don’t know.” He pauses. “It’s just… it’s like I can’t control anything, that what I do doesn’t matter so I just have to let go?” 

You nod and squeeze his hand. 

“Would you… be up for doing it again maybe?” 

You turn just enough so that you can kiss his face. “Of course.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[lets-try-some-writing]

What’s your thoughts visually on how bots habsuites/ quarters look like? And would they differ between frame types ? As prime big lol Wish we got some media on it :0

Hmm well I do imagine things would differ wildly between each continuity. However, some generalizations might be the following:

Autobots as a whole: Generally speaking, I do imagine the Autobots have habs that match their size and their rank. Rank and file soldiers are bunked together in rooms filled with recharging stations crammed shoulder to shoulder. Most don't mind since they are all together and it's not as if they have anything of their own anyway more often than not. Those further up the chain of command get rooms with less people in them until they finally get a roommate or possibly, if they are super duper special, their very own closet sized space. Actual berths are reserved for those with rooms big enough for them. Most just use recharging stations since it's generally more useful to making the most of a space.

Rank and file soldiers: The average soldier is bunked shoulder to shoulder with his or her comrades. They are each given a standing recharge station boxed right up against everyone else's unless they have an injury which warrants the usage of the handful of berths given to soldiers lower on the chain of command. Generally, such soldiers are kept in huge facilities meant to keep everyone safe and secure rather than comfort them. As such, decoration simply does not happen unless the military position a soldier is stationed at is more permanent. In which case, the soldier might paint their station with odd doodles, splotches of color, or if they are lucky enough to find some, they might slap some stickers on it.

Company commanders and the like: Directly above regular soldiers, various commanders of lower rank get bunked together as well, but they are given a tad more room. This is not a privilege as one might expect, but an actual necessity. Commanders can get called on at any time, and each of them need a little more room to work on reports and whatnot since there simply is not enough space to give each of them an office of their own. As such, their stations are a little farther apart, and between them are their personal effects and maybe something to play the part of a makeshift desk if need be. Decoration is the same as regular soldiers, with the possible addition of medallions, the odd set of fairy lights if one gets lucky, or even a poster or two.

Lieutenants and up: Now this is when a bot would start getting their own space, kind of. Bots of this rank are still bunked with a buddy or two, but they are actually issued rooms in order to supply them with the privacy needed to handle sensitive data. They also get actual berths (which can and often do double as desks). Getting a room means a bot can do almost whatever they like to decorate so long as it sort of aligns with military orders. Most often, lieutenants and the like decorate with weapons on the walls, trophies, artwork, or even murals. It depends on his strict the command center is.

Generals and Prime's Inner Circle: Inner circle bots get privileges, and one of those is a private room. A bot can do whatever the heck they want with their space so long as it doesn't disrupt workflow and the like. Decoration depends entirely on whoever owns the hab. In the case of Ultra Magnus, he lives in a mountain of datapads. Ratchet keeps mementos but will die before admitting it. Jazz has what few instruments he's managed to save. Ironhide decked his room with weapons... the list goes on. There are no limits for the most part. Comes with being constantly under threat of being assassinated.

Prime: Technically, he should be living in a high end facility, never to dirty his digits. But because this is Optimus Prime, he tends to wander. He rests wherever there is a free space and will gladly rest with the soldiers without a worry in the world. The only reason he has a hab at all is for the sake of morale amongst the troops. Although more often than not, it doubles as an extra room for injured troops in need of protection.

Not sure if this is what you wanted anon, but these are my thoughts!

[phantoms-planet]

Barred Protection Chapter 8

Tw: depression and inmate violence (not graphic)

Masterlist

Batman knew it had to have been Daelus to leak the story. The man had asked to send a letter and then the very next morning Vicki Vale had a story out about the scandal? There wasn’t a chance of it being anyone else at that point. Part of him was mad about it, given that they weren’t ready to handle the aftermath, but the other part of him understood the desperation. Men in bad situations did stupid things trying to fix them.

News outlets had leapt onto the story like savage wolves. It was only hours before the world knew of Dealus’s actions and the true nature of his medicines.

Just as Bruce thought, there was a savage fight over ethics and human rights. The two loudest sides were the people claiming that using the medicine was complacent in torture and child endangerment, and the people claiming it was ableist and classist of anyone who agreed with the former group.

Bruce couldn’t fully agree with either of the points. He could never condone the treatment Danny had gone through, but he wasn’t blind to the suffering Ameliorate had abated. Just like most things in life, there was no black and white answer.

He really wished there was.

“B?” Dick’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “How bad is it?”

“Hmm…”

“That bad?”

Bruce grunted again. It was worse than ‘that bad’. The Justice League was now being accused of not acting fast enough on a shady company, as if something like this was usually part of their duties.

Granted in hindsight they should have acted much sooner.

He let out a grumbling sigh before paging the League for an emergency meeting. They couldn’t go back and fix what happened but now they were going to mitigate the damage as much as possible. Though that ship might have sailed already.

With a swish of his cape, Batman went over to the zeta tube and in seconds he was up in the Watchtower.

Several of the others were right behind him. He led the way to one of the meeting rooms to wait for everyone. Thankfully, and promptly, everyone filed in and took their seats.

Batman pursed his lips before starting. “As you all are aware, the news of what happened regarding Danny has been leaked to the public. There has been great backlash against the League for how slow we were to respond to this, as the news had put it, dangerous precedent for business affairs.”

There was a wave of complaints that filled the room. Batman held his hand up, having to wait several minutes before everyone got their outrage under control. “I am aware that this may be unfair, but it may also not be. We need to have our best public speakers at the press conference. Superman? I want you front and center. I will have a list of topics that are confidential at the moment as well as a few pre-written answers if a question stumps you. Diana, I want you to help him.”

“The two of you are the favorites of the public, they will be easier on you. As for everyone else: Danny is fully confidential. If anyone tries to get you to speak about him, you will answer with ‘The league has already made their statements on the matter’, is this understood?”

A chorus of yesses followed. Flash held up his hand. “What are we going to do with Ameliorate? We can’t let them keep selling medicine, can we?”

“Not as freely.” Bruce stated. “For the time being they are going to be put under suspension. No medicine can be sold unless it is necessary for survival, no patients can be seen under the same conditions. In the wake of things, I think it best if we employ teams on site of dispensaries and clinics to protect the people who need the medication to live. I don’t want protests to get violent with those people as the targets.”

“I agree,” Diana was sitting up straight as a rod, anger barely hidden. “But I also believe there shouldn’t be any more collecting from Danny.”

Another chorus of agreement and Batman held his hand up again. “No, we will not collect more from the boy.”

“Then what of the people who rely on the medicine to live?” J’onn asked, brows furrowed.

Batman didn’t answer as fast this time. He’d been thinking about it and frankly, the only solution he could come up with was synthesizing something that resembled Danny’s tears. He could have his kids help with it to make it go faster.

He let out a sigh. “I will attempt to synthesize the tears. We can’t just let people die without at least attempting this.”

---

Danny floated in the expanse of space lazily. He didn’t need to breathe and the cold didn’t bother him so he could spend as much time as he wanted up here. With earth so tiny below him all that happened felt so far away-

Not-not that anything had happened to him. Everything was fine. He was just…relaxing after a hard day at school, yeah.

“Danny?” He whipped around at the voice. The green skinned man was back and this time he was holding his hands up placatingly. “My name is J’onn, but you may know me as Martian Manhunter.”

Martian Manhunter? The man who’d been harassing him was Martian Freaking Manhunter?! Of course one of the people he dreamed of meeting was being a massive jerk, that was just Fenton luck. Danny turned to fly away but was stopped by a hand to his shoulder.

“Would you like to see my home?” And just like that he was reeled in like a fish.

J’onn changed the dreamscape to an alien world with strange architecture and beautiful views. When Danny started asking questions about anything and everything, J’onn patiently answered them.

He learned about how the society ran, J’onn’s former job, his family (a clearly sore topic), how his planet was destroyed. J’onn needed a moment after that one, Danny let him compose himself as he explored a little more. This was a dream come true!

Danny asked even more questions until he wore himself out and he changed the surroundings back to empty space.

J’onn floated in silence with him for a while. It was nice. Maybe…maybe J’onn was nice too.

“Can I ask about your family?” J’onn gently nudged.

Danny stiffened. Was this a trap of some kind? He watched the alien in front of him for a moment before snorting. No, this was genuine. So…Dany told him. About his parents hunting ghosts, his sister who wanted to be a brain surgeon and wanted to grow up too fast, and when he was out of things to say about them he started talking about Sam and Tucker.

It was like a weight was lifting from his chest. Their surroundings changed with memories that he brought up; showing the Nastyburger, his home, school, and before he knew it Danny was starting to cry.

He didn’t want to cry, he’d done so much of it, but he couldn’t help it. J’onn held him as he broke down with body-wracking sobs.

---

Diana had noticed how relaxed their ward had become. It seemed J’onn’s new approach was working at first, until tears started slipping from Danny’s eyes again.

She quickly grabbed a tissue and began wiping them away. The poor boy had been through so much and he wasn’t even close to being done, the least she could do was wipe his tears for him.

Minutes after Danny started crying J’onn was taking his hand from the boy’s forehead. He met Diana’s eyes. “He wanted time alone. I believe I have reached him on some level though. He showed me his family and friends.” Diana nodded in relief.

After what had happened three tries ago, none of them were sure Danny would let them help. Showing his family was a huge improvement. A second chance.

“I’ll go tell Batman.” She swept to her feet and made her way to the monitors, where Batman was watching closely. “Batman?”

“Hnn?”

“J’onn says Danny showed him his loved ones.”

“Good progress. Have him come debrief with me when he can.”

Diana offered him a small smile. “I will. Do we have progress on the G.I.W?”

Batman let out a much more frustrated grunt. It took him a moment to compile his thoughts but Diana didn’t mind. She liked that he thought before speaking. “There’s…not good news. Researching them I found a set of acts, the Anti-Ecto acts, that make what they’ve done, what they’re doing, completely legal as long as they can prove their specimens are ghosts.”

“How have we not heard of these before?”

“I don’t know.” Bruce was clearly very frustrated. She understood, he liked having everything under control and no unknowns. This was a very important unknown.

Diana set a hand to his shoulder. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing; the public was going to be just as upset hearing about laws that allowed the torture of a young child.

---

Despite what people thought, Daelus was not the one to spill about his operations. He had wanted that to go quietly. As if he would sacrifice his whole company in an attempt to get the bat to listen to him. It was laughable.

No, the letter he had sent was to his assistant. He wanted Carter to re-start the synthesizing of P’s tears.

They had tried for years with no success, but if they could manage it now maybe the company, and the people who needed their medication to live, could be saved.

Unfortunately he had received a letter back saying that everyone who was working on that project had been put under various forms of arrest, and that his methods had been leaked. Who had leaked it? He wasn’t sure. Everyone was under iron tight NDAs.

Either way Daelus’s company was as good as dead.

Grief didn’t even begin to explain how he felt. His whole life’s ambition was gone, his good intentions marred, his reputation so sullied it might as well have been dragged lower than hell.

To say he was reacting poorly was an understatement. Most days he couldn’t get up to brush his teeth, let alone go to the cafeteria to eat.

Not that it would be safe for him anyway.

He had been moved to an isolation ward since the last time he’d been around the other inmates they had…very violent reactions to seeing him. Daelus shuddered at the memory.

Did he think he deserved it? Well…maybe? He hurt a child, sure, but he had also helped so many people. Surely that mitigated some of the harm. And really, how else would he have gotten tears from P, especially at the volume they needed to produce to keep up?

Surely the result had pardoned at least part of the means.

Though Daelus was put out about the fact that he had done those things to a child. Maybe he should have found a better method. Maybe he should have had his scientists work harder on the synthetic version of his tears.

Maybe he shouldn’t have bought a person in the first place.

Maybe his company shouldn’t have been the only thing he cared about for so long.

A puff of air escaped his lips. Daelus couldn’t change what he had done. He wanted to, yes, but he couldn’t.

He wished he could see P again.

He wished he could apologize.

[the-little-ewok]

“permission to lean in?” “permission granted”, “with your lips on mine…”, and “you kissed me last night.” “and you didn’t stop me.” with Poe?

Unremarkable

Poe Dameron x G!N reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 1400

Warnings : Non descriptive sexual contact mentions, sort of enemies to lovers (but also sort of not?), mentions of marriage, a bunch of teasing and banter.

Summary : The morning after the night before has you giving Poe some choice feedback.

A/N : Sorry I kept this kinda short and sweet and I didn't include one of the prompts. It was difficult to fit in. And sorry it's taken me so long to finish it!

Un-beta'd. Sorry for any mistakes!!

~~~~~

"You kissed me last night," Poe comments the moment he walks into the empty meeting room, unceremoniously throwing himself down in the chair beside you, scrambling to catch the cup of caf he upsets on the table in the process.

"And you didn't stop me," you reply with a sigh at his actions, mopping up the spillage as he gives you an apologetic look. Even as a General, Poe was still a disaster flyboy, though you don't know why you thought that would ever change.

"Oh I know. I just wanted to remind you about it so it was at the forefront of your mind," he grins, not missing a beat in the conversation despite the mess he's made. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the heat that prickles the back of your neck at the memory of what followed that kiss, the one that had you both stumbling into a supply cupboard of all places. Yes you might have instigated the kiss, but Poe had taken it much further than you had intended at that moment.

"You're right, I did need a reminder because it was pretty forgettable," you shrug, as though there isn't molten lava flowing through your veins at the memory of his tongue between your teeth, his body pressed against yours, the sound of supplies clattering to the ground from the shelves with the force of his thrusts.

You don't look at him, but out of the corner of your eye you see Poe's eyebrows shoot up somewhere into his hairline, and you have to bite your tongue to stop your laughter. He recovers quickly, leaning back in his chair and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible.

"So you won't be wanting a repeat tonight then?" He asks casually, picking up his datapad and flicking through it as though he isn't subtly watching your reaction.

You shrug noncommittally, dragging out your consideration as you sip what's left of your caf.

"Hmm, I don't think I had plans tonight, but that said I'm sure I can find something better to do."

"Than me?" Poe scoffs, as though he can't possibly imagine you would want to spend a night anywhere else. He gives up the show of looking at his work, throwing the data pad back on the table and folding his arms. "Well I heard Retha is hosting a film night in the mess. I'd probably have more fun at that than with you anyway."

"Probably,” you shrug, “but you know you can't concentrate through an entire film.” You glance over at him, watching his eyebrows pull together in a frown. He knows you're telling the truth but he's spoiling to argue about it.

"How would you know? You fall asleep ten minutes in and then wake up for the end asking twenty questions about who people are,” he accuses in retaliation, meeting your gaze with a glare of his own.

You jump back in, ready to defend yourself because he knows the problem is him. How many times have you settled down in his bunk to watch something and ended up under him, above him, and well, a whole lot of other positions that did not in any way involve watching the film.

"That's a lie. You've hardly ever let me watch properly to know what's going on anyway!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks. You give him a pointed look of warning, wondering if he really wants you to bring up his handsy antics in front of the other resistance members who have started to file into the room. When he continues to glare at you you decide he clearly needs it spelling out.

“It means maybe I don't know what's going on because someone can't keep their di-” you cut off your hissed reply, temporarily putting your argument on hold as Poe is interrupted by one of his commanders. You offer up a small smile at the others who begin taking their places around the table, chattering softly between themselves.

When everyone seems otherwise distracted Poe rounds back on you, unable just to simply drop the topic.

"Okay, point taken, but I only interrupt the boring films," he concedes, folding his arms stubbornly. "And let's be fair you've never complained."

"Well there's never really anything to comment on, complaints or otherwise" you shrug, watching his mouth fall open that for a second time you've insulted what he considered his second best talent to flying. His eyes flash dangerously and you can't help squirming in your seat, a delicious tingling licking across your skin at the thought he may make you pay for that, one way or another.

Poe’s eyes narrow and he leans in close to you.

“Oh really? Not even that one time we-”

"Are you two done?" Finn interrupts, making both of you startle. You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment, realising everyone at the table is now staring at the two of you. Sitting back you fold your arms, it's Poe’s fault. He started it.

You catch the tail end of Poe's grumbled comments to himself as he gets up to host the meeting, turning on the screens with a "forgettable…show you nothing to comment on."

~~~~

You stay behind as everyone filters out, leaning against the edge of the table waiting for him.

"So," Poe asks coming to stand in front of you, placing his arms either side of you, caging you in place. "Forgettable? I doubt you would have married someone who left you with forgettable hmm… moments." He settles on with a grin.

You laugh, amused that he's still not over the fact you said that, even almost two hours later.

"I was caught up in the momentum of victory," you tease, enjoying the butterflies his closeness gives you, still basking in the joy of being newlyweds after the end of the war. "I was excited to marry the resistance poster boy. Who knew he'd become so predictably boring? I mean really Poe? A supply closet? You can do better than that."

He huffs in response, acting offended all over again.

"Oh so now I'm forgettable and boring? I really thought you were still hopelessly in love with me and enjoying every moment of christening our new base. I mean, you certainly seemed to be enjoying it, rather loudly if I remember correctly," he gives you a smug grin and a raise of his eyebrow. He knows full well how much you enjoyed it and yes, perhaps you had been just a little bit loud about it.

You shrug, still playing along.

“Oh baby, that was all show. I couldn't let you think you were disappointing. You are the big scary General after all,” you tease in a babyish tone.

Poe glares at you, stepping back and clasping his hands behind his back, looking every inch the leader he is. The look he gives you sends heat rushing through your veins. The game is wearing thin, his jaw is tense and his eyes are narrowed, waiting for your move. He wants to prove your comments are wrong, even though he already knows you are only teasing.

"I guess I've interpreted this situation completely incorrectly and you don't want to help your General check out all the rooms, including the supply closets?” He asks, unmoving.

You lick your lips, fixing him with a sultry gaze.

“Well, I might be convinced, if only so I can help improve your performance.”

"Well aren't you just so selfless?" He rolls his eyes but steps towards you anyway. "You know I was thinking we could see how this room fairs but I assume that's too predictably boring for you?"

"Well," you grin, "we don't have that much time and this room is conveniently empty."

Another step towards you, "You're sure you have nothing better to do?"

“I have a free five minutes. That's all you need right?” you shrug, making the pilot break all pretence and start laughing.

He grumbles something about cheek and insubordination but you’re too distracted with the way he lights up when he laughs to care about his insults. You’re struck once more with a wave of love, the same one that made you fall for him all that time ago. Stars you adore him, you want him, you need him.

"Permission to lean in?" You ask, curling your fingers into the collar of his shirt, pulling him against you as Poe takes your waist.

He pauses for a moment, making a show of considering your request before his expression finally softens. He leans in to whisper against your lips.

"Permission granted."

He makes sure what happens next is anything but forgettable.

~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

A/N : Please, please if you enjoyed this take the time to comment and reblog! Interaction is the only thing that keeps writers writing!

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Airborne Lessons (18+ ONLY)

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

(We really need more airplane Hotch gifs)

For my lovely @h-c-u for giving me this idea <3

Summary: On the plane back home, Aaron punishes you for being a tease.

WC: 1.6k works

Warnings: SMUT ( 18+ MINORS DNI), established relationship, dom!Hotch/sub!reader, slight power imbalance, semi-exhibitionistic?, brattiness, Hotch is a lil mean just how i like him mwahahaha, use of remote control toy, masturbation, lil bit of jealous Hotch!!!!, implied BAU!reader, trust me there is aftercare later on (ALWAYS PRACTICE IT), let me know if anything else!!!

———

Stop squirming. 

Right after reading the text, you looked up at Aaron, who just so happened to be engrossed in the case file in his hands.

With a small huff, you readjusted in your seat. You refused to respond, instead crossing your arms over your chest. The intensity of the vibrating toy inside of you increased suddenly, causing you to stop breathing, eyes screwed shut.

Your phone buzzed with a new text message mere moments later.

Unless you want to get caught, of course.

This time, you shot him a glare, and he raised an eyebrow slightly — a challenge.

“Hey, you good?” Derek asked, leaning over from his seat.

You tensed at his nearness, composing your face to something more easy going despite your blushing cheeks.

“Yeah, I just get a little sick of… long plane rides. You know me,” you said, shrugging one shoulder.

He smiled reassuringly. “Lucky for you, no turbulence this time. All smooth sailing for the next two hours.”

“S-sure… no turbulence at all.”

You could hear the faintest huff of amusement coming from Aaron’s direction, and you peered at him once more from the corner of your eye.

Much earlier, before the plane had even taken off, Aaron had finally had enough. While the rule of no intimacy during a case was in effect the whole time, you couldn’t help all of the heated gazes directed at him. 

You’d undress and devour him with just your eyes, and he could tell by your sly little smiles and coquettish demureness whenever he called you out on them — What do you mean? Can’t even look at each other now?

So, as soon as the two of you had boarded the plane, he’d grasped your arm and pulled you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

“What are you doing?” You hissed, wide eyed. “The rest will be boarding pretty soon.”

“Pull your pants down,” he ordered.

You blinked, feigning ignorance. “But why?” 

“Because I said so.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. “Isn’t that an abuse of power, Unit Chief Hotchner?”

"You didn't care about professionalism last time I fucked you over my desk, do you really want to start now?"

You weighed your answer for a moment, but ended up keeping your mouth shut instead. You undid your pants and slid them down towards your knees, your underwear following.

He chuckled. “I thought so.”

Next thing you knew, he’d slid that toy inside of you, which was controlled by an app on his phone. He helped you pull your pants up and leaned in close to your ear, voice low and husky.

“Now you’ll know how I feel every time you look at me like that.”

And so, here you were, unable to relax even as the toy’s intensity diminished. Much to your chagrin, there actually was some turbulence. You closed your eyes to try and imagine yourself elsewhere.

The way the plane rocked and shuddered made you nervous, slick palms gripping the armrests tightly. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, a roil of conflicting sensations brewing inside of you. 

“Okay, maybe I miscalculated, but it’s just a bad patch. We’ll pass it soon enough,” Derek said.

“You okay?” Aaron chimed in, concern in his tone.

You nodded, licking your lips. “Better than ever, sir.”

Reid came over from his seat, kneeling next to you. He brought a hand to your forehead, your skin clammy and warm.

“Hmm, she’s presenting a couple of symptoms of a panic attack. I’ll go get some water, try to get her breathing under control in the meantime.” 

“Aye, aye, captain,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow, half-amused at Reid’s command. “Look at me, baby girl.”

You complied, turning your head and half opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “I’m fine, really, Morgan.”

“Why don’t you breathe with me, and then we’ll see how you feel?” 

He inhaled slowly, holding it for a couple of moments before exhaling just as slowly. You followed his lead, the rhythm feeling more and more natural each time. Your heartbeat slowed some, but it was still beating fast due to what you were trying to hide. You prayed that Derek wouldn’t notice your dilated pupils. 

“There you go, nice and easy,” Derek said reassuringly, patting your arm.

You placed a hand over his, squeezing his fingers gratefully. Reid returned with a bottle of water, opening it before handing it to you. You thanked them both, trying to keep your hand steady as you drank some water.

“I feel so pampered right now,” you chuckled, relishing all the attention.

Across from you, Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed. You tried to contain a smirk, already knowing he was jealous of said attention.

“I’d even say it’s preferential treatment at this point,” he grumbled, re-opening his case file and busying himself.

“Oh, come on, Hotch,” Derek grinned. “She’s our girl, we all gotta look out for each other. Don’t you agree?”

“Aww, if only Hotch was as generous as you two,” you said. “But it’s okay, you make up for it well enough.”

Aaron’s annoyed hum was his only response, at least for the time being. He kept his gaze down, indicating he was done with the conversation… but you knew he wasn’t nearly done with you. 

“I’m fine now, though,” you assured the duo. “You guys should get some rest. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

Derek winked. “Of course.”

Reid simply nodded, making his way back to his seat. You leaned back, taking another sip of water.

And then, a new text message. 

Real cute.

You bit your lower lip to contain your amusement, quickly typing a response.

Aren’t I just?

Of course, he wasn’t going to let it slide. He changed the pattern to increase and decrease intensity at seemingly random intervals. That instantly had you on edge again, and you could feel how slick your inner thighs had become.

Your jaw clenched, but you still tried to appear calm for the sake of the others. Whenever the higher intensity was just about to tip you over the edge, it would wane once more. It was going to drive you crazy, to say the least.

You picked up your cell phone once more, typing with shaky fingers.

Aaron please… I don't think I can keep going. Let me cum or take it out, please!

He took his sweet time responding at first, drawing out this punishment just a little longer.

Both sound like good options. What do you prefer?

— Let me cum please!!!

That’d be very generous, but last time I checked, I’m lacking in that department.

You cursed under your breath, low enough that no one would overhear. You couldn’t hold it much longer, so you figured it’d be better to try and take care of it. Even if it meant undergoing a more severe punishment later.

“I n-need to use the restroom,” you muttered, getting up from your seat and practically wobbling towards the bathroom.

As soon as you shut yourself inside the cramped space, you undid your pants and leaned against the wall. Just when your fingers were about to dip past the hem of your panties, there was a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” Aaron said from the other side.

You opened the door just a tad, face burning as he took in your current state. His nostrils flared as he exhaled slowly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was around.

“I see… I was coming to check on you, but I think you can manage just fine,” he whispered. “I’ll leave you to it, we’ll talk at home.”

He was about to walk away when you reached out with your free hand to grab his arm. His brow furrowed, but did not look at you.

“No, please, I need you,” you pleaded, voice equally low. “Please, Aaron.”

“You had plenty of attention and suddenly you want mine?”

“You know you're the only one. My body is yours, do whatever you want to me, please just let me come.”

He thought about it for a moment, then finally turned his glare in your direction.

"Alright, I'll let you come. But you have to do it yourself,” he said, turning off the toy from his phone. “I’ll watch, but I won’t touch you. And don’t even think of making one sound.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. You got to work immediately, keeping eye contact with him as your fingers slid up and down, up and down your soaked slit. 

You watched his throat work as he swallowed hard. You wished you could be tracing your mouth all over his skin as you touched yourself, but that would have to wait. Instead, you recalled a few things — the heady scent of his aftershave, the firmness of his body, and the sound of his low groans close to your ear. 

“Keep going,” he urged, his low voice now hoarse with want.

Your fingers picked up speed, now circling your clit. It didn’t take long for that warmth in your lower abdomen to fully ignite, and before you knew it, you had stumbled past oblivion.

You ground against your own hand, riding the waves of ecstasy that you had suppressed for too long. Your mouth was slack, eyes closed, but you made sure not to make a sound other than a few sharp exhales.

You hadn’t fully come down from your high when he suddenly grabbed you, capturing your lips in a frantic, bruising kiss. You melted into him, his tongue immediately finding yours. 

Then, just as abruptly, he pulled away, leaving your head spinning. 

He smiled devilishly at your dazed look. “Hope you learned your lesson.”

----

[frogsmulder]

34 & 36 msr

The Christmas Ruse

In order to avoid being set up with one of her mum's friends' sons, Scully uses Mulder's help to create a fake relationship. But Mulder doesn't know; about 3.4k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic

Read on ao3

Deep in the basement of the J Edgar Hoover building, December 23rd, Scully is about to leave the office. Winter coat pulled off the rack, one arm through and then the other, her heels clip towards the door when she stops in her tracks. Hesitating for a brief moment, she considers if she is really about to do this, but the alternative seems far more agonising. Lip caught between her teeth, she turns around to face Mulder, still at his desk. He looks up from the work he is still buried in despite the late hour: everyone else in the building has gone home, save for the janitor and herself. His hair is ruffled, his tie loose and a frown is perfectly sculpted across his brow. She could do worse as friends go. 

“Mulder…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you free tomorrow? About eight?”

He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head in mock consideration. “That's gonna be a little tough for me: I've got a file on a green, furry cryptid here that the higher-ups want caught before he steals all the joy out of Christmas.”

She can't help but roll her eyes. “I'll take that as a yes.”

“Depends: why d’you ask?” He leans forward again, hands clasped together on the desk in front of him, attentive, his whole gaze trained on her. 

“I–” she licks her lip– “I'll pick you up at seven.”

“Ooh a surprise!” he chuckles. “I like surprises. But if it's not a trip to Whoville, I'll be disappointed.”

She laughs, “happy holidays, Mulder,” as she walks out the door.

...

Her mind is blank, clear of any form of thought as the elevator dings, opening to the fourth floor of Hegal Place, Alexandria. She steps forward, automatic pilot steering her to the end of the corridor. If she starts thinking now, everything will cascade into a torrent of worry, and there will be no coming back. Checking her watch, she sees she is earlier than she had anticipated. She raises her knuckles to the wood. And then her hand drops without a sound. What if she is too early? What if she's interrupting him? Turning on her heel she walks back to wait in the car. But that is ridiculous. She should just knock and wait inside if he isn't ready. Yet upon reaching his door, she feels that magnetic repulsion again. Again she turns away. 

This time it isn't her own doubt that stops her but the sound of the door opening behind her. Mulder's head pops out. 

“Hey, Scully!” He grins. “You gonna pace around outside for the next twenty minutes or are you gonna let me invite you in?”

She opens her mouth to say something when he widens the door and motions for her to get moving. His casual nature bemuses her. He saunters in ahead, bare-chested, hair slightly damp, just a pair of jeans, drawing her eyes down to how well they hang on his hips and fit his ass. 

“You didn't give me a dress code: is this alright?” He picks up a black t-shirt and a navy sweater, spinning around to hold them against his chest like a professional designer. 

She smirks, “yeah, that'll do nicely.”

He grins again as he wriggles into the garments. A moment of confusion passes his features before he looks around and bends over to look under the coffee table. Retrieving a bottle of aftershave, he sprays some on, and then looks satisfied with his appearance. Scully certainly is. A waft of the scent captivates her as he puts the bottle back on the table. 

“Good to go?”

He snaps her from her thoughtless mind “Oh, uh, yeah.”

The drive is pleasant enough. Crisp frosted scenery flies by while seasonal songs float from the car stereo. In the corner of her eye, she notices Mulder quietly humming and tapping along to the music, having no right to be as endearing as he is. She smiles, and focuses on the road ahead. 

“So, I am allowed to ask where we are going now, or is it still a surprise?”

“We are going for a Scully Christmas eve dinner. It's, uh, a sort of tradition we have each year: close family get together to share time before the big day tomorrow–before all the aunts come over and fuss over how Christmas should be done properly in the traditional Irish Catholic way.” She laughs a little, remembering how Aunt Marie had to be kicked out of the kitchen by her mother. “And my mom invited you.”

Mulder whistles. “Wow, that's a high honour indeed. I feel bad now coming empty handed.”

“Don't worry, there's a bottle of red on the backseat from both of us.”

“Both of us? Will your mother have something to be suspicious about?” He grins and waggles his eyebrows. 

“It's nothing like that,” she laughs. “She's just been asking after you a lot lately. I think she's secretly trying to adopt you.”

“Well, I couldn't think of a better person to be adopted by than Mrs Scully.”

Scully bites her lip, considering whether to tell him the truth, but decides it isn't worth it. Her mom has already apologised to Jack: he won't be there, and that's the main thing. She grips the steering wheel a little tighter. 

They pull up to the house and she sees Bill’s family wagon is already in the driveway and she curses quietly under her breath, she had hoped to settle in before he showed up. 

She gets out of the car and picks up the bottle of wine. Mulder is waiting for her on the other side, arm curled in invitation. She links her own arm through and shakes her head at how well he's playing the role he doesn't even know he's got. At the top of the path, she nervously opens the door, preparing herself for the evening ahead. The irony is, she would rather be having dinner with just Mulder, but then again she's never managed to be the traditional sort. 

“Hi Mom, Bill, we're here!”

“We're in the kitchen sweetie!” her mother calls back. 

Mulder groans and bends down to whisper harshly in her ear, “You never said Bill Jr was here.”

“I said close family.”

“I think I left my diplomacy mask in the trunk, let me go get it.”

She chuckles and tugs him along to the kitchen. 

She first presents her mother with the wine and receives a big hug in return before Maggie sees who she has brought with her. 

“Oh Fox! How wonderful to see you.” She cups his face and reaches up to kiss his cheek, before standing back, holding by the arms and admiring him. “Although I can't say I'm surprised; Dana has been talking about you a lot lately.”

“Oh really?” Mulder turns teasingly to Scully with his eyebrows raised. 

Maggie laughs, “Yes, I was starting to think she was making the whole thing–”

“Mom!” Scully interrupts, blushing bright red. 

“Sorry, Dana,” She chuckles and releases Mulder back to her. “Would you like some prosecco, the two of you?”

Scully eyes Bill standing a few steps behind their mother, watching Mulder warily. 

“That sounds wonderful, Mrs Scully.”

“Oh, Maggie, please; you're part of the family, Fox.”

“That's very kind of you, Maggie.”

She walks up to him and opens her arms as a peace offering. “Hey Bill, long time no see. Your boat didn't get stuck in traffic this time then?”

He finally relaxes and accepts her hug

“How's my little sister doing?”

“I'm good,” she sighs. “Where are Tara and the kids?”

“She's just giving them a bath before they go to bed.” He steps back and gives her a smile. “Don't worry, they'll be down in time to say good night to their favourite aunt.” 

She smiles to hide the pain of the hidden dig; the absence of Melissa felt the most this time of year. 

“Mom was telling me you brought a date.” He glances back over to Mulder. “Seriously? Him?”

She sighs, knowing this was an eventuality. “I don't want to do this now, Bill, it's Christmas. Can we just leave it alone?”

He steps forward, insistent. “But after all he's done to you?”

“Bill, I won't say it again. He's been there for me and supported me despite what you think.” She looks over to Mulder too, and how easily he talks to her mom. Her mother is right, he is a part of this family even if it's not in the way she thinks. “I don't want any trouble this evening, Bill, please.”

He nods tersely, the matter still clearly bothering him. She decides to leave it and joins Mulder, wrapping herself around his arm and taking the flute of bubbling alcohol gratefully. Despite trying to mask it, Mulder senses her tension and smoothly twines his fingers with hers, grounding her the way no-one else has ever has. 

...

The rest of the evening flows relatively effortlessly as family gatherings go. Matthew comes bounding down the stairs followed shortly by Tara and a baby already sleepy-eyed resting on her shoulder. Matthew runs up to his grandma and jumps onto her lap in the armchair. 

“Are you all clean and ready for bed now?” Maggie coos. 

He shakes his head. “I not tired. Not need bed.” And then he points a finger across the room. “Funny man?”

From the corner of her eye, Scully can see Mulder chuckle next to her as he slowly gets up to introduce himself. 

“Hi, Dana!” Tara offers a wave with one hand, gently bouncing the baby “Sorry I didn't get to say hi earlier I had my hands full.”

“Sure looks that way,” Scully laughs. She gets up to stroke the fuzzy hair of her newest nephew and give him a kiss on his crown. “He's grown so much already,” She marvels. “Oh, this is Mulder by the way–” she gestures over to where Mulder is ruffling Matthews hair– “Mulder, the only other woman besides mom that's been able to keep my brother in check.”

“I see we are going to get along,” Mulder chuckles. 

“Oh he's not that bad really.” Tara looks fondly over at her husband trying to gently extract their son from Maggie’s arms, much to the grumpy protests of Matthew. “He's really a teddy bear underneath it all.”

“Just don't let my crewmen hear about it.”

“No, Daddy, no! Me not tired!”

Bill gruffs and hoists Matthew up, barely holding on to him as arms and legs flail. 

“Can I?” Mulder asks cautiously and Bill gives him a contemptuous look as Scully raises an incredulous eyebrow. 

“You know what day it is today, Matthew?”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Kissmas eve.”

Mulder nods seriously. “And what happens on Christmas eve?”

“Santa comes.”

“But you know Santa only comes if you are asleep. He is very shy.” He leans on conspiratorially to whisper in the boys ear. “He can't bring your presents if you're awake.”

“But... But… I good boy,” he pouts. 

Mulder smiles. “You have to be good all year round, including Christmas eve. And good boys go to bed when their mommy asks them to.”

Matthew considers this for a moment. “You good boy?”

“Yes,” Mulder laughs. “But the question is, are you?”

Matthew nods and clings to his father. “Bed time then Santa?”

“That's right,” Bill chimes in. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” 

He gets up the stairs with little fuss. Over his shoulder a tired child yawns. “Bye bye, aunty Dana!” he says. “Bye bye, funny man!”

On his way past, Tara mouths thank you to Mulder, who waves it off as if it was no big thing. Scully looks at him, mouth hanging open, both her shock and curiosity showing through. She had watched the whole thing unfold in front of her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. How? She wonders, while a quieter voice deeper inside whispers dangerous day-dreams. She fights to keep it tamped down, knowing its impossibility; its only real ability to hurt her in the future. 

Maggie pats Mulder's arm as she moves through to the kitchen, pausing to add, “You'll make a great father one day, Fox.”

A strange sting of jealousy sings with that chorus at her mother's words. Scully shakes it off. “Mulder,” she smiles with awe. “How did you know that would work?”

He shrugs. “I guess those hostage negotiation classes paid off.”

She laughs but doesn't let the matter slide. “No, really?”

“I used to encourage my sister to bed the same way. For some reason she listened to me.” He gets a wistful look in his eye. “But there was that one time we conspired to stay up to catch Santa together. Well, our father wasn't very pleased.”

...

Later, sat around the dinner table, Scully edges closer to Mulder, conscious to keep the appearance of the happy couple up. Part of her is anxious that Mulder will become suspicious of her behaviour, question her and force her to reveal her ruse. The other part wars with herself about how easy and natural it is to act like she loves him. She fidgets with the hem of her blouse under the table, straightening herself out as her mother passes out portions of homemade cottage pie. The smell of it takes her back to her childhood when she and her siblings used to fight over who got the leftovers. She remembers Missy taking putty on her and sneaking her some to not make the others jealous. 

“So,” Tara chirps brightly, bringing Scully out of her reverie. “How do you and Mulder know each other?”

She opens her mouth but no words come out, the inevitable question catching her off guard. “Um… We work together… he's my– we're– he's my partner.” She shields her gaze from Bill’s stern stare and catches Mulder's amused smirk. Her cheeks start to burn and she is sure everyone can see her blush. 

“Ahhh.” Tara gives her a knowing smile. “And how long has that been going on for?”

“It's, uh–

“Relatively new,” Mulder fills in for her. Surprised, Scully whips her head to stare at him. 

“Well, I'm glad for you Dana, you look happier than I've seen you in a while. And who knows maybe you'll even get to start a family of your own: he seems great with kids.”

Her mother jumps in before she can reply, sensing her unease, knowing her desires for motherhood will only ever remain as that. “Come now, there's no need for an interrogation,” she jokes light heartedly. 

Scully finally looks to Mulder with a smile and says quietly, “Yeah, he is.”

The blush on his cheeks warms her heart and she licks her lips. Maybe it could be this easy to love him. 

Her mother raises “A toast to this Christmas, to family.”

“And to Mulder and Dana,” Tara adds. 

“Bill,” Maggie smiles. “Will you do the honours?”

Bill nods and clasps his hands together leading everyone into grace with a bowed head and closed eyes. “Bless this food and the hands that prepared it–”

Under the table Scully feels Mulder shift, his hand reaching out to her, fingers walking along her lap to find her hand. She turns it over, allowing him to lace his fingers through hers. She breaks her prayer to look at him, confused but not unpleasantly surprised. With everyone keeping vigil, he smiles softly, privately, as if they were the only two people to exist in this world. When Bill utters the words “Amen,” Mulder squeezes her hand before quickly letting go, moving his gaze elsewhere as conversation resumes.

...

After dinner, Scully, stays sitting at the table for a while, watching the swirling bubble in her flute rise to the top and burst. Tara helps her mother clear away and Mulder quietly excuses himself for some fresh air. She bites her lip, sensing his discomfort with the intimate family setting. She briefly wonders what Christmas eve at the Mulder household is like, before remembering last year he had invited to go ghostbusting. Maybe he would prefer to be there than here, suffocated in an environment he barely recognises. She was too selfish to consider how out of place he would feel, but she can’t deny that having him by her side the last few hours has been an immense source of strength for her. She is not sure she could give up his company even if she wanted to.

Bill’s chair makes a scraping sound against the hardwood floor as he gets up. She glances from her bubbling glance to see him follow Mulder’s direction to the porch. Discreetly, she follows him. Through the front door she can hear his muffled voice stern and gruff: “.... clear Dana likes you… respect her choice but… hurt her again…”

She’s heard enough to know exactly what Bill is saying and she curses him under her breath. Jaw clenched, she turns the handle of the door. “Bill–” she starts.

Bill throws his hands up defensively. “I was just leaving, Dana.” 

She watches as he innocently side steps her and returns to the dining room. Scully turns around again, fingers to her brow, massaging out the frown carved out there, not knowing where to begin apologising.

“How much of that did you hear?” Mulder winces, scratching the back of his neck.

She sighs dejectedly. “Only the important parts.”

He huffs half a laugh. “Only that much, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Mulder. Bill can be…”

“Overprotective?” he laughs again mirthlessly. “Yeah, well, as the older brother I get it: he just cares a lot about you. I only wish that didn’t mean hating me in the process.”

She places a comforting hand on his bicep, pleading silently that he accept her forgiveness for the sin he doesn't know she has committed. She searches his eyes for an answer but before she can find one, Tara walks up to the doorway, catching them.

“Aw don’t you two look cute under the mistletoe.”

“What?” Scully spins around defensively.

Mulder looks up and chuckles. Amidst the heat of the confrontation, she had forgotten the sprig of mistletoe tied to the porch awning. She slowly lifts her head, hoping it’s not still there, but the berries shine white against the green, inviting them to keep up tradition.

“Do you trust me, Scully?”

She looks at him, wide-eyed and hesitant. “Yes, but–”

Before she can finish the thought, Mulder is leaning in, warm hand pressed against her cheek, the other holding her steady at her hip. His lips meet hers as soft and as light as a feather touch, barely a whisper of the possibilities she now finds herself fantasising. All too soon, he draws back, leaving her bereft of his heat, his touch. His thumb still draws back and forth across her skin as she languidly opens her eyes again, seeing his smile in a new light. All the world goes quiet and numb save for the man standing in front of her, still holding on, still smiling. Conscious thought leaves her brain; her worries and doubts disseminated like dust on the wind. Old fortresses crumble and fall and she reaches up to brush her finger against his lips, testing this new reality she finds herself in. Lead by pure instinct she follows her finger and kisses against hers li him again, craving the feel of his lips brushing against hers like oxygen after seven years of holding her breath. Hesitantly, she deepens the kiss, exploring the taste of his lips, his tongue. When he reciprocates she sighs contentedly, floating towards heaven.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against hers. “Now are you gonna tell me why your whole family thinks we are dating?” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “Or do I have to ask them?”

“I–” she stutters over her words half in relief, half realising the ridiculousness of it all. She hides her face buried deep in his chest, laughing through, “I didn’t want mum to set me up with one of her friends' sons again.” 

“And I was the perfect lie?” he teases her with a shit-eating grin.

“As far as boyfriends go, I could do a lot worse.”

“So, it’s official–” he tilts her head back to look at him and brushes her hair from her face– “this is our first date.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” she laughs.

“Hey, Scully–” he gives her another chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiles against his lips. “Merry Christmas.”

[k1ngdom-of-thieves]

Hi, I was wondering if I could request a sort of spinoff to this post? https://www.tumblr.com/k1ngdom-of-thieves/696378827069423616/hi-hii-i-like-your-blog-so-may-i-please?source=share Same prompt, but with Azul, Cater, Kalim, Jade, and Jamil?

Sure! Thank you so much for being patient

Azul, Cater, Kalim, Jade and Jamil + resting their head on reader’s lap!

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had been so busy organizing files and signing paperwork for the cafe, that he didn’t realize how late it was getting. It was only when you walked in to his office at midnight wondering what he had been doing this whole time.

He apologized for having you stay up for him and told you to sit on one of the couches so you could still be near him. Noticing the dark circles that formed under his eyes, you tried to get him to sit with you so he could rest a little.

The entrepreneur tries to deny and continue with his work, but you wouldn’t listen to it. Eventually, he gave in, seeing how you were so adamantly telling him to relax.

At first, it just started off as him leaning on your shoulder, but it soon led to him resting his head on your lap. Usually he would never do something like this, but he looks so serene and happy with you.

“Only you could make me do this in my own office. If Jade or Floyd saw this, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Cater Diamond

Cater was coming back from an incredibly long day of classes; three tests, a science lab, and the music club after school. Needless to say, he’s exhausted.

He comes straight to you after all of it and practically throws himself into your arms. Congrats. You’ve been officially caught in the famous “Cater Capture.”

After a while of you two standing around, you asked him if he wanted to sit down. He agreed and asked if he could put his head in your lap.

He lets you play with his hair as he rambles about his day and just talk about random thoughts he had. If you keep playing with his hair, he might end up falling asleep.

“Hey, keep that up and I might just fall asleep! I’m just kidding; you know I love ya, right?

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim is, without a doubt, a very upbeat guy. He is also someone who is very found of physical touch.

Him coming to rest his head on your lap is a fairly common occurrence compared to doing it with the other guys. It usually happens when it’s just you and him hanging out somewhere.

Once, you two were stargazing when he put his head in your lap and started talking to you about the little things that happened that day. Things like funny things he saw, gifts he would like to buy you, and anything else that came up in his mind.

Sometimes if he’s really bored, he’ll take some of his accessories (like his earrings and headscarf) and try to put them on you without getting up. It usually doesn’t look that great but hey, you’re having fun!

“Okay, I think I got it now! Oh, oh no. It’s slipping off again. How about you try putting it on me this time!”

Jade Leech

Jade isn’t the type of guy to just put his head in your lap on a whim. He will, however, do it gladly if you ask him to.

He’ll take you hand and put it on his cheek while you talk to him. If you get flustered, he’ll start chuckling while he waits for you to finish what you were saying.

He will keep a conversation with you like nothing had changed. He’s talking about daily events like his head isn’t delicately placed on your lap.

This guy won’t even get up if someone were to walk into the room. He will get up if he sees that you’re uncomfortable, though.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t seen Azul. I- oh? I noticed you looked flustered, I can get up now if you’d like. Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil putting his head in your lap is something that very rarely happens. Your gonna have to ask him when there’s no one around and at night. He’ll get flustered and say no otherwise.

There’s just something special with the calm look in his eyes when it’s just the two of you alone. The slight smile he has when you two crack jokes.

If you two are fairly close, he’ll let you mess with his hair a little. Just a little, though. His hair takes forever to de-tangle.

He’ll offer to let you rest on his lap as well, as a way to repay you. Whether you take him up on that offer is up to you.

“I never thought I’d be able to relax like this. Thank you for giving me this chance.”

[short-honey-badger]

Phantom Pain Part 4

No Money, No Problems

Have some fluff after the angst of the last part! Hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

@writingmysanity @foggyturtleknightangel @kenkenmaaa

It may not seem like it, but Shanks was always paying attention. He may look a fool laughing and drinking, but he never let his guard down. Unless he was on board his ship, lost on the Grand Line with his loyal crew, only then would the redhead relax.

Anyway, he was getting off track. Shanks constantly watched, logged, and cataloged anything that passed close enough for him to hear. And because of that useful little skill, the Captain found out some very important, at least to him anyway, information about you, his perfect soulmate.

On a rather lazy day on board the Red Force, Shanks and Benn were playing a game of dice when You and Limejuice walked past the men's barrel. Shanks had immediately tuned in to what you were saying, feeling your enjoyment at whatever the subject was and shamelessly eavesdropping.

"-I can't wait to get to the next islands. I want a pole so I can stop bothering you and Roux."

Poles? Like a fishing pole? You liked to fish? Shanks had stored that under the very important file with your name on it, and then went back to the game.

Now, a week later, Shanks is approached by none other than his soulmate after the cargo has been unloaded from the ship.

"What's up, Darling?" He asks as you come to a stop by his side. He can't help but to feel excited. Shanks knows what this is about, having never forgotten your little comment and he was reminded more and more of it the closer they came to the next island. You were still learning that it was okay to ask him for things, even the most trivial ones, and Shanks felt like this could be the moment.

He can already feel your embarrassed reluctance, but he stays silent and patient as you struggle to get out what you want to say, "I, hmm," You begin and then clear your throat. Shanks takes this as his opportunity to butt in. He just can't help but tease you.

"What's wrong, Baby? Cat got your tongue?" The redhead coos and then proceeds to stick his tongue out at you, snickering when you smack his chest. But you are grinning, and that's all that matters to him.

His playfulness does the trick, however, and Shanks feels your jumping nerves settle.

"I want a fishing pole so that I can stop bothering everyone else. The spare ones are pretty old, and what line you've got is frayed and breaks easily," You rattle off quickly and then frown, "I'm also a little short on Berri."

Shanks' grin turns shark-like as he stares down at you, "Oh, so you want me to buy you one?" he asks. He loves this. It's not about the money, absolutely not. It's about having you rely on him, asking him for something that you wanted just because you wanted it.

You frown, becoming a bit defensive in the face of his teasing, "Well, You don't have to, obvio-Mumph!" You scowl at your childish captain who has pressed his finger up against your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Now, I didn't say that, Baby. I was just picking fun," Shanks says and softens, finger leaving your lips to instead crandle your jaw in his calloused hand, "I'll get you whatever you want. You should know by now that we aren't exactly strapped for cash," And it was the truth. He is one of the four Yonko of the Seas. He had plenty of Berri to spend. Especially on you. He searches your expression, forcing you to look him in the eye, "Okay?"

You swallow, dipping your head in a nod as best you can, "Okay," You choke out and wet your lips. You watch the way his eyes dip to follow the tip of your tongue and shiver at the way his eyes darken.

"Good," He murmurs and then ducks in close. He can't help himself any longer. While the two of you had yet to do much when it came to the sexual side of the relationship, that didn't mean that Shanks didn't pine for you daily.

You could feel his interest spike and bravely angle your face up to receive his attention. It's only been a couple of weeks since the misunderstanding that had sent Shanks into a drunken stupor. Since then, the two of you have grown much closer, and you would even dare say that the redhead loved you, even though he had yet to say it out loud. He didn't really need to, though, when his side of the bind shined like a live wire.

Shanks closes the distance, lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss that has your eyes fluttering shut and a sigh of content passing through his nose. You surprise him by opening up for him and welcoming him tongue inside without prompt. You don't want this kiss to stop, hands even tangling in his shirt to tug him closer, but soon, your need for oxygen outweighs everything else, and you break the kiss with a gasp.

"We," you begin and then lick your lips, blushing when all you taste is Shanks, "We should go shopping now."

The Captain laughs and pulls away, and you drop your hands from his shirt, "I'd that's what you want, Sweetheart."

You scoff, not finding it very fair that he wasn't as affected from the kiss as you had been. You turn and begin to stalk away, but Shanks falls into step with you easily and snatches up your right hand to tangle with his left.

"There. Now, you won't get lost. And if you do, at least we will be together," He quips and is rewarded with you, snorting with laughter and smiling at him like he'd hung the sun up just for you. The bond pulses like a firework show, and Shanks would do anything to keep that. To know that he was the one responsible for your joy.

"At least I'll have good company," you tease and squeeze his hand while you drag him down the gangplank. Shanks promised you a fishing pole after all.

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance, Ch. 16

@praetorqueenreyna @thrumbolt @achaotichuman @northern-polaris @zivotzaruzi @taymartiart (Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged or untagged.)

I just checked my last update, and not only was it almost a month ago (sorry!), I included an apology for the previous chapter's cliffhanger. So, to get it out of the way, I'll just warn you now and apologize for this next one. 🫶

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: It's the Friday before Christmas, and some unexpected surprises show up on everyone's doorsteps.

Read on AO3, or read on below:

There was a knock on the open office door, then someone called through the crack: “Special delivery for J. P. I.”

Tamlin and Jurian looked up at the same time, then exchanged surprised looks.

“From who?” Jurian asked the smartly-dressed courier standing in the doorway with a large rectangular box tucked under his arm.

“T & J, sir. It’s a department store, sir.”

“I know what it is.” Jurian gave Tamlin a look. “The only question is who would be sending us a box full of high end goodies from Thread & Jewels of all places,” he remarked dryly, then flicked up his eyebrows. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Tamlin blushed as he carefully closed the drawer of the filing cabinet he’d been organizing. “You never know. It could be from Vassa.”

Jurian grimaced as he pushed his rolling chair away from the desk. “Doubtful,” he said, groaning as he stood. “She just barely started speaking to me again. Besides, why would she need to have something delivered? More to the point—” He took the pen from the waiting courier’s outstretched hand. “—Why would your boyfriend have something delivered? You just moved in together. You could be saving a fortune on postage alone, not to mention tips. Which I will happily pay,” he quickly added to the courier.

“No need, sir. It’s been taken care of, sir,” the courier said, unfazed as he held out the clipboard for Jurian to sign.

“Really? No kidding.”

Tamlin stood back and slid his hands into his pockets. “Maybe it’s not for us,” he mused. “Maybe it got sent to the wrong place.”

Jurian squinted at the fine print, then scrawled his signature. “Guess again,” he remarked, clicking the pen closed and handing it back. “That’s our address. And look—” He held up a small, cream-colored envelope and wagged it. “—It’s got our business name on it, with a little heart dotting the ‘i’ and everything.”

Tamlin rushed forward, blushing madly. “Let me see that,” he said, snatching the envelope from a smirking Jurian, then turned it over. “It does not.”

“Maybe not, but who else would go to all this trouble?”

“Lucien,” they said in unison.

“You got it.”

As Tamlin slit open the envelope, Jurian asked the courier, “Is there anything else?”

“No, sir. Enjoy your weekend, sir. And happy holidays, sir.”

“Yeah, you, too,” Jurian said, accepting the box before closing the door behind him. “So, what does your little love note say?”

Tamlin was too intrigued by the message to be embarrassed further by his friend’s teasing. “Here’s a little something for each of you,” he read aloud. “You’ll know which is which, but just in case, call me.” He didn’t mention the small heart next to the phone number at the bottom, but he smiled at it, just the same.

Jurian tilted his head and listened as he gently shook the package. “Huh. Whatever it is, it’s tightly-wrapped,” he mused. “It’s probably just clothes, but it feels too heavy to be Christmas pajamas.”

“As if Lucien would ever buy you pajamas,” Tamlin said, smiling.

“Good point,” Jurian said, hefting the box. “Hmm. A blanket, maybe?”

Tamlin slid the card into his pocket and chuckled. “You look like a big kid shaking your presents the day before Christmas,” he said wryly. “Did you ever open them early, just to see if you were right?”

“You bet I did,” Jurian said, smirking as he set the large box on top of the desk. “My parents had to get pretty creative to fool me.”

“Sounds like you were always meant to be a detective, then.”

“Huh. I guess I was,” Jurian agreed, reaching for some scissors. “Now let’s see how good I still am.”

As it turned out, there was more than one box tucked inside the larger one.

Jurian clicked his tongue and shook his head. “The old nesting doll trick,” he moaned. “I should have known.”

Tamlin allowed him to heft the smaller box before he opened it, though, just to give him a sporting chance.

“Books, maybe… No, wait. I’ve got it. T & J’s is a department store. It’s picture frames, or nothing. I’d bet my couch on it.”

As it turned out, he didn’t have to, because he was right. There were two picture frames inside, one for each of them, with pictures.

Tamlin smiled at his silver reindeer frame, but he had to chuckle at the photo inside it. He and Lucien were standing next to their newly decorated tree, he in his jingle-bell antlers and his boyfriend in an ugly candy-striped sweater, and making a heart with their outstretched hands. The rest of the photos that Jurian had taken of them that night were in a small envelope of their own. There was the one of them falling into each other’s arms and laughing, then hugging, and then just looking at each other.

He would have kept looking, but Jurian’s wistful sigh drew his attention.

His boss—and friend—was slowly flipping through his own stack of photos, featuring him and Vassa standing by the Christmas tree. The frame Lucien had chosen was tucked under his arm.

“So, what did you get?” Tamlin asked him politely.

Jurian’s gaze was soft and somewhat sad as he glanced up. “Hmm? Oh, it’s empty,” he said, turning the frame around. It was covered in sculpted silver snowflakes, but the frame itself had nothing inside it, just as he said. “I guess he knows Vassa and I aren’t together anymore. Not that we were ever together to begin with, I mean…”

Tamlin winced. “I think he just wanted to give you the choice in what photo you wanted to put inside,” he offered kindly.

“That’s very optimistic of you, but highly unlikely,” Jurian said, sitting on the edge of the desk. He set the silver frame aside. “I think he just didn’t want to hurt my feelings. This is the sort of gift you give your future in-laws when you want to impress them… or your boss, in this case.” He pointed at the framed certificates on the wall behind him. “Everyone who knows me knows I like my frames like I like my liquor: cheap, oak-y, and on sale.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes. “Or maybe—” he said, picking up the snowflake frame and brandishing it. “Lucien thought that Santa and his Little Helper would like a frame that looks more like it came from the North Pole instead of the bottom of a bargain bin.”

“Hey. My frames have character, even if they do give you splinters.”

Tamlin ignored his sarcasm. “He didn’t have to give you a frame,” he continued. “Or the photos. I don’t think Vassa would have let him give those to you if she didn’t still care about you, at least a little.”

Jurian’s pinched mouth softened. “You think?”

Tamlin nodded, then reached out and tapped at the topmost photo in Jurian’s hands. “I think you should frame that one.”

It was the one candid photo Lucien had managed to take of them, in which Jurian was gazing at Vassa with such tenderness, it was impossible to believe that he had been pretending the whole time. It had been real from the start. Only he hadn’t realized it yet.

Jurian let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Maybe I will,” he said quietly, taking the frame from Tamlin’s hand. “It’s not going to match anything on my wall, though. I guess it will have to live on the desk for a while.”

Tamlin smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

“Yeah. And speaking of spirit,” Jurian declared, gesturing to the large box behind him. “You still have one more gift to unwrap. And—before you say anything—I highly doubt it’s for me. It’s got your name written all over it. Metaphorically speaking.” He held up a finger. “Unless…”

But even Jurian didn’t guess right this time.

It wasn’t a monogrammed quilt, like he thought, or a robe, for that matter.

It was a beautiful gray wool overcoat with a high collar and two rows of buttons. Tamlin slowly rubbed the thick fabric between his fingers. He couldn’t stop touching it. He couldn’t stop staring at it.

Jurian whistled. “Fancy,” he drawled, moving the empty cardboard box to the floor. “Now that’s the sort of coat you can take for a stroll downtown without freezing your ass off,” he remarked. “Where did you say Lucien was taking you, again?”

“We’re going to his family’s Christmas party. Well, it’s a company party. They have one every year,” Tamlin told him with a wincing smile, then shrugged. “He talked me into it.”

“Well, congratulations. Or, condolences,” Jurian said with a small bow. “I guess it depends on how cheap the Autumn Corporation is going to be. Either way, I don’t envy you.”

Tamlin huffed a shy laugh. “I don’t mind,” he said honestly. “Mostly I’m just nervous about meeting the rest of his family. I only met them once around the holidays about eight years ago, and that was before either of us came out.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Jurian said, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “At least you know his brother likes you.”

“Yeah, but that’s just one of them. He has six.”

“Six? Good lord. His poor mother.”

Tamlin ducked his head to hide his nervous smile. “I remember she was really nice when I first met her, but that was before Lucien and I started dating.”

“Relax. She’s gonna love you,” Jurian said kindly, thumping him on the arm. “Now quit worrying. We’ve still got some cleaning up to do before we close up for the holiday, and we’ve got your boyfriend to thank for that.”

“Oh! That reminds me. I still need to call him,” Tamlin remembered, reaching for the card in his pocket.

“All right,” Jurian conceded, “but make it snappy. I don’t want to hit rush hour. Traffic is going to be crazy enough as it is.”

Luckily, Lucien picked up after the second ring. “Hey there, Handsome.”

Tamlin adjusted the receiver against his ear and smiled. “How did you know it was me?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been saying that all day, hoping you’d call,” Lucien teased. Tamlin laughed, and he could hear the pleased grin in Lucien’s voice when he continued, “So, I’m guessing you got my message.”

“I sure did, but Jurian and I were wondering why you went to all this trouble to have things delivered here when I’m going to see you in a couple of hours.”

“Well, you know me,” Lucien said unabashedly. “I just couldn’t wait until the party. Besides, shopping took longer than I thought, and I still have to give Vassa her gift. I’m on my way to see her now, actually. Did you know she’s coming tonight?”

Tamlin shifted the receiver to his other ear as he glanced at Jurian, who was putting her photo in his frame. “No… I didn’t know.”

“Do you think you can convince Jurian to come? It would be nice to see him and Vassa make up before the new year.”

They had certainly been cordial enough as they helped Tamlin move his things into Lucien’s apartment, but breaking down cardboard boxes was not the same thing as breaking down communication barriers.

Tamlin winced and looked away when Jurian noticed him staring. “I’ll try,” he told Lucien quietly.

“Thanks, Tam,” Lucien said warmly. “Before I go, how do you like your new coat? Is it too big? Is it too much?”

“No, I love it,” Tamlin assured him, folding back the tissue paper to look at his brand new coat again. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” Lucien sounded relieved. “I was worried it wouldn’t fit, so…”

“Oh. I don’t know about that. I haven’t tried it on yet,” Tamlin said sheepishly. “Your card said to call…”

“Well, put it on!” Lucien said eagerly. “There’s still time to exchange it before we go to the party tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Um… Here. Talk to Jurian for a second,” Tamlin said, thrusting the receiver in Jurian’s direction. Jurian, who had been slowly cleaning up and pretending not to listen in, rolled his eyes as he reluctantly accepted the receiver.

“Hey,” he said flatly, then looked Tamlin over as he pulled the coat out of its box. “Yeah, he’s putting it on right now… Hmm? Oh, that. Yeah, thanks. The photos were a nice touch. You know, you’re not a bad photographer. Everything turned out real nice with the tree and everything—Ooh, not bad, Tam. Not bad,” he said with an approving nod, then paused to listen in. His brow furrowed. “What? I don’t—” He sighed, then tilted the receiver away from his mouth. “Lucien wants to know if you look hot in it.”

Tamlin’s cheeks warmed as he chuckled and pulled his hair free from the folded wool collar. “Tell him I think so.”

“He says he thinks so,” Jurian said obediently, then rolled his eyes. “You talk to him,” he complained, holding out the receiver.

Tamlin smiled shyly as he accepted it and traded places with Jurian at the desk. The duster-length coat swirled comfortably around his legs as he turned around and sat down. As he settled into the chair, he ran a hand over the soft wool. It was perfectly warm, and perfectly perfect.

“—on a scale of one to ten,” Lucien was saying on the other end.

Tamlin bit his lip, then told Jurian, “He just wants to know what you think, on a scale of one to ten.”

Jurian wolf whistled, loud enough for Lucien to hear, and Tamlin’s face turned pink.

Lucien laughed. “That’s more like it,” he said warmly. “Which reminds me. Have you found your other gift yet?”

“You mean the picture frame? Yeah, I love it.”

“That’s good, but check your left pocket,” Lucien said mysteriously. “No, wait! I mean the right one. Sorry. There’s two gifts, actually. One in each pocket.”

Tamlin bent his neck to hold the receiver in place as he reached inside the right pocket. “How many gifts does this make, exactly?”

“I’m not sure. I kind of lost count after buying those aprons.”

“Hey, new gloves,” Tamlin marveled, pulling them out.

“I hope they fit,” Lucien said shyly as he tried one on. “It was kind of hard to get your measurements without spoiling the surprise.”

“Huh. Well, that explains why you wanted to compare hand sizes last night,” Tamlin remarked, then caught Jurian’s cocked eyebrow. He blushed deeper and turned away.

Lucien breathed a laugh. “I was trying to be subtle.”

“You were,” Tamlin assured him. “I had no idea.”

“Good,” Lucien said warmly. “As long as I guessed right, that’s all that matters.”

“Mm, they’re a bit snug,” Tamlin admitted, flexing his fingers inside the fleece lined gloves. “But stores don’t usually have my size, anyway. Don’t worry about it,” he said, peeling it off again. “They’re great.”

“I’ll get you another pair,” Lucien promised. “Now, you can save the other gift for later if you want, but you have to promise to open it before sunset.”

“Uh, okay…” Tamlin’s brow furrowed as he reached inside the left pocket and drew out a small flat box with a hinged lid.

“Just in case you turn into a werewolf, remember?” Lucien teased.

Tamlin flipped open the lid, then stared at the spiked leather choker within.

“What is that?” Jurian asked, coming closer for a better look.

Tamlin snapped the lid closed and hid the box behind his back. “Nothing.”

Jurian looked at him askance. “Is that what I think it is?”

Tamlin quickly shook his head.

Jurian’s brows rose in understanding as he spread his hands wide and backed away. “You know what? You’re right. Forget I asked.”

“...Tam?” Lucien said, worry creeping into his voice. “Tam, are you there?”

“I’m—I’m here,” Tamlin rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Mm-hmm.”

“Did I go too far?” Lucien asked hesitantly. “I thought maybe it would make you laugh…”

“It’s… uh… definitely different,” Tamlin admitted, setting the box aside, then lowered his voice so that Jurian couldn’t hear. “You didn’t actually pay for silver, did you?”

“Would you be mad at me if I did?”

Tamlin grimaced.

“Don’t worry,” Lucien said quickly. “I’m pretty sure it’s stainless steel. I don’t actually expect you to wear it. I know you’re not a werewolf.”

“Do you, though?” Tamlin said in a low voice, surprising even himself.

“What? Oh. Ooh,” Lucien purred. “Maybe I don’t know.”

Tamlin bit back a laugh. “I guess you’ll have to wait until tonight to find out.”

“I can’t wait,” Lucien said in a low voice, then in a louder tone asked, “Hey, listen. I’m almost at Vassa’s hotel. How would you guys like to meet me there? They have a nice little bar just off the lobby where we could meet up for drinks. How does that sound?”

Tamlin bit his lip in thought. “Hmm. Let me ask Jurian.” He covered the mouthpiece with his free hand. “What would you think about dropping me off at Vassa’s hotel? Lucien’s on his way there now, and he’s offering to pay for drinks at the bar, if you’re up for it.”

Jurian hesitated, then shook his head. “Tell him ‘Thanks’, but I already have a date tonight with a hot pink couch. We’re going to split a couple beers and watch the game.” When Tamlin grimaced, he added quickly, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not right now.”

Tamlin nodded and turned away. “Maybe another time,” he told his boyfriend.

“It was worth a shot,” Lucien said, sighing.

“Yeah,” Tamlin agreed softly.

Jurian interrupted, “Hey, I can still drop you off, if you want to go. I just can’t stay. You understand. Prior engagement, and all that.”

“Sure. Thanks,” Tamlin said, surprised, then passed on the news to Lucien. “Do you still want to meet up there? Can your convertible seat three?”

“Hmm. I’m sure we can work something out,” Lucien said distractedly. “Listen. Call me before you leave, and we’ll figure it out. Do you have the number for Vassa’s hotel in case you can’t reach me?”

When Jurian—reluctantly—admitted that he did, Tamlin told Lucien so.

“Great. Then I’ll talk to you soon. Oh, and Tam?”

Tamlin paused. “Yeah?”

Lucien sighed softly on the other end. “I love you.”

Tamlin smiled. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Vassa was still wearing her robe when she peered through the opening of her hotel room door. Her surprised expression softened when she saw the wrapped gift in Lucien’s hand.

“You are early,” she said chidingly, even though she smiled and opened the door wider.

Lucien bent down to kiss her cheek. “Christmas is next week,” he told her as he stepped inside. “If anything, I’m late.”

She chuckled as she closed the door behind him, then slid the deadbolt into place for good measure. “And your party tonight?” she reminded him.

“Oh, that,” Lucien said teasingly. “That I’m early for.”

As he set her gift on the coffee table, he glanced around and asked, “So, how do you like your new room?”

“It is nice. View is better,” she said softly.

After Tamlin revealed that he and Jurian had been hired to report on Vassa’s whereabouts, it was agreed that she should change rooms, just to be safe. It was still registered under Lucien’s name, but it was one that Jurian hadn’t been to. It was on a higher floor, with a better view of the city, although they couldn’t see much of it at the moment. It had snowed earlier, but they were expecting more later that evening.

As Lucien shrugged off his coat, he noticed that Vassa remained by the door, hugging her arms.

“Hey… What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I do not think I should go.”

“What? Why not?”

She shrugged and looked away. “I have bad feeling. In here.” She pointed at her stomach.

Lucien relaxed a little. “Oh. You mean you’re nervous.”

She shrugged again. “I suppose.”

Lucien sighed and stepped closer. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Jurian’s not coming. He has other plans tonight.”

“Oh.” Vassa rolled her shoulders and lifted her chin. “With another woman?” she asked, trying—and failing—to sound disinterested.

Lucien tried to contain his smirk. “He didn’t say, but I doubt it,” he said honestly.

“Hmph. He certainly knows how to keep his secrets,” she said dismissively, then brushed past Lucien to reach for her gift. “What did you bring?”

Lucien breathed a laugh as he watched her lift it to her ear and shake it. “Careful. It’s fragile. Uh, it might break.”

“Oh,” she said apologetically, then gently returned it to its place on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch and carefully removed the top of the box, then gasped appreciatively at what laid within. “Oh, Lucien. It is beautiful,” she gushed as he joined her on the couch.

“To remember your first Christmas in Prythian,” he said, smiling as she brought out the silver snowflake ornament.

It glittered as it caught the light and dangled from the ribbon she held in her delicate fingertips. “Beautiful,” she said again in Scythian.

“There is one more gift,” he told her in her language, and folded back the white tissue paper to reveal the glittering picture frame underneath.

The silver snowflake frame matched her ornament, as well as the frame he had selected for Jurian, although he didn’t tell her that. He wanted them to discover that on their own. He wanted to believe that they could be friends again, even if they never dated again. Considering how intertwined their lives were, considering that Lucien and Tamlin now lived together, it would be easier on everyone if they could learn to get along.

As she admired the new frame, Lucien reached inside the box and drew out a small white envelope. “These are the photos from our tree-decorating party,” he explained, without opening the envelope. “You don’t have to look at them, but I wanted you to have them, anyway.”

Her smile faded as she hesitated, then slowly accepted the envelope. “Thank you,” she said softly, then set it aside without looking at them.

Although he was disappointed, he wasn’t surprised.

She must have noticed his expression change, for she repeated her “Thank you” in a much more sincere tone, then kissed his cheek. “You are most kind.”

“You are most welcome,” he told her in Scythian.

She beamed. “Come,” she said, seizing his hand. “Help me decide what to wear.”

“Oh! You’re going to come?” he asked as she pulled him to his feet.

“Yes,” she declared. “If Juri can—I mean, Jur-i-an,” she said, pronouncing his name carefully. “If he can have plans, then I can have plans.”

It was better than leaving her alone in her room all night, with only a television and a minibar for company, so Lucien didn’t argue. “What did you have in mind?”

* * *

By the time Tamlin and Jurian made it downstairs, it was getting dark.

Even though it was still technically afternoon, the thick clouds above their heads made it seem later than it actually was. The near-empty parking lot was covered in a light dusting of snow, and they were already expecting more. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d be caught up in it. Most of the workers in their building had already gone for the day, having started their holiday weekend early.

“You sure you’ve got everything there, Tam?” Jurian asked him, watching him pile his old coat and the coat box into the back seat.

Tamlin flipped his scarf over his shoulder, then patted at his new pockets. “I think so. I—wait.” He blushed as he remembered the spiked choker. “I forgot my, uh…”

“Your something,” Jurian said with a meaningful nod.

“Yeah,” Tamlin said meekly.

Jurian chuckled and shook his head, then opened the driver’s side door. “I’ll get the windows scraped off. You, go fetch,” he teased.

Tamlin’s blush deepened. “Yeah, okay,” he said, then quickly turned for the entrance.

His embarrassment only lasted as long as it took to call the elevator. As he slid his hands inside his new pockets, he caught sight of his—somewhat blurred—reflection, and he smiled. As he turned, his new coat swirled around his knees. His white scarf looked good with the fine gray wool, even better than his bomber jacket. This one was a lot warmer, too.

What a Christmas this was turning out to be. He now had a boyfriend, a bigger place to live, an actual bed, a warm coat, and his violin. It seemed that his luck had finally turned around, and for the better.

Cold air swirled into the lobby. Tamlin glanced up as three men walked through the doors, wearing long black coats. That wasn’t so unusual. What was unusual was that they joined him in waiting for the elevator. It was the last weekend before Christmas, and no one was doing business. Not at this hour.

Then again, it was none of his business what these men chose to do with their time. He didn’t know everybody in the building, after all.

When the elevator opened, a gaggle of women walked out, wearing red and green and chatting merrily as they carried out boxes filled with leftover holiday goodies. There must have been an office party upstairs. Tamlin might have wished them a happy holiday as they left the elevator, if he had been alone, but he found himself strangely self-conscious and unable to speak.

With the elevator now empty, Tamlin wished he could take the stairs, but the three men seemed to be… waiting for him. Nonsense. They were just being polite.

The elevator could hold eight men comfortably, but it seemed oddly cramped when the four of them got in, one in each corner.

Tamlin stood by the buttons, even though he would have preferred to stand by the doors. “Which floor?” he asked politely.

Two of the men looked wordlessly to the third, standing stoically in the opposite corner.

“Third,” the man said, with a hard accent.

Tamlin was too distracted by his pronunciation to press more than one button. If he had been thinking straight, he would have pressed Two, and then Three, and then taken the stairs the rest of the way. Slowly.

As the elevator doors rumbled shut, Tamlin pressed himself into his corner and took a deep breath. There was no reason to be nervous. These men were strangers, but he had ridden this elevator with strangers many times before. Besides, he was just as tall as they were, even if they did outweigh him in sheer muscle. At least, two of them did.

The third man, the only one who had spoken thus far, was tall and slender to the point of being gaunt. His closely cropped hair was so blond it was nearly white, and he had a neatly trimmed goatee. He had a cane, too, but that didn’t help Tamlin guess his age. If he had to guess, perhaps he was in his late forties, or early fifties. Not that it mattered.

Had the elevator always been this slow?

The white-haired man slowly tapped a bony finger against the hand holding his cane. A thick silver ring rested on his first knuckle. Tamlin tried not to stare at it, but the movement caught his eye, and the shape held his attention. The ring was shaped like a skull.

The man noticed him looking, and he smiled. It was not a friendly smile.

Tamlin managed a tight, polite smile in return, then looked away. His icy blue eyes were rather unsettling to look at.

It was like looking at a ghost. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator rumbled to a halt, and the door chimed sweetly as it opened.

Nobody moved, though.

“Please,” the man said, gesturing with a bony hand. “After you.”

Tamlin nodded politely, then hurried out. He forced himself to walk down the hall, although he would have preferred a brisk jog. Why was he so nervous, anyway? He didn’t know them. They didn’t know him. He hadn’t been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past… unless he counted Lucien.

Tamlin shook himself. He was being silly. He was no Scrooge. He was just nervous about meeting Lucien’s family, and he was running late. That was all.

He glanced back over his shoulder. He hadn’t meant to, but he did it anyway. Not that he had any reason to worry. The three men hadn’t tried to follow him. They were simply examining the directory printed outside the elevator. The white-haired man had lifted that same bony hand to drag his skull finger down the list of names.

Tamlin shivered, and looked away.

Bah, humbug.

His hands shook when he tried to unlock the office door, and he cursed under his breath when he nearly dropped the keys. Maybe Lucien would forgive him for ‘forgetting’ the collar. It seemed silly to come all this way for a joke. What would he tell Jurian, though? That a group of strangers had followed him onto the elevator and given him the creeps? No, it was better to grab the box and get out and pretend this never happened.

He let out a sigh of relief when the key turned and the office door swung open. Leaving the keys in the lock, he rushed for the velvet box on the other side of the desk. Maybe he would even tell Lucien about it later, and they could laugh about it over pizza and a glass of wine.

But when he turned around, box in hand, he didn’t feel like laughing.

The skeleton man was standing in the doorway, and the other two men were right behind him.

“You are J. P. I.?” the man asked in that same hard accent.

Tamlin swallowed. “We’re closed,” he rasped.

The man smiled that same cool smile, then glanced over his shoulder and murmured something in another language. The other two men stepped closer. “But… the door is open, no?”

Tamlin slipped the box in his pocket and tried to think of a way out.

At his silence, the man continued, “You speak Scythian, yes?”

Tamlin’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice. “No,” he whispered.

The man continued to smile. “I think… you do.” He pulled Tamlin’s keys from the lock and pocketed them as he stepped inside the too-small office. “I think you know exactly who I am, and why I am here.”

Tamlin couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. It was like Amarantha had drugged him all over again.

This man had his keys. Koschei had his keys.

No. No. It wasn’t possible. Why would Koschei come all the way from Scythia? It didn’t make sense.

This was just a very, very bad dream. In a minute he’d wake up next to Lucien. That was good. After kissing him awake, his boyfriend would pull him into a nice hot shower to work out all the kinks from the night before. They had just finished unpacking, after all. They lived together now. That was worth celebrating. Maybe they could go out for latkes…

Maybe… after he woke up.

“You try my patience,” the man said irritably. “Where is my Vassa?”

Tamlin didn’t mean to, but his eyes fell to the framed photo on Jurian’s desk.

Unfortunately for him, Koschei noticed.

As he picked it up, he frowned, and his eyes were like blue ice. “Where is she?”

Swift footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door.

“Tam?” Jurian’s voice called out. “Hey! What’s going on? Get out of my way.” He shoved his way past the two men. “What are you doing in my…?”

He faltered when he caught sight of Tamlin standing on the other side of the room.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tamlin said weakly.

“So, I saw these clowns follow you into the building,” Jurian said quietly. “I didn’t want to seem like a mother hen, but, uh… you know. You can’t be too careful these days.”

“Yeah. I know.”

The white-haired man turned the framed photo around and asked Jurian something in Scythian. Tamlin had a pretty good guess as to what he wanted.

Jurian straightened and rolled his shoulders. His face was grim. “Da.”

Koschei lowered the photo and smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile. “Good.”