#which such beautiful and breath arresting descriptions

[gogandmagog]

🪦 Dark and oppressive houses in literature. 🪦

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Defied (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

Warnings: evil!reader, that Celebrimbor scene in 2x08, so torture and death (the description isn’t too graphic and reader doesn’t torture him directly but she plays good cop to Sauron’s bad cop) angst + comfort, biting, some manhandling, mention of reader killing people

Note: one more fic in the evil!reader collection. Works on its own too but reader’s backstory is more detailed than here in Old Wounds. I think I broke myself writing this.

Celebrimbor awakens to a damp cloth gently brushing the blood and sweat off his feverish brow. A touch kinder than he had imagined he would ever feel again. He groans weakly, awash with relief as he opens his eyes.

Any trace of comfort vanishes when he sees it is the wife of Sauron who is administering the merciful treatment.

“Shh,” you murmur as he tries to lift his head. The soft pillow on which it’s resting are your thighs, your legs folded beneath you as you sit sideways on the floor. It takes only the lightest push for you to hold him down by the shoulder, but it still sends pain shooting through his tormented body.

“We do not have long,” you whisper, throwing a slightly nervous glance towards the door. “He will return soon.”

Frowning and too weak to do anything but lie there, Celebrimbor searches the room with his eyes, finding that the two of you are, indeed, alone. He also finds that you have removed the arrows from his body while he had been unconscious, his wounds still painful but at least more bearable than before. To his surprise, they don’t seem to be bleeding as profusely as one would expect.

“I’ve done what I could,” you say regretfully, gently pressing the cloth to his temple. “I can do more.”

Your voice leads him to raise his gaze to yours. There’s a shaft of light pouring through the window at just the right angle so that it bathes your face in an ethereal glow. Looking at him from above, all beauty and light in the midst of his forge’s ruins, you seem like a gift from the Valar themselves. You could be his salvation, his way back to freedom, if only he would—

“If only I would give you the Nine.”

His voice is so weak and hoarse, he barely hears it himself. Your brow furrows, as sympathetic as the small smile you grace him with.

“There is no other way,” you whisper.

Despite it all, the weakest of chuckles escapes his parched throat.

“After he is done inflicting his torment,” he says, somehow finding enough strength within himself to pour into his voice, “you come to me with a kind word and soothing touch. Seeking to melt my will, rather than break it.” He shakes his head once, meeting your gaze unwaveringly, even from below. “I see through the illusions now. His... and yours.”

You breathe in. Slowly, deeply. As you exhale, the divine light dims and vanishes, leaving your expression as it truly is—cold and utterly frustrated as you give a sharp sigh.

“And how is that to your benefit?” you deadpan. You cast the bloodied cloth aside and remove your legs from under him. He groans in pain as you maneuver him so that he’s sitting up against a column, standing to your full height beside him. There’s nothing soothing whatsoever about the sight of you looking down at him now.

“Seriously, Celebrimbor,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. You’ve already sacrificed those poor guards of yours to do it. I mean,” you shake your head, chuckling with pity, “trying to have my husband arrested, like some common Elf? What did you imagine that would accomplish?”

“Does it not pain you,” he ignores your taunts, voice trembling as it grows in despair, “to see me tormented as the one you claim to love once was, at the hands of Morgoth? You said you were there. You said Morgoth had you mend him with your gifts, only so he could begin his tortures anew. Did you not weep as you told that story? Does it not pain you, then,” he cries out, “that your beloved husband would force you to relive that past by having you do the very same to another?!”

“It’s not him that is forcing me!” you scream out in return.

He had said that word—husband—which you use so often, and with such delight, as if it were the greatest poison known to Middle-Earth. That cracked something within you, tears of anger burning in your eyes as you begin to pace like an animal in a cage.

“Do you think this is what I would have chosen? Do you think this is what I’ve always wanted?”

Before you know what you are doing, you grab a piece of rubble and flung it against the pillar, above Celebrimbor. He gasps and flinches as pieces of shattered stone rain down dangerously close to him, though he’s lucky enough to only become covered in dust.

“There was a time,” you say, practically trembling with anger as you rush to Celebrimbor’s side, “after Morgoth was defeated, when he and I were perfectly content to simply... exist! That was enough. More than enough. We were finally free from Morgoth, finally free to be together.” You shake your head and close your eyes, breathing to regain your composure. After that, you are no longer shaking, and your voice is grim. “But we both had been free before. And we knew how easily that can be taken away. The only being who truly has freedom... is that who controls all else. And so that had to be us.”

“Perfectly sound logic.”

His words drip sarcasm. Your jaw clenches.

“Mock me all you want,” you say, crouching to his level and forcing him to look straight your merciless gaze with a firm knuckle beneath his chin. “Which one of us has their freedom now?”

Celebrimbor meets your ire with a sympathetic smile.

“Neither, my false friend,” he murmurs. “Neither.”

A mirthless chuckle escapes you. You have truly underestimated his willpower. But he has done the same with your ruthlessness.

“We’ll see,” you hiss. “Love,” you call out, the word fierce but ragged on your tongue as you release Celebrimbor’s face and stand up. He hasn’t noticed your husband walk into the room, or come to stand no longer than an arm’s length away from you. Most likely he had been lingering in the shadows, waiting for a sign from you to reveal himself. Even as you turn to him, you’re still glaring daggers meant for Celebrimbor.

“I think he likes you better,” you say.

Sauron looks at you, impassive. “Perhaps you’ve lost your touch.”

What might have otherwise been simply another tease cuts into your chest. He is a particular kind of distant now, has been since you have lost the Nine. The setback angered you as well, but your husband seems wholly consumed with the need to have them in his grasp again. Perhaps because he had poured part of himself into the making of those Rings. Not like that is any consolation. There’s a strain between you now, and nothing playful about it—only a sense of dread sinking its claws into your heart.

At an uncharacteristic loss for a snide reply, you clench your mouth shut and step aside to let him do the work.

But Celebrimbor does not relent. No matter how many arrows your husband plants in him, how much pain he endures, his lips remain sealed and the location of the Nine firmly withheld. Your husband speaks of the Orcs ravaging his city, and Celebrimbor speaks of the birds that used to fly to the river who are now silenced. Your husband pleads with him to let him share the wonders of the Rings with the world, and Celebrimbor speaks of the peace he is soon to find in death.

“There are ways to keep you alive,” is Sauron’s grim reply. “My wife’s skill being the most efficient of them.”

“Is it?” you question quietly. “I thought I’d... ‘lost my touch’.”

You don’t bother to look at him as you speak the bitter words. For a while now, you’ve been leaning against the wall near the window, staring out at the darkened horizon. You don’t need to see your husband to picture the piercing gaze he turns towards you, or the tick in his jaw as he grouses, “Now is not the time—”

“It’s never the time.” Your head whips to look at him, and you flinch when you find him closer already than you had expected, staring you down. But you’re long past being intimidated by such gestures. You only meet your husband’s gaze defiantly. “I no longer wish to do this.”

There is the smallest furrow of his brow, equal parts surprised and disturbed. You hardly ever refuse each other. Especially in moments as critical as this. Glancing at Celebrimbor, you see his bloody brow is knitted in confusion, as if he hadn’t truly expected you to give heed to his words. And it is not for him that you are doing this—but your husband follows your line of sight, and his gaze has gone from displeased to wrathful as it returns to yours.

“I’ve never known you to shy away from a little blood,” he says, voice low and menacing as he steps closer, crowding you into the wall. “Or perhaps it is not the torment, but the Elf on whom it is being inflicted that stays your hand?” He takes hold of your wrist as he speaks, lifting it between your chests as he closes his fingers over yours with misleading delicacy. “Is that it, my love? Has our dear Celebrimbor grown on you at last?”

“Don’t be absurd,” you huff out, making to walk past him—but he slams your hand into the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours, trapping you as you gasp and glare. Your free hand pushes against his chest to no avail, while his cups your cheek to make you look him in the eye.

“Is this why you tell him of our past so freely?” he growls, his breath hot and heavy on your lips. “Why you justify yourself, hoping to find forgiveness, perhaps? Compassion?” He trembles with rage as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip. “...desire?”

Rage blinds you, raw and animalistic—and like an animal, you bite onto his finger, shoving him in the chest at the same time. He stumbles back, glaring down at his hand. Your teeth have drawn black blood, and you furiously wipe it off your lips with the back of your hand.

“How dare you?” You charge for him and hit his chest again, putting enough of your powers behind it that he almost doesn’t catch himself and tumbles to the ground. “How dare you accuse me of such treachery?” you scream. Tears of rage gather in your eyes, while his are a mix of disbelief and anger. “After all I have done for you. All the ways I have proven my devotion, the oaths we swore, the centuries we have lived for nothing but each other—”

“You speak as though I were a stranger to your jealous anger,” he retorts. “As if you did not pierce me with your rageful glare each time as I so much as looked Mirdania’s way—”

“I did not mean it as you do!” you cry out. “It was a game, it’s what we do! You know that.”

For a moment, only your heavy breathing fills the room. Yours and your husband’s as you stare each other down, neither willing to yield. But there is also the faint sound of Celebrimbor’s, who lies nearly forgotten in the rubble. It reminds you what it was that had been gnawing at you in the first place. You shut your eyes briefly, willing your voice to be calm and composed as you speak.

“I’ve done my fair share of dark deeds, most in the name of our love,” you say, this time heading towards your husband in a peaceful manner. “I shall do more, if needed. Worse. But this—what is happening here...” You nod your head, infuriatingly helpless as you admit, “He’s right. It means something to me. To us. This is exactly what Morgoth put us through. You are asking me to do what he made me to do you.” Your voice begins to tremble with long-suppressed grief. “And you, in your greed for those Rings, could not care less what it does to me to think of that time, let alone reenact it.”

Your husband stares as though you’ve said something incomprehensible.

“All depends upon the Rings,” he all but whispers, willing you to understand. This time when he takes one of your hands in his, the gesture is somehow both tender and desperate, as if you’ll slip away. “All of this... is for us,” he vows.

That sliver of doubt in your chest is enough to break you.

“Is it?” you breathe out shakily, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Because it is your blood you have poured into the Nine. Not ours.”

You pull away from him—to his devastation, written plainly on his face. Your hand shakes as you wipe away your tears. A deep, aching desire burns in you to be away from this place, to start anew. You feel it is the only way to fix what has been broken, even if you can’t even tell where the divide between you lies or where it has begun.

“We shall soon have an army,” you try to reason. “Power beyond imagining, even without the Nine. No doubt, with time the Rings will find their way to you—”

“And you would have me wait for them even one moment more?” he says in disbelief. You give him a sorrowful smile.

“I have awaited your return for an eternity,” you say. “Perhaps it is your turn to wait for my sake.”

His voice is so faint you barely hear as he asks, “Or what?”

A terrible pause follows. There’s a threat in your eyes, which you don’t dare to speak out loud. You are not even sure you would be capable of doing such a thing—if, even just as another game between you, as an attempt to rile him up, even just for a brief time, you might truly find the strength or the will to turn and walk away—

It’s as if he senses the shape of those words in your mind, and they clip his breath. In an instant, he takes your face in his hands, his hold on you desperate and his eyes feral.

“If you betray me... if you forsake me...” he breathes out the word like it’s poison, planting daggers in his throat as he speaks it, “I shall forget all thoughts of healing, and raze Middle-Earth to the ground so that I am all that is left in the world for you to return to.”

“Even the Rings?” you ask, gripping his wrists to keep him close, every inch of you weak at the tortured yearning in his declaration. “Would you vanquish them as well, if it meant I would return to you?”

For a moment, his eyes widen as though you have stabbed him. Then they darken with determination.

“I shall have you... and the Rings,” he swears. “Nothing less.” His lips meet yours roughly, briefly, like he wants to prove they are still his to kiss. “Nothing...” He does it again. “...less.”

And this time, you believe him. You are desperate to, and mad with longing, ready to lose yourself to your husband’s touch and let it purge this new fear that has crept inside your heart, whispering insidiously that peril for the love you share lies on the path ahead of you. But your embrace is cut short by Celebrimbor’s voice.

“Shadow of Morgoth!” he calls out. You and your husband break away and turn to him, and the sheer defiance in his gaze chills you to the bone. “You shall have neither,” he says fiercely. “The Rings of Power shall destroy you. This twisted... mockery of love shall be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. And in the end,” his voice grows to a guttural cry, “I foresee it is the very fruit of it that shall be your utter ruin!”

You gasp in horror. It’s as though the dread within you has spoken from his mouth. Your husband is equally affected, though he is moved to rage rather than fear. In an instant, he has picked up a spear, reached Celebrimbor and impaled him in the stomach, lifting him up against the pillar.

“You’re wrong!” he growls up at the Elf moaning in pain. “We shall rule together,” he declares, almost in a craze, “and be masters of our own creations.”

Even now, even like this, Celebrimbor smiles defiantly. “No,” he says. “You shall be slaves to them. And to each other. Sauron... the Abhorred... and his Accursed Bride. Lord and Lady of the Rings.”

And so, Celebrimbor gives his last breath.

You’ve seen beings die before. You’ve been responsible for it. You can’t remember the last time it’s left you as hollow as it does now, Celebrimbor’s final words still lingering in the air around you.

“It’s only words,” you murmur in the silence, to convince the both of you. “They mean nothing.”

Your husband drives the end of the spear into the ground, leaving the body propped up against the pillar.

“I wanted to do worse,” he says blankly, staring at the ground. “But you wished for this to be over. So I did as you asked.” He lifts his gaze to yours. “How could his words be true... when there is nothing I would not do to keep you?”

His words steal your breath—but what truly claws at your heart, leaving it raw and trembling within your chest, is the fact that a lone tear has swelled in his eye, and slipped down his cheek.

“You are weeping,” you whisper, awe-stricken. “I have not seen your tears since...”

Your throat closes around the words.

“Do you doubt me, my love?” he murmurs. “Do you doubt us?”

His voice, weak and pained, undoes you.

“No,” you breathe out. “No, no, no!”

You all but run to him and throw your arms around his neck, whimpering as he wraps you in a desperate embrace. He releases a ragged breath, his heartbeat rampant against your chest, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder that makes you shiver. “We will have all that we have been striving for,” you promise against his neck, then pull back to look into his eyes. “Soon. Together.”

“My love,” is all he whispers in return. You cup his face with the most gentle touch, fingers brushing his fair hair before you press your lips to his cheek, cherishing each drop of his tears that you are kissing away.

“My love,” you repeat as if in prayer. You rest your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently nudging at the bow made of his hair as you simply stand there, holding him with his cheek to yours.

Celebrimbor was wrong. You were wrong to fear. No feeling so soul-consuming in its might could ever be shattered. Not by powers of flesh, not by those over flesh. You are sure of it now.

It’s like this that the Orcs find you as they barge into the forge room with bloody weapons in their hands. One gestures for the others to halt while you and your husband face them, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Are you him?” he asks, some semblance of hope in his gruff voice. “Are you Sauron?”

“I have many names,” your husband says, as always. “But her...” he wraps his arm around your waist as you hold your chin high, “you shall call ‘my Queen’.”

Previous fic with same reader -> Kill and make up

Next fic with same reader -> The Two

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 4

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, minor talk of CM type violence, smut, fingering, oral, face sitting, daddy kink. Sorry not sorry at how long this chapter is. LOL. A/N: Emily's taglist is now up to 50, so if you find that you're suddenly not being tagged it's simply because I haven't seen you interacting with fics at all or in my notifs (while i understand that yes, life is busy, we have things like school, work, families that take priority over reading/interacting, there are also people out there who fill out a taglist form and then are never heard from again) and i want to be able to tag the people who are actively reading things, or at least bookmarking them to read later kinda thing.

Emily woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand, her eyes scrunching as she tried to avoid it but knew it would likely wake you up if she didn’t silence it. To her surprise when she rolled over the hotel room was empty, the sheets on your bed tossed back and you were nowhere to be seen. Sitting up she swiped open the messages on her phone, discovering that you and Spencer had found a lead and were already down at the precinct starting to put things together despite the sun not even being up yet.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Emily nearly grumbled as she strode into the bull pen, making a beeline for the coffee and you let out a small laugh.

“I managed to knock over the entire toiletry shelf when I showered and you didn’t budge an inch, I assumed you needed the beauty sleep.” Your voice had half a tease in it and Emily did her best not to roll her eyes, “figured we’d loop you in once we had something.”

“Which we do.” Spencer cut in, gesturing toward the white board, his laptop open with Penelope on a video call on the spare desk.

“And?” Emily asked.

“Wilson was right about the bracelets.” Garcia began, “we looked through everything and we found one in the exact same colours in the first case with the name Lorelei embroidered into it. The girl’s name was Jessica and the parents don’t know and Lorelei, so y/n made the call to start looking at men who had lost a daughter or sister around the age and description of these girls.”

“The unsub had some kind of contact with every one of these girls before they were abducted.” Spencer explained, “he was using the bracelets to mark them, to make them feel safe, so they’d be easy to spot in a group.”

“Updates?” Emily glanced between the three of you right as the rest of the team finally came into the building, tuning into the conversation and settling into the area.

“I’m waiting on a couple of run throughs but I’ve got three names and addresses for you already.” Penelope replied, clacking away before the swoosh noise echoed through the speakers and everyone’s phone’s pinged, “good luck.” She shot a grin to the camera before it went to black and the rest of you turned to each other.

As it turned out, your hunch was incredibly right, and it didn’t take long before you were able to track down the unsub. He’d watched as his younger sister was stalked, kidnapped, assaulted and killed, his parents wanted nothing to do with him, committing him until he was eighteen and allowed to be free, resulting in more tragedy for everyone else. Considering your find Emily let you take lead in the field and made sure you were comfortable with the take down before letting you have that too. She felt a little twinge of worry sending you in with a mentally unstable unsub, but everyone had your back. Instead she was pleasantly surprised with how well you handled it, you remained calm the entire time, though in her opinion as unit chief you did lower your weapon a little too early, but had she been in your position she would have done the same. It was about earning trust and getting him to let the girl go, let her come to you before he could be arrested to make sure she wasn’t harmed.

The entire unit let out a collective breath of relief when everything was finally done, and thanks to your overnight work, it was barely passed noon. Paperwork was tedious as always, but it managed to be finished shortly before dinner time, the BAU team finally making their way out of the local precinct.

“Well, we’re considering that a win,” Rossi started, clapping Morgan on the back as the group left the office, “should we get dinner, maybe some drinks?”

“You buyin?” Derek asked with a grin and Dave laughed.

“Only if it’s at that bar by the hotel.”

“Honestly, all I need are a good order of chicken wings and mozza sticks.” You laughed and Rossi cheered.

“Wilson agrees!”

“They have deep fried pickles?” JJ asked with a grin and Rossi let out a playful scoff with a nod, accepting that he would foot the bill for dinner and some drinks as everyone laughed, climbing into vehicles.

*

There wasn’t much surrounding the hotel you were staying at, meaning the diner down the road and the bar across the street saw a lot of the team over the last couple of days. It wasn’t anything fancy, not particularly a dive bar, but the vibes were there. Just big enough that patrons weren’t up in each other’s business, mainly regulars spread through the space, a couple of dart boards and a single pool table. The group’s table was covered in appetizers half picked through as everyone wound down from the case with a couple jugs of beer. Everyone was in good spirits, joking and bantering across the table, Derek was currently in a battle with Spencer, attempting to get him into a round of darts where the loser had to pick up the next round. Spencer in turn was trying to turn it around into a game of pool that he had a better chance of winning and Derek was firing back about how there was only one pool table, it could be hours before it freed up and the drinks were looking pretty empty. Spencer fired back with something about the statistics of the game which fired up an entire playful argument until you finally stood up, clapping Spencer on the shoulder,

“Okay, okay, boys simmer down. I’ll get the next round; no more arguing let’s try to keep the team spirit up.” You laughed, grabbing your wallet.

“You really are all about the team spirit, aren’t you?” Emily cut in with a smirk and you shot her a glare.

“Don’t…”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m sure we can find some pom poms somewhere, show off your moves Wilson.”

“You were a cheerleader?” JJ cut in and you let out a huff, rolling your eyes before glaring at Prentiss.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“Yeah, sure.” Emily laughed.

“Ohoho… so you play dirty?” You raised a brow and she grinned your way.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before anyone else at the table even realized what was happening Derek cut in, leaning forward in his seat to get a better eyeline toward you.

“Were you a like, go team, yay sports rah, rah cheerleader, or a it’s its own sport, competitive cheerleader?”

“Competitive.” You said with a huff, quickly stepping away from the table before anyone else could get their questions in and you moved up to the bar.

Much to your disdain, by the time you returned to the table with fresh pitchers of beer the conversation of cheerleading was still going on. At the very least it wasn’t being directed toward you, and more a general conversation topic, but you knew it was only a matter of time before Emily would reroute it back to you and bombard you with questions.

It appeared that whatever higher power was up there tonight was on your side by the time everyone was just over halfway through their third round. Derek, while complimenting the actual competitive cheerleaders, was also lowkey mocking the stereotypical ones who merely pranced around with pom-poms doing silly arm movements and cheers. He went to demonstrate said arm movement and managed to aggressively knock over the beer that he’d just refilled. The glass somehow managed to not break but the entire pint splashed its way directly onto Emily who let out a dramatic gasp, attempting to jump back from the table, swearing in Derek’s direction.

There was no holding back, the table bursting out into laughter, especially as Emily grabbed an onion ring and hurled it in Derek’s direction. Through his laughter he did his best to apologize, swiping a pile of napkins so she could dry off, though the attempt was futile, she was covered in beer.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave.” She sighed, pushing her chair back from the table, “Morgan’s buying the next round on my behalf.”

“Hey! C’mon!” He protested and she simply laughed, waving a quick goodnight to everyone before she left the bar.

Rossi managed to grab a cloth from the bartender and actually get the table cleaned up while Derek got the next round for the group. Things seemed to calm down a little bit after that, you were picking at the plate of deep fried pickles with JJ, answering a few questions here and there about your past cheerleading, thankful the rest of the table had moved on with different conversations. The pool table finally freed up, Spencer and Derek disappearing in that direction and the three of you left at the table decided to call it a night, knowing it would likely be an early flight home the next morning.

You swung the door to your hotel room open, unsurprised to hear the shower running after Emily’s beer mishap. You flicked on the tv for some noise, mainly to alert Emily that you’d returned, you didn’t want to scare her when she came out of the shower. Wandering around the hotel room you made sure you’d collected everything previously scattered around the space, packing up your go bag and plugging in your iPad and phone. You took a couple of minutes scrolling through your phone, clearing notifications before making sure your alarm was set for the next morning. Standing from the bed you began stripping out of your clothes, folding them up into your bag before you found yourself distracted with the tv, zoning out from reality while your attention was focussed there.

“You always wear such lacy shit under your work clothes?” Emily’s voice broke through your trance and you jumped, turning to her.

“Jesus.” You swore, unsure whether it was because of her scaring you or the fact that she was wrapped in an almost too small hotel towel, water droplets still clinging to her skin, her hair pulled up off her neck to stay out of the shower stream. She bit her lip between her teeth, trying to make sure her eyes weren’t lingering on your body for too long and in the minute of distraction you managed to find your words, taunting her with the same phrase she’d teased you with at the bar. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Emily chuckled, a smirk taking over her cheeks as she stepped up to you, “it is rather fun to use my imagination.” Her hand raised, fingers ghosting over your jawline, “though as pretty as that lace is, I’d prefer it off.”

“But…” You breathed out, the proximity to her, the fact that you were both only seconds away from being naked, the alcohol surging through your veins, everything was fighting against the ethical thoughts in your brain.

“What’s the harm in one more night?” Emily asked, her voice dropping, fully as affected as you were in that moment, though she dropped her hand, wondering if she should take a step back.

“We shouldn’t…?” You managed to actually string the words together, even if there was a question at the end, because you knew that rules didn’t fucking matter to you, especially right now.

“If you don’t want to then we can forget this, I’ll get dressed.” She was about to actually step back when the words slipped from between your lips and she the spark surge through her body.

“Like hell I’m letting you put clothes on right now.”

She chuckled darkly, closing the space between the two of you, her lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss, one that both of you moaned in to. Neither of you could help it, it had been too long, too many days of yearning to feel the other’s body against yours, too many nights of pretending it was them touching you instead of your own hands or toys. Emily’s hands wound around you, easily undoing your bra and you let it fall to the floor, a second later and they were groping at your chest, pinching at your nipples and you let out a whine into the kiss.

Emily took advantage of that, slipping her tongue into your mouth, groaning over the taste of you, one she had been craving for weeks. Your tongues danced with grace against each other and it wasn’t long before your fingers slipped into Emily’s towel and it fell to the floor. She practically shivered, exposed to the cool hotel room air and in retaliation nipped at your lip, pulling a gasp from you that broke the kiss.

“You still going to be daddy’s good girl?” She husked, her lips kissing right below your ear and it was your turn to shiver.

“Yes…” you felt your body pulse at the way she kissed down the column of your neck, knowing you were going to lose all your coherent thoughts in a mere matter of minutes. Instead your hands ghosted up her sides, toying with her chest, squeezing her, feeling the vibration of her moan against your skin as she continued to kiss your neck. One of your hands slid down her body, slipping between her legs and Emily sucked in a heavy breath, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers sliding through her folds, “I want to taste you.”

Emily felt herself flutter at your words, a small chuckle escaping her lips before she bit into your neck, her hands resting on your hips, tugging you to her as she backed herself up towards one of the beds. Your lips met once again, moving with grace as you fell back onto the bed, shifting slightly so you were both comfortable as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. Emily wasn’t about to protest as you began to crawl down her body, leaving little kisses and nips on her skin as you went, her legs practically falling open the instant you were between them. She’d been aching for your touch for as long as she could remember, each time your fingers brushed hers, every moment that you’d poked her to get her attention she’d wished the feeling would last a little longer, that your hands would find their way to where she really wanted to be touched. Your hands grazed up her thighs, a hand sliding onto her pussy and your fingers spread her open, a small swear leaving your lips.

“Fuck…”

She was already glistening in the low light of the hotel room and you weren’t about to waste a minute before your mouth surged toward her, wrapping around her lower lips and you sucked her into your mouth briefly. Emily let out a light gasp, one of her hands shooting down to tangle into your hair and you couldn’t help the grin, knowing you were on the right path. Your tongue lapped out, swiping through her, flicking at her clit and she shuddered before you returned to her cunt, tongue dipping in as far as you could. She tasted like absolute heaven, better than you ever could have imagined and you knew that you’d never be able to get enough, burying your face in between her legs.

“Oh fuck…” she whined, “just like that angel…”

You groaned into her, the vibration sending shivers down her spine, her thighs twitching around you as you continued your movements. Your tongue pulled out as much of her wetness as it could, smearing it around her pussy, nose nudging against her clit and she gasped. You shifted your mouth up, lips wrapping around her clit as you sucked it into your mouth, tongue dancing patterns across it and her hips rocked up suddenly, a moan leaving her as her fingers tightened in your hair.

“So good.” She praised, her eyes fluttering shut as her head dropped into the pillows, heat coursing through her body.

Your mouth dropped down again, eager for another proper taste of her, sucking her juices from her while her hips rocked against your mouth. She let out a quiet cry, her legs threatening to squeeze tight around you and you let out a small chuckle, knowing the vibrations from it were enough to make her gasp once more. You shifted back up to her clit, a heavy broad lick across it before you wrapped your lips around it again. Emily let out a whimper and you felt yourself pulse around nothing at the sound, the desire to make her come growing larger with each second that passed. Your hand snuck up, toying with her dripping cunt before slipping two fingers in and she moaned.

“Fuck, yes baby… oh fuck!”

Even with just one pump of your fingers you could already feel her pulsing around you, pussy wet and warm around your digits. You thrusted them in time with the way your tongue was lapping over her clit before they curled within her, searching for that sensitive spot. It took a couple of tries but when she cried out, her hips jolted up off the bed and you knew you’d found it, not letting up as you continued to fuck her. Your fingertips brushed against the spot with each curl of your fingers, your mouth increasing suction around her swollen clit with each thrust of your hand you could feel her pussy pulsating around you, little whimpers leaving her lips as her body began to shudder.

“Oh fuck! Fuck!” The cry escaped her right as her hips thrust up, her fingers clenching in your hair, holding your face into her cunt and her body shook, juices dribbling their way down your wrist. Emily panted, thankful that you pressed a gentle kiss to her clit before your mouth left her body, your fingers gently fucking her through her orgasm.

You barely had enough time to crawl up her body before she was praising how good you were and flipping you on your back to return the favour. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that she was as talented with her mouth as she was but you still found yourself gasping for air, your entire body tingling at the way her tongue lapped through you, teasing at your clit with each lick. Her hands pinned your hips down to the bed, giving you only a little leeway to rut up against her, begging for more contact. Your breath picked up, your chest practically heaving when her fingers slid into you and her mouth wrapped around your clit.

“Oh god!” You cried out, “fuck, fuck.. feels.. so, fucking good!” A hand found its way into her hair, tugging at the roots as she continued to eat you and you couldn’t do much more than whimper. Her fingers pumped inside you, your pussy clenching down around them harder with each thrust of her hand, electricity shooting through you as the coil got tighter and tighter. It didn’t take much longer, a hard thrust from her hand as her tongue flicked against you and you were coming, body trembling, juices leaking out onto the bedspread as Emily chuckled against your skin.

You were smarter than to think that the two of you were done after only that, Emily crawling back up over your body, lips meeting yours in a lazy kiss while you caught your breath. Her lips trailed down your neck, teeth nibbling at your collarbone before she sucked a nipple into her mouth and your breath hitched in your throat, your nails scratching into her skin. Your hands began to trail across her body before one of them found its way between her legs again.

Neither of you were sure how many rounds you had gone, or how much time had passed since you first stepped into the hotel room and neither of you cared in the least. Emily currently had you on your back, fingers deep in your drenched pussy, squelching sounds echoing through the room as she straddled your thigh, grinding down onto it, smearing her juices along your skin.

“You’ve got one more in you angel, I know you do.” She cooed, her fingers crooking inside you and you groaned, your body jolting toward the touch, your thigh clenching just right that you pulled a gasp from her as her hips rutted against your body. The pleasure was prickling just beneath the surface of your skin, causing a shimmer of sweat to be contributed to the stickiness in the room.

“Fuck… fuck…” you cried, “more! Please daddy!”

Emily shifted forward, two of her fingers slipping into your mouth and you happily accepted them, tongue swirling around them, sucking them deeper between your lips. You figured it was an attempt to keep you quiet, but you didn’t care either way.

“God, look at you.” She murmured, a dark chuckle leaving her, “next time I’ll have to pack the strap, I just know those pretty lips would look so fuckin gorgeous wrapped around my cock.”

You released her fingers with a gasp, moaning into the room as the fingers in your cunt picked up their speed, matching the rhythm that Emily was riding your thigh. She shifted her weight back onto it, letting out a low moan before she spat onto your pussy, the spit slicked fingers that had been in your mouth moving to your clit, rubbing furiously. Your hands quickly found her hips, guiding them in the same pace that she was fucking you, urging her to grind down harder on you as a string of whines left your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it baby?” She gasped, her fingers nearly stilling as they pressed up hard against your g-spot and your body began to tremble, “you gonna come for me? Come for daddy, angel…”

Her breath was ragged, nearly as ragged as yours as you felt the heat burst deep within you, letting out a moan as shook underneath her. She let out a dark chuckle, hand shifting from your clit to brace against your hip, picking up the pace she was riding your thigh. You grabbed at her wrist, pulling her fingers from you with a whimper while you caught your breath, tugging her upwards.

“Get up here.” You muttered, “want you to come on my face.”

Emily laughed, crawling up you as you readjusted quickly before she settled over your face and lowered her dripping pussy to your lips. You eagerly lapped your tongue out, groaning over her taste, one you knew you would never grow tired of; you wanted as much of her as possible tonight, no clue if you’d get another chance or not. She braced herself on the headboard, beginning to ride your face, moaning when your nose brushed against her clit. You shifted your lips upward, wrapping around it, you could tell she was close by how heavy she was grinding down on you, the fact that each roll of her hips was accompanied by a louder moan. Suddenly she grabbed at your hand, pulling your fingers into her mouth, muffled moans vibrating around them before she slipped off them,

“Touch yourself,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, “wanna come together.”

You did exactly as she asked, your hand rubbing at your clit as you increased the strength you sucked at hers, moaning into her cunt, feeling the way her juices were smearing over your chin. Her clit was throbbing between your lips, aching each time your tongue flicked over it and in some miracle she cried out at in the same moment you groaned into her pussy, reaching your peaks at the same time. Her thighs trembled on either side of your face, her fingers gripping the headboard tightly as she tried not to drop all her weight down onto you. Panting, she collapsed down onto the bed beside you, her hand tickling at your bare skin while you both caught your breath.

*

The alarm blared through the room what felt like only a moment after you’d closed your eyes and you grumbled, reaching a hand out to silence it, knowing you had multiple set.

“Please tell me there’s enough time for coffee and breakfast.” Emily groaned and you chuckled, rolling onto your back you grimaced slightly. As you woke up fully you could feel just how sticky your body was,

“More than that.” You replied, “god knows I need a shower.”

You pushed up to sitting, swinging your feet off the bed and the sheet slipped off you, goosebumps breaking out on your skin in the cool morning air. Behind you Emily’s eyes were dragging up your body and when you glanced over your shoulder you caught her smirk.

“What?” You laughed.

“Care if I join you?” She raised a brow and your eyes widened every so slightly.

“Oh.. I thought last night might’ve been alcohol fueled…”

“Certainly didn’t hurt. Still would’ve done it stone cold sober.”

“Well then… I guess you’re more than welcome.” You giggled.

“What happens it Vegas stays in Vegas.” She shrugged, slipping from the bed and you laughed.

“We’re in Atlanta…”

“Saying still applies.” Emily smirked, spanking you before nudging you toward the bathroom.

*

The jet soared through the air, a relaxed vibe shifting through it, Rossi and Spencer were on the left side, half involved in the conversation, half reading their own things. You somehow had ended up beside Emily, across from Derek who was beside a currently empty seat. JJ returned with yet another coffee refill, dropping down into the spare seat with a groan,

“Did anyone else have a terrible sleep last night or was it just me? I feel like I woke up every twenty minutes.”

“Might’ve been the couple up fucking all night that woke you up.” Derek muttered, grin on his cheeks, his voice shifting into a mocking tone, “oh, harder daddy, please!” He laughed, “some people into some kinky shit.”

“Oh please.” Emily laughed beside you, managing to cover up the way her body had stiffened at his words, “as if you aren’t into some kinky shit.”

“Baby girl you wouldn’t even believe what I’m into.” He grinned across at her and she rolled her eyes before he nudged at your foot with his, “what about you, you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby.” You cast him a friendly smile and prayed your years with the FBI was enough to handle covering up a lie.

“Yeah? Prentiss didn’t keep you up all night?”

“What?” You did your best not to stutter and Emily tensed again beside you while Derek let out a loud laugh again.

“I’ve bunked with her before, she snores like a sailor!”

“Oh I do not!” She let out an offended scoff, swatting at him with the book she was holding.

A playful scuffle broke out before Dave called for the ‘kids’ to calm down and things finally did. It wasn’t much longer before the jet landed back at Quantico and you all went about your separate ways, taking the rest of the day off to recoup from the trip. It was only when you got to your car you realized your keys were still in your desk drawer. Letting out a heavy sigh you turned around, trudging back through the building. The BAU floor was practically deserted, but right as you reached your desk you heard an office door close in the direction of Emily’s.

“You forget something?” She asked, shouldering her back as she wandered through the bull pen.

“Keys.” You held up the ring, sliding the drawer they were in shut, slightly surprised when she approached you. From the moment you’d landed, there was something different about her, the way she slipped back into this Quantico role, the one where she was the boss, where this was work and that was it. Something slightly different about the way she held herself. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.” You shot her a smile and turned to head for the door when she called out.

“Y/n!”

“Yeah?” You turned back to her, your head tilting at the frown on her face and you raised a brow.

“It can’t happen again.” Her head shook, “if any of them find out—”

“I.. have no clue what you’re talking about.” You replied and it was her turn to look confused.

“What…?” She fumbled and you simply shrugged,

“What happens in Vegas...”

_______________

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[artistsfuneral]

(this contains graphic description of violence and is absolutely skippable if that's not your thing!)

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The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.6

“Gentlemen,” he greeted the soldiers with a face-splitting grin and a courtly bow of his head. “It appears, there has been a misunderstanding.” The men stared at him, unmoving, tense. Behind them Aiden was still caught in his rage, not able to recognize Jaskier by his scent or sound anymore. “Why don't we all just sit down and talk about this like civilized people? I'm sure we can find some common ground.”

The bard's smile never wavering, he took a step forward only for the five soldiers to draw their swords at him. Steel for humans, Geralt's voice echoed in his thoughts as if any of that mattered. Silver had never stopped Jaskier before. Holding his hands up in what he knew was commonly understood as a surrendering gesture, he cocked his head to the side, watching as the archer reached behind his back for his bow. “How about some tea? I have this lovely mixture of zerrikanian spices that goes great with the apples you can buy around here. Oh, that reminds me! I wanted to keep some for apple cakes! Which would mean we can't use all of the tea, but surely some of you would prefer chamomile anyways, there's always one person that-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Jaskier's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth. His initial smile had fallen off his lips as he stared at the man that had interrupted him with pure bewilderment. “Well that was incredibly rude. You are not getting any tea from me now.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” The same soldier as before yelled at him, spitting towards Jaskier's boots as he did so. The bard pulled a face in disgust.

“In the name of the crown of Redania, you are under arrest to be executed in the capitol!”

The forest was quiet around them, silent except for the wind in the trees and the metallic sound of the redanian soldiers readying themselves to arrest him.

The bard stared at them unblinking.

“Drop to your knees, this instance!” another soldier ordered harshly.

Jaskier's head fell back as he started to cackle loudly. The sound coming from deep inside his chest and forcing way through his throat like creature of its own.

“I don't think so, darling.”

Jaskier took a deep breath and exhaled it as the world slowed down around him.

They had hurt Aiden. Five soldiers in front of him, despicable creatures, faceless and worthless. Throats easily accessible from above. Exposed ankles. An unprotected back.

The Archer; almost too easy to kill.

A sixth trying to sneak up on him from behind. Useless.

His pack and lute slipped from his shoulders. The dull thumb cushioned by the forest floor. Aiden cried out in pain.

Jaskier inhaled and spun his body around, faster than any witcher ever could. His short sword was off his belt and in the man's eye socked before the soldier could even react. It popped with a horrible squelching sound that turned into the cracking of bones as the blade dove deeper and deeper into his skull. He was dead before his scream could form in his chest. Jaskier took hold of the man's throat and pulled his sword out, blood and chunky bits of soft tissue being forced out of his skull. He had been the one that made fun of the scar in Aiden's beautiful face. Now his body dropped to the ground lifelessly. Jaskier released his breath.

An arrow seared past his head and struck the bark of a tree not an arms length behind Jaskier. The archer's face lost all color as he watched the body of his fellow soldier hit the dirt floor. Freezing blue eyes fixated on their new target. Pulling a knife out of his blood splattered sleeves, Jaskier mourned the death of his favorite teal doublet and threw the barbed knife at the archer. He dropped to his knees like a puppet who's strings had been cut, cradling his stomach as a fearful scream broke from his lips. They always screamed in the end.

Running towards the next soldier, Jaskier couldn't help but to roll his eyes when the archer pulled the knife out, gutting himself in the progress.

The horses whinnied in panic, fighting against the reigns. Aiden snarled.

The soldier closest to him raised his arm high above his head, ready to strike down at the bard. Jaskier scoffed. Angling his own short sword upwards he closed the distance between himself and the other man and stabbed him right into the pit of his raised arm. The tip of his blade tore through flesh and bone until it hit the underside of the soldier's shoulder guard. Jaskier's opponent let out a primal howl as he dropped his sword to the slowly reddening forest floor. The bard ignored him, jerking his blade back out with brute force and kicking him to the side, eyes already focused on the next one.

Their swords met, loudly crashing against each other. The screeching sound of steel carving into steel seemed dull to Jaskier's ears. He inhaled and the world slowed down once more. He easily parried the next attack, taking hold of the man's elbow and twisting both of their bodies around, so they were chest to chest. As a result the redanian soldier that had tried to surprise Jaskier from behind found his sword stuck in his comrade's back. Jaskier slit the wounded's throat without hesitating and shoved his dying body towards the other soldier who easily crumbled under the unexpected weight. Mercilessly, the bard jumped on top of the fallen man's chest, breaking his rips and crushing his organs within seconds. This one had dislocated both of Aiden's shoulders for fun. Now he was choking on his own blood. He deserved worse.

Jaskier snarled and took hold of a stray sword, ramming it into a whimpering mess of human flesh on the ground. Two left. His face-splitting smile was back.

Aiden woke to the familiar taste of swallow in his mouth and a pounding headache. His first attempt to open his eyes failed miserably, the midday sun so bright it hurt enough to make him hiss out loud. It still hurt like a bitch the second time, but Aiden was now prepared for it and could work through the awful sensation, thinning his pupils through sheer will.

He found himself lying on the floor, free of chains and rope and with his wounds slowly mending themselves together thanks to the potion. The bard was kneeling right next to him and when he noticed that the Cat had woken up, his cornflower blue eyes softened with relief. During the last month Aiden had been in this exact same situation often enough that he could call it familiar. And yet something in the back of his mind was gnawing at him like a feral dog. “Thank goodness, you're awake again. You honestly had me worried there for a moment! Didn't I explicitly told you not to get caught?” Jaskier scolded him lightheartedly as he helped him to sit up. Nothing about the bard's gentle scent or the typically playful behavior warned the witcher about what he was moments away from seeing.

Aiden's breath caught in his throat as he took in the fucking massacre around them.

The corpses of the redanian soldiers that had overpowered him a few hours earlier littered the floor, broken and mangled as if they'd been mauled by a full pack of werewolves. The stench of blood and death was overwhelming and yet, Jaskier was completely unharmed.

His hands and face were covered in drying blood, as well as his boots and the rest of his clothes, but the bard himself had not a single scratch on him as far as Aiden could tell. “I thought about searching through the camp, see if I can find anything worthwhile, but I wanted to be here for you when you wake up. I hate waking up alone, but the troop leader had a sword that could possibly replace your broken one and hopefully we can find some spare clothes and other useful stuff. If we take their horses with us we can carry a bit more,” Jaskier babbled happily on, completely oblivious to the witcher's inner turmoil. “Not like they need the horses anymore,” he laughed.

Aiden grabbed him by the wrist, finger nails digging into Jaskier's blood-caked skin.

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[clintbartonswife]

i loved you like the sun

Pairings: remus lupin/sirius black Summary: remus centric fic on his history, reunification and future with sirius. Whumptober prompt #27 : scars / 'let me see' Whumptober prompt #30 : borrowed clothing Notes: descriptions of malnutrition and body mutilation (hello lycanthropy!), post-POA masterlist   || whumptober2023 || part two (coming soon)

Remus' heart clenched as he traced the ink lines of the marauder's map. If he closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of the parchment in his hands, he could almost hear James' laugh, Peter asking what was so funny as Sirius whispered sweet nothings in his ear -

He broke that line of thought with a scoff, rubbing his hands over his face. He had run out of tears long ago, instead left with a deep well of bitterness. The best part of his life had been shattered in one night. His best friends murdered, childhood stolen and love of his life arrested as their killer.

Remus had never believed he deserved good things. The marauders had taught him otherwise, surrounding him with blind acceptance and joy. Just as he finally started to believe in his worth, it had all come crumbling down. He was left alone, the way he always knew he was going to be.

Nothing lasts forever.

Movement in the grounds caught his eye. That was unusual, especially considering the late hour and school-wide curfew. Frowning, he took a closer look, blood running cold.

Without a second thought, he tugged on his coat and began running.

The whomping willow whipped around in a frenzy, freezing as Remus hit the notch with an immobulus charm. His feet followed the path that he had walked for years, remembering every dip and turn.

His legs weakened as he raced up the steps in the shack, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He could hear voices faintly through the door, paying them no mind as he crashed into the room.

"Professor Lupin!"

The exclamations from the children flew over his head, eyes set on the crumpled man on the floor.

He was practically wasted away, swamped by black rags that made his pale skin look practically translucent. Even from his place in the doorway Remus could see his veins, entwining with each other like vines under his skin.

Sirius finally turned to him, connecting their eyes. Years of hate, regret, love and pain rushed back through him, overwhelming in their intensity. In that moment, staring into his storm-grey eyes, he knew: Sirius was innocent.

The urge to kiss him was overwhelming, but it was neither the time nor the place. Instead, he spoke.

"Looking a bit ragged, aren't we, Sirius? Finally the skin reflects the madness within."

Sirius' face, which had before looked frightened, lit up with a toothy grin. "You'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you, Remus?"

Relief spread through him, stepping forwards and helping Sirius to his feet. He hesitated once more, before pulling him into an embrace.

The smaller man melted in to him, body sharp and frail. Remus' heart swelled, cheek against Sirius' temple as breathed words escaped him, "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

If only for a moment, everything was okay.

Of course, nothing in Remus' life could stay normal for long. Snape came storming in, Pettigrew escaped, his secret was revealed and Sirius was sentenced to death. He was left to once again pick up the pieces, hiding his grief from those around him.

------

He retreated; resigning from his position at Hogwarts and running away from society once more.

His cottage was his solace, surrounded by thick woods with a boundary enchanted to contain his movements during the full moon. The building was small but cosy, books lining practically every wall.

He had inherited it from his grandfather on his mother's side, located just outside of Powys in Wales. It was the perfect escape, granted to him at the height of the war.

He sighed, tugging on his jumper as he limped towards the kitchenette, fresh scars throbbing with a vengeance. Some sick part of him was glad for the pain, deigning it a punishment for letting the kids down, for letting Sirius down.

A knock on the door resounded through the cottage, Remus flinching at the sudden noise. His fist clenched around the wand in his pocket, instantly on guard.

The knock sounded again, this time followed by a voice.

"Moony, open the door I'm freezing my balls off out here."

His breath caught in his chest, rushing across the room and swinging the door wide open.

Sirius offered a sheepish smile, eyes tired. "Surprise?"

Remus' blinked. "You're here - how... how are you here?"

"Dumbledore may have mentioned a certain hidden cottage that you owned - hope you don't mind but I have brought company."

Remus finally tore his eyes from Sirius, registering the hippogriff lying on the grass behind him. "Uhh -"

"That's Buckbeak. She's a friend."

"Right. Does she... need anything?"

"Nah she's a tough girl - we're both outlaws. Running from the ministry... y'know. Tough stuff."

Remus felt a smile tugging at his lips, "Sounds very... dashing."

"What can I say. Once a rebel, always a rebel. If Minnie could see me now -"

"She still wouldn't agree to dance with you, that's for sure."

Sirius opened his mouth in mock-horror. "Now that's just low."

"Sorry, sorry." Shaking his head fondly, Remus stepped aside, gesturing for the shorter man to come into the cottage. "Welcome to my home."

He took in his surroundings, expression unreadable as the door closed firmly behind him. After what seemed like an age, a smile cracked across his face.

"It's very you."

Remus let out a laugh, "Oh really?"

"I mean - come on, Moony. It's a bookstore in here! And you got your cobblestone fireplace... it's just like..." Sirius cleared his throat, smile dropping slightly, "Like the home we talked about."

Remus dipped his head, cheeks pinkening. "It's not as big as you wanted... or near London. I tried to make the kitchen the way you wanted, but I -"

"You remember."

"So do you."

"Memories. They were all that kept me going."

Remus reached out slowly, allowing Sirius the time to move away if he wanted to. He didn't. Hand slightly trembling, he entwined their fingers, thumb rubbing over Sirius' cold hand.

The apology sat on the tip of his tongue, though he found himself unable to speak. Sirius seemed to understand, lightly squeezing his hand in response.

"So," he said, attempting to lighten the mood, "I don't know about you, but I'm sick of these robes - got anything I can borrow?"

Snapping out of it, Remus finally met his eyes, "Of course. You can have your pick. I doubt you'd be here for more than a day without stealing all my jumpers anyway."

Sirius grinned, walking deeper into the house, "They look better on me."

"Yes they do." Remus breathed, before raising his voice. "The bedroom's other way!"

"I knew that!"

-----

The two of them fell into a routine, comfortable enough, but the tension of unspoken words still hung heavily in the space between them.

Sirius was slowly getting better, regaining more and more of his old spark every day. There were still times when he would get very quiet, sitting in the corner of the front room and staring out of the window, eyes glazed over with memories. Remus would simply brew him a cup of tea, setting it down on the table beside him and gently coaxing him back to the real world with careful touches and hesitant smiles.

He would return the favour by helping Remus on the days when his joints were agitated, brewing simple drafts to help with the pain.

Some nights, when Sirius woke up in a cold sweat, he would curl up at the end of Remus' bed in his dog form. It didn't take long for this to become the norm, the sofa-bed disassembled and Sirius' few items moved into the spare drawers in the bedroom.

It didn't take long for Sirius to catch him half-dressed, eyes silently tracking the new array of scars that covered his torso.

"Let me see." He had said, voice hoarse.

Remus simply let his arms fall to his sides, closing his eyes as hesitant fingers traced over irritated skin.

The moment was suffocatingly intimate, an echo of nights long gone by. It was over far too soon, Sirius letting out an unhappy noise and retreating, transforming into Padfoot and waiting for Remus to get into bed.

"They're just scars," Remus had murmured, blinking sleepily as he finally tugged his tshirt over his head. "Nothing new."

Padfoot huffed.

-----

Writing letters to Harry seemed to help. Sirius would light up every time he received a response, reading them aloud with glee, feet resting on Remus' lap. If he tried hard enough, as he listened he could imagine that everything was normal. That Harry was writing from his bedroom in Godric's Hollow, asking when Uncle Pads and Moony were next visiting as James and Lily laughed downstairs.

The dream always quickly dissipated, replaced with the ever-present weight in his chest.

"I'm glad he's doing okay," Remus said, "Well... as well as you can be when staying with the Dursley's."

"Right?" Sirius exploded, "Petunia was always walking around as if she owned the Earth."

"Her husband's not any better. Do you remember that summer when we helped Lily move out of her parent's house and he called James a slur?"

"I would've punched him if Lily hadn't got to him first." Sirius paused for a moment, shaking his head as the anger built within him. "Miserable bastards didn't even come to their wedding, why the fuck were they given Harry?"

Remus felt a hot poker of shame shoved down his throat. "They wouldn't - You were his godfather, so I thought.. but I was ruled unable to take care of him."

"Rem -"

Shoulders hunching, he wiggled out from underneath Sirius' legs, retreating to the kitchen. The other man followed him.

"Everyone was either dead or gone. Mary... she wanted to be left alone, and I was too tired to even fight their decision. They - they made valid points."

"Moony -"

"They said I was a danger to him."

"You would never hurt Harry -"

"But I almost did! If you weren't there that night, I could've killed them."

Sirius grabbed Remus by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "You are not the wolf. You are Remus. My Remus. One of the most loving, caring people I've ever known. A good man."

His next words were all but punched out of him. "Time changes everything."

Sirius' face hardened. "Not us. Not in any way that matters."

Remus let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and desperately searched the stormy eyes in front of him. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes."

Remus stepped closer to Sirius, hands coming to rest on his hips and thumbs hooking through his belt hoops. "Are you sure?"

Sirius' next response was breathier, his eyes focusing on Remus' lips with the desperation of a parched man staring into a stream. "Yes."

Permission granted, Remus leant in, lips slotting together like puzzle pieces. It felt like coming home, time apart meaningless as their bodies fell back in to the ease of melding together. Sirius' hands moved up into the taller man's hair, pulling a pleased groan from him as their bodies pressed together.

Sirius broke away from the embrace, resting his forehead against Remus' chest as tears wetted the grey t-shirt. The taller man instantly moved to calm him, stroking through his hair as he murmured reassuring words against the soft flesh of his temple.

"I missed you so much."

The whisper was almost unheard, a mournful admission spoken from the heart. All Remus could do was hold him tighter, as if he could protect him from the horrors of the world, and reassure him over and over again that no matter what happened he would never leave his side again.

The problem with promises of that magnitude is that they are incredibly hard to keep.

[bcbdrums]

Love Story, Death Story

AO3 | Too lazy to post on FFn lol sorry maybe later

Soul Eater one-shot series, all major character death. Why? I dunno. The muse demanded.

So here's the first one-shot of sadness.

Other warnings are: graphic descriptions of violence, blood, gore... Anything else will spoil so PM if really concerned but yeah you should know with death and Soul Eater it's not gonna be pretty.

Story under the cut because of graphic content.

Stein waits.

He has waited for three days, not sleeping nor eating or drinking or doing anything between replaying the moment in his head over and over.

The way Spirit stalked toward him, teal eyes bright with anger. Shouting turning to frenzied screaming as he gestured at the lines of red marring his flesh beneath his open shirt front, and then the fists that grabbed him by his collar and somehow held him up despite their equal height.

He replays every word, every look, every sensation... The heat of the air between them as Spirit's fiery words were screamed mere inches from his face. The scent of the sky and air as what should have been a beautiful day darkened beyond his ability to comprehend.

He hadn't meant to do it. It was fear responding for him. Fear that caused him to lift a hand to his weapon's chest and shove him away with a violent scream of his own. What he hadn't expected was the coursing of electricity from his fingertips, the way a shock wave seemed to shift the weapon's body between reality and the incorporeal. And the look of the human body reacting in a way that was definitely not normal was burned into his retinas as surely as if he'd been staring at the sun.

The terror had only grown when Spirit had fallen. When Stein's soul perception had failed to pick up his partner's wavelength from where the weapon lie at his feet, utterly still. And then he had run at the sound of her voice as she approached. The girl who had always looked at him with contempt and was the reason anything had started to come apart.

He had run and run and run away, back home, to the safety of the place that always smelled and felt and breathed of Spirit, except it had been empty ever since that day.

Stein hadn't attempted to find out anything. He knew someone would come, eventually. So instead he waited in desperate agony, fear his only companion as he replayed the fight over and over and over.

When toward the end of the third day a knock sounds at the door, he's hesitant to open it. Hesitant to believe that any world outside his and Spirit's home exists, if only to further suspend time during which he can still hope. But the knock means a conclusion, and as he strides toward the door to embrace the inevitable he has already thought through every option and how he will respond.

Of all people standing there when he opens the door, it is the hammer. Breathless and with sweat-darkened blonde hair sticking to her skin, leaning over on her knees as it seems she has probably run the whole way from the academy.

"Marie," finds its way past his lips somehow, and his voice sounds foreign. Has he even spoken for the past three days?

"I... I wanted to warn you," she gasps out. "They're going to arrest you. They're coming."

Something tightens in Stein's chest. The cold reality he's been avoiding is coming to find him whether he likes it or not.

His arrest could be the result of two or three possibilities, but from the look in Marie's eyes he suspects it is the one he fears the most.

"How is Spirit?" he manages somehow, every word pain. His fingers tighten on the doorknob in anticipation, and he holds his breath.

Marie shakes her head. Stein's throat constricts.

"I... I'm sorry. He didn't make it."

Stein is grateful for the hold he has on the doorknob, for he feels it's the only thing keeping him upright. His head is swimming and he can feel claws of darkness beginning to tear his mind and body apart from the inside out as what he hadn't even realized was his greatest fear has been proven to be reality.

Spirit is dead. Dead at his own hand. He has murdered his partner.

"Stein?"

He can't breathe. He can see the hammer in front of him but its as if through water, distorting vision and choking the life out of his lungs. But of course, his life ended three days ago with the fall of the red-haired weapon.

The only solace, the only thing that brings him back as he watches the movement of the young woman's lips in front of him, is that he has already planned for this. He knows what to do.

"What are you going to do?" Marie asks, and he hears the words echo through his skull like an accusation.

He knows he shouldn't. He knows that Spirit...his Spirit...would hate it. Would do everything in his power to stop him, wouldn't forgive him for this.

Except Spirit will never know.

"You can wait inside," he says, his feet moving somehow even though he feels detached from his body. "How far away are they?"

"Maybe...twenty minutes? I ran all the way here and I left before they did... Stein?"

The meister's eyes have glazed over, and his voice sounds detached even to him when he speaks again.

"Wait for them, and...tell them to get me when they do."

"But Stein—"

"Marie...will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

Stein has a moment of clarity that leaps out from the dizziness and despair as the hammer's golden eye stares at him. She always looks at him with something that he doesn't quite understand. Except that he knows he's looked at Spirit that way, and wishes his weapon would have looked at him that way too.

"When they come to get me... Don't come in."

"What? I don't..."

"Just don't come in."

He holds her gaze until she nods in affirmation, and then he turns to go into his bedroom. He locks the door securely behind him and then goes to his desk. The movements are all mechanical, practiced in his brain over the course of the three days he waited, and that is his only comfort as he picks up the bottle, needle, and scalpel and takes them to go sit on his bed.

His shirt comes off first, and then he injects himself with the anesthetic. He doesn't want it, but it will be less likely he passes out from shock before he can finish for its presence in his bloodstream.

Perhaps twenty minutes, Marie had said. He doesn't wait for the drug to begin working before he feels along his rib cage and then lines the scalpel up accordingly.

The pain when he plunges it into his flesh is like fire, white hot and taking his breath away. For a moment he can't move. He's never gone this far before.

But he deserves it. He draws the scalpel down in studied movements, carving his flesh open.

With each rush of pain that threatens to stay his hand he thinks of Spirit. The way his weapon's eyes rolled back in his head when the electric power of his soul struck him. The way he crumpled to the ground without even a cry of distress. The way there was almost nothing when Stein desperately sought his soul wavelength.

The fury in Spirit's eyes as he'd laid accusations against him, far worse than what had actually happened and not giving Stein a chance to explain. The pure fear Stein had felt that he was going to lose his partner without ever being able to utter a word. He wasn't even sure what had motivated him to lift his hand in the first place.

But now...now with days to think about the possible outcomes, he was absolutely certain of his actions.

The pain hasn't abated but he can't stop. He has to finish before they arrive to take him away to a fate worse than what he has chosen for himself.

The pain is also marring his thoughts he is certain, because his original plan had simply been to remove the flesh entirely with no thought of returning it to its place. But instinct had taken over and left clean lines that would allow his body to mend itself were it given the chance, which of course, it would not.

Blood is already soaking his pants, the sheets, and the hand that holds the scalpel, but actually reaching inside his chest is a new sensation all together. The heat and slick moisture and the smell of iron could have intoxicated him in any other circumstance. But he refused to take any pleasure in this. Except knowing that he would get what he deserved.

His vision is clouding already, but with a concentrated burst of electricity from his fingertips he scorches one rib one next to his sternum, the white mixed with red in a strange combination. Even stranger to see it on himself. And with that done, he breaks the bone with ease.

A cry of pain leaves his lips against his will, and he hopes Marie won't notice or else follow his orders to stay out. He bites his cheeks hard as he moves the rib out of the way until he draws blood in his mouth, hooking the slick and flexible bone around another rib which brings an entirely new pain that he gasps through as blood stains his lips. But he can't let it stop him.

He slowly, gently slides the fingers of one hand in through the narrow gap in his ribs and finds his heart. Beating far too fast and strong as his body goes into shock, but he should be able to hurry this along.

He tugs on the organ ever so slightly, testing its range of motion, and pain tightens his chest again like he's never felt before. And still, none of it...absolutely none, compares to the loss he felt with Spirit's death.

There was no punishment Death could conjure that he'll be satisfied with. Even his own attempt he is sure isn't enough. He should suffer, and for a long time. But still, his anguish has him selfish, and he wants it over quickly. He had argued with himself as he planned that he didn't even deserve the suffering, because to suffer meant he was alive.  But how can he be alive when Spirit is not?

He feels around the organ that pumps his life's blood, but its action is starting to become erratic in his hand, skipping beats and fluttering to stillness for moments before jerking to life once more. Through the stars in his eyes he stares as best he can, fascinated by the mystery of what keeps someone alive and how he can end it with a single action.

That is the goal, after all.

Stein begins to laugh, loudly, forgetting the girl in the other room. Whether from the pain, the irony, or the sheer agony he has been in since Spirit's loss which culminated with the proof of his death, the meister doesn't know.

Former meister. Because what is a meister without a weapon? And he has killed his.

Everything is just so absurd without Spirit. What is the point of his soul even existing without Spirit's? The thought in itself brings pain, but the reality is impossible. Stein can't bear the thought.

He carefully slides the scalpel along his other hand to where he has moved two fingers around an artery. He feels it carefully, feels the sensation of hot liquid running through it in his trembling hand, and sets the blade against it. And then in one quick motion, it is severed.

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

Marie had heard the laughter, listened to it rise and fall, and there had been silence ever since. Her heart raced as she sat on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest and trying to force herself to obey Stein's cold command. The look in his eyes when he'd told her not to go in was terrifying, and made even more so by the utter lack of emotion on his face.

She had just told him that Spirit was dead and all he could do was stare, his eyes lifeless. As if without his weapon anything left of Stein's soul was extinguished too.

Perhaps that was exactly what had happened.

She'd left the front door open, and the officers from the DWMA walked in and asked where the meister was. She told them, tried to explain his command to her not to go in. They said something in complaint about escaping out of a window, but Marie's fear only rose as she hovered behind them as they broke down the door.

She'd promised not to go in. But that didn't mean she couldn't...look, right?

Strangled gasps left the throats of the officers and it propelled her feet to the threshold. And she understood in a split second before she screamed.

His face was dreadful, eyes open and an inhuman smile frozen between his cheeks. Blood dripped from his lips, but it was the hole in his chest, the dangling flesh and the striping of white and red ribs that halted her feet. And still, it wasn't the worst.

One of the officers ran out of the room and she heard him retching into a garbage can somewhere behind her. Another officer had simply turned away and leaned up against a wall, trying to catch his breath. But all Marie could do was stare. Stare at the still and lifeless human heart that rested in one of Stein's hands upon his blood-soaked lap, his body slumped against the wall.

"Oh...Stein," she breathed through a sob. "He wouldn't have wanted this for you. No matter what happened. He wouldn't have wanted this."

Those words and others continued to fall absently from her lips as she stared at, smelled, and tasted death. And somewhere in her grief she wondered if it had been madness...or if it was simply possible for love to run too deep.

[murdrdocs]

girl with the tattoo | e.munson

description. eddie pays for your first tattoo without knowing what it is you’re getting. when you finally show him, he practically flips his shit.

includes. SMUT 16+, dom! eddie, sub!reader, slightly meandom!eddie, doggy style sex, cum play (it’s nasty tbh), handcuffs, degradation, praise, pet names, ass slapping, sweet boyfriend eddie,the whole nine yards it seems, unprotected sex, creampie, fem!reader, AFAB!reader, very brief rimming

a/n. eventually i will stop naming fics after songs but no time soon. this has been sitting unfinished in my docs for so long that i just had to suck it up and finish it so. here we are :D also longest fic i’ve written in a while

word count. 3.6k+ words

Eddie was not known for his patience.

In all of your years of knowing him, you had never seen him display any act of patience. He liked for things to happen immediately, almost as if he only knew what patience is but not how to possess it. Sometimes, just to mock him you would tell him that “patience is a virtue”, only for him to say, “Yeah, whatever that means”.

Knowing about Eddie's impatient personality, you knew that it was going to be hell to keep your new tattoo a surprise. He obviously knew you were getting it, as he was the one funding the new piece. But when you told him that he couldn’t accompany you to the appointment, you swore that he was going to go into cardiac arrest.

He had a mini meltdown, but you managed to calm him. Only for a few hours though as he quickly began to realize that when you said he couldn’t see it, you meant he couldn’t see it until it was healed.

What followed was 2 and a half weeks of Eddie only being allowed to see small fractions of your skin, and using his critical thinking skills to eliminate the places where your tattoo could be, narrowing it down to your upper thigh, ass or boobs.

All the while, you promised him it would be worth it. And while at first he didn’t believe you, now, he truly does.

Because there you are, sitting on his bed with your legs folded under you, wearing a pretty underwear set and looking like the most delicate thing he’s ever seen.

“Do you wanna see it?” You ask, voice light and just a little bit shaky as if you’re nervous.

Eddie was so distracted by just how beautiful you looked that he forgot that you were here for a reason. He’s this close to asking what exactly the ‘it’ is, but then his brain restarts and he comes back to himself, nodding his head so hard he has to stop before it begins to hurt.

You take a deep breath, chest rising and putting your cleavage even more on display. Finally gathering the courage, you shuffle around until your back is facing Eddie. Your head turns, shoulder coming to your chin as you peek back to glance at Eddie.

His dark eyes work to find the tattoo, scanning every crevice of your back from top to bottom until there, he finds it.

Sitting in the middle of your back, directly above your mesh pink panties, is a black butterfly etched into your skin. On either side is some impressive, symmetrical line work, enhancing the focus of the design which is the insect.

Eddie doesn’t respond for a while, and if it weren’t for his heavy breathing and occasional blinking, you would think that he was unconscious.

“Do you like it?” You eventually ask, beginning to shrink in on yourself in fear that you made a permanent mistake.

“Like it?” Eddie repeats, beginning to approach you. “Baby, I love it.”

He reaches a hand out, the right one, and sprawls his fingers out over the tattoo. You flinch at the cold metal of his rings and Eddie chuckles, mumbling out a halfhearted “sorry” before he singles out his pointer fingers and trails it over the linework.

“Really?” You ask, voice light and hopeful. “I was really nervous your guy would fuck it up.”

Eddie’s finger is now in the middle of your back, at the pointed end of the heart and close to the line of your panties. “Adonis never fucks up tattoos. Dude’s got a touch for these sorts of things.”

He takes his finger away and for a brief second, you miss his touch. But you don’t have to miss it for long because then Eddie’s hands grip your waist, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your skin as you turn your head back around to stare at the wall in front of you.

Eddie begins asking you questions about your tattoo; if it hurt during the process, how long did it take. He insists that he should’ve been there to hold your hand and crack jokes, but you reassured him that you had a friend to rely on.

Eventually, you have to reorient him by simply speaking his name.

“Hm?” He hums, thumbs still rubbing your skin.

You sigh, turning your head and glancing over your shoulder. Eddie instantly meets your eye, like a compass to the north.

“You sure it doesn’t look bad? I didn’t make a mistake, right?”

Eddie’s face softens completely. “A mistake? Baby, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You were already so fucking hot but with this tattoo? Whew!” Eddie is back to being theatrical, hands leaving your back to dramatically fan his face.

You giggle, taking the moment to turn your body around completely, shuffling in a semicircle using your knees.

Eddie calms down, his gaze getting that look to it as he tilts his head down. His hand reaches out to find yours, gently tugging it forward.

“Just feel what it does to me. Feel what you do to me.” He brings your hand to his crotch, letting you palm him through his skinny jeans. You can feel the growing bulge against your hand, the familiar feeling igniting that urge within you, sinking all the way down to your belly.

“Eddie.” You whisper, watching Eddie’s tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“It’s healed, right?” He asks. You nod softly and the movement is halted a little too soon when Eddie lunges forward to push his lips against yours.

You welcome his kiss, both of your hands reaching up to cup Eddie’s face. His hands wrap around your wrist, and then he’s pulling them off of his face and guiding them behind your back, one wrist over the other.

When he pulls his hands away, yours stay obediently in their position. You feel Eddie’s smirk against your lips and it acts as a form of nonverbal praise.

Eddie pulls his lips away from yours and you have to restrain yourself from chasing them. He doesn’t stray far and when he speaks you can feel his lips move against yours.

“Wanna fuck you while I look at that pretty tattoo. Will you let me do that?”

It takes you a second to realize that Eddie is asking to fuck you from the back, doggystyle. But when your brain is able to come to that realization, you nod so hard that your nose knocks into Eddie’s and your forehead bumps into his.

He smiles, big and wide, and steadies your head by gripping your cheeks, pushing them together and gazing lovingly at the sight. You attempt to smile and Eddie breaks out into a laugh, squishing and un-squishing your cheeks for the better half of a minute.

Eventually, you ask, “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” But your cheeks make the words come out as jumbled syllables and Eddie asks you to repeat it a few times, until he understands with a loud “Oh!”.

“Of course.” He chirps, pressing his lips to your squished ones before he drops his hands completely and instead uses them to maneuver you in the position he desires: your face pressed down into the sheets and your ass in the air.

Eddie marvels at the sight, wolf whistling at you for a moment. Your hands are still held obediently behind your back and by moving your shoulders, you bring Eddie’s attention to them.

“Just a few more,” He mumbles, trailing off as you hear him move away. You see him from the corner of your eye grabbing his pair of handcuffs. They’re a different pair from the silver ones he had before, these with black fur on the insides and a bit of cushion so they’re comfortable for you.

When he comes back around, his hands peel your panties off and you lift one knee at a time to let him slip them off. Then, his hands pull you up by your hips and his chest presses against your back as his arms encircle you, pulling yours from behind your back with the movement.

You watch as he directs you to position your wrists side by side against your stomach, and then wraps the opened cuffs around each one and closes them with a few clicks.

He kisses your shoulder, then your cheek, and mumbles something about not wanting to obstruct the view before he’s gently pushing your upper half back down and resuming his position behind you.

You wait in anticipation, taking in the sound of Eddie’s belt buckle, then the sound of his jackets hitting the ground, then the slide of his zipper and thudding of more denim hitting the ground.

Then, finally, you feel the bed dip behind you and you tense up, waiting while Eddie spreads your cheeks.

But you’re instantly relaxed when you feel Eddie’s tongue around your asshole, running around the puckered entrance in a circle.

The moan you let out is choked, shocked at first and then silky smooth once you get used to the feeling.

“Eddie, I–” All words are lost on your tongue at the foreign feeling.

“I know, sweetheart.” He pulls away for a second to tell you, then circling your hole twice more before pulling away completely. “Some other time.” He mumbles and you feel saddened for a second, but then Eddie is pushing his finger into your other hole, the one you’re used to, and you're moaning again, hips pushing back towards him.

Eddie hisses, the sound having a hint of shock and amusement to it. “Already so wet,” He muses. “Barely have to do any work.” Yet, he still pushes another finger into you, your cunt welcoming the added digit easily.

You don’t realize that you’re pushing yourself back, fucking yourself on Eddie’s fingers. But he does, stalling his hand and staring down at your ass moving forward and back with wide eyes. “So eager,” He comments, making you aware of your movements.

“Sorry.” You mumble, turning your head from having its cheeks to the sheets to instead force your entire face down into them, embarrassment taking over your entire body briefly as you scrunch your face up. It wasn’t your fault that you were left to your own devices for almost three weeks.

Although, it technically was your fault.

“‘S okay, baby. If it makes you feel any better, I’m eager to get into this tight little pussy.” You can hear the smile in his words and a giddy feeling fills up your body, starting from your pelvis and spreading to your chest where it's like little butterflies are flying.

You don’t have anytime to respond because then Eddie is asking you if he should use a condom or not. You hesitate, thinking over it and repositioning your cheek onto the covers.

Eddie gives you time to think, one of his large palms spreading over one of your ass cheeks, his fingers working to knead the flesh.

Eventually, you settle on a decision. “No condom,” You declare, eyes bright even though Eddie couldn’t see them.

“M’kay.” He says, a smile evident in his words, his palm disconnecting with your skin only to come back down onto it harshly, the rings on his fingers digging into your skin.

You flinch, mumbling a small “ow” into the sheets, to which Eddie gives a halfhearted ‘sorry’ in response to.

There’s some shuffling behind you. Eddie’s hands come to your hips and he manhandles you into the perfect position, pulling you back until your feet are hanging off the bed. He shifts his hips forward, his hands holding onto your hips tight, until his tip is right against your entrance.

You hold your breath, accidentally tensing before you force yourself to relax. Eddie rewards you by pushing in, slow and steady, allowing you room to adjust and get comfortable. He stops when he’s halfway through, and you’re the one to egg him on, pushing your hips backward until he gets the memo enough to bottom out.

Eddie wastes no time.

He pistons into you with a steady, moderate pace, not too fast nor slow. Yet, slower than you anticipated, but you’d welcome anything Eddie chooses to give you. And you tell him that with little, breathy gasps, turning your head to make sure none of them are muffled and are able to be heard by Eddie.

“There you go, pretty girl,” He says. You wonder if he’s speaking with the intended outcome of you hearing or not, because the words are so soft that the subtle squelch of your cunt sucking Eddie in, and letting him out, is louder.

Still, you let a little moan out in response, eyebrows pushing together as you attempt to hold yourself back from asking Eddie for more.

But eventually, you give in to your own needs.

“More, please, Eddie.” Is all you say, simple and pleading. You can practically hear the gears in Eddie’s head turning, attempting to decide if he should give in to you or not, the little devil and angel on his shoulders no doubt bickering amongst each other.

He ends up listening to the angel (which is you in pure white, but Eddie would never admit that), hips speeding up just enough for him to pick up the pace, but also with enough slow precision for him to bury himself deep in you, cock angled almost perfectly.

You help him out, babbling mumbles of ‘thank you’ while you tilt and turn your hips until Eddie’s cock hits that spot that you didn’t even know you were looking for.

The moan you let out is loud and chesty, coming from that same place where butterflies previously erupted.

“Right there?” Eddie asks, delivering repeated thrusts to that spot you’d angled him to. You nod, the movement uncomfortable due to the position of your head.

“There.” You confirm, back arching and pushing your cunt further back towards Eddie.

You groan, eyes rolling back into your head as you press your chest further down into the sheets. Eddie’s in you deep, hitting the spot you instructed him to, over and over and over again.

You know that you’re as physically close to Eddie as you could get, but there’s something in your brain that’s telling you that you could get closer. Like a pied piper, you follow it.

You move your arms from against your chest to above your head, fingers curling around a pillow you can find. With a few inches of freed space, you fully press your chest against Eddie’s bed, tits squished against the sheets that were definitely not cleaned since the last time you were here.

Your mouth’s open, drool pooling out of the side between little moans you let out.

You can’t feel it, but there’s arousal dripping down your inner thighs, creating a pornographic trail, all leading to those same dirtied sheets. The sheets you’re currently making a mess of.

Hopefully, if things went your way, they would have an even bigger mess to them by the time Eddie was finished.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans from behind you, his fingers digging into your hips harshly. You whine and squirm, trying to get away from the bruising grip Eddie has on you.

But all of your squirming is gone when Eddie releases a hand onto your ass again, that sting replacing the one you felt before.

“Take it.” He grunts out, through clenched teeth from the sounds of it.

“‘M sorry,” You instantly say, body tensing as you do what Eddie tells you.

But then, as a direct contrast, that same hand he used to slap your ass rubs the burning flesh, soothing the slap.

“That’s okay, baby. Just a dumb little slut ‘f me. Can’t even control your own body. You can’t help it, can you?”

You’re shaking your head, immediately brushing over the words ‘dumb’ and ‘slut’ and only focusing on how Eddie said ‘for me’. Because everything you did was for him.

You’d even laid down on a tattoo bed for over an hour, in pain, just to get a little tattoo that you were sure that Eddie would like even more than you did.

Which, you were obviously right about.

“Everything’s for you, Eddie.” You mumble, words slurred from how cock drunk you were.

Eddie coos from behind you, his thumb now running along your new tattoo.

“Even this little tattoo?” He asks, slowing his pace a little as he becomes distracted by your new ink.

“Especially the tattoo.”

And his pace is sped up again, faster and sloppier than before.

He’s losing accuracy, hitting around that spot more than he’s hitting it. But you couldn’t care less. Because Eddie’s cock is stretching and fucking you so well, and his little grunts and moans and babbles behind you are better than any shitty porno you’ve ever sat down and watch.

You’re dazed, head floaty in a way that’s similar to when you and Eddie pass a blunt back and forth in the back of his van. You don’t even notice that you’re close, not until your body starts to chase that feeling, hips grinding and circling in a coordinating way with Eddie’s thrusts that you didn’t even think you could achieve.

“You close, princess?” Eddie asks, voice a bit shaky due to his movements.

You hum affirmatively, pitch high in a way that would make you cringe if you currently cared.

One of Eddie’s hands pulls you flush against him, his patch of pubic hair brushing against your ass, and his other hand curls around your body to reach between your legs and bring two fingers to your clit.

All it takes is a few circles and then the arch in your back is inverting, thighs shaking as every muscle in your face scrunches up.

You cum hard, your fingers squeezing the edge of the pillow you’d grasped onto so hard that you can feel your fingernails against your palm.

Eddie helps you through your orgasm in a painful way, not daring to slow his fingers around your clit or his thrusts into your tight canal.

You’re practically sobbing at this point, sweet little cries of Eddie’s name falling from your lips.

When your thighs have stopped shaking and you’re giving into Eddie’s touch instead of moving away from it, Eddie’s thrusts become even sloppier.

“Can you cum again for me, sweetheart?” Your mind is telling you that you can’t, but your body is telling you the exact opposite, an aftershock of an orgasm already building in your lower abdomen.

You don’t respond. You don’t have to. Eddie can feel your walls fluttering around his cock like the wings of a butterfly.

His pointer and middle fingers speed up around your clit and you’re bracing yourself at this point, muscles tensing and relaxing repeatedly until you trigger your own orgasm.

It’s not as big as the one before, but you’re not focusing on that. Instead, you’re focusing on the way Eddie is losing himself behind you, both of his hands back at your hips, his own hips slapping into yours in fast thrusts until you feel his cock twitch and then the hot spurts of his cum.

You both moan in harmony, the mutual feeling of Eddie’s release inside of you taking over both of you.

His hips push against yours in short, staccato thrusts, making sure all of his cum is inside of you before he pulls out.

Silently, Eddie watches the way you clench around nothing, thereby forcing his cum out of your hole for it to drizzle down onto your cunt.

“Shit,” He curses, the same two fingers he had on your clit dragging along your cunt, gathering his cum along the digits.

Then, you feel nothing until Eddie’s still warm cum drips onto your lower back, right over your tattoo.

“Eddie,” You start, head turning and upper half lifting off of the bed.

“Shh.” Eddie says, splaying a hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushing you back against the bed with a thud. “Just a little healing ointment for you.”

It’s disgusting, so absolutely disgusting, but you can’t help but enjoy the way Eddie rubs his cum into your skin like moisturizer. You sit still while Eddie works to massage your skin, spreading his cum along your lower back and over your sore ass cheeks.

Then, once he’s finished, he kisses in the middle of your back and steps back completely. But not before placing his hands along your waist and pulling your upper half up from the bed.

You roll over onto your back, bringing your hands down to rest against your stomach again while you stare at the ceiling.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You say to Eddie, letting your eyes look at him from over your nose.

Eddie hums, starting to head out of his bedroom door. He stops when he’s almost across the threshold, turning to look over his shoulder to say, “You’re the one who lets me be”. Which, you can’t argue there.

You lay back on Eddie’s bed in silence with his cum sticking along your skin and drizzling out of your cunt.

You’re mostly out of it while Eddie cleans you up, a warm cloth gently running along your pussy, calloused hands maneuvering you enough to clean up your ass and back. He kisses along your skin as he works, making sure to kiss along your wrists when he unlocks the handcuffs, and along your face and neck as he slips one of his shirts over your body.

You come to enough to take a few hits from a blunt that Eddie lights, telling him that you’re fine and that he wasn’t too rough between puffs.

But when he excuses himself to go in the kitchen and make Kraft mac and cheese, you’re already knocked out, eyes closed and body lax on the disgusting, grimy bed sheets.

[januaryembrs]

BEST GIRL | Javier Peña x DEA!reader

Request: Congrats on 1k! <3 If I may request a Javier pena x reader, where he insists on taking her home to insure she's safe? Thank you, if this doesn't speak to you, feel free to skip!

description: Javi offers to walk you home when you get stood up on a date.

Word count: 1.4k

trigger warnings: hickeys, mention of a gun, walking home alone, jealousy?

main masterlist

Author’s note: As much as I love doing these singular prompts I keep getting attached to the characters I'm writing and wanting to write fully fledged fits which I don't have time to do. Love the x dea!Reader trope as we all know.

It had all started two weeks ago when you bustled into the office with a hickey on your neck. He’d had a subtle crush on you for the past few months, though he had tried to put it down to lust, but inside Peña knew he was screwed. You were a beautiful woman, smart and witty, amazing at catching narcos. You were possibly the best in the department, at least that’s what it said according to the leaderboard you kept of the number of arrests made this month. 

You were in the lead with fifteen, Javi running in close second with thirteen and Steve falling behind at nine. Though in his defence, Carrillo had been grilling him with paperwork to fill out so he didn’t have as much of a chance in the field as the two of you did. But it was clear that when you walked into the office, hair messed and a small purple splotch on your collarbone that your winning total was not the source of your delight. 

Sitting at your desk and shoving your handbag under your chair, you moved to make a start on your own paperwork. You felt two sets of eyes burning into your skull, your face flicking up to the offending agents with pride. 

“Oh, good morning gentlemen,” Came your smug voice, as if they had been an afterthought in your charm this morning. 

“Morning,” Steve murmured, sitting upright in his chair to get a look at your desk, “Where’s your coffee?”

You were a creature of habit, and after working closely for nearly a year with the two men in your unit, they grew to understand that every single morning you brought the same coffee flask, in the same handbag, which you brought to your lips with the same shade of lipstick almost immediately upon entering the building. But today was different, off. Your peachy pink lipstick was nowhere to be seen, a deeper red painted on in its place. And the beverage was missing too.

Javi’s eyes perked up at the distinction in your demeanour, your face going hot at the fact they had known you just that bit too well for you to get away with your little secret. 

“Just didn’t fancy it this morning,” You responded, trying to bury your nose into your work. Steve’s pen clattered to his desk in shock. That was certainty new. A job like this meant you had to stuff yourself full to the brim with caffeine if you were to make it through the day. 

“No, no,” Javi said suspiciously, “You look different. You only wear red lipstick when we’re going out,” Your eyes shot to his at the remark. An odd warmth spread in your chest when you realised he took notice of your little habits and you hid a scarlet smile at his words. 

“Yeah, and your coffee cup is gone because you couldn’t make it the way you like it this morning. Maybe you weren’t home?” Steve finished, raising his eyebrows in an accusation.

You puffed a breath, leaning back in your chair at their interrogation, “Save the questions for the criminals, boys,” They simply stared at you, waiting for an answer. You knew you weren’t wriggling out of this one. “Okay, fine. I wasn’t home last night. I’ve started seeing someone,” You confessed.

“Yeah, we gathered. That hickey on your neck says it all,” Javi teased, though inside he was bitter at the fact he had missed his chance with you. “So when can we meet him?”

Obviously not because Javi wanted to size the guy up or anything. Obviously. 

—

Not even three days later, Javi had practically forced you to arrange a double (triple) date with your recent interest. 

All you had told them was that his name was Mateo and that he was just so dreamy. He worked at the coffee shop you stopped off on the way home from work (again, getting your fill of caffeine for your guaranteed share of paperwork waiting for you at home). He had been the one to make the move on you, take you out for drinks, kiss you first on his old sofa in the dead of night. 

So as the five of you sat in the bar, two drinks down, it made no sense in anyone’s eyes why you were sitting alone. 

Steve of course had brought Connie, Javi had brought some girl he owed a second date, Eliza you think her name was. Then there was you. 

Mateo was supposed to be here an hour ago, you thought as you wrung your hands in nerves. The conversation flowed nicely as it always did between the three of you. Connie was by far the nicest woman you had ever known, and boy did she give Steve a run for his money with her drink tolerance. And Eliza was nice. She was quiet though, too interested in kissing Javi’s earlobe as he blushed and tried distracting her with something else whether it be shots or a less physical form of affection to keep her away.

She was nice, they all were. But god did you feel like an idiot. 

You chugged the remnants of your beer, still glancing at the door in case he made an appearance despite being diabolically late. When there was still no sight of him for a moment, you sighed and stood up from the table. “I’m gonna head home, it’s getting late-”

“You’re leaving?” Connie said, her blue eyes turning sad as she grabbed your wrist kindly, “He still might show up, please don’t go,”

“It’s getting late, I think I’m just going to go home. I have a huge report due for Carrillo by Monday anyway-” You brushed off politely, hating the look of pity everyone sent your way. You were obviously lying, anyone could see you were simply trying to save face over the fact your date had stood you up.

“Y/n, please just wait up, one of us will walk you home,” Steve tried to interject, but you were too fast, already slipping your coat on and stepping away from the table. 

“No, it’s fine really. I’m a big girl, I have my badge and gun on me anyway,” You promised, a meek smile clearly masking the embarrassment you felt. 

You turned on your heel to head out the door, giving the quartet a small nod goodnight as you left. God, this was pathetic. A woman of your grown age getting stood up on a date still, as if you were a stupid teen chasing an even more childish boy. You willed yourself not to cry out of sheer embarrassment, though your eyes stung with hatred and unshed tears anyway. 

That is until you heard your name being called behind you. 

“Wait!” You spun around to see Javi speeding to catch up with you, his date left at the table with a new cocktail in her hand and a slightly sour looking face. “Let me take you home,”

“Javier, you’re on a date. I can walk home alone, I’m fine. I don’t need everyone fawning over me-” You started but was cut off when he overtook you and held the door open for you to leave. “Javi!”

“Steve and Connie are taking Eliza home. Come on,” He held his hand out to you leaving no room for an argument. The warmth you felt in the office returned when you saw the way he looked at you, a mixture of pity, pleading and concern in those doe, brown eyes. All for you. “I can’t leave my best girl to walk home alone, can I?”

Because you knew he would do anything for you. The same way he would for Steve, or anyone else in the department. But something about the way he held his hand out, kind and inviting, as if he needed to take you home just as badly as you needed a shoulder to cry on, made your heart flutter like Mateo and his dreamy pick up lines never had. 

You took his hand gently, and he began walking the two of you through the cold Medellin night air, pulling you close with a sigh, “Jackass doesn’t know what he’s missing,”

[henry-and-the-seven-lords]

Crying Some Sense

Lucifer x MC

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Prompt: "No, don't cry, I hate it when you cry."

Description: Lucifer has been put under house arrest and has been keeping himself in his office. His brothers and MC are worried, so they devise a plan to pull him out.

Warning: angst, slightly fluffy ending, Changing and possible spoiling of events from Lesson 14, there is also some threatening language so be weary of that

Levi and Mammon walk behind MC. They trudged through the damp grass behind the House of Lamentations as the sun begins to set.

"So are you sure this is going to work?" MC's voice sounds skeptical. Mammon's grand plan to get Lucifer out of the house while under arrest was for MC to touch the Grimoire Luke had picked up a few weeks earlier. This would have been easy, but recently it was moved to the mausoleum, where a certain three headed dog that only listened to Lucifer watched over it.

Mammon flashes them a smile, nodding as he walked, "Of course, ya touch it and he'll come bursting out of his office and we can talk about everything."

"Yeah, burstings right." Levi mumbled to himself before his voice began to raise, "Bursting with anger-" Levi is silence by his brother's hand as MC turns around.

"What did Levi say?" Fear filled their eyes as they watched Levi struggle in Mammon's grip.

"He just said, he'll be bursting with excitement! That's all!" His words are followed by an unconvincing laugh. MC stares at the two unconvinced before turning around. When MC starts walking again, Mammon smacks Levi's shoulder and whisper yells, "Keep your mouth shut. We don't need them freaking out even more."

Levi's eyes widened at his older brother as he whispered back, "You know it's true! Are you just going to throw them in front of Lucifer without telling them how mad he will be!?"

Mammon shushes him before checking on MC. As the wind began to howl, he answered his brother, "I was gonna figure that out when we got there. Now come on!"

Mammon grabbed Levi's arm and pulled him forward as they began to catch a glimpse of the rest of the party.

Within seconds the three were standing before Beel, Asmo, and Satan. It had become dark in the time it took Levi, Mammon, and MC to reach the outside of the mausoleum gates.

The wind began to whip around them fiercely as Asmo spoke, "Are you ready to talk to Lucifer?" His voice sounded sweet against the harsh wind.

"I-I think so." MC voice stuttered as the began to shiver against the cold night air.

When Beel heard their voice stutter, he walked over to them giving MC his jacket, "You know what to talk about, right?"

MC nodded at the tall demon, "I need to ask him about Belphie."

Satan nodded with a smile, "Correct. We'll be close by making sure Cerebrus stays out of your hair."

MC looked around, as best as they could in the dark, at all the brothers. Across everyone's faces was the same expression of sadness. These demons standing before them knew something that they did not and that terrified MC to their core.

Before long, Mammon's booming voice interrupted their thoughts, "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

The Brothers led the way as MC walked behind them. The group was silent. A solemn, anxious air surrounded them as each foot crunched the grass below.

As they approached the entrance, Beel began to fall back and walk next to MC. He seemed anxious as well. This wasn't the first time MC had seem the gentle giant worry, but this was by far the worst it has ever been.

They glanced over and could see him playing with his fingers and sneaking glances at them as if he wanted to say something.

To ease his nerves, MC began the conversation, "Are you excited that you could see your twin again?"

A contented smiles passed Beel's face at MC's words, "Yeah... It really means a lot to me- to us. That you are doing this. That you are bringing our family back together."

MC smiled back. Beel's words warmed MC's heart and made the chills raking their body stop for just a moment, "It's the least I can do."

As MC finishes speaking, Mammon's voice yells over the wind to the group, "We're here."

Beel jogs up to the front of the group next to Mammon. The two begin to open the ornate stone doors leading into the mausoleum. Once the doors are pulled back, light floods their eyes blinding them for a second as they gaze into the cavernous tomb.

Mammon stands in the doorway puffing his chest and looking around to his brothers before he begins to speak once again.

"Asmo, Satan," He points to the pair, "You two go to the left and search for Cerebrus." He then gestures to the other two brothers and himself, "Levi, Beel, and I will go to the right." Mammon then turns his gaze from his brothers to MC, that sullen expression taking over his face once again. He walks up to them, gently placing his hand on their shoulders.

"You go dead center. Don't look back. Don't stop. No matter what you hear. You run to that book." As MC stared into his eyes they could see tears begin to prick the corners before he turned away saying, "Everyone got it?"

A resounding yes was heard and the group made their way in. They walked down a set of grand stone stairs.

MC stopped on the last stair as all the brothers looked at them. Asmo walked up to them grabbing their hands and speaking to them, "You wait here until you can't see us anymore. Then you start running." He looked into their eyes as he bent down and laid a gentle kiss on their hands.

All the Brothers looked at MC with sad eyes. Slowly they went up to them one at a time giving hugs and words of encouragement.

After all of their hugs were given, they split up and began to walk in different directions. MC stood and watched the brothers slowly disappear from their view until they were alone.

They stepped down gently taking a deep breath, before they began to sprint straight ahead.

As they ran, they could hear the pitter patter of soft feet to their left. The sound was then followed by a shout, "Over here, Cerebrus!" The voice sounded like Satan in the distance.

MC kept running as resounding shouts began to surround them on both sides. Mammon, Levi, Beel, Asmo, and Satan were all heard. Their voices seemed to echo off the walls and it became indistinguishable which side they were coming from.

After 5 minutes their legs began to burn as a statue came into view. They slowed before taking a breath and staring at the beautiful figure.

The towering statue was a young woman. Her face was solemn as her wings spread out from her back as if they were sheltering her. Her head was bent down and he hands were extended, almost as if she was giving an offering. In her hands, sat a black book.

"This must be the Grimoire everyone talked about." Their voice echoed in the mass of sound.

MC stepped closer inspecting the book. The black cover was made out of leather that had begun to crack. While the pages were thick and beginning to yellow creating a stark contrast of color.

They reached out their hands grabbing the book before looking around for the demon they came here to see.

The screaming that once filled the giant space stopped along with the sound of paws smacking against the floor. Everything was silent.

While waiting for something or someone to appear, MC became curious as to the books contents and began to flip through the pages.

As the pages fell open with a crinkle, the ground began to shake beneath them tearing their attention away from the Grimoire.

They looked up, before them stood Lucifer in his demon form. The ground below him was cracked and dust settled around him.

His gaze and aura is one of anger and determination as he begins to walk closer to MC.

"I see that you can't listen." His voice is steady and stern as he approaches.

MC's voice feels caught in their throat as they begin to step back to add some distance. As they did this, they shut the book and clutched it to their chest.

"I tell you to never touch this book, and yet here you are disobeying me once again." His eyes begin to flare red as MC hits the statue's hands, crawling on them to get away.

"Do you even know who I am? Do you know what you are defacing?" His expression looks crazed as his teeth become bared as he speaks.

MC finally finds their voice as they stare into his eyes, "I did this to help you. I wanted to talk about-"

"Help me!? You think this is helping me. Putting my entire family in danger just to get my attention." His voices raises to an ear piercing level as he continues, "Well now you have it!"

Silence once again overtakes the mausoleum as they stare into each other's eyes, "Oh? Now the mighty human is scared of me? It's too late for that."

Lucifer's bears his fangs and begins to reach for MC's body as they recoil deeper into the hands of the statue. They covered their face with their arms and squeeze their eyes shut bracing for impact.

Tears begin to prick the corners of their eyes and a sob shakes their body. They expect to feel an immeasurable amount of pain at the hands of one of their caretakers, but it never comes.

Slowly, MC peaks out from their curled up position to get a glimpse at the demon before them. His fangs are retracted and his demon form is gone as he stares wide eyed at the human.

They stare at him in the eyes as tears roll down their cheeks in droves.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Please no, don't cry, I hate it when you cry." They watched as one of the most powerful demons in all of the Devildom, the very demon that was about to rip them to shreds mere seconds ago, gently pulls them into his chest. He wraps his arms around their midsection like he had done before. He cradled their body delicately in his arms as if he was holding a glass sculpture.

MC listens to his heart beat thump erratically against one ear as he whispers in the other, "I never should have said that. I shouldn't have lashed out at you." He pauses, and MC can hear his heart's pace slow.

"I am just, so worried about Belphie. There is so much I still need to do to fix that problem. I thought, you were just going to make things worse."

He pulls them closer to his chest and MC feels hot tears fall onto their head, "How stupid am I, to let my rage overtake me and almost risk losing you as well."

MC's tears have slowed, but at his words, another river of them begins to trickle out. The two continue to cry in each other's arms for hours as they try to not only fix the problem, but work out their emotions.

[dudeshusband]

Title: What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor?

Ship: Mike x Anthony Hope

Words: 760

Description: Anthony comes home late from an outing with his sailor friends.

Warnings: alcohol mention

Anthony was late. 

The sky had long since darkened and the city of London had grown quiet. Mike had busied themselves with chores, then with books. They sighed as they placed the last book back onto the shelf. They pulled up the sleeve of their nightgown and glanced at their watch. 

He was more than an hour late. What if he had gotten hurt? Or gotten arrested? Or something worse that even Mike’s anxious mind could not create? 

Mike shook their head. He had gone out with a few of his sailor friends, it was doubtful they left him somewhere. They all probably had one drink too many and lost track of time. Still, it was hard not to worry as they blew out the candle in the living room.

They had only just gotten into bed and closed their eyes when they heard someone trying to turn the doorknob, and failing. 

If it was Anthony, Mike thought, he had a key. 

They rolled over in bed and tried to get some sleep.

The doorknob continued to clack around. 

Maybe it isn’t Anthony, Mike’s brain suggested. Their eyes widened and they shot up out of bed. 

Quickly, and as quietly as they could manage, they went into the kitchen. They grabbed a knife and approached the door. 

The doorknob stopped moving. 

They heard an odd knock, almost half hearted. 

“Please let me in,” the person behind the door pleaded. 

Mike sighed, and placed the knife on the coffee table. This most certainly was Anthony. 

They unlocked the door and their husband stumbled in. 

Just as Mike figured, he had knocked back one drink too many, or likely by the state of him, a few drinks too many.

“Did you have fun?” Mike asked him. 

He nearly tripped over the coffee table but Mike managed to catch him in time. 

“By the looks of it, you had a little too much fun.” 

Mike briefly thought of what their pro-temperance father would think of their husband right now. He always preached about drunks and their abusive ways. He thought every drunken man was that way. 

Anthony was certainly not.

He smiled at them, and said, “Dance with me!” 

Mike shook their head. “You can barely stand, silly.” 

Regardless of what Mike said, Anthony took their hands and began to spin them around. He kept nearly tripping over his own feet and Mike was a bit scared they would go down with him. 

When he did lose his footing, he crashed into them and toppled them both over. It was a hard landing but Mike couldn’t seem to be upset at their husband, who was giggling above them. 

“You know,” he said. “You are very beautiful.” 

He said it so earnestly, and it made Mike blush. 

“Not as beautiful as my spouse though,” he continued. “They’re perfect. I don’t think anyone more beautiful exists. I could stare at them all day. I love them with all my heart.” 

Mike laughed, which made Anthony frown. 

“What?” he said, sounding a bit offended. “They are perfect. You should see them.” 

“I have seen them,” Mike said. “They are a bit ugly.” 

“Don’t talk about them like that!” Anthony said, almost angrily. 

Mike laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe. 

“Settle down,” they told him, grabbing his face. “I am your spouse, you lunkhead.” 

“Well, don’t talk about yourself like that, then.” 

Mike nudged their husband off of them and onto the floor. They stood, then helped him up. 

“To bed with you,” Mike said. “We’ll discuss how worried you made me in the morning.” 

Mike led their husband to their bed by the hand like a tired toddler. He went easily and had no protests when they propped him up on his side. It was something they’d learned from friends who had married before they had. 

“I must admit you are adorable, my Anthony, but if you ever come home in this state again, I am leaving you outside.” 

Anthony pouted. “It’s cold out there.” 

Mike chuckled. “You know all my threats are empty. I couldn’t possibly survive a night without you.” 

Mike laid out a pillow and a blanket for themselves on the floor. Then, they returned to the bed to give Anthony a goodnight kiss. 

“If these sheets aren’t clean when you wake up, you are cleaning them your…self.” 

Mike sighed at their husband, who had drifted off to sleep, then whispered into his hair, “I love you.” 

They returned to their makeshift bed, and after a lot of tossing and turning, fell asleep. 

@cozyships @samsbeckett @pucksfictionallovelife @bee-ships @glitched-ships @jellyfish-ships @thatslikesometaldude @greghouse @deanportmans @dissonantyote

[ramp-it-up]

Baby

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Minors DNI, Wordsmith Daveed, descriptions of masturbation, references to breath play, manual sex, explicit laguage, oral sex (male receiving), love fluff. All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from the 100 smut prompts ask list. What have I done? Smut level building with each story and y’all don’t even know.

BTW: This is in the Acceptance/Valentine’s Daveed AU. Short Stack x D.

You were so nervous that you surprised yourself.

It had only been 10 days since you’d seen him after three weeks of getting reacquainted and all the mind blowing sex on the regular.

You’d told yourself, and him, that you wanted to take it slow this time, but you weren’t prepared for him leaving.

You tried to go to sleep right after you got home from the second show on Sunday night because you wanted to get up early to pick up Daveed from the red eye Monday morning.

Your mind would not quit spinning, though, and you’d slept very lightly.

You hopped out of bed at 5 am, hyped to see your Daveed again. You decided to park and wait inside the baggage claim area.

You felt like a teenager when you saw D’s text come through that he’d landed. You texted back a cool, “K,” then freaked the fuck out. 

Who were you? Certainly not the one who’d left Daveed and pretended he didn’t exist for a year. 

Well, you’d tried it.

You watched as the crowds from the planes came down to baggage claim. You saw Daveed’s Oakland hat and curls above most of the rest of the passengers.

The rest of the crowd faded from focus as your eyes were riveted to Daveed. He had the biggest smile on his face. He looked so unreal. And so fucking good.

You felt the heat rise to your face. You were sprung, dickmatized, ruined.  You felt hot, cold, emotional and about to cry.

Shit.

You were in love.

---

Daveed had spotted you before you spotted him. 

He had that eagle eye for you. You were sitting down scrolling on your phone, your legs crossed. 

Damn, those legs tho. Even though you were short, those legs went on forever to a succulent promised land that he hoped to visit real soon.  

He licked his lips and recalled what you tasted like. 10 days was too long.

You stood up and searched the crowd. Your eyes locked and he could see that you were flustered. 

You hadn’t said you loved him back since you got back together, but he was almost certain. You wanted the same thing he did. He smiled as he came after you.

----

You felt like you couldn't move as you stared at Daveed. He finally reached you and dropped his bags on the floor. 

He didn't say a word, but bent down, wrapped his arms around your waist, picked you up, and kissed you, hard. 

You took off his hat, fisted his hair and groaned through the kiss. You had to get out of there.

"I missed the hell outta you," he told you when he finally put you down. 

He smiled down at your upturned face, took his hat out of your hand and smashed down your nice fluffy curls with it. 

You pouted, only pretending to be mad.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you. I missed you too, Diggs." You were so happy he was back.

"Finally! You admit you missed me. Maybe you really do like me and are not just using me for my body!" He laughed at you. "Not that I care at this moment."

"Yeah, I like you. And I will take you up on that usage agreement." 

You leaned up to kiss him again before leading him out to the parking lot.

“Your place?”

It wasn’t even really a question since he let go the place he had been renting. It didn’t make sense for him to stay somewhere else.

You couldn’t even front as you nodded eagerly. He rewarded you with another smile, then looked at you and bit his lip as you stood outside your car.

You cocked your head at him, mesmerized. Your body was feening for his. 

"You wanna drive?" Your voice was husky and full of desire.

Daveed put his lips close to your ear. You shivered. 

"Hell yeah, but I want you to get us there. I wanna look at you."

 He opened the driver's side door for you.

You stared for a minute and climbed in. Daveed looked at you in the driver's seat, leaned over and kissed your lips softly and let his hand travel down your body from your neck to your thighs. 

Damn, he thought as he shook his head and went around to the passenger seat. I'm this close to the promised land! He was excited but cool.

You tried to collect your thoughts but your brain was short circuiting with him so close and his spicy coconut scent filling your nostrils.

Daveed sat in the passenger seat, looked at you and put his infamous left hand on you. He was tracing patterns on your leg.

The sensation traveled to your core, the fabric of your leggings somehow a sensual conductor. 

“Tell me this. Did you touch yourself when I was gone?”

“W-what do you mean?” 

Daveed caught the stutter, and smiled, but he kept his eyes down as his hand moved up higher, stopping the tracing and now clasping the expanse of your thigh and squeezing just a bit, long fingers embedded between your lush legs.

“You know what I mean. I mean did you finger your pussy, circle your clit after licking your fingers and then pulling them out to taste them again?” 

His eyes held yours now. You couldn’t breathe.

“I mean, did you shove your fingers inside you as deep as you could and then did you curl them until you hit that special spot while still pressing your button?”

You gasped for breath and Daveed’s eyes went to your lips and tongue. He leaned forward to kiss you, but stopped himself with a small moan.

“Did you play in your sopping wet slit and let your fingers slip down to feel your other hole, accidentally of course, until you were sliding over the sheets in your own wetness?”

He was leaning toward you now, looking into your eyes as if he really wanted to know.

“Because that’s all I’ve wanted to do for 10 gotdamn days.”

And then he took your mouth, supple lips covering yours and tongue making you remember it’s past transgressions.

"You're trying to get me to fuck in this airport parking lot aren't you?"  

You could only say it after you caught your breath. You were actually trembling in this man's arms. Damn.

"Now why would you want to do that?" 

Daveed asked his question as he moved his hand up your face into your hair and gave a gentle but firm tug, making you gasp again and getting him harder than he already was. 

You moaned. "You know why...."

He loved to hear you struggle and made a mental note to show you more about breath play at your place.  

He forced your head back and marked your neck, turning places your skin a deep purple. So beautiful. Damn, he wanted to do demented things to you right now. 

“Fuck, Daveed. No marks!” 

He knew why you were protesting and it irritated him. He pulled your hair again. 

“That’s what the fuck makeup artists are for.”

He practically growled. That and his full beard made you ready to go right now.

His hand moved down your neck to your collarbone tracing it over to your chest and there it rested for a minute, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric of your hoodie. 

Which was really his hoodie.

Daveed moved his hand underneath, squeezing your breast gently in his hand.

 "No, I don’t know why..." He wanted to hear you.

"Because you are making me so fucking wet, that's why." 

Your needy whine threatened to take him out right then.  

"Word? That's what's up. Let me see.”  

Daveed raised his eyebrow at you.

You were past the point of denying him anything at this moment.

"Y-yes. Please." 

That was the green light.

He trailed his hand down your stomach to the waistband of your leggings. He slipped his hand in, his long fingers caressing your pearl. He could feel it swell right away. 

"Jesus!" 

He couldn't stand it. 

"You are wet.”

He plunged two fingers in your goodness and could feel your body grip them. 

"Damn, how are you so tight.!?!" 

He started pumping in and out of you, doing what he’d described earlier. He needed to be inside you, and soon.

"The dancing....always... keeps ....the core ....tight.... Oh...My....Damn..." 

Your eyes were closed as you felt your body quicken. Daveed leaned over, pulled the hoodie up and gently bit your nipple, playing with it with his tongue while it was still trapped between his teeth.

He could feel you start to pound around his fingers. 

As you started to moan, Daveed covered your mouth with his. You came on the palm of his hand. D was as hard as a rock and leaking in his jeans.

He watched as you came, wanting to bust himself. He had to do something.

"Are you sure you can drive?" He asked with an evil grin. "I think you should go ahead and get into the passenger seat so I can."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, confused.

"Just climb over me and I’ll shift into the driver's seat."

Your heart skipped a beat as you shifted up and over the car’s gear shift and onto Daveed’s own.

You came down relatively hard on his lap and he groaned. 

"Are you gonna drive?" You leaned forward and whispered in his ear. 

Daveed was gripping your ass while you rode him. He couldn’t speak.

"Let me get you off.... so you can move." 

You got on your knees on the floorboard of the car in front of him. You watched him watch you as you unzipped his pants and uncover the throbbing mass.

You smiled and kissed it lightly. 

"I've missed you." 

You looked up at him. “What do you want me to do?"

Daveed just stared at you, put his fingers in his mouth, and pulled them out slowly. He closed his eyes as he tasted you. You grinned and went to work. 

You licked his tip as you gently squeezed his balls. Then, you lowered your wet mouth around him, causing him to piston his hips up toward your face. 

You took his cock down your throat and moaned. 

“Damn, I’ve missed the sight of you letting me fuck your face. Such a good, good, good, good girl.”

He trusted into your mouth with every good and the praise made you want to live up to your title. You took what he gave you. And gladly.

After he came, and you swallowed, he looked around. 

"Let's get out of here before we get arrested."

You laughed and kissed him as you shifted around and he got in the driver's seat and fixed his clothing. 

You adjusted yourself as well. Satisfied for the moment, but anticipating more to come. 

He smirked at you as he put the car into gear. You dozed slightly as he drove back to the city, finally relaxed enough to rest.

As he pulled into your space in the parking garage, he gently shook you awake.

“As much as I want to I can’t carry you and my bags upstairs.”

You smiled and stretched, Daveed watching appreciatively.

“My big strong Baby. You can do anything.”

You took his face in your hands and kissed his forehead, nose and lips.

“Baby?”  Daveed’s eyes glowed as he grinned at you. “I’m ‘Baby’ now?” 

Your stomach and back were fluttering like crazy. But you sucked it up and smiled back at him. It was time out for games.

“Yeah, as in Baby, bring me something to eat? Baby, are you really playing that game right now? Baby, I need that dick.” 

You looked down and back up at him. “And as in, Baby, I missed you and I love you. So much.”

Daveed’s smile got bigger, impossibly so, and he kissed you back lightly.

“You know I love you too. Short Stack.”  He got serious for a minute. “I promise you I wont hurt you…”

You silenced him with a kiss. “Let’s just keep moving.  No take backs, no regrets.” Another kiss. “Now let’s get upstairs.”

Daveed agreed, and you got out and Daveed gathered his bags.  On the elevator ride up, Daveed held you in front of him, his arm wrapped around your ribcage as you leaned back against him.

You could feel his erection get bigger the higher you climbed.  Him nuzzling your neck almost made you forget that he probably was exhausted and hungry.

“Hmmmm. Baby? You hungry?” 

You smiled down at the elevator floor, anticipating his answer. He didn't reply, just walking out of elevator as the doors opened on your floor.

When you got inside and his bags discarded, he finally answered you. Walking toward the bedroom.

“I’m starving Short Stack. I need to eat. Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you."

You practically skipped into the bedroom behind him.

---- 

Tagging: @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @curtainremote @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @peaches-and-mangoes @delaber @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @einfachniemand

[whump-a-la-mode]

Static and Sneezes

This is somewhat inspired by the fact that I spent last weekend laying around with an awful cold. Now that I’m well enough again to write, I figured I’d turn it into some good sickfic whump.

Hope you enjoy!

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, sickness, respiratory disease, vomit (minor), mentions of past injury

Hero couldn’t help but grit their teeth against the noise. It was less like an audible thing; it was audible in the same way that electricity was. It wasn’t a noise, per se, but the movement of particles through the air assaulted the ears in its own way.

The sensation penetrated even all the way across the street, in their van. The dashboard lights were all that punctured the overwhelming darkness of the city streets, aside from the scattered streetlights, which the vehicle deliberately avoided as it screeched to a halt.

With a click and the groaning of a tired engine, Hero took the key from the ignition. Before the chassis had even settled against the axles, the driver’s side door was thrown open, then closed just as quickly, as a shadowed figure emerged from it and tore across the street.

The noise got horribly loud, the closer they got the worse it became. In tandem, the closer they got, the larger the building before them seemed to become. It spiraled into the air, a corrugation of steel and blue glass and well-hidden rivets.

A nearby streetlight sparkled against the heap of broken glass that had once been the front door. Villain was bold, they noted with a grunt.

As if synced to their thoughts (which it very well could have been, given the technology Agency flaunted about), a voice flashed in their earpiece:

“It’s looking like Villain is moving up to the third floor, now.” Handler spoke.

“What are they doing?” They tried to whisper, but regardless, their voice still seemed to echo in the silent street.

“No idea. The cameras are no good, the static knocks them out.”

“Then... how do you know where they are?”

Hero could almost hear the eye roll on the other end of the line.

“Wherever the cameras aren’t working, that’s where they are.“ The tone seemed to turn to one of concern. “When you go up there, you’re going to be cut off. Anywhere near Villain is a communication dead zone. Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can still send in a team...”

“No. Don’t send anyone.” Hero shook their head. “If we make too much noise, we’ll scare them off. We’re too close. I’m not losing this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I...” Hero bit their lip.

They didn’t even know Villain, not even their name. Not their real one, anyways. Nothing other than the codename Agency had filed them under. They weren’t like other villains. Sure, they were cocky and annoying and overall a danger to society, but they were different. Clever. They had no care for notoriety. They didn’t want the world to fear them or know their name.

More than that, they were careful. They never fought back. They were never there to fight back. By the time Agency made it to the scene, they would leave little more than a residual hum and a shattered window. Few had ever seen them. Fewer had heard their voice.

The thought made Hero bite their tongue. They weren’t going to let them keep getting away with this. They had hurt too many agents. Stolen so much. Caused so much damage. And no one even knew their name.

It ended tonight. The building, a Research and Development institute for a technology company, was built like a maze, and it was one that Villain wouldn’t be get out of this time. Not again.

Tonight was Hero’s big break. Tonight, they would win back their respect. Their reputation. Their confidence. Everything their injury had taken from them.

Finally, finally, they were going to be a hero again.

Without another moment of hesitation, they hurried towards the building. Their boots made the broken glass a trivial issue, and soon, they were in the building. 

From the lobby, hallways swirled and spiraled about like the tentacles of a great beast. But that was not their concern. For a moment, they considered using the elevator, before remembering that elevators, too, would be knocked out by Villain’s powers.

They curled their fists in annoyance, shrugged off their overcoat, and unfolded their wings.

The feathered limbs were beautiful things. Everyone seemed obsessed with saying so, from teammates to trainees to doctors. They had the coloring of a hawk (’a Black Chested Buzzard Eagle’ an overly chipper biology student had stated once), but stretched to a length of around twelve feet.

Oftentimes, Hero found themself wishing that their feathers were of a darker hue. They’d even considered dying them to be so. That way, the metal braces strapped to them wouldn’t be quite so obvious.

Still, in the dark of the building, no one would know. They moved to the stairwell, made a few light flaps, and launched upwards.

Generally, their wings were wonderfully silent things, hardly making the slightest sound as they beat against the air. However, with the metal pieces attached, they made a horrible grinding sound of metal on metal on feather.

It only took a few powerful flaps to carry them to the third floor, and they landed as quietly as they could on the steps. For a moment, they stood there, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going in.” They whispered into their earpiece. On the other end, they heard nothing more than a resigned hum.

Hero threw open the door.

The static burst unto them as if it were a physical thing, filling their ears and threatening to creep into the edges of their vision. They blinked a few times, gritting their teeth against the horrible noise. The stupid hum had knocked out the lights, but enough moonlight crept through the windows so that some things could be made out.

They spotted them.

Hero wasn’t sure what they’d expected. The description in the files was basic. Young, short, wears street clothes. And, all those descriptors were certainly correct.

But none of them described the sheer shock present on the thief’s face. For a moment, the shock turned to fear, then fear to fury. They stepped back, as if steadying themself, as a swirling form of static grew around one hand. It appeared almost like the static on a television screen when turned to the wrong channel, but in physical form and morphed into a three dimensional object.

Hero had no idea what would happen if they got hit with that thing, but they weren’t exactly keen to find out.

“Villain.” They spoke the criminal’s codename in the deepest, most official voice they could manage. “You are under arrest. Place your hands behind your head and-”

It was difficult to describe how static, in physical form, moved through the air. It was almost like a swarm of insects, all joined in purpose and being. Of course, Hero’s instincts didn’t care about that. Before they had even realized what was coming towards them, they had dove out of the way, crashing into the tile floor.

“Why won’t you jerks just leave me alone!”

The reaction was fierce, seemingly built up after a considerable amount of rage had simmered for a considerable amount of time. Or maybe it would fear? It looked...it felt a little too much like fear.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Hero growled, scrambling to their feet. “But if you attack me, I’ll have to resort to it.”

“Just stop! Leave me-”

Villain seemed to cut themself off. Hero was unsure, for a moment, as to why, until they heard the fit of coughing break through the sea of static. They stumbled, as if the coughing had thrown off their balance completely. When the hacking was at last finished, they gasped for breath, in a way that sounded almost like they were gurgling.

“Leave me alone.” They finished, straightening themself.

In the time that the coughing fit had allotted them, Hero had taken a flashlight from their belt-- specifically an older model, one that had no need of radio or internet or anything of the like. They held it up, shining it on Villain’s face. They recoiled at the light.

“What are you doing here?” Hero intended for their voice to sound threatening, or at least official, but it came out with far more concern than malice.

The flashlight’s beam illuminated Villain’s face, even as they attempted to block it with a hand. Their eye sockets had a hollow, sunken quality to them, only accentuated by the redness of the eyes themselves. The redness blossomed out to the rest of their face, all the way up to their ears. From their forehead, sweat bloomed and fell down their jaw in droves.

It was a horrible picture of disease.

“I could ask you the same question.” The coughing seemed to have done a number on their voice, as the words came out croaky and strained. They picked up something from the floor that they had seemingly dropped. “Now, if you would leave me the hell alone, I think it’d be great for the both of us.”

“No.” Hero shook their head, taking a step closer. Another ball of static formed on Villain’s hand, but it did not deter them. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re going to the hospital, if I have to drag you there with my own two hands.”

Villain looked up at that, clutching their item close to their chest. They weren’t frightened, at least not in the immediate moment. Instead, they seemed incredibly confused.

“You’re sick. Have you seriously not noticed?”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but I don’t have time for it. Move away from the door, and I’ll be on my way, kapish?”

Hero glanced to the door behind them. If Villain got to it, there was likely no stopping them from leaving the building entirely, and disappearing back to wherever they had come from.

“Not a chance.”

Villain’s lips curled in a way indicating that they were about to retort with another cocky remark, when another bout of coughing attacked them. This one brought them to their knees, forcing them to brace themself against the floor. Onto the tiles below, they spat up a horrid looking green liquid.

That was it. Hero clenched a fist, stalking over to the other side of the room and kneeling down beside the sickly villain (taking care not to touch whatever they had just coughed up.) As they recovered, they tried to fight, but were no match.

The click of cuffs sounded as Hero secured Villain’s wrists behind their back. With the leverage the cuffs gave them, Hero brought them to their feet-- though they did so gently.

With one hand, they kept hold of the cuffs, while with the other, they placed a palm upon Villain’s forehead. Even before they touched skin, they could feel the heat radiating off of them.

“You’re under arrest. But first, you’re going to the doctor.”

[nothing-but-dreamy]

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!

Pairing: DEV. CONNOR X FEM!ANDROID!READER (yn - your name)

Words: 2.686

Warning: steamy situation; small cursing

A thief had been running through Detroit, broke into random villas and robbed jewellery, money and other small valuable things. Hank and Connor were assigned to this case because the first crime scene showed signs of an android being the suspect. There were no fingerprints, the alarm systems were methodically hacked and witnesses were sure to have seen an unknown android around their neighbourhoods right before the break-in.

The two investigators got a description of the thief which fitted to a former GL200, a female security android named YN. You differed from the usual form of this type of android because you got described with a bright, red hair color and your uniform got changed to elegantly clothes at day and tight fitting catsuits by night. Usually, Connor had expected that such a striking android would attract more attention but for him and Hank, it was very difficult to catch you. Mostly, because you were … very good.

Now, two weeks after your first raid, Connor felt some kind of satisfaction as he locked his handcuffs around your wrists. Two long weeks, Connor and Hank were chasing you and it always looked as if you were two steps ahead of the cops. No matter what the two men did, you were able to escape every single time. Not one single trap they had laid out for you was enough to arrest you.

During this case, Connor had seen you several times fleeing from the crime scenes with a mocking grin on your lips to taunt him. He had run after you each time he saw you but he was never able to get even close to you. Once you were even jumping from a roof to escape him. As Connor thought you might be dead because of the height of the building, he saw you climbing through a window of a building on the other side, smooth like a cat. You turned over to him to wave with a triumphantly smirk on your lips before you bowed slightly to disappear then into the darkness of the abandoned building.

You were able to make him doubt himself and his skills as a cop. How was it possible for you to slip through his hands every single time? But now, this had changed. After another hunt, Connor was finally able to catch you. And to hear the clicking sound of the metal around your small arms was like music in his ears. While Hank gave you the typical police speech, your attention was just with Connor who brought you over to a car of a waiting police officer.

“Congratulations, you have finally caught me, Connor. I’m proud of you.”, you said teasingly. Connor was surprised that you knew his name but he tried to stay unaffected to your comment. He opened the back door of the car and helped you go in. Connor gave the officer instructions but your eyes were still glued just at him. Connor was confused by the smirk on your lips. After all, you got caught by the police. There was no room to … smirk.

***

Back in the police station, you got brought into a free cell by Hank. He ignored no matter how often you asked for Connor. For several hours, you stayed alone in the cell waiting for what might happen. After a while, one by one, the lights in the office turned off and you knew you were alone for the night. So, you did what you always did when you were alone: you started to sing. It was a soft song with a melodically tune. You had found it in the database and after you had heard it, you already loved it.

“Stop singing.”, Connor called out through the empty and half dark office. Your voice was nice and melodically. The song you sang was beautiful and it interfered with his concentration.

“Oh, you’re still here, Connor? I thought I would be all alone.”, you called back. Connor heard the smile and true surprise vibrating in your voice. As Connor stayed silent, you tried to get his attention again.

“Then, please, come to me.”, you begged.

“Why? You want to confess, finally?”, Connor asked with a grin that was even audible in his voice.

“No, but I’m feeling lonely. And I don’t like to be alone.”, you admitted with an acted sadness. Connor closed his eyes and counted to five how Hank had teached him to do whenever he felt overwhelmed by some kind of situation. This tactic should clear his mind to stay calm … most of the time, Gavin was the trigger. This time, he had to stay cautious because you were very smart. As he reached ‘five’, Connor stood up from his desk and walked over to the cell where you were lying on the bed playing with one of your shiny strands of hair. Your matte black catsuit let not much room for any fantasies and you knew how to present yourself.

“Spend some time with me, please.”, you begged pouting as you saw Connor slowly approaching. Connor stepped to the glass and looked down at you.

“You’re a criminal.”

“And? Even criminals can feel alone.”, you replied with a cute tilt of your head to one side as you sat up.

“So, you’re not denying what you did then? You agree that you’re a thief?”

“You’ve caught me in a villa which wasn’t mine. So, I barely can deny I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”, you answered grinning.

“And the other robberies?”, Connor asked, trying to trick you to make a confession. Slowly, you stood up to step closer to the glass which separated you two from each other. You shook your hair so it was falling dramatically over your back. It was an impressive sight, like liquid fire, Connor had to admit.

“Come in this cell and spend some time with me, please. Maybe, I will tell you what you want to know.”, you said seductively before you gnawed on your lower lip, your eyes still connected with his gold-flecked brown ones as you looked through your lashes at him. Connor’s eyes darted quickly down to your full lips and back to your eyes. It was a fast move but you had noticed it.

Connor knew exactly what you tried. You used your appearance to flirt with him to get what you wanted. Maybe he could use this knowledge to get what he wanted from you instead: the confession about the thefts from the last two weeks to close this case. Prepared with the purpose not to fall for your tricks, Connor opened the cell door with his artificial hand and stepped into the room as the door slid open. To show your good intentions, you stayed where you were: leaning against the glass wall innocently. Connor stayed on the opposite wall, leant against it with his back and crossed his arms over his chest to observe you.

“So, I am here. You wanted to talk, so talk.”, Connor said calmly.

“No, I didn’t want to talk. I said I didn’t want to be alone.”, you corrected him with a smirk.

“You know, YN, why aren’t you just telling me the truth, huh? I promise you will feel better after it.”, Connor said serious. He was confused as he saw your grin getting bigger.

“Oh, Connor, is it possible that you’re concerned about my well-being?”, you asked while pushing yourself from the glass.

“No, I’m just concerned about the case.”, Connor answered serious. Very slowly, you walked over to him.

“You know, you’re very sexy when you’re so serious.”, you said with a low and lascivious voice.

“Stop flirting, YN. Now, it’s not the right time.”, Connor said, watching you coming closer to him. Your red hair was falling in thick waves over your shoulders and bounced slightly with every step.

“The time is always right when you meet someone you like. Especially you should know that, Connor.”

“What are you talking about?”, Connor asked and tried to keep the confusion out of his voice. It wasn’t working. You heard it nevertheless. Slowly, you approached him step by step until you stood close in front of him. Just his crossed arms kept you from stepping even closer.

“Come on, don’t act like that. I know you like me. I saw it whenever you were chasing me.”, you said low with a lust filled voice. Slowly, you entangled Connor’s arms, so you were able to let your hands dance slowly over the fabric of his jacket while you still looked into his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean, YN.”, Connor said and tried to sound serious but even he heard that his voice betrayed him. You chuckled about it and the grin stayed on your lips as you moved your hands teasingly slowly underneath the jacket. Your fingertips roamed over his chest, down his stomach and to the belt. Connor watched your moves closely and he knew he had to stop you but he couldn’t. Your glance was hypnotizing while the touch of your small hands had a perfect pressure on his body. Everything had an unknown effect on him and … unfortunately, he had to admit that he liked it.

“You sure?”, you asked teasingly, your fingers, already back on their way up along his body. You reached the knot of his tie to open it, “I mean, I saw you, Connor. Everytime, I saw how you looked at me. Even now, in this cell, you think about how my lips might be tasting.”, you whispered seductively. With each word, you had slowly opened the buttons of his suit shirt and now, you laid your hands on his bare chest. Everything inside of him screamed that he should run but he couldn’t.

You were right and he hated it. He had thought about you in a not case relevant way. That he wasn’t saying anything or moving was for you the sign that you were right and so, you continued. With appreciative moves, you stroked over his chest, over his neck and to his face to cup it while you got on your tiptoes to reach his lips where you stopped just inches away.

“You want to kiss me? Then do it-”, you breathed before you got stopped with Connor’s lips crashing on yours for a hungry kiss. You were surprised about his force and hunger, so you stumbled back but Connor snaked his arms around your middle to pull you close against his body while you clawed your hands into his open suit shirt. You recovered quickly and so, Connor let go of you so he could bury his hands into your long, soft hair. The kiss became more passionate with hands everywhere and bringing each other as close as possible to feel each other. Connor muttered your name breathlessly and you even started to moan sensually. You never had expected him to be such a great kisser. He was skilled and knew what he had to do to make you swoon.

With your fingers digging into his brown, tousled hair, you broke the kiss and Connor looked confused at you. You grinned while you stroked with your thumb teasingly over his perfect lips. You stepped back, to create a little space between you two. Your hand reached to the rim of your catsuit where the zipper was. With a very slow and teasingly move, your fingers closed around it to open it slowly. Connor stared at you, his brown eyes becoming darker as he realized what you were about to do.

Connor was so distracted by your glance, your lips and the moves of your swaying hips that he didn’t realize that you were still stepping away from him and then, it was too late. Everything happened very fast. You did one more step which triggered the door to slid open. You slipped through it and laid your hand on the palm scanner to hack it within one second. For you, no problem. As Connor reached the glass door, cursing and all, it was closing tightly in front of him and he slammed his hands violently against it with a thud sound.

“Open the door!”, Connor demanded, punching against the material. You leant against the door from the other side while you closed the zipper again.

“No. Look, I can’t. You have to understand me. I don’t do any harm. I’m just stealing from the rich. And I want to continue with that.”, you explained. The raging expression on Conner’s face let you smirk, “But where would be the fun without you chasing me?”

“So, what? Getting yourself caught was part of your plan the whole time?”

“Yes.”, you admitted with a nod.

“Why?”

You turned over to look him into the eyes. Even if he was mad at you, he was extremely sexy. You still saw passion and lust blazing in his dark eyes. You had awoken something inside of him and he couldn’t deny the effect you had on him.

“I wanted to meet you, Connor. I was dreaming about kissing you for a long time, like you did. And you have to admit that we’re good together. I’m already hungry for more.”, you said low while you stepped back. Connor slammed his hands against the door once again.

“Let me out!”, he grunted but you shook your head.

“No. Catch me again and we can continue where we have stopped.”, you said with a wink before you walked down the hallway.

“YN! Come back!”, Connor screamed, he couldn’t even see you anymore.

“I will see you later, sweetheart.”

“YN!”, Connor screamed, “YN, god damnit!”, he called out and slammed his fist one more time against the door but he knew that you wouldn’t come back. He heard the fading sound of your clicking high heels.

***

As Hank entered the DPD the next morning, he got greeted by laughter. Gavin was the loudest of a group of cops which stood near the cells. Connor was nowhere to be seen and so, Hank closed up to the group to check what was going on.

“You two are the best cops in the whole fucking world. You have my biggest respect. looser.”, Gavin said, teasingly grinning, started to laugh loudly again and disappeared in the kitchen. The others also dispersed after Gavin was gone. Hank, still confused, walked along the empty cells and stopped frowning as he reached the first cell. The cell where he had put you in. With crossed arms, he leant against the glass wall with his shoulder and looked down at Connor who sat on the bank. With his elbows placed on his knees, Connor had buried his face into his hands and didn’t look up. His suit shirt was still unbuttoned and his tie hung loosely around his neck while his hair was tousled.

"She had fooled you, right?", Hank asked. It wasn’t a real question rather a statement.

"Yeah...", Connor admitted low, nodding slowly.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first guy who got tricked by a woman.”, Hank tried to reassure the android. Hank had to bite back a grin. Just the idea was kinda funny for him.

“Maybe. But I promise you, I will catch her again!”, Connor said and looked up. He walked to the door Hank had opened for Connor to get out of the cell finally.

“She won’t be in the city any longer. I’m sure she will be miles away by now.”, Hank said but Connor looked at him and shook his head.

“No, I’m sure we will see her again. And then, I will be prepared.”, Connor said with a lopsided smirk and a determined expression. Hank saw something in his partner’s eyes that he understood as the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was just the wish to pay it back to you but it also could be something else. Something more … personally.

Now, where Connor had tasted you, finding you again had become his new mission.

And he always accomplished his mission.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.24 "Hunting for Bunnies"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, stalking, discussion of homicide/suicide (explicit), injury mention/description, blood (explicit), strangulation mention, gun/gunshot mention, character death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, prison mention, tics/tourrettes (descriptive), ptsd/nightmares, panic attack, chloroform use, self injury, x-acto knife (brief), gag/restraints, discussion of past whump, vomit mention (brief), conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome-type language (let me know if I missed anything!)

Healing was a good look on Elias. As weeks went on, his smile returned to his face, his bruises slowly melted away, the numerous scars scattering his body faded into small pinkish lines. He cut his hair a little shorter, dyed a streak of blue through it. He and Tyson got matching tattoos, little rain clouds and with lightning bolts on their forearms. They were happy, very obviously so.

August wanted to kill both of them for it.

He wasn’t entirely jealous (he was, so jealous he was blood thirsty every second of the day), he was more so just frustrated that Elias thought he was able to be happy without August. He was stupid. Adorable, but stupid. He didn’t know that he needed August to survive. He didn’t know that being away from each other was killing them both. Rather, he didn’t know how much the distance was making August want to kill them both. It would have to be a grand gesture, a murder suicide so beautiful there’ll be copycats. He had to talk himself out of those violent fantasies several times a day, hold himself back from getting out of his car while he followed Elias and just grabbing him. Maybe he’d strangle him again, watch the life drain out of his face, watch him slip into the dark abyss of death. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he’d take him home and torture him until he was broken beyond broken and then put him out of his misery. Single shot to the face, like he’d made Elias do to Sawyer so long ago. And then...August guessed he would do himself in after that. He was tired of being in and out of prison, and if Elias didn’t exist anymore, then what would be the point in living? Maybe that was the thought that made him change his mind, when his hand was on the door handle and he was getting ready to make a huge, violent, romantic scene. Maybe the idea of a world without Elias was just too sad, and he knew he didn’t really want Elias dead. He just wanted him away from Tyson.

They were both entirely oblivious that August was even close by, let alone watching them all the time. He was renting a room at a motel a couple streets away from Tyson’s apartment, but he was hardly ever there. He spent most of his time parked near their apartment, which was conveniently on the first floor and had a large window in the living room that was facing the street. There was also a porch in front, where Elias would occasionally sit outside late at night and smoke cigarettes or blunts. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes Allen was there with him. August often thought about how hilarious it would be to walk up to both of them at times like that, just to see them both unravel with fear at the same time. A few nights, when Tyson is working and Elias is all alone, August sits out front in the grass next to a tree and just watches Elias inside. He can see him smoking in the living room, he watches him pass out on the couch, sometimes he goes into the kitchen, comes back with nothing. When he goes to bed, August watches him lock the door, and it pisses him off so badly he wants to throw a rock through the window. He doesn’t want to go inside, he’s letting Elias heal again, he’s respecting his space, for the moment. Still, knowing that Elias actively wants to keep him out stings. So, he holds off breaking in for as long as he can.

It’s just a shame his resolve isn’t so strong, not when it comes to Elias. He can’t stay away from him anymore, he knew it the second he bought a plane ticket back here to find him, despite the very real possibility of being arrested any second. On the plane, he came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no control when it came to Elias. He couldn’t stay away from him, he couldn’t restrain himself when he was hurting him. He loved Elias, loved him so much it was driving him insane. Things just didn’t make sense when they were apart, August could hardly form a coherent thought that wasn’t about Elias, or how much it hurt to only be able to look but not touch. Though, when he broke in he wasn't able to touch Elias still, but it was at least closer than being separated by a window.

Tyson and Elias left the house, August wasn't sure where or when, but when August finally left his motel and pulled up to their place, the car was gone. It would be easy enough to find them, August had Tyson's number still and could get his location in minutes, if he wanted. Instead, he tested the door handle. It was unlocked. He guessed if they weren't there it didn't matter to them whether someone broke in or not.

August didn't make it obvious he was there, not the first time. He went through some of their things, put everything back in its place. He took one of Elias's shirts, a pair of his boxers. He didn't think either of them would notice, which bummed him out because he wanted Elias to know he was close by.

The next time he snuck in, it was when Elias was there. August had held himself off for as long as he could, he'd been in LA for 28 days already and he hadn't been closer than six feet from him the entire time. So when Elias smoked a huge bowl and went to bed without locking the door, it was like he was practically inviting him in, and August just couldn't help himself. He let himself in, he smoked what was left in Elias's bong, and he walked around the house for a little bit, waiting to make sure Elias was actually asleep before he went to see him.

Something about watching Elias sleep had always made August go disgustingly mushy for him. He looked so small, so vulnerable and unaware. This time was even better, because this time Elias thought he was free, thought that life was moving on without August, and yet here he was, kneeling next to the bed and watching Elias's chest rise and fall with each deep breath. He was beautiful, August was jealous of the moonlight kissing his face and making his face glow pale blue, he was jealous of the blankets wrapped snugly around his waist, he was jealous that Tyson got the privilege of sleeping next to this - his - angel almost every night.

August didn't have the courage to touch Elias, he was afraid that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, he didn't want to get carried away. It might start with trailing his fingertips over his face to see if he'd wake up, then if he didn't he might kiss all over his body until he opened his eyes, then he'd probably smother him with a pillow.

That time when he left, he took the blanket that Elias had been using in the living room earlier. It smelled like him. That night he slept in his car right out front, wrapped up in the same blanket that had touched Elias's skin, his clothes, his face. It was the closest he'd felt to him in months.

After that he was cocky. He found their spare key poorly hidden under a potted plant on the front porch, and he completely took advantage of it. He went in all the time when neither of them were home, cleaning up after them in small, nearly unnoticeable ways, or looking through their things, or just sitting on the bed where Elias often slept, wishing he was there at the moment. He also used it on nights when he couldn’t stand being away from Elias for a second longer, waiting until late in the night to sneak in and sit on the floor for hours to watch him sleep. Once, and he never did it again because Elias almost woke up, August reached out and gently pushed his hair away from his face, where it was tickling the tip of his nose and making his face twitch. It was a reflexive touch, August had only realized he’d done it as an afterthought, when Elias huffed softly and started to move under the blankets. August stared at his hand in disbelief, oh shit I just touched him. And then he left. But Elias still didn’t know he was there, and truthfully, August was getting bored. Bored? Try going insane. He wanted them to notice that something was off, that maybe they weren't as safe as they thought. But they just continued on with their stupid, repulsively happy lives. It was maddening, and at some point August couldn't take it anymore.

The first deliberate mistake he made to blow his cover was running into Allen at a grocery store. He wore a hat and a hoodie, and he carefully avoided him until he was near the front, in a crowd of people. August walked right into him, caught one of the many snack foods that he knocked out of Allen’s overflowing arms, and handed it back to him with a smile.

“Sorry, my bad,” he said smugly, watching Allen’s face fall from his tight frown to a blank, horrified stare. And then he just walked away.

Allen surprisingly didn’t go and tell Tyson and Elias that he saw him, at least if he did, neither of them seemed bothered in the slightest. That irritated August further. He’d been counting on Allen to run and tattle on him, rattle them up so that August could dive headfirst into chaos and whisk Elias away. Incompetent. Unreliable.

So August wrote love notes. He taped them to trees in the yard, tucked them under Tyson’s windshield wipers. They said stupid things like “you’re my favorite brand of heroin, I want to overdose on you” and “I can’t stop thinking about the heavenly way you scream my name today, you look nice by the way”. (His sister had taken a poetry class while they were in high school, he would like to think she would find this humorous. He’d tell her, if she would ever talk to him.) That shook them up a little bit. Really, he believed that Tyson was the only one finding and reading them, and he didn’t think he ever told Elias. Probably didn’t want to scare him. But he started really keeping an eye on the locked doors, as if August hadn’t already made himself at home there multiple times. Elias could sense his tension, it seemed, because he started passing out on the couch and staying there more often, waking up multiple times from nightmares. They were anxious. It wasn’t enough to have them anxious.

Again, August just couldn’t control himself.

So he paid Tyson a visit. He knew his work schedule, knew that he left a little after five in the morning, knew that on normal days he would be home and in bed with Elias by six, they would sleep until around nine. But that day, August was waiting for him, along with chloroform and some duct tape. He followed him to his car, he came up behind him and slowly lowered him to the ground as he knocked him out with the dowsed rag he was holding. He was hardly able to put up a fight. Then he dragged him to his car, and drove him to his motel room. It was easy enough to get inside unnoticed, and also easy enough to tie Tyson up in a chair and gag him before he woke up. He made sure it was all secure before he went back to their apartment.

Elias hadn’t woken up yet, so he had some time to smoke some of his weed and pour himself a glass of wine before he got started. He brought an x-acto knife from his motel, and he wandered around the apartment, slicing into his forearm and using his finger to smear his own blood into declarations of love on their perfect, off-white walls. He wished he could be there when Elias woke up. He could only imagine how his face would look as he walked around reading “I love you so much it hurts”, “you’re mine Bunny”, “we’ll be together forever”, things of that nature. He’d be mortified. Before he left, he slipped into the bedroom and left the nearly empty glass of wine, messy with his bloody handprint, on the bedside dresser so Elias would also see that upon waking up. Then, completely on impulse, he reached out and traced his fingertip over Elias’s cheek in the shape of a heart. The blood on his finger stayed behind on Elias’s pale skin, and August smiled brightly. Elias would be so scared when he got up and was all alone, he’d surely call Tyson first thing. Too bad he wouldn’t have his phone.

August left his car there, took the bus home with his hood pulled low over his face, folding his arms so no one could see the blood seeping through. His hands were buzzing with excitement, high off of the idea of being able to get Elias back.

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

Elias almost slept late into the morning, that was the first sign that something might be wrong. Tyson would usually be home when the sky outside was the washed-out blue it got before sunrise, would crawl into bed with Elias and pull him close. Then he would apologize to Elias for waking him up, and Elias would ignore his apology and ask him about his night, and then they would fall back asleep for a while. That morning, hours and hours after Tyson would usually be home, the sun was floating in through the partially opened curtains and turning the insides of Elias’s eyelids a bright red in it’s warm light. He woke up, stretched against the soft mattress, and then slid his hand over the sheets until he found Tyson, who would be in bed with him by now. Only, he was met with more blankets and an empty bed. Elias could feel the tired, confused scowl spread across his face upon realizing Tyson wasn’t right next to him, but he pushed the bitter anxiety that came with it away. Maybe he was making breakfast, maybe he was in the shower. It was just like Tyson to not wake him up when he decided to start his day, to try and let Elias sleep for as long as he could. He was sweet like that, always had been.

With a yawn, Elias tossed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his tired muscles out. It was still relatively new, and a little weird, for Elias to be able to stretch and move and even breathe without the addition of earth shattering amounts of pain, but he was getting used to it slowly. It didn’t come with nearly as much strange guilt anymore, he could hardly hear that little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he wasn’t deserving of a painless life, a life of ease. Even some days, when that little cruel voice was more of a brutal yell in his ear, telling him that he wasn’t worth any part of this simple, enjoyable life, he was able to get past it now. The voice would say “this is way too nice for you, you don’t deserve any of this”, he was able to, for the most part, smile and think back, “yeah, and aren’t I lucky I get it anyway?” and most of the time, it helped. On days that it didn’t, Tyson stepped in instead, told him anything he needed to hear: “you deserve everything to be nice, you’re an angel” or “it’s a shitty apartment, not a castle, it isn’t ‘too nice’ for anyone,” or sometimes, when Elias couldn’t be convinced, “even if you don’t deserve it, I want you here with me”. It was starting to feel like today was going to be one of the days that Elias needed Tyson to be louder than that voice in his head, as he pushed himself to his feet with ease and felt bad about it. He tried to reassure himself, he told himself that Tyson was right in another room and all Elias had to do to feel better was go see him. That was easy, he could do that.

He would have done that, if right before he stepped toward the door he hadn't caught sight of a wine glass sitting on the dresser next to the bed. The glass was dirty with a rusty brown color, and Elias frowned and looked around the room before stepping closer to it. He was too afraid to pick it up (it still had some deep red wine at the bottom and Elias knew there was a chance that once it was in his hands it would end up as a stain on the floor) so instead he crouched down in front of it, inspecting the grime closely. It was hand shaped, surrounded by a couple of smudges and fingerprints here and there. It looked like blood.

“What the fuck!” Elias ticced, then, much quieter: “Ty?” As he stood straight, his stomach dropped and his head felt light and airy.

No more blood. No more blood. No more please, god, no more.

“Tyson!” He called louder this time, already feeling the familiar burning of panic clawing restlessly in his chest. There was no answer. His mouth and throat were a desert. His knees were shaking. There was blood in his room. Was he bleeding? He tried his best to keep his arms still enough for a moment to run them over his torso to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t even fucking hurt. “Pathetic,” he heard himself whimper, “pathetic, pathetic, pathetic! Ty-fucking pathetic- Tyson!” He stumbled back, away from the blood covered glass. Where was Tyson? Surely, Elias was being loud enough with his irritating shouting to get his attention, he would’ve come running, by now, with a comforting hug and reassurance and promises that Elias is safe and good and not dying.

The apartment was a crime scene straight out of a psychological thriller. Every few feet there were drops of blood on the hardwood, and then when he got the courage to look, he also saw that there was more smeared across the walls. As soon as he recognized it as more drying blood, he closed his eyes tightly, breathing picking up the longer he stood there. He tried to imagine Tyson’s voice teaching him how to calm his breathing: “Inhale, Eli. Deep, deep, all the way into the bottom of your lungs. Good.”

“Good boy, letting me cut you open like this. So pretty for me, all covered in blood.”

No more blood! No more fucking blood no more no more-

“Exhale now, baby.”

No more no more no more no more-

“Elias, breathe out. Stop holding your breath now.”

“You breathe when I allow you to breathe. I don’t think you’ve been behaving well enough for air.”

Don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me!

With his shoulders held high and his head dropped toward the ground so that he could open his eyes without seeing the blood, he turned on his heel and threw himself back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him, letting all the air out of his lungs in ragged sobs. Even then, it was hard to catch his breath in between his unintentional cries of “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

Something deep in his gut made him swivel around and lock the door, and then he slid down it until he was on the floor. He covered his face with his hands, knees up to his chest to protect himself as much as he could. It felt like a nightmare, waking up alone in the middle of the day to find his walls covered in blood, only he just couldn't wake up. “Tyson...Ty...fuck...Tyson…” he crawled across the room, toward his phone, left on the charger next to the bed all night. His fingers were trembling as he tapped in his password, then still as he found Tyson’s contact to call him. As he waited what felt like an agonizingly long time for the ringing to stop, he tucked himself in the corner of the room behind the bed. He made himself small, “pathetic,” so that any pain would be limited to his arms and his legs, and he wouldn’t be hurt so badly, at least.

He couldn’t wait for Tyson to start speaking once he answered the phone, only able to wait with bated breath until the long pause after the last ring.

Click.

“Tyson!” He sobbed, clutching the phone tighter to him like a lifeline. He felt like throwing up. “Ty-Tyson I need you to come ho-fuck-home, I need you to come home right fucking now! P-please-fucking shit- come home.” There was a soft, muffled, sigh on the other line, Elias let out another hoarse sob. “Where the fu-fuck are you?! I...I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry. Tyson please, please co-come home, something’s wrong-”

“Calm down, Bunny.”

No.

No no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO!

“You’re freaking yourself out way too much. You have a tendency to do that. It’s adorable, really.” August laughed, Elias almost threw his phone, barely stopping himself. “But not very helpful.”

“No…” Elias squeaked out. He craned his neck to look over the bed at the wine glass. August was here. Is he still here? Elias folded in on himself smaller, safer, more pathetic, “fucking pathetic!” He ticced. August laughed again. “N-no, please, August. Please don’t...don’t…”

August made a soft shushing sound, slightly softened by the static of the phone. Elias’s head always gets messed up when August acts like that, makes it feel like cotton candy and causes his chest to flutter in an agonizingly confusing way.

Sometimes he’s so nice to me I think, since I have no other choice, I’ll force myself to love him. Just so that my love doesn’t go unused. That way I’m not a waste of life completely.

“Stop working yourself up, sweetheart. Seriously, I want to have a conversation with you, you always do this.” He sighed, gruffly, with an air of boredom. “Pretty fucking annoying honestly.”

Sometimes I want to give him a bunch of his own stupid drugs and drag his ass down the stairs and chain him up and bleed him dry-

No more blood! No more blood!

Elias gritted his teeth, he tried to feel the scar on the back of his tongue, he tried to keep his mouth shut. “Where’s...Tyson?” He grumbled.

“Ugh, shut the fuck up!” August shouted.

Elias flinched, pulling the phone away from his face. He didn’t think he heard an echo of his yell in the house. He listened, close, and could hear August’s voice distantly on the phone, but not out in the hall. Not distantly, in the living room or kitchen. He relaxed a little, straightened out his spine as he pulled his phone back to his ear.

“I was about to tell you all of that. I had a whole speech...Impatient little thing.”

Elias forced himself to his feet, took a few shaking steps for the door. He didn’t turn the lock, not right away, shaking hand hesitating over the brass knob. “If y-you hurt him I’ll-”

Again, August chuckled cynically at Elias’s stammering, his false braveness, his beginning to an empty threat. Elias cringed hard. He wanted to hang up the phone and crawl back into bed, fall asleep, and then wake up from this nightmare to find Tyson next to him. But he wasn’t in a nightmare, and his apartment was covered in blood, and Tyson was gone.

“This would be so much easier for all three of us if you just listened, Bunny. Can you be a good boy and listen closely for a second?”

Embarrassingly, Elias felt his knees buckle at the words, and he reflexively nodded at August’s voice.

I’ll do anything you ask, just call me good, just stop hurting me, I’ll do whatever you want.

When August spoke again, Elias could hear the smile to his voice without even seeing him. “Perfect, sweetheart. Now, I need you to do everything I say, ok? Tyson will be just fine if you just do exactly what I tell you.”

“Oh, f-fuck,” Elias whimpered, pressing his forehead against the door to try and steady himself, “God fucking d-dammit-”

“Shh, Bunny. Take a deep breath.” Somehow, August had added some sort of softness to his words, making himself sound caring and gentle and human, and it made Elias even angrier.

Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar!

He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, just because he was told to, just because it was August’s voice telling him what to do, and it was easier to just listen to whatever he was told the first time rather than face the ugly alternative.

“I left my car keys on your kitchen counter, my car is right out front. Full tank of gas, it drives beautifully, by the way. Can I trust you to take care of it when you drive it over here?”

Elias unlocked the door with his breath still held, shuffling out into the hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at the blood on the wall, and his stomach churns terribly. Before he could even process it, his shoulder hit the wall as he stumbled to the side.

I love you so much it hurts.

Elias would prefer the freezing blanket of death over the paralyzing fear he felt reading that.

We’ll be together forever.

He could never get away. No matter where he went or what he did, August would find him, August would destroy him. Maybe it would be easier to just hand himself over to the wolves instead of trying to outrun them.

You’re mine, Bunny.

There were scars everywhere on Elias’s body that validated that, there was a switch in his brain that flipped every time someone sounded too much like August that also proved it, Elias belonged to him now, even when he was far away from him.

“I asked you a question, baby. Will you take care of my car?”

“You’re fucking c...crazy.” Elias cast his eyes back to the ground, pushing himself off of the wall and stumbling out to the kitchen. He found the keys August was talking about. Thinking about August in the apartment, helping himself to a glass of wine, tossing his keys onto the counter, made Elias sway where he stood.

There was a groan on the other line. August was annoyed, Elias would have to pay for that. “I know that, idiot. You don’t think I fucking know that?” A sigh, a soft thud in the back, a small laugh. “Just get here, ok? The address is written on a paper in my car. You might want to hurry, Tyson’s waking up and he’ll be wondering where you are. And if you take too long...he’ll be wondering why you didn’t come rescue him.”

He laughs.

Elias wants to kill him.

Click.

[iamdeku]

Broken Ribs and Whole Hearts

Description: A Deku x Reader where the reader is a nurse who finds an unexpected guest in her emergency room. A continuation of this post.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury/some light gore. Talk of painkillers administered by a medical professional. Fluff.

It was safe to say that when you woke up this morning you weren’t expecting to find the life of the number one hero in your hands.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t worked with heroes before. You had plenty of experience with them, since they had a way of getting themselves hurt. That being said, you’d never worked with this particular hero before, and you were a little bit starstruck.

You wouldn’t call yourself a fan of Deku, but you weren’t not a fan. You saw him on the news all the time, but that was virtually impossible to avoid since he seemed to find his way onto every crime scene. If there was someone who needed help, Deku was there.

Right now though, he was here, bleeding out.

You had heard about the fight from your coworkers. It was hard to avoid hearing about a battle on that scale when you worked in a hospital. You had already been getting civilians in for treatment, but the heroes came last and were, naturally, priority since their injuries tended to be far more severe. Deku was no exception to this rule, and when he was rushed through the doors you were quick to fill your empty hands, not even realizing who he was until you went to assess the patient.

You jolted back a little bit in surprise, seeing the shock of green hair and bleary green eyes peering up at you. In your moment of surprise leaning over him, he cracked a blood-smeared smile.

“Are you an angel?” He asked softly.

“He’s delirious from the blood loss,” you declared, quickly getting to work surveying the rest of the damage. “Several cracked ribs, and I think he may have punctured a lung.”

As you continued to rattle off instructions and commentary, Deku continued staring at you. You, unwittingly, had become his lifeline. He kept his eyes open out of sheer desire not to look away from you. You were so capable, not faltering once after your initial shock. He was in awe of you.

Eventually, Deku was rushed into the operating room, and then he had no choice but to go under. When he woke up though, lo and behold, it was you there, checking his vitals and adjusting some things.

He opened his dry mouth, preparing his cracked voice to speak. “Well if it isn’t the prettiest nurse in all of Musutafu.” 

You jump slightly, not having expected him to wake up. You fidget with your hands, a nervous habit.

“Oh, hello Deku. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse.” Deku would have shrugged, but he knew from experience that would make things worse.

He turned his eyes to the rest of the hospital room, taking a look around. He was in a standard hospital gown, which he joked was his “back-up uniform”. An IV fed drugs into his arm as necessary, and he knew he must be on some pretty good pain killers if the slightly hazy feeling in his head and the warm confidence in his chest were any indication. 

“So, any chance you’ll go out on a date with me?” he asked.

You stiffen in surprise, but then grin teasingly at him. “Wow, the morphine is talking pretty loud today, huh? Who knew the number one hero was such a light-weight? Maybe I should lower your dosage.”

Deku winced. “Please don’t. I have a high pain tolerance, but not that high.”

Your beautiful smile turned to a look of concern.

“Are you in any pain right now?”

Deku quickly shook his head, which actually did cause him some pain from the force of the movement. 

“I’m fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s working great.” He smiled encouragingly at you.

You visibly relaxed from where you stood by his bedside.

“Okay, well just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m sure you know the drill, but you can just press this button right here for help.” You showed him where it was.

“Any chance I can get your number before you go?” He asked hopefully, unwittingly throwing you into cardiac arrest.

“I will take away your painkillers, Mr. Midoriya,” you threatened over your shoulder as you walked out.

Little did either of you know it, but Izuku was going to be spending a lot more time with you. His tendency to get injured on your shifts almost made you believe he was doing it on purpose. You asked him once when he was drugged up, but he would admit to nothing, only giving you a slightly loopy smile before falling asleep.

Once he was settled into his hospital rooms though, he made no secret of it. He would blatantly request you, or rather, “the prettiest nurse in Musutafu.”

“You know I have a name right?” you asked, looking at his chart like you didn’t have it basically memorized.

“Yes, I just happen to think this more fitting. I can stop if it bothers you though.” 

Suddenly your confident hero had turned into a Christmas tree, whole face from the neck up turning red as a cherry. Feeling a desperate need to sooth him, you hurriedly corrected yourself.

“No, this is fine! I mean, I can’t really complain, can I?”

“Pretty sure you just did,” he teased.

You two continued on in this way until you would nearly consider yourself friends with the hero. In fact, you had started a routine of eating lunch with each other after an incident where you had both been in the hospital cafeteria at the same time and had sat together. Since then you had repeated the encounter a few times, though never exactly on purpose. You had even gone to dinner with him once, just as friends, to some fancy new restaurant he claimed to need a date to, since eating alone was ‘boring’. You had grown into a comfortable rhythm with him over time, and then it happened.

It was the first rain of the season, and you had your window open to let in the smell. You were peacefully making some soup in your kitchen on your night off. Your gray sweats clung to your hips, comfy t-shirt wrapping you up under the warm lighting of your cozy kitchen. The cheerful paint of the walls beamed at you as you swayed softly, humming along to the song on the radio.

All of your peace was shattered the moment Deku fell through your window, hand clutching his side, at the exact same moment your tea kettle screamed at you. You quickly moved it off the heat, nearly sloshing water onto your usually steady hands before rushing across the room to your fallen hero.

“Izuku!” you gasped, turning him over on the floor.

He smiled up at you, not looking nearly as concerned as he should be.

“Hi.”

“Why are you here? You should be in a hospital.”

“I just wanted to see you.” He reached up to cup your cheek in his warm, broken hand.

“You can’t be here Izuku. You’re hurt.”

“You’re my nurse. You’ll take care of me.”

He smiled at you with so much faith it cracked something in your chest. An overflowing font of affection for this man, this hero, welled up in you, begging to be let out. You thought of every time you had seen him broken, the implicit trust he had in you to piece him back together. To take care of him. 

You swallowed down your tears, mirroring the smile on his face, trying to be as brave as he was. “You have a stab wound in your side. It doesn’t look too deep, but you still need serious medical attention.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

He was staring at you, those deep green eyes brushing up against your soul, flirting with your deepest secrets, dancing around the unspoken truths weighing down your tongue, things you both knew. Things neither of you could say, as far as you were concerned, but Izuku Midoriya had always had an open heart and a loose tongue, and so he said them slow and easy, honey slipping through his teeth and coating his cracked lips.

“Kiss me.” 

“That...that wouldn’t be very ethical of me.” Despite your words you are leaning in, nose brushing his.

It is not a demand, not a question, not a request. It is a gasping, haunting, wavering plea, he is begging and you are teetering on the edge of a cliff you wouldn’t admit existed until you were borderline tumbling off of it.

"Can I...?"

This time it is a question, and you find yourself drawn into him. He is the Jupiter to your Io, and you are lost to a constellation, entwined in your own milky way. Your shadow blends into his, pressed flat against the grain of your wood floors, as your lips whisper against his. It is barely a touch, just a taste of what is to come, but it is all the permission he needs.

He surges forward to kiss you, and it is something foreign, something incomprehensible as he catches you with his chapped lips. He tastes of bitter, salty blood as the rush of his breath fills you, slipping down your throat and curling through your lungs. You have never done this before, never felt whatever is warping the planes of your chest and the contours of your heart. It is as though you have met yourself in him.

It is a ravaging sort of feeling, even though the kiss itself is achingly soft, heartbreakingly slow. He is so gentle with you, as though you are the breakable one here, when in fact you have had to put him back together too many times to count. You allow it though, you allow it because you have seen firsthand how Izuku Midoriya’s large, scarred hero hands touch everything with this sort of gentle kindness, a piece of his heart slipping through the spaces between his knuckles and digging into the pads of his fingertips. 

When you pull away it is slowly, reluctantly, a smile taking over your face. Izuku's smile matches yours, his eyes sparkling as he reaches up to brush a thumb across your lip, a light laugh escaping him. It is this action that brings you back to yourself, snaps you out of your haze as his thumb streaks blood across the swell of your mouth. Your body jerks back away from him suddenly, and worry flickers over his face.

"Izuku Midoriya! How dare you distract me like that! Did you think I wouldn't take you to the hospital if you kissed me?"

He has the nerve to look a little guilty.

"I don't need to go, really. It will just inconvenience them."

You grind your teeth. "We. Are. Going."

And over time, Izuku learns that eventually, all roads lead to the hospital. Because all roads lead to you.

[lovesgonnabe]

Love Is Worth It - Episode I

 It Was Just A Normal Day

Characters: Chris Evans x Maya Alonso-Evans (Black OFC)

Warnings: Angst, Nothing extreme but could upset some, cursing, slight Implied smut

Word Count: 2k

Summary: What happens when those that don’t agree with you or your love are in positions of power?

Authors Note: This is out a lot earlier than expected so I hope you all enjoy. Also it has been a while since I’ve written so please bear with my rustiness, and there’s slight edits so there may be errors.

Disclaimer: There is slight police abuse of power that may be triggering to some.

Taglist: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss if you would like to join the taglist message me. 

Please leave a note and tell me what you think!

October 24th, 2019 

The day started out just like any other...

Chris woke up at 5am to go on a run with Dodger.

I got up 30 minutes later headed to our home gym got on the Peloton for a workout then get started on breakfast.

Chris and Dodger get back around 6:30am

At 6:45am Chris carries me to the shower where we have “spontaneous” shower sex till Delilah knocks on our door.

7:30am I get Delilah ready for school then we eat breakfast as a family while Chris and I play footsie under the table and he quizzes her on current events. Did I mention she’s only 5 years old...

At 8:30am Chris and Delilah are out the door headed to school since it’s on the way to the set for Chris’s next project.

At this time I’m just sipping coffee reviewing my appointment schedule at the office and I head out the door at 9am.

It was just a normal day but something felt off.

When I pulled out of the gate of my driveway I see a Boston PD car just sitting on the corner next to our noisiest neighbor Mrs. Goldheim. She’s 70 and acts like she has no business to tend to but mine when what she really should be doing is getting some of her own dick, so she can hop off my dick and mind her damn business.

Anyway I’m getting off topic, as I drive down the road that same police cruiser begins to follow me lights off and at a safe distance for about a mile and then turns left down Sycamore, I was mad confused but I didn’t have time to think about the weird ass Boston cops right now.

I got to the office around 9:45am, had my first client at 10am and from that point It was nonstop between facials to acne treatments to talking women who don’t need plastic surgery off of that ledge I had my hands full for it only being the middle of October. But hey that’s the life I signed up for when becoming a dermatologist.

My last meeting about my new skincare venture ended at 5:30pm and I went to pick up Delilah from after school care. We stopped by the supermarket to get groceries so I could hopefully make my abuelas famous arroz con pollo for dinner tonight.

As a treat we stopped at Cold Stone got two pints of chocolate devotion for our after dinner mini celebration. Since not even a month ago Delilah was moved ahead to the first grade and got an A on her recent math test.

This is where the normal day began to take a nosedive.

Around 8pm we were headed to the house from Cold Stone, my little Dede and I were talking about her day, and Chris called to let us know that filming ended a tad early and he was already home.

We are just around the corner when I see another police cruiser this time they were following a lot closer but yet again they had on no lights.

My hands began to clam up as I kept looking in the mirrors at the two white men in the vehicle following me.

As I pulled into my gate they followed me in. Rushing I parked, grabbed my purse, and got out, unhooked Delilah from the seat and carried her to the door.

“Excuse me Miss” one of the officers spoke stopping me before I could enter my home. I felt like I was frozen In place with a  hand on the doorknob.

“Mommy what’s wrong” Delilah asked looking at me with fright her big brown eyes. I turned around putting my shy ray of sunshine down, with a reassuring  smile, I look at her and tell her that everything was alright as she hid behind my legs while the officers approached us.

It might be because I’m scared but it felt as if they both were towering over me, even though i was the one with the high ground standing on the steps. 

One man looked like he was on a mission while the other looked like he was just there for observation.

The younger one looked at Delilah and said “there is no reason to be afraid sweetheart we are the good guys” the tension was thick as Delilah looked up at me and no one said a word.

The older man of the two cleared his throat and looked at me dead in the eyes as if he was trying to intimidate me.

“Good Evening Miss, are you the nanny? I’m looking for your boss.” I raised an eyebrow ignoring the question and asked “can I please get her in the house?” both officers looked at each other weird since I didn’t answer his original question but both nodded.

I looked at my watch showing it to be 8:40pm usually I would kissing my man trying to figure out the best way to get him out of his clothes. But at the moment I’m standing on my steps scared for our life.

I unlocked the door and told her to go and get her dad who at the time was in the living room playing the grand piano. The beautiful sounds of the piano could be heard when I opened the door and as I closed the door you can hear Dodger bark and scurry toward the door.

The officer began to speak once more “now I’m going to ask you again Miss is your boss home?”

Placing my hand on my hip, I let out an exasperated sighed and said “if I had a boss and they were here I would be very confused”.

The younger officer eyes grew out of surprise and the older officer did not look too happy by my snarky remark.

“Miss please cooperate we don’t want any trouble, but since you can’t answer my questions hand over your license” the older officer said with a smug look and his gloved hand outstretched.

My stomach grew with a bubble of nerves even though it can’t be seen on my face i was scared.

“If I may ask officers what is this about this is my home have I done something wrong?” I huffed retrieving my license and handing it to the older officer, “we will see about that” he says and walks to the cruiser leaving the other officer in silence.

“Look we are just doing the job we were called out to do” the younger officer said to me I looked at him like he had two heads but before I could say another word Chris walked out the door closing it behind him.

He look so damn fine in grey sweats with a matching crew neck sweater, his gold chain I bought him for Father’s Day laying on top and his Red Sox cap pointed to the back.

He came up next to me wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head, mumbling. “Baby are you alright?” he asks looking at me rubbing my back as I look at him.

I nod as a sense of calm settles over my body as he familiar sent and touch centers me and makes me feel safe.

“Is there a problem officer? He asked now removing his arm from my body to cross his arms and stand in front of me as if he was my bodyguard.

“Wow you’re Captain America” the officer said in shock as Chris and I rolled our eyes.

“Yea I know but I asked you is there a problem officer” Chris asked slowly getting closer to the younger now shitting his pants scared officer.

I love that he is trying to defend me but we don’t want to make matters worse so I grab his arm to pull him back a bit. Which didn’t work because all he did was softly move my hand a say “let me handle it love”.

I rolled my eyes and watched the shit show unravel. The officer stuttered and Chris cut him off.

“Look I know you are here to do your job but you are on my property and harassing my wife so I would like to know what the problem is what has she done?”

He didn’t look upset and Chris said it respectfully but it was just a feeling that Chris did not want to be fucked with at this moment.

There was another beat of awkward silence the officer was too scared to speak. Chris rubbed his beard and chuckled “can anyone answer my goddamn question as to my wife is in front of our home being harassed” it was like his voice dropped an octave and my panties got wet.

I’m literally trying to tell my brain to stop thinking about using my husband as my personal jungle gym, that this wasn’t the time for that, but I digress so to distract myself for a second I looked at my watch again stating it was only 9:20pm.

Damn I’m not sure if time was moving too slow or too fast but by the time I focused back on Chris and the officers they were being cussed the fuck out.

“What the fuck do you mean you have to take her because she fits the profile of a suspect, do you have a warrant, what the fuck did she even do officer!”

“Mr. Evans we understand that you are upset but we need you to calm down” the younger officer said to a red faced Chris.

“Don’t you tell me to fucking calm down when you are also trying telling me, you want to arrest my wife for some crime she didn’t commit because she’s black” Chris was now fuming.

“Sir this isn’t about race, there has been a string of burglaries in the neighborhood and she fits the description of the suspect we are looking for, we just want to take her in and ask a few questions” the older officer answered.

From where I was standing I could see everything especially how the officer had one hand on his gun holster and the other with cuffs ready to be put around my wrist.

All three men proceed to argue, I had to step in this was getting out of hand and in a minute I would not be the only one in handcuffs.

Walking over to the group who were now in the middle of my driveway with my hands out then they all went quiet.

“Chris honey it’s okay, this is ridiculous I know but let me go with them, you call Austin, tell him what’s happening and then come to the station I will be fine” I said looking at his blue eyes with slight tears as his breathing quickened.

I was hoping to be okay at least for Chris’s sake so he won’t kill the two men in front of me. He read me my rights with Chris now desperately pleading with them to release me.

As the older guard roughly grabs me pulling me towards the cruiser Delilah runs out of the house with Dodger behind her with tears in her eyes.

“Dede get back inside” Chris says as he grabs a barking Dodger who was headed straight for me “daddy why are they taking mommy, what’s wrong she said everything was ok” then she wails out “please don’t take my mommy” over and over while she kicked and screamed when Chris picked her up and ushered the 3 of them back into the house.

A tear slips down my face as my head is lowered into the car and the door to our home closes. One officer looked remorseful and the other looked so satisfied as he looked back at me through the rear view.

He threw on his sirens like he caught some mass murder that he’d been hunting for years.

Then he laughed a menacing laugh taunting me.

“You thought just because you are fucking some white man with money you would get off? Well I’m sorry to break it to you sweetheart but that not how the world works for people like you.” He said to me as I cried harder.

“That’s enough Whitmer I think she get it” the younger officer said.

The rest of the ride the only sound was the radio. I was booked and brought into a cell by myself cold and alone but thanking god that at least I was alive and not hurt.

All I could think about was the smile on my little Delilah’s face and how today was just supposed to be just another Normal day.

I guess those are slim when you’re Black in White America.