#i really thought one character we met toward the end might be Wolfish but. he was just a genuinely nice guy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bwemph · 4 years

Text

The Measure of Things | Chapter 4 | Just Like Old Times

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: After seeking some quiet on the planet Minikov, a band of pirates attack the inn where you and Din stop for lunch. An old friend, Ra’vena Zapal, urges you and Din to hunt them down and bring peace back to Minikov. The two of you accept the mission, and you prepare to bring down the band of brigands, just like old times.

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, y e a r n i n g, angst

The journey out of the atmosphere was bumpy, to say the least.

The Razor Crest rattled and sputtered as Mando dodged some of the larger meteors that screened Rabadus off from the rest of the galaxy. The smaller rocks knocked against the sides of the ship and rattled the hull.

The baby gave a dismayed cry at the loud noises outside and at the way his pram shook vigorously.

Fortunately, the assailant’s ship couldn’t keep up with Mando and crashed straight into one massive, looming asteroid.

Mando made the jump to lightspeed.

A little red light flashed repeatedly on his dashboard; he was receiving a transmission.

In the moments following, an image of a lanky man with dishwater blond hair who was clad in a grey and red uniform appeared before them on the holoprojector.

His face was wrinkled in some unsavory mix of a wicked smirk and a glower.

“This is Jido Horne of the Star Crawlers,” the hologram spoke. “We demand that you hand over the child, Mandalorian, or else there will be consequences. You saw what we did to your little friend’s shipyard. We won’t hesitate to do the same to you.” Jido’s smirk-glare twisted into a sickening, sparsely toothed grin. “My deputies are transmitting coordinates for a rendezvous as I speak. Meet us there by the end of the week or we will find you and we will light you up like sweet y/n’s boyfriend. Consider this your one and only warning.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet as confusion twisted your features. They knew your name. They knew about you. How? And how did they know about Max? Did Mando say something? Was that what he meant when he said he was here for “work”? Or did these brutes raid the Base’s computers? Who even were the Star Crawlers?

A hundred more questions circled in your brain as you stood and gripped Mando’s seat.

“Mando, what’s going on?” you asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

His gaze remained set on the hundreds of stars whizzing by in tubes of white light. You weren’t sure if he was just contemplating his response or ignoring you as he sometimes would when he thought he knew better than you.

“Mando.”

His helmet tilted down to the baby in his lap, and he stared back with his wide eyes.

“They’re after the baby, just like everyone else in this damn galaxy!” He brought a fist down to the dashboard in frustration.

The sudden expression of force made you take a step backward, your heart thudding a little in your chest.

A sigh slipped through his vocoder and he stood to face you, placing the child in the pram first. He softened, his head dropping again. “You never should have gotten wrapped up in this. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on?” you asked again, your voice small and shaking a little.

He rested a hand on the edge of the pram, casting a glance as the baby’s hand went over his in a small, comforting gesture.

“There’s remnants of the Empire that have been after the kid for months now. They have whole companies of hunters after him, and not just hunters from the Guild. Now that these Star Crawlers seen you with me, there’s a target on your back, too.”

You fell silent, only finding a nod as a response. You fell back in your seat again, eyes fixated on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Mando finally asked, crouching in front of you to meet your eyes.

His touch on your arm snapped you from your trance.

You gave a heavy, albeit shaky, sigh. “I will be. I...I need a shower.”

He nodded once and stood again. “You know where the fresher is.”

“Thank you.”

***

The water was cold at first, but it warmed up a little the longer you were in the shower. You always seemed to be able to clear your mind in the shower, to restart and refocus.

Restart and refocus looked like letting out your pent up tears. Heavy, ugly sobs wracked your shoulders for you don’t know how long. You tried to keep them quiet, to smother them with your hands, and you could only hope to no avail that you were successful.

Finally, with wet hair and dry eyes, you stepped out of the fresher and found a neatly folded towel and a new set of clothes that probably wouldn’t fit you very well, but it would be a refreshing change from your sweat and grease-covered mechanic clothes.

Those definitely were not there before you got in. You found a tiny smile within yourself.

After drying off, you took a moment to look in the mirror. To your relief, the hickeys Max left were finally fading away.

Oh god, Max.

He was gone. That Jido character said it himself. Max had been blown up just like HE-27, just like Stantin, just like the entirety of Rabadus Base and most of its staff and the cargo ships and the pilots and--

No. You couldn’t let yourself think like that. Yours, Mando’s, and the baby’s lives were in danger, so you had to focus on the present, the future, and not the past.

“What’s done is done,” you said to yourself, pulling Mando’s tunic over your head.

You returned to the cockpit after getting dressed.

The ship had left lightspeed and you were simply floating in space now.

The baby was fast asleep in the pram, its little snores providing a soft white noise that you thought might have lulled Mando to sleep as well.

But as you entered, his helmet turned in a subtle acknowledgment of your presence. You stood next to him and stared out at the wide expanse of space that stretched out infinitely in front of you.

“What’s next?” you asked.

He tore his eyes from you and flipped on a few switches. “I’ve charted a course for Minikov. We’ll lay low there for a little while until we figure out our next move.”

“Minikov…” you murmured to yourself. It sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where the planet was or why you knew the name. “That’s not where we tracked down Nej Angard and his goons, is it? That time when we nearly got trampled to death by the Irkoxen?”

“That’s the one.”

You swore you heard a hint of a chuckle in his voice as if he too were remembering fleeing across the wide open prairie terrain from the gray and brown cow-like creatures with the sharp, wolfish teeth.

You laughed softly. “I probably haven’t run quite like that since that day.”

“Me either. And I don’t really intend to,” he quipped.

“Well, we’ll see when we get there, eh?”

You sighed a little as the ship left hyperspace. The planet loomed before you, sparsely populated with no ships leaving or entering the atmosphere.

Mando landed the Crest a little ways away from the main town on Minikov: Besutis. It was the most densely populated place around, which wasn’t saying much, seeing as the population was maybe a couple hundred people maximum.

It was a perpetual early summer on this planet. Flowers were in full bloom, and a breeze cooled the air that steadily heated up as the crescent shaped sun rose higher in the sky.

You and Mando drew many gazes as you ambled through the town toward the tiny inn at the end of the street.

Most of the small, scattered crowd, a healthy mix of humans and twi’leks, likely recognized you. It’s not often you see a Mandalorian with a companion on the same planet twice. Those that didn’t recognize you were probably more intrigued and their gazes were a little more prying. You could see the gears turning in their heads as you met their eyes.

Inside the inn was quiet, nearly deserted. Two or three foreigners sipped on tea in the corners of the room, but otherwise, it was entirely vacant.

A twi’lek woman with crimson skin emerged from the kitchen holding a tray of some kind of freshly cooked meat. It smelled fantastic given your empty stomach that only now started complaining.

She set the food in front of one of the patrons before turning to you and Mando. The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled at the familiar faces.

“Mando! Y/n!” the twi’lek cried in excitement. She bounded over to greet both of you with hugs and handshakes.

“Ra’vena,” you greeted, embracing her warm hug.

Ra’vena grinned, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her two favorite travelers. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you two again.”

“The pleasure’s all ours,” Mando returned.

“Please, take a seat.” She gestured to the empty tables scattered about the dining room. “Can I offer something to drink? It’ll be on the house, whatever you two need.” Her eyes dropped to the pram that hovered next to Mando, and she laughed softly, caressing the baby’s large ear that drooped as he yawned. “Or, I suppose, whatever you three need.”

“I’m starved,” you said. “I can meet you back at the Crest if you want to eat something too, Mando.”

“That’s alright,” he replied. “I’m sure the kid will want to eat, though.”

Despite the child struggling to keep his eyes open, his gaze was locked on the meat that Ra’vena placed in front of the Rodian across the room.

“I’ll have something right out for you, then.”

Ra’vena disappeared again behind the doors to the kitchen, leaving you with Mando and the baby.

You gazed at Mando for quite some time, trying to find the courage to voice your next thought.

“You came to hide.”

“What?”

You shifted in your seat to get a better look at him. “When you came to Rabadus, it wasn’t for work. You were there to hide.”

“And it took you this long to put that together?”

“No, it just took me this long to call it out.”

Ra’vena emerged from the kitchen again and placed a bowl in front of you, then a slightly smaller bowl in front of the child. “Chef’s special. You two will love it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a spoonful of the piping hot stew. It was just the right balance of spicy and savory, and the right balance of meat and assorted vegetables. You nodded gratefully at Ra’vena before she went to attend to another patron.

You turned your attention back to Mando. “You’re not a step ahead of the competition this time. You don’t even know what you’ll do while we’re here, do you?”

“What’s your point?” There was a coarse edge to his voice; it was just short of a snap.

You reached out and touched his forearm, setting down your spoon. The soft heat of the flamethrower in his brace warmed your bare fingertips slightly. “I want to help you, Mando.” Your eyes dropped to the table and you withdrew your hand, remembering the day you left the Bounty Hunter’s Guild and looked upon the betrayed faces of your found family for the last time. All save for Mando’s, anyway, and it wasn’t just because of the helmet that hid his surely handsome face.

Memories rushed back of the band of hooligans who kidnapped you and Mando, who coaxed valuable and very sensitive information of the Guild and some of its highly sought after members out of you after days and days of interrogation—after days and days of torture. Shame overtook you when you recalled them setting you free, beaten and bruised, but they kept Mando. He hadn’t broken yet. He was too strong for them.

Obviously, he had escaped. Just weeks ago, you heard news of a Mandalorian on the run, and there was no doubt it was him. You just didn’t realize the quarry he had stolen was so small, so...delicate.

You gazed at the baby for a moment before breaking free from your thoughts.

“I know we never really talked about what happened before I left the Guild, but...I just want to put it in the past. We’re here now and as long as we’re both on the run, well, I don’t think we should leave each other behind.” You set your jaw. “Not this time.”

Mando looked around at the prying eyes, but his gaze was enough to make any nosey listeners avert their curious stares.

He lowered his voice, and this time it was he who reached out to touch your hand. “You know I don’t blame you for anything that happened, right?”

You slowly withdrew and wrung your fingers. You gazed at him with wide eyes as you processed that, given that you assumed he was always bitter for being left high and dry in such a tense and dangerous situation.

Maybe it was just your guilt talking to you, though.

“I know you didn’t have a choice,” he went on. “You had no chance barging back in there on your own. Besides,” he chuckled a little to lighten the mood, “I made it out just fine.”

You opened your mouth to respond, a tiny smile playing on your lips. His words eased your anxieties about anything that happened before. He was always good at making you relax with just a few words.

No words had the chance to drop from your mouth when the front door flew open and slammed against the wall so hard that it bounced back and nearly hit the group entering the inn.

Seven human men entered, blasters drawn with sinister smirks on their faces.

Immediately, they opened fire on the staff and customers.

“Get down!” Mando instructed, flipping the table up so he, you, and the baby could hide behind it.

He drew his blaster and began firing back at the assailants now flooding the inn.

You turned, eyes wide as one of them approached from behind the table. “Mando!” you cried.

He whipped around and shot at the man towering over the three of you, and he slumped to the ground, dropping his blaster. It skidded to a stop at your feet.

Without hesitation, you picked it up and began firing at the two men making a beeline for the cash register where another twi’lek cowered, gritting your teeth as you just barely missed the top of his head, nowhere close to the enemies.

After a couple lucky shots, you were able to cut them down before they could fill their pockets any further.

It wasn’t long before the thieves were eliminated and lay scattered about the inn floor. The disarray eased, and despite the bodies on the ground and shaken up customers, it was as if nothing had happened.

You looked to Ra’vena, who stood in shock for a moment as thought she hadn’t processed the chaos yet.

Slowly, her gaze turned to you and Mando, who was placing the baby back in the pram and closing it in case of any more danger.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking a little.

“Who the hell was that?” Mando asked, a hand remaining on the pram.

Ra’vena swallowed hard, her gaze still stuck on the crumpled man that lay in front of her. “Pirates. Nej Angard hired them. They’ve been terrorizing us for weeks now, and we’ve had nothing to do about it without anyone like you two here.”

“Angard?” you said. “That bastard is still around these parts?”

“Unfortunately.” Ra’vena gathered some spilled silverware across the room. “Gives us a headache whenever he and his men show their faces around these parts. They do nothing but rob our establishments and start shootouts in the streets. We haven’t known peace since they showed up. Mayor Dolpho has a hefty reward for anybody who will bring back Angard’s head.” She sighed. “Nobody around here has much gusto for that kind of thing, though.”

You shared a brief glance with Mando. You already knew what he was thinking.

You could already hear the delighted grin in his voice. “I think I know what we will do while we’re here,”

****

Before heading off to sniff out Angard and the pirates, Mando insisted you come back to the Crest with him. He wouldn’t tell you why.

The two of you left the baby at the inn with Ra’vena, as she assured Mando the child would be safe and well taken care of in her private quarters while you took care of the pirate problem.

“Come on,” you pressed, pushing Mando’s arm gently, “why didn’t we just go straight to the camp? Ra’vena already told us where it was and everything!”

“Well, if we’re going to face pirates, you’ll be needing something more than that blaster pistol.” He opened the hatch, making sure you were following behind him. “Wouldn’t do much for us anyway,” he added.

“Hey!” you fired back. “I’m just rusty is all. With a little more practice I’d be just fine!”

“Well, we don’t have time for practice,” he said, entering the code that opened his small arsenal. “Which is why you need this.”

He pulled a staff from the vault, handing it delicately to you.

Your breath caught as your fingers closed around the weapon. It fit perfectly in your palms, flawlessly balanced as if you had held it yesterday. Your electrostaff.

“You held onto it all this time?” you said, gazing at it in disbelief.

He nodded once.

With the click of a button, the staff lit up with purple electricity at both ends. You took a moment to swing the weapon around, fighting off imaginary foes and planting the ends into their theoretical chests.

A grin lit up your face. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.”

The electricity dissipated, and you sighed, slinging the staff over your back by the hand woven strap you picked up on one of your many adventures with him. “It’ll be just like old times, eh Mando?”

A laugh crackled through his vocoder. “Just like old times.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #the child #baby yoda #the measure of things #star wars #star wars the mandalorian

18 notes · View notes

alittleshocking · 4 years

Text

Nightmare on Main Street (*) [Shanius feat. Mariel]

In which Shock and Lock cause some mischief on Halloween...

@littlcdvl, @princess-mei, @ariel-the-rebel

[tw -- violence (though mild, mostly scaring ppl), premeditated attack, graphic thoughts of violence]

LOCK: Halloween was the Adamsons’ night. Every year without fail, they got an itch. An itch that had to be scratched. And it was never their way for them to ignore it.

This year was different though. This year they were in Swynlake. A town full of magic that had its fair share of disasters sweep through its streets. You might have thought that one of these disasters would ruin their plans for mayhem tonight. But as luck would have it, tonight’s disaster seemed to be working in their favor.

They had decided to wear werewolf masks and go around scaring kids that ran into their path or get into character and cause some werewolf destruction. Busted windows, excessive ‘claw’ marks on doors, pro wolf graffiti - the works! It really was going as planned when the magical blast rolled through.

Lock had been working on recreating some claw like marks on a local business’s door when the magic swept over him. The transformation hadn’t been painful. Just - weird. One second, he was looking at his gloved hands, the next, said hands were giant paws. His new, large head whipped around, ears sticking up towards…Shock?

SHOCK: Shock had been pumped for Halloween, since, well, since they’d moved in the first place. This was the first Halloween where the Adamsons wouldn’t already be pinned for trouble and mischief. In Swynlake, they had more anonymity than just the wolf masks. No one would know to trace back anything they did to the Adamsons. As of yet, none of them had done anything of note. Mommy and Daddy were so proud of them. Maybe this move really was good, they said.

Meanwhile, Lock and Shock and Barrel plotted.

It hadn’t been hard to choose werewolves as their victims. They were easy prey, ironically. Also, that one was a prissy rich boy who deserved to get knocked down a peg or ten. Shock hated everything about his smug face. He deserved to become a werewolf, in her opinion. He deserved to know how it felt to be mocked and ridiculed. Everyone did. It built character.

Though, it wasn’t anything personal, really. Werewolves were low-hanging fruit. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

Her fingers were black from spray paint and her boots muddy as they trudged from neighborhood to neighborhood, running all about town.

When the magic swept over them, she was standing look out, down aways from Town Hall while Lock fucked with the door to the antique shop. The music could be heard all the way down the street, even though the building itself was out of sight. She saw the magic, though, a few seconds before it washed over them.

“What the fu--”

And then, she was suddenly down on all fours.

“What the fuck?” she said, but her voice came out as a growl. She blinked over towards her brother, except her brother wasn’t her brother, but a wolf--black and hulking.

“Holy shit! Lock?!” She laughed once, but it came out like a bark.

LOCK: Lock matched her bark/laugh with his own at her. You had to be shitting him! No way! This was...this was too perfect. He walked around Shock - lighter and smaller than himself, he noted - tail flicking back and forth as his nose sniffed. Taking in all the enhanced scents around him. The paint smell still in the air. The sweet scent of candy close by. Even people, not far from them either .

A brilliant idea went off in his head as he looped back around his sister to stand beside her.

“You smell that?” He asked, raising his head back up in the air, his large nose inhaling again.

No wonder people were so scared of these things. They were natural born predators. Full with power Lock had never felt before. And he planned to make the most of it while this mishap lasted.

“Fresh meat,” He answered for her, turning his gaze down the street and he bared his teeth.

SHOCK: Shock wasn’t thinking about smells. She was still in the “holy shit I’m a wolf” phase of things. She had questions, you know? Was this permanent? What the fuck had just happened? She wasn’t necessarily worried about the answers, but she did want to know them.

Lock trotted around her. Somehow she could still read the smug-impressed-with-himself look on her brother’s face.

She tentatively copied him, lifting her snout to the sky, nostrils quivering.

And she did smell something that made her start to drool. Her tail wagged once, despite herself. It dropped down the next second but she turned towards the scent, all those people partying in Town Hall. Though it wasn’t just humans, she didn’t think so. There were too many smells for that to be the case. Had they been turned too?

“Man, Swynlake must be on our side tonight because this is how you pull a prank. Man, I love magic. Hey, how much damage you think we could do like this.” She pulled her lips back in a wolf-smile, sharp teeth glinting.

LOCK: Lock was someone who had learned to roll with the punches in life early on. Sure, he had questions, but at the moment, none of them mattered. All that mattered was all the scents and other changes to his senses hitting him all at once. And the power. The strength he felt in this body.

Fuck, he loved magic too if this is what it felt like.

“More than they’d like,” He growled, turning back to the door and jumping up onto his back paws to drag his claws across the wood with ease. He barked another life, starting to look around for more things to destroy. “We can keep up the little stuff ooooor -” He eyed the windows. “Do you want to go all out and break the windows like we’re looting the place too?”

SHOCK: Shock’s ears twitched (weird) at the sound of Lock’s claws against the door. It looked wicked cool, but the sound had sent shivers down her spine. Gross. Besides, breaking windows and scratching doors was kiddie stuff compared to what they could do as full on fucking wolves--with claws, like Lock had just demonstrated. And teeth, that they hadn’t demonstrated at all yet.

“Why would a werewolf want to loot somewhere?” Shock said, realizing the stupidity of what they’d been doing up to this point.

“Werewolves--they hunt.” Her eyes glinted yellow in the moon light and she felt the urge to lift her head back and howl. She was not going to do that. However, her tail did start wagging again, ever so slightly.

LOCK: Lock snorted, looking away from her. “Well, they fucked up that bar. I was just saying,”

He then looked back to her, noting her tail wag at the hunting comment. Now that - that was a good idea. But he wasn’t going to tell Shock that. He just sniffed the air once again, taking a step towards Town Hall. Looting and graffiti could wait for another day. Now was time to test out these teeth and see what these claws could really do.

“If we’re hunting, lets go before this wears off - if it ever does.”

SHOCK: It wasn’t werewolves who fucked up the Hunted Deer. Shock was almost certain of it. Though, whoever did it, she really wanted to give them a high-five, because it’d been brilliant from what she had heard.

There prank was going to be much better.

Nothing was more anonymous than nondescript wolves.

Shock didn’t acknowledge Lock’s good point. It had been her idea to get moving anyway. Instead, she just lept forward slightly so that Lock couldn’t gain any more ground on her. They were side by side as they slipped into the shadows, away from the lamp light. Gosh, wolves really could be silent as fuck, huh?

“Alright, who should we go after? Someone easy to spook. Like--teenage girls.” She grinned her wolfish grin again.

LOCK: The pair fell into step as they lurked through the shadows, the music from Town Hall making for an ominous backdrop. But who to go after? Anyone was easy pickings, to be honest. What could beat a werewolf after all?

Teenage girls? Honestly, the perfect targets. Not only were they easy to scare, they would also be sure to tell everyone what happened.

All this trouble to ruin the werewolves’ reputation even more would make one wonder if the Adamsons had anything personal against them. Not Lock, at least. He could give a shit, but right now, they were the easiest to fuck with. And maybe the most dangerous if these teeth set in his new jaw were anything to go by. Too bad for them they’d have no one to blame.

“Sounds good to me. Chase them around a bit, maybe corner them in a dead end and watch them cry until they pass out.”

SHOCK: Shock had asked her the other day when she was going to get friends her own age and Shock had just scoffed. See, the thing was: she didn’t really want friends. Friends were boring. No one knew how to roll with the punches like an Adamson. No one else would think about chasing teenage girls and sound excited about the prospect of terrifying them.

At least, no one she had met so far.

Which meant when it came down to it there were no better sidekicks than Thing 1 and Thing 2.

Not that she would ever say anythng like that.

Instead, she just laughed. “Oh, that’ll be soo good. Maybe we can make them piss themselves.”

As they drew closer, Shock slowed down slightly, hiding partially behind a building across the street from them. The door opened but it was a fucking tiger with a little kid. And while Shock had no problems fucking with a little kid, fucking with a tiger was a different story. She wasn’t an idiot.

She huffed and her tail flicked, already impatient.

LOCK: Lock stood with his sister, hidden in the darkness of the night. Yeah, the tiger and kid were definitely off limits. They would have to wait for someone else. Easier targets - teenage girls like they’d agreed upon. Hopefully they all hadn’t turned into Wonder Woman or something like that. Hopefully they’d gone with boring, typical costumes so they wouldn’t be a threat.

After a few minutes, impatience set in and he sat down, huffing through his new nose. “Come on, come on. We don’t have all night.”

Or did they? It was still a question lingering in the back of his mind. What if they were stuck like this? Was that actually a bad thing?

He didn’t like dwelling on these thoughts, and thankfully he didn’t have to for long. His ears perked up as the doors to Town Hall opened again and out walked....a scarecrow and the Mother of Dragons. Or, wait...Mei?

SHOCK: Shock wasn’t really thinking about whether or not they were stuck like this. From the stories she’d heard, this kind of shit just happened. The people who survived were the ones who rolled with the punches. Honestly, the Adamsons should’ve moved to this town years ago. It was built for them. Well, it was built for their demon-spawn children. Shock didn’t really know how Mommie Dearest and Wade would think about all this. Nor did she really care.

She was totally okay with this turn of events, even though, yeah, she was a little impatient too.

“Shut up,” she huffed at her brother’s own impatience, pretending as if she was above it all. Even if the anxious flick of her tail would give her away.

Still, they sat and waited as one or two more groups of people came and went.

And then--two slight looking young...girls. Sorta. One smelled like a barn, but Shock digressed. They were going to have to do.

“Perfect,” Shock said, standing up and prowling forward slightly. “We should go around the side of the building so we can cut them off when they turn down the street.” She started moving in that direction, silent on her new paws.

LOCK: “You shut up,” Lock growled back, deep and low in his voice. His impatience making Shock even more tiring than usual. But he kept his cool. Especially to not blow their cover with the two girls getting further from Town Hall.

He nodded, and followed along with her. Again, he wasn’t going to tell her it was a good idea. Had to see how it played out anyway. Or whatever. He just didn’t like to admit she had a good idea, ever. Even if she had her fair share of them.

“We could also split up,” He suggested, his tail wagging a little at the idea. “You chase them towards me, I chase them back your way. Lead them down a deadend - it’d be perfect.”

SHOCK: Splitting up was a good idea. Her wolf-instincts appreciated it. Circling the prey so that they could chase it into the perfect spot. However, her Shock-instincts were telling her not to let Lock know that he’d had a good idea.

“As long as I get first dibs,” Shock reasoned with a wolfish grin and then nipped at his shoulder playfully. “Get going. I’ll give you a few seconds head start so you’ve got time to get up the street. And stay out of sight until you hear them coming.”

Instructions given, Shock peeled off from her brother, trusting for him to be competent. She slunk into the shadows, waiting for the girls to get close enough. She could hear the scuffle of their shoes easily. Their voices too. When they passed her hiding spot, she started walking behind them.

When the blonde turned around, she ducked out of the light of a street lamp.

“Did you--see that?” the girl asked her companion.

Shock let out a low, menacing growl.

LOCK: Lock gave another huff at her and her nip, pulling away from her. But he nodded, and made his way down the street, staying behind the buildings and out of sight. He parked himself just at the end of the street, already eyeing a couple of good deadend alleys on his way there.

Now, he waits.

The redheaded scarecrow turned to look at the other, confused at first. Then she heard the growl. “Did you hear that?” She asked, whipping around, straw falling from under her hat around her as she trembled. “Maybe we should go back…”

SHOCK: This was too easy.

“Turn back? No. Let whoever it is come out and face me! I am the Mother of Drago--”

Shock stepped into the light and the girl shut her annoying face. That was better. There was a cloying smell in the air that hadn’t been there a moment ago. What was it? It made Shock want to lick her lips with hunger.

“Go away, wolf!” the girl commanded, but Shock just prowled closer, growling, growling.

“Stop!”

Shock sped up almost trotting along the sidewalk now.

When she was a few feet away, she lept forward on her powerful haunches. The taller girl let out a shriek and stumbled backwards, grabbing on to the other girl as Shock landed right in front of her. She lunged and grabbed the girl’s dress in her teeth, tearing the hem with a snarl.

LOCK: Lock could already hear the shouts from down the street. He gave another bark of a laugh, drowned out by the terror of the two girls in the air. He stood up on all fours, peeking out and getting very excited for the upcoming chase. His tail even wagged.

“That’s a werewolf!” The scarecrow shrieked. An animal didn’t move like that. Or seem to grin at the fear coming off the two girls. Straw fell from her body as her friend used her to stay up. But she fell back herself, her hat dropping off and more straw surrounding her as the wolf pounced. “Mei!”

Now was the worst time to become a scarecrow. Well, no time was the best it seemed - but now was definitely the worst!

SHOCK: The stupid cloth of the dress didn’t taste very good, but it was worth it for the shrieks of the two girls (well, girl and scarecrow, if we’re being particular.) Those shrieks were better than tooth-rotting candy. Her black lips pulled back in a smile, even as she shook her head, jerking the fabric back and forth.

“Unhand me you fiend!” shrieked the blonde bitch.

What the fuck was this? A Song of Ice and Fire book? (Yes, Shock had read those books, obviously. When you’re stuck in a hospital bed, books are your best friends.) Not that it mattered. Even if whoever this girl was had somehow morphed into Daenerys Stormborn herself, she could still be bitten. Shock wasn’t made of fire.

“Run! RUN!” The girl squealed, grabbing on to her useless straw friend.

Shock’s head jerked, but the piece of dress in her teeth ripped. The girls took off down the street. Right towards Lock. Shock spit out the fabric and gave the girls a meter headstart before springing forward again, her paws near silent as she chased them over the cobbles.

“Faster!” shrieked the Daenerys-wanna-be.

LOCK: The scarecrow struggled to follow as their companion pulled them down the street, leaving a trail of straw behind her but it was long forgotten now. She was letting out her own shouts for help, but no one was coming.

No one other than Lock, and he certainly wasn’t there to help.

He stepped out from his hiding spot just as silent as Shock had, blocking off the rest of the street. He threw his head back and let out a howl before lunging at them, and growling as he landed a mere couple of feet from them.

His appearance and howl had made the scarecrow come to a halt, and clinging to the white haired girl. “If you got dragons, now would be a great time to call for them!” She said, then looked around for any other escape.

An alley! Without a second thought, she tugged on the other’s arm to pull them away from the wolf and hopefully to safety.

“This way!”

Lock was quick to follow though, keeping pace behind them.

SHOCK: God, that howl. Lock could be so dramatic sometimes. He’d deny it, but really, when it came down to, there was no denying it. She would roll her eyes if she could. Could wolves roll their eyes? She didn’t exactly know and wasn’t going to care enough to figure it out just to be annoying to her brother. No, they had a mission.

So, she loped forwards, the humans too slow for her to really run full speed to catch up with them. Kind of sucked, because she wanted to stretch her legs and all these powerful muscles. Honestly, why were people worried about becoming werewolves? This was excellent.

By the time Lock was turning down the alley, she was at his side, trotting in sync with him. Their coats shimmered silver-black in the moonlight, glinting like knives. A fitting comparison, considering that they were weapons in these skins.

“If I knew where my dragons were, they would be here!” Daenerys screeched.

The girls hit the chained linked fence.

“We’re trapped!” the blonde lamented.

Shock snarled and growled.

The girl lifted her chin. “Halt!” she commanded. “You will pay for this if you take one step closer!”

Shock didn’t just take one step closer, she took several, close enough to snap at the finger that the girl had pointed her. The girl shrieked and tripped backwards.

LOCK: Cornered in a back alley? It was the perfect position for them. And not unfamiliar territory for Lock. SoCal had a tendency to get rather ugly the further south you went from the City of Angels. Even though it was Mei he had cornered, his eyes still glinted with excitement at the damage they were causing.

To their mental states. To the werewolves’ reputation. This was shaping up to be the best Halloween ever.

Until Shock got too close with her teeth. Lock growled, though it wasn’t directed at the girls. “Shock, too cl -”

“Get lost!” The scarecrow called, actually taking off her boot (revealing tied off bottoms of her overalls to prevent more straw falling out) and tossing it right at the closest wolf’s head as she limped in front of the other girl. “You’re barking up the wrong tree!”

SHOCK: Shock wasn’t paying attention.

Not to the scarecrow. Not, even, to her brother’s hesitance. She was having too much fun. You could say the bloodlust was upon her. If she was human, she’d be wearing a manic grin, her eyes glinting. She’d look partially insane. And, hey, maybe she was! All those chemicals couldn’t have been good for a kid.

All she wanted was more screams. If she was a sorcerer, she’d bottle them up in jars and keep them on her windowsill like little trophies. If she was a demon, she’d be one of those ones that sucked the fear from people and was able to sustain herself on just that and that alone.

As a wolf, she wanted to taste blood.

Just one little bite.

The boot colliding with her head was barely felt. She was very much focused on the actual human. The one with sweat she could smell, sweet as candy.

She sure was pretty when she cried.

Shock snarled again and jumped forward. Not close enough to actually reach, but close enough to make the girl squeal like a pig and the chain-link fence behind them jingle like Christmas bells.

LOCK: Lock hadn’t even registered he’d moved when he slammed Shock into the wall with his own body, a deep growl vibrating from within. He was faster than his own thoughts it seemed.

Causing fear and making them cry was one thing, but the way his sister’s teeth clamped down on the air in front of Mei told him the fun was over. Sure, a bite or any physical attack would work wonders for destroying the werewolves’ already terrible reputation. It’d be like a nuke - none of them would be able to stay in town after that.

But it was too risky. Leaving mental scars, they couldn’t be linked back to those in disguise. But physical - then you’re talking DNA and all sorts of technicalities he didn’t know too much about. He hadn’t been careful this whole time to have Shannon ruin things.

“Save the teeth for a second date,” He snarled. “Don’t ruin this.”

SHOCK: Shock’s wolf yelped as she was body slammed into the brick of the alley. Immediately, she whirled on her brother, the growl ripping out of her throat one of warning. Her prey was forgotten in light of her confusion. The instinct in her screaming to hunt now compromised by her brother’s cockblocking.

“What the fuck?” she snarled at him, her ears laying flat on her ead.

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole. I think they’ll survive a stupid little bite. Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”

With a shake of her head, she turned back to the girl and the scarecrow, who were watching with round eyes (well, naturally, for the stupid fucking scarecrow.) She didn’t hesitate this time (hadn’t hesitated before, just for the record) when she lunged at the blonde. Now, this time, she was actually intent on drawing blood, if only to give Lock a fucking lesson.

LOCK: Shock was really testing him.

And Lock’s patience was at its breaking point.

As she lunged, he did as well, but at her once more. He bit down on her back leg, not really caring if he hurt her, and attempted to hold her back. Even drag her away. His eyes momentarily darted up to the two girls, and he let out a low growl as he held onto his sister. The noise made the scarecrow jump, but she grabbed her boot and looked at her friend.

“Now’s our chance!” She said, looking around before spotting a small hole in the corner of the fence. “There!”

They were taking too long. And Shock was strong as well, he wasn’t sure he could keep her back much longer.

SHOCK: Shock felt teeth clamp down on her leg and she was yanked backwards, her claws scrambling against the concrete as she tried to bite and snap at the girls.

“Lock! Fucking let go of me! They’re getting away!”

She lifted up her back feet to try to kick him in the face or the chest, but he wasn’t letting go. Her hits were clumsy at best, not used to this body. Seeing the girls squeezing themselves through the fence, Shock gave it up for a lost cause. Instead, she whirled on her brother, yanking her too from his mouth as she turned.

With a snarl, she jumped at him, colliding with his chest, her teeth going to his ear and biting hard, while her forepaws pressed against his neck and chest. If she was paying attention, she’d see the little blonde stop and look at them once she was safely on the other side of the fence, before her friend tugged her along.

LOCK: Lock let out another growl, this one directed at Shock as she jumped on him, his mouth tinged a slight red from his bite. When his sister bit down on him as payback, he gave a little yelp before it transformed into a snarl. His front paws shot up at her face, his teeth bared and ready to take another bite.

“Stop being a fuckin’ idiot for once!” He snapped, shoving at her now as well with his back paws with as much force as he could manage. “Get off me while you’re at it!”

He snapped his powerful jaw at her as he continued to push. He also wasn’t paying attention to the girls anymore. They accomplished their plan, and now it was over. Let them run for all he cared.

#bdrplock #bdrpmei #bdrpariel #shanius #shei #electric eel #idiot number one #nightmare on main street #C HA O S #big shout to ginny for being GREAT #i feel at my Full Potential #love the adamsons #y'all aint ready

3 notes · View notes

lailannajacobs · 5 years

Text

Just Dumb Luck pt. 6

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You have your next double date.

A/N: I’m in the middle of killer finals guys so that’s why this update took a little longer and the next one will probably be another two weeks too but after the 11th you guys should get more frequent updates! I hope you enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated and requests are welcome!

For someone who said he didn’t like texting, Loki had answered as soon as you had let him know when your next date would be. You had been disappointed when Amelie had suggested Saturday because you had hoped to get to see Loki earlier than that but your disappointed hadn’t lasted long. He had texted back, asking when you got off work and all week (except Tuesday of course) you took turns walking each other home. On the Monday you had felt a little uncertain knowing that the last time you had seen him things had gotten pretty personal but as soon as you saw that wolfish smirk of his, that worry disappeared.

You talked about everything from your fake relationship to the pain Brian’s marketing job was causing you to stupid things like what your reaction would be if you figured out there were actually other realms. Every once in a while, even though he didn’t share much about himself, you would catch glimpses into his life. Sometimes they were small things like mentions of the stupidities he did with his brother and other times it would be bigger things like the look on his face when he mentioned his mother that told you just how much she meant to him. No matter what you talked about, you had never realized how short your commute could be.

You look around for Loki. You’re early for you’re date, which, if you’re being honest, has never happened before. You’re always late. You decide to take the time to try and brainstorm ideas for your meeting with Brian on Monday. He’s shot down everything you showed him during the past week and you don’t know if it’s because he’s being petty or if it’s because you’re ideas actually are kinda shitty. Your deadline is the end of the month and after almost two weeks of working on his project, you’re nowhere near a result that will land you that promotion. You don’t want to let yourself get discouraged though, you’re going to get this done and get it done right, you have to.

You’re typing furiously, caught in an idea, when you sense someone standing in front of you. Even absorbed in your work, it isn’t hard for you to know who it is. You recognize the subtle sent of his cologne and the dark suit in the corner of your vision.

“Gimme a second.” You say, without bothering to look up.

You’ve lost any sort of formality you might have had with him before hand and he waits in easy silence for you to finish your train of thought. When you put your phone away, you shake your head with a little laugh.

“No matter the occasion you’re in a suit aren’t you? I’m curious to see what you’d look like out of it.”

He raises a brow, “You’d like to see me out of it?”

You feel your cheeks heat, and you swat his arm, “Out of it and into something else. You know what I meant.”

“I’m only getting into character love.” He slides his hands into his pockets.

You roll your eyes. “Save it for when they get here.”

He smirks.

You look around the stadium entrance for Brian and Amelie, knowing it’s not like Brian to be late. He always hated it when you would arrive in a flurry with some story to explain why you were late. It always made him grumpy for the rest of the evening.

You turn your attention back to Loki. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you actually like baseball or not.”

“Not particularly.” He shrugs. “I don’t quite understand it.”

“I think that might be because the suit is stopping you from enjoying the experience completely.” You tease. “Or you just haven’t gone with the right person yet.”

You want to take the words back as soon as they’re out of your mouth. They’re too close to the real kind of flirting you do when you’re actually interested in a guy.

“Getting into character as well I see,” he says, the words reassuring and disappointing you at the same time, “are you saying that I should be wearing something like that?” He gestures to the Yankees cap and jersey you’re wearing.

“Yes.” you nod enthusiastically, “you have no choice but to show some pride when the Red Sox are playing.”

He looks at you with a funny little look on his face, “is that the team you’re taking for?”

You take a step back with a hand to your chest, “oh god, you know nothing about baseball. Okay that’s fine, it’s all good, it’s okay. Just know we’re taking for the Yankees. The team in blue. It’ll be fine.”

“I had figured they were in blue.” He says.

“And yet when I said Red Sox it didn’t clue you in?”

He lifts a brow, his lips in a straight line, sass emanating from him.

You laugh, “Okay okay! I’ll explain some of rules along the way but as long as you can pretend to be a boyfriend who shares my love of baseball we’ll be fine.”

“That I can do.” he lifts your cap from your head and places it on his own. “And, how does it look?”

You bite your lip to hold back from laughing, “Um, would you like me to lie?”

“No.”

“It’s strange.”

“Good. Being here feels a little strange.”

Before he can take it off, you hear Amelie’s giggly hello. Your eyes snap up to Loki’s and he gives you a little wink before you spin around, his arm sliding around your shoulders.

“Hi Amelie! How are you?” You give her shoulder a little squeeze.

“Oh I’m good! I’ve been looking forward to this double date all week! I just felt like we really clicked last time, didn’t we?” She pushes her hair behind her ears.

Your head bobs up and down, “I totally agree. I only wished we had met sooner.”

She takes your hand, her big blue eyes looking up into yours with pure kindness. “Oh my god same.” The smile on your face feels less forced and you can’t help but like Amelie. Just a little.

“Brian. Nice to see you again,” Loki drawls, “How are things at work?”

Brian shoots a look in your direction before answering. “Good.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence. You feel Loki’s fingers drumming along your bicep and you snuggle in a little closer, just for good measure.

You break the silence. “Shall we?”

Brian motions for you to lead the way and Amelie pops up on your other side, “I hope you two haven’t been waiting long! My mother called right before we were supposed to leave and, not that she’s in trouble or anything, but she’s getting up there you know and…” She keeps chatting but you don’t really hear the words she’s saying.

You figure as long as you nod and make the right expressions at the right time, she won’t know the difference. You enter the stadium and there are so many people, it’s getting hard to weave through the crowd but Loki’s arm remains steady around your shoulder. You doubt a random stranger could separate the two of you even if they tried.

“So basically, my mother is the biggest chatterbox on the planet and that’s why we’re late.” Amelie concludes. “You should have seen Brian though, he was so worried about being on time! It was adorable!”

Amelie grins at Brian, her tiny nose crinkling in a pretty adorable way. He returns it but you know its only halfhearted. You’ve been on the receiving end of that smile too many times not to know it.

“Amelie, are you as big of a baseball fan as (y/n)?” Loki asks, turning his intense, green eyed stare on her.

She blushes, “oh, well, um, I don’t know about that…I do love it though! When I was a little girl..” She spouts off into another story.

Loki is nodding as if its the most interesting thing he’s ever heard in his life and the more questions he asks her, the tighter Brian’s grip around Amelie gets. At one point he pulls her so close, she looks a little startled.

When you break through the crowd to your section of the stadium, Loki dips his head, his breath tickling your ear, “If I leave you for a bit, will you be able to survive her incessant chattering?”

You turn your head, and place your hand on his chest, “Don’t be so dramatic.” you whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

He shoots you a sly grin before excusing himself and heading off in the opposite direction you came from.

“You two are just adorable.” Amelie gushes.

You notice she had just seen the whole exchange but thankfully it seems like she didn’t hear anything. “Thanks… I’m so glad I met him…he’s just…different. I feel like I can be completely myself around him, you know? Competitive side and all.”

She nods, believing every word of your act. A part of you wonders if the words actually are an act. They didn’t quite feel like one. You tell yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. You and Loki are friends now and it’s perfectly acceptable to be glad you met a friend.

She takes your hand. “How did you meet?”

You give her hand a squeeze. “You should ask Loki. He’s so much better at telling that story than I am.”

“Should we wait for him?” She looks around for your supposed boyfriend, “or do we find our seats?”

You shrug, “we can head to our seats, I’m sure he’ll be able to find us.”

“Are you sure?” Brian sneers.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s a grown man. He’s very good at finding his way around.” You send him a peachy smile and head down the stairs towards your seat.

You’re thankful that Amelie begs to sit beside you so that you don’t have to try and make small talk with Brian while waiting for Loki to come back. Where he went, you have no clue and you only hope that you were right about him being able to find his way back. The stadium is pretty packed, people filling in from everywhere with their beers and hot dogs. The rival energy is palpable and you let yourself smile for real for the first time on this awkward double date. You’re pretty sure the only person who doesn’t think this is awkward is Amelie.

“So do you think maybe you should go find your boyfriend?” Brian spits out the word boyfriend like it leaves a disgusting taste in his mouth.

“I don’t think she would have to look very far.”

You can’t believe what you’re seeing. Instead of the jacket, he’s wearing a jersey similar to yours, your cap is still on his head and he’s holding four beers. You’ve never seen him look so…you don’t know if the word is average or out of place. Either way, you can’t help the grin on your face.

You don’t know if you want to tease him or thank him for putting in so much effort. You do know that the pure hatred you see on Brian’s face when Loki hands him his beer is priceless especially when Amelie turns to him and says, “isn’t that sweet of him?”

For a second, you wonder if there’s a pointed message to her words. Just the fact that you’re asking yourself that question makes you realize how perfect Loki is playing this.

Loki hands you the beer and takes a seat beside you, his arm draping over your shoulder once again. You’re extremely aware that whenever you’re with Brian, some part of him is always touching you and judging by the look on Brian’s face, he’s well aware too. There’s no mistaking who’s date you are.

“Do I look the part now?” Loki whispers.

You can’t help but laugh, “yes, but I think I preferred the suit.”

He brushes the hair away from your neck, sending shivers down your spine, “So do I. But I must admit, it might only be because the jersey looks much better on you than it does on me.”

You’re aware that Amelie is trying her hardest not to look like she’s paying attention, so you decide to lean into the whole act. You lock onto his gaze, your fingers dancing along his chest, “Might? You should just admit that I look better in your clothes than you do.”

He chuckles, “you have no idea.”

His green eyes are bright, dancing with mischief as if he knows something you don’t. You love that look. You’ve only seen it a few times but you know every time you do, you know you got him. The real him. It’s exhilarating and brings out your competitive side every time.

“So how has it been getting to work with Brian?” Amelie snaps you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from Loki.

“Oh you know Brian, I’ve never met anyone pickier about his work than he is” you laugh, “but all in all, everything is going well.”

Amelie giggles, “It’s like his baby.”

On the other side of Amelie, Brian refuses to comment or even look at you. You know he’s fuming and, as you notice Amelie glance from Loki’s fingers aimlessly drumming along your shoulder to her boyfriend, you can only guess that she’s probably wondering why he’s sitting there with his arms crossed.

“How long until the game begins?” Loki asks, his lips spreading into his sly smirk.

You place your hand on his thigh, “Not long. Here’s what you need to know…”

“So what do you think?” You ask, somewhere around the fifth inning.

The first half of the game went by in a blur. Loki had picked up the rules pretty quickly and although he hadn’t been as enthusiastic as you, Amelie had gotten right up beside you, shouting at the players regardless of the fact that they couldn’t hear either of you. You had been surprised by how loudly a girl her size could shout. You knew it was supposed to be a double date but when you weren’t absorbed in the game, you spent most of your time only chatting with Loki.

He stays silent for a moment, considering his answer and shrugs, “It’s not as terrible as I imaged it would be.”

“What a stellar review.” You roll your eyes.

Loki’s about to defend himself when Amelie smacks your arm excitedly. “look (y/n), the Kiss Cam is on!”

You lean back into your seat and smile, nestled under Loki’s arm. The Kiss Cam never gets old. As cheesy as it makes you, you’ve always enjoyed this part of bring at the game. A seventy some year old couple, decked out in Yankees gear from head to toe, smile lovingly at one another and share a peck on the lips before the camera pans to a young couple waving their arms excitedly, reading for their on screen moment.

Amelie sighs, “aren’t they just the cutest!”

You nod, trying to mimic her enthusiasm.

“What’s going on?” Loki whispers in your ear.

You smirk and take your eyes off of the jumbotron, “the cameras go around zooming in on two people and when they do, those people have to kiss.”

He looks up at the new couple being filmed. “And the point is?”

“I don’t know…to share the love? It’s fun and all you have to do is watch.” You can’t help but be amused by his confusion.

“And if you and I are on that screen?”

You whip your attention to the screen and see yourself alongside Loki, who’s wearing his signature wolfish grin. Your wide eyes are obvious to everyone in the stadium, which only makes the camera man stay on you two longer than he normally would have. You can hear the crowd chanting for you to kiss because it’s taking so long and you feel Amelie poke you a few times.

“Is this part of the deal?” Loki’s green eyes are serious, waiting for you to make the final decision.

If you don’t kiss him, you’ll have to find some sort of excuse as to why you didn’t want to kiss your boyfriend. But do you want to kiss him? If you’re being honest, you’ve been wondering what it would be like for the past couple weeks. It’s only a kiss, you tell yourself, it won’t change anything between the two of you.

You dip your head slightly so that no one else knows you just answered his question and his hand moves to cup your face as he leans in. His lips are soft on yours, tentative, almost as if he’s afraid you’re going to pull away but when you slip your hand up his chest, his hand moves to the back of your neck pulling you closer.

The kiss doesn’t last long and he pulls away, his lips curled into a grin. You’re breathless. It couldn’t have been longer than a couple seconds but your heart is pounding in your chest. The look in his eyes tells you he knows that. You want to wipe that look off his face so that you’re the one wearing that expression but you bite your lip instead. A part of you wants to pull him back and kiss him again, deeper and longer - forget the rest of the stadium watching - but another part, the part that doesn’t want you to get hurt, keeps you rooted to your seat. You can’t admit that you liked the kiss more than you should have. It wouldn’t mean anything good if you did. You paste a winning smile onto your face. There’s nothing else to it. You’re both just playing the game. And judging by Amelie’s happy little squealing, you’re both pretty good at it.

The arm wrapped around your shoulders pulls back so that his fingers brush along the nape of your neck and he removes all physical contact. He leans closer, making sure that nothing but his breath touches you, and murmurs “so (y/n)? Does this mean we’re winning?”

Part 7

Tags:

@lokixme @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @crescent-night @wrappedinlokisarms @lemonie2 @fuckthatfeeling @thatkidofwarandpeace @ihavenofilter @jessiejunebug @tony-sassmaster-stark @bbcsassdeadass @perceptorxbrainstorm @harrymewmew @casualminiaturetimemachine @artsymeadow

#loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #loki imagine #fan fiction #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #MCU fanfiction

189 notes · View notes

thejollyroger-writer · 6 years

Text

Captains & Corsets - A Cocktoberfest Fic

A/n: This story started out as something completely different, not even for this event, and then my muse told me that this was supposed to be my Cocktober story, and not the other one I had planned. It seemed to all work out in the end, though. Special thanks to the @cscocktoberfest mods of this event, and to my excellent beta, @littlescorpion -- your attention to detail inspires me, and this fic would not be the same without you!

Summary: Emma Swan is the manager of Belle's bookstore, helping at the last minute for a Halloween party where her only costume choices involved corsets. Captain Killian Jones has moved to America, having lost everything in England he cares about and has returned to the care of a good friend. Neither of them may be searching for a relationship, but that doesn't mean that they won't hit it off, in more ways than one.

Rated E - it’s cocktober, guys.

Read on AO3!

“You can’t be serious, Rubes,” Emma sighs, trying to pull Ruby’s tank-top up to cover at least a little of her chest. “I don’t know why I ever thought that any of your costumes would be… appropriate.” She lifts her eyes to meet her best friend’s through the mirror.

“Come on, Ems, you should know better than that.” Of all the times Emma has described her best friend’s smile as ‘wolfish,’ none of them described it just as well as right now, standing behind Emma in her little red riding hood costume. Or, what Ruby describes as a costume, but really turns out to be a bring red corset, black shorts, and a red velvet cape with a hood.

“You know this is a costume party at a bookstore and not a night at the world’s sluttiest club, right?”

“So what?”

Emma looks over herself in the mirror again, already embarrassed to be seen in Ruby’s rendition of “Robin Hood”: a green corset-slash-tank top with high-waisted khaki shorts, black knee-high boots, and a little green pointed hat, not to mention the hip quiver and longbow slung over her shoulder.

“I can’t go in this!” Emma finally tears her eyes away from her reflection and whips around to face her best friend, whose smile and eyes only widen seeing the front of her not through the mirror. “

Why not? You look excellent.”

“Ruby! I am the manager of the store, I can’t show up in a corset!” Ruby waves her hand between them, then rolls her eyes and turns back to her closet. “Fine, fine. I have…” She pages through the hangers, looking for something that might be more appropriate. Holding up a skirt that can’t be more than six inches long, Emma shakes her head again. “Since you’re the manager, why didn’t you find a costume before the night of this Halloween party ? ” Ruby pops her head out of the closet at the last bit of her question, accentuating her words with a raise of her eyebrows. Emma rolls her eyes before Ruby steps back into the closet.

“For your information, I was actually not supposed to even be at this party, so I didn’t think I was going to need a costume until this morning when Belle went into labor.”

“Fine, fine! But you can’t come to me for last-minute help and then berate me for my belongings.” Emma opens her mouth to speak, but before anything comes out, Ruby’s hand flies out of the closet, tossing something at her: a pair of pants. No, a pair of red leather pants , with laces in place of the regular zipper…

“Come on, ” Emma whines, but Ruby stops her again. “I feel like you’re trying to make sure I get laid tonight.”

“Listen, would getting some really be half bad? How long has it been since Neal left, anyway?”

Ruby gives Emma an opportunity to answer, but she stays silent. Too long .

When Emma’s eyes fall to the floor, Ruby leaves the subject untouched. “And I have closets full of shorts and skirts, and those are just about the only pants I own, unless you want the white pair?”

“No! No, these are… these are fine. But what costume are they a part of?” Pulling off her jeans, she begins the shimmy into the leather, and when Ruby pulls the rest of the costume out of the closet, Emma is surprised she missed it her first (and second) time through the closet: a black off-the-shoulder flowing shirt with a black and red corseted vest.

“I’ve had this pirate costume since college, and I don’t think I’ve worn it in just as long.” Emma pulls her t-shirt over her head, and Ruby hands her the black shirt, which falls perfectly off her shoulders (and reveals that damned swan tattoo on her shoulder, an alcohol-driven reclamation of the last name of her first foster family, but it’s the least of Emma’s worries for tonight), and as much as she hates to admit it, the corset cinched around her waist actually doesn’t look half-bad.

She’s almost looking forward to wearing it in public, getting laid or not. Especially once Ruby hands her the prop sword, though she thinks she might go without the hat.

She is most definitely not getting laid tonight, especially since she knows everyone in town. Tonight might not be nearly as bad as she originally expected it to be.

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

“How in the seven hells did I let you talk me into this, Nolan?” Killian asks, eyeing his best friend out of the corner of his eye, finishing the bottle of beer in his hand.

Dave turns to face his old captain, a man he hadn't seen for almost ten years, the best friend from his younger years that showed up on his porch the day before, all of his belongings in a backpack slung over his shoulder and looking exactly as Dave had remembered, minus the twinge of reddish-grey in his dark hair and beard and the prosthetic left hand, the injury that sent him home the last time David saw him. “You're the one who showed up decked out in that pirate costume, when I was all ready to just come as myself.”

Killian turns to face him, one eyebrow raised high on his forehead. “We both know that your wife would not have allowed that, mate.” He follows Dave's eyes across the room, where he finds Dave's wife holding a tray of caramel apples — some of which Killian even helped her make the night before. Mary Margaret must feel their eyes on her, and she turns towards them with a wave and a warm smile.

“You're right, Jones,” Dave says, his eyes still set on his wife, even after she's turned away from them. “And that's why I'm here now, dressed in this Popeye costume, which I thought was outrageous until I saw yours.”

“Just admit it, Nolan. You're jealous of how dashingly handsome of a pirate I make.” As if to prove his point, he straightens the collar of his jacket, then runs his prosthetic hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead, a salacious grin spread across his face.

Of course, he's right. Dave is not an idiot and has never failed to recognize that his friend is beyond just handsome , but for some reason, the pirate costume accentuates all of his best features: the collar of his jacket parallels his sharp jawbone, and with the top few buttons of his shirt undone, lined up with the V of his vest, the sharp lines call the eyes down the muscles of his neck to where his dark chest hair just becomes visible. Not to mention his dark leather pants, which are tighter than Dave would ever feel comfortable wearing in public.

Seeing just how much lighter Killian's beard and hair has become, Dave thinks of a phrase Emma had brought up a few weeks ago and realizes that it describes his friend perfectly: a silver fox. Killian Jones has become a silver fox.

“Want another?” Dave asks, taking the empty bottle from Killian's good hand before he can answer.

“Please, mate,” Killian answers, pushing himself off the wall they were holding up. “But let me come with you.”

It’s only been two days since Killian packed everything he didn't sell into a backpack and hopped on a plane, finding himself at David Nolan's door just the morning before in Storybrooke, Maine, and in those two days, he's met a good handful of people; but that in no way means he feels comfortable enough to be left alone at a party.

He follows Dave across the small bookstore to where they have temporarily converted the coffee shop to a small bar. Ordering them two more beers and adding them to his tab for the evening, he notices the tall brunette bartender dressed as what Killian believes to be Little Red Riding Hood, though he's never seen a rendition of a children's story character that utilizes a corset, and she smiles across the counter at him.

“Who’s your friend, David?” she purrs, making sure her fingers brush Killian's as she hands him his bottle.

Dave can't help but roll his eyes at the tone of her voice, but he still answers her question, introducing her to Killian—and noticing that Ruby's hand stays in his longer than necessary as she introduces herself.

“Well, thanks, Rubes,” Dave says bluntly, turning away from the bar and hoping that Killian follows as he walks away. Searching the crowd for his wife, Dave heads in her direction, hearing the clicking of the heels on Killian's boots behind him.

Mary Margaret’s eyes light up as she watches her husband approach her, and Killian can't help the smile that flashes across his face when he sees this, the obvious love that the two of them share. Something that he thought he had, until she changed her mind.

But that’s part of what he came here to forget.

“Emma and Belle did such an excellent job putting this whole thing together, didn't they?” Her smile grows with her question, scrunching up the tip of her nose, and Dave leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Definitely,” Dave replies, but Killian's mind is elsewhere.

“When will I get to meet this sister of yours, Dave?”

Killian's been hearing about Emma for almost as long as he's known David, remembers when he had to leave the base right after their graduation because she showed up in Storybrooke again after running away from their foster home years before. He's seen pictures of her, the ones Dave brought with him on their tours together, and then the newer ones that he has around his house now. The pictures showed him the most beautiful blonde woman he has ever seen, though he's never had the opportunity to meet her in person.

Until today.

“Actually, she's right here!” Mary Margaret waves her hand to grab her attention from across the room, and Killian watches in awe as the crowd parts to reveal her to him. He knows it’s an absolutely cheesy cliche, but damn if she is a million times more beautiful than the pictures that truly do her no justice. She is a goddess on land, the most ethereal angel he has ever seen, dressed as, of all things, a goddamned pirate , in sinfully tight, bright red leather pants with a corseted vest over a black off-the-shoulder shirt, a costume comparable to his own.

As soon as she locks eyes with him, after smiling at her brother and his wife, neither of them break away from the stare. Her eyes widen at first, seeing him for the first time, then narrow as she takes him in approaching him. The moments it takes her to cross the room stretch into hours, watching her watch him, and the corner of his lips pulls up into a half-smile when she stops in front of them. David wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer into the circle.

“Ems, this is Captain Killian Jones, a good friend of mine from the Navy.” She smiles at him, a wide smile that he can swear physically radiates light.

“Captain Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you after all this time.”

A smile spreading across his face, Killian holds his hand out towards her. “Darling, please call me Killian. And I assure you, the pleasure truly is all mine.”

Taking his hand, she expects his to shake it, but instead, he pulls it to his lips, pressing them against her knuckles, a motion that causes her entire face to redden, a blush that brightens her jade eyes, and he is surprised to feel a warmth to stir in his chest.

Emma, on the other hand, has possibly never been more turned on in her life.

To say that she is attracted to Captain Jones is the understatement of the century, an understatement that grows larger when she notices the brightness of his eyes, a shade of cobalt blue that shouldn’t be possible on a living, breathing human. She’s never been one to have a thing for older men, but there’s something about the man standing before her, a mixture of the patches of silver in his hair and the bright red vest that reveals dark hair that she can only imagine trails down his entire body, that intrigues her in a way she has never been intrigued before, starts a fire in her chest that travels down her body and settles behind her stomach.

Fuck, she doesn’t want to admit that Ruby may have been right, but for what seems like the first time ever, she’s actually hoping that Ruby’s joke about getting laid from earlier becomes a reality.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches her brother roll his eyes, a motion that reminds her that her brother is standing right next to her , makes his arm slung over her shoulder suddenly weigh her down.

Pull yourself together, damnit.

“You did an excellent job putting this whole thing together, Emma,” Mary Margaret says finally, breaking the moment of silence that took over the group, and Emma finally tears her eyes away from his, turning instead to her sister-in-law.

“Thank you, really, but most of it was Belle. She planned everything, bought all the decorations, everything. I wasn’t even going to be here until she went into labor this morning.”

“Well, then it really is my lucky day, isn’t it?” Killian’s not sure what brings him to say it, and until David turns towards him, he’s not entirely sure he’s said it out loud.

Emma blushes again, and it does incredible things to him, stirring heat in parts of him that he wasn’t sure still worked. Thankfully, before he can say anything else just as embarrassing, someone across the room calls Emma, taking her attention from them for just long enough for David to reach out and hit his shoulder with the back of his hand.

When Emma turns back towards them, she says, “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” before smiling at them weakly and turning away.

Once Dave hopes she is far enough out of earshot, he turns to his friend. “I understand you have an inherent need to flirt with everyone, Jones, but does that have to include my sister?”

Killian flashes the same smile at David that he usually saves for the best of his conquests, which only causes him to roll his eyes.

“Okay, fine,” David concedes before Killian even gets the chance to respond. “Just… try not to do it where I can see you, okay? That’s just—it’s just weird.”

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

Killian watches the party from afar, switching at some point from beer to rum, and after spending some time browsing the bookshelves in the small store, he decides on a rather sizable thriller that he remembers someone recommending to him—a book that he fully intends on purchasing before he leaves, especially after the condensation from his glass drips down onto one of the pages. Not paying for it would, of course, be bad form.

Every once in a while, he turns his eyes back to the room around him, most of which he can see from the seat he has chosen, and he usually finds David or Mary Margaret looking towards him, sometimes with rather somber expressions, sometimes smiling when he meets their eyes, but always leaving him alone.

A good book is exactly what he needs right now, after the year he’s had. After Milah leaving him, deciding nine months ago to go back to her husband and “give him another try,” that bloody bastard. Where was her husband for the four years they were together?

And losing Milah hurt him, but not nearly as much as it hurt when he got the call from the police… damn, was it already a week ago? After his stint in the Royal Navy, shorter than Killian’s time in the American military, Liam turned to the police force, a decision that ended up being the one that took his life fifteen years later.

It was at Liam’s funeral two days later that Killian realized everything that he had returned to England for—namely his brother, but finding Milah along the way hadn’t hurt until the end—was gone. Liam was the only tie back to reality that Killian had.

So he sold everything he had, packed what was he needed into his backpack, and bought a ticket to America, thankful that he and David had kept correspondence since his injuries sent him home from deployment, including Christmas cards from Dave’s lovely wife that included his address.

Realizing that his eyes stopped taking the words in, Killian pulls his thoughts back to the pages in front of him, blinking the glaze away from his eyes. It works for another few pages, until he realizes that his thoughts have floated off the page and back to his brother once again.

Damn him.

Killian finishes the rest of the rum in his glass in a quick mouthful, then pushes himself away from the table, noting his page in the book before he closes it. Finding his way back to the bar, the one part of the room he cannot see from the table, the brunette bartender flashes him another smile when she passes the glass back to him over the bar.

“Thank you, love,” he drawls, smiling back at her before taking the first sip, and lets the liquid sit in his mouth for a moment before coating his throat with the sensation of it.

Turning his attention back to the party, he remembers David’s sister, though how she ever left his mind is beyond him.

But at the same time, he does have a lot on his mind, so he forgives himself for forgetting about the beautiful blonde for a little while. Though turning his attention towards her would definitely help him forget about Milah, which he realizes he desperately wants. He scans the room, trying to find her and those damn leather pants somewhere, but when he cannot, he drops his head, hitting his chest with his chin. Running his fingers through his hair then across his stubble, he sighs, then decides to return to his table, and to his book. Hopefully.

But as he turns the corner away from the bar and towards his table, he spots her, her back to the party, sitting at the very table he just left, her slender fingers carefully running over the book he left on the table.

For a moment, he wonders what it would be like for her to run those fingers over him, before he curses himself. He takes another careful sip of his rum as he fills the rest of the space between him and the table.

“I am planning on paying for it, just so you’re aware.”

He does not think he spoke loudly, but he still notices that he caused her to jump a little before she turns to him, watching him take a seat across the small wooden table.

“I never doubted that, actually.” Her smile is small, just the beginnings of the radiance she flashed him when they were introduced. He hopes he can get her back to that brilliance.

“Shouldn’t you be attending to your party?” He gestures around the room, but her eyes do not leave his face.

“You’re also at my party, aren’t you?” Her smile grows, but only a little. “It’s not like I’m being completely antisocial, sitting in the corner by myself.”

Her words tear a hole in his chest, but when her face reddens and she drops it to the table, hitting her forehead against her crossed forearms, he doesn’t think she meant it in the way he was taking it.

After a moment, she straightens back up, and she looks so absolutely devastated that he can’t help the laugh that rattles in his chest. “I promise I didn’t mean that like— as an insult, I just— ” Her eyes meet his, taking them off of the book sitting between them, and the softness of her features proves his thought is correct. “I’m sorry. You’re in a completely new town with people you’ve never met before. If I was in your place, I would be doing the same thing.”

He smiles gently at her, reaching across the table and covering her hand with his. “Truly, love, it’s alright. Though I hope you never find yourself in my place.” He doesn't know what calls him to say it; the last thing he wants to do is spew his tragic backstory to the gorgeous blonde sitting across the table from him. But, taking another careful sip of his drink, he watches her eyes turn up to him in question.

But her response doesn't force anything from him: "Well, whatever brought you here, Killian, I for one am thankful for it."

She smiles at him again, closer to the divine radiance from their meeting, and after a moment, he returns the smile. "Thank you, love," he says finally. "I appreciate that. Truly."

A beat passes between them, softened by both of their smiles, and when she turns her eyes back down to the book still on the table between them , he notices the twinge of red that takes over her cheeks, darkening further as she changes the subject.

"You know, Dean Koontz was one of my favorite authors in college. I haven't read this one in particular, but all of the reviews I've read or gotten about it make it sound interesting."

Killian nods. "I heard a few great things about him before, but this one in particular was mentioned in an article I read on the plane here from England. I was just perusing, searching for an activity to pass the time when I came across it on your shelves and decided to give it a try."

"You're from England then?"

For some reason, it is not a question he was expecting from her, and part of him believes that she's simply making small talk to be civil. But the genuine interest he finds in her jade eyes is just the push he heeds to convince himself that, maybe, not everyone views him as a sob story. He truly hopes that Emma does not.

"Aye, from a small town in the north."

"But weren't you in the Navy with my brother?"

"I was. My mother was American, so when she left my father and returned to America, I joined her. I was twelve, and my brother was nineteen and joined the Royal Navy at the same time that we left."

She nods, obviously intrigued by his story, most likely trying to fill in the gaps from what David had told her. "But you went back to England after you were injured?"

He attempts to smile, but it doesn't come. "Aye, by that time, sickness had taken my mother and Liam had gotten a job in England, so I went home to be with him."

"You and your brother are close, then?" Her question is harmless—she is genuinely interested. Even still, unknown to her, the words hit him like a blade to the heart and he has to swallow the lump that forms in his throat before he can answer her.

"We were." As much as he was trying to avoid the 'retelling of the tragic backstory' part of the night, he finds that he actually wants to tell her. "He passed a week ago. Killed in the line of duty."

For the second time—because yes, she was counting—she reaches out and covers his hand with her own.

"I'm so sorry, Killian. Is that—is that what brought you here, then?" Her voice is soft, a sort of real niceness that reminds him of the time he had spent with Dave's wife, Mary Margaret. He's incredibly thankful for it. For her.

"Aye. There was nothing left for me in England, and Dave was really the only person from my time in the military that I've stayed in touch with so coming here was the only sensible idea in my mind."

Her eyes fall back to the table, to where her hand is still resting on top of his. Neither of them make a move to change that.

"Well, I hope you find Storybrooke as healing as I have."

"I have a feeling it might be exactly what I need." He's fairly sure he's not talking about the town and, finally, when she looks at him again, he sees that he has succeeded in bringing her smile back.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Killian’s attention back to the book as much as it can be with the gorgeous woman sitting across from him, Emma pulling her phone out of the pocket of the vest and staring down at it for the moment of silence she has before someone approaches her, a dark-haired woman in a simple black dress and a witch hat, and Killian raises his eyes to her before Emma notices her presence behind her.

“Emma,” the woman says, "I need you to look at something for me, if you're not busy?"

Smiling gently up at her, Emma turns back to Killian. "Captain Jones, this is Mayor Mills. He was in the Navy with David."

"Pleasure," she says, though the look on her face paints the opposite picture, so Killian simply raises his glass to her before turning his attention back to the pages.

"Excuse me," Emma mumbles as she pushes herself away from the table.

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

Slowly, the party begins to come to a close. People leave, one by one or in groups, each thanking Emma before finding their way out of the building. Killian watches it all from his corner of the room, watches her intently even though he pretends to read any time someone turns towards him. It is almost midnight once Emma actually takes a moment to look at her phone, the screen filled with notifications, people tagging her in their Instagram pictures and their Facebook posts, plus pictures from Belle of her new daughter.

Even so, with all the work and clean up she knows is ahead of her, she somehow finds herself back at the table in the corner, glass of whiskey in hand as she stares across at Killian who has turned his eyes up to hers in an incredible staring contest.

"Can I help you, love?" he mumbles in a voice that Emma might even define as a growl, a sound that strikes Emma right to the core. She can't quite understand it, but she is suddenly overcome with a need , an incredibly physical desire, an attraction unlike anything Emma has ever felt.

And Killian feels it too, staring across the table at her. He never thought he would feel this way towards a other woman, thought he had wasted what was left of himself on Milah. But sitting here, across from his best friend's sister with the bright green eyes filled with desire, he feels it again.

"God, I hope so," she whispers, so quiet that Killian is not even sure that she meant to say it out loud. But after the night they have had during the course of this party, staring at each other across the room as if their eyes were magnets, drawn only to the other, he by no means is against what her words insinuate. Emma may have only had a few glasses of whiskey over the hours of the party, but Killian has been at it regularly all night—and though he has never had a problem holding his own, it continues to strengthen his innuendoes shared only with her the few times she found enough time to join him again.

Leaning across the table on his elbows, he reaches out to press the tips of his fingers against her arm, needing to feel some part of her against him.

"Just give me the chance, darling, and I promise you won't be disappointed."

The bright red that quickly rises to tint her cheeks assures him that what he assumed earlier was correct, that she didn't think she actually spoke the words that crossed her mind.

Staring across the table for a moment longer, Emma covers his hand against her arm with her own. Then, as quickly as it started, the moment's over.

Emma clears her throat. "I need to clean up."

"Do you need assistance?"

"Please, Killian," she laughs, squeezing his hand below hers. "You're a guest here. The last thing you need to do is help clean up after people you don't even know."

He returns her smile with his own. "If you change your mind, love, you know where to find me."

"Of course. Thank you," she whispers before getting up from the table once more.

But keeping away from him, keeping her attention anywhere but him as she and the few partygoers left stuff trash bags and wipe down tables, proves to be a much harder task than she anticipates. Every time she turns her eyes back to him, sitting alone at the table with the book before him, she finds his eyes trained on her, no matter where she is in the room.

Ruby must pick up on this as she cleans up her own bar stock, making her own eyes at Emma when she meets them.

"Remember what I told you earlier,” she whispers, sliding past Emma with a box of bottles. "It wouldn't hurt to get a little action tonight."

Emma huffs, rolling her eyes at the words of her friend. But, at the same time, Emma realizes that Ruby may be right, thinking of Killian in ways she has tried her hardest the whole night to avoid: trembling above her, holding her in his arms as she feels every muscle of him against her.

Inside her.

It's been almost two years since she left Neal, learning that his trips to Boston for "work" were really for him to see his other woman. Two years since he had broken her heart, since she decided never to trust another man.

But letting Killian have his way with her, letting him roam her body with his hands, his tongue—that doesn't mean opening her heart up to him.

Not necessarily.

Suddenly, every moment begins to suffocate her. It is bubbling up inside her, threatening to take her over, this need for him. And so, she does what she can: she sends the remainder of the guests home, David and Mary Margaret and a small handful of others.

But not Killian.

Killian stays. Even when David tries to insist his friend leaves with him, then Killian joins the conversation.

"I've done nothing but sit on my hands all night, mate. The very least I can do is make sure she gets home safely."

"Fine, fine," Dave gives in, clapping his hand on his friends shoulder. The look they share in that moment recalls Dave's comment from earlier about flirting with everyone to his memory, but he hopes that Dave is not thinking of the same thing. "Just don't stay out too late," he adds with a smile, then wraps his arm around his wife, who looks like she could collapse from exhaustion at any moment and leads her out the door. He looks back at his sister one last time through the store window, and then they are gone.

Emma and Killian are alone. Before turning towards him—because when she does, she fears she may not be able to turn away—she locks the door behind her brother, then lowers the blinds over the windows.

Then, once she is sure that they are safe from any interruptions, she turns to face him, his bright eyes and sly smile peeking out from above the book in his hands.

For what feels like eternity, neither of them move as if the world has pressed the pause button, her hands set on her hips, and one of his eyebrows locked high on his forehead.

And then, finally, it gets to him, and he gets up from the table and fills the space between them, taking her face in his hand and resting his prosthetic against her hip.

"I was hoping you felt as I did," he says softly, but keeps the rest of the space between them for her to choose to fill herself. “Just two ships passing in the night,” he whispers, overwhelmed by the need to make some kind of joke about their costumes.

She takes a moment to stare up at him, to take in the details of his face that she had failed to see throughout the night: the small scar on his cheek, that she runs her thumb over; the flecks of light that twinge his dark beard, not just silver-grey but red; and, perhaps most prominently the streaks of white in his hair, hair that calls to her to run her fingers through. So she does.

It is much softer than she expected it to be, light as a feather and softer than she's known anyone's hair to be.

“Passing closely, I hope.”

Smiling up at him, she wraps her hand around the back of his neck and pulls his lips to hers. He lets her guide the kiss for a moment, not forcing her into anything she does not want— though, by the way she presses her body against him, he erases any doubt that they are not already on the same page; but when he feels the warm flick of her tongue against his bottom lip, he grants her entry, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her flush to him, to make sure that she feels every inch of him against her.

“Killian,” she whispers, her lips still pressed against his, and he hums in response. “We can’t do this here.”

“Aye, love. I was thinking that, but Lord knows I wasn’t going to stop you.”

She laughs against him, running her hand against the stubble that covers his cheek, which earlier that day he cursed himself for not getting rid of, but feeling her fingers against it makes him glad that his laziness got the best of him. “My office is in the back” she says, pulling away from him just enough to look into his eyes.

“Lead the way,” he mumbles back, but not before he can grind against her, the leather of his pants failing to hide anything from her, showing him half-hard and growing beneath the fabric, a sign that he wants this just as much as she does.

Pulling away before she loses the ability to, she takes his hand in hers and pulls him through the store. But when she leans against the door into the back, pulling at the handle to push it open, she finds it locked— of course it’s locked, because why would it have been open?

She turns back towards the store, trying to figure out where her damn keys are, but Killian misinterprets the movements and presses his body against hers, needing to feel her again, trapping her between him and the door. His lips find hers again, hot and dominating in a way that she didn’t know she needed until he was on her, could feel the hardness of him against her own leather pants.

“Killian, wait ,” she pleads again, his lips on her neck, and when she begins to laugh, he stops his movements and stares up at her, his head still ducked below hers, blue eyes blown wide with both his desire and his confusion. “I need to find my keys. The door is locked.”

“And this is funny to you somehow?”

“The last thing I want you to do is stop, but I can’t find my damn keys to get into my own office. That’s what’s funny.”

A smile grows across his face, all the way from his dimples to the lines that form around his eyes. “Aye, that makes more sense. Have you any idea where they might be?”

Pinching her lips together, she raises her eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember what she did with them when she arrived here hours ago, after putting them in the pocket of her jacket like she always does. When her mind fails her, coming up blank, she tosses her head back even further, hitting the top of it against the door behind her.

“I’ll help you search for them, love,” Killian comments, his voice deep and hoarse, and she suddenly becomes immensely aware of all the places he is touching her: his left hand on her hip, the fingers of his right blushing softly against the back of her neck, partially tangled in her hair—not to mention the heat of his hips pressing her into the door, the hardness of him apparent even through both of their pants, fueling the fire that he has already started in her core.

God damn this fucking door.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, letting her head fall until her forehead is pressed against his, and the thumb of his right hand comes up to run gently across her cheek.

“I can assure you, Swan, there is nothing for you to apologize for. Nothing says foreplay like a scavenger hunt.” He is completely serious for a moment, and Emma is terrified that somehow, he’s not joking—until his facade breaks, and a smile grows across his face. “They have to be here somewhere.”

He pushes away from her, leaving her leaning back against the door, and her body is suddenly overcome with a chill, missing the heat that he was passing to her.

“They’re in my jacket— did I say that already? It’s leather. And, uh, red.” Her face begins to turn the same color, somehow realizing for the first time that her beloved jacket is the same color and material as these damned pants that have started to become too tight in the past few minutes.

“Bloody hell,” Killian mumbles, hopefully not loud enough for Emma to hear, but the blush that is already running across her face makes him believe she hasn’t.

After taking a moment to gather herself, she pushes herself off the door to her office, needing to find something to do to make up for the fact that she’s not doing Killian.

Damn, that’s cheesy.

But when he calls to her from the corner of the store, behind the checkout counter that Mary Margaret had turned into a candy bar, she suddenly doesn’t care how cheesy it was, because it’s true.

“Did you find it?”

“Unless someone else also has a red leather jacket that they left here with their keys in the pocket, then I’m fairly sure I found it, love.”

His smile does absolutely terrifying things to her insides, warming them up in a way that can’t be safe, and when he presses his lips to the back of her neck as she finally unlocks the door, she feels like she might just catch fire.

He closes the door with her body, pressing her against it faster than she can close it behind him, covering her with his own body as his lips find hers again. They pick up where they left off before, but it quickly becomes more, Emma's hands finding the buckle of his belt as his snake further up her thighs, landing finally on her leather-clad ass. She unsnaps the button on his pants, the zipper practically undoing itself, and he stops to pull his head away from her, just far enough to look her in the eye. His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen from hers, but his eyes are so sincere, searching for any part of her that doesn't want this as much as he does.

She does, of course, and this is the answer that he finds behind the walls of the emeralds in her irises when she nods to him, and he smiles softly at her for just a moment before covering her mouth with his again. Wrapping his arms around her once more, she pulls her away from the door and leads her to the small couch against the windows, setting her down on it before reaching down to slide out of his boots, and she does the same.

As he stands back up, she tries to pull him back to her, but instead, he drops to his knees before her. Her eyes sparkle in the light of the office, never leaving his face, and when his hands slide up the inside of her thighs the palm of his hand pressing lightly on her core as he begins to untie them, she can’t stop the moan that escapes her lips. His fingers snake into the top of the material, slowly sliding it down her legs, followed closely by his lips. He struggles a little to remove them completely, the material tight against her skin, but when she is finally free of them, he tosses them aside, kneeling between her legs once more.

She sighs when his lips find the soft skin inside her knee. His lips trace up the inside of her thigh, and the moan that escapes her lips when he flicks his finger under the hem of her lace panties and across her folds is enough for him to feel his erection jerk in his jeans, and he wishes he would have let her finish removing them.

“Tell me what you want from me, love,” he growls, running his lips back up the inside of her thigh, the coarse hair on his chin tickling her just as she imagined it would.

“I --” she starts, but when he slides his finger between her folds, whatever she was trying to say is replaced by a sharp intake of breath, followed by a thick, mumbled, “Oh, fuck me.”

“Patience, darling,” he says, his lips pressed against the top of her thigh, then flicks his tongue out right above where his fingers have entered her. She moans again, this time softer, and he feels her stomach clench when he slides his fingers further into her as he presses his tongue against her clit. “Now, I'm going to ask you again, love: tell me what you want.”

It takes all the strength she has not to finish for him right then and there, with his fingers inside her and his lips against her, his mumbled words reverberating against her core.

In place of an answer, she lets out a groan. “Oh, Killian,” she breathes, and when he feels the way she is responding to him, he stops, sliding his fingers out of her almost all of the way, the tips remaining as a teasing whisper. “No, please,” she whispers, moving her hips towards him, trying to get him back, and when she opens her eyes, he is staring at her from between her legs, a sly smile spread across his face.

“All you have to do is tell me, love. Say to me what I want to hear, and I'll give it to you.” His voice is still just a growl, but hearing him turns her on more , which she wouldn't have thought possible if she hadn't felt the clenching of her thighs, felt the heat that came with it.

“Make me come, finish me with your fingers and your mouth before you let me ride your cock.” Her breathy words tumble out of her, but they are the most she can manage at the moment.

For just a second, he does not acknowledge them, and she is afraid that, somehow, that wasn't what he wanted to her.

And then he smiles at her, darting his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. “Aye, love, I think I could make that happen,” he whispers, then watches her intently as he fills her with his fingers again, focusing on just the right spot with his tongue to make her come apart for him after just a few more thrusts. When he feels her contract against his fingers, he moans, by far the sexiest sound she has ever heard, and when she finally opens her eyes to meet his again, he is smiling. “Attagirl, Emma. Give me all you got.” He doesn't stop, holding her in her high until she can't handle it anymore, finding his hand with hers.

“Killian,” she says, her voice no more than the breath she lets out, and he pulls away from her, though only for long enough to rid himself of his pants.

She wants to be surprised, learning that he had gone commando beneath the sinful leather, but she’s not . As much as she wants to pull him down to her, wants to taste his lips on hers again, there is something else that she suddenly wants more. Standing before him, she pushes his jacket off his shoulders, hearing it land with a thump against the floor, then undoes the buttons of his vest one by one, following her hands with her lips, soft against the dark hair on his chest, hair that leads all the way down to beneath his legs, and then further still.

When she is finished with the vest, he pulls it the rest of the way off, depositing it somewhere in the room, and her lips continue to trail downwards, stopping at the darkest patch of hair that his erection is jutting from as she wraps her hand around him, running her tongue over the tip of it to catch the fluid dripping from it.

“Emma, darling, you don't—” he starts when he realizes what she is beginning to do, but when she does take him in her mouth, one hand wrapped around the end of his shaft and the other gently cupping his balls, any words he was attempting to say are replaced with a deep groan, followed by a whispered, “ Bloody hell, you siren.”

She laughs around him, starting to pump him with both her hand and her mouth, and his hand tangles itself in her hair, needing an anchor to something before he loses control completely. When she feels him begin moving with her, rocking his hips in time with her hand, she stops, sliding her mouth off of him with a pop, and her sarcastic comment is on the tip of her tongue when he kneels down beside her, his fingers still in her hair as he guides her to the soft carpet of the floor and finds her mouth with his.

Their kiss is rough, all fire and passion and fury, tasting themselves on the other, and by the time he pulls himself away from her, anything she was planning on saying to him is gone.

Slowly, he begins to unlace the back of her vest, his fingers hot against her when she does feel them, and she snakes her arms free of it before he runs his hands across her stomach to her hips, finding their way beneath the black shirt, lowering himself so he can kiss his way up her stomach as he removes it, pushing it over the swell of her breasts to find nothing beneath the shirt but the perfect ivory of her skin, the peaks of her perfect pink nipples slowly hardening under his gaze, even as he pulls the shirt over her head and deposits it with the rest of their clothing.

He says nothing, his eyes locked with hers, and a soft smile spreads across his lips, one that she can't help but return. “What?” she whispers.

“You're just so bloody beautiful,” he whispers, and though from anyone else in his situation, the words would have scared her— feelings where there should only be action —she somehow does not feel the same hearing them from him. “Do you still want what you told me before?”

The question is endearing, assuring that she has not changed her mind, even as they both lay completely naked on the floor of her goddamned office.

“Yes.”

He smiles at her again. “Good.” He kisses her forehead, then her lips, then pulls his head back just far enough to watch her as he finally, slowly, slides his cock inside her.

“Oh, Killian,” she moans, meeting his hips with hers in hopes of filling her up more.

They find a rhythm that works, his mouth venturing between her nipples and her lips, her nails raking into his back, until she stops suddenly, her hands planted on his hips and her eyes finding his face, waiting for his to meet hers.

“What is it, love?” he asks, his face painted with concern, but she just smiles at him, wrapping her legs around his ass and pulling him to her.

“If I remember correctly, I already asked to be on top.”

He returns her smile, and she presses her palm against his cheek, raising her eyebrows in warning before they both try—and fail—to roll over. She begins to laugh first, and he joins in automatically as she finds her place above him, her knees straddling his hips. Taking his hand in hers, her other against his shoulder and his left on her hip, she rocks her hips against his erection, pressing her folds into him for a teasing moment before she positions him under her, lowering herself around him. At this angle, she finds he fills her better, more fully, and when he shakes his hand free of hers to tangle itself in her hair, he grabs as much of it as he can in a fist, trying (and succeeding) to find something that would bring her closer to a second orgasm. Her free hand finds her own breast, pinching the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

“You're fucking perfect,” he growls from below her, releasing her hair from his fist only to use it to grab her hip, his fingers hard against her skin to leave marks, but she doesn't care, especially once he stretches his thumb out to find her clit, rubbing it in slow circles to match the pace she is setting with her hips. “Come again for me,” he demands, and it is only moments before she does, coming undone for him for the second time that night.

She is still riding her high on him when he mumbles, “I'm close, love, where do you want me to come?” and she rocks her hips hard against him as he thrusts, allowing him to be as deep inside her as he can, even if just for a moment.

“Right there, yes, fuck,” she says, rocking against him again, a movement doing wonders for her own orgasm.

“Are you sure, Emma?” he asks softly, slowing for just a moment, and she swears that she has never met anyone with enough simultaneous self-control and respect for her to make sure of that in the last moment, not allowing themselves their own release just to make sure she has taken care of everything.

“Killian, yes , I'm fine. Now, please,” she pleads, her hand against his cheek as she tries to help him return to the pace they were at before. “Give me what I want,” she whispers, and his fingers dig into her hip again.

“Okay, darling. Okay.” And he does just that, pumping himself into her until they are both, finally, spent.

Holding him inside her, she falls onto his chest, pressing a kiss into his forehead and his cheek before her lips find his neck, a movement that pulls a soft chuckle out of him before he asks, “Do you, uh, need to clean up, or something? I've never not used protection before, though I imagine it still has to go somewhere, right?”

She leans up again, her elbow on his chest to rest her chin on her hand as she raises her eyebrow at him. “You've really never not used a condom?”

“Aye, love, what's so hard to believe about that?”

Shrugging, she pulls a few tissues out of the box on the corner of her desk, thankfully within her reach, pressing them between her legs as she slides away from him, then searches for her underwear.

“I guess it's just been a while since I've used any that I forget it's some people's main source of protection.” She turns away from him, collecting as much of their fluid as she can before she finds her underwear, still tucked into those damned leather pants. She pulls them on, opting to allow her body to cool back down to a normal temperature before attempting to squeeze back into them. In place of the rest of the costume, she digs through the bottom drawer of her desk until she finds the plain black t-shirt that she’s stored there, though it never had a purpose before tonight.

Pulling it over her head, and though it covers her skin, it fails to provide the protection that the padding in the off-the-shoulder shirt had across her chest, as she notices when she turns back towards Killian.

When he realizes she is facing him once more, his hand slides up his neck to grasp the hair behind his ear, having managed to don his own pants again, but the dark hair that still covers his chest is still on full display.

“As much as I enjoyed that activity, Swan, I was really hoping to ask you to dinner sometime.”

Emma feels her eyes grow wide, astounded both at the question itself and at just how much of a gentleman Captain Jones had proven himself to be throughout the whole of the evening. This was not supposed to happen.

None of this was supposed to happen.

The worst part, though, is not the feelings attached to asking her out, but the fact that she completely, utterly, overwhelmingly wants to say yes. To her brother’s best friend.

To her brother’s best friend.

“What will David think?”

It is, without a doubt, the last thing he expected to hear from her as a response, and he raises his eyebrows at her—though when he realizes his own answer, he can’t stop the smile that flashes across his face.

“I would assume that he would much rather I court you than learn that I’ve fucked you senseless in your office just hours after I met you for the first time.”

God, he’s good.

“Is that what you think you’ve done?” Now it’s her turn to smile at him, cocking her head with her question.

“Perhaps not senseless, though I would at least like the opportunity to try again.”

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

That opportunity presented itself after their second date, exactly a week from the Halloween party. For the first time ever, and thankfully at the talented hands of Captain Killian Jones, Emma learned what it meant to be ‘fucked senseless’ after he had pleasured her with his fingers, then his mouth, and finally, his cock, laying beside him too drained to move, to think, to feel.

It’s definitely a feeling that she wouldn’t mind experiencing again.

#captain swan ff #captain swan #cs ff #cs smut #cs cocktoberfest #cs cocktober #my writing #silver fox killian jones

93 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 11: Dark World

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mention of genocide, casual racism, mentions of past death Relationships: Loki x Reader (if you squint) Characters: Loki (Marvel), OFC, Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, Loki needs to Work on the Racism, Have More Headcanons, Loki is Not Fond of Stephen Strange, Loki is also Not Fond of Reliving Certain Memories Summary: Reader gets an impromptu astronomy/history lesson, but Loki glosses over the important parts, not wanting to dwell on the very history that he himself made

Loki was still reading the Alfar book when you returned, but he set it aside for a moment to inquire about how your check-in went.

“I told him the truth.” You said simply. “I’m not gonna lie to Captain America.”

“Oh, you fancy the old soldier?” He teased.

“I believe in what he stands for.” You said, lifting your chin.

“And what is that? Ah, don’t tell me.” He stood, and began to prowl around you like a cat. “Courage. Nobility. Self-sacrifice. Honor and glory! For God and Country! Amen!”

“Justice.” You said, as he completed his circle. “No more billionaires getting away with slavery and murder. No more cops killing you for having the wrong skin color. No more people thinking there even is a wrong skin color. No more kids going hungry in the richest nation on Earth. No blindly following unjust laws. Standing up, and making your little corner of the world a better place. We wanna believe America is exceptional? Then we have to make it that way. We haven’t, but we could.”

“And what do you bring to that table, little baker?” He questioned. “What’s exceptional about you?”

You had never been anything special. You were average. You had gotten average grades, came from an average part of the country, looked average. You were a hard worker, but you couldn’t be anything less, or you��d be homeless. Average jobs meant starvation wages. You hadn’t gone to college. You’d never stopped studying, but without a degree, all your extracurricular learning meant nothing. What could you have been, if only you’d had the money to make anyone believe in your worth? What could you do?

“I can do magic.” You offered.

“Can you? Why don’t you show me?”

So he was still going to be like that, was he?

You quickly grabbed him by the hand, and reached for a nearby glass. He caught you by the wrist before you could pick it up, and shook his hand loose from yours.

“Okay, yes. But can you do it without our contact?”

“Not yet.” You conceded. “But once you teach me how, I will.”

“So what you’re saying is that, for you to grow and reach your great potential…you need me.”

He fixed you with a positively wolfish grin. It made your stomach flip. You crossed your arms and stared up into his teeth. He just wants you to react.

“Or, you know, that wizard we saw before.”

“That presumptuous dilettante?” He growled. “The arrogant dabbler would have you scrubbing his floors to distract you from his lack of ability! He wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

“And you do?”

“Moreso than that cocksure novice!”

“Sure don’t like him, huh? What’s the deal? Did he scuff up your shoes one time, or something?” Now this was amusing! He sounded like an overdramatic teenager ranting about a rival.

“He’s a swaggering pretender playing with forces he barely understands. A baby given an incredibly dangerous toy. I have had centuries to grow and mature in the Art, he has the equivalent training of picking up a pamphlet and thinking he’s learned everything.”

“Mature, huh? Is that why you turned my hair green?”

He snorted. “It’s not green, you little fool.” He waved his hand in front of your eyes. “Go look.”

You did. Everything was normal again.

“The illusion was not on your hair.” He informed you. “It was on your eyes. Did you think nobody said anything about it out of respect? My brother would have mentioned it, even if no one else did.”

“Okay, I’m…actually less mad about that than I thought I would be. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I can do an untold number of things that you don’t yet know about.”

“Oh.” That sounded mildly threatening. “Well…can you tell me more about Svartalfheim? I couldn’t finish my lesson yesterday, Miss Valkyrie was a little unsure about the details of its recent history.”

He frowned. “You’re still on about that? I suppose it’s lucky that one of my meetings has been cancelled. But I cannot always waste time on your curiosity. “

“Rude! You think teaching your history is wasting time?”

“I don’t.” He sat down, patting the bench, inviting you to join him. Why did he do things like that? His moods and actions in constant flux. You never knew where he’d be a few moments down the line.

Loki is the trickster of the gods, an untrustworthy god of lies, deceit, treachery and evil. The father of lies and monsters, a patron of misleading actions.

You sat down next to him.

“It’s just that I hate Svartalfheim, and I hate the Svartalfari. Living through events that make it into history books is nearly always unpleasant in some way. But you are so cursed curious, so I suppose I must fill you in.”

He conjured an image of a black, cloudy world, orbiting a dim, eclipsed sun. There were no visible stars. Swathes of dust obscured the already weak light.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathed.

He gave you a look. “It’s dismal. Just look at it. It’s colorless, dry and depressing.”

“But how is it like this? How is the sun like that? Where are the stars?”

“Do you want history or astronomy?”

“Both!”

He sighed. “The galaxy in which Svartalfheim is located contains a great deal of dust and dark matter. Svartalfheim itself orbits a small, young star within an absorption nebula. Do you know what that is?”

“I know what a nebula is.”

“Okay, well there’s more than one kind. This kind does not glow with the light of the stars within it; no light escapes or enters. So, no stars, no constellations, no inkling that there might be someone else out there. There are but two planets in this system, no others have had time to form. There is Svartalfheim, small, dark, dirty. And then there is this enormous gas giant, just barely not a star itself. Both planets are very close to the star, so Svartalfheim is warm, despite the darkness. But by some fluke of development, both planets have the exact same orbital period. Meaning-“ He continued, noticing your slightly confused expression. “-that they have the exact same length of year. And so, this gas giant is forever between Svatalfheim and the star. The eclipse is permanent. A day on Svartalfheim is very long. Long dark days, and long black nights. Do you follow?”

“Stuff’s dark. I got it.”

“Yes. And so, no plants larger than lichens grow. That’s really all they have there. Lichens and mushrooms. The soil is poor, as is the ecosystem. Only a few species can live there, and the majority of those are carnivorous, feeding off small eaters of lichen, and each other. All of this contributes to the overall dreariness of the place. “

“I still think it’s beautiful.”

“Why?” He asked, seeming annoyed that you hadn’t instantly taken up his same dislike of the place. “It’s bleak. It’s empty. It’s hostile.”

“It’s different! It’s new, and young, and we’ve never seen what might live on a young planet. I didn’t even know life could form on planets in such weird circumstances.”

“Midgardian attitudes toward space are rather amusing, do you know that? You all have such a passion for it, but you’ve barely done anything with that passion. It’s as if you are obsessed with looking through your windows, but won’t take but a few steps outside your own door.”

“Well, I mean, we didn’t have a Bifrost, and we need, just, so much air? To survive? I already know we’re less tough and have shorter lives than you all, so that probably has something to do with it. We haven’t been able to build ships that could hold everything we need, and go fast enough to get us places within those short lifespans. And then I think some weird things happen to our bodies when we stay in space for too long? I’m not sure, I haven’t studied it before. Kinda want to now, though.”

“There is a Bifrost here now.” Loki pointed out. “Someday, it will be like our old one, and able to transport people to all of these planets. Svartalfheim is forbidden though, on order of the king. And myself. I’m afraid I can never take you there.”

“Oh. But why not?”

“Because we hate it. Or rather, I hate it, and my brother hates it and also sympathizes with it.”

“You’ve been beating around the bush here. Can’t you tell me what happened?”

“I can. But it’s unpleasant. You know, I assume, of my grandfather’s battle with the Svartalfari?”

“Yeah. And the Aether, and that it came back later in a human lady. Did you meet her?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes…we met.”

“What was she like? She had this stone inside her?”

“She was…interesting. Secretly powerful. You know only a few can handle the stones without terrible consequences. She didn’t exactly handle it, she could not utilize its powers, but she did contain it. If you were to touch one of these things, it would likely consume you entirely, understand? She held it within her body, and all it did was weaken her.

In the end, we rid her of its influence, but it fell into our enemies hands. Behold.”

A small figure emerged. It was entirely white and black; white skin, white hair, white armor that looked carved from bone, all wrapped and strapped in leathery black clothing. It wore an expressionless, hollow-eyed, white mask over its face.

“Okay, that’s creepy.”

“That’s a Svartalfar. Hideous, cave-crawling, hateful creatures.”

“Why do they look like us? Why do they all look like us?”

“What do you mean?” The planet and the person dissipated.

“Vanir, Asgardian, Human, Svart-al-far, we all look the same. Same body shape, same faces. We all have written languages, wear clothes, make fashion choices. Some worse than others. We should all be extremely different from one another, shouldn’t we?”

“Convergent evolution?” He suggested.

“I’m gonna have to look that up. So is that why they’re so pale? Because they live in caves?”

“Precisely. They are very insular, unforgiving of any weakness. They used to war against each other, having no idea there was anything or anyone outside of their tiny star system. They couldn’t do what humans did; they couldn’t look out into the stars and wonder if they were alone or not. When they found out that they were not, they did not react with wonder, or even fear. They have only hatred for anything that isn’t one of them. They try to destroy anything that is not Svartalfari.”

“Okay, but you guys didn’t exactly come with open arms, right? You wanted something that was on the planet, didn’t you?”

He sighed. “Metals. Mostly zinc and silver.”

“Uh-huh. So their first contact with another species was a bunch of warlike invaders who wanted to steal their stuff. But of course, they’re just ‘naturally inclined’ to hate all outsiders.”

“Now I know it seems like that, but we did attempt to open trade agreements first. We saw how poor the ecosystem of the planet was, and offered to trade food with them. Grain and such.”

“Did they not want that? Was it taken as some kind of insult?”

“No, not exactly. It just turned out our food was poisonous to them.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes. Our existence, what we represented-that is, an entire unseen universe beyond what they thought was ‘everything’-upset their cultural understanding of their place in existence. And this death we brought could only be interpreted as a deliberate attack. The Svartalfari are truly immortal, you understand; they can be killed, but they do not die on their own. Old age is an unknown concept to them. Due to this, their birth rate is incredibly low. They had a stable population of only a few tens of thousands, that’s it.

Hundreds died in the initial poisonings. That was when their hatred truly took hold. As the deaths continued, one of them rose to a position of prominence. He spread a doctrine of genocide among his people; that all others were a mockery of what the universe should be. That all others must die. They began by killing the Asgardian miners and merchants, and continued doing this until the armies came. This one man mustered all of his warring people under one cause, and claimed to have a weapon to back him up.

He had discovered the Aether. You know it as an Infinity Stone, the Reality stone specifically. With it, one can influence, or even change reality itself. He intended to use it to revert the universe to its initial state of darkness. It was possible only under a cosmic convergence that brings all the realms into line, and breaks down barriers between those worlds. He thought to use the stone then, to reach as far into the universe as he could, extinguishing the light along the way.

My grandfather and our armies routed them. Nearly the entire species was wiped out, and we left the planet permanently.”

“Didn’t stay for the silver?”

“I think, for perhaps the first time, my grandfather regretted a battle. He certainly liked to fight and conquer, but I do not believe he was genocidal. That takes a…a certain kind of insanity that rarely looks like what it is. So he forbid his people from returning, leaving the planet as a graveyard.

But, of course, they didn’t all die. Their leader, some of his soldiers, and a very few children survived. And so, thousands of years later, they tried again. In search of the Aether, which was within that woman, they actually invaded Asgard.

I was imprisoned at the time. You know, for my oh-so heinous crimes against your world, which my father had abandoned a millennia ago.” He sounded positively venomous for a moment. “You know, they broke all the other criminals out. Offered to free me, but…I just didn’t take the opportunity. You know, I think I still believed I’d be forgiven in time. ‘Look Father! I had the chance, but I didn’t take it! I still have some honor after all!’ Hmph.” He grimaced. “The Svartalfari invaders murdered the queen while I stayed in a cage.”

And there was the reason their mother had never been mentioned. She wasn’t here. You opened your arms almost on reflex. Who had hugged him after that?

His hand was on your forehead in an instant, halting your compassionate advance.

“Spare me.” He said dryly. “It wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me that day.”

“What?”

“Well of course we sought revenge. Did you know my brother and Heimdall are traitors to the Crown? It was never just me. We broke so many laws together. Ah, good times. We headed right to Svartalfheim, got the Aether out of that woman, and tricked the Svartalfari easily. And then I was killed, and left behind on that miserable place.”

“What?” You repeated.

“Obviously I wasn’t completely dead, but I was very close. It certainly seemed like it; enough to fool absolutely everyone. Including myself. But I am Aesir, and I did not die. Oh, but they did. All of the invaders. I ended the life of my mother’s killer, but if I could have taken the head of every remaining member of the species, I would have.”

“Genocide takes a certain kind of insanity-“ You began to repeat his earlier words.

“Yes. It does.” He stared at you, face sharp and serious. “My brother has once again forbid contact with Svartalfheim. Any who survive may someday rebuild the species. I cannot bring myself to care.”

“Your highness.” You said firmly. “You should allow me to hug you.”

He gave you a long, silent side-glance.

“You do not command me, tiny mortal.” He proclaimed darkly. But he did lift his arm, and look away, giving you the opportunity to wrap your arms around his middle.

You took it.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

scarecrowandmrking · 6 years

Text

All That Is And Will Never Be (Mark Pellegrino/OC)

I took another sip of my wine and glared in ever increasing fury at the computer screen. It was two in the morning and even though I knew I had to get up early to make it out to the set on time, I just couldn’t end the argument and let HIM win. I could just imagine his wolfish smile off somewhere in LA as he realized that, for once in our twitter war of the past two years that he had finally shut me up on something. No way would I give him that kind of satisfaction.

If you actually thought with reason and not the err of rampant emotionalism, you would see what I’m talking about, he typed.

If you actually thought with care and not that stuffy headed Rand nonsense, you would see what I’m talking about, I wrote back.

Tell me where Rand went wrong.

Tell me where she didn’t?

Did you read any of the books we discussed?

Did you read any of mine?

There was a long pause before he wrote back, I really don’t consider Art Of Being An Asshole a useful political tome.

WHY? I asked him. You read Rand.

I closed the laptop with a grin. I could just see him sitting there stewing over that one for a while. Good. I had met the actor Mark Pellegrino many years ago when he was playing Jedikiah Price in The Tomorrow People and I was on a sister show on the CW. I had thought him rather imposing and remote. He had given me one of those tiny, barely there smiles I had seen in so many photos of him here and there. I had found his height and build both equally imposing and erotic, brushing up against him in an elevator going up to the place where the photo ops were being taken. He hadn’t said a word, but that quirky smile had stayed with me for a while. And I had to admit that later that night I did indulge in some vigorous hand under the covers fun at his imaginary expense.

But these days the infatuation had turned to fury as Mark and I had met each other again on social media. It had all started off as an angry exchange on a forum about social programs and had spiraled into an ongoing series of attacks on one another’s threads. I never knew when he might show up and vice versa. Though we had taken to fighting on DM after it became apparent that people had started to romanticize our beefs, even going so far as to post sexual fics of us online. Mark found them slightly annoying. I enjoyed reading a few before bed sometimes. Having met the man in person, I could at least attest to the fact that he was quite a sexy creature, though taller and more roguish and infuriating than he needed to be.

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

I slammed the script down on Mel’s desk.

“NO. NO. NO.”

Mel Aberman, producer of The Runaways, the show where I starred as a morally ambiguous leader of a government organization out to erase the living subjects of a failed experiment, just continued to stare at me with an annoyed but resigned look on his face. We had joked with one another about this very subject on more than one occasion. But I never thought in a million years that he would actually do it.

“Look, you should see how popular this guy is,” Mel tells me while typing away on his keyboard. He pointed to some things on Twitter I could have cared less about at that very moment. “You should see the viewership when he did the Rubin Report. People love this guy. Besides, with our ratings lately….”

My face immediately grew hot and red. There it was. Should have known that he would bring up the downturn in numbers for our show as of late to throw in my face.

“Look, I’m not saying you have to fall in love with this guy and have his babies or anything. Just play nice. You know, I worked with him a little on Number 23. Not a bad guy, once you get to know him.”

I rolled my eyes as I turned to stomp from the room, making sure to slam the door behind me for good measure. There was a loud thump as I collided with a dark pea coat, the soft fabric brushing against my cheek. My head shot up and I was face to face with Mark Pellegrino, my old nemesis and the person I had spent many a night hollering at all alone in my bedroom with my laptop in my lap. He wasn’t at all what I had pictured, wearing a black beanie and a pair of clear glasses. But there was no mistaking those twinkling, devilish eyes of his. Like he was enjoying his own private joke that you would never be a part of.

“Oh,” he said, his smile widening. But I noticed, as I had before, that his smiles were never the wide, open kind as much as a tiny curve of his lips that one could never feel quite sure about the intentions of. “We meet at last.”

“Don’t get too use to it,” I told him. “I’ll probably kill you by episode three.”

He tilted his head, considering me for a moment. “Me or my character?”

I shouldered my way past his as best I could considering moving him is a lot like trying to dislodge a small tree. “Both.”

When I made it to my car out in the lot I discovered that someone had placed a copy of The Art Of Being An Asshole on my hood.

“Asshole,” I hissed, my mind already working out just what level of revenge Mel would let me get away with on set.

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

The first couple of scenes I did with Mark made it quite obvious to everyone on set, and the viewing public, that at least our apparent rampant dislike for each other equaled a lot of tension on screen. Which translated into a spike in the ratings. I disliked him, strongly, and when I said certain likes about what a terrible egomaniac I thought he was, it was quite genuine. And when he told me that I was a snobby stick in the mud that needed to lighten up and trust somebody, he was pretty damn convincing about it. But there were also times when our characters did things like grab an arm or brush up against one another that left me pretty shaken up. And it angered me to feel anything for someone that was nothing but a gigantic pain in my ass most of the time these days.

And so we worked ourselves through most of the season avoiding each other as much as possible for two actors who were always rubbing on one another on screen. But at night we would return to our favorite hobby of tormenting the hell out of one another. The barbs were more personal now, the privacy of DM making us bolder about going at it than if we were being watched by the fans. I wasn’t sure at the end of it all if I wanted to jerk myself off or cry after spending most of the day and night around the guy. Sometimes I did both.

The episode I was dreading the most was episode twelves, All That Is And Will Never Be, where Mark and I have our first kiss after a fight in my character’s office. I stood off to the side of the office set as various crew worked their way around getting things ready. Today would be the kissing scene. Tomorrow the love scene. I had only done two on this show before, both with an actor I had known fairly well. It had been strange and not at all sexy to be doing something so intimate with so many people watching you. I glanced over to where Mark sat on the other side of the room, legs crossed with three books in his lap. Didn’t appear to be too worried about the whole thing from what I could tell.

When the time came I made my way around the big desk and sat down to look at my character’s computer, giving the impression that I was deep in a series of reports.

Mark’s character, Agent Charles Rickman, comes in a minute later and slams his palms down upon the desk with a sound so deafening I nearly topple out of my chair. Whoa! Not in the script. The fear and anxiety I feel when I glance up at his enraged face is pretty damn real.

“I saw the tapes!” Charles/Mark hollers, referring to my character being a double agent and letting the teen mutants escape the facility. “I know what you did. And I’m going to make damn sure you tell me everything you know.”

He runs around the desk and grabs me by the arms, pulling me towards the door. His grip is tight on my arm and I struggle for a few seconds before going into agent mode and punching him hard in the face. I tried not to hurt him, this was acting after all, but I may have kicked him in the leg...Just a little. What followed was a series of kicks and punches, all lightening fast and what we had been practicing for the past week, Mark was a boxer in real life so it can be kind of intimidating when his fist gets near your face. But I always knew he would pull back at the last second. No worries there.

But I was worried about the kiss, though. Halfway through a punch Mark pulls me in and presses his lips firmly to mine. I wasn’t expecting his lips to be so soft or his tongue to make its way into my mouth. It was a hungry open mouthed kiss and I felt a searing heat in the pit of my stomach. So this is what it felt like to be pressed up against him, his tongue playing with mine and his hand tangled in my hair. I moaned, wrapping one leg around him before I knew what I was doing. He swept one arm across the table and everything went to the floor. And then he was on top of me, both my legs holding him against me like a vice. I wanted him to rub against me until I came. I wanted…..

“CUT!” I heard someone yell somewhere off in the background. Mark was off of me in a second, turning around and walking off somewhere in the crowd. I just layed there, trying to get my breath and figure out what the hell had just happened. My pussy was dripping wet and cried out for a vigorous fucking. And I realized that what I wanted was for Mark to give me one. I shook my head, cursing myself for letting things get this far. I just needed more self control. He was an actor. This was a role for him. A job. And I was the chick he had been paired up with that he couldn’t stand. Nothing more.

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

Mark was absent that night on Twitter and I wondered if maybe our make out session had gotten to him a little more than I thought it had. But when I got to the set the next day he was the same old Mark as usual, smiling that secretive half smile at the crew and returning to his studies of politics or whatever it was he was reading these days. He noticed me looking his way and gave me a little wave. I gave him the finger back.

The next scene takes place in my character’s apartment after they leave the office building. It just starts out with us making out right as we get through the door and it moves along into the bedroom. No real nudity, wasn’t that kind of show. But I would take my top off and only Mark and the set would know I was wearing skin colored pasties to cover my nipples. Sorry, people. Like I said, sex scenes are not as romantic as you think they are.

When the scene started I was once again thrown into a hot kiss with Mark, only this time things seemed different from before. His body moved against mine in a rougher, more desperate kind of way. His mouth started to nip at mine, at one point sucking on my lower lip in a way that made me moan against him and my pussy wetter than it already was. He lifted me up by my hips and carried me into the room, heading right for the bedroom without stopping on the couch as the script had said. Nobody stopped us though, guess the kissing and clawing looked too good to get in the middle of.

Mark flung me down on the bed, pulling away for a second to loosen his tie and throw it off, something that my lust fueled mind found terribly sexy at that moment. He got down on the bed beside me, as the script had directed and I quickly moved to straddle him, tearing off my blouse in the process. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but his hands moved up and down my side with a tenderness I hadn’t been expecting after the frenzied love making just moments before. I leaned my face down to kiss him, but he moved my head to the side to place open mouthed kisses along my neck, tongue darting out to skillfully lap at the most sensitive parts of skin. I moaned, grinding my pussy against him. Hard.

“You need this. You’ve always needed this. Only me. Only me,” he whispered in my ear.

I shuddered. Not in the script. I could see the dude liked to ad lib. I pushed it all out of my mind as I leaned back and rocked against him, the panties I was wearing and the pants he was wearing not doing much to keep cock and pussy from contact. He had somehow adjusted himself to where his cock was laying against his stomach and I rubbed the head of his dick between my thinly veiled labia. It was all like something two teens would do. And it felt fucking fantastic.

I leaned my head back as I felt myself coming upon his cock. I didn’t care about the camera on my face, capturing an O face that was actually real. For a second I also forgot about Mark, lost in that magical place a good damn orgasm can take you too. I collapsed onto Mark and he kisses me several times on the forehead. I didn’t remember till later that at that point the director had already yelled cut so Mark had not done it because it was part of the scene.

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

The first thing I did when I got out of there was run back to my trailer and fling myself down on my bed. I just needed to be alone for a while. I had had an actual fucking orgasm. On set. On top of another actor and I felt a lot of mixed up shit about it. Did he know that I had come? What would that be like seeing the dude on set later? Damn. Just. Damn. I didn’t want to think about all that right now. I wanted to think about my pussy, which was still wet and begging for more attention. With a sigh, I started to rub myself through my panties. I didn’t want to reach inside just yet. There needed to be a build up where I wanted to imagine it was Mark’s cock against me through the fabric. His hard, swollen cock I wanted to ride until he filled my pussy full of come.

A knock at the trailer door pulled me away from my fantasies with a start and I lay there cursing for a moment before getting to my feet to answer it. I expected to find my assistant or someone from the crew telling me that the director wanted me to come back to discuss the scene we had shot. I was shocked to see Mark standing there, his expression unreadable. I glanced over his shoulder but didn’t see anyone looking our way.

“May I come in.” he asked,

I stepped back, trying to think of why he would feel the need to talk to me in private. We didn’t really have that kind of thing going. Just social media squabbling and sneaking around each other on set.

Mark wrapped his arms around me and pushed me back until my back was up against the trailer’s refrigerator. There was a smile on his face that i hadn’t seen him use before. I imagined it was his real smile, a wide and gentle kind of thing that lit up his whole face and made me feel butterflies in the pit of my stomach. He leaned down, kissing me on the nose.

“Are you okay after all that,” he asked me.

“Are you checking up on me,” I shot back, still thrown a little off balance that he was here, holding me as if we had been lovers for a long time. I still hadn’t got use to the feeling of his body pressed against mine yet. And, before I could stop myself, I became aware that i was rubbing myself against him in a fair imitation of what we had done before.

“Someone has to. When was the last time you trusted anybody? Really trusted somebody.”

“Not any of your business,” I told him, but my arms were still wrapped around him. I didn’t want him to leave. Nothing made much sense to me just then, but I did see that part clearly.

“I want to be that person. You just have to let me in.”

Mark kissed me again. But this time there was a slow seduction to his movements and every once in a while he would stop and stare into my eyes as if asking if what he was doing was alright with me. I felt emboldened by his gentleness, letting my hands run through his hair and over his body beneath his white button up shirt. I pushed against his chest and moved us both towards the bedroom in back, I wanted to get him in bed as fast as I could. And I made sure we ditched our clothes along the way, too.

“You're so beautiful,” Mark tells me, kissing his way along my naked skin. I fall back upon the bed and he spreads my legs, leaning his tall frame down to lick and suck on my wet pussy. I cried out, arching my back and digging my nails into his soft blond hair. I moaned his name as he worked on my swollen clit with his clever tongue, bringing me to an intense peak under his mouth in a short period of time.

“I need you,” I told him, urging him to get on top of me. I wanted to feel him ride my pussy and make me feel as good as he had made me feel with his mouth.

Mark followed me up further on the bed, smiling when I held my legs open for him and moaned impatiently. He plunged his tongue into my mouth at the same time he thrust himself inside of me. My body went rigid for a minute as the feeling of being stretched out and filled enveloped me a sensation that was somewhere between pleasure and pain. Then it was replaced with sheer ecstasy as he began to move inside of me, rocking against me in steady but ever quickening thrusts. He kissed my neck, my face and chest, moaning my name like some sort of mantra. His fingers gently removed my nipple coverings so he could suck on each nipple in turn. I smiled, biting my lower lip as I felt my second orgasm coming from somewhere deep inside of me. I it had ever been this good for me before with a lover, I couldn’t remember it. This felt like something new to me. As if I was experiencing sex for the first time.

“Fuck, yeah,” I heard Mark moan over me, his eyes were partly closed and his head was back a little, lost in the feeling of his impending orgasm. Looking at how beautiful and unguarded he looked in that moment, the calm and confident man I was use to replaced by this animalistic being consumed by his own sensations, pushed me over the edge. I bit him hard on the shoulder as I lost myself in the same explosion of pleasure that was consuming him, The sensation of being filled with his warm come mingled with the sound of him breathing heavily against my neck. I kissed the place where I had bitten him, wrapping my legs tightly around him to hold him in as long as I could. He just seemed to keep filling me up, my hand stroking his back as he continued to empty himself inside of me.

“We’ll be needed back on set soon,” Mark tells me a few minutes later as we lay wrapped up together beneath the covers, his arm cradling my head.

“You know, I think I changed my mind about wanting you to be killed off quick,” I tell him, kissing him on the chest.

“Oh? And what made you change your mind?”

“Seems I finally found something your good at.”

“I’m good at a lot of things.”

I smiled at him mischievously. “Prove it.”

#mark pellegrino #mark pellegrino fan fiction #Pellegrino #markpellegrinosex #markpellegrinoporn #supernatural lucifer #lucifer

8 notes · View notes

sterekloveaffairs · 7 years

Text

Pick Me - Jordan Parrish

Author: sterekloveaffairs

Characters: Reader x Jordan Parrish, Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski

Warnings: jealousy, flirting, fluff

Word Count: 1,710

The end of my shift was nearing when a familiar face appeared in front of the desk in the emergency room. I smiled at him, but at the same time I was cautious: Peter Hale never showed up without a reason.

“Can I help you?” I asked him when all he did was smile back at me, with that wolfish grin that bared his inhumanly white teeth.

“In so many ways, sweetie, but let’s keep it strictly business today, shall we?” I blushed slightly. Peter was handsome, and charming despite his many dark sides, so yes, when he flirted with me, I was flattered.

“What kind of business are we talking about?” I said while filing a bit of paperwork I had been doing. He put his hand on the desk, tapped his fingers a few times and looked around before he leaned closer.

“I might have something to help you with the latest epidemic of people with sore muscles and darkened veins coming in.” He had had my curiosity, but now he had captured my full attention. I dropped the folder I had in my hands and scurried from behind the desk. Those people coming in kept the hospital busy for weeks now, their symptoms an absolute mystery for the medical world, and unfortunately for them, often fatal.

“What do you mean?” I said when I stood next to him. I had had a suspicion that it had something to do with the supernatural, even when Derek didn’t know what it was when I asked him. Peter was in the loft at that time, and I was a little irritated that he hadn’t told me what he knew those few days ago. He put his hand in the pocket of his leather jacket, but looked at me sternly before taking it back out.

“This is information that I might have obtained in a semi legal way.” His voice was soft and his eyes kept scanning the room for possible eaves droppers.

“Semi legal?”

“Which means absolutely fucking illegal and you’re to tell no one you know about its existence.“ I raised my brows and rolled my eyes at him.

“Peter, I'm a nurse, confidentiality is one of the few things I excel at,” I said. He chuckled. Behind me, I could hear the front doors open and the sound of police radios echoed off the walls. Great. Another victim of Beacon Hills. I looked over my shoulder, and I was relieved to see that it was just the sheriff and deputy Jordan Parrish, supporting an older man who had obviously enjoyed himself tonight. He was wobbling on his feet and slurring a song that I couldn’t recognize, no matter how hard I tried. Just a drunk guy in the middle of the night, and not some other creepy Supernatural thing going on. I nodded at the sheriff and smiled at Jordan as one of my co-workers busied herself with the old man, ignoring his barely comprehendible catcalling towards her. When I turned back to Peter, his eyes flickered back from Jordan to me. And he smiled. No, smiling is the wrong word. This was a smirk. I wondered why. There was not a single thing about Jordan Parrish that I could make fun off. In fact, he was one of the nicest, most handsome and equally as decent guys I have ever met. The first time I saw him, was at the sheriff’s station, after he had gotten hurt during an intervention. He did not want to go to the hospital, so sheriff Stilinski had begged me to come over and assess him. And boy, I would assess that man any time. He had been friendly and waited patiently while I tended his injuries, trying to ignore how handsome he was and maintain my professional stance. Afterwards he had thanked me and when I ran into him a few days later in the coffee shop, we talked while waiting in line and decided to sit together to finish our drink. I had seen him regularly after that, and our chats were always enjoyable. So why Peter was smirking? I had no clue.

Peter leaned closer to me, resting his arm around my shoulders.

“Now, these are medical records from patients nationwide, and some research I did on the topic.” I could feel his breath on my ear as he whispered, and I felt another blush creep up my cheeks. Especially when his fingers started toying with a loose strand of hair in my neck that had escaped from my bun.

“Take a look at it, talk about it with Deaton. I think this might be someone spreading diseases through a curse.” That would make sense. How else could it be that so many people were affected, without any connection between them and no traces in their body of poison or anything else that could cause them to get so sick and eventually die. I nodded enthusiastically as he took my hand and I felt his fingers push a USB stick in mine.

“Remember, this stuff is enough to get your grandchildren jail time, so shush.” He was still awfully close, but when he took his distance again, his hand softly stroked my cheek. He grinned at my flustered look and winked at me before he walked away.

“Call me,” He said before walking through the door, causing Jordan to frown and look at me. I avoided his gaze and stuffed the USB stick into the pocket of my scrubs, pretending to be very busy and trying to get rid of my pink cheeks.

“What was that all about?” I jumped up, I hadn’t heard Jordan come closer. I smiled at him, deciding to play stupid. I was good at that. Came natural to me.

“Hi, Jordan. What was what?” I asked. He pointed from me towards the doors through which Peter had walked away and back to me.

“That. What was he doing here?” He sounded stern, and I wondered if this was what he looked like when he was interrogating someone. He could definitely make me say whatever he wanted if he kept looking at me like that...

But I also knew how strict he was when it came to the law, so I thought it was better not to tell him.

“Jordan, I'm a nurse, I can’t talk about that.” He let out a sigh and I turned to him. What was with that attitude? Was he getting annoyed with me?

“What?”

“You know that that’s not what I meant. Why was he standing so close to you? And why was he touching you?” He said it as if Peter Hale himself had invented and released the plague. Fairly said, I think Peter actually would do something like that if given the chance. But why was he acting like this? And what did he think was going on?

“What did it look like?” I ask casually.

“Like he was going to eat you alive.” Yes, that would be Peter’s way of flirting.

Oh, wait.

Oh.

“Why would you care about that?” I said when I realized that Jordan thought that Peter was flirting with me. I mean, he was, but not really flirting. That meant nothing. But if that’s what Jordan thought was happening, I could go with it. That meant that he wouldn’t suspect the presence of illegally obtained information in my left front pocket.

“Because... Well, he’s... It’s weird,” he muttered. This was the first time I saw him lost for words. And the blush that had disappeared from my own face, seemed to have found a new host.

“Why is it weird?”

“Because you’re so... And he’s so... You know?” I shook my head.

“No, I don’t know. Is it because he’s older than me?”

“Yeah, for example.”

“Or is because he is richer and more handsome than I am?” Jordan sputtered out a few sounds and I tried my best not to be insulted. I knew Peter was way out of my league, and I didn’t even want him, but to have someone point it out, was not feeling very nice.

“That’s not true, that’s not what I meant at all.”

“Then what other reasons can you think of?”

“Well, you could do way better than him!” This was the first time I saw Jordan not be cool, calm and collected around me. His cheeks were red, he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he was shuffling his feet. It was new to me, and I was very curious as to where this was coming from and where it would lead to.

“Is that so? Like who?” He looked at me for a few seconds, then leaned towards me and quickly pressed his lips to mine, surprising me completely. It didn’t even last a second, but it felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment. I looked at him, the blush back on my face and I softly touched my lips, where the feeling of his was still lingering. My stomach twisted and turned in the most pleasurable way and I smiled in astonishment.

“Someone like me,” He then said softly. He fumbled with his hands, until I wrapped mine around them.

“How about dinner tomorrow night,” I asked, causing the biggest and sincerest smile on his face.

“Yeah. Dinner would be very nice. Pick you up at seven?”

When I went off shift the next morning, I still felt like I was walking on sunshine. Jordan and I would be going on a date. All because he was jealous and couldn’t stand Peter being so close to me. Peter. Is that why he had smirked? Could he tell? I knew he could smell emotions like anger, was love just the same? I took my phone and called him up.

“I can’t imagine that you already took a look at those files,” he said when he picked up.

“You knew, didn’t you?” He chuckled.

“I wasn’t sure. I thought he liked Lydia, but that didn’t explain his heartbeat and that sickening gooey look on his face when he saw you last night. So it had to be you that he liked.”

“We’re going on a date tonight.”

“You’re welcome.”

#jordan parrish #jordan parrish x reader #reader #teen wolf #teenwolf fanfic #fanfic #jordan parrish fanfic #fluff #jealousy #peter hale #nurse!reader

339 notes · View notes

emmaswanchoosesyou · 7 years

Text

Part of the Narrative (5/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Story warnings: sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, violence, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: It gets porny. And a surprise shows up.

Time to smut it up! And just know that your comments and likes and kudos and reblogs have been cherished and squealed over. Thank you to all the wonderful peeps at @captainswanbigbang for all you’ve done to make this possible, and all the support you’ve given. Sophie @shady-swan-jones made the delightful banner and another photoset that I adore. Kayla @bleebug did some incredible art for the first chapter, which you can check out here. And all the love and thanks to Kris @sambethe for beta-ing this and making it a ton better.

[Ch. 1] [2] [3] [4]

Chapter 5

Emma and Killian go on their first date, and Emma reflects on the connection between them. A surprise visitor shows up, but what do they want?

Emma

Emma took a deep breath as she surveyed herself in the mirror. She knew she looked good, and for the price of her red Herve Leger bandage dress, she’d better. She had left her hair down, curling around her shoulders in a way she knew was fetching.

And she needed it. Needed every bit of confidence she could summon. Killian Jones was...a lot. In a good way, and she was excited, but...she was also nervous.

He was good-looking, intelligent, and talented. All of it made him feel a little out of her league, her recent successes notwithstanding. She knew she was smart, talented, and attractive, too. But part of her--a large part of her--would probably always feel like the orphan she was. A lost girl. Unwanted. Alone.

Then it turned out that the connection she’d felt with Killian was based on more than just pure lust or attraction. He was...he was like her. He’d had a brother, sure, but he’d lost him too.

After their first meeting, she had done her homework on him. She’d found out about the accident, about Milah, about everything that was available to the public. In a way, it had humanized him. Plus, Ruby had told her he’d holed up at Granny’s for days waiting for a chance to speak to her. His professionalism and hard work over the subsequent weeks had further softened her enough that by the time they met so she could hand over her initial materials, she was ready to be friendly. It had felt easy.

And then he sent that damn email.

She had already decided a friendship with him was something she wanted, but to see how very much they had in common--well, it changed things. He clearly understood where she was coming from, and his concern over whether he was crossing a line had been endearing. She hadn’t been able to respond right away, lost in her own emotions. Emma had had a restless night of tossing and turning as she tried to figure out how she wanted to reply. As dawn approached, she finally acknowledged to herself how attracted she was to him. That, on top of everything else they had in common, she wanted to explore what was or could be there, if given the chance.

Whatever was between them, Emma hadn’t felt anything like it for the better part of a decade. And even then, it was different from what it had been like with Neal.

Neal. Emma fought the urge to push away thoughts of him as she had for the past eleven years. Killian’s email to her had been bold, vulnerable. He deserved the same kind of honesty in return. If he wanted to be involved with her, maybe she should share...no, she decided with a shake of her head, it wasn’t time.

She felt the uncertainty of a first date rising in her chest. It had been so long since she’d done this, and the last time had been a disaster. And that had been without any feelings of any kind, at least on her end.

How did people do this? Date? Tell others about their lives, about what mattered to them? What was in their hearts? The best way Emma had to express herself was through her books. Writing it down, it made it easier. Sharing her past, her life, was hard. When she had time to mull over what she was saying, though, and how to say it, when she didn’t have to look the person in the eye as they found out what a mess she was--that was easier.

And with as rough a start as she and Killian had gotten off to, it was probably better to play it cool, let him see some of the best of her. Hell, he’d already figured out she had been in the system, she didn’t need to tell him all the dirty details of what had gone down when she was seventeen. At least not for now.

Giving herself a final approving look and tugging on her dress, Emma buzzed Killian up. She took a deep breath and smiled, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

&&&

Emma opened the door to Killian’s smiling face. “Hello, Swan.”

“Killian,” she began, pausing when she saw his attire. Jesus H. Christ. His usual trousers and button ups were hot, but this...the tight jeans, the leather vest and jacket over a dark button-up...it did things to her.

His nervous grin morphed into a smirk. “I know.” He held out a single red rose to her.

She rolled her eyes as she took the it from him, teasing him lightly. “So modest.”

“Well, it behooves a man to be self-aware,” he said.

She smiled and stepped back, dropping the rose into one of the little milk glass vases she had out on the console table in the hallway. When she turned back around, Killian was still smiling at her. He shook his head.

“Emma...if I forget to say it the rest of the evening, it’s only because I’m too gobsmacked. You look stunning.”

Her lips curved gently. “Thanks. You ready to go? What’s the plan?”

His eyes trailed down her form, lingering on the way the dress clung to her curves. “Give me a minute to appreciate this dress,” he said, reaching out to her, “and then we’ll head to dinner. I made us reservations at one of my favorite places.”

Emma snorted at his ill-disguised lust. “Cool it, Tiger.”

He met her eyes and feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, right,” she said, taking the arm he offered her.

They made their way outside, and Emma tried to ignore how hyper-aware she was of the way his jacket brushed against her bare arm, the heady scent of the cologne he wore, and, really, just how overwhelming Killian himself was.

She started to head toward the T, but he led her to a black Town Car instead. “This way, Swan.”

“Ooh, fancy. Bringing out the big guns, huh?”

“It was no trouble, and you deserve it. Also, the T smells.” He smiled and winked at her.

She couldn’t help it, she laughed happily as she slipped into the car, Killian sliding in next to her as she moved over. “Okay, it totally does. But it’s really not a big deal most of the time.”

“Is that how you get around the city? I’d think you’d want a vehicle of your own.”

Jeez, was her independent streak that visible to the naked eye?

“Oh, I have a car. My old ‘73 Bug,” she said, hoping the nostalgia and melancholy weren’t completely written on her face. “I’ve put a lot of work into that car, but honestly? Walking or taking the T is easier most of the time.”

“I get that. It runs fairly smoothly, even if it isn’t quite at the level of the Tube.”

She bumped his shoulder where he sat next to her. “Hey, don’t mock Boston. It might not be London, but it has a lot to offer.”

His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “That it does.”

Emma blushed. “Anyway, where are we headed?”

“I read excellent things about SRV. Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it too, but haven’t been. Shit, am I overdressed?”

“You look perfect. Just dressed enough, in fact,” he said, winking salaciously.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

He leaned into her space. “Cute, am I? Not dashingly handsome, or a rakish rapscallion?”

She gave him an evaluating once-over. “You may have a whole pirate thing going--”

“Ah! The whole Captain Hook imagery, aye?” Killian asked, holding up his prosthetic hand.

“--but just so you know, I don’t pillage and plunder on the first date,” she said, ignoring his interruption.

His answering grin was nothing short of wolfish. “That’s because you haven’t been out with me.”

“Getting cocky, aren’t you?” She pressed two fingers into his shoulder, prodding him back to his side of the car. “No, don’t even go there, Captain Innuendo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Low-hanging fruit and all, you know,” he drawled, but his eyes were crinkled in amusement and he was clearly fighting off a smirk.

She just shook her head at him and faced forward.

&&&

Once they arrived, Killian helped her out of the car and into the restaurant. He’d clearly requested one of the quieter tables toward the back, and Emma appreciated the relative privacy.

“This is lovely, Killian. Thank you.”

“I told you I know how to plan a date, Swan.”

“So you do,” she said, smirking at him. “Lots of practice, huh?”

He scratched behind his ear nervously. “I won’t deny that I did back in the day, but not much since I lost my love, or before that, my hand.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. Foot in mouth disease is definitely a problem of mine. Just...ignore me.”

“No, Emma, it’s fine, really. A lot of people seem to know about Milah and what happened, I just don’t always know who. And I don’t mind speaking of it as much now, unless it bothers you.”

She met his eyes, the earnest look in them making her smile turn a little melancholy and wistful. She knew the whos and whats of the story, but not the feelings behind it. “You must have loved her very much.”

“Aye. And part of me always will. I just...I never dreamed I’d be capable of moving on. Not until very recently.”

Equal parts nerves and excitement rose in her at what she thought he was implying, what he might mean. “Recently, huh?”

He reached across the table for her hand and intertwined their fingers. “Well, I won’t deny that a certain fiery lass with a penchant for writing bestsellers has had something do it. But it--you--helped me see that maybe I’m not the only one suffering. I had been rather self-involved in my grief.”

She nodded in understanding, her nervousness abating. “I know what you mean. In the thick of it, it’s hard to remember that other people are just out there living their lives, some of which are filled with just as much pain and shit as your own.”

“Indeed.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “So...you figured out I was in the system.”

“Like calls to like,” he said, dipping his head in acknowledgment and rubbing his thumb along hers.

“I was in it from the time I was a baby. I was found on the side of the road, and while I was almost adopted a couple of times, it never panned out. I stayed until I was about sixteen, when...I just left.”

His eyes softened. “I can’t imagine being in it that long. It must have been....”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing away from the table.

“Well,” He squeezed her hand and she turned back to him. ”If you don’t mind my saying so, you turned out remarkably well.”

Emma shook her head at him. “Is this the part where you get all flirtatious again?”

“I can if you’d like, but I meant it. Lasting that long in the system has clearly made you very resilient.”

She flushed and shifted uncomfortably. “Thanks. I mean, you obviously know how it goes.”

“Differences between our two countries notwithstanding, yes.” He looked thoughtful, his eyes distant even as they remained on her.

A not entirely awkward silence fell between them and the server came by for their orders. Sipping at her wine--a delightful red from a Tuscan vineyard she couldn't pronounce--Emma cocked her head at Killian. “So what brought you here? London is a pretty hopping town for publishing. Not that I'm not glad you're here…”

A flash of something like discomfort crossed his face, but he replied, “Ah, after Milah passed away, I needed a change. I knew August, and things just...fell together.”

His reply felt a little off, but Emma didn't get the sense he was exactly lying to her. Well, if he was leaving something out, that was his business. She wasn't exactly scrambling to tell him the most painful things in her life either, so she ignored the twinge in her gut and smiled at him.

“Well, I'm glad you’re here.”

“As am I, lass. Oh bugger it, Emma. Sorry.”

She laughed at him. “It’s fine, honestly. It’s different now that it’s not so--I don’t know, we know each other a little better now.”

“And I’d like to know you better still.”

She grinned. “Smooth, Jones, smooth.”

He grinned back at her, eyes twinkling. “I try.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she muttered to herself.

He lifted her hand to his lips and she drew in a breath as he pressed the lightest of kisses to her knuckles.

“It’s interesting, you know? Being successful, fairly happy, in a place like this...with someone like you,” she said, gesturing toward him.

He smirked, cockiness evident in the way he leaned further across the table.

Emma continued, “I mean it. Like, I was always poor, barely scraping by. All the other kids seemed to look down on me. And now I’m here. That little bit of luck, the support of Granny and Ruby, and some hard work. I don’t know, it’s just odd.” She gave a small shrug. “In a good way.”

That indefinable something crossed his face again, but he nodded. “I think I know what you mean. ‘There but for the grace of God, go I’ and all that.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you and Ruby are close then?”

She snorted. “Figured that one out from that visit, did you?”

Killian tried winking at her, a pitiful attempt that was somehow endearing. “Aye, I might have.”

“Yeah, I started working for Granny when I was eighteen…” she said, slipping easily into the story of how she’d come to know the Lucases, and how much they meant to her.

Their food came, and the conversation didn’t slow. Emma was amazed by how at ease she felt around him. She hated that the evening would eventually have to come to an end.

&&&

Hours later, once their meal had ended and they had taken a walk along the Charles River, he flagged a cab for them to take her back to her apartment building. He walked her to the building’s entry, holding her hand the entire time.

Her stomach fluttered the entire walk to the door and she struggled to identify the emotions swirling around her. Giddy. That’s what this feeling was.

“I had a lovely time, Emma,” he said as let go of her hand and pulled the door open for her.

“I did too.” She smiled and took his hand again as she passed. “If you wanted to do this again…”

“I do. Definitely,” he said quickly.

When they reached the elevator, he stopped, looking nervous as he bit at his lower lip. He glanced down at her, seeming indecisive as his gaze drifted to her own lips.

Emma made up her mind for them, and tangled her hand in the open collar of his shirt, pulling him close for a kiss. It started out feverishly intense, and as his tongue met hers, she felt want rising in her. When oxygen became an issue, she pulled back, trailing her fingernails down through the chest hair on display. He shivered, and she took a moment to enjoy how unsteady he looked.

“Do you want to come upstairs for...coffee?”

His eyes darkened and he drew in a shuddering breath. “Aye.”

Killian followed her into her apartment, glancing around at the rather spartan environs as she moved him toward the living room. His eyes fell on her beloved chair, almost as if he recognized it, and he nodded approvingly, seeming ready to comment on it when Emma pulled him onto the couch.

Judging by his silence and the bobbing of his throat, she didn’t think he was about to say anything about the texture of the upholstery. She widened her grin and swung her leg over him so that she was straddling his lap. He gulped as she dragged her lips along his jawline and she hesitated, his seeming reticence making her wonder if he wanted this, if he was ready for it.

(God, she was. Almost embarrassingly so.)

Then the indecision left his expression, and he settled his prosthetic around her waist while he cupped the back of her head with his other hand, pulling her closer to him. Their lips met, and all rational thought flew right out the window.

He kissed her fiercely, hungrily, and she gave as good as she got. He traced his tongue along her lips, and she opened to him. His arms tightened around her as she pulled away and nipped at his bottom lip before throwing herself back into their kiss.

Killian moaned into it, and Emma couldn’t help herself. She rocked her hips against his, the beginnings of his arousal pressing into her and turning her on even more. Normally, this would be the part where she demanded they take off their clothes and get on with it, but this...she didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. Killian would still be there tomorrow, still be part of her life. It was equal parts comforting and thrilling, and she channeled her nerves into further deepening their kiss. She used it to fuel the desperation and passion as she moved against him.

Her dress had ridden up around her hips, and Killian ran his hand down her bare thigh, even as moved away from her lips to trail his mouth along her neck. He nipped at the soft skin, then soothing it with his tongue before moving on. She could feel him straining against her, his erection pressing hard against her core as he thrust up against her.

Just a few layers of fabric, Emma thought a little frantically, and we’d be...She forced the thought to fade, determined to make this last, to enjoy the moment.

She realized that while she had definitely enjoyed his attentions, she had been neglecting exploration of her own. And damn did she want to explore. She shifted in Killian’s lap, and he groaned loudly at her movements.

She shifted and pushed him back so he was lying down on the couch, and she leaned over him, nipping at his ear, tracing its pointed tip with her tongue. His hand tightened around her hip before drifting to her ass. He squeezed lightly, and Emma giggled in his ear before gently biting his stubbled chin.

“God, Emma, you’re a marvel…”

“Mmm…”

Emma was making her way down his neck, pressing lingering kisses to his throat as she drifted down to his exposed collarbones. She had never been more grateful for such an apparent hatred of buttons as she was now, and she sucked a mark into the hollow between his collarbone and shoulder. He hoarsely voiced his enthusiastic approval.

She didn’t stop rubbing herself against him, and he continued to thrust up against her. She shuddered as he did, fairly certain this would be the first time since she was a teenager that she was going to come from dry humping. She was beyond caring at the moment though, because if Killian was this good now, she could only imagine later, when they’d be naked in her bed…

She shuddered in his arms at the thought, pleasure starting to fog her brain as the ridge of his erection pressed along her clit. Then he pulled down the straps of her dress, one at a time. She had to take a breath as the cool air of her apartment hit her breasts.

“Christ, love,” he moaned, his fingers hovering at where the edge of dress hung at her ribs. “You were naked under this dress the whole night?”

She hummed, shifting against him, hoping to encourage him to touch her. “Well, I’m wearing underwear, but yeah.” She had to stop herself from rambling, knowing it would just lead to the mood being killed. And she was so close...

Killian was still staring at her exposed breasts. He looked positively gobsmacked, but Emma wanted--no, needed--more. “You gonna stare all day or actually going to do something about it?”

His eyes snapped up to hers, and he grinned. “Patience, Swan. I like to take my time…” He began a series of light kisses starting at the corner of her mouth, down the center of her chest. “...savor the best things,” he said, nosing along the curve of her breast, his breath warm on her skin, “and make sure we both get what we want.” At that, he closed his mouth over her nipple, biting lightly as he reached up to caress the other with his hand.

She couldn’t hold in her loud moan. Desire for him consumed her, sweeping through her as she clenched her thighs around his hips. “Mmm, Killian, I need…”

“You’re so lovely, Emma. You feel so good. Tell me what you need.”

Instead of answering him in words, she pulled away and made quick work of his vest. She started on his shirt, her movements hampered by the attention he was still lavishing on her chest. She had just succeeded in removing his shirt when a loud knock sounded at the door.

Emma stilled, and Killian pulled back, taking a deep breath. “Swan?”

“I don’t know. If we’re really quiet, maybe they’ll go away,” she whispered.

He chuckled quietly and shook his head against her chest, pressing another kiss to the inside of her breast.

Another loud knock sounded, and she let out frustrated breath as she pulled up the top of her dress, tugging it back to decency before sliding off his lap. Killian sighed, pulling on his shirt and placing one of the couch’s throw pillows in his lap to hide his very obvious erection.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long, Emma thought desperately, straightening out her skirt as she walked toward the door.

She looked through the peephole, surprised to see a young boy at the door. He looked oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Knowing her tone was a little rude (but hey, it was late and holy interruption hell), she opened the door and gritted out, “Yes?”

“Are you Emma Swan?”

“I am,” she said cautiously, glancing back at Killian. Who the hell was this kid? A fan? He seemed a little young...

“I’m Henry Mills, and I’m pretty sure I’m the kid you gave up for adoption eleven years ago.”

#cs ff #csbb #captain swan #cs mc ff #cs au #cs crew #amber writes #part of the narrative #i hope you all enjoy this chapter!#if you did please come scream at/with me

61 notes · View notes

violetflowersandflames · 7 years

Text

My first part for the LGBT+ BNHA Exchange! <3 The person I got was @tsuyusochako who asked for Tododeku, Tsuchako and Momojirou! Since you also said that any girl ships are ok, I hope it's alright that I added some MinaMomoJirou in this instead of just Momojirou! Also the characters are aged up a bit in this to be in their late teens/early twenties.

Pairings: Tododeku, MinaMomoJirou, Side Tsuchako

Summary: On his way back home, Midoriya finds himself caught out in the woods during a storm. He takes refuge in an old castle he stumbles across and ends up meeting a strange but intriguing man by the name of Shouto.

Midoriya stood outside an old stone castle. The iron gate loomed before him looking sharp and uninviting. He shivered, pulling his cloak tighter around himself.

He'd never seen this place before in all his years of traveling through the forest to town. Didn't even know it existed. His nerves screamed at him to turn and flee, not to go in.

A loud crack of thunder sounded, and lighting lit up the sky. The howls of wolves carried in the wind, and he shuddered, this time not from the cold. Deciding it would be better to go in than stay out here with the storm and the beasts, he entered the castle.

---

The doors creaked open. Inside was dark, and he wondered if it was abandoned.

"Hello?" He called. No one answered. He hung up his cloak on the rack by the door and headed up the staircase at the end of the entrance hall, clutching the rail with a clenched fist, his knuckles turning white.

This was all so strange. So eerie. If not for the storm and the wolves outside, he would never have entered this place. He'd heard many a tale about the monsters which lived in this forest, and the terrible fates which befell those who crossed them. He wondered if he should have stayed downstairs to wait out the storm and the night, leaving as soon as the sun rose. However, something about this place drew him in, fascinated him.

And so he stupidly wandered through the halls despite the alarm bells ringing in his head.

Most of the doors he found locked, but one at the end of the hall was ajar, soft light pouring into the hallway. He made his way towards it and pushed it open to find a small bedroom, empty save for a small, neatly made bed and a little desk on which sat a lamp.

Midoriya sat down on the bed, deciding that while he was stuck here and had already entered the castle anyways, he may as well get comfortable. He found himself laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, listening to the distant rumble of thunder and howling of wolves.

---

The first thing that Midoriya noticed as he stirred awake was that the temperature of the room had dropped. The second was that it was much, much darker.

He jolted up and looked around. The light on the stand had been put out, and a curtain had been drawn over the window making it impossible to tell the time of day. Midoriya bit his trembling lip. Someone must have been in here, then, while he was asleep.

"You're awake." A calm, cold voice spoke. Midoriya stiffened. Out of the shadows stepped a young man his age. The man had strange white hair and two sharp blue eyes. His skin was pale as death.

He took Midoriya's hand in his own, and Midoriya shivered at how cold it was. Like ice. Midoriya drew his hand away and backed up as far as he could from the stranger.

"I'm sorry for trespassing! I'll leave right away!" Midoriya stammered, terror in his voice. Not only had he passed out in a castle he'd mistaken as vacant, the owner - who was unlike any man he'd ever met - had returned and caught him.

The boy’s hair and eyes were abnormal, and his skin may as well have been ice. Granted, he was quite handsome - and Midoriya found himself blushing at this - but the whole situation was strange and too much to handle. It did not help that the man betrayed almost no emotion, a calm and unemotional expression on his face.

Midoriya found himself frozen as the man caught his wrist, and it felt as if his skin had been turned to ice at his touch.

"Please don't run. I'm not mad." The man spoke, and Midoriya found himself believing his words. "There must be a reason you took refuge in my house. Allow me to treat you to a meal before you're on your way. Besides, this is the guest room anyway, so you did not disturb anyone as my last one left just the other day, and I live all alone."

Midoriya hesitated. He didn't know this man and if he could be trusted, but he sounded sincere.

And so he agreed.

---

Mina limped back to the castle, cursing her luck. It was just like Kaminari and Bakugou to get into a quarrel in the middle of a hunt and throw all of them off their game.

Aside from the nasty bruise she'd received from where the damn deer had kicked her leg, she was unharmed. Of course all her muscles hurt like a bitch from the strain of last night and the transformation.

She was also in desperate need of a shower.

She pushed the gate open and climbed the steps of the castle up to the front door. As she opened the door, she was nearly tackled back down the stone steps by her two girlfriends.

"Mina, we were worried sick! You're back later than usual. Are you quite alright?" Momo was speaking, the vampire's words rushing out of her mouth.

"I told Momo you'd be fine." Jirou rolled her eyes. The shorter girl stood with her arms crossed, although Mina detected the worry in her voice. "You're a werewolf, after all."

"The biggest and baddest around." Mina chuckled and winced as she tried to step forward. Jirou's eyes flew to the wound on her leg and upon seeing it were filled with concern. Momo glanced down, noticed the nasty bruise, and her normally black eyes flashed red.

"You hurt yourself!"

"I'm alright." Mina tried to wave her off and yelped as the taller woman slung an arm around her to help her into the castle. Jirou supported Mina's other side, helping her as well. Mina flushed, her pink skin becoming an even darker shade, and her bushy tail wagging.

"I'm fine both of you. Really."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until we get you cleaned up." Momo snapped. Mina looked at Jirou, trying to beg the smaller human for help with her eyes. Jirou only shook her head, and Mina bit back a sigh.

As always, there was no arguing with Momo.

---

"I see. So you were on your way back to your house from the town?" The man who had introduced himself as Shouto asked. Midoriya nodded.

"Again, if not for the storm, I would have never intruded. I apologize again." He stood and started to bow. Shouto strode forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

"It's no trouble at all. I'd be pleased if you visited again." Midoriya blushed at his words. While Shouto's skin remained as pale as before, Midoriya noticed that he averted his eyes and seemed almost nervous. "That is, if you'd like to."

"I'd love to!" Midoriya exclaimed, then flushed. "If it's alright."

"Of course." Shouto nodded, a smile twitching at his lips. He bid Midoriya farewell, careful to stay in the shadow of the doorway as the man grabbed his cloak and descended the steps. At the bottom of them, he turned and waved. Shouto waved back, a warm feeling rising in his chest. Then, he shut the door and headed back to his study.

Shouto attempted to read the book Momo had recommended to him, but found his thoughts returning to Midoriya. It wasn't that he did not believe the man, but he doubted he would return.

He wasn't sure what had stopped him from turning the man into another one of his victims. He could rule it off as not being hungry - he had feasted earlier after all, and neither he nor Momo liked to kill for sport unlike others of their kind. Perhaps it was curiosity? Aside from Jirou, no human had ventured into his home of their own free will.

Either this man was very brave or very stupid, and Shouto had waited for him to awaken to see which it was.

When he had awoken, he seemed startled. But not so much scared of what Shouto was than at the fact he was there. Shouto wasn't sure what compelled him to sit down and converse with the man, but through their conversation, he had discovered that Midoriya had no inkling of what he was or what he might be. Sure, he had seemed on edge, but it was more at the fact he'd trespassed and once he realized Shouto was not mad, he had relaxed and opened up to Shouto about his house, his life apart from the rest of the village, his single mother who reminded Shouto of his own and caused his heart - if he still had one - to ache.

He was a fool to invite him back.

"Shouto. Shouto!" Shouto jumped. He looked up from his book to see Momo, Mina and Jirou crowded around him. Mina wasn't wearing her shirt which did not surprise him especially considering they were in the full moon phase and clothes tended to irritate her. What did surprise him was the bandages wrapped around her leg.

"Mina, are you alright?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Perfectly fine!" She flashed a grin and gave him a thumbs' up. "Momo went a bit overboard with the bandages."

"Forgive me for being concerned." Momo huffed, and Shouto and Jirou both stifled their laughter. Momo tilted her head, her eyes on Shouto like a hawk's on its prey. "What was on your mind just now that I had to shout to draw your attention?"

Shouto felt his insides turn to ice. He looked down at his book so not to betray his emotions.

"Nothing." He snuck a glance at Momo. She didn't look convinced but did not press.

Mina sniffed the air. Her wolfish ears twitched as she did, and she cocked her head.

"I smell a human."

"It must be Jirou." Shouto lied, and Mina shook her head.

"I know Jirou's scent." She smiled at Jirou and bent down to give the girl a quick peck on the cheek. Jirou's face turned bright red. "It's not Jirou."

"Well then you must be mistaken, since she is the only live human here." Mina bristled, and Momo put a hand on her shoulder and steered her away. Jirou followed them. Shouto breathed a sigh of relief once they'd left.

He truly had made a mistake in inviting Midoriya back.

---

"Is Shouto acting weird or is it just me?" Mina grumbled. The werewolf was curled up next to her girlfriends on the couch in the living room after Momo had led her out of the room before she could do anything that she would regret.

Momo pet her head, ruffling her hair and scratching behind her ears. Mina whined at the touch, a smile tugging at her face.

"Did you really smell another human?" Jirou asked, shifting in Mina's lap. Mina nodded, whimpering as Momo moved on to scratch under her chin.

"Mm-hmm. I know your scent." Mina wrapped her arms around Jirou and squeezed her. "And I know the smell of death. There's a live human somewhere near. Or at least there was not too long ago."

"Shouto will reveal what it is when he's ready." Momo clicked her tongue. "Besides, we owe him for letting us keep Jirou here with us. As our friend and our protector, I won't question him." Mina made a small noise but did not protest.

Momo's mind reeled back to when they had found Jirou about a year ago.

Jirou had been in the woods, lost, when Mina came across her. Despite Mina's wolfish appearance, Jirou hadn't screamed or ran or hurled insults, and Mina had mistook her as an odd smelling vampire, unable to believe she was a human. Momo had been baffled when the werewolf had returned with a human in tow, but as Jirou had lived alone and was an outcast to her village, she fit in with the other two girls.

Momo had worried about Shouto's reaction, but he had allowed her to stay, with the condition that she be given a choker to wear to cover her neck. Momo understood his taking precautions, and so they complied. Jirou did not seem to mind this, admitting she actually liked the piece of jewelry, and while she and Shouto did not talk much, they were on good terms.

And so Momo would not question him and would trust that whatever he was hiding was with good reason.

---

Midoriya continued to visit the castle. Shouto would dine with him although the vampire himself did not eat, and the two would walk together through the castle and in the evenings, Shouto accompanied him in the woods. While he would bid Midoriya farewell at a certain point, he continued to follow the boy in the form of a bat, hiding in the shadows, in order to ensure he returned home safe.

He still kept the man from Momo, Mina and Jirou though he suspected the three girls knew. However he did not want to startle or overwhelm Midoriya nor did he want to give him the wrong idea. Whatever the reason, the two never seemed to encounter them, and something told him that Momo was the cause of this.

"When I showed him the library for the first time, his face lit up." Shouto recounted the event to Tsuyu and Ochako. Tsuyu was a creature with gills covered in wet, dark green scales and who lived in the pond hidden behind the castle. Her girlfriend, Ochako, was a witch and an old acquaintance of Shouto's. She frequented the castle often and had been the one staying in the room that Midoriya had fallen asleep in - she tended to leave the lamp on without realizing it which was a minor annoyance to him, but her cheerful personality more than made up for it, and he enjoyed having her over.

Ochako was braiding Tsuyu's long, wet hair, smiling and nodding as he told the story.

"That's wonderful, Shouto! You seem quite taken with this human." If Shouto could blush, he would have at this statement. The vampire looked down and fidgeted with his hands.

"I do enjoy his company. While I love the others, it's nice having someone like him to spend time with and gives me a new perspective."

"Oh, Shouto. I love hearing about this mystery human of yours who you are definitely not in love with, no not at all, even though you keep inviting him back and spending more time with him than you even spend with us." Ochako shook her head, giggling, and Tsuyu croaked with laughter. Shouto felt a smile tug at his lips. While he would never admit it to them, he did enjoy Ochako's teasing.

And she wasn't entirely wrong.

---

Shouto was waiting for Midoriya in the entrance hall, casting glances at the old grandfather clock in the corner. The man was later than usual. He felt a sinking fear that something was wrong but shook his head. He was just late was all.

Half an hour passed, and his worry grew. Perhaps he had something to take care of? He could've just been late or busy today. Certain it was one of these things but wanting to be sure, he headed outside and into the woods as the sun began to set.

Shouto heard a shout from deeper in the woods as he made his way towards Midoriya's house and stiffened. His sensitive ears pricked at the sounds of a struggle, and he raced towards the source of the noise. There, what he saw made him feel frozen in fear and red hot anger all at once.

A blonde female vampire had pinned Midoriya down on the forest floor. Her teeth were bared, dangerously close to his neck.

Snarling, Shouto raced at her. She leapt up at the sound, golden eyes alight with malice and getting into a fighting position.

"Midoriya!" Shouto cried. Midoriya tried to pull himself to his feet and collapsed, panting hard and weakened from the attack. He cocked his head, fixing his gaze on Shouto.

"Shouto? As in the Vampire Prince Todoroki Shouto?" The blonde asked. For a moment, she seemed shocked and almost afraid. Then, her glare hardened, and her mouth turned upwards into a smirk. "The runaway prince? This is my meal. Go find your own to snack on."

"Vampire?" Shouto heard Midoriya groan. Shouto scowled, fear rising in him, and he rounded on the girl.

"I am not a prince, and he is not a meal." The girl's eyes flew wide open. She tilted her head and chuckled softly. Then, she erupted into laughter, clutching her sides as she fell to the ground.

"Not only do you give up your title," she choked out between fits of laughter as she staggered to her feet, "but you fraternize with humans?"

Shouto lunged at her while she was off guard. She let out a surprised shriek and jumped back but was not quick enough. The two grappled with each other, fangs bared and nails scratching into the other's pale skin. At last, she managed to get away, clutching her arm which bore a nasty scar from where his nail had pierced her skin. She hissed at him and spat before turning into a bat and flying off.

Shouto ran to Midoriya's side, reached out for him to help him up, then flinched. Midoriya knew he was a vampire now. No doubt he'd hate him. Never want anything to do with him. All their time together, all these months, all had ended in a waste.

"Are you gonna help me up?" Midoriya chuckled weakly, his face flushed. He looked shaken but unharmed. Shouto hurried to help him up, Midoriya's hand warm in his own.

Midoriya brushed the dirt off his clothes and tilted his head, staring at Shouto. The vampire refused to look at the man.

"So you're a vampire?" Shouto nodded curtly at his question.

"I understand if you wish to end our association. But at least allow me to escort you safely home, it's the least I could do-" He stopped as Midoriya took his hand and squeezed it.

"Hey, don't say that. We're friends, aren't we? I always knew your hand felt way too cold and your skin too pale for you to be human. And you're way more handsome. Wait, no, forget I said that last part." Midoriya let out an embarrassed laugh, the words rushing out as his face flushed red, and Shouto found a soft chuckle escape his lips. He squeezed Midoriya's hand back.

"Are you sure you're alright with this? With me?"

"Let's see. After allowing me to stay the night at your house and giving me a meal when I had no right to be there, inviting me over and protecting me from that other vampire? Of course I am." Midoriya smiled at him, and Shouto swore he felt his heart race even though he knew that was impossible.

Perhaps things could work out for them after all.

#lgbtbnhaexchange #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #Fanfiction #Tododeku #MinaMomoJirou #Tsuchako

46 notes · View notes

osirisapollo · 7 years

Text

Black Sheep

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel

Wolf Dean, Sheep Castiel Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Sassy Castiel, Gentle Dean, Fluff, Smut

Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Self-Lubrication, Topping from the Bottom, Mating, Biting, Marking, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Knotting, Porn with Feelings, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending

Summary: In a world full of shifters, there is a natural hierarchy. The predators have always stood firmly on the top. But the world is evolving, and new laws are in place to unify the different species. In populated areas integration comes easily, but in rural areas the groups are more isolated. Castiel, a sheep-shifter, grew up in the pasture. Considered prey, he gets to reap most of the benefits of this new world. The only problem: it seems as though the local wolves are having a hard time fighting their animal instincts.

Read it on AO3

Castiel was grazing quietly on the hillside, his wool a little thicker than it should be for the time of year. It was a little warmer than he would like, but the gentle breeze that occasionally swept through the pasture was enough to keep him at a pleasant temperature.

The pasture was Castiel’s favorite place. He loved the sunshine on his back, no matter how warm it happened to be with his heavier coat. He loved how green the grass was here, giving it a much more refreshing taste. And he loved how free he felt.

He was relaxed and happy when he was this far back in the pasture, which is why he didn’t instantly connect the dots when the soft breeze carried in a familiar smell. Castiel discreetly scented the air, freezing when he recognized the aroma. Wolf. He was being hunted.

He’d wandered too far from the flock, and now he was going to pay the price. Castiel stood fixed in place, weighing his options. He had two: head toward his family, in the hope of saving himself, or lead the wolf astray, in the hope of saving his family. So, really, only one option. Before he even realized he’d come to a decision, his body was reacting, and his legs were carrying him farther away from the area he knew his flock was located.

Castiel was well aware that fleeing was the worst possible way to react to a wolf. It couldn’t help but pursue; the wolf’s instincts mandated it. It was something that had been drilled into his head since he was a lamb, well before he’d developed his wool. But it had also been drilled into him that you never left the flock; which just goes to show how well he’d listened.

The wolf, he knew was still watching him, didn’t immediately give chase. He knew that didn’t mean the beast was letting him get away. It could afford to wait. It was much faster than he could ever hope to be.

Regardless of his shorter legs and slower nature, Castiel was over the hill in seconds. He could no longer smell the wolf, but he knew that didn’t mean he was safe. Even as the thought occurred to him, he saw the canine bound over the hill, grinning in that way wolves had. It’s tongue waved from it’s mouth as it followed, clearly enjoying the chase.

Castiel ran as hard as his legs could allow. His heart was pounding so hard he felt his wool must be pulsing with it. His breathing was fast and irregular, but he didn’t have the time or concentration to steady it. Castiel needed to get farther from his family before the wolf could catch up.

He took a brief moment to wonder if he could go faster if he transformed but immediately pushed the thought from his mind. Four legs were better than two.

There was a forest ahead, and Castiel headed toward it, even knowing the beast would have the advantage there. The wolf was gaining swiftly, anyway. He knew there was no chance of escape.

As soon as he reached the treeline, he zigged and he zagged, but the wolf only plowed onwards, completely unhindered by the trees. If only Castiel hadn’t skipped his last shearing, he might have made it through faster. As it was, his wool caught on branches and brambles, and it slowed him even more than the unfamiliar terrain under his hooves.

Although he knew all his efforts were for naught, he was still disappointed as he felt the tension in the air right before the wolf leapt upon him. The beast’s strong jaws came down around his neck, and even the fluffiness of his unshorn wool could not have stopped those teeth from reaching their target.

As a last ditch effort, he decided to transform. His legs lengthened and his torso shrunk until the wolf’s jaws were wrapped around his very human neck.

The wolf pulled back instantly.

Then, just as suddenly, the wolf was gone. His wheat field colored fur faded into tan skin, and dirty blonde hair. He was only slightly out of breath as he stared down at Castiel from his kneeling position.

“Jesus, Cas! Don’t do that while I’ve got you captured! I could have broken your neck without even tying!” The man’s voice was rich, and caused an unwarranted shiver to run down the sheep-shifter’s spine.

Castiel found himself smiling up at the man, meeting the gaze of his gorgeous green eyes. “But you wouldn’t have.” He countered.

“It would have been an accident, but it could have happened!” The man insisted, glaring at the smile on his face.

“But it didn’t.” He stated, carelessly, with a shrug.

The man glared harder at Castiel. “Do you really want to take that risk?”

Castiel sighed. “Dean, every second I spend with you is a risk.” He didn’t mean to sound unkind, but it was the truth. Instead of letting the mood turn with those thoughts, he grinned. “Besides, if you kill me, who will you chase around the countryside?”

Dean rolled his eyes, sitting back on his heels and helping the sheep sit up. “There are other sheep in the field, you know.”

Castiel held back his comments about the likelihood of Dean finding another sheep willing to play these games with him. Most sheep were wise enough to avoid the wolves, altogether. “None as fluffy as me.” He said instead, raising his chin as if he was proud of that fact.

Dean’s grin turned wolfish immediately, and he gave Castiel a once over, even though he was no longer wearing his wool. “Why are you so fluffy? I thought you had a shearing scheduled the last time I saw you.”

Castiel glared in response. “Do you remember the rest of that conversation? The one about how scars make it so my wool doesn’t grow? ”

Dean had the good grace to look a little ashamed at that, and ran his hand gently along the scar that was visible just inside Castiel’s right thigh. “Is it my fault that your thighs look delicious?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, trying desperately to fight his body’s reaction to that touch. “I know it’s some sort of wolf thing, all the biting, but my brother was doing the shearings last time. He might have got the wrong impression when these were revealed. You have to be more careful.”

Dean’s wolfish expression was back. His hand continued it’s exploration of Castiel’s thigh, clearly pleased at the reaction it was causing. “It’s weird, but I never hear you complaining until after.”

When Castiel had presented as a ewe, he’d been mortified. He had learned about male ewes, of course, but they were exceedingly rare. The idea of suffering through a heat, and producing his own slick had been embarrassing enough. It wasn’t until he’d realized he would be expected to breed that he became truly horrified.

Luckily, the new laws had already been in place by the time he’d had his first heat. The flock didn’t like it, but they were forced to obey. The ewes were kept securely away from the rams during a heat until they were of age for breeding. By the time he was of age, Castiel had been able to convince the flock to allow him to make the choice. Male ewes were thought to be only able to breed once, and he’d convinced them to allow him to choose which ram he would give that chance to. He’d been able to put off breeding for years.

It was the only time he’d been grateful for being different.

That is, until he’d met Dean.

“You’re so wet. Always so wet for me.” The wolf praised, as he ran his fingers along the the cleft of his ass, and Castiel was thankful for the slick he produced.

Dean bent his head to nuzzle the sheep’s neck, breathing deeply of his scent and moaning obscenely. Castiel had been delighted when his submissive scent had appealed to the wolf, even if he was the wrong species. Dean always smelled as if he’d dropped out of Castiel’s own personal heaven.

He couldn’t help but feel fortunate when Dean’s finger was able to slide so easily into him, all because he’d presented with the wrong secondary gender, or so he’d thought at the time.

Castiel was grateful, but the only one that knew was Dean. He was the only one that needed to know.

“Please, Dean.” He begged, groaning as another finger entered him. He begged because it was the quickest way to get Dean to respond to a request.

“You know we have to do this right, Cas. Why are you always trying to get me to rush?” Dean asked, gently. He pumped his fingers in and out a few times before curling them forward and making Castiel gasp.

“I want you inside me.” He answered, even though he knew Dean was right.

“Not yet, little lamb. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Castiel glared at the wolfish grin he was graced with. Dean knew he hated being called a lamb. That was possibly why he always waited until he thought the sheep was distracted before he ever did it.

“It’s not that big.” He retaliated, just to be an asshole.

The only response was a snort. Dean knew that wasn’t true. Before he could come up with another smart ass remark, the wolf attempted to add another finger.

“Ah!” Castiel’s hand instinctively shot out to grab the arm in an effort to make the motion stop. It already had. Dean was very good at reading his body.

“Not ready, yet?” The wolf asked, clearly trying not to sound smug about it. Even though he had every right.

“Just... go slow.” Castiel conceded, begrudgingly.

Being with a wolf wasn’t like being with a ram, something Castiel had learned the hard way. Not that Castiel had ever been with a ram before, but he knew what to expect when it happened.

Castiel’s body was equipped with everything he needed to breed with a ram. His hole, his slick, they were all designed for being mounted and bred by his own kind. It was something he’d never really thought about until the first time he’d been with Dean.

When he’d seen the monster the wolf was hiding, he’d been intimidated and fascinated in equal measure. It was possibly twice the size of anything he’d seen within his own flock. He’d even thought it would never work, but he’d been surprised to find himself willing to try, anyway.

Of course, Castiel hadn’t seen fit to inform Dean of his virgin status until after the deed was done.

The memory of the wolf’s overreaction made him smile, and he felt his muscles relax around Dean’s fingers, allowing the third one to finally enter him.

The funny part about it was that he’d thought his virgin status was the reason it had been so hard that first time. Now he knew the truth of it. He just wasn’t built to take a wolf. But he had. And he’d continued to for several months, now. It seemed like anytime he could sneak away from the flock, he’d found his hand, or his mouth, or his hole clenched around the wolf’s dick.

Dean was staring at him in the way that said he knew Castiel’s mind was wandering. He felt those fingers curl, dragging a low moan from his lips and a fresh wave of arousal through his body.

“I was thinking about when you took my virginity.” He admitted, pleased when Dean’s pupils dilated at the reminder.

Dean smiled, leaning forward to give him a lazy kiss. He nuzzled into his neck again, and Castiel felt his teeth nip on his collarbone.

“No biting!” The sheep reminded him, but his body’s reaction betrayed him, and he felt the fingers within him slip easier through the fresh slick he produced.

Dean’s grin turned wolfish again, and Castiel knew the wolf was well aware of what he really thought of the biting.

Taking advantage of the situation was Dean’s strong suit, so he gently added a fourth finger while the sheep’s body was acting so willing.

“God you’re so hot. So fucking tight.”

If anyone had ever asked Castiel, before, if he was interested in dirty talk, he would have answered with a resounding no.

“It doesn’t even matter how many times I fuck you does it? You’re gunna be this tight forever.”

But that would have been before he’d met Dean, because those dirty words, whispered directly into his ear, made him slick up faster than anything else. He made a pathetic whining noise, as his body opened farther and allowed the wolf’s fingers to move again. The wet suction noise that emitted from his body at the motion made him blush. His embarrassment deepened when Dean leaned back to get a look at his handiwork.

“Fuck, look at you.” The wolf said, staring down between Castiel’s legs where his fingers gently rocked inside him. “Stretched to your limit.”

The sheep did the only thing he could do to shut the man up, and he thrust back against those fingers. “Please, Dean!”

Dean grinned at him, moving to kiss him again, and pumped his fingers a couple of times. When the wolf finally removed them, Castiel knew he was beyond ready. Dean was always so careful to prepare him properly, and it sent a thrill down his spine to know the wolf cared so much about his comfort.

Dean brought those fingers to his face, and proceeded to lick them clean. Watching the wolf wrap his tongue around them, a shiver of arousal shot down the sheep’s spine, and fresh wave of slick warmed him.

“You taste so good.” He was teased, and the wolf shot him a predatory look. “No wonder my ancestors were so adamant about eating your kind.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, trying to hide his reaction to that image in his mind. He could almost feel the wolf’s face buried between his legs, licking up all the fluids his body had to offer. It was always amazing, but that wasn’t what he wanted right then.

“Are you going to talk, or are you going to fuck me?” He demanded, bending one of his legs to throw over Dean’s shoulder.

“Can I do both?” The wolf’s hands reached for his hips, pulling him into a better position. He gripped Castiel’s other leg and lifted it as well.

“It depends on what you say.” He quipped. His breath left him in a rush as Dean wrapped his hand around his dick, stroking it firmly.

Castiel let loose an explosive moan at the attention, but quickly slapped the man’s hand away. He was already too aroused, and he would never be able to last that way.

Dean released him without argument. He leaned forward a little to plant a kiss on his lips instead, bending the sheep nearly in half. The slow drag of his erection across Castiel’s sensitive hole had him moaning his approval.

“I will probably tell you how beautiful you are.” Dean answered him. He made a pleased hum when Castiel threw his arms around his neck. The sheep pulled him down into another kiss.

“I’ll probably make sure you know how good you feel.” The wolf continued, followed by a low sound as he lined himself up. The touch was just enough to feel the pressure of the blunt head, and Castiel groaned, trying to push back against it.

Dean held back, teasing. The sheep broke first and made a sound of frustration. Dean grinned, finally relenting and driving into him slowly.

Castiel’s head fell back and his eyes squeezed closed as he felt himself impaled. No matter how many times they did this, it always felt like too much, but exactly what he needed.

“Dean.” He said breathlessly, and the slow glide stopped, immediately.

“You ok?” The trepidation in the wolf’s voice was like a balm to his soul, and he inhaled deeply.

“Kiss me.” He said, pulling the other man down to him, and meeting his lips in a hungry kiss. The angle of his hips changed a bit, and the kiss helped him to relax. When his body adjusted, he felt Dean’s hips pull back a little, before driving forward the rest of the way.

“Oh, fuck!” The wolf groaned. “You feel so amazing. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

Dean had always been a vocal lover, never holding back the words that poured out of his mouth while they were intwined. It was one of the things Castiel loved the most, and he felt his body relax even further at the sounds of the wolf’s enjoyment. Dean was so good to him, and Castiel loved knowing he was able to please his lover.

The wolf’s sigh of pleasure turned quickly to a whine of discontent.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Cas. Cas, I can’t...” He couldn’t hold back forever, and was about to reach his breaking point. The sheep knew it.

This was Castiel’s favorite part, really. He knew if the time ever came that he would have to be bred, a ram would never take care of him the way Dean did. A ram would never try to hold back, and make sure that Castiel enjoyed himself. Although, rams weren’t equipped the way Dean was either. And Castiel liked that too.

He forced his eyes open, knowing the sight that would greet him, and drinking his fill. Dean’s entire body was involved in the strain of holding back. All of his muscles were tensed, showing off the fine physique that Castiel spent his nights dreaming about. There was a fine sheen of sweat gathering along his hairline, and that ripe, puffy lip was pulled between his teeth. Castiel waited until those startling green eyes began to creep open.

“It’s okay, Dean.” He allowed one of his hands to caress the wolf’s jaw line, and felt the man lean slightly into it.

The feeling of Dean’s withdraw was almost as intense as it was when he pushed his way back in. Castiel couldn’t help the fervent moan the action pulled from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” Dean’s tone was always awed when he said things like that, and it never failed to bring a blush to Castiel’s cheeks. There was another slow thrust.

“The hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He added, before changing his angle a little and drilling back into Castiel.

“Dean!” He gasped out the name, his fingers digging into the flesh of Dean’s shoulders, as a pleasure spiked through him.

“Oh, is that it? Should I do that again?” The wolf cajoled, pressing forward and rolling his hips a little in the way he did when he was making sure Castiel’s body was prepared to take more.

“ Deeean ” He tried to whine, but was cut off by another well aimed thrust of Dean’s hips. It turned into an awful noise he wished he could take back, and the wolf released a breathless little chuckle.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” Dean gave him a triumphant grin and made another slow movement of his hips. But Castiel was done playing games, and instead of responding in the way he was expected to, he tried something different.

He growled at Dean.

Growling didn’t come easy to his kind, it felt odd and a bit uncomfortable. He had to force the strange noise out of his throat, baring his teeth for good measure.

The effect on the other man was startling. His body didn’t change, but the wolf was clearly visible in the sudden sharpness of his teeth, and the way the green of his eyes spread to fill over the white.

“Did you just growl at me?” Dean’s voice was an ironic growl of it’s own.

“Yes. Don’t make me do it again.” The sheep answered, forcing his voice calm even while his insides twisted. Had he really just growled at a wolf?

Castiel couldn’t deny the fear that spiked through him at the sight of the wolf coming through, but neither could he deny the arousal it caused. If he’d ever doubted his attraction to the wolf, as well as the man, those doubts were thoroughly dashed.

Before he had time to question his decision, or even think of an apology, Dean was dropping his legs from his shoulders and leaning back away from him. Then before Castiel could even process the change, the wolf had him by the hips, lifting and twisting and manhandling him.

When it was all said and done, he found himself straddling the other man, one leg on either side of his hips, and his cock still firmly inside him.

“You want to be in charge? Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The movement, and the words were so unexpected that it took a while for the situation to sink in. When it did, Castiel couldn’t help the relieved and ecstatic smile that crossed his face.

“Really?” He rolled his hips a little just to feel the way the wolf filled him so completely.

Dean himself growled in response. His was much more convincing, and the deep rumble of it caused another wave of arousal and slick. He could feel it helping to ease his passage, and he used that to his advantage. He placed his hands on Dean’s chest and used the leverage to push himself up, and allowed gravity to drop him back down.

The noise that fell from his lips at the action was nothing compared to the actual howl that tore from Dean’s throat.

Castiel reacted quickly, slapping a hand down to cover the wolf’s mouth. A giggle escaped his lips that was part joy and part fear.

“Dean.” He hissed, leaning forward as if whispering now would help in any way. “Your pack will hear you!”

But Dean wasn’t listening. His hands gripped so tightly to Castiel’s hips he knew there would be bruises tomorrow, and his face seemed to be at war with itself as he fought to keep the beast inside. It took a few moments, but Dean’s eye’s eventually cleared, and Castiel removed his hand.

“Are you okay?” The sheep asked, his fear and arousal once again fighting for dominance.

“Yeah, beautiful. I’m great.” Dean said, his confident grin returning.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do it this way.” Because Castiel was fairly sure the wolf inside was not happy that the position of dominance had been reversed.

“Are you kidding? That felt amazing. You should definitely do it again.”

Castiel was much less sure than Dean seemed to be, but he trusted the man. So, he did it again.

This time, Dean was able to control his wolf’s reaction, and Castiel took that as permission to do as he pleased.

He established a decent rhythm fairly easily, sometimes pulling himself up and others just grinding down to get Dean as deep as he could get him. It felt incredible, and he reached down to give his own cock a few quick pulls, as he watched his lover’s reactions.

An animalistic whine issued almost continuously from Dean’s mouth. His hands were clenched around Castiel’s hips and his gaze was directed downward. Castiel didn’t know if the wolf was looking at his dick or if he could see where they were joined below that. Whatever was holding his attention only worked for a moment.

Dean moved to meet the next drop, his head falling back with a loud groan. After that little taste of pleasure, it was as if the floodgates had opened. The wolf could no longer lay still and let Castiel have his own way. He was thrusting with abandon, pressing up into Castiel, meeting him when he dropped his hips down.

The wolf had always been in charge during their liaisons in the past. He’d always been so attentive and meticulous, never losing that carefully held control. He always had to make sure that Castiel didn’t get hurt, and it wasn’t until this moment that the sheep finally realized how much was lost when Dean was holding back.

The wolf couldn’t talk while he was like this. He couldn’t tease, and he couldn’t restrain those animal noises that he usually kept in check. He was beautiful.

Castiel found his body responding to the pace the other man had set, even if he was supposed to be the one in control this time. His hips shifted and lifted and dropped in time with the ones below. When he dropped down particularly hard, the whine below him turned pathetic and begging, and a fresh wave of arousal ran through him at the knowledge that he had done that. He had turned Dean into the needy animal below him.

He continued to meet the man’s thrusts, pressing down a little harder each time. The rewards for his actions were too many to count. The man below him was falling apart, the noises he made ratcheting Castiel’s own desire higher.

He could feel his slick gathering in the areas where they were joined. Gravity seemed to be making it worse, and even as he felt his face flush with the knowledge, he knew Dean would be pleased. He was always pleased when he made a mess out of Castiel.

When the grip on his hips became hard enough to bruise again, the sheep knew what was coming.

Before he could change his mind, he forced Dean to remove the hands on his hips, pushing them into the leaves and dirt below them. The frustrated sound that issued from the wolf made Castiel smile, and he watched those hands turn to dig into the forest floor instead.

On his next thrust, he could feel the swelling at the base of Dean’s cock that stretched him a little wider than before, and he groaned. He could probably only get a few more thrusts before that swelling became too much, and he wanted them. He dropped down hard and fast, feeling the pressure and the drag across his puckered flesh. The first was only a little more of stretch than his body was used to, the second only slightly more so. By the third, he felt his body struggle to allow it, and he knew the forth wasn’t going to happen at all.

Dean’s fingers were pressed into the dirt, digging holes for themselves as his fists opened and closed. His mouth was firmly closed, the effort to keep it that way clearly visible in the tension in his jaw. If the swelling of his knot hadn’t been enough to tell, the tension in the man’s body said clearly how close he was.

Castiel knew this was his chance. He knew it was maybe the only chance he had to get what he wanted without having to talk Dean into it. It was a nearly perfect opportunity, with him in complete control, and the sheer amount of slick gathered between them. He wrapped a hand around his dick and pumped furiously, hoping to come at the same time.

His fourth thrust came down hard, the knot stopping the motion and causing them both to gasp loudly.

Dean stared up at him, eyes widening when Castiel slapped a hand across his mouth again. If the wolf’s reaction to their change in position was any indication, this was going to be loud.

And then Castiel came down for the last time, pressing his body back, forcing it to accept all of Dean.

The howl that came out of the wolf was loud, even behind his hand, but it was nothing in comparison to the sound that came out of Castiel, completely unhindered.

His orgasm hit him hard as the swollen flesh pressed into his body, locking him to his lover in a way he could not escape.

He held back another sound as he felt Dean’s teeth dig into his palm, and the cock inside him pulse with release. Castiel groaned at the feeling, with his hole still fluttering from his own orgasm.

The sheep fought to catch his breath. “Shit. Shit!”

There was no way that hadn’t been too loud. He found himself peering into the forest around them, and even sparing a glance toward the hill from which he’d come. He’d screamed so loud they’d probably heard it the next county over.

He continued looking for signs of either of their families coming to investigate until Dean’s hands came up to surround his cheeks, and he was forced to face the other man. When he finally looked back down at his lover, he allowed the hand over his mouth to fall.

“Cas.” Dean was staring at him wide-eyed, still trying to catch his own breath. His gaze was so filled with concern that Castiel leaned forward to press a reassuring kiss to his lips. The action caused the knot inside him to tug at his opening, and they both moaned in combination of pleasure and pain. When the sheep moved back into a more comfortable position, Dean continued.

“Cas, what the hell were you thinking?”

He would have liked to avoid looking at Dean while they had this conversation, but he was stuck in his current position for the foreseeable future.

“How long does this last?” He asked, instead of answering Dean’s question.

Dean sighed, running his hands up Castiel’s sides. “I don’t know, Cas, it’s not an exact science. Sometimes it lasts longer than other times. Maybe my body will figure out it can’t knock you up, and it’ll go down.”

Castiel’s eyes widened at that. “That’s what your knot is for?”

Dean looked a bit confused by the question, but his comforting, wandering hands never stopped. “What did you think it was for?”

“I don’t know.” He probably should have found more information, before he’d done this.

Dean’s expression was filled with concern, and he forced Castiel to face him again when the sheep turned to hide his shame. “Cas, why did you do it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I wanted to try.” He said, hoping it would be enough.

“But why? You know you’re not built to take a knot.” Dean said softly, refusing to allow Castiel to break their eye contact.

“I wanted all of you.” He whispered meekly, and that was mostly true. Although, at some point he’d also convinced himself that what he was able to give Dean wasn’t enough. He’d watched the wolf work his own knot down, and he wanted to be able to do that for him.

Dean’s eyes softened at that. He didn’t know if the man truly understood what he meant, but he hoped he was at least getting an idea.

“Did you like it?”

Castiel moved his hips a bit, feeling the swollen flesh pull at this hole again. It was a little uncomfortable, and bigger than he’d ever given it credit for, but it was pleasant in its own way.

“I may have to collect more data.” He grinned flirtatiously, rolling his hips again. He felt the flesh inside him pulse again, and Dean groaned, his head falling back and his eyes closing.

“Nope, still trying to knock you up.”

Castiel felt a little thrill at the idea, but did his best to hide it. Interspecies breeding wasn’t possible, as far as he knew, but the idea of carrying Dean’s pups appealed to him in a way that carrying for the rams never had.

When Dean’s knot finally went down, and they were able to part, Castiel found himself feeling empty. Before he could get too upset about it, though, Dean pulled him back down to lay in his arms.

“Do you know why wolves mark?” Dean asked, rubbing a cool finger soothingly over the new mark he’d made on the sheep’s palm.

Castiel snorted at the question as his eyes followed the movement of the wolf’s finger. “I assume it’s some sort of dominance thing.”

Instead of the expected sarcasm, Dean’s voice held an altogether different tone. “Well, yeah, kinda. Dominant wolves are the ones that mark.”

He nodded. He knew enough about wolves to know that.

“Alphas.” He said, and felt a shiver pass through the wolf at the word. He filed that bit of information away for later.

“Yeah, but do you know why?”

Castiel assumed that the conversation was leading up to something, but he didn’t really know where. As much as he complained about Dean marking him, he’d never really minded it. Even knowing that someday it was going to get them caught. It was a part of being with Dean, and he was more than willing to let it happen. If his options were to be covered in bite marks, or not have Dean in his life, he knew which one he would pick. Not that he hadn’t made that decision already. He’d been yelling at Dean for months about the marks, but he just kept coming back for more.

“No, I guess I don’t know.”

“Alphas are compelled to mark, to denote their mates.”

Castiel turned to look Dean in the eyes, then. The man was blushing faintly, but met his gaze evenly. “What are you saying? You bite me so that the other wolves will know I belong to you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Dean raised his free hand to rub the back of his neck in a nervous gesture Castiel had rarely seen before. The wolf was usually so sure of himself. “Listen, Cas, it’s not just a mark of ownership, or whatever. It’s…”

Dean seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, but his eyes sharpened as he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Wolves mate for life.”

Castiel sucked in a shocked breath of air. Did that mean what he thought it did? “Dean, are you saying that we’re… wolf married?”

“No, I’ve never given you a real mating mark.” Dean dragged a hand along the side of Castiel’s neck, giving the impression of where this mating mark would be. The wolf’s eyes followed the movement, as if afraid to meet his gaze. “But I would like to.”

Castiel quickly dug through all his knowledge on wolves. He remembered learning that wolves mated for life. He even remembered the mating marks, but he knew there was something he was missing. Something about bonding… As the information clicked in his brain, he placed his hand under Dean’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

“I’m not a wolf. It probably won’t be the same. Sheep don’t have mates.” His tone was soft, almost apologetic.

Dean shook his head slightly, not even enough to dislodge the sheep’s hand. “I don’t care. I don’t want a wolf mate. I want you.”

Castiel closed his eyes against the honesty and love coming from the wolf’s gaze. This was a terrible idea. He was expected to eventually be bred like the other ewes in his flock, and he was sure that Dean was expected to mate a wolf. It just wasn’t done to find love outside of your own species. There were always rumors of such things happening, now that they were all trying to live together in peace. But they were only rumors. Weren’t they?

Castiel opened his eyes, and took in the view of those green eyes he’d come to love. Wolf’s eyes. He’d never felt anything even remotely like this with one of his own kind. “Okay.”

It was Dean’s turn to be surprised, and the quick intake of air rushed past Castiel’s face, satisfyingly. “Really?”

“Dean, I have already allowed you to mark me everywhere else. What makes you think I would deny you now?” He smiled, unrepentantly.

The wolf looked ashamed. “I really am sorry about that, Cas. I can’t stop the urge to mark you. It was all I could do to just find another place for it. I didn’t want to mate you without your permission.”

Castiel gave an understanding nod to that. “Well, you have my permission now. So mark away, Alpha.”

As predicted, the word had a profound effect on Dean. His eyes narrowed, fading closer to wolf form again, and a low growl was permitted through bared teeth.

Castiel hmed, grinning up at the man as he clearly tried to tame the beast inside. “You like it when I call you that.”

Dean shook his head, dispelling the wolf, and fading back to the man. “The wolf likes it.”

The sheep laughed. “You are the wolf.”

“I’m not only the wolf.” Dean told him, seriously.

Castiel had to concede that. When they were together, they weren’t only a wolf and a sheep. They were also men. And, somewhere along the way, Castiel had fallen in love. He supposed Dean must have fallen in love at some point, too, if he was willing to chance a bond with no guarantee that the sheep would feel it too.

Castiel smiled lovingly at the man, baring his neck where Dean had indicated the mating mark should go. “Mark away, Dean.”

The man sighed, baring his soul in his gaze. “This is forever, Cas. I can’t take it back.”

Castiel hoped Dean could see the love he held for the man within his own stare. “That’s good, because I’m never going to want you to.”

Dean’s smile was radiant as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Castiel’s lips. “Are you sure?”

“Dean, if you don’t shut up and bite me, I’m going to bite you.”

#Destiel #fanfiction #a/b/o dynamics #wolf dean #sheep castiel #fluff #Smut #biting #marking #mating #idiots in love

20 notes · View notes