#(at first my yoga pants were sideways

[mama-qwerty]

Dress to Impress

So my husband and I worked a wedding show all weekend, and this little bit had been in my head already, so I thought I'd do some warmup writing and get it out.

Cal and crew are off to find a wedding dress, after she and Wade decide to tie the knot.

Yes this is yet another of my out of order bits from the timeline in my head.

~~~~~

“Welcome to Aphrodite Gowns! How can I help you?”

The size 4 vision of beauty cast her eyes up and down Callie, and the librarian had a flashback to high school when that look usually meant she was being sized up as competition, and dismissed quickly thereafter. She shook her head, trying to get herself out of that mindset.

“Yes, I’d like to see your formal yoga pants selection, please.”

The saleswoman’s brow furrowed, and she flicked her eyes to the people with the redhead. Maddie gave a slap to Callie’s shoulder, while Silver and Knuckles glanced around at the dresses on display.

“Cut that out,” Maddie almost hissed, as she turned to the saleswoman, a smile on her lips. “She’s getting married and we’d like to find a gown, please.”

The furrow smoothed in the saleswoman’s brow, and she smiled with a nod. “Ah, I see. Come back with me and we’ll get you fitted in something I’m sure you’ll love!”

Maddie smiled and nodded back, casting an almost warning look to Callie. Be nice.

The redhead rolled her eyes slightly and sighed. “Fine.”

~X~X~X~

Twenty minutes later, Callie was properly fitted and had tried on a few dresses that hadn’t really spoken to her. Some were too ornate, some too heavy. She wasn’t an overly ‘dressy’ gal in the first place, and so many wedding gowns seemed so . . . pretentious.

“They’re supposed to be pretentious, at least a little,” Maddie said, browsing through a nearby rack. “It’s your wedding! You’re supposed to feel and look beautiful. Don’t you want to be a princess for a day?”

“Not particularly,” Callie said, shrugging. “I mean, these dresses are pretty and all, but they’re just not me.”

“We’ll find something that is you,” the saleswoman, Autumn, said as she carefully rehung the latest dress Callie had turned down. “I don’t give up easily. It’s my mission to find you a dress that will take your breath away, and make you feel beautiful.”

“Good luck with that,” Callie muttered with a sigh.

Silver had been having a ball looking through the dresses, and his eyes lit up when he found one he liked.

“MOM! You have to try this one on! It’s so pretty! You’ll love it!”

Autumn looked to Callie, who simply nodded. “Sure, Bug. Show Miss Autumn which one.”

The hedgehog hurried over to grab Autumn’s hand, and pull her to show her his choice.

~X~X~X~

Callie didn’t, in fact, love it.

“Wow.”

“Lemme see!” Silver called, and she could tell he was bouncing on the balls of his feet like he does when he’s excited. “C’mon Mom! I wanna see!”

Callie took a deep breath and let it out in a huff as she shuffled toward the fitting room door. It took some maneuvering—there was A LOT of tulle and frills and sequins. She had to turn sideways to move through the door.

When she appeared in the viewing area, surrounded by mirrors and her tiny entourage, Silver gave an excited gasp, while Maddie and Knuckles simply stared at her, foreheads pinched in mild shock.

“You look so pretty!” her son said, his voice high as he bounced and clapped. “Like Vanellope at the end of Wreck-It Ralph!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. The sleeves were poofy, the bodice was framed in lace and frills, and the ball gown skirt was wide and pleated and made her feel like she was wearing a giant cupcake wrapper. Made of five layers of pink tulle. It felt light and heavy at the same time, and her legs were starting to itch from the tickle of the gauzy fabric.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Knuckles!” Maddie’s voice was sharp and full of warning. “The dress is . . . lovely.”

“It is not. It looks ridiculous.”

“I think it’s pretty!” Silver said, his face pinched in annoyance as he looked at the echidna. “Mom likes it, don’t you Mom?”

Callie pulled her lips tight.

“We can put that in the ‘maybe’ pile, okay?” Autumn thankfully suggested, looking between Callie and Silver. “You can’t buy a dress after only trying on a few, after all. Why don’t we try something else?”

“Yes!” Maddie called, as she pulled one from the rack. “I have one I think will look great on you.”

Autumn took the dress from Maddie, and followed Callie into the back to help her get changed.

~X~X~X~

Callie stared at the mirror in the changing room, her eyes wide.

“Holy crap.”

“C’mon girl, lemme see ya!” Maddie called.

Callie flicked her eyes up and down her reflection before swallowing hard. “Silver, cover your eyes.”

“Why? I wanna see, too!”

“Just do it, please.”

“Ugh, fine.”

With a deep breath for bravery, Callie stepped into the viewing area.

Maddie gasped, a wide smile on her face. She brought her hands up to give a quick clap as she looked up and down Callie’s dress. “Oh Cal, you look so good!”

The white of the dress contrasted with the blush traveling up Callie’s cheeks. It was strapless, and had a deep v-neck cut down her cleavage. The mermaid cut hugged her body, revealing the curve of her hips, and the slight bulge of her belly. Those extra scoops of ice cream after supper were put on display for all to see in this thing.

“You can’t be serious.”

Maddie looked at her in surprise. “Cal, you look fantastic in that! It shows what you’ve got, and girl, you’ve GOT it!”

“Can I see?” Silver asked, his hands still over his eyes.

“No,” Callie answered immediately. “Mads, I cannot walk down the aisle in this. Wade would pass out.”

The vet laughed. “If the guy forgets his own name when he sees you, that’s a good sign.”

Callie cocked an eyebrow. “Maddie.”

“What? You look good. Knux, back me up on this.”

The two women turned to Knuckles, who was blushing almost as furiously as Callie, his eyes averted. “I . . . feel it is inappropriate to look upon you in that.”

Callie gestured toward the echidna, as though he had proven her point about the revealing nature of the gown. “There, see? He can’t even look at me.”

“Can I look at you?” Silver called. “NO.” Callie turned and headed back toward the fitting room. “Knux, you’re up. Pick me a good one, big guy.”

~X~X~X~

Callie sat in the dressing room, scrolling through her phone as Knuckles browsed. It took him a few minutes, until he finally pointed to one for Autumn to take into the back.

Once Callie slipped the dress on, she stared at herself in the mirror again.

She was speechless.

“Callie?” Knuckles voice came soft. “May we see?”

She blinked, and turned to walk into the viewing area. When she appeared and stood in the center of the surrounding mirrors, four pairs of eyes were on her. She blushed again, but that didn’t stop the smile from curling her lips.

“Oh Callie,” Maddie said, her eyes wide and a smile stretching her lips. “That’s perfect.”

“You look so pretty, Mom,” Silver said, his voice soft.

Knuckles gave a short nod, a little smile on his lips as well. “It suits you well.”

Callie had to agree. It was a sheath style gown, with a delicate white lace outer layer, over a soft cotton cream under layer. The bodice was form fitting, but not R-rated, and the ¾ sleeves carried the same lacy detail without the under layer. The back gave the impression of a train, without the unwieldy length.

It was comfortable, flattering, with the right mix of classic and modern details.

Callie turned as she looked at herself in the mirrors surrounding her. She shook her head, her smile never faltering.

“Knuckles, this is perfect. How did you . . . ?”

The echidna shrugged. “Madam Autumn said to find something that is you.” He gestured to the gown. “This is you.”

“Kid, I may have to give you a job,” Autumn said with a little laugh. “That was a perfect choice.”

Knuckles puffed his chest out, a smug little grin on his lips.

Maddie watched as Callie kept looking at herself in the mirrors, the look on the redhead’s face one of happiness and almost disbelief.

“Well, Cal? How do you feel?”

Callie flicked her eyes up and down her reflection once more, before turning to her little group.

“Like a princess.”

#sonic the hedgehog fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #knuckles the echidna #callie macpherson #maddie wachowski #silver the hedgehog #knuckles wachowski

[jjksblackgf]

nibbling it

pairing — jung hoseok x female reader genre — smut word count — 1.6k summary — “There’s no better way of spending his free Friday night than with you, on his knees, you tugging his hair as a plead to go faster” warning — explicit sexual content, porn watching and describing (ish), female masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, clit biting/nibbling, edging.

a/n  — this one was very fun to write, i was listening to hit different the entire time, because hobi does hit different kjsksjksjs enjoy my lovelies <3

This was your favorite pass time with Hoseok. Watching movies and rating them from 1 to 5. Usually watching 3 or so movies per night, with popcorn, snacks and all that.

But normal couples would watch normal movies. You two watch porn movies. Yes, you’ve read that correctly. 

Getting up to date with what’s recent, what’s cringy, ridiculous storylines, and new things to try in bed yourselves. Sometimes the night ends with passionate sex, sometimes is just the two of you laughing and going to sleep.

So this is where you’re at now. In your living room, sitting side by side, popcorn in between, ready to watch some spicy shit.

“What’s the title of this one?” You asked, pressing play on the TV

“I don’t remember” He laughed, eating some of the popcorn “Probably something with double meaning”

The movie starts with a cliché porn song and the star of the movie is already half-naked on the screen.

“Damn, I picked one without a story this time” He said with a pinch of regret in his voice.

“It’s okay, we can still rate the obvious fake stuff” you pointed out “But I have to admit that I wish I could put my legs behind my back like that”

“Nothing a few sessions of yoga can’t fix” he looked at you with a smile and you grinned as you rolled your eyes.

Nothing new to watch here so far, just a gorgeous woman masturbating in a position that most women don’t masturbate at.

“That is a very pretty buttplug, tho” you said and that caught Hoseok’s attention

“I’ll buy one just as pretty for you” he hugged you sideways to squeeze you a little bit, kissing your temple with a teasing tone

“Aw babe, that’s so sweet” you joined in the fun, smiling and pecking his lips.

Both of your gazes returned to the TV, in your half cuddling position, eating popcorn. In this lovely bickering, you missed a few seconds in the movie, being enough to leave you both confused.

“What’s the point of her being blindfolded?” Hoseok had a curious tone in his voice

“Does she know there’s a man behind her?” You talked back to the TV

“This is porn, majority of the time nothing makes sense” he said to you

“Oh, okay” You both said in unison as the actors started kissing and masturbating each other.

The movie progressed a few more scenes with you both in silence. Blowjobs were never your favorite to watch, but you could always learn something.

“Damn, he’s hung” you pointed out eating more of the popcorn, Hoseok turning his head to face you, a mix of emotions on his face. You laughed it off and continued to watch the movie, commenting on a few positions here and there.

“It’s already over?” Hoseok said “He didn’t even return the oral?”

“I feel sorry for her, I’ll rate a 2 out of 5, just for the buttplug”

“This one is a zero for me” he added

“Look at you worrying about her pleasure” you said with a playful tone

With that, he scoffed and smirked at your direction “You know how I do”

You laughed with him and gave in to your urge to touch his thigh “I do know how you do” You looked into his eyes, and after a moment his gaze went to your lips, your breath mixing with his and you hear his loud gulping. You bit your lips and that was enough for him to lean in and kiss you.

He didn’t wait long to use his tongue, moving his hand to your neck as you traveled yours from his thigh to his chest. You grabbed his shirt from the collar to bring him closer and deepen the kiss.

His passionate lips never left yours as he moved his head from one side to the other, looking for more intimacy and intensity. 

The flutter on your heart was noticeable all over your body. There were butterflies on your stomach, your hands slightly sweaty still tugging to his shirt, your lips that didn’t seem to get enough of his. As Hoseok melted his tongue with yours, the kiss was getting wetter, and so were your panties. 

You let out a loud moan as he bit your lower lip. You interrupt the kiss to look into his eyes “Show me how you do” You whispered

Hoseok had lust in his eyes, now with the best of duties that he loves to fulfill. He took advantage of his hand still in your neck to pull you close to meet his lips again. His thumb was grazing your jawline very sweetly, but his kiss was intense just like before, tongue traveling through your lips once again, but pulling it out so he could bite you again.

His hand went from your neck and traveled slowly down your back, the tip of his fingers leaving marks of fire through your skin. He chose to cup your ass with his hand, the other had a firm place on your lower back. Your arms went to hug his neck, knowing your lips would be separated not long after, but still wanting this moment to last.

He touched your thigh and went close to your core, your walls clenching by the knowledge of what was to come. He wasted no time in opening your legs to feel the heat through your shorts, moving his palm up and down. You hissed in his lips, his interpretation of it was to place more pressure to increase the friction, then earning a loud groan.

He unzipped your shorts to have more access to you, and you both tried your best to remove the shorts without having to break the kiss. His hands were back to his palm action for a little bit, he then switching to using only the tip of his fingers with the same movements.

You got sad when his sweet lips left yours, but it was for a good cause, as he got to his knees to remove your panties and then opened your legs while holding the back of your knees. He decided not to go straight for it, taking his moment to look into your eyes and kiss your inner thigh.

He then reached his destination, first kissing your outer lips very slowly, making sure every inch of you were given the attention it deserved. You couldn’t wait for this moment any longer, reclining on the sofa, but shifting your weight to your elbows to still have a perfect vision of what was happening.

He was going to use his nose this time, massaging your clit from side to side, then up and down, then drawing an eight to drawing his own name, in Korean and English. He then decided to pair his movements with his tongue licking the outside of your entrance, the sensation surprising you enough that he felt your walls slightly clenching at the tip of his tongue.

Before you could get used to it, he went to kiss your clit, very sloppy, very wet kisses. Each time increasing and decreasing its pressure. But you wouldn’t get used to that either, because he went to lick your sensitive bud, repeating the same movements his nose just did. This time he would insert two fingers, making them spin clockwise, just to give you a new sensation. And give your walls something to clench on.

Today Hoseok was going to do something he didn’t do very often, he would pass his teeth very delicately on your clit, with biting movements but not exactly biting it, just with enough presence to give you new sensations. He then curled his fingers looking for your spot and stayed nibbling on your clit. 

At the sight of your face and the sound of your orgasms, he knew you were close, taking your involuntary and irregular clenching as a clue to stop. “Why did you stop?” You whined and looked at him, only to receive a smirk in return. 

After you caught a little breath, he would return to his nibbling action, loving your reaction to each pass of his teeth. But he would stop again. “No! Keep it going” You practically shouted

“Patience, my love” he whispered so close to your core that his breath caused shivers down your spine

But you didn’t have patience today. He returned to the movements and you grabbed his head with two clumps of hair to make him stay in place. 

He smiled at your action, his pants getting tighter. For him, there’s no better way of spending his free Friday night than with you, on his knees, you tugging his hair as a plead to go faster. He loved it when you took action like that, he loved to know that he was good at what he was doing, that you were feeling good because of him.

The mix of the nibbling and curled finger action got you very close. Your toes were now curling and the knot on your stomach was waiting to be released. But you wanted something a little more rough on you tonight. And instead of just letting Hoseok finish what he started, you moved his head around from side to side.

Hoseok was surprised but delighted, and just stuck his tongue out, letting you decide the pace and pressure. he continued to focus on his fingers and the texture of his tongue was enough friction for your orgasm to come a few seconds after.

If you two made a movie, he would rate it 10 out of 5.

#bts smut #bts pwp #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #black kpop fans #black kpop stans #kpop ambw #bts ambw #kpop scenarios #bts x reader #jung hoseok

[laufeysodinson]

Two sets of baby blues

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader Rating: G Warning/s: childbirth Summary: giving birth to your first daughter with henry Word count: ~2.1k A/n: it’s 2 am ...... did so much research i could probably be an ob/gyn now. i just really hope it doesn’t sound too methodological/technical and that you guys like it! Officially devoid of emotions bc i RAN OUT after this hahahaha! likes and comments are always appreciated, because right now Tumblr is my only source of validation lol. Sending all my love to you guys <3 Taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​ @littlesidewriter​ @kandomeresbitch @harlotforhenry​ @cristinagronk16​ @henrythickcavill​ @thereisa8ella​ @lareinedususpense​ photos below found on (you guessed it!) Pinterest.

Feeling a mild popping sensation along with a brief trickle of liquid down your legs, you woke up startled, your hands clutching your 39-week belly instinctively as you sat up. You felt your eyes widen as you looked down at your comforter-covered legs, and hastily pulled it back.

“Did I just pee myself again?” You muttered to yourself. Kal, who was sleeping in the space between yours and Henry’s legs, looked up at you with his head tilted to the side. You twisted so you could turn on the lamp on the side table to see clearer. You breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t look or even smell like pee. I didn’t pee myself! Yay!

Wait a minute... if this isn’t pee... then...

You gasped loudly, startling Kal. The bear was now more alert, his ears moving at every sound you make. “It’s okay, bear. Just your baby sister announcing her arrival.” You tried to console him, knowing that he was worried about you.

With one hand on your belly and the other reaching out to touch Henry’s bicep, you shook his body and hoped to God that that was enough to wake him up. Nope. No response. Just a single “hmm?” and he went back off to dreamland.

Checking your phone, you huffed when it said that it was only 11:43 in the evening. Which meant that you were only asleep for about thirty minutes when your baby woke you up because she suddenly decided that she wanted to come out.

You breathed deeply and looked at Henry, seeing his perfect face sleeping with a little smile on his face—which was the reason why you were in this position anyway—and gripped his bicep tightly in surprise when the first wave of a painful contraction hit you. You could feel your fingernails slightly digging into his skin when his eyes suddenly opened and he grabbed your hand. He sat up, winced, and said to you, “What is it? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

You closed your eyes and just breathed. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. This mantra (which you already learned from a yoga class waaay back even before you were pregnant) was repeatedly going through your head as you opened your eyes and calmly stated, “My water broke.”

There was a pause wherein you could kind of see the cogs turning in his head as he processed what you just said to him. It was a really comical moment when his eyes widened slowly and his jaw dropped, blinking away the sleepiness and realizing what this meant. He ran a hand through his hair, obviously starting to get stressed out. “Uhh,” he dumbly croaked as he looked at your face, then your belly, then back to your face again.

You started laughing at the look on his face despite the discomfort but that turned into a groan once the pain intensified. “Ohhhh god. The fuck did I get myself into?” You whimpered as you doubled over, clutching your belly with two hands.

You looked over at Henry, who was still staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face and panted, “Babe... get the hospital bag ready and maybe call the doctor?”

You felt his body jerk a little bit and immediately, the man sprung into action and stood up, Kal following his lead. “Right. Right, the hospital bag.” He briskly walked to the left, then to the right, then back at you. “It’s in the closet.” You mumbled, answering his unspoken question. “Closet, yep.” He grunted and quickly walked over to the closet.

If you weren’t too busy concentrating on your breathing, you would’ve found it funny that he didn’t know where the hospital bag was especially because he was the one who packed it and put it in the closet for you a few weeks ago. You just laid out the things on the bed, and when you came out from the bathroom after your 200th pee that day, he was sitting there folding the tiny baby clothes and was packing them into the bag gently.

Let’s just say that you were an emotional, blubbery mess who cried at everything, especially when you thought that you were so blessed to have this man as your baby daddy. And okaaaay fine, seeing his enormous frame carefully and meticulously smoothing over the teeny newborn clothes was a bit overwhelming for you. If you weren’t pregnant, you DEFINITELY would’ve been after seeing that.

He came out, the bag slung on his shoulder while he was trying to put on a plain white shirt at the same time. Which was (obviously) an impossible feat to achieve, so he settled for letting the shirt hang around his neck temporarily while he put down the bag on the bed and handed you a pair of panties, a pad, and a t-shirt dress to change into.

Walking down the stairs with Kal following behind once the both of you were ready, Henry was panting loudly in your ear, trying to mimic the way you were breathing. He was trying to apply the relaxation techniques you both learned at Lamaze classes and you couldn’t help but be amused by his apparent nervousness.

“Hen, honey, you need to calm down.” You quietly advised and sat down on the couch, Kal immediately jumping up beside you and laying his head on your lap, trying to provide you some comfort.

“Okay, don’t panic! Stay. Calm.” He fretted, running around like a headless chicken with his phone to his ear. You stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed and an incredulous look on your face, briefly forgetting that you were the one in pain and the one pushing out a human from your body.

“Ohhhhhh my fucking...” You whined when the same wave of pain washed over you, squeezing your eyes shut and stroking Kal’s fur, hoping that that would aid in releasing endorphins that could help you deal with this hell. Henry looked at you, removing his phone for a second from his ear, glancing at the screen to check the time. “I think that was around fifteen minutes apart?” Henry said back into the phone, his other hand placed on his hip.

He nodded as he ended the call, taking a deep breath. And with that he said, “alright, love. So we don’t need to go to the hospital yet. We’ll wait for a little bit and leave when your contractions are five minutes apart.”

You nodded as he walked towards the couch, sitting beside you and snapped his fingers at Kal, pointing to the floor. “Kal, down.” The bear wasn’t happy with it, but complied anyway after a huff and settled on the ground, his head resting on his paws.

You shifted and changed your position on the couch, now with your back to Henry’s front and his legs on both sides of your body. His hands went to the lower part of your belly, stroking softly. The two of you breathing in sync with your hands over his as he pressed his lips to your temple.

Thankfully, the Lamaze relaxation techniques also worked on him as he was calmer now and less tense. Honestly, right now he probably needed it more than you did.

“Hi, my little princess.” Henry cooed, feeling the baby become quite active when she heard his voice.  Rolling your eyes lovingly with a smile, you could already tell that she would definitely be a daddy’s girl. “We can’t wait to finally meet you,” he continued, looking over your shoulder and down at your belly. “If you get here faster, I’ll buy you a pony.” He whispered conspiratorially as you looked back at him with your mouth wide open, scoffing, “no you’re not!”

All he did was smirk back at you and laugh when he felt the baby move even more. See? The two of them were already ganging up on you. They would be able to rule the world if they wanted to.

Many many hours later (you stopped counting when the pain felt like period cramps mixed with diarrhea but worse), you both managed to take Kal for a short and slow walk, replace the sheets, eat a light breakfast and watch two movies on Netflix. Both of you just talking quietly in between and occasionally answering messages from family and friends who repeatedly texted asking “is she here yet?”

But now you found yourself not being able to do anything at all. From here on, it was all just... pain. P A I N.

“Ohhhhh fuck me sideways!” You groaned as you leaned over the kitchen counter with your head resting on your forearms. Henry was beside you, rubbing your lower back soothingly as he jokingly said, “That’s what got us here in the first place!”

You sharply looked at him and glared, the goofy smile on his face slowly becoming more solemn when he checked the watch on his wrist. “It’s time, my love.”

Walking outside and making sure that Kal was secure inside the house, Henry opened the door in the back and placed the hospital bag on the seat. Afterwards, he jumped inside the driver’s side and turned on the car, proceeding to drive out of the parking spot in front of your house. Two minutes of silence in the car later, he glanced at the passenger side and pressed on the breaks. Wait. 

Where the fuck were you?

Realizing that he forgot his wife, he quickly made a U-turn and drove back to your house. As soon as he came back, you were standing in front with your hands on your hips and the most deadpan expression you could muster. He held in his laugh, knowing that you would only get more annoyed if he let it out.

When he got out of the car, he hurried over to you and smiled saying, “love you.” You raised an eyebrow at him and pursed your lips saying, “really?” He just kissed your forehead in response and started guiding you to the car, his left hand on your lower back, the other holding your hand.

Around two hours later, you were laying down on the hospital bed, your legs wide open and about to deliver this baby. “Someone get this god damn baby OUT OF ME!” You growled and threw your head back, groaning because it felt like your uterus wanted to yeet out of your body.

You were clutching Henry’s hand for dear life, most definitely cutting off his circulation but he didn’t mind. You were making his dream of becoming a father come true. You had to deal with the horrors of childbirth, so this bone-crushing grip of yours? He could most definitely handle.

And FINALLY, after what felt like forever... but actually fifty three minutes later, a healthy 7.3-pound baby girl was placed in your arms after the doctors checked her, and you felt like nothing else in the world existed. “Oh my god,” you cried, tears of exhaustion, happiness and contentment were flowing down your face and an overwhelming abundance of love deep within your chest.

“I’m so proud of you,” you heard Henry choke out and you looked at him, seeing a few tears escape from his eyes too. Giggling quietly at how sappy you both were being, you pressed your lips to his for a soft kiss murmuring, “Love you so much.”

“Wanna hold him, daddy?” You whispered and he nodded slowly, staring at your daughter with pure adoration in his eyes and looking like he was in lost a trance.

You gently passed the baby to him, your heart melting when you saw the baby open her eyes, squinting because of the light. “Oh, my love. Hi there. You’re so beautiful, just like your mummy.” He grinned, tenderly swaying from side to side. From one set of blue eyes with a splash of brown in one to another set of just blue, the two most important people in your life bonded skin to skin for the very first time.

henrycavill A little princess decided to grace us with her presence a few days ago... so now I hear you wonder, “but who is this little princess you’re talking about?” Well... everybody say hello to our daughter with whom we are utterly enthralled with, Amélie Matilda. Even the bear, who at first was pondering whether or not she was a snack or a friend, is now very much captivated.

And to my wife, everyday throughout your pregnancy I was and still am in awe of you and your incredible strength. Today was proof that you are a legend even to absolute legends and a true superhero. Thank you, my love. I am the luckiest.

This is only the beginning 😁 So many adventures to come!!!

#henry cavill #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you

[platypanthewriter]

The Tanning Rock

Harringrove April prompt 28, Tanning--Creatures!AU (This one grew to nearly 6k and I’m so sorry) @wasting-time-again​ HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, HAVE A MERMAN!  XD

The lawyer who summoned Billy—about an inheritance, he said—was...weird.  Straight out of a movie, with long incisors and a cravat, and he steepled his fingers as he talked.  

Max said he was probably actually a vampire, and Billy agreed—which was weird, because as far as Billy knew, his mom’s family wasn’t exactly old money, and it was hard to imagine a vampire getting on a plane to fly clear to California and summoning him to a crypt full of file cabinets, all just to read a will about his mom’s collection of surfing stickers and pile of old National Geographics.  

Billy knew his father had disowned him, so he bit his lips together, waiting to hear that his mother had died.

“I am here about the estate of your grandmother,” said the vampire lawyer, and Billy drew a shaky breath of relief.  “Your mother was disowned—” he said, and Billy almost snorted a laugh—like mother, like son, he thought, “—and so her domicile has passed to you.”

“Wait, what,” Billy breathed, wide-eyed.

“It is an unusual case,” said the lawyer—Fangun and Stayk, est. 986, read his card, but Billy wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to Fangun or Stayk, or whether the whole thing was a joke yet, so he kept his mouth shut.  “You will take ownership of the house and land, however, you may not live there—that is, not year-round, not unless you are given an invitation by a resident.  It is a closed community.”

“...can I sell it?” Billy asked, and the deepset eyes of the lawyer stared back at him, bloodshot and dry.

“At well below market value,” he said, steepling his fingers again.  They made a dryish noise.  “As I said, they dislike outsiders.  And a stranger will be even more of an outsider than you, in whom runs...the blood of the place.”

Billy wondered, dully, whether he’d inherited a haunted graveyard, or a den of werewolves, and groaned into his hands.  Maybe he was part zombie somehow.  Just his luck.  “Where is it,” he sighed.

“It is not on commonly available maps,” said the vampire, and Billy nodded.  It figured, he thought, though his ears perked up considerably when his grandmother’s lawyer laid out a map of Hawaii.

 They got a ride from the shore on a fishing boat at four o’clock in the morning.  “It’s barely tourist season yet,” said the fisherwoman, showing Max how to steer.  “There will be a ferry, in a week or two, but I can give you two a ride out the day your visa’s up if the ferry quits sooner.”

“We want enough time to look around,” Max said, glancing at Billy.  They’d let their lease run out, and sold most of their things, because a few orange crates of records were a small price to pay for never running into Neil Hargrove around town.  “You could get a job on one of the normal islands,” Max had suggested, quietly, over and over.  “If they don’t like us enough.”

Billy’d never suggested moving Max so far away, but she’d assumed they were going, and after a while he went along with it.  It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, getting a job in a hotel somewhere after the islanders threw him out.  Max would probably love it, in Hawaii.  

A fresh start, she had said, and it sounded good.

He and Max were greeted by a woman in a wheelchair, who stamped their passports.  “Technically, we’re a different country,” she said, smiling.  She had very brown skin, and looked contentedly half-asleep in the sun.  “You’re the only visitors on the island, for a week or two,” she said, cocking her head.  “We’re not always in a big hurry to scrub up the ferry for the summer.  We love the money, but the tourists...” she laughed, shaking her head.  “Three-month pleasure trip visa.  Have a nice summer,” she said, waving them away.  

Her benign lack of interest lessened Billy’s initial fears that he’d inherited membership in some rich, yoga-pants-wearing, white Human Superiority cult.  

 The house was traditional-ish, with a grass roof and walls, big open windows with no glass, only shutters, and a wide shaded veranda all the way around.  It looked over a beach with rolling waves, and Billy couldn’t wait to get his board out there.

“I’m gonna look around the house,” Max said.  “See if I can find any neighbors.  Maybe I can bring them cookies.”  She set her jaw, frowning around at their luggage, and the scattered pillows.  “Maybe we can buy some furniture somewhere.”

“...we can always just come here for summers,” Billy told her, breathing it in.  

“Yeah, you’re gonna have a great time getting a tourism job where you don’t work summers,” Max said, raising a sarcastic eyebrow, and Billy realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that she expected him to figure it out.  Find someone who wanted him to stay, here, on the island, at his grandmother’s house.

“I’m no good at making friends, Max,” he reminded her, and she snorted.  

“Better get out of my hair, then.”  She folded her arms, taking another deep breath of the smell of grass in the sun.  After a long moment, she looked back at him again.  “...we’ve got a little over three months, Billy.”

He suspected it sounded longer to her.

 When he wandered down to the beach, Billy could see someone’s tanned shoulders lying across a jutting rock about fifty feet out, and he paddled a ways towards it on his surfboard, getting the lay of the ocean.  There was a rip tide, dark and eerily quiet, to his right, but the rest of the beach had shallow, warm, clear waves over white sand and coral until a dark dropoff about fifty feet out where the rolling waves began.  

As he paddled closer to the rock, he could see the man on it—asleep, Billy thought, just lying in the sun as the waves lapped at his skin.  As Billy drifted closer, paddling with his hands, he could see a long-fingered hand hanging in the water, and he paddled faster, suddenly wondering whether the man wanted to be out on a rock, or whether he was a Dude In Distress, his leg cramped, needing a ride to the beach on Billy’s surfboard and a trip around the boardwalk, and maybe some shaved ice.  

As Billy approached, the guy opened his eyes, frowning over at Billy with wide, half-awake brown eyes.  He pushed himself up on the rock with his arms like the goddamn Little Mermaid, Billy thought, amused. His throat went dry watching the flex of muscle, and the water droplets where the dude had lifted himself out of the bay.  

Billy paddled at random, a little, unable to tear his eyes away.  He cleared his throat.  “Just, uh, making sure you didn’t need any help,” he said, staring at the tanned arms and swimmer’s chest in front of him, nearly triangular, like a superhero.  “I, um.  Guess you’re fine.”

The guy raised his eyebrows, starting to smirk, and then his eyes widened, and Billy realized in a flash of blue and foam that he’d drifted right into the fucking rip tide.  Right in front of the gorgeous dude on the rock, Billy thought in the back of his mind, trying to hold onto his surfboard and let the rip tide take him wherever it would.  Just his luck, he thought, dying because he was so damn gay he saw nice shoulders and his brain switched off.  He hadn’t even gotten a chance to breathe before he got sucked down, and his lungs and sinuses were starting to ache worse than the rest of him, even as he was buffeted around against his board, when an arm slid around his waist.

He wanted to yell at the guy—and he did, in an explosion of bubbles—because what the hell good was it gonna do, swimming into a rip tide, but the muscles against his back and butt flexed, and they were moving sideways out of the rip tide, and then Billy’s head was above water.  He gasped and choked, coughing up half the sea.  The ocean moved soothingly around them, as this dude had no trouble holding Billy up, and Billy tried to clear his throat and eyes.  

“Have you seriously never seen a tail before,” the guy groaned, hauling Billy along like he was no more effort to lift than a little kid at the pool.  Billy felt rock against his thigh, suddenly, and scrambled onto it, coughing and wiping his eyes to see he was on the jutting rock the dude must have jumped off of, to save him.  

“How-how fucking humiliating,” he gasped out loud.  “Can’t believe.  C-can’t believe I fucking p-paddled into a rip tide.”

“You drifted back into the...yeah,” his hot rescuer said, still in the water, with one hand on the rock to hold him steady as he frowned at Billy.  His voice sounded a little odd—Billy was reminded of the Chinese grocery by his house, where their English was perfect, but they had a lilt as they tried to speak an atonal language with a tonal ear.  Up close, he was even prettier, with moles Billy wanted to track down his neck and shoulders, and a doubtful, scrunched-up mouth Billy wanted to kiss.

“Sorry,” Billy wheezed, still coughing.  “Sorry, I’m such a moron, sorry.”  He tried to keep his eyes above the water level, but some part of his brain kept looking for tanned legs kicking under the surface, and he suddenly registered that the moving colors weren’t just fish and anemones.  “Holy shit,” he coughed out.  “You have a tail.”

His rescuer frowned harder, probably worried Billy had brain damage.  “I figured that’s why you swam into the rip tide,” he said slowly, and Billy shook his head, groaning.

“No—fuck, I’m sorry, you—you’re just hot as fuck, I’m just a moron, I’m—damn it,” he sighed.  “Sorry, jesus, I’m so fucking rude, sorry, I just didn’t notice, I was like ‘How the hell did he get me out of there?  OH!’, sorry,” he muttered, sighing.  “...drown me.”

“I am though, right,” the merman said, grinning, “—hotter than you,” and Billy realized he’d found the only person on the island more annoying than he was.  

“Yeah, yeah, just laugh at the poor gay moron who nearly drowned staring at you, that’s nice,” he huffed, lying back against the warm rock to catch his breath.  

“Was it love at first sight?” asked his rescuer, and Billy opened his eyes to glare.  

“Shut up, asshole,” he grunted.  

“Just asking,” his tormenter asked.  “Are you gonna pine away, sighing over me?  Hey, d’you think you’ll always do that?  If I swim over in town, you think you’ll fall off the boardwalk?”

“Fuck you,” Billy told him, leaning his face in his arms and laughing.  “Yeah, probably, you shithead.  Are you gonna...follow me around?  So I can look like more of an idiot?”

“Mmm, can you though…” the gorgeous merman asked thoughtfully, and Billy growled into his arms, feeling his whole body warm.  He blamed it on the sun.  “Why,” his rescuer asked, pulling himself up to laugh against Billy’s ear.  “—you want me to follow you someplace?”

“Oh my god,” Billy groaned, laughing harder.  “Are you afraid to leave me alone now?  What if I try and eat my surfboard?”

“...are you gonna?” 

“Maybe?!” Billy told him, then pushed himself up, frowning around to look for it.

“I’ve got it, it’s right here,” the smug asshole told him, waggling the surfboard in the water.  “Want me to take you back to shore?”

“No!” Billy laughed, sighing.  “I’m going surfing, just because I nearly died making an ass of myself doesn’t mean—”

“Hrm, maybe I should keep an eye on you.” 

“Why,” Billy asked, then pitched his voice just a little lower.  “You like what you see?”

“I could get used to it,” the merman said, and Billy started to preen, but the dickhead finished with “—kind of a comedy special, kind of thing,” and Billy reached over and smacked a big splash of water at him.  

He laughed, his throat arching back, the gills along it thin dark lines that Billy fantasized kissing around.  

Just as Billy was considering grabbing the surfboard and using it as a weapon of blunt force trauma, the merman leaned in close, his smirk widening around pointed teeth, and his cool, salty lips pressed firmly against Billy’s.  Billy made a weird gulping noise in his throat, and the asshole started to pull away, but Billy leaned in, and fell clean off the rock.  His weight dunked them both, and they rose sputtering and laughing, Billy held securely in his merman’s arms as his surfboard floated away.  He couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“...my name’s Billy,” he panted.  

“...Steve,” the mer-dickhead said, raising his eyebrows, like it was weird to want to know his name.  

“...I inherited a house here,” Billy told him in a rush, drunk on kisses.  “I’m from California.  My mom used to talk about this place when I was a kid.  Surfing here.  With her mom.”

“...is she here?” Steve asked, steadying them with one hand on the rock, and glancing back at the beach.

Billy laughed, shaking his head.  “Fuck, sorry, you don’t need to know my shit.  We can make out.  You’re short-circuiting my brain.”

“...I should probably get your surfboard,” Steve told him, grinning, but he leaned his head in again, gentle with his sharp teeth, and Billy inhaled shakily as the points grazed his lips and tongue.  

“Jesus,” he whispered, once he could talk, and then he licked his lips and wrenched himself away to swim after his surfboard, just so his smug rescuer wouldn’t have to fetch it for him.  The waves got bigger as he got out to where the trees weren’t acting as a windbreak, and he clambered up on his board, glaring back as Steve wolf-whistled.

 When he let the tides pull him back towards the gorgeous merman on the rock, he lost his mind again, telling him his tail looked like a peacock butt, and Steve cracked up, grinning at him.

“...so, neighbor, you have to win someone over enough to invite you to stay,” he said, cocking his head.

“Yup,” Billy told him, pointing up at the house he’d inherited, built into the hill, the old grass vacation cottage blending in with the trees.  

“And your method is to tell me I look like bird ass,” Steve continued, and Billy grimaced, waving his hands.

“No!  No, I don’t—I know people have to get to know you.  Here.  I’ll…” he sighed.  “I’ll try for a few months and see what happens.  If nothing...clicks, maybe I’ll try again next summer,” he said, grimacing, and wondering what Max would do, if they weren’t allowed to stay.  Leave, maybe, he thought—she was seventeen, and she could get a job herself.

 He ended up teaching Steve to surf, after showing off his best efforts.  When he swam back, panting, Steve looked properly impressed, and even more tanned.  “Teach me,” he said, and Billy leaned in to kiss him again, nodding.  

“That gonna get you to like me enough to let me stay?” Billy asked, and Steve frowned at him, but Billy laughed, and leaned in for another kiss.

“Tomorrow?” Steve had whispered against his lips, and Billy got no sleep at all that night, he just rolled over every couple hours to check the clock, and see that another two minutes had passed.  

Steve was fascinating to watch on the board, his tail trailing as he controlled it with his hands around either side, his abs flexing as he held himself in a kind of plank pose with the support of his tail.  Billy watched, and realized he was drooling.  

“You like me enough to keep me?” he asked that night, teasing, and Steve laughed.  

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

 Merpeople—or at least, Steve, Billy corrected mentally, realizing he was dealing with a sample size of one—loved bread.  Like a cat, Billy thought, watching Steve eye his croissant, or bagel.  He started just bringing one every morning for Steve, and some coffee, and it was hilarious watching the fluffy flesh of a croissant dangling between Steve’s shark-like teeth.  He waited every morning, and even though Billy wasn’t sure whether Steve was waiting for Billy or the bread he was carrying, he got heart palpitations every time he came down the ramp to the dock, and he could see the little lump of Steve’s head on his folded arms, the rest of him hanging off into the water.

“A few bagels aren’t enough to win me over,” Steve told him, and Billy’s stomach twisted, a little.  He wished he hadn’t brought it up, kind of—the knowledge that he might have to leave hurt, like a sore tooth he couldn’t stop worrying at in his mouth.  “Maybe more croissants,” Steve said, smiling, and Billy brought him more croissants.

 When they’d arrived, they’d discovered the town was filled with mermaid stuff, and at first, Max and Billy had snickered at it, because surely even if there’d been a merperson or two living near a human town once, they’d died decades ago, or they just traded with fishing boats, far out at sea.  They hadn’t considered the amount of people in wheelchairs, or the spray bottles close to hand.

When Billy suggested he bring lunch down from town, Steve swam over to haul himself up—his tail flashing in the light—through the bottom of one of the little sheds on the dock.  Moments later, he banged the door open, wheeling out in an old rusty wheelchair.  He spun it in a circle, waiting for Billy to climb out of the water, and then zipped ahead up the ramp to the path.  

“Wait up, jesus,” Billy yelled after him, and Steve laughed, the muscles in his arms mesmerizing as they spun the wheels.  He slowed down eventually, panting, enough for Billy to jog and catch up.  “...lemme know if you want me to push,” Billy told him, and Steve snorted.  

“Touch my chair and die,” he said.  

“Fair enough,” Billy said, holding his hands up, and Steve laughed.  

“It makes me…” he squinted, thinking.  “...seasick…?” he offered, and Billy nodded, trotting along next to him.  

“Motion-sick, probably,” he suggested, and Steve mouthed it as he rolled along.  

 The lady at the shaved ice stand leaned out and folded her arms on the edge of the little window, laughing at Steve.  “You know they make those that work!” she called, and he flipped her off.  “They don’t have to be electric!  They make ‘em that just move smoothly.”

“It’ll just rust in my shed,” Steve told her, shrugging.  “It’s fine.”  As they waited for their tacos, Steve pulled up to a table, and his rusty, janky wheels kept rolling backwards, until Steve sighed and bent down to stuff some rocks under there.

“My friend Robin and I went in together on a nicer one,” he said, “—but I can’t park it in the shed.  This one’s not so bad,” and Billy’s perception of it shifted a bit—maybe it was more like getting stuck with an old beater car occasionally, instead of something Steve needed help with.  “...want to wander around, after?” Billy asked.  “I haven’t got any souvenirs yet.”

Steve paused, then licked his lips.  “Planning your trip home already?”

“...dunno yet,” Billy said, the invitation unspoken between them.  It seemed ridiculous to want to stay so badly just because he’d met a pair of gorgeously tanned shoulders and a teasing smile, but it also wasn’t...hard to imagine, lingering on the island to go snorkeling with Steve, and learning about the reefs—he’d absorbed enough for a few semesters of marine biology, he was fairly sure, but told as stories, just off-handed things Steve had seen—and Billy was already wanting a drysuit, so he could go in the fall.  Maybe Billy could get a job on a fishing boat, he thought vaguely, or help out in one of the shops.  

If Steve would invite him.

Steve had slid his hands under Billy’s swimsuit a few times, pressing him back on their rock, or on the docks, rocking into him as Billy panted and gasped and fell apart under his hands—but he never said anything, after, and Billy hesitated to ask whether it was...anything, to Steve.  Maybe he picks an idiot every summer, he thought, watching Steve smile at the depictions of mermaids on every surface of every shop on the main street.

“You all spend so much time keeping everything dry and dead,” he said, grinning over at Billy, who’d been anticipating a comment on the mermaid’s hourglass-like proportions, not her lack of water damage.  

“...oh,” he said.  

“I have a figurehead like that, but covered in anemones,” Steve said, cocking his head.  “It’s beautiful.”

“I mean...you could...plant a vine on it, maybe?”

Steve nodded.  “Put it outside in the rain, let it grow.”  The lady behind the counter sighed, rolling her eyes, and Steve laughed.  

“There’s a whole movement to ‘preserve’ our art,” he whispered to Billy.  “Which mostly means they don’t let it become our art.”

“Huh,” Billy said, wondering whether human houses looked like museums, or mausoleums, to merpeople.  

“Not to say that I’d pour water on your television set, or drop your mattress in the bay,” Steve said, grimacing a little, and watching Billy’s face.  “I get that much.”  He looked kind of uncomfortable with the lady behind the counter glaring at him, ducking his head.

Billy leaned to kiss him.  He nearly steadied himself on the chair, and then remembering it would roll, and just held his hands away.  Steve grinned up at him, particularly at his outstretched hands, and yanked Billy down on his not very much of a lap, hurriedly curling his tail up and around Billy’s waist as Billy threatened to slide down the smooth scales to the ground.  Billy threw his arms around Steve’s neck, wide-eyed, as Steve held the wheels firmly, keeping the chair from rolling backwards under the weight of two grown men.  

“Let’s go,” Steve whispered, and Billy nodded, breathing Steve’s sun-and-salt smell, and wondering whether it was okay to ask whether Steve would consider inviting him to stay—just until the next season, Billy thought, as the chair and Steve’s tail moved under him.  Until the next summer, when he could ask whether Steve wanted him to stay again, or whether he wanted Billy gone.

After staying a whole year, Billy thought he might not have it in him to ask whether Steve was tired of him yet, but the thought of waking every morning to run down to the docks with coffee and banana bread was addictive, and he tried not to think about the end.

 Billy ran into the lady who’d stamped his passport, and caught himself staring at her tanned legs propped up on the railing.  “Oh, I’m human,” she said, laughing.  “But I love it here.  I can even shop in the little bookstore, imagine,” she said, and now that Billy thought about it, he realized it had an elevator in the back, and little lifts for the walkways along the higher shelves.  “I’ve never had someone offer to lift me into their cafe, here,” she said, her nose wrinkled, and Billy nodded slowly.  

“Shoot that thing!” she yelled, when she saw Steve’s awful old wheelchair, and he flipped her off.

 “We can only invite a few people,” Steve told him, as they ate noodle bowls.  “It’s for somebody you marry, you know, their family, maybe.  Or if you leave the island, and have a kid.”

“Yeah,” Billy said softly, hearing the message clearly—invitations were not to be wasted, and Billy wasn’t special enough to keep.  He finished his lunch, trying not to feel all butthurt about it.  Max would probably understand.

Steve kissed him again, on the docks, and Billy leaned into it, feeling the familiar pressure of tears in his sinuses, and behind his eyes.  He had three weeks left, he told himself.  Three more weeks.  Steve slid a hand up the back of Billy’s head, humming against his mouth, and Billy let himself go soft in his arms.  

When they returned to the docks, Steve dug a big beach blanket out, and they spread it out on the sand, and Billy stayed out that night, losing himself in Steve’s warm hands and mouth, under stars like he’d never seen before.  

 Steve was watching his face the next morning, with a little frown, and Billy pulled away, sitting up.  

“Better than croissants?” Billy asked, smirking a little, and Steve sighed.  

“Was that what this was?  Fucking me won’t make me give you an invitation,” he said.  He didn’t look amused, the way he had over the bagels, and Billy wondered whether it had worked, a little.  Billy’d always had a talented mouth.

“I won’t know if I don’t try, will I,” he said, laughing.  “Maybe another round will help?”

“...I have to go,” Steve said, and he didn’t even fold up the blanket, just pushed himself off the edge and slid over the wet sand into the water, gone in a flip of tail.  Billy watched for long minutes to see whether he’d come back—they’d been spending every day together, but probably Steve had stuff he needed to do, all the things he’d done before Billy had shown up at the island, easy with his body and his affections.

Billy folded up the blanket, and sat it in the shed, looking around.  There really wasn’t much in there—it was the size of a small bathroom, with some knives for fishing, and a frayed net, and the beat-up wheelchair.  

It smelled like Steve, and Billy stood and breathed, his eyes blurring with tears.

 Steve didn’t come back, and after an hour or so Billy walked home, and ran into Max returning.  “Billy!” she said, with a wide grin.  “Nice night?  I was out getting breakfast.”  She told him about somebody named El, and somebody else named Lucas, and a Dustin.

Max was making friends too, he realized, which kind of made everything worse—she was doing her best, and Billy was just mooning over some guy who thought he was barely good enough for a fuck on the beach.  She’d even met their families, he realized, listening, and registered that he hadn’t met any of Steve’s friends.  He groaned into the pillows tossed around on the mat floor, and sighed.  

“Should I stop seeing him?” he asked, mostly at the ceiling.  

“I dunno why now,” Max said.  “You’re not gonna find somebody else in a couple weeks.”

“Shit,” Billy groaned again.  

“We can try again next summer,” Max said.  “I like it here.”

The idea of returning the next summer, once Steve was bored, was enough to make Billy clench his jaw tight against the pillow he was hugging, squeezing his eyes shut against tears.  “...yeah,” he said softly.

“God, you sound tragic,” she sighed, wandering over and dropping to sit on his butt.  He grunted.  “It’s fine, jesus.  Worst case scenario we have a, like, vacation home.  The vampire dude said we didn’t have to pay taxes on it.”

“Yeah, just pay for plane fare,” Billy sighed.

“He’s out there, y’know,” she said, “—tanning,” and Billy scrambled up so fast he dumped her with a drum noise on the taut mats.  

 When he swam out, Steve just stared out to sea, and Billy clung to the edge of the rock, biting his lips.

“I’m not giving you one of my invitations,” Steve said.  “So stop trying to manipulate me into it.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, kind of wishing they’d never met.  “Yeah, okay.  Do—is that all, or are you sticking around?”

“I’ll stay,” Steve said, frowning at him, “—if you still wanna waste your time on somebody who’s not—how do you say it?  Putting out?”

“...it’s not a waste of time,” Billy told him, swallowing hard.  “I just wanted it to last longer, is all—” and Steve’s eyes narrowed intently.  He grabbed Billy around the back of the neck, and yanked him into a kiss.  

 The remaining weeks, he took Billy snorkeling, and they had sex every night under the stars, Billy panting Steve’s name, and Steve holding him so tightly it almost hurt.  Billy took him to meet Max, and she eyed him warily, but Billy fought and succeeded at securing Steve a plate of brownies, and he was vocally appreciative.  She softened a little, at that.

 Two days before they had to leave, Steve was lying next to Billy on the wet sand, the waves lapping up nearly to their waists.  His shoulder was warm under Billy’s head, and smelled like the high ocean waves.  

“...d’you think you’ll come back next summer,” Steve asked, and Billy snorted.

“Depends on whether I can afford airfare,” he said, sighing.  “Depends on whether I can get a job somewhere that doesn’t need me in the summer.”

“...so I might just never see you again?” Steve asked flatly, and Billy laughed, shrugging.  

“I don’t know,” he said, “—do you want to?”

“...fuck you,” Steve sighed, and Billy pushed himself up to frown at Steve’s face.  

“I don’t know what you want,” he said, glaring back at Steve’s narrowed brown eyes.  “You wanted me to shut up about staying.  What am I supposed to say?”

Steve bit his lips together, and looked away.  “...you know I’m gonna give you an invitation.  You can just tell me.”

“What,” Billy whispered, scrambling to sit up, his heart pounding as Steve flopped over to scrabble around under his wheelchair, his tail flapping around a little in concentration, like a cat’s.  He held an envelope out to Billy without even looking over.

“There,” he said.  “All yours.”

“What,” Billy breathed, and then he half-crumpled it, opening it clumsily.  “You—you’re giving me one?”

“Two,” Steve said, flatly, frowning down at the sand under his hands.  “You and Max, right?”

“Holy shit,” Billy whispered, scrambling over to kiss him, once, then twice, relishing the little noise Steve made in the back of his throat when his lip slid between Billy’s teeth.  “I have to go tell her,” he said, half laughing, his vision blurring with tears.  

“Okay,” Steve said, quietly, and Billy hugged him before scrambling up and running back to the house.  

 Max stared at the two calligraphed invitations on the odd plasticky “paper” the merfolk used, written in Sharpie, and shook her head slowly.  “You did it,” she said, and Billy laughed, nodding.  

“He wanted me to stay enough,” he said, wiping his eyes, and desperately wanting Max to offer to handle the paperwork, so he could run back and kiss Steve.

There was a knock on the door.  Max ran and opened it, and a short-haired woman wheeled in in a rainbow overall dress, and a small, fancy electric wheelchair, her tail the reds and oranges of a sunset.  Billy never quite stopped being envious of how pretty the merpeople were.

“Steve gave you his invites, didn’t he,” she said, and Max slid them around her back, her eyes narrowing.

“...yeah,” Billy said, warily.

“Give them back to him,” she ordered, glaring between them.  “He’s been saving those a long-ass time.  He’s got plans for those, and he doesn’t need guilt-tripping by a pair of manipulative orphans, jesus.”

“I didn’t guilt-trip him,” Billy said, feeling guilty, suddenly, and remembering Steve’s stiffness as he handed them over.  “I didn’t,” he said, less certainly.  “...he...he just likes me, he wants me to stay—”

“He’s known you three months, and you told him you fucked him to get someplace nice for your sister to live,” she said crisply.  “Give them back.”

“He’s not giving them back,” Max hissed, but she was staring at Billy in horror.

“I didn’t say that,” Billy said, waving his hands.  “I didn’t!  Not...exactly.”

“Fuck you,” the woman said, glaring.  “You pressured him.”

“Fuck,” Billy agreed, his eyes tearing up again.  “Lemme—lemme go talk to him.  Max, give—give ‘em here.”

“No,” she said, sounding choked, but he walked over and grabbed them, and hugged her.  

“We’ll figure it out,” he said under his breath, for her ears only, and ran back out.

 Steve was perched up on his rock again, and Billy grabbed his surfboard and sat on it to glide out, paddling with his hands.  The water was clear under him, his shadow passing over the anemones on the reef, and he watched the fish darting around, swallowing repeatedly.  

“Hey,” he said, when he got close enough, and Steve’s head jerked around, glowering warily.

“...you came back,” he said.

“...you want me to stay, right,” Billy said, cutting straight to the chase.  “You gave me these because you want me to stay.”  Steve frowned back at him, and Billy’s heart sank.  “Answer,” he said, his throat closing around the word.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it,” Steve said, reaching out, but he just grabbed Billy’s board before he could drift into the rip tide again.  “You wanted to stay.”  He was tense, and he wouldn’t meet Billy’s eyes.

“What do you want,” Billy asked again.  “...because I think your friend Robin’s in my house, and she says I guilted you into it, talking about Max.  Do you...if I didn’t need an invite.  Would you want me to stay?”

“...I guess,” Steve sighed, and Billy swung his leg over the board, dumping himself straight down in the water, because he was definitely about to make some kind of awful noise, and the sea felt good on his hot, wet cheeks.  Steve couldn’t see him crying underwater, he thought, grabbing a jut of rock to keep himself from floating back up.  

He wished he could take a few slow breaths, he thought, closing his eyes, and then something brushed his arm.  He opened his eyes on Steve’s wide-eyed face, his hair swirling in the water.  Billy bit his lips together harder, his hands clenching on the rock, and Steve shook his head, pointing up. 

“Up,” he mouthed.  “Come on.”

Billy let himself be hauled upwards, and pushed up on the rock again, like when they’d first met.  

“What are you doing,” Steve asked, hanging on to Billy’s surfboard.

“Nothing,” Billy said, keeping his voice level.  “I thought you wanted me to stay.  For me.  You can have your invites back.  I didn’t—” he took a deep breath, hearing Steve’s voice say stop trying to manipulate me, and Robin’s guilt-tripping.  “I fucking know I’m pathetic, okay, you don’t have to pity me.  Sorry I—sorry I fucking tried, jesus, I just—” he shut his eyes tightly again, laughing as he imagined Robin’s disgusted look knowing Billy’d gone out and cried.

“Wait, fuck,” Steve whispered, clambering up next to him, where Billy barely fit by himself, since it was high tide.  He was warm from the sun, his tanned skin gleaming with water droplets, and Billy salivated, because his dick obviously hadn’t gotten the message it wasn’t wanted.  “Wait,” Steve said, half on top of him, his weight grating Billy’s shoulder blades against the rock.  Billy didn’t really mind.  “You only want to stay if—if I want you, what—what does that mean—”  His brown eyes were huge.

“...don’t really know how to be clearer,” Billy told him, unable to pull his eyes from Steve’s mouth.

“You don’t want to stay unless I’m happy about it,” Steve said, grabbing Billy’s hands.

“Yeah, that’s kinda how it gets, when you fall for somebody,” Billy told him, raising his eyebrows, and Steve took a shuddery breath and kissed him again.  He didn’t stop, though, he just kissed Billy and kissed him, laughing shakily, his eyes welling up with tears.  

“Don’t go,” he whispered, as Billy clung to him and the rock, trying to keep them from tumbling off.  “I want you here, I want you.  Stay with me.”

“I’m what you want?” Billy asked, startled, his brain hazy from warm kisses, and the scrape of pointed teeth.  “‘M yours then,” he whispered.  “All—all of me.  S’yours.”

They laid there so long, whispering and giggling, that Billy had tan lines of Steve’s fingers on his shoulder for months.

Here are the other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done!

#Harringrove April #Mermay #Almost #Harringrove #Steve's got a tail #Billy's got a surfboard

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Joan Jett Quartet

Part 3: Cherrybomb (Klaus x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: NC-17 FILTHY! Light bondage, oral (fem receiving), pegging, use of sex toys, language, consensual rough sex, voyeurism

A/N: It had been so long since you and Klaus played your dirty little game of give and take. And The Prophet was yours for the taking. 

Part 1  Part 2

Dedicated, as always, with love to my most fatastic ride or die @robertsheehanownsmyass And also @slutforrobbiebro and @frogs--are--bitches

You adjusted the straps and hoped what was inside your linen pants was concealed just enough. At least until you were ready.

You took a few hours getting used to this appendage that hung between your legs. It was in the way for most everything you participated in during the day. So you stood with your legs further apart, or sat that way as well. You tried desperately not to reach down and adjust yourself for fear others might figure it out.

Suddenly, Klaus was beside you as you looked out over the swimming pool. He loomed so large over the Children, but could be completely human with you. That scent of hibiscus, gin and hookah smoke filled your nostrils as he wrapped you up in his arms.

“Jill is worried about you, little chicken.” Klaus used that stupid name from the night he punished you for insubordination. A pet name, one of endearment. Yet it had been so long since the two of you played.

“I'm fine,” You weren't. This.. thing in your pants was annoying. You had grown into it at least.

“She said you were walking funny?” his voice lifted at the end. “I can't imagine why. You've not needed to be disciplined in a while” It was if he read your mind. “I’d like to think I'm being gentle.” His face got lost in your hair and took a deep breath.

Klaus was telling the truth. These days, or nights, or warm afternoons, you made more love than fucked. He became almost obsessed with looking at you. Wanting a connection with someone to the point where he wouldn't pull out until well after he came. He would beg to be inside of you a little longer. If only you knew why YOU were Klaus’s special choice.

You pushed into him a bit with the curve of your ass. Klaus became instantly hard. A smirk played on your lips knowing how much control you had of the situation so quickly.

“Oh you have been, but I know you have certain appetites. As lovely as it's been, I can totally see in your eyes that flash of ‘please punish me.’ Which is tempting because this ‘tantric, cum together, lemme go four hours before I get off’ shit you learned in India annoying. Mediate all you want, but if I got my hands around your throat and just,” you mimed strangling him. “You would explode right in the middle of your stupid breathing technique. Then I’d get some feeling back in my legs”

Klaus enveloped you. Instead of a lover’s embrace, he compressed your body as much as possible. The air rushed out of your lungs as he squeezed tight like a snake with a mouse. His strength always caught you by total surprise. One arm around your chest, the other your stomach as he held you vicelike. There was that power switch. He hated being bested.

“I know pain makes you wet too,” his voice snarled. His hand tried to grab your sex to prove a point, but he got a surprise instead. His entire hand enclosed around the shaft through the fabric of your clothes. “My what a nice cock you have.”

You reached a hand behind and dug your nails into his hard on. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

Klaus’s hold deflated but not his erection. You urged him to stroke the imitation between your legs like you were doing to his real one. Your palms moved in unison as your breath both began to hitch. He tugged when you did, your bodies moving in a strange dance on the stone terrace.

Klaus turned your head sideways so he could get his tongue far inside your mouth. Fighting and doing a dance with yours while you gained speed with your hand.

“I bet you’re not even that good at sucking dick,” you broke the kiss to toss the insult over your shoulder.

You spun around and fought to take the wheel back. You reached inside and sunk your claws into Klaus’s balls. The only way you could think of bringing him to his knees as he winced with pain. Yet somehow grew even more stiff as he knelt down before you.

“Is this what we look like from up here?” Your fingers began to ravel around the hair on the back of his head. You yanked it so he was made to look at you. “eager to please the prophet with our mouths full. They're always begging you to speak, but choking themselves on your dick.”

Klaus put his hands on your hips. One of them inched under your shirt. He drew your hips towards his face and kissed your stomach. You let out a sigh before he released the imitation cock you wore.

Klaus was tentative about the way he licked at it. Just the tip of his tongue at first, darting in and out over the head. Then he sucked on it, took more of the shaft in his mouth. His head began to bob down towards your pelvis and back. The way he swallowed it as much as he could while he held tight to your ass. He alternated between long licks up the side and consuming it whole.

“It's a fucking shame I can't feel this. Doesn’t mean I don't want you to gag any less than you made me.”

Your hips thrust with a certainty that Klaus could feel the tip at the back of his throat. He was soundless though save for the soft sucking sounds. You started to fuck his mouth. The way he and other men had done to you. Your hips pumped back and forth. How much was enough when you couldn't climax like a man?

In a moment of clairvoyance, Klaus dragged his mouth backwards so that the imitation cock was slowly revealed. There was a satisfactory sound like yanking a suction cup off a surface. He gazed up at you with large green eyes silently asking you to further command him. Your fingers seizing his thick tresses so he couldn't look anywhere but you.

“How many nights have you worried about these.. morons finding out you’re a fake? That you admitted to me you were fraudulent. I love a fucking secret, and that's such a big one you trust me with. Would be such a shame if they found out.”

“You can't do that,” Klaus sounded afraid.

Yet you weren't sure if he was playing along or truly scared you'd out him to the others. Something in the back of his pleading let you know he would be relieved. To cast off the shackles of these expectant leeches he created.

“You could expose yourself to them another way. How human you would finally seem getting fucked up the ass by one of them. Your chosen one.”

Klaus climbed to his feet and pulled his boots off. He clambered out of his jeans, after he undid his belt and tossed his shirt aside. He stood in only his underwear.

You arched an eyebrow. “It's so amazing to me you can fuck the way you do,” you pinched his lithe waist, “Seeing there's not much to you.” You got your nails into his chin and tilted his head to the side. You let them trace a line along his jawbone. “Fortunately you've got quite the face. No one cares about the proverbs you spew or diatribes you go on. It's how fucking otherworldly beautiful you are. Gorgeous enough to just ruin.”

Klaus took a breath and rolled his eyes. Your hand tightened around his throat. “Don't you remember how obstinance is rewarded? All that bullshit yoga, you ought to be flexible. Fucking bend over, and show me.” You reached for his belt. “What are you always saying to me when you want anal?” You mimicked his voice, ‘Let's see how tight that ass is?”

Not having to command, Klaus held his wrists out. “Why do you still have clothes on? Naked.”

He obeyed and stripped completely. Being without clothes wasn't that big a deal to Klaus. He walked around the compound nude all the time. There were days most of you did. It's the having no control over his situation that really left him naked.

You took his arms and held them behind his back. You looped the belt around and hooked it through the buckle. You pulled the strap as tight as possible so that Klaus’s wrists were bound. His stance was wide legged, cock completely erect.

“Bend. over.”

And like Klaus had done to you when he assessed your body, you stood beside him and bent his body. His back flat like a table. You ran your hand along his tanned skin and spine before seizing his cock again.

“I lied. I might be a little.. terse with you, but I don't think I'm cruel,” you tapped your chin but kept Klaus’s erection firmly in your grasp. “I forgot something that MIGHT make fucking you a bit easier. You aren't exactly in a state to run to the house. So how about you fuck me first. With your mouth of course.”

You pushed Klaus’s head down to indicate he should kneel. Arms bound behind his back, he eagerly complied.

He sat back on his haunches to watch you undress. You wore only the strap on, which was lifted up to expose your cunt. Then you anchored yourself on Klaus’s shoulders. His mouth deftly finding your quick-swelling lips so his tongue could dart out. He probed you by pushing his tongue deep and forcing an instant slick from within.

You moaned. Klaus’s body twisted at an odd angle to get further inside of you. He lapped and flicked at you while searching for that bud of nerves and maintained his silence. There was a soft growl or two as he expertly worked your clit. Klaus circled it, tilted his head enough to run his tongue along you as you started to throb. He moved at a breakneck speed, one you never experienced from him before.

The pleasure was overwhelming as you reached to help Klaus along. Your fingers separated your slit so he had easier access to your clit now. Your hips rocked into him as you rode his face. Your balance lost a time or two but you steadied yourself in your abandon.

The two of you were so brazen in the setting sun. On the terrace knowing followers were around to catch or watch. Klaus with his wrists strapped by a belt. You wearing a fake dick, fucking his face. Your heart and cunt raced together as you started to spark. The fuse began to catch in the center of your body and suddenly it exploded with sparks as you came. Crying out unexpectedly so that your voice echoed off the stone.

“Fuck. What comes out of your mouth is sometimes so cliché, but the things you let me put in it.”

You fumbled around with the fake cock so that you could shift it towards your body. Klaus sat back and watched. His mouth and chin glistened with your orgasm which he surreptitiously attempted to lick from his lips. The devil in his eyes as he kept his composure.

“I don't think you have ever been this quiet in the two years I've been here.”

You situated the rubber dick enough to plunge it into yourself almost fully. It slid in with ease and out a few times. You repeated this enough to get it as lubricant as possible. Then wrapped your fingers in Klaus’s hair to yank him into position again.

“When I fuck you, I want you to tell me how good it feels.”

Your hand was on the tip of the cock to center it between Klaus’s ass. Your other wrapped up in the leather strap to help pull his hips towards you as you slowly plunged inside of him.

“Further,” Klaus managed around the air he finally released from his lungs.

“That wasn’t loud enough,” you informed him. You had his forearms in each hand as you sunk in more.

“Harder!” Klaus raised his voice more. “Fuck me.”

You tugged him backwards by the arms so that the strap on was sheathed by Klaus’s body. He yelled out in shock, so you hesitated in case..

“Fuck me. Hard. I want to feel your hips against my ass.” Klaus begged. He had his neck curved so that his head was facing up. And angle that would catch passersby.

You used Klaus’s arms as leverage. Creating a push and pull as you began slamming into him. How often did he rut against you like an animal when you got fucked from behind. Now you returned the favor.

It wasn't long before Klaus started to make an animal noise each time your pelvis crashed into his ass. Your nails clawed at his arms and tied wrists while you started to jerk your hips like you knew he did. Short bursts then pulled almost out and jerked back in.

“That feels so fucking good,” Klaus’s words were punctuated by your thrusts.

You weren't sure how much longer you could stand. You knew from Klaus that men got off differently this way than women. Parts of him inside were like a clit, but like you he maybe needed manual stimulation too. So you bent over him. You bit his back in the realm of playful crossed with marking your territory as you turned to jerking him off simultaneously.

“Holy shit!” Klaus yelled out. You were so lost in making him cum that you didn't realize he wasn't referring to your hands and dick.

Your gazed matched his to catch slack jawed followers on the sidewalk and patio on the upper level. Some curious, others blazed green with envy as you became theatrical with your fucking. The two of you looking them all dead on.

“What’s wrong?!” Klaus shouted in their direction. “Haven't you ever seen a prophet get ass fucked by someone?! And don't stop, I'm gonna cum.”

You trained your eyes on everyone, and stood. Your hands firmly on Klaus’s arms once more as you buried yourself into him one more time. His body arched and exploded. The sticky substance managed to cover his chest and stomach.

You situated yourself and took the strap-on off. Klaus straightened his body so that he was at his full height. He contorted enough to break free from the belt constraints. His body shook ever so slightly from the orgasm effects while he lifted your palm to his mouth and kissed it. Then bent to kiss you, tongue far inside your mouth. You could taste your cunt on his lips as you danced with him.

“This is what happens, Children, when you become my Chosen One!”

You let a selfish grin play across your lips in response.

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @firstpersonnarrator @super-unpredictable98 @messengeronthemoon @nightmonsters @bisexualnathanyoung @rob-private @forenschik @magic-multicolored-miracle

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan character fic #klaus hargreeves #klaus x reader smut #klaus x reader

[eeveedel]

As we'll have to wait until november to read your full rancher harry fic, do you maybe have a snippet/scene to share right now?

extra long preview for you all! this is after Louis and Harry's first yoga therapy session

--

“Well shit, Louis. I think you managed to wear me the fuck out,” Harry got out. He was still panting, sporting pink cheeks and sweat on his brow, but he was grinning, and that made Louis smile in return.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Louis said. “I know the first time can be challenging.”

“Honestly, at my age, I need a challenge every now and again. Keeps me from getting in a rut.”

Harry wandered back across the room, grabbing the wall as he went, and then grabbed his cane and gripped it hard as he straightened back up.

“You want something to drink?” Harry asked. “I have Diet Coke and sweet tea if you want something that’s not just water.”

“Some tea would be nice.”

“Alright, you got it.”

Harry gave him a smile and then hobbled back down the hall to the kitchen. Louis watched him go and then turned to the wall in front of him and took a moment to take in the photos that lined Harry’s front entryway.

There were plenty of photos of Harry. In all of them, he was younger, thinner, with more of a tan and less gray hair. But it was undeniably Harry.

There were only three pictures of him alone, and two of them were framed magazines. They weren’t magazines Louis recognized, they had titles like “Chasing Rodeo” and “PSN.” One of them featured Harry in the middle of doing some sort of trick; his horse sprinting, a small black calf running in front of them, Harry holding a lasso up high. In the other he was posing, dressed in a black shirt and pants that were accented with silver fringe and turquoise stones, along with a matching cowboy hat. He was grinning and holding the reins of a brown nose with a sharp white streak on her nose, his grinning face framed next to text that read: Harry Styles: Lone Star’s Finest.

Most of the pictures featured Harry with other people. There were a few of him with other men in cowboy hats or with an older couple Louis assumed were his parents. There was one tiny photo, nearly tucked into the corner, of a very young Harry in a baseball uniform, leaned against a battered-looking red Ford. He had a bat swung over one shoulder and his other arm around a girl dressed in a cheerleading uniform, her blonde hair in a bouncy ponytail and her hand on his chest.

But most of the pictures were of the same young boy, many times over, many different ages. There was one of the boy and a much younger Harry; Harry was in a cowboy hat and a white t-shirt, his face unshaven, one hand tightly gripping a cane. He had his arm around the boy, who couldn’t have been older than two and who was wearing only white underpants, a cowboy hat that was twice the size of his tiny head, and a pair of cowboy boots that went up to his thighs. There were pictures of the boy older, fishing in a lake, and then him in baseball, football, and soccer uniforms. The biggest picture was a school picture of him, dated from the last year. He had ash blonde hair that curled at the ends, big brown eyes, crooked teeth confined by braces. The picture must have been taken at the beginning of the school year, close to summer. The boy still had the whisper of freckles on his noses and cheeks and a fading tan.

He looked so much like Harry.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice came from the hallway, startling him. Harry was holding two glasses, both of them were chipped paintings of birds on the sides. He handed Louis one of the glasses, which had cardinals painted on it. “I got your tea.”

“Thank you,” Louis smiled. He took the glass and just held it in his hands, then tilted his chin to the wall, specifically towards the school photo.

“You have a son,” Louis said, and Harry smiled.

“I do,” he said, and turned his gaze to where Louis had been looking. “That’s my Maverick.”

“How old is he?” Louis asked.

“Twelve,” Harry said, “Thirteen in a few weeks.”

“Tough age,” Louis said, and Harry laughed.

“He’s a good kid.”

“Is he here?”

“He lives with his mom in Dallas,” he said. “I get him in the summers, Thanksgiving on odd years and Christmas on even ones.”

Louis’s eyes drifted back to the small photo, the one of a young Harry and the blonde girl.

“That’s his mom?” Louis asked, pointing to it, and Harry nodded.

“Charlotte,” he said. “He looks like his Momma, huh?”

He did; Maverick had clearly gotten Charlotte’s blonde hair and brown eyes, a whisper of her smile. But he clearly had Harry’s features; his jawline and his browbone, his nose, the dimples that were clearly on display when he smiled hard.

“He looks like both of you.”

“Unfortunately for him,” Harry said, but he was smiling, looking fondly at the photos on the wall.

Louis wanted to ask him a dozen questions; about his family, why he was so alone and so far away from his son, the fact that he had clearly been more than just a random amateur rodeo at one point.

Instead, he filled the silence by taking a sip of his tea, and then promptly choked and spit all over Harry’s floor.

Harry looked over, his eyebrows high as he took careful steps towards Louis.

“Are you okay?”

“That –” Louis choked, squeezing his eyes closed. “That’s so sweet.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, and then he let out a laugh, a big, booming laugh. When Louis looked up at him, he tried to stop, but kept grinning.

“You’ve never had real sweet tea before, have you?”

“N-no?” Louis got out, and Harry laughed again. Gently, he took the glass out of Louis’s hand.

“Well, I’ll tell you this right now,” he said. “It’s about one part tea and two parts sugar.”

“Oh,” Louis said, and coughed again, patting his own chest.

“I’ll get you some more water, don’t worry,” Harry said. “And a towel for all this.”

He left for the kitchen again, and returned with a plain glass of water and a yellow kitchen towel. He tossed it on floor and pushed it around with his one good foot, leaning hard on his cane as he wiped it up.

“Harry, I can get that,” Louis said. “I’m really sorry.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of southern hospitality? It’s alright,” Harry said, and then gave Louis a sideways smile. “Besides, I think those stretches did just the trick. I feel more limber already.”

“Well,” Louis said, “I am more than happy to teach you more.”

“Next Sunday?” Harry asked. “Same time.”

Louis nodded, and then bent down to grab the now-wet towel and give it back to Harry.

“I’ll be free.”

#rancher harry

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Oscar Isaac Drabble

This is based around Oscar Isaac Bullshit Times™ with @mylifeisactuallyamess. I really liked this drabble, and I didn't want it to get lost in the reblogs. <3

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff.

When the two of you decided you were going to sit out by the fire pit, you didn’t anticipate it getting so cold. The flames were roaring and Oscar had pulled your chair close to him. Nights like tonight made you remember why you fell for him in the first place. His salt and pepper hair was tied up in a messy man-bun. He had on a black hoodie and a pair of grey sweats. He looked absolutely comfortable. He pulled out his guitar and started playing random cords.

"Will you sing to me?" You ask him quietly. He nods and starts playing. You quickly recognize the lyrics of ‘Never Had’. His voice is like honey, soothing you as you sway to the tune. That was always your favorite. You watch as a look of peace crosses his face as he continues. He opened his eyes to find you looking at him and he can’t help but smile. To him, this is when you are the most beautiful. Your yoga pants, his Metallica hoodie, no make-up on, all come together to make you, you.

When the song was over, he placed the guitar back in its case and pulled you into his lap. "You okay, querida?" He whispers low in your ear. The coarse hair of his beard tickled the back of your neck when he spoke.

You nuzzled closer to him, settling comfortably in his arms. "I'm perfect, baby." Oscar couldn’t agree more. You are perfect. The timing is perfect. He maneuvered you so that you were sitting sideways on his lap, legs draped over the side of his chair. “Are you alright?” You questioned.

He nodded, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. “You know that I love you, right?” He said as he pulled away from you. You gave him a weird look, but said yes anyways. He reached into the pocket of his sweats, pulling out a black box. Your heart dropped.

“You are the best thing in my life, querida. And I don’t think I can live another day not knowing if you’ll be mine forever.” He paused, to open the box revealing a gorgeous ring. “Please marry me. I promise I’ll sing to you every day for the rest of our lives.” He popped THE question.

You started to nod vigorously. “Yes, yes, of course, I’ll marry you.” You sniffled as he slid the ring onto your fourth left finger.

“Te amo mucho, mi vida.”

#oscar isaac drabble #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac smut #still in my oscar feels #kat writes #oscar isaac bullshit hours

[chilling-seavey]

Family beach day blurb with the pics of Daniel on the paddle board as inspo!!

Bro…my literal favourite kind of ask yesss 🧡

For those living under a rock, or have yet to follow me for my daily Seavey updates, these are the pictures used for inspo:

Thursday, July 22, 2032

I’ll be working on another ask about more details of this little vacation (now that I kind of have my inspo for a vacation I can answer that one that’s been in my mailbox for ever lol) but basically what you need to know is Daniel often was sent on weekend/three-day business trips to LA once in a while – maybe once or sometimes twice a year - just to work with the main office down there and some other clients. So when another trip lined up with summer break, Florence and Daniel took that opportunity to pay extra to stay an extra week and bring the whole family of five down to LA.

Daniel had to work for the first bit of their trip – they arrived on the Sunday morning and he worked Monday-Wednesday – and then the rest of the week they all had free. LA heat was no joke compared to Toronto summers and the family hit the beach all together as soon as they could.

Clementine was thirteen and was more than ready to show off her brand-new bikini to the California guys. Daniel would have stapled a cover up on her if he could have. Penelope and Lucy were just excited to go swimming in the ocean. They set up their stuff in an empty space of sand on the beach, laying out towels and their bags and passed around the sunscreen.

Penelope hated sunscreen and she had the hugest cringe on her face as Daniel slathered her up, making sure to get her shoulders and nose until she was squirming away, “Okay, okay, okay, that’s fine!”

“I wanna lick it.” Lucy giggled, sticking her tongue out and trying to squirt a bit of sunscreen out from the bottle.

“Oh my gosh, do not do that.” Daniel laughed, snatching the bottle from her. “Hair up.”

Lucy scrunched her hair up off her shoulders to let him apply her sunscreen, nearly bouncing on her toes with excitement. At freshly eight-years-old, she felt like a whole grownup and the idea of swimming in the ocean without direct parental supervision was revolutionary to her.

Clementine had put her own sunscreen on and dropped her cover up incredibly dramatically, making her parents glance at each other as they held back their laughter at their barely-a-teenager.

“Turn.” Daniel said, the youngest doing a little spin to face him and she scrunched her eyes closed to let him apply sunscreen to her face. With a poke to her nose she was done and Daniel tossed the bottle of sunscreen onto the towel, wiping the excess cream from his hands onto himself.

“Can we go now?” Penelope asked, trying to rub off the sticky sunscreen from her skin.

“We have something planned first.” Florence said.

“What?” Clementine frowned, having already secured her spot on the towel to ‘tan’.

“You and your underage self are going to do some paddle board yoga with us.” Daniel said with a smirk at her glare.

“What’s that?” Lucy asked as they made their way down the beach.

“It’s like a class where they teach you yoga on the water!” Florence explained, taking her hand as they walked.

“So…like…something for old people.” Penelope mumbled.

“Not really.” Daniel snorted. “I have not seen a single old person doing this.”

“Your dad did it once.” Florence said.

“A while ago but, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Daniel laughed. “So, yes, I have seen an old person do this.”

They got checked in at the booth, the parents signing a few forms first before they got their boards and the girls waited impatiently with them. Florence slipped her arm around Daniel’s back and rested her chin on his shoulder to whisper a little, “Why do you always have to look so hot?”

His little smirk made her smile and he passed the clipboard back to the lady at the stand and then looked to his wife, pulling her close by her waist with a soft, “Wondering the same thing about you, baby.”

“Can we get a move on?” Lucy grabbed Daniel’s other hand before he could even lean down to kiss his wife and pulled him off towards the water.

They all got their boards and paddles and the instructor led them out into the water. The main goal was to not fall off the board which honestly was easier said than done and as Florence already had fallen off twice just trying to paddle out to deeper water. Honestly Penelope was no better and she could barely get standing without wiping out.

Daniel was doing just fine and Clementine managed to get standing beside him on her board with reasonable ease, Lucy standing on wobbly legs with her arms outstretched and bum stuck out to try not to fall.

“With your arms raised, we’re going to balance on one foot, like so.” The instructor imitated the pose from the centre of their little circle.

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen.” Florence snorted to herself, making Daniel laugh from her left as he adjusted the board with the paddle.

“Gotta try, Flora.” he said, raising his palms together above his head. “Trying new things today.”

“Come on, Mommy!” Lucy grinned, shaking like hell on her board with her terrible form, looking more like an excited puppy wagging its tail than a calm yoga student.

“Lucy-” Clementine laughed just as the youngest sister completely wiped out with a huge splash and the board nearly went flying.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna pee my pants!” Penelope shrieked with laughter, barely able to catch herself before she was stumbling into the water too, making Daniel wobble a little through his own laughter before steadying himself.

“What is with you guys?” Clementine whispered through her concentration, her hands above her head as she slowly raised her right foot to her opposite knee.

“Geez, Clem, look at you.” Florence said with a small applause.

“Why are you making it look so easy?” Lucy grumbled, climbing back onto her board, her blonde hair plastered over her face and shoulders with sea water.

“Because it is easy.” Daniel whispered through his perfect pose.

The group held it for a moment before the instructor moved onto the next pose, “Now carefully get on your knees.”

Daniel glanced over at Florence with a cheeky smirk as he sunk down, “Come on, baby. I know you’re good at this.”

“Daniel James.” Florence gaped, throwing a wave of water at him.

The instructor continued, “And you’re going to anchor your hands on the side of the board, spread your weight between your arms and your head and push into a handstand.”

Daniel took a second to watch the girls try first; Lucy getting too excited and doing a complete back flop right off the board and into the water, Penelope being too nervous to even push herself up with enough power to make a solid handstand. Clementine managed a little but her legs were off and she ended up falling sideways into the water, pulling herself back out with heavy coughs.

“I inhaled sea water! Bleh!” she pushed her hair out of her face as she climbed back on the board.

Daniel could only laugh at his sweet girls trying their hardest.

“Your turn, Daddy.” Penelope said.

“It’s not easy, thank you very much!” Lucy added.

He could only smile to himself as he set his hands tightly on the side of the board and leaned forward, carefully and slowly raising his legs up to keep his weight centred before finishing in a perfect handstand on the board.

The four girls simply gaped at him.

“It’s perfectly easy, Luce.” Daniel chuckled, his form earning a round of applause from the rest of the group as well as the instructor.

“Show off.” Clementine nudged his board with her paddle enough to get him to topple over into the water. His impact splashed Florence completely and nearly took her down with him, the whole family erupting in laughter as he surfaced again with his hair plastered over his forehead.

“You look like an egg, Daddy!” Lucy shrieked, laughing so hard she fell off her own board again.

Even the rest of the group laughed at the eight-year-old’s comment and Daniel ruffled a hand through his hair to try and give it some sort of volume.

“Not gonna work, baby.” Florence teased. “Not until it dries a little.”

“Come here.” Daniel swam a few paces over to her board where she sat with one leg on either side. He grabbed her arm and puckered out his lips for a kiss.

“Go away!” Florence laughed as he tried to pull her down to him.

“Pull her in the water!” Clementine said.

“No! Don’t you dare! Daniel!” Florence shrieked as he pushed himself out of the water just enough to wrap an arm around her waist and yanked her right off the board. She tried to stay on by linking her thighs tighter around the board, pushing her hand against his chest to try and keep him away from her. “Daniel James-!”

He cut her scream off by just flipping the board with her on it, taking himself down with her, submerging them both under water. Daniel pulled her to the surface, arms tucked around her waist to keep her from getting away, pressing a strong kiss to her lips as she pushed her hair out of her face.

“Oh my gosh, baby.” Florence flushed with embarrassment as the rest of the class looked on, her arms around his shoulders and their bodies pressed up tightly together in the water, but he just hid his proud smirk into her neck, leaving kisses over her wet skin.

“Oh my gosh is right.” Clementine rolled her eyes. “Get a room.”

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we #why dont we imagines #anything but mine

[finleyjayne]

Silent Echoes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: may have missed a few swears while editing... IDK excessive Beyonce (Can that even be a thing), Mentions of previous sound deprivation.

Summary: Bucky and Sam have a friendly feud that will last for the decades. This time Sam’s immaturity reaches extremes and Bucky is ready to gouge his ears out. Will you sacrifice your own peace to help Bucky, or are you going to leave him to stew in his self made agony.

Word Count:1,241

Bucky was always surprised by the range of sounds that surrounded him every day. No matter where he went, there was some kind of noise.  Even when he was wandering the half-empty halls of the compound or trying to find peace in the nearby wildlife. It didn't even matter the time of day. Chatter, arguments, gunshots, the clicking of type keys, songbirds, owls, snoring, panting, and music.  

Don't get him wrong it wasn't that Bucky hated the symphony that surrounded him. Often times, he found himself sitting out of the way just listening to the choirs that he could hear. It was preferable to the silence that had surrounded him during his time with HYDRA. They had been vigilant in keeping him from overhearing anything that could have derailed his compliance and, therefore, had soundproofed everything tenfold. 

Today, however, the noise had gotten to be too much. It took every ounce of willpower in Bucky's enhanced being not to stuff his ears with cotton and scream himself just to drown out the sounds. It didn't help that Sam was on his case about his "outdated" sense in music, again. Blasting Tupac, Beyonce, and a multitude of other LOUD musicians, so loud that even if Bucky wasn't enhanced, he would still be able to hear it in any of the Avengers' designated rooms of the compound. Since he WAS, though, he ended up being physically unable to get far enough away from the petulant man-child's antics. 

Taking a deep breath, Bucky stared into the high skylights of his current hiding place, fighting back the frustrated tears that were pushing against his eyelids. There has to be someplace where the noise stops. Somewhere where he can sit and not be distracted by someone's footsteps or triggered by someone's idle conversations. Someplace safe.

Before Bucky could fall further into his frustrations, a soft set of footprints danced their way to the opposite side of the sparring mats where he laid sprawled out on his back. He looked up to see you execute a perfect tumbling pass only to end up lying on your back perpendicular to him, your head gently coming to rest on his hard belly.

"SO, what did you do to get Sam riled up this time?" You say, draping your friend and teammate's arm out from under you before playing with his fingers. "Honestly, I have no clue," He sighs, causing you to look up into his face. "I wish I knew how to make it stop, though." He looked at you with the most sincere puppy-dog eyes you have ever seen, the unshed tears enhancing your view into his hopelessness.

"So you didn't happen to say, 'Sam shut off that shit, or I swear to god I will beat you until you no longer have any hearing left,' or some such nonsense while he was listening to Beyonce on repeat this morning?" You smirk, knowing full well that he did. "You recognize that he worships that woman. He could put Tony's obsession with himself to shame."

Sighing, he looks away, "Yeah, But can you blame me? He had been listening to the ONE song for Hours, Echo. HOURS." 

Smiling at him sympathetically. "Winter, you could've been a bit nicer. Though honestly, if you hadn't done it, I would have. I don't think he realizes how much we can hear. I know Steve just dealt with his antics because he's a saint. But sadly, neither of us are, and he isn't here to curb Sam's crazy."

Bucky grimaces at the reminder of his best friend's newfound sabbatical. "Yeah, Steve is good at that sort of thing. But that doesn't solve our current problem. How are we going to get him to stop?"

"We don't need him to stop, you need him to stop," you correct your now perplexed human pillow. "I fully intend to use my own personal Batcave. Wait out the worst of the storm. According to FRIDAY's statistics, he should get tired of this shit in about three hours, should be just enough time to read a romance novel, take a nap, and maybe even paint a little bit." 

You could feel the eyebrows on Bucky's raise in disbelief. "You can't possibly have somewhere on base that can block out sound well enough for you to not hear this hysteria." 

Laughing, "You think I didn't make that my first stipulation when I moved into this madhouse to join this merry band of heroic misfits?   I knew you've taken your fair share of head blows, but I thought the glowing blue stuff they filled your veins with prevented CTE." You lean up onto your grounded forearm into a sideways plank before flipping into a cartwheel over Bucky's chest. "I'm not sure how you haven't found it. Tony made it into a literal dead zone. It's like a giant box of silence that sound bounces off of like steve's patriotic frisbee and BBEG noggins." 

Bucky shakes his head, bemused by your antics. "Doll, if you haven't noticed, I don't echolocate shit. That's what you are paid for. and I figured that since your private rooms were basically soundproof that Tony had done his best."

Still smirking playfully at him. "Stark rarely does less than perfect work, Barnes, especially when he pairs his brain with Shuri's. You should know that since you wear one of their mechanical miracles connected to your shoulder almost all the time." 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want," He mutters.

"Hey, don't be such a leech." You say, nudging the aforementioned limb with your toe. 

Staring up at you defensively, he pouts, "I am not a leech, what does that even mean?

"It means you suck all of the joy out of me teasing you. You know I don't mean to cause harm, I care for you and all the shiny, mechanical bits that come along for the ride."

He scrunches his face up in distaste. "Thanks, I guess." He mutters, before quickly changing the subject, "So you said something about a bat cave? Since you care for me so much, does that mean you'll take pity on my soul and take me with you?" at this point, he would do anything to keep from having to listen to the blasting beats Sam kept popping out of what feels like nowhere.

"I don't know, Bucky. It might not be up to your sensibilities."

"Please don't make me beg." He states, staring up at your mock contemplation. He watches as the corners of your lips twitch ever so slightly. 

"What will you do for me if I share?"

"I am sorely tempted to say anything, but I'm sure I will regret it if I do. What would you like me to do for you?" He says, his eyes pleading with you to go easy on him.

"Is there any chance of convincing you to read my penny romance to me?" "If it gets me out of this endless tirade of music, I will even act out all the kissing scenes for you. Just show me the way, dollface."

"Well, if you are offering, I definitely can't say no to watching your performance, Mr. Barnes." You smile and turn toward the abandoned yoga studio in the back corner of the training area. 

Bucky groans as he gets up from the floor. Unsure of whether or not he just wrote himself a death sentence by romance novel instead of by music.

#reader insert #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine #reader #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #finleyjayne #fins reads #fins' fic recs #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #fic reblog

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous; a continuation of this)

“49...50.” Hoshiguma lifted up Ch’en’s bar as she completed her set. “Alright, looking good.”

“If I only...did 30...would you say the...same thing?” Her partner stood up, taking deep breaths.

Hoshi shrugged. “If you did more weight each rep.”

“Fair. I’ve got to get ready for my shift.” She kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll call you when I’m heading home.”

“Don’t work too hard.” Hoshiguma watched her head off to the locker room, whistling just as Ch’en walked past Saria coming the other way, and chuckled when her fiance spun around to give her a glare. Classic Ch’en.

Saria walked up to her as she was racking on more weight. “Good afternoon, Hoshiguma.”

“Afternoon, Saria.” She smiled. “Where’s your wife?”

“At her office; If I could drag her in here, believe me, I would. How’ve you been?”

Hoshi laid down on the bench to start her set. “Can’t complain - got engaged, have a regular assignment here on-base and a raise to go with it, and my fiance is spending less time at work doing more than she reasonably should. You? Oh, and while you’re here, mind spotting me?”

“Ready when you are.” As the oni began pumping her iron, Saria answered her other question. “Silence and I are still working out a few issues; we both got used to being alone after awhile, so there are times we argue more than we really should after all this time. Ifrit has a friend now - the Caprinae girl, um...what’s her name...”

“Eyjafalla,” Hoshiguma grunted.

Saria nodded. “Right, right. 35, by the way. She asked me the other day if I’d let her go to a  geology forum with Eyja next month, and I told her to make a leave request with the Doctor, and Silence got mad at me.”

“Why?” She set her bar back on the rest after 66 reps. “Ifrit’s not that young...and Eyja needs someone with her because of her sensory issues.”

“That’s what I told her. She didn’t like that.”

Hoshi shook her head. “Well, can’t help you there. Ch’en got onto me the other night for ambushing her in the kitchen when she got home and started making a snack.”

“Tell me about it,” Saria commiserated. “It’s not my fault she works long hours, nor is it really hers, and if she’d let me tire her out a bit before bed, she’d sleep better, anyway.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the issue. I got jelly on her pants.”

She took a moment to process that. “Did it stain?”

“I guess?” Hoshiguma shrugged. “They looked fine to me.”

“Silence and I are both careful about that sort of thing; want me to give you some tips?”

She nodded. “Sure, sure...but first, do you want a turn on the bench?”

“As nice as it is to talk to you, that is why I’m here,” Saria replied. “Just tell me when I get to 100.”

“100? Damnit, I should have kept going...”

-

The next week, Saria and Hoshiguma met up again, this time in the locker room after working out in different parts of the gym. “Hey, Saria. Still no Silence?”

“Dobermann found someone to start a yoga class, so in a way, she is coming to the gym.” She chuckled to herself. “Are you and Ch’en busy this evening? The wife and I were thinking we could do a couples’ watch of the film that’s coming out tonight.”

“What film?”

Saria blinked. “You don’t know about The Devil’s Own Luck?”

“Oh, that one.” Hoshiguma shook her head. “Heard of it, never thought about going to see it. Ch’en and I are a diehard action movie couple.”

“Even when you’re off-duty?”

Hoshi grinned. “Especially when we’re off-duty. There’s another one coming out in a couple weeks, one of FEater’s, actually. Supposed to be an action/rom-com mix about a martial arts instructor falling in love with a student whose family runs a competing dojo. Maybe we could do that?”

“I’ll ask her when I get home tonight.” Saria sighed as she finished repacking her gym bag. “You ever thought about having kids?”

“A little bit hard to do considering my choice of life partner, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Have you ever thought about adopting, then?”

“I...no.” Hoshiguma was pulling on her boots. “Ch’en and I both work the sort of job that I don’t want to put a kid through. Why?”

“I need a babysitter for a few months from now, wanted to see if you’d be up for it.”

Hoshi’s eyes lit up. “I can watch Ifrit for a while. How long?”

“A week? Silence and I want to go on a couples’ retreat the Doctor’s sponsoring.” Saria watched her for a moment. “You changed your tune rather fast.”

“Oh, the couples’ retreat, right...we’re going on that one, too. I mean, I’ll take care of a kid for a bit, no problem, it’s just taking care of one fulll-time that’s an issue. Don’t want them scared one of their moms is gonna come home in a bodybag on a school night if I can help it.”

She nodded. “I can understand that. Hmm...Guess I’ll ask Flamebringer and Lena if they’ll do it. Silence should be done by now, so I’m going to head out.”

“Don’t forget, Punch to the Chest with me and Ch’en this next Friday.”

“I won’t.” As Saria left the locker room, she prepared herself. ‘Question is, does this mean I’m still going to the theatre tonight, or...’

-

“I had no idea FEater could act,” Silence noted as she left the theatre, arm-in-arm with Saria.

Next to her, Ch’en’s eyes lit up. “You should see her in Unwanted Visitors. She plays the maid in that movie, and you would never recognize her.”

“I’ve seen that movie,” the doctor replied, “and I certainly didn’t. She did her own stunts, I assume?”

“Of course. In that one scene, actually...”

As they carried on, Saria and Hoshi shared a glance on the other side. “Another convert,” the oni smiled.

“I’m hoping this will motivate her to come with me to the gym.” She flipped her hair back. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“Any time. Hey, Ch’en, are we going to the bar after this?”

Muttering from the other side. “Maybe later? Saria, can I borrow Silence to go gi-shopping?”

“Gi-shopping?” Saria shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll see you later tonight.” Silence squeezed her wife’s hand before following Ch’en in another direction.

Hoshiguma sighed. “Well, I’m heading to the bar. You wanna come along?”

“Sure - I could use a drink.”

“Just one?” She smiled. “If you say so.”

Saria glared at her - not at full power, just enough to be felt. “I meant at least one...but I’d rather not smell like beer after we’re done.”

“Fair. Tell you what - I’ll buy.”

“No, I’ll pay for myself.” She patted her pocket. “You and Ch’en bought the tickets, after all.”

Hoshi shrugged. “Suit yourself.” They made their way to Hoshiguma’s usual place, each ordered a beer, and settled into a pair of bar stools.

“They hit it off surprisingly well, didn’t they?” Saria noted before taking a long swig.

“It makes sense to me,”  she admittted. “Ch’en’s closer to the two of you than I am, personality-wise.”

Her drinking buddy gave her a sideways glance. “You think I’m more like Ch’en than you?”

“Home is where the heart is, and hers is at the office like the two of you. Mine’s here.” For the first time that evening, Hoshiguma’s eyes were downcast, tracing grains in the bar’s wooden counter.

“I wouldn’t say my heart’s at the office,” Saria protested. “Silence, I’d agree, lives in her office even off-duty, but I don’t stay long hours to finish a project I started that day unless it needs to be done.”

The oni looked back at her. “But you still have an office, right?”

“I have a lab.”

“Well, I don’t have a place like that.” Hoshi’s eyes returned to the counter. “I work patrols around the building that rarely start and stop in the same place two days in a row, so the only places I see more than twice a week are my apartment and this bar. Ch’en doesn’t get it, and I doubt either of you would, so you’re closer to Ch’en than me.”

She shook her head. “Where are you going with this?”

“That’s another thing: you, Silence, and Ch’en all care about appearances more than I do. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve been watching TV, spilled a drink on my shirt, and let it sit there until the next time I do laundry. It just doesn’t come to mind.”

“Hoshi, are you alright?” Saria set her beer to the side. “I haven’t heard you talk like this since we first met.”

She nodded. “I know you haven’t...Saria, do you know what scares me the most?”

“Losing Ch’en?”

“...Sort of.” Hoshiguma sighed. “You ever buried someone before?”

Saria shook her head. “I’ve had patients die on me, but the bodies were usually cremated after death. Too dangerous to the environment to bury, if I’m honest...which I should have taken as a sign earlier than I did.”

“Alright, well let me tell you: it sucks. The whole time you’re digging, you’re reliving the time you spent with them - the bad moments stick longer than the good moments, and the regrets stick for weeks and months after you put them in the ground. Worse than all that, though, is when you’ve set them in the hole, and you throw that first shovelful of dirt on top...because that’s the moment you realize they’re really gone. I’m scared of that moment more than I am of dying myself.”

“I can understand that.” She finished her first beer and flashed the bartender a single finger. “I don’t want to imagine living without Silence again.”

Hoshi shook her head. “It’s not even that...I don’t want to have any regrets about not having spent more time with her, but if she’s married to her work, then...can she really be married to me, too?”

“...I’d never thought of it like that before.”

“It’s all I’ve thought about since buying her a ring.” She sighed. “Maybe we were wrong about all of this.”

Saria punched her in the shoulder. “Stop it.”

“Huh? Did you just-”

“Look at me, Hoshi.” There was suddenly a fire in her eyes. “Can you look me in the eye and say you don’t love Ch’en?”

Hoshiguma’s brow furrowed. “You punched me.”

“Hoshi.”

“You know damn well I never could.” She had a realization. “Is that why you and Silence work?”

Saria laughed. “I wouldn't say that. We made our bed, and we lie in it every night after we come home at around 11, dead tired, but too comfortable with each other to find something else. Not that I’d ever want to.”

“Yeah...You ever catch yourself window-shopping?”

“Hell, Silence and I have both caught each other doing it.” She chuckled. “A couple of times, we watched the same person as they walked past us. Got to the point we’d talk about them after the fact, actually. Why do you ask?”

Hoshiguma downed her third beer, staring at it for a moment, before she continued. “Ever look at me like that?”

“Yeah, I’ll admit to that. You’re a good woman and a good-looking one.”

“Right back at you.” Hoshi looked back at her. “Silence ever say something like that?”

Saria nodded. “Had a whole talk about you and Ch’en both.”

“...Tonight, when Ch’en gets back from her shopping trip, she and I are gonna need to have a talk. Thanks for being honest with me, Saria.”

“Of course.” She held her bottle out to Hoshiguma. “I’ll never be anything but honest with you. You have my word.”

Hoshi extended her hand out, and their bottles made a satisfying clink. “To honesty, and mutual appreciation of good women.”

“Hear-hear.”

#arknights #saria (arknights) #hoshiguma (arknights) #the request was 'hoshi and saria together' maybe friends maybe more #so we got a bit of both sides of the coin in this one #arknights fic

[bittermarrow]

Yoga Pants // (Thomas Hewitt x Reader NSFW)

@imconfused28 said:

Will you do a request of my man Thomas Hewitt seeing his girl in yoga pants for the first time? NSFW is always a plus! Thanks

A/n: This request is mm-mm good ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) You’ve created a monster. I went a bit overboard and this ended up being 70% smut, but hey! In my defense, you did say “NSFW is always a plus!” so… I unknowingly proceeded in a disorderly and thirsty fashion because I don’t know when to hold back.

Warnings: NSFW as heck. Violence, i.e. you choking a bitch.

Words: 3700+

.   .   .

You weren’t really a big fan of snagging clothes off of victims, especially since you were allowed to pick up some with Luda Mae once a month now that the Hewitts trusted you. But you saw those expensive-as-hell yoga pants on that one girl Thomas was carrying down to the basement and snatched those fuckers like Black Friday came early. Of course, Thomas didn’t think much of it at the time, his one-track mind was set on cutting up the meat for dinner rather than worrying about a pair of pants.

You gave them a good wash with the rest of the laundry, managing to rid them of any and all gore stains before even considering wearing them.

You let the steaming hot stream of water run down your sides and wash away a good three day’s worth of grime after Charlie finally managed to fix the busted plumbing after a trespasser somehow screwed it up. You skimmed your fingers over the darkening bruises flowering over your stomach and lower back, the skin lightly battered and aching from the scrambling hands of some victim you’d ran into and had to fight to the ground to prevent them from escaping.

Coincidentally the guy turned out to be yoga pants' boyfriend.

You were proud to say that the guy looked a lot worse than you and that you had no doubt held the upper-hand throughout most of the fight, but he did land some good hits on you and his nails dug in pretty deep on your side. At the time the pain only pissed you off more and gave you the adrenaline spike you needed to pin him down, your hands squeezing firmly around his windpipe just enough to knock him out, restricting the airflow to his lungs and forcing out choked hasps from his pathetic throat. You’d strangled him into unconsciousness before Thomas even got to you, hearing the sounds of your struggling voice and thumps against the walls. But those nail-marks and bruises sure were stinging now.

You avoided mentioning your discomfort from the bruises to Thomas, who luckily hadn’t seen you without a shirt long enough to notice the marks since the occurrence just yesterday afternoon.

You shut off the tap and wrung your hair out before stepping out into the foggy-humid air of the bathroom, the water sliding down your legs dripped onto the shaggy rug underneath you as you dried off with a towel. You began getting dressed, pulling on a loose-fitting light T-shirt before pulling on those sleek yoga pants. You were surprised by how well they fit, it wasn’t often you found victims with clothes in your size. You hadn’t had the chance to wear pants like these since you lived back home, before all of this chaotic cannibalistic stuff. You missed being able to wear such figure-complimentary attire, being able to move and do your work while still looking good.

You dried your hair a bit more with the towel and ran a brush through the dampness of it before stalking out into the hall, already heading out back to help Luda hang up the laundry and start your morning chores like normal, but have to remind yourself that it’s Sunday. Sundays were pretty much ‘do absolutely nothing and lay around,’ days for the Hewitts, this was mainly because the game was on and this was the only lazy day anyone was allowed.

Well, laundry with Luda Mae was still a must, so you went about your morning hanging clothes up on the clothesline and making small talk with her. After a good twenty-thirty minutes of pinning sheets and whites while lighthearted joking amongst each other you both headed inside just as breakfast was getting put on the table.

Most of the family was already there when you two came in, talking about the first quarter of this morning’s game while passing around the syrup and butter. You sat down next to Thomas’s empty chair and glanced around the room for your gentle giant, but he was nowhere in sight. Odd, he was rarely the last to the table to any meal.

Luda Mae patted your shoulder to gather your attention, her too noticing the absence of her youngest son.

“Can ya go fetch Tommy for me? he might still be in the basement.”

.   .   .

You find Thomas in the basement as Luda had predicted, hunched over his work table sewing flimsy strips of flesh together with a large needle and thread. As you approached you could see that the new mask was nearly done, Thomas was hand-stitching the last touch-ups like he normally did after it became unnecessary to use his sewing machine. You couldn’t help but smile softly, having watched him do this countless times, but his gentleness while sewing these always reminded you of how careful he could be.

You walked up behind him, pressing yourself up against his back and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Hey, breakfast is ready, better come up before you give Mama an aneurysm.” You joke softly, hearing as well as feeling a rumbling chuckle reverberate beneath your fingertips tracing shapes on his chest. He set his work in progress aside and wiped his hands with a towel before reaching an arm back around you to pull you into his lap.

You snort and stifle a laugh as you shift around until you are facing him with your knees bracketing his waist, you lean forward into his chest and his bulky arms squeeze around you.

“I missed you too.” You mumble into his collarbone taking in his musky scent, nuzzling further into him. Thomas sighs into your hair and you want to forget about breakfast for a moment, content with just sitting here for a while. But your stomach does not agree with you one bit.

You swing a leg over his lap to sit sideways and try to pry his arms from around you.

“C’mon, let’s eat.” Thomas groans but reluctantly loosens his grip around you, allowing you to slide off his legs. He’s up after you and has one of your hands as you climb the stairs of the basement to the dining room, luckily in time to fill your plates before most of the breakfast was gone.

.   .   .

You feel Thomas’s hand on your leg through the entirety of the meal, not necessarily in a sexual way, just feeling. You figure he must have noticed your yoga pants and liked the material, and it didn’t bother you, so you let him.

After finishing up, Thomas’s hand didn’t stray from your hip as you headed upstairs to your room for your alone time, which usually consisted of you reading or talking to him as you snuggled up against each other on the floor or bed. You had expected him to trek back down to the basement to grab his mask and finish it upstairs with you, but he seemed adamant to stick by your side today, and you couldn’t complain.

But you also didn’t notice the way Thomas was looking at you, eyes fixed on your legs and hips in those pants. You hadn’t ever really worn anything like those around him before. And Sure, you’d worn much more revealing stuff to accommodate the heat, but something about the material and smallness of what you had on now drew his attention to your generous backside and wound his nerves tight. His face was heating up under the mask of dried flesh around his features. Thomas wasn’t really shy with staring anymore, especially since you’d mentioned on several occasions that you liked it, but he still couldn’t help but feel like he needed your permission to look at you like this.

You are just a few steps away from the now-closed bedroom door and mid-sentence when you feel Thomas’s large hand sliding away from your hip and down to your backside. You gasp and stop walking immediately, your face heating up before a smug grin crept up to your lips upon the realization that he might like those pants a little more than you thought.

You did have the whole day to yourselves, and it wasn’t often you got opportunities like these.

You attempt to smother a giggle in the back of your throat and turn around to face Thomas who appeared to have braced himself for your response, you may have sex often and he rarely has trouble initiating it, but he’s still a bit timid with these things. Afraid of making you uncomfortable or doing something wrong, you’re prepared to be-rid him of those feelings.

Your smile is innocent, warm, but your eyes are coy and deceiving. You catch a glimpse of Thomas’s Adam's apple shuddering under a gulp as he was backed up into a wall, with his consent, of course, otherwise moving him would be impossible. It was a sight to behold, someone two-three times your size at your mercy, it was almost funny.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” You ask in an accusatory and semi-authoritative tone, playful but firm. Thomas shrugs and avoids your eyes, you could almost see the splotches of red peeking out of the gaps in his mask. He was also beginning to sweat. “Eyes on me.” You reminded, and his dark brown eyes obeyed, flickering back up to yours.

“Naughty, you really like these don’t you?” You grab his hand and place it over one of your spandex-covered thighs, drawing out a runt and a small-but-eager nod. You grin and lean forward to press yourself fully against him, guiding both of his hand to your ass and clutching his biceps for something to hold onto. “Me too, I like how they feel.”

Thomas hums as if to agree, but it sounds distant because his attention has centered on the feeling of the soft cushions of flesh against his twitching palms. His fingers kneaded the softness of your ass and your eyelids fluttered at the feeling, you stretch your arms up as far as they can and stand on the tips of your toes in an attempt to reach up around his neck.

Thomas got the message and bend down to your height so you could loop your arms around the back of his head and pull him into an unhurried and passionate kiss. Your nose bumps into the rough dry leathery material of his mask distractingly, but you don't ask him to take it off, not yet.

It would take too much air, and you honestly quite liked the idea of him keeping it on while he fucked you. Just for a little while, it reminds you of a time where his mask was his face to you. It's as morbid as it is sexy to you because it's was what you became accustomed to. And sure, you adored his real face much more, but you didn't hate his fake one all that much either.

Thomas pulled you against him tighter, a growl forming deep in his throat and vibrating pleasantly against your lips as your stomach presses against his rapidly hardening erection. His meaty hands are already tugging at your shirt, and you almost let him strip it off, but instead, you push his insistent fingers away from your hemline and press one last chaste kiss on his soft lips and turn around.

You were not at all experienced in being “seductive” in this way, and you could feel your face burning up to dangerous levels as your blood settled behind your scarlet flushing cheeks. Surely Thomas is confused, and you are correct in your assumption, he even thinks you're going to walk away for a split second as you turn your back to him. But he is quickly proven wrong when you back up into him, bending over ever so slightly and press your ass right up against his crotch. Thomas breathes in sharply and you can feel him twitch against you, you try to focus on that instead of the absolutely obscene view you are giving him and can't help but grind backward onto him when you hear him start to pant.

You do not expect Thomas to move much, thinking he's practically paralyzed or unsure of how to recuperate. So when you hear him make an almost animalistic noise and feel him grab onto your hips in a bruising grip, you can't choke down the cry of surprise when one of his arms locks around your waist and crushes you against the solid shape of his chest. Your hands fly back to hold onto his forearms and you tug, he doesn't budge, and the display of his strength compared to yours sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine and a shot of arousal between your lightly trembling legs.

“Thomas, touch here.” Your voice penetrated the air like a pin in a silent room and cuts through his resistance as he recognizes your words as offered guidance, and you've discovered he likes being bossed around in the bedroom. For one, he likes pleasing you, secondly, he likes being told what you want him to do even if he knows very well what makes you squirm. He’s like moldable putty, you can shape him into whatever you desire, but Thomas just likes you to tell him exactly how to give you pleasure, especially in explicit terms.

In other words, Tommy was a sucker for pillow talk.

He lets you pet his hands away from your hip and waist and drag them up to your plush chest. Your huge man squeezes his hands over your breasts enthusiastically and buries his face into the back of your shoulder when you resume a steady grind against his throbbing cock through the seemingly too-thick-for-comfort layers of clothing. His hips buck involuntarily against your ass during a particularly hard thrust against him and the movement allows his bulge to wedge in between your cheeks and press against you in a way that makes you moan distractedly.

Gaining the confidence you needed from his quiet whimpers and groans into your neck and shoulder, you pull out of his reach once again. You lean over the edge of the bed and look over your shoulder at a frazzled Thomas, who is straight out staring at your ass and thighs— and most likely the wet spot where you've soaked through your panties and now started to seep through your yoga pants. You hadn't even noticed how wet grinding against him had made you, and by the look in his face, neither did he.

You wriggle your hips in his direction, encouraging him to come over without words. He scrambles over so fast it’s almost a little funny, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from potentially sending him mixed signals by laughing. After all, you find his enthusiasm incredibly sexy, And, who wouldn't want to bend over you after getting teased so much?

You feel him lean over you, his chest and stomach pressing up against your back, hairy arms caging you and his hips laying flat against your tempting behind. You groan into the sheets as his probably painful erection brushes against you once again, you decide to have mercy on both of your by reaching back and snapping and pulling on his zipper, you allow his cock to slip out of his pants. The moment his bare flesh brushing against your inner thigh you are pressed down deeper into the sheets, his hands curling around your wrists and holding them down to the mattress. You gasp and moan as he takes control over your movement and a flood of pleasure sparks between your legs as his cock slides in between your thighs.

You close your thighs around him so he is squeezed tighter against your core and the soft spandex covering your skin.

“Mhh, I want you to fuck my thighs, Baby, can you do that for me?” You squeeze out through rough pants, and you hear Thomas whine loudly against your shoulder blade.

The hulking man nods frantically against your shoulder and releases your hands to grab your subconsciously gyrating hips. The first few thrusts between the gap between your thighs are stuttering and unpracticed, you can tell he's still hesitant. You adjust the pressure around his member as he self-consciously ruts against your backside, hips clumsily bumping into yours as the new sensation of the stretchy material of your yoga pants against his hot, hardened flesh starts to overwhelm him.

After a few minutes of trial and error, and him accidentally slipping against you, you muster up the guts to start talking again once he’s gotten the hang of it.

“Feel- ah! Good? you're good right?” You ask a bit dizzily, not even sure if he made sense of your question. But once his cock starts dragging against you at just the right angle you're a mess of babbling praises.

“You feel- mmh, so good! That's perfect, ahh you're good, such a good boy— oh, god!”

The moment you start saying nice things and calling him pet names he’s melting above you, hips rutting faster and more desperately between your quivering thighs and his heavy panting picking up speed and grittyness. Thomas always responds strongly to praise, he thrives on feeling valued and once you start the wave of compliments it's hard to stop. Why would you want to? It makes him eager to please and makes him come faster, and you’re all for making him feel good.

Oh god, you're really close now, your walls are clenching around nothing and your thighs are twitching and stuttering around his girth uncontrollably as you approach orgasm. You need a bit more pressure, and a bit more direct stimulation to actually come but teetering on the edge is as pleasurable as it is torture. You want to slither and hand in between your legs to grind on your palm but you're absolutely boneless from the waist up. You're practically sobbing without actually crying into the sheets, you can't help but wonder how much longer Thomas is going to last with all this friction, he's always been on the sensitive side, how in the hell was he holding out for this long?

You sure hoped he wasn't trying to hold back his own release because of you, the faster he came the quicker you got to as well. Words of encouragement are streaming through muffled lips before you can stop them.

“Hah- yesss, please come, baby, I'm close, I can't- ah! It’s oh- okay! Please, come for me!” You practically wail, and Thomas whines and groans into your hair, he’s panting like a hound against your back, almost drooling under the intense waves of ecstasy buzzing through his entire nervous system. The sound of your sweet voice begging and urging him to finish sends him in a downward spiral and his dull fingernails dig crescents into your skin.

Thomas's mind flickers to a sudden thought, reminded of the significance of your own pleasure. He forced one hand away from your buckling hips and slides a thick hand beneath you and between your thighs to apply pressure to the general area of your clit through the tight-fitting pants to help you along. Your orgasm rips through you not a moment later, and your back arches under the overwhelming shots of drunken pleasure. You hips buck back into his and your thighs squeeze tightly around his slickened member repeatedly.

Thomas bellows out his pleasure and goes stiff, shoving himself against you and accidentally pushing you up the sheets a few inches. After a split second your giant man is moving again, rutting against you and groaning into the sheets and against your neck as he spills all over your inner thighs. Thomas has always been a heavy producer, and his cum drips heavily down your spandex-covered legs and into the thin sheets. Once his shuddering finally starts to calm his body relaxes, pressing you down into the suddenly overly-cozy bed sheets. You sigh dreamily and smile when Thomas mumbles something incoherent, sounding apologetic as he rolls off of you. You appreciate his cause to not crush you, but you're far from ready to be away from him.

You manage to get Thomas to scoot over so he's at least not half-way off the bed and curl up at his side as you recover just a bit longer. Your soaked yoga pants feel kind of gross after a while and you’re already overheating, so the next moment you are kicking them off and toeing them off the mattress. Your underwear is just as cum-soaked and not at all comfortable, so those go as well.

Thomas must have been getting too hot as well, because when you turn he is stripping away multiple layers as well. Either that or he’s about to roll you over and fuck you properly. You can't say you have a problem with that, on the contrary actually, you were counting on it.

You're overcome with a playful adrenaline rush and perform operation sneak attack by hopping over to his position sitting on the edge of the bed and drape yourself over his back. You're both giggling like teenagers as you smack kisses all over his ‘face’ from behind, gushing to him about how good he was and pulling him back in your arms to cuddle you. Thomas didn't require a whole lot of respite time before he could go another round, but you liked to relax a bit in between sessions when you had all this time to yourselves.

It isn't long before Thomas starts pulling you tighter against him, already starting to get hard again as your ‘conversation’ melted into gentle praise and things you’d only say to get him going. Using those bedroom-specific pet names that got him breathing heavy.

Your fingers curled around the neck of Thomas’s mask, and one of your legs swung over his hip, you hoisted yourself on top of his large mass. You started to tug at the dry, leathery material you certainly weren't in the mood for now that the kinkiest part of you has receded, and your softer, loving side starting to seep through. You wanted to look at his real face.

“Take this damn thing off.”

.   .   .

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #leatherface x reader #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #slasher #slasher x reader #thomas brown hewitt #slasher fic

[fireblaze5555]

Another quick Kastle short while I am quarantining.

------

Frank found himself beat to hell and tied to a chair, his most recent war had some unseen players that broadsided him. It was unusual for him to be caught unawares but shit happens and here he sat. His face was throbbing and he was pretty sure he had at least one busted rib but he wasn't overly concerned yet. So far, the man who claimed to be the head of this mess had just talked. Endlessly. About his 'empire' and how stupid 'the Punisher' was to have interfered.

Frank hadn't said a word since he woke up, which by his estimation was several hours ago, mostly just looking unimpressed and annoyed, sizing up the room for when he made his move. He was brought out of his contemplation when they set a laptop in front of him on a small table, the screen black. He raised an eyebrow at the man before saying, "First time I've had a complementary movie, very considerate of ya." His voice was rough with disuse and he punctuated it by spitting some blood from his mouth.

The man, Marcetti, that's what he'd said his name was, gave a low chuckle before having a henchman turn the screen on. It only took Frank a second to recognize what he was looking at and suddenly all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

Karen's apartment. He knew from the angle that the camera had to be in the bookshelf and he wracked his brain, trying to think of when they could have had a chance to plant a camera in her place. Or how they knew she was connected to him, he had been so careful with his Karen Page related indulgence.

Frank didn't say anything but the look he turned on the mob boss had the man taking an involuntary step back. Marcetti recovered quickly though, arrogance lacing his tone, "Are you surprised? Didn't think we would know that the Punisher has a soft spot for tall blonde legal assistants?"

An irrational part of Frank's brain wanted to correct him, she's a P.I., freelance investagative reporter and so much fucking more you piece of shit, but he knew that would only confirm to the man that he had struck a chord. So he ignored him, facing back to the screen and fast tracking his plan to get out of here so he could clear her apartment before she got back. He desperately hoped that she had made plans with Nelson or even Murdock and wouldn't be returning to her apartment any time soon.

His heart sank in his chest when he saw her come into view, carrying a clothes basket. Everything slowed down in that moment and details stood out in striking clarity as fear gripped him. She was wearing that tank top he liked, the one made of soft material that showed off the perfect shape of her breasts. It was shorter in the front so when she stood he could just see her belly button and a strip of taut pale skin on her abdomen. It was loose and flowy, granting him easy access to aforementioned breasts. She had on yoga pants, her favorite pair, and her hair was braided as it often was when she was cleaning the apartment. Karen settled on to the couch to start sorting laundry, he saw her haphazardly throwing her socks together before she came upon a pair of his. His heart ached as he saw her roll them the way he did on the occasion he was there to help with domestic tasks.

Frank's world sped back into focus as Marcetti clicked his tongue appreciatively, "My, my, you do have good taste Mr. Castle. She is lovely. I'm glad I ordered them to bring her here, I think she will be great fun to keep around once you are dead." Frank's whole body jerked towards the man involuntarily. The mob boss flinched trying to hide it by motioning for a lackey to land a few punches to Frank's snarling face. His eyes returned to Marchetti after every blow, unyielding.

"You put your hands on her and I will make sure you die as slowly and painfully as possible." His voice was low and full of promise.

"You aren't really in any position for threats. So just sit back and enjoy." His smile made Frank want to make the man swallow his own teeth. He was about to tell him as much when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karen tense up and turn to the direction of her front door. A second later she was on her feet with the coffee table between her and two men.

Frank's breathing was labored as he watched them slowly approach her. Dread, panic and guilt churned in his chest, he was going to have to watch someone else he loved die, once again not being able to do a goddamn thing about it. When the first blow landed on her face he let out a bellowing yell that had everyone in the room step back. Frank pulled on his restraints, fighting to get his emotions under control. He had to get out of here, now, he may still be able to get there in time.

He froze though, when he saw Karen lash out with a vicious kick to the side of one of the mens' knees, collapsing it sideways. The other grabbed her by the hair but she instantly dropped to the ground causing him to lurch forward which brought him in range for her to snap her head back into his nose. As he clutched at his bloodied face, Karen stood quickly, swaying slightly, Frank was sure that the blow to the back of her head was disorienting. In a matter of seconds she had her .380 in her hand steadily staring the man down.

Pride swelled in Frank's chest, his panic ebbing only slightly, as he watched her beautiful mouth giving the man hell. Her hands were steady and her form was perfect. If he wasn't so terrified for her safety, Frank would be incredibly turned on. He knew she was telling her assailant to get on the ground, she would shoot if she had to but she would avoid it if she could. When the man lunged for her, she squeezed the trigger, two to the chest. The man who's knee had been collapsed managed to get to his feet, taking a swipe at her while she was distracted. It was his last mistake because she turned and put two bullets in him as well.

Frank heard the men cursing around him and he gave a small laugh, despite himself. People were always underestimating his girl. On the screen, he saw Karen process for a moment, his heart giving a lurch when he saw her cover her mouth and let out a sob. But then she was moving, grabbing her bag and a jacket and heading in the direction of the door, no doubt headed to the safe house, just as they planned for situations like this.

He forced his face into a smug mask, turning from the screen to meet the eyes of his captor. The man was seething, still staring at the screen where two of his men lay dead. When Marcetti did turn his eyes back to Frank he snapped his fingers at two men to his right, they instantly stepped forward, "Go find that bitch. Do what you have to, just get her here, alive." He waved them off sharply before kicking the small table and laptop out of the way to stand in front of Frank. It was just him and two other men in the room with Frank now.

Frank shook his head slowly, a corner of his mouth tipping up smugly, "You probably should have done more research on her. I mean, it's really never good to underestimate a woman, especially not one with such good aim." He forced his voice to stay even in the hopes it would further rile Marcetti. He was half sick with worry, at the very best Karen was going to be frantic when she couldn't get a hold of him, at worst she could be attacked again. So he needed his captor to make a mistake soon.

Thankfully it only took another minute. Marcetti stepped right in front of him bending to speak right into Frank's face. Perfect. Before he could get a word out Frank headbutted him as hard as he could in the face. Frank had taken a lot of blows to the head so he only saw stars for a split second, recovering much faster than his victim. Taking a page out of Karen's book he lashed out with a powerful kick to the man's knee, collapsing it backwards. There was a flurry of movement at that point, the two remaining men hurrying to pull their boss back out of reach. It was enough time to allow him to finish slipping the zip ties around his wrist completely off.

When one of the lackeys pulled back to punch him, Frank was ready, quickly breaking his arm and taking the firearm at his waist. The man was dead before he hit the ground, the second guard had barely gotten his hand to his waist before he was also felled by a headshot. Frank rolled his shoulders, ignoring the twinge in his side, checking the magazine in the stolen gun. Four bullets left.

Marcetti had started to crawl away but Frank kicked him over onto his back, promptly putting a bullet in the remaining good knee. He let him scream for a second before Frank put another in his right shoulder and another in his left shoulder. Stepping over the prone man, Frank leaned down, grabbing him roughly by the jaw, forcing him to stop screaming.

Frank let all of the pent up rage show on his face for the first time since he saw Karen disappear from the camera feed. His voice was deadly quiet when he started to speak, "You're lucky, that she got away," he shook the man's face as his weeping got louder, "Shut up. Like I was saying, you're lucky she got away because now I don't have time to make this as painful as I wanted. You really shouldn't have messed with my girl, asshole."

Frank stood to his full height, giving Marcetti a second to start begging before putting the last bullet in his head. The beast in Frank wanted to make him suffer. He could have spent hours dragging out the man's death for bringing Karen into it but he had to make sure she was okay. She was his priority now.

Grabbing the gun off of the second man he shot he held it at the ready as he moved through the building. Thankfully it was abandoned and he only had one more person to shoot before he was clear of the building and striding as quickly as he could towards a main road. He wasn't sure where he was so the likelihood of him being anywhere near where he left his van was slim to none.

Luckily his captors had not stolen the money in his pocket so he was able to hail a cab to get him within a couple of blocks of the designated safehouse. Thank God for NYC cabbies, there wasn't a word or even a backwards glance as Frank climbed in, beat to shit and covered mostly in his own blood.

He was planning as he stepped out of the cab, where to go next if he didn't find Karen in the safehouse? Maybe she would have gone to Murdock's place. If she hadn't, maybe Murdock could help him locate her faster. His busted rib was giving him hell for the pace he was setting but he needed to know she was safe.

It seemed like an eternity but Frank finally came to a halt in front of a rusted door at the back of an apparent abandoned warehouse. He had been watching his surroundings and didn't have a tail so he punched in the code to the door, sliding in quickly. Out of precaution he had a gun ready in his hand before calling out, "Karen? It's me."

For a moment he didn't hear anything and his heart began to sink in his chest. Then he heard the subtle click of a safety being clicked into place and she was rounding the corner that served as a makeshift kitchen. He was lightheaded with the relief that flooded him, she was here, she was safe.

Before he could process more she was right in front of him, her slender hands on either side of his jaw as she looked him up and down, "Frank what happened? Are you okay?" Her hands were roaming over him, searching for injury, "I tried calling you a dozen times and you didn't pick up, I didn't know where you were. These men...they.." She let out a hiccoughing sob that had him instantly pulling her to his chest, murmuring comforting words into her hair. She recovered quickly though, wiping the tears away harshly and pulling him towards the first aid kit.

"Are you okay, you're not hurt anywhere are you?" This time he was the one running hands over her, voice rough, eyes resting on the bruise that was blossoming on her cheek.

"No, no I'm fine." She rested her hand over his on her cheek before steering him to sit down. Frank closed his eyes as she ran a cool cloth over his face, wiping away the blood. Her voice was quiet as she worked. "How did you know I was here?"

His eyes opened quickly, rage and panic suddenly burning hotly through him again, remembering watching the men attack her, remembering his own helplessness to stop it. Without thinking Frank brought his hands up to cradle her face, to reassure himself that she was here, that he wouldn't wake up to find she had been taken from him too.

As if she could sense his rising panic, which she probably could, he could never hide anything from her, Karen wrapped her hands around his wrists and gave them a reassuring squeeze. She pressed a soft kiss into his palm before she continued to slowly wipe the blood from his face. She knew he would answer when he was ready.

Frank grounded himself by watching her eyes as she worked. Every once in a while her clear blue gaze would meet his and he would see them crinkle reassuringly at the edges before she focused on her task again.

Finally, when he felt most of the remaining adrenaline drain out of him, he spoke slowly, his voice full of gravel, "This last mission, I almost had them all wiped out but I missed something and they blindsided me. I woke up and they had me tied to a chair, giving me the usual bad guy speech, ya know?" She gave an amused huff but he saw the worry creep into her visage as she cleaned out a gash she found in his scalp.

"They pulled out a computer that had a live feed to a camera into your living room."

Karen froze, meeting his eyes quickly, "You saw them attack me." It wasn't a question, she was always one step ahead of him it seemed.

Frank gave a slow nod, feeling sick as he remembered watching the men advance on her. How she almost died because of him. Again. He attempted to shutter his expression, he needed to create distance between them, he had to push her away. He knew that this would happen and yet he kept selfishly pushing himself into her life. He was going to get her killed. He-

He let out a growling curse as Karen abruptly and none too gently pressed gauze covered in alcohol to the cut in his scalp. His gaze returned to hers sharply and she was waiting for it because her expression was defiant.

"I already know everything you are thinking Frank and we've been through all of it before. You're not pushing me away, I'm not going anywhere and so help me God if you even THINK about telling me 'I'm not safe' or 'I'm not good for you Karen' I will beat you within an inch of your life. Do you understand me Castle? Yes, people came after me. Yes, they did it to get to you. But they didn't get me, I got them."

Her voice was strong but he felt the small tremor in her fingers as she began applying the butterfly sutures to his head. Gently, he grabbed her hand, pulling it down to press a lingering kiss to her knuckles before he replied, "I know you can handle yourself, I've seen you do it more than once and I was damn proud of what you did today. But Karen," he leaned down to catch her eye again when she looked away, "You shouldn't have to. You're good. I'm tainting your life, forcing you to make decisions you shouldn't have to make."

She stared at him for a moment before slowly shaking her head, like she thought he was incredibly dense, before she stepped in to stand between his knees. Her hands came to rest on either side of his strong jaw as she tilted his head up to look at her. Slowly she lowered her head and gave him a soft lingering kiss, one that made his chest swell and his arms ache to wrap around her. A kiss that made him realize just how foolish it was of him to think he could walk away now, after she was so deeply a part of him.

After another slow press of her lips, this time to his forehead she spoke softly but with all the authority of the goddess she was, her words full of steel, "I would make that decision over and over again if it meant I got to keep you in my life. We're a unit now Frank. We deal with things together. I don't always agree with the wars you wage but I will always be there once you are done fighting them. I'm not going anywhere. I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it."

Frank stared up at her, both wanting to take her to the bed in the back and show her with his hands and mouth how much he worships her and wanting to shake her until she sees sense and runs in the opposite direction as him. Though the latter would tear him to pieces.

He settled for a happy medium, once he was patched up, he had Micro set up focused surveillance on this safehouse and then called in a favor to have the two bodies removed from Karen's apartment as discreetly as possible before settling them both into bed and tucking her securely against his chest. She was out almost instantly, her fingers securely wrapped around his as she slept.

Frank was a monster, he killed people, deserving people, but it was killing nonetheless. He constantly made Karen worry and he most certainly didn't deserve her love. But as he watched her sleeping in his arms, her blatant trust and care for him evident in the way she gripped his hand, he realized he was also a man. A man that needed Karen Page as much as the Punisher needed his war. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, drifting off as well. Maybe one day he will be strong enough to push Karen Page out of his life for her own protection...but he doubted it.

#kastle #frank castle x karen page #frank castle #karen page #bamf karen page #quarantine writing #oneshot #some violence

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 20/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver start working their new lead, and relationship status, with some surprising results.

Notes: I fully outlined the whole rest of this story yesterday. I'm so excited. Enjoy this chapter's little bit of sexy times.

Warnings: Miscarriage reference and discussion in some chapters. Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19]

Belle pushed the office door open with her hip and twisted as she came through, a sizable file box in her hands.

Weaver glanced up at her and then returned his eyes to the page in front of him which was a long list of former addresses for both Branson brothers. He was comparing them to the lists they had from the victims, seeking some kind of overlap that perhaps he had missed before, when he was startled by the sharp thud of Belle dropping the box on the table in front of him.

He blinked and then gave her an annoyed look. “And to what do I owe this interruption.”

“Birth records from 1999.”

“I thought they’d all been converted to digital?” He set down the page he’d been reviewing and frowned. “And that has what to do with what now?”

Belle smiled and pulled the lid off the box, flipping through the first few folders to see how they were organized. “About 90% of them had been scanned in and archived, when the budget for summer interns ran out, and well...”

Weaver let out a small ‘ah’ and sighed. Typical that the city would make it so far only to abandon the project because of money and never return to it. He took the first set of folders from Belle as she lifted them out and set them on his lap, idly thumbing them.

“So this is our next project...why?”

Her smile shifted to a wide grin and she dropped down on the sofa next to him. Their legs were pressed together, and braced her hand on his thigh as she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Since they had reconfirmed their feelings for each other, it was almost as if the last couple of years hadn’t happened. All the tension and awkwardness melted away and the old ease they’d had with each other returned in full in the span of a few days.

“I was looking over Molly’s file, since we confirmed that the hair they found on Eloise’s...bag...was hers, and I noticed the issue date on her birth certificate.”

She slid the photocopy from the county clerk’s office out of a folder and pointed to the date in the upper right corner. Weaver took the paper from her and sat back, as she turned and sat sideways on the sofa, watching him. Molly’s birthday was mid-January 1997, but the issued date on the birth certificate was from April of 1999.

“It’s two years off,” he said, setting paper down on the table. “So...why would that be? Did they have to amend it or something?”

Belle shook her head. “I thought that too, like maybe Mrs. Macreedy wasn’t Mrs. Macreedy when she had Molly, and there wasn’t a father listed initially, but they were married in 1992.”

“Somebody at the clerk’s office make a typo that had to be corrected later?” He’d seen that more than once from a misspelling on a form, bad handwriting, or a misunderstanding on which version of a name was being used.

Again, Belle’s head turned back and forth slowly as her lips started to curve. “Nope. It was actually issued in 1999.”

Weaver started to smile as well. She was teasing him with whatever clue she’d already figured out, and being adorable while she was at it. Her teeth caught on her lip, and he barely held himself back from kissing her.

“Am I supposed to keep guessing,” he asked, “or are you going to relieve my suspense?”

“Molly Macreedy was adopted.”

His eyes went wide at her words, and he sat forward, his frown returning. “What? Her parents never once mentioned that.”

“Well, it’s not like they would have thought it was relevant to our investigation,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe they wanted to keep it a secret, or maybe Molly didn’t even know.”

Blowing out a breath, he shook his head. “That’s a hell of a thing not to tell your child.”

“As you would know.”

He gave a nod to her offhand comment, remembering the entire debacle with his ex-wife and the boy he’d been led to believe was his son. It was a long time ago now, and his relationship with Neal had weathered the turmoil, coming out all the stronger for it in spite of their lack of blood relation. Even now he wished he could forget the sting of all the lies Milah had told.

Belle’s hand on his shoulder brought him back, and he turned to her, giving her a half smile. “Do we have the adoption records?”

She sighed and her face fell. “No, unfortunately. There are no adoption records in this state under the name Macreedy.”

His lips pursed briefly as he thought. “So it must have happened in another state then.”

“That’s one thought, yes,” she admitted.

“I have other thoughts, if you’re interested.” His gaze drifted down to the deep V made by her blouse and back up to meet her eyes. Then he waggled his eyebrows at her exaggeratedly

“Save it for later,” she said softly, leaning to press her lips against his. When she pulled back, she was all business. “I thought we’d confirm that by looking at the records from the same birthdate as Molly’s and work from there. If we can get enough specifics and show enough possible connections between her adoption and the case, we can reach out to other states and ask for their records.”

He sighed heavily. “Just what I love. More paperwork.”

Weaver groaned and his dropped back against the top of the sofa, his eyes closing as Belle’s soft lips dragged up the length of his cock one last time.

She pulled her mouth free with a wet pop and held his shaft in her hand as she pressed a kiss to the head. A crooked grin spread over her face, and he muttered a curse when she pushed up and climbed onto the sofa to straddle him. She closed the distance between them, and he met her halfway, letting out a soft, pleased sigh as their lips met. His arm went around her waist, pulling their bodies together as his free hand tangled in her hair.

They’d brought home work, as had become the norm, and started by dividing up the adoption records she’d requested from neighboring states. The pile from California alone would take them days to get through, but the revelation of Molly Macreedy’s parentage and the possibility of a connection between her and Eloise Gardner had given them enough motivation to carry them through the first few days. Belle had changed into more comfortable clothes and set herself on the floor in fron the sofa, her laptop on the coffee table and her notepad in her lap, while he stretched out behind her.

After a while, his eyes were burning from deciphering terrible handwriting and bad photocopies, and he let his left hand wander over her shoulder, giving it a light rub before slipping under the strap of her camisole. She offered no resistance when he went lower to cup her breast, and after a few minutes, turned the tables on him by unzipping his jeans and taking his rapidly hardening cock in her perfect mouth.

Weaver felt warm everywhere and he smiled as she pulled back, breaking the kiss. She didn’t go far, nuzzling against his cheek, her eyes, though half lidded and deep, like the dark blue gray color of the sky before a storm. Her fingers stroked through his hair as she pressed kisses to his cheek and jaw.

“Love you,” she said against his neck, and he gave her a firm squeeze with his arms.

“Your turn,” was his reply as his hands moved down over her backside, taking her yoga pants with them.

Belle sat back as he tugged the stretch fabric down her thighs, and pulled down the front of her top to bare her breasts to his mouth. He brushed the end of his nose over a nipple making her body jerk in response, her back arching and her hips rutting against him. His head dipped to take her nipple in his mouth, and she let out a high keening sound, her eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a groan of his own, muffled against her skin.

He’d switched between her breasts twice before he moved on, enjoying the way she begged with every gasp and shifted her hips impatiently. His thumb over her first, wanting to test her reaction, and he smiled, letting go of her nipple with a final nip of his teeth as she whimpered. Even that light touch had her toes curling into the sofa, her hips jerking towards his hand. Her clit was swollen and she was slick in every place, and he would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t get a thrill from feeling how much she wanted him, even after all these years and everything that had happened between them.

“Up,” he ordered, pulling his hand away to take hold of her pants.

She stumbled to her feet and let him pull them the rest of the way down before she stepped out of them. With her standing and him sitting, her pussy was at the perfect height, and he couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward and licked at her, dragging his tongue over her clit. She let out an utterly obscene sound, and he followed it by sliding a single finger inside her, pushing deep until her legs wobbled and she had to lean forward, bracing her hands on his shoulders.

Weaver leaned back and pulled her down across his lap again, his hand remaining between her legs all the way. One finger quickly became two, and then three as she moved in sync with him, panting and keening her pleasure. He wanted to be inside her properly, but that would have to wait until they went to bed later. He’d already had the privilege of watching her suck him dry, and right now he wanted to see her fall apart more than anything.

“Ian - fuck...”

Belle’s chest heaved and her hand slid in his hair, pulling hard as he pressed his thumb to her clit, letting it rub alongside the tender nub as his fingers thrust in and out of her slickness. Short nails scraped at his neck, pulling a low groan from his throat as her pussy spasmed and her whole body shuddered. His name fell from her lips over and over, but he didn’t stop stroking until she whined at the overstimulation and slumped against him. He pulled his hand free and wiped it on his thigh before he brought both arms up to hold her close as her breathing settled.

She hummed happily and turned her face into his warm neck, pressing a kiss to the spot where his pulse throbbed. “We’re not getting much work done.”

He laughed softly as she pulled back, and lifted the front of her camisole, dragging it teasingly over her still hard nipples. She bit her lip and made a small, gasping sound as the stretchy material grazed her chest, her eyes darkening as she looked down at him.

“Need another?” he asked, his voice low and his lips curving crookedly as he smoothed his hands down her sides.

She bent her head and kissed him firmly. “Later,” she said as her mouth moved to his ear, “when I’m kneeling on the bench in the bedroom and you’re fucking me hard from behind.”

Weaver swallowed hard and moaned, already feeling the return of that hazy warmth of arousal even as she climbed to her feet and redressed. He exhaled and let the feeling drift away, refocusing his mind on what they’d been working on before they’d been distracted by more pleasurable pursuits.

“I was thinking,” he said, “that we could save ourselves some work and just ask the Macreedys what they know.”

Belle tugged the cuff of her pants down where it had ridden high on her ankle, and frowned. “They pretty much told us in no uncertain terms they never wanted to see Seattle PD or anyone from the DA’s office again, so...?”

He shrugged as he stood and zipped his fly. “Yeah, but that was when their daughter’s death was still fresh, and we kept showing up at their door with a million questions and no bloody leads. Now we have two killers behind bars.”

She sighed and ran the back of her thumbnail over her bottom lip. Her eyes ran over the stacks of papers sitting around the space, and landed on her laptop screen. She’d been working her way through searches of adoption records by county in the state of Oregon, trying to correlate dates to the date of what they assumed was Molly’s adoption.

“Yeah,” she agreed, staring down at the blinking cursor as it flashed in an empty date field. “Maybe, but...I don’t want to be the one to make that phone call.”

Weaver stepped up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and drawing her back against him as his fingers gently kneaded her tense muscles. “I’ll do it.” She sighed again and looked back at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she groaned as his thumb pressed at the side of her neck. “You’re a mess, sweetheart.”

Belle let out a snorting laugh. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t had a spa day in ages.”

“Or a day off?”

There was another sigh as her head dropped forward, providing his hands with more access to the back of her neck and the tops of her shoulders. “That hasn’t been a mandatory holiday during which I probably brought work home anyway? No.”

He let his hands run down over her shoulders and then wrap around her from behind. “When this is over, we should -” he whispered, almost afraid to say it and risk her pushing him away again, “we should go somewhere.”

Belle swallowed and closed her eyes as he squeezed her against his chest. The thought of a vacation with Ian, even for a few days, gave her a strange feeling. They’d admitted their feelings, temporarily reconciled, and had come back to the apartment to live together in every way possible, but they hadn’t talked about what any of this meant.

“Yeah?”

“If you want,” he replied softly, bringing his hands up to hold hers where they crossed over her abdomen.

She started to smile as their fingers intertwined. “Where?”

Weaver’s nose pressed into her hair as he breathed her in, content for the moment that she hadn’t rejected the idea outright. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Belle hung up the phone, after thanking the Macreedys for a third time, and sagged in her chair.

It had taken a couple of days to get a response from their attorney, but they’d agreed to a conference call which had gone much better than she and Weaver had expected. Evelyn Macreedy seemed almost relieved that they knew the truth about the adoption, though she’d been quite shocked to hear about the possible link between Molly and another potential victim. The husband, David, however, was still reluctant to talk to them and remained quiet for most of the call until the very end when he asked about the Branson brothers. Weaver assured him that both suspects were staying in jail through their trial, and that seemed to placate him for the most part.

The Macreedys explained that Molly’s biological mother had given birth to her in a Nevada prison, where she was serving time for theft, fraud, and a host of other non-violent offenses. Molly was first put into foster care, with the intention that at some point she might be returned to her mother, but unfortunately, after her biological mother was released on parole, the woman left the state and was never heard from again. The Macreedys were living in Henderson at the time, a city just south of Las Vegas, where David worked in project management for a building contractor. They’d moved there from Phoenix when housing was booming in the area in the 80s and 90s.

They’d struggled for several years to have a baby, and then turned to adoption through an attorney friend of David’s. They adopted Molly from foster care when she was two years old, but shortly after David’s career took them to Seattle. They filed the appropriate paperwork to seal the adoption records, and decided not to tell Molly. Evelyn admitted she was terrified that Molly would want to find her biological mother, and that they would lose her too. By the end of their story Belle was near tears, her left hand clinging to Weaver’s under the table.

Something had been nagging at Weaver’s brain from the second Evelyn had mentioned that they lived in Nevada, and as soon as the call came to an end, he was digging through the case file on Nick Branson. There was so much material involved in the case it was hard to keep it all in his head, and it annoyed him that so many of the pieces were scattered across storage boxes, file cabinets, and folders.

Belle ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “I feel so bad for them. They went through so much to get their daughter, and just when her life is getting going, just went she’s about to be a full fledged adult with the whole rest of her life in front of her, she’s...gone. Taken from them just like they feared.”

Weaver frowned and looked over at Belle. “Are you okay?”

She sniffed and pushed to her feet. “Yeah, it just sucks.”

“Aye, it does,” he replied, as he returned to his search.

Belle came over to stand next to him, peering into the case box. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He pulled out a folder, his brow furrowed, and flipped it open. His eyes scanned the first page, and as he came to the bottom, his eyes went wide. “Shit.”

“What?”

“This,” he said, handing Belle the relevant sheet. He set the rest of the folder aside and pointed to a line near the bottom. “It’s a list of Nick Branson’s previous addresses.”

The dates on the entry aligned with Molly's adoption, and Belle felt like she’d been punched in the chest as she read the line three times to make sure she what she was seeing was real.

Nicholas Branson 775 Cottage Grove Rd Apt 4B Las Vegas, NV 89119

She blinked and looked up at Weaver, her mouth hanging open. “Shit.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #killing time #fic #my woven beauty fic #lemon fic

[kisskissbanggang]

Nimble

[<10min. read, ~1.9K words -- Yogi!Ten x Neutral Reader -- Fluff, Smut -- Soft Dom/Sub, Self-Bondage, Orgasm Control, Anal Play, Overstimulation]

[Admiring Sub!Ten for Anons💕]

He was beautiful. It was really the only thing that came to mind when you went to yoga on the first day and saw Ten for the first time. How had you never noticed him on campus before? However, you quickly remembered the rule you set yourself for the year: no dating. Not after the last dumpster fire. Do a little soul searching. Surely there would be more guys like Ten around when you found yourself again. Then again, watching Ten help the instructor demonstrate poses you'd be learning by the end of the week made you feel a little lightheaded. You just vowed to walk it off.

That is, until you saw Ten at your studio art class later that day. You weren't even aware of him at first until he popped over your shoulder. "Hi!" He was stage whispering, not wanting to disturb the quiet room waiting for the studio supervisor and art professor. "You're in my yoga class, yeah? I don't know anyone here so I'm just going to sit by you." You could only nod dumbly as he took a seat next to you in the open studio.

So you became school friends. Not all at once, since you were still terrified of how pretty he was, but it did happen. Specifically, after you just so happened to watch him playfully compare scorpion poses with a cheerleader before yoga one day. Later, in the studio space, he'd crept up behind you as you were working on a portrait of your roommate's cat. "That's a grumpy cat," Ten whispered behind you, spooking you. You reflexively jerked your brush back, a practiced move after too many errant brush strokes over the years, and accidentally elbowed him square in the sternum. Ten yelped in surprise, stumbling back. Quickly, you jumped down to check on him. Ten was... Laughing. He was laughing hysterically. And you became school friends after that, Ten coming to help you with your poses during yoga and being excited when you shared your art with each other during your studio time.

Before too long, you began hanging out outside of class, too, Ten escorting you to the student cafe regularly and taking turns buying drinks. You sat, people watching, sometimes sketching but usually just talking. On this particular day, he leaned over to watch over your shoulder.

"How is that pose anatomically possible?" Ten smirked as he watched. It was a figure study, just a feminine figure whimsically posed and looking pensively out a window. Thankfully, yoga inspired more than just reflection in you. It also helped motivate you artistically.

"It's absolutely possible," you fired back, "... If not a little finessed."

"Okay, wait, let me see," Ten theatrically moved his chair in front of you, hogging your attention as he tried to shuffle into the position you'd drawn. He shifted to sit sideways in the chair, dramatically and exaggeratedly failing to do your pose before settling to just work a leg behind his head with the other struggling to keep his balance on the chair -- a wobbly eka pada sirsasana of sorts. "Yeah. There. I got it."

"Very funny."

"This is easier, even. Look, I can still comfortably drink my coffee."

It was disgusting how dirty looking at Ten made you feel sometimes, but he really was beautiful. Even doing the most mundane things, but especially working on art or practicing yoga. Just the way Ten looked at you made your heart flutter, though you still couldn't figure out what all those looks meant.

"Look," you sighed, focusing on your work again, "the next model session for the art department isn't until next week, but this is itching at me. I hate working off pictures and statues, so I'm working with what I can."

"Are you committed to drawing a feminine figure right now?"

"No, why?"

"I'll pose. I used to do it for scratch cash so it'll be easy."

"Are you sure?"

"Why not? That's what friends are for."

Ten told you you'd have to come to his room after some plans, so you didn't cross campus to his dorm until later that night. In the short time since you'd become friends, you hadn't seen his luxuriously single room with no roommates or grumpy cats. You knocked on the door. No answer. Without really knowing what compelled you to, you tried the knob. And, barring a split second of resistance, it opened.

You gasped, dropping your sketchpad in the doorway.

Ten lay sprawled out on the floor, draped over a footstool and hogtied to a timer that kept his wrists bound to a spreader bar at his raised ankles. It took you an extra second to register that he was naked, fully exposing a cock ring squeezing his erection and a vibrator pulsing firmly in his ass.

You clapped your hands over your eyes as you stepped into the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

"Ten, what the fuck?!" Only a muffled yell replied. You groaned as you peeked through your fingers, kneeling next to Ten's trembling body as you unbuckled the ball gag in his mouth. A thick string of saliva that had built up dripped from his lips and the gag onto the floor and he pulled away, gasping as he relaxed his jaw.

"Holy shit," Ten panted, "my timer failed. This is the first time ever. You were supposed to catch me cleaning up."

"What?!"

"I don't know, like a sexy 'I see how you look at me thing' and, I don't know, just help me!"

"Keys, Ten, where are the keys?"

"No clue. Haven't needed them in so long."

"You just... Do this? Regularly?" You had to admit, it looked good on him.

Ten nodded, a blush creeping through his flushed cheeks. "At least turn off the vibrator, please. I've been edging for ten minutes."

"Why can't you..." You wanted to say it. You ached to say it. Though you didn't want to admit it, you'd imagined Ten doing it countless times even before today.

"I considered it before you came in, but, you know."

"Want me to leave?"

"Just turn the vibrator off, please, I'm begging you." The words made your chest hurt. You were lightheaded again. You reached for the vibrator and the controls on its base, but the moment you touched it Ten jerked in pleasure. "Come on, come on," he pleased, "hurry and turn it off." You tried to get a handle on the vibrator again, but each time you touched him Ten shuddered under you. Anymore of this and you'd be dying as much as he was. Without even realizing, your hand drifted down between your legs.

"Oh my god, stop moving," you admonished, trying to do the right thing. You placed a firm hand on his lower back, making Ten moan deep under you, his hips rolling in response. You both froze in the moment, both debating on how to proceed.

"Please," Ten breathed. "Please" what? More? Stop? It was hard to read him.

"Please what?" Oh my god you'd said it out loud.

"Again..." Ten pleaded, pushing back against your hand that still held the vibrator in place. That was all you needed.

"But if I do that you'll cum," you playfully complained while slowly pulling the vibrator out. Ten attempted to thrust back against it but was stopped by your hand on his ass. "Or is that what you're trying to do now?"

"I want to cum," Ten moaned, "please help me cum. Fuck me and help me cum." He was a babbling mess by now. His straining cock leaked on the floor and you scooped some of his precum up and used it to wrap your hand around him. Ten's fists tightened behind his back, automatically thrusting into your hands as you pumped the vibrator back into him. "Yes, yes, yes," he moaned, desperate when you suddenly stopped. "No! No no no, please don't stop." You took a breather, cracking your knuckles and moving to sit on the floor in front of him. He looked deep into your eyes, tears welling up and biting his lip.

"Cute," you cooed. "You're so pretty. I bet you're gorgeous when you cum. If you cum. Do you want me to kiss you?" He nodded his head hard in anticipation. You kissed his forehead before gently kissing his lips. He moaned, shuddering against your mouth as you kissed and licked at him. You moved to the side of him, letting him suck on your fingers as you continued to edge him. You varied the speed and intensity of the vibrator, as well as the pace at which you fucked him. Finally, you swiveled back behind him. He gasped and whined as you pulled out the vibrator entirely. His cute, aching hole gaped and you scooped up more of Ten's precum from his tip to spread around his rim. He cried out at the feel of your fingers. He practically screamed when he felt your tongue run over his entrance next. Ten pushed desperately back against your starving tongue, nearly crying when you occasionally pulled away to let him come back down.

He'd had enough. Ten's breathing was ragged and he sounded like he was nearly in pain by now. You replaced your tongue with your fingers, immediately starting with two since he'd already stretched himself open so well. He thrashed and bucked, trying to get more of you faster so he could cum. "Don't stop, don't stop," Ten moaned loudly, nearly screaming when his cock finally erupted. You quickly dipped your hand down between his legs, catching as much as you could in your palm. Ten gasped for air after his orgasm washed over him, suddenly tensing when he felt the tip of the vibrator slip into him, crying out again when you turned it onto its highest setting. His cock leaked more cum he didn't even know he had as you slid back in front of him.

"Are you okay?" You asked. Ten nodded tersely as he grunted through the overstimulation. "Is it possible for you to cum again?" He eyed you suspiciously, biting his lip as he nodded again, even more suspicious when you smiled. "Good. Lick my hand clean before I see if you're right and we do this all over again." The look in Ten's eyes suggested furious admiration as well as fierce lust as he lunged forward for your hand. He hungrily lapped at your palm, whining from the severe pleasure coursing through him. Just to be safe, he sucked your fingers dry for good measure before you finally turned off the vibrator and gently slid it out of him.

You were just about to inspect Ten's cuffs again and help calm him down when he wriggled under you, rotating his wrist to click open the latch holding the cuffs to the spreader bar. "Here, let me," he said softly and pulled his arms away, twisting and manipulating his limbs in their sockets until he worked his hands back in front himself and carefully knelt back up. Double-jointed. Of course. "I guess I panicked and forgot I could do that." His shit-eating grin spoke volumes as he collapsed into you and flicked open the safety locks. "Was that a good pose?" Ten laughed breathlessly, yelping when you playfully grabbed his recovering dick.

#nct smut #nct imagines #nct fanfic #happytenday #ten #wayv ten #nct ten #ten chittaphon #wayv smut #wayv imagines #wayv fanfic

[donteattheappleshook]

The Gardener

Based on a prompt I can no longer find that was something like "You run by my house every morning and I make sure I'm outside every morning to see you".

This is a little plot bunny that I couldn't get out of my head. It was supposed to be a little ficlet but somehow turned into an 11 page monster. Pure fluffyness. Hope you enjoy!

Emma focused on the rhythmic tapping of her feet against the pavement as they fell into synch with the beat of the song blaring in her headphones. The sun wasn’t yet up, the sky the quiet, pale grey of a city not yet awake. She loved running at this time, before the cars and the pedestrians littered the streets, when it was just her and her music and the comforting ache of her muscles and the adrenaline in her veins as she kept a steady pace.

She’d taken a new route today, weary of following her usual run through the park after she’d noticed Walsh had started to frequent her favorite path. She’d seen him, dressed like he was out for a run - though Emma knew he never did anything remotely physical if he could help it - standing by a bench, looking desperately like he was waiting for someone to show up. Nope, Emma thought. She was not dealing with that.

She’d found her way into a small cul-de-sac she didn’t recognize. The streets all had annoyingly charming names like “Pleasant Avenue” and “Sunrise Crescent”. She didn’t worry too much about getting lost, sure that she could always just rely on google maps should she lose her way.

As kitchy as the street names were, Emma found herself quite enjoying this new road she’d found herself on. While the park was familiar and comforting, it ran the risk of encountering other runners. Mostly they kept to themselves, offering a friendly nod or wave but there was always the chance of meeting a Chatty Cathy who was desperate for a running buddy or some musclehead in a muscle shirt who saw this as an opportunity to flirt with anything in yoga pants. But here, she was completely alone. She made her way past the houses, most of them stand-alone older, victorian style buildings painted in bright colours and she caught herself smiling peacefully. It was like a little slice of the past in a big city. It was almost… charming.

“Shit!” Emma cursed as she felt the sharp pinch on the sole of her foot. Grudgingly, she slowed and eventually stopped her steady pace, grumbling as she crouched down and reached for the laces of her shoes so she could fish out the offending rock that must have found its way inside.

As she fumbled with the too-tight knot, she was surprised by the appearance of a truck as it rolled along beside her and pulled into the drive of the house across the street from where she knelt. She hadn’t heard it approaching over her music and almost rolled her eyes as her roommate’s voice rang in her ears, warning her not to listen to her music so loud. ‘You’ll get hit by a bus one of these days!’ Mary Margaret was fond of warning her.

She paused, having just wormed her shoe off her foot as she noticed the man getting out of the cab of the truck. He didn’t seem to have noticed her - not surprising as she was crouched on the curb across the street - but she noticed him. Damn did she notice him. She watched as the dark haired man made his way around the front of the truck before coming to the bed to untie a tarp that had been laid across it. He was handsome, Emma thought, not that she was looking. His hair was dark and so were his brows but he had a ginger scruff lining his cheeks and jaw. She watched as the muscles in his shoulders flexed under his t-shirt as he pulled the tarp back out of the way.

He looked over then, suddenly seeming to notice her and Emma panicked, immediately turning back to her shoe, shaking the rock out and slipping it back on to her foot. He’d been to far away for her to see the actual colour, but his eyes had been insanely bright - bright enough to be noticable across a street.

She looked back, curious - only to know what was in the back of the truck she convinced herself. As she peeked up at him, she saw that he had taken out a wooden crate with flowers inside. She was surprised. She didn’t know what she’d expected the handsome stranger to take out of his pickup truck at 5 in the morning but it definitely wasn’t flowers.

She kept watching, she couldn’t seem to stop, as he rested the crate on the metal frame of the truck before suddenly his eyes flickered back to hers. He held her gaze for a second, less in an intentional way and more in a deer-in-the-headlights kind of way, his cheeks going bright red in a way that was both boyish and incredibly attractive. Emma felt her own cheeks flame as she forced herself once again to focus on her task and finished lacing her shoe.

She waited, wondering if she should look again, maybe offer a smile or say hello. He was attractive and it had been a while since Emma had flirted with someone. Not since Walsh and boy was he a mistake. She’d been nothing but clear about her intentions but he had taken the flirting and the drinks and the casual sex as a sign of a serious relationship and that was the last thing Emma wanted and now she was left to deal with a quasi-stalker. But this was different. Meeting an attractive man carrying flowers while she was out for a run wasn’t the same as meeting someone at a bar and going back to his place. No this, this had all the makings of a meet-cute and Emma was not looking for some silly romantic encounter. But still, she found herself glancing up.

The man had lifted the box fully out of the truck now and she imagined he’d be heading into the house with it. She allowed herself to let her eyes rake over the lean lines of his profile. He paused then. Almost like he’d felt her watching him and she saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, like he was worried she would notice. When he saw her looking back, he straightened, standing a little taller. He turned to face her and offered her a small smile before raising his hand to offer her a little wave.... And dropping the contents of his flower box onto the pavement at his feet.

He scrambled, fumbling to catch the box as it tilted sideways and Emma noticed for the first time that there was a prosthetic that ended in an intricate, metal hook where his left hand should be. She watched as he knelt down, scooping the soil back into the box, straightening the flowers all the while casting her frantic, horribly embarrassed, wide-eyed looks. Emma caught herself smiling as she watched the scene take place. She wasn’t laughing at him, not at his embarrassment, but rather - there was something… utterly charming about the whole exchange. And, not for the first time that day, Emma thought that she didn’t mid charming quite so much.

The man seemed to understand her amusement and his expression changed from one of humiliation and panic to friendly commiseration. She couldn’t hear it, but she saw him huff out a small laugh as he shrugged his shoulders at her. “What can you do?” he seemed to say. Emma smiled and for a second, she debated going over to help him clean up the mess but she thought better of it. Charming was never a good idea, as attractive as the prospect may be. Instead, she double checked the knot on her laces, stood up, and cast him a final glance, lips still curled in a half-smile, before she took off down the road again.

***

Liar. Liar. Liar. Emma thought as she ran down the newly familiar streets the next morning. She was actively trying to convince herself that she had chosen to follow the same path as the day before because she was worried Walsh would still be looking for her in the park; but, as her heartrate picked up when she rounded the corner of Pleasant and Sunrise, she knew it had little to do with the punishing pace she’d set.

He probably won’t even be there. She reprimanded herself. What were the chances that he’d be outside his house again at 5am? Surely he’d just been coming back from picking something up yesterday. He’d probably be inside asleep like most people were at this time.

Her stomach started to knot and flutter though as his truck came into view, parked in the driveway where it had been 24 hours prior. Stop it. She told her stupid heart and her stupid stomach and her stupid brain as it started conjuring up images of his bashful smile and reddened cheeks. She tried to focus, shaking her head to try pay attention to her music and her feet against the pavement. Don’t you look. She told herself. She didn’t listen.

There was no-one near the truck. The tarp was once again pulled tight over the bed and Emma’s heart sank just a little. She felt stupid. Getting all excited and eager to see a man she’d never even spoken to. What did she think was going to happen? She was chiding herself, reminding herself why she stayed away from men that made her insides go topsy turvy when suddenly - there he was, kneeling in the little garden by the front steps of the blue victorian house. She couldn’t quite tell what he was doing but he seemed to be using his hook to steady a flower as he worked at it with his right hand. She wondered briefly at how dexterous the fingers on that hand must be as he delicately handled the flower.

He must have heard her approaching because he looked up suddenly, his expression morphing into something that was both surprised and happy as he recognized her. He offered her a friendly smile and a nod, not looking away but also not making any move to stop her and force her into polite conversation and she found herself surprisingly appreciative of the gesture - or lack thereof. Despite her best efforts, Emma found herself offering him a smile in return, her hand coming up in a semblance of a wave. It was just a flexing of her fingers as she ran past but the shy, pleased smile that split his face had her insides buzzing pleasantly warm.

For the next five days, Emma found herself  running by the little blue house at exactly 5am. And every day, there he was, tending to his little garden with a gentle precision. She’d come to expect their daily exchange. It was never more than a simple wave or a nod but it was always offered with a smile that had her breath caching in her throat and Emma realised she’d not only come to expect their exchanges but had started looking forward to them.

She’d started running on the other side of the street two days ago.

Without fail, she found her steps growing faster and a smile pulling at her lips as they always did as she approached the little garden in the early morning hours. She was excited to see him, wondering what he might be doing today. Though she only caught glimpses, she liked watching him tend to the plants. He did it with a kind of patient intensity that showed pride in his work. And the muscles in his arms flexing as he dug trenches or heaved sacs of soil were just another aspect of that work.

It was hot today. Even without the sun, Emma could feel sweat beading on her forehead and chest. She’d hesitated over her decision to run in only her sports bra. She wasn’t usually one to run while so exposed but damn it it was too hot for anything else. And maybe maybe she’d imagined the way that the man in the garden’s cheeks might burn bright red when he saw her. Emma knew she looked good. She worked hard to stay in shape and if she wanted to use her wiles to her advantage to make a handsome gardener blush, well, that was her prerogative.

As she approached the house, Emma noticed him immediately, smiling as his shape came into focus the closer she got. He was standing in the middle of the flower beds - which had grown exponentially in the last week - a hose held firmly in his hand, folded so as to stop the flow of water as he made his way across to a patch of daisies.

She saw the stain on the front of his blue shirt, made dark by the sweat of his chest and realised she wasn’t the only one suffering from the heat wave. She briefly thought of asking him to spray her with the hose, desperate for the cool down but thought better of it. She was already in a bra - she didn’t need to be asking a strange man to hose her down. She had some dignity left. That didn’t stop her from imagining how he would look with his shirt soaking wet from the spray of the hose. Emma felt her temperature rise again and knew it had nothing to do with the weather this time.

He must not have heard her approaching, as engrossed in his task as he was. He stood frowning at the flowers, clearly trying to solve some sort of problem when he suddenly looked up, noticing her as she reached the edge of the lawn. Emma felt a little thrill go through her as his eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in a little ‘o’. She didn’t even think he realised what he was doing as his eyes raked slowly up her body.

Emma was doing everything in her power to not smirk or blush - she wasn’t sure which urge was stronger - when suddenly, the gardener lost his grip on his hose. Emma shrieked as the pent up pressure caused the water to spray everywhere, the green tube flying back and forth like a charmed snake.

She jumped back, not paying attention, and stumbled. She heard the pop in her ankle before she felt it but the searing pain didn’t take long to make itself known, burning it’s way up her foot as it rolled awkwardly under her. She landed on the pavement with a sharp cry, clutching her injured ankle and gritting her teeth against the tears in her eyes.

The man leaped into action as soon as she hit the ground, having stood stock still, eyes wide with shock as the hose had leaped free of his hand. He rushed to the side of the house, turning off the faucet before running quickly to her side. He crouched down, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, reaching down to touch her ankle but then seeming to think better of it and pulling his hand back. The one on her shoulder stayed where it was and Emma was surprised to find - despite the searing pain she was in - that the weight of it was comforting rather than intrusive like she’d have expected a stranger touching her to be.

He was closer to her than he’d ever been and Emma found herself a bit dazed by that fact. Blue. His eyes were blue. Forget-me-not blue she thought and almost snorted at how perfectly fitting it was for a man who spent so much time working with flowers to have eyes the colour of forget-me-nots.

He was even more handsome up close. The scruff on his cheeks wasn’t just ginger but a mix of browns and reds and silver that made the angle of his jaw look sharp and pronounced. And his eyes - holy shit his eyes - his eyes were rimmed by gorgeous dark lashes, wet now with the spray of the hose. She noticed then that his shirt had gotten equally as soaked and now clung to the muscles of his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. She swallowed, the heat of his hand on her shoulder now burning hotter than the fire in her ankle.

“Are you alright?” he asked again and Emma blinked.

“You’re British,” was all she could think to say. Jesus, woman. Get it together. She thought as his brow turned down in a concerned frown.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked, eyes flashing briefly to the back of her skull before returning to her face with an intensity Emma could definitely not handle.

She cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she said her voice not quite as strong as she’d hoped. She made to get up and the man’s hand was suddenly at her elbow, helping her to stand. Emma blinked in appreciation at the subtle, kind gesture.

“I’m so sorry,” he was saying as she stood but he was cut off by her cry of pain as she put her right ankle down, her foot failing to support her. She’d have hit the pavement again were it not for his arms coming around her and holding her steady. His prosthesis was solid against her waist, his hand having caught one of hers as he lowered her slowly down on the curve.

“Easy, lass,” he said as he settled her down on the soft grass of his front lawn. He moved around her to crouch down where her injured leg was stretched out in front of her. “May I?” he asked, indicating her ankle. Emma nodded, unsure what else to say. He examined her ankle with the mastery of someone who knew what he was doing and she wondered briefly if he was some kind of doctor or if he’d just been around a lot of injuries. He looked at her before gingerly poking a spot on the side of her ankle and Emma hissed.

“Ow! Son of a bitch what the hell was that for!?” she shouted. She could see him fighting a smirk as he struggled to give her an apologetic look.

“It looks like it’s sprained,” he told her. “But we should probably get you to a hospital just to be safe. You could have a hairline fracture.”

Emma sighed, knowing he was probably right but dreading spending the rest of her day in an emergency room. “Alright,” she said, reaching into her pocket for her phone to call Mary Margaret but not finding it. She looked around helplessly. It must have fallen out when she fell. “You see my phone anywhere?” she asked the man.

He turned to look, clearly spotting something a bit further down the road and stood to go retrieve it for her. He gave her a slightly pained look as he handed it back to her and as she took it she saw why. It was broken - completely - screen shattered with small bits missing. That’s what I get for not buying a case she thought, groaning as she tried to turn it on but the screen remained black.

“Great. Just great,” she said, throwing the useless phone down beside her. She turned to the man, who had stayed silent throughout her little tantrum. “Can I use your phone to call a cab?” she asked hoping for the kindness of strangers.

He nodded, pulling out his phone and unlocking it. He gave her a strange look as he handed it to her, like he wanted to tell her something but was worried about how she’d react. “What?” she asked, a little irritated because of the pain.

“The nearest hospital is almost thirty minutes away… it’ll be an expensive cab ride,” he explained.

Emma sighed, hanging her head. She didn’t relish the idea of spending her meager savings on an expensive cab ride to what would be an expensive hospital visit but what other option did she have? She didn’t know her friend’s phone numbers and an ambulance ride would be just as expensive. She looked up when the man cleared his throat.

“I - I could drive you… if you like,” he offered. “It’s the least I could do.”

Emma took in his expression. He looked sincere but also fully aware of how one might take the offer of a ride from a stranger - no matter how good looking and charming he was.

“No offence,” she started, “but I don’t make a habit of getting into cars with complete strangers. I’ve watched the Ted Bundy Tapes,” she told him. She felt a little bad, she knew he was probably just trying to help and deep down she didn’t think he had any malicious intentions but… well, she’d trusted the wrong guy before. “You don’t really seem like the serial killer type but…” She worried he’d take offence but instead the corner of his mouth turned up in an amused smile.

“Aye but the serial killers never do seem the type do they?” he said in an almost joking manner.

Emma smiled back a little, strangely at ease around this man she still hadn’t officially met. “Exactly,” was all she said.

He nodded. “Hold on,” he said before standing and making his way over to the bed of his truck.

He rifled around in it for a moment before he found what he was looking for. He returned to her and handed her something. Emma took it and was surprised to find that he’d offered her a pair of pruning shears. She looked at them before staring at him blankly.

“Did… Did you just hand me a pair of shears? To stab you with?” she asked in disbelief.

He huffed out a laugh. “I promise there’ll be no need for that, love. But I thought they might help you feel a little safer.” The way he said it was almost a question and Emma just kept staring at him, shocked by the insane but weirdly considerate gesture. If she was being honest, the gesture made her feel safer than the sharp tool she held in her hand.

She channelled her superpower, looking into his kind, bright eyes that held nothing but sincerity and concern. He was telling the truth. Emma took a moment to try and digest the bizarre situation she’d found herself in. Sitting on the side of the road with a man she’d been eye flirting with for the last week and a sprained ankle, hitching a ride to the hospital while brandishing a weapon. This was not how she’d seen her morning going.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Yeah, okay, thanks.”

He smiled and stood, offering her a hand to help her up. She hopped up next to him, balancing awkwardly on one foot.

“Do… do you want me to carry you?” he offered hesitantly. Emma rolled her eyes. While the idea of being carried in his arms held some appeal, she felt she’d suffered enough embarrassment for one day.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she said with a bit more sarcasm than she intended. He smiled at the sass in her voice. “Maybe if I can just lean on you?” she suggested and he nodded again, his arm instantly going around her waist to steady her as she wrapped her own around his shoulders. Emma didn’t know what was more distracting, the feel of his shoulders flexing under her palm as he supported most of her weight to the truck, or the feel of his warm, calloused fingers against the bare skin of her waist. She really hoped they wouldn’t check her heart rate at the hospital because this man seemed to constantly be sending it through the roof.

He helped her into the passenger seat and it did not go unnoticed or unappreciated by Emma that he didn’t take the opportunity to ‘accidentally’ cop a feel of her ass as he boosted her up into the high cab of the truck.

“Good?” he asked, making sure she was settled.

“Good,” she answered.

“Got your shears?” he asked with a grin and Emma held up the scissors and waved them around a little like she was brandishing a sword. His grin grew and he reached to shut the door.

“I’m Emma!” she nearly shouted, making him freeze with the door still open, looking at her. “Emma Swan. Just… by the way.” Oh god, she was the most awkward human being in the world.  

The man just smiled again, softer this time. “Killian Jones,” he answered.

Emma nodded and with that, Killian shut the door. She waited as he made his way around and climbed into the driver’s seat. He looked at her for a second before seeming to realise something and turning to reach into the back of the cab. Before Emma could ask what he was doing, he emerged with a simple, black t-shirt hanging from his hook. He held it out to her and Emma was suddenly very aware of how underdressed she was. She took it, thanking him and slipping it on as he started the engine and took off down the road. Emma tried very hard not to focus on how good the shirt smelled, actively stopping herself from burying her nose in it. That’s not something normal people do, Emma, she told herself.

She cast a glance at the man sitting next to her - Killian. She was taken again by how attractive he was, especially with the sun just starting to rise and casting his profile in a soft, orange glow. But he was also so… she didn’t know what word to choose. Kind? Thoughtful? Shy? That last one surprised her the most. She hadn’t met many men who looked like him and blushed nervously when a woman smiled at them. She also hadn’t met many men who looked like him and spent their mornings tending to flowers. If she was being honest, she’d never met a man like Killian Jones before. He was an enigma and he was one she desperately wanted to solve. The thought surprised her.

“Where are you from?” she asked, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“England,” he said, smirking as she rolled her eyes. “Surry,” he clarified.

“How’d you end up here?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and Emma was worried she’d asked too much. She barely knew the guy and she was bombarding him with personal questions.

“I was discharged from the Navy after I lost my hand,” he told her before she could take the words back and the way he said it suggested he’d lost a lot more than that but she didn’t push. “There wasn’t much left for me back home so I came to Boston on a whim. Wasn’t easy finding work that I could do one handed. Sure, there were a bunch of office jobs and the like but… sometimes you need to feel like you’re really doing something you know? Getting your hands dirty… or hand I suppose,” he joked and Emma smiled at how light hearted he was about his handicap.

She thought about her own work as a bail bondsperson. She knew what he meant. There was something about the ache in your muscles after a hard day’s work that office jobs had never lived up to. “I ended up meeting a mate who worked in landscaping and suggested I try it out - turns out I have a knack for it,” he told her with what she could only assume was an attempt at a wink.

“And here I thought you just had a hobby,” she told him, realising that the job suited him.

She liked listening to him talk. As they drove the rest of the way she asked more questions and slowly the man who was Killian Jones was revealed to her. He had worked with his friend’s company for a while before finally starting his own greenhouse and landscaping business, a job he clearly took great pride in. Soon, they were pulling into the hospital parking lot and the shears were left forgotten on the floor of the cab.

He helped her hop out of the truck and hobble through the emergency room doors and made sure she’d settled in one of the chairs before - despite her protests - standing to get the sign in sheets. He brought them back to her to fill out and took a seat next to her in one of the worn, plastic chairs. Emma suddenly felt guilty, worried that he felt he needed to stay, that she expected him to.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she almost blurted out, regretting it immediately as the thought of him leaving sat like a lead weight in her gut. He looked surprised and maybe even a little hurt.

“Oh, um,” he floundered. “Right. Sorry,” he said and Emma felt terrible. He made to stand and Emma stopped him with a hand on his arm, resting just above where his prosthesis ended.

“I mean, unless…” she hesitated. She wasn’t good at this. She liked him. She had to admit it to herself. She didn’t want him to leave now, especially not like this.

“Unless?” he asked, brows raised. He was clearly hoping she’d give him a reason to stay. Emma couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bring herself to ask him to spend the day with her in a hospital waiting room simply because she enjoyed his company and hoped that he enjoyed hers too. She just looked at him, biting her lip.

His expression softened and he sank back into his seat. “Well,” he said, “I should probably stick around if only to get my shirt back,” he grinned at her.

The wait went by quickly. They didn’t stop talking for the five hours they waited to be seen except when her stomach growled and Killian went on a mission to the vending machines, returning with his arms comically full of snacks both salty and sweet. They’d sat stuffing their faces while she told him about her work and he seemed genuinely fascinated by the stories she told him about some perps she’d tracked down. He told her stories of some of the shenanigans he and his late brother had gotten into when they served in the Navy together that had her laughing so loudly she received dirty looks from other patients.

She didn’t care. She liked him. Really liked him. It should have scared her but it didn’t. She felt comfortable talking and laughing with him in a way she’d only ever felt with a handful of people in her life - one of whom was her brother and the other her best friend. She was almost disappointed when the nurse called her name to be seen by the doctor. She’d forgotten why she was even here she was so wrapped up in Killian Jones - his laugh and his voice and his eyes and his stories and his smell and just… everything. She had it bad.

They took x-rays of her ankle and Emma was relieved to learn that it was only a sprain and she would be back on her feet and running in a few weeks if she rested it. The doctor gave her some crutches and she hobbled out of the room, scanning it for Killian’s face. She wasn’t disappointed. As she walked back into the waiting room his eyes met hers and a smile broke across his face so bright it made her heart thump wildly against her ribs. He rose to meet her.

“Hi,” she said, grinning dumbly.

“Hi,” he answered and Emma wasn’t sure her smile could grow any wider. “So what’s the verdict? Have I maimed you for life?” he joked.

“Nah, just a sprain,” she told him. “You’ll just have to carry me up to my third floor walk up for the next few weeks and we’ll consider your debt paid,” she teased back.  

“Gladly,” he told her and Emma snorted. “Would you like a ride home?” he offered and Emma paused. She didn’t ever have men over. Ever. Her home with Mary Margaret was her safe haven, one where only the people she trusted most ever trespassed. Her, her brother David, and her roommate had always been all she needed in life, all she had room for. She looked at him, watching as the slight self-consciousness crossed his features. She smiled. Maybe it was time to make a little more room.

“Seems only fair,” she shrugged. “I know where you live, after all.”

An expression crossed his face that Emma couldn’t quite read. Suddenly his face was red, his eyes cast down as he raised a hand to scratch behind his right ear lobe.

“Right,” he said. “About that…”

Emma stared at him, concern rising in her as she watched him shuffle awkwardly in front of her.

“I don’t live there,” he told he finally.

She frowned. “What?”

“I - That first day… I was making a delivery to the woman who lives there - Granny - she owns that diner?” Emma knew the diner he was speaking of but that didn’t clear up anything. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before his words came tumbling out at an impressive speed.

“That first day, I saw you running by and you smiled at me and you were so bloody pretty and then you literally ran away and I just thought maybe you’d be running by again the next day so I… came back and well I felt like a right tosser and a creep just standing there so I figured I should do some work… convinced myself I was just there to do Granny a favour - you know, make up for all the extra fries she gives me - and then you ran by again and you smiled again and well… I just kept coming back, hoping I’d eventually work up the nerve to speak to you,” he finished, looking at her like he was awaiting a sentence.

“So you don’t live there,” she clarified.

“No.”

“And Granny thinks what?”

He smirked a little. “That she’s a much better gardener than she is.”

He bit his lip, smile disappearing as she stared at him, processing everything he’d just told her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I understand if you think I’m some huge bloody creepy stalker and want nothing to do with me and -”

“I changed my route,” she cut him off.

He blinked. “Come again?”

She laughed at the absolute ridiculousness of it all. “The first day… it was the first time I went down that street. I usually run in the park. It was just going to be that one time but… I changed my route,” she finished, letting him put the pieces together on his own. When he did, the smile that spread across his face was the brightest she had seen yet, his cheeks turning pink in a way she was starting to like far too much.

He gestured towards the exit. “Shall we?”

Emma nodded and lead the way, both of them grinning like idiots the whole way back to his truck.

When they reached her apartment building, Killian helped her out of the passenger seat and handed her her crutches. They stood awkwardly, neither really sure how to say goodbye.

“Well, thanks, Killian. For everything today. You were a real hero.”

He blushed. “Think nothing of it, love,” he said. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Emma looked up at him through her lashes. Ask me out you idiot! She wanted to shout at him. Killian didn’t say anything and Emma had to stop herself from sighing in disappointment.

“Well, bye,” she said.

Killian offered her a sad smile “Bye,” he repeated.

Emma turned to leave, heart sinking as she made her way to the front door.

“Swan!” she heard him call behind her and whirled around as best she could on crutches. Killian jogged to catch up to her.

“I was just thinking,” he said, scratching that spot behind his ear again. “I feel we owe Granny for ruining her garden this morning. That hose really did a number on her daisies.” Emma looked at him, a little spark of hope flickering in her breast. “Perhaps we could make it up to her by having a meal at her diner… maybe tonight?”

Emma smiled wide. “Seems only fair,” she said in answer.

He gave her a goofy, happy grin. He stood for a moment, silent and smiling as he looked her face over slowly. She did the same. God was he handsome she thought as his eyes searched hers for a moment before finally, almost tentatively, he lowered his head down to press his lips to hers. Emma’s heart raced in her chest as he kissed her. It was sweet, gentle and exploratory. He didn’t move to touch her beyond the soft brush of their lips as they got to know one another and it made Emma’s heart swell.

When they broke apart, Emma was shocked that he could still look at her so shyly. She felt herself blushing in return. What was it about this man that made her like this? She’d never felt this way - all giddy and silly and warm. She liked it.

“See you tonight?”

“I’ll pick you up at 8,” he told her. He hesitated for a second and then, he swooped down and pressed his mouth to hers again, a quick, stolen thing, before he stepped back, waving goodbye as he walked to his truck.

Emma watched him go, realising suddenly that despite having spent the entire day with him, she didn’t want to wait until tonight to see him again. “Hey, Jones!” she called and he stopped, turning to face her. “Didn’t you promise to carry me up the stairs?” she teased.

A slow smile spread across his face. He took a step forward then stopped, turning to reach into the bed of his truck, collecting something and walking to meet her with it hidden behind his back. When he finally reached her, he held out a single pink flower that Emma didn’t recognize but had suddenly become her favorite.

“Far be it from me to go back on a promise,” he said.

She took the proffered flower from him, smiling at it then at Killian. “Nobody’s ever given me a flower before,” she mused, surprised by the revelation.

He smirked. “Well, you never forget your first.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, you owe me a piggyback.”

Killian gifted her more flowers than she knew what to do with over the months that followed and she treasured every one. The next time he gave her that same flower thought - the pink middlemist he’d given her the day they officially met - was a year later. There was a ring attached.

#cs #cs fanfic #captain swan #cs au

[lankylevi]

Rating: E Pairing: Levi Ackerman - Eren Jaeger Words: 2k Tags: Top Levi, Bottom Eren, Yoga Instructor Eren, Thigh-fucking, smut.

Summary: When Hanji and Izzy had lured him into getting a gym membership, Levi hadn’t been expecting it to be this challenging.

Note: (Late) Happy Birthday, @dinklebertarts ! I hope you enjoy your little fic <3

Read on AO3 or below

When Hanji and Izzy had lured him into getting a gym membership, Levi hadn’t been expecting it to be this challenging.

With his ass up in the air, he groaned internally at how unbelievably hot it was in here, both literally and figuratively. Sweat beaded in his nape and trickled down his back. Disgusting. The hot temperature in the room was one thing, but their instructor took it to a whole new level.

Eren, their current hot yoga instructor and Izzy’s brother, was one hot piece of ass. In front of the class, he presented himself on all fours with his firm cheek up, showing them how to do the exercise, which Levi had long forgotten the name of, since all his blood was rushing down south, as Eren slid forward on the mat, arching his back and neck.

Levi mimicked the movements, grateful that he could finally hide the awkward semi he was sporting in these stupid yoga pants. He took in a deep breath and he instantly regretted his decision as his throat and lungs burned when the ridiculously hot air of the room coursed through him.

“What is it shortie, out of breath?” Hanji winked at him and Isabel giggled in response.

“We warned you about this class.” She added and crawled back into the starting position. “Who said hot yoga was a piece of cake, hmm?”

“Shut it,” Levi grumbled, black strands of hair sticking to his damp forehead. Repulsive.

Hanji snorted and repeated the exercise, gracefully sliding over their light blue mat until their back arched and they could stretch their neck. “You seem awfully stuck, shortie. Maybe our hottie over there can help you.”

“Ugh,” Isabel rolled her eyes, “please don’t tell me you’re still crushing on my brother.”

When Levi was about to defend himself, Eren got to his feet and turned around to face the class. Only Eren could make sweat dripping down his chin look sexy.The liquid dribbled onto his white shirt and it made him look like he came straight out of a wet t-shirt contest, making it even harder for Levi to stay somewhat focused. Fuck.

“Great work guys, keep it up,” Eren said and took a sip of his water; Levi totally envied that water bottle and would gladly have Eren sucking on something else.

Levi’s eyes widened and he tensed up when Eren began to walk around the room, putting his hands on his student’s hips to help fix their form. God have mercy on him.

Many women had to bite their lip when the brunet stood behind them and adjusted their pelvis’, hell, even Levi noticed how they thirsted for his cock - and who could blame them, really. Eren was an absolute masterpiece; gorgeous eyes, bright smile, tanned skin, broad shoulders, defined abs and thighs that Levi would gladly place around his shoulder so he could eat-

Furiously shaking his head, Levi breathed harshly through his nose to keep himself grounded. Why oh why had he agreed to come here in the first place. Hot yoga his ass.

“Are you stuck, Levi?” Eren teased and Levi almost flinched when the brunet squatted down in front of him, bringing his face down to his level so they were only inches apart. The instructor glanced over his body and couldn’t help but chuckle at the position Levi found himself in. “Do you need some help getting up? I could-“

“No.” Levi cut him off, a bit harsher than intended, and immediately tried to compensate by giving Eren a half-assed smile. “No, I’m uh- I’m okay. Just stretching.”

Eren furrowed his brows at that while Hanji and Izzy couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at their poor conversation. “Okay then. Keep stretching.”

With a contemplative nod, Eren got back to his feet and Levi let out a heavy sigh. Fucking hell.

“You got it so bad,” Hanji snorted.

“Yeah, yeah.”

When class finally finished, Levi thought he could quickly make a run for it, but Eren’s hand on his shoulder when he was rolling up his yoga mat foiled his plan. “Is everything alright Levi, you seemed to be really struggling today.”

Fuck him sideways. Levi shrugged and managed to keep a straight face as he told Eren a blatant lie, “Guess I left my brain at work.” He made a move to get out of Eren’s hold but the brunet squeezed his shoulder tighter.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent,” Levi mumbled through gritted teeth as he squinted at his two ‘friends’ who giggled and winked at him when they left the room.

The brunet followed his stare and let out an amused puff of air as he shook his head, “Isabel is such a bully. As if she’s never had a crush on her teacher before.”

Levi choked on his spit, “Well, shit.”

“Yeah, you’re not very subtle.” Eren grinned, “And I heard Izzy pestering you during class.”

Pursing his lips, the raven hummed as he contemplated leaving right then and there, but with the way Eren was eyeing him up and down as he bit his lip, he knew he had to take this chance. “Guess I no longer have to try and hide my boner, then.”

Eren’s face instantly heated up, cheeks turning crimson and he placed both hands on his hips to keep himself steady under Levi’s intense stare. “That was upfront.”

“Says the one looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.” Levi scoffed, noticing Eren’s flustered fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Strike one. “But who am I to judge, I’ve been lusting after you since day one.”

Eren looked at him, flustered and as red as a tomato. He shook his head, unable to keep himself from averting his gaze. Strike two. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s there not to get? You’re a hot piece of ass and the positions you contort yourself in are just, well, you get the idea.” Levi winked and darted out his tongue to lick at his bottom lip. His confidence grew when Eren’s eyes shot up and he heard a small whine escape his throat. Strike three.

Eren realized his defeat the second Levi took a step forward. All he could do was gulp and stare as Levi swatted his hands away and replaced them with his own, pulling him forward until their bodies were flush together. “Fuck.”

“I might take you up on that offer one time.” Levi chuckled and traced Eren’s firm abdomen with his fingertips. The yoga instructor’s body was like a wet dream, but now, after weeks of torture, he could finally lay his hands on him.

Eren shuddered under his touch and Levi felt the brunet’s cock twitch when he gripped onto his thighs. Sensitive thighs? He was hitting all of his kinks today.

Smirking, he latched onto Eren’s lips and didn’t hesitate to swipe his tongue across his bottom lip. The brunet happily obliged and let Levi’s tongue delve into his mouth. Tongue tickling the roof of his mouth, Levi got a filthy moan in return and dragged Eren towards the wall covered in mirrors. He pressed him against the glass, hands roaming over his body as he devoured his mouth.

A high-pitched whimper was all that left Eren’s lips as he was so deliciously manhandled and he whined desperately when Levi’s hands stopped pressing into his thighs.

Levi turned him around so he faced himself in the mirror as he dropped down to his knees and massaged and bit his way down. Slipping his fingers under the elastic band of the Eren’s pants, he dragged them down until they fell to the floor. He smirked and couldn’t help but suck and nip at the glorious naked thighs presented in front of him.

After rolling the sensitive skin between his teeth, drawing out more whimpers and moans, he got back to his feet and lazily stroked Eren’s heavy cock before noticing the brunet hiding his face in his shirt. Levi was having none of that.

“Look at yourself,” Levi reached up around the brunet and grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re so fucking sexy, Eren. Fuck.”

Eren glanced up at their reflections, finally seeing what Levi saw; his neck was flushed red, hair a mess, chest heaving with every breath he took, cock dangling heavy between his legs, thighs spread apart. He shook his head, voice breaking, “I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” Levi said and met his eyes in the mirror, blown wide with need; leaving nothing but a ring of silver to stare back into, and grabbed Eren by his thighs. He kneaded the flesh, a guttural groan leaving his throat at how perfect Eren’s body fit in his hands. Smirking, he grabbed the brunet by his hips and pulled him back, grinding his clothed arousal between the two round globes of his ass.

Eren whined, panting harshly as he reached behind himself, desperately tugging at Levi’s pants, frantic to get to his hard cock. And Levi eagerly obliged.

When he slipped his dick in between Eren’s gorgeous thighs, the brunet let his head roll back against his shoulder as Levi lazily started stroking his cock. Collecting the bead of precome and smearing it over his shaft, he messily thrust his cock between his legs. Hot, slippery and pulsing with every snap of his hips.

Levi groaned and licked a stripe over Eren’s shoulder, biting down on the junction between his collarbone and neck with a smirk. Eren was losing it fast. Who would’ve thought he had been lusting after him as much as he had?

Thumbing the slit, the raven drew more sinful noises out of the brunet, tugging on his hair and bringing him to his level so he could whisper in his ear; telling him how beautiful he was and what a good boy he was being for him.

Eren bit his lip, moans and whines escaping his throat, tears stinging in the corner of his eyes and threatening to fall as Levi licked the shell of his ear and picked up his pace. “Lev- I’m, I’m close.”

He felt Eren’s body go rigid, cock pulsing in his hand and he knew it’d only take a few more precise thrusts and pumps for the brunet to fall apart under his touch. “Then be a good boy and come for me.”

After a few more tugs, followed by gradually stuttering breaths, Eren’s balls tightened and his release splashed on the mirror in long ropes as he cursed out Levi’s name with a strained cry.

Levi groaned out Eren’s name as he followed suit, eyes squeezed shut, hiding his face against the brunet’s back. It had all gone a bit too fast to his taste, he had wanted to savor every little noise and twitch Eren made but the build-up lust had taken over. He blamed Eren and his gorgeous thick, muscled thighs.

They both stood there, panting for a few minutes before Levi tucked his softening cock back into the confinement of his pants and Eren reached down to pull up his own.

“I should uhm, probably clean this,” Eren croaked out and awkwardly rubbed his nape. “Can we, I don’t know…”

“Do this more often?” Levi grinned and ran his hand down Eren’s back, not stopping himself from giving his ass a firm squeeze, “Or date?”

“Yes,” Eren chuckled and cocked his head to the side, cheeks still tinted pink as he leaned down to leave a quick peck on Levi’s parted lips. “And yes.”

#ereri #riren #rivaere #eren x levi #snk #levi ackerman #eren jaeger #mywriting #fic: kama #lordt i do not like this name but hey #i make yoga puns now apparently #nff #toplevi #fic