#I can curl my tongue against the roof of my mouth and whistle through it

[cardierreh15]

Double Stuffed

Oreo’s aren’t the only thing that are double stuffed around these parts 😌 enjoy

***I do not give anyone permission or my consent to repost, translate or copy my work!

Warnings 18+: 3️⃣ sum, Cursing , Voyuerism , Oral Sex (Male Receiving) , Nipple Stimulation , Squirting , Facial , Penetration (Vaginal 🤟🏾) PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

Pairings: Gus March-Phillips(Henry Cavill) x Black!Plus Size Female(Regina) x Anders Lassen(Alan Ritchson)

Special Guest: Betty 💕 @augustsprincess

Description: Regina has the time of her life!

Word Count: 3.8K

‘Oh girl c’mon it’ll be fun!’ Betty exclaimed as she tugged Regina’s hands, pulling her in the direction of the pub that was booming with country music, soldiers in uniform lingering about.

‘Betty!’ She snatched her hand away, watching Betty stumble before once again gaining her footing. ‘Girl, my daddy is in the service! What if someone saw me in there!’ She whined out.

Her small friend pursed her lips together hard, dusting off her polka dotted dress in frustration and running her slender fingers through her freshly done candy curls.

‘Your daddy-‘ she said the words with bitterness. ‘Ain’t here.’ She let out a loud sigh and placed her hands on her hips, ‘Look. I know you’ve been under the weather since the death of your fiancé and—‘

‘Oooh—‘ Regina rolled her eyes, interrupting Betty. She let out a humorless scoff, ‘is this what this shit is about?! Getting me out of the house?!’

Betty gave her a look in bewilderment, glancing to the side with her hands remaining on her hips, ‘Uh yeah? Listen, let’s just treat it as a girl’s night?’ She walked up to her friend and draped her arm across her shoulders. ‘Look at these tall, delicious specimens huh?’ She waved her free hand slowly in the air. ‘Sure you could take one home!’

She was challenging her.

Regina glanced over at her friend and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, ‘Oh Betty, I don’t know. This is a bar full of… crazy, nut jobs … pent up from rage, exhaustion, … lust.’

‘Mmmhmm?’ Betty egged on with an encouraging nod.

‘M-maybe we should—‘

‘That’s my girl!’ Betty exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air before clasping them together happily. ‘See I knew you couldn’t stand a chance! Come on!’ Betty snatched up her friend’s hand and led the way towards the stairs. ‘I promise if you feel unsafe or it just gets too wild in here— we’ll leave!’

‘Mmph, say you swear.’ Regina retorted, stopping the both of them in their tracks. Her pretty brown eyes glistened beneath the pretty bulbs that hung above them.

‘Cross my heart,’ Betty turned halfway and drew an ‘X’ over her chest, ‘Hope to die. Now. Can we go inside?’ She jerked her head towards the door.

Her stoic glare instantly shifted into something lighter, her grin spread across her face, ‘OK fine let’s go.’

The two women walked inside of the bar, hand in hand. The place was only lit by some old lamps that were screwed into the walls, and one old rusted chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Honestly, if it weren’t for that old thing, you’d have to squint to look at folks.

‘Wow! Look at this place!’ Betty beamed as she placed her hand over cleavage. ‘It’s amazing.’

Regina’s brows tugged into one, ‘Are we looking at the same place?’

‘Oh Regina, don't be so judgemental! Look at all this … man meat.’ Betty giggled and glanced over at the bar. ‘Let’s go get a drink in ya? Help you… mellow out a lil bit.’

Without an ounce of warning, Betty led the way towards the bar.

It wasn’t until their stroll when whistles began to fill the air. Mumbling and cat calling could be heard throughout the loud hymns of the music.

Both of the women were beautiful in their own right. Betty was blonde, with perfect porcelain skin. She had a slender figure but the waist of her dress seemed to emphasize the curves in her hips and the one on her rump.

Regina had skin that was brown as terracotta. Glowing like bronze when in the path of the sun. Her hair was dark as the shadows of night, patterned with tight curls and coils that cascaded down her back. She wore a black velvet bodycon dress that also enhanced her curves, dimples and hip dips.

When they made it to the bar, the barkeeper seemed to be startled for a second.

‘Ladies—‘ he stammered and quickly placed the rag and glass down upon the bar top. ‘Aren’t you two beauties a sight for sore eyes,’ he spoke in a heavy accent. And by the knot in his bottom lip, his tobacco was the reason for his twang. ‘What can I do you for?’

Betty gave him a charming grin, batting her thick dark lashes. She was bashful and convivial by nature. ‘Hi there. Can you pour me and my friend somethinggg… pungent? Thank you.’

Regina snapped her head over at her friend, glaring at her with eyes of astonishment. ‘Betty!’ She hissed, quickly snatching her wrist up in her palm.

‘Whaaat?’

‘Pungent? Really? I would like to know how we get home, please.’ She muttered.

‘Oh please stop being dramatic! What’s the point of coming out tonight if we can’t make the best of it? Relax.’

Finally tearing her eyes away, Regina looked to her right to scope out the room. Men of all colors and sizes were either looking in their direction, laughing and gambling or drinking til their hearts were content.

This really didn’t feel like a safe place at all.

When the barkeeper brought their drinks back, Betty pulled up her small clutch, ‘How much do I owe you sir?’

‘Nothing at all ma’am.’ He said, raising his hand. ‘The gentleman over there is willing to pay for your tab.’

Both of the women looked back at the mysterious male, whose bright blue eyes spoke before his lips did. He sported a thick mustache over his lips with his dark hair combed back to perfection. He stood to his feet, adjusting his brown slacks around his hips. His coat was decorated in pretty devices and ribbons. Some big hot shot.

He looked like he wanted to snap her in half. She was small enough to make that accomplishment.

‘Oooh. Regina?’

‘Yeah?’ Regina said as she stared at the handsome hunk of man that approached them.

‘I think you might have to busy yourself for the rest of the night.’ Betty quickly scooted off the wooden bar stool and knocked back her freshly poured whiskey. And in no time, the gentleman was towering over little Betty like a skyscraper.

Regina gasped, ‘Betty—‘

‘Miss?’ The barkeeper interrupted.

She snapped her head over at him at his call.

‘It appears you have secret admirers of your own.’

Her thick brows pulled into one as she sat up straight. ‘M-me?’ Plural? ‘Admirers? Who?’

The barkeeper glanced over to the corner of the room.

Her anxious eyes followed his gaze to the far right corner of the room. There sat two freakishly large men beneath a flickering yellow light.

One donned a large beard with a curled and dramatic mustache. His hair was curly and pushed back except one strand that dangled against his forehead.

The other had a clean shaven face with dirty blonde combed back hair. A set of round lenses sat on the bridge of his nose.

If their gaze had been daggers, she’d be dead.

‘Both. Of them?’ Regina hushed out.

‘You see em both lookin’ don’t cha?’

She swallowed her spit so hard she thought there was a lump there. She looked over at Betty who was getting more than acquainted with her new beau. Giggling and smiling like brand new love birds. Their whispers and flirts couldn’t be heard over the music.

‘Betty? There’s two! What do I do!?’ She was quite the neophyte when it came to things like this. Often men, one at a time, had courted her but two?! What would she do with two of them?!

Well, she would soon find out that she could do a lot more with two than she could do with just one.

Her friend looked over at her and gave her a wink.

Before she could coax an answer out of Betty, she felt the heavy warmth of their presence standing behind her.

Betty let out an excited giggle as her attractive stranger nibbled on her exposed neck.

Regina’s back stiffened with her legs crossed, unknowingly arching and causing her rump to stick out beneath her.

‘Excuse our intrusion Miss… but it would be great pleasure if you accepted our invitation to join us in our room this evening.’

The English accent was thick yet, blended with pure charm. His voice settled and nestled in the crevices in her brain.

She swallowed hard once again and lifted her shaky hand to scoop up the whiskey glass. Pressing it to her lips, she thought for a second.

If she took a sip of this drink, there was no going back! Ain’t no telling what these two strangers planned on doing to her once they were behind closed doors.

But perhaps, maybe this is what she needed. Her late fiancé had been gone for 1 year now and she couldn’t hang on to that forever. During her stage of grieving, she’d worked tirelessly to keep herself busy.

She deserved it!

Even if it meant getting torn to shreds by these two … delicious specimens.

Regina smirked at the barkeeper and knocked back the whiskey that burned her stomach profusely. She blinked hard before swallowing down the pain and courageously spun in her stool.

When her eyes had finally met theirs, she felt a pang in her chest. By the Heavens! Bless their mothers for carrying such prodigious of boys.

‘Oh!’ She placed her hand bosom. ‘My— you are big men.’

A smile curled up on their lips before they looked at one another knowingly.

‘Do you accept our offer, Miss?’ The blonde one spoke up. His accent was much different from the original one she’d heard.

She looked over at Betty who was now sporting her beau’s service cap and locking lips with him.

Well, Betty was having the time of her life. What kind of person would she be if she took their free drink and left?

What would your daddy say?

Fuck your daddy.

You deserve this, Regina. Go have fun.

Uncrossing her legs, she carefully slid off of the chair and adjusted her dress at the thighs. ‘I accept.’

They grinned in sync, showing off their darling smiles. It caused a knot to tie in her gut. By God they had to be angels sent from up above.

They turned as they both lended her their arms for her to grasp. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and her neck as she reached out to grab their biceps.

‘Oh my—‘ she giggled as she squeezed them both. ‘Such strong men I got! I’m a lucky girl.’ Regina purred as she looked up at the bearded one. ‘Shall we?’

‘We shall.’

***

They stared down at her with a desire only men in this time could only have.

Regina gripped the silk sheets in her sweaty fists as their studious glares began to roam her curvaceous body. Starting from her pink painted toes, her thick thighs, her hips and tummy, her breasts and finally… her pretty round, chunky face.

The woman felt like she was under a damn microscopic lense with how they were staring at her. Her thigh bounced vigorously. She couldn’t tell if they wanted to eat her or dissect her. Regardless, it scared the shit out of her.

‘Lassen?’ The fellow with the beard said softly.

‘Yes sir?’

Sir? Did these two work with one another?

‘You may start.’

‘Wait— wait…’ Regina called out first as the bearded one walked towards the floral embroidered chair and shrugged off his coat. ‘Could I know your names? I mean— I would like to know who I’m letting into my lady bits.’ She said humorously.

The one known as Lassen looked back at his comrade. And they gave one another a firm nod in approval.

‘My name is Anders Lassen and this is Gus March-Phillips. What is your name lovely?’

Anders and Gus. Should be able to remember that.

‘My name is Regina Carson…’

‘Mmm. Very pretty name, for a very pretty woman.’ Gus said as he began to unbutton his dress shirt.

An enamored grin curled up on her lips as her tongue gently grazed her pretty smile.

Her eyes then darted up to meet Anders as he pushed off his suspenders and pulled his tucked shirt from inside of his trousers. He then pulled the fitted shirt over his head and dropped it to the side of the bed.

Good lord, he had the body of a God. Muscles ripped and tight. Her mouth went to salivating almost immediately.

Grabbing her hand, he lifted her up to her feet and brought her body flush against his. He lifted her chin, bringing her lips up to meet his in a kiss.

Regina’s eyes fluttered closed as she purred at the welcoming warmth of his lips. At first, it was just him testing the waters but she quickly fell into place; opening her mouth allowing him to invade as he pleased.

Anders snaked his hands behind her, finding the fine zipper and dragging it down.

Suddenly, she felt the warmth of another set of lips on the nape of her neck. Regina tore her lips away from Anders as he began to help her out the sleeves of her dress. Her head lulled back against Gus’ shoulder before he brought her mouth into a kiss next. And just like Anders, she opened her mouth nice and wide for him.

His beard and mustache tickled her lips and cheeks.

Before she knew it, the three of them were fully nude.

The both of them stroked at their members; aching to feel how warm she was from the inside out. But first…

Gus carefully forced Regina to her knees before them. Her eyes grew in slight shock at the size of their members. Both uncut, veiny and hard enough to slice through bricks.

‘You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, sweetheart.’ Gus said as his fingertips caressed her cheek softly before pushing her thick hair behind her ear.

‘No. I wanna.’ She shuddered out before sitting up on her knees, wrapping her hand around Anders cock and her lips around Gus.

Both of the men let out a pleasant groan in unison as she massaged one and sucked the other.

Careful not to show one too much attention though, she alternated and began to suck Anders off while stroking Gus. Anders’ knees buckled as she began to throat him just the same as she did with Gus.

‘Ugh, fuck.’

‘Just like that.’

The boys groaned at her teasing. She did everything she could to please them. Tightening up her lips, gagging against their cocks when they touched the back of her throat, squeezing and massaging their balls delicately. At her rate, they both would be making a mess of her in no time!

‘Stop.’ Gus grunted as he carefully pulled his hips away from her warm mouth. He shuddered before letting out a sigh. ‘Anymore of that and I’ll explode. Up.’

At his command, she placed her hand in his as she stood to her feet. ‘Anders… you first. I’d like to watch.’

‘As you wish.’ Anders said with a devious smirk.

Watch?! While she’s never done something this spontaneous and … sinful, she had no idea people were into watching other people fuck. But if it were to please her boys… she’d do whatever they asked.

She watched him walk over to the same chair and plop down; his hard dick swaying and slapping against his thigh.

‘Bend over, darling. Feel free to tap me if it’s too much. I will stop.’

Regina giggled as she bent over the bed. ‘Too much? Please.’

Spreading her thick thighs apart, Anders took a hold of his member and pressed it at her sticky entrance.

With a quick thrust, he stretched her against her will.

The poor woman let out a wail that was mixed with pleasure and undeniable pain.

Perhaps she spoke too soon.

Tears brimmed her eyes as she held her breath for a second, gripping the cool satin sheets.

Anders let out a blissful moan, holding himself deep inside of her as his large hands caressed up and down her curves and folds.

Gus had one leg draped over one arm over the couch as he stroked at his member, watching with excitement in his eyes and an intrigued smirk on his lips.

‘Fuck!’ Regina cried out before she felt him slam himself into her once more, his fingertips digging into her waist. ‘Dear God! Ah!’

A few thrusts and Regina was able to take this intruder comfortably now. With her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she thought she was seeing stars already.

Anders began to pound into her hard and fast before reaching down to grip her hair in his fist. ‘Yeah. Call out to him baby. He can’t save you now.’

She looked up at him through her thick lashes. ‘Ooooh— my god! Yes! Anders please!’ She pleaded as his body collided into hers relentlessly.

‘Oooh. Fuck, you feel so good baby. Take me. Take me baby.’ Anders hissed through his teeth.

‘Aaaaah yes!’

‘Fuuuck, nicely done Anders. Show her what you’re made of.’ Gus grumbled as he reached his free hand beneath himself and squeezed his tender balls.

Hissing through her gritted teeth, she looked over to watch Gus get himself off. His chest and biceps tense as he stroked his girthy, thick cock. Such a beautiful sight.

Anders pulled Regina’s hair, making her stand up straight against him. He wrapped his large veiny hand around her throat, forcing her into a disgusting kiss. His thrusts became a little slower and forgiven as one hand cupped her breast and his other arm wrapped around her waist, gripping her belly for stability.

When he broke the kiss, he began to ram his hips into her once again as her breathing hitched and strained. ‘Hoooo— yes, yes, yes!’

Finally, Gus stood from his seat and approached them. He landed a slap on Ander’s ass and jerked his head to the side. ‘Don’t be stingy, Lassen. She’s ours.’

Ours.

Anders groaned in dismay but obeyed. Landing one more kiss on Regina’s mouth, he retracted his hips and took place on the bed; propped up on his knees.

Gus looked down at the woman with gentle eyes, ‘tap out of it becomes too much sweetie.’ He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips before sucking her bottom lip between his teeth gently.

Drunken with lust and pleasure, Regina dizzily plopped down on her back and spread her thighs for him.

‘Aren’t you a pretty sight? Might have to give you a son… or marry you? What do you think, Lassen?’

Anders laughed darkly as he scooted down so his still erected cock was pressed against her cheek. ‘Pretty indeed. Now open up doll… I wanna see you put those pretty lips to work while you’re getting fucked.’

His words caused her to writhe in excitement. Her core was aching to be filled once more. She lifted her head and parted her lips as she guided his cock back into the home of her mouth.

Gus sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he pushed her thighs back and pushed his tip inside of her and began to slowly roll his hips into her.

Closing her eyes, Regina hummed against Anders cock causing a vibration to rumble at the back of her throat. ‘Ohh—‘ his head fell back as his hand held onto the back of her head. ‘Fuck! You’re so tight.’ He swallowed as he reached down toying and pinching at her hardened nipples.

Gus began to pick up the pace, his finger tips digging in her plushy flesh tightly. Forcing her thighs back as he delved his hips into her once more. He then reached down and began to rub at her erected nub softly.

‘Fuck! You look so pretty with Anders dick in your mouth.’

Anders groaned as he thrusted his hips forward into Regina’s mouth; anglelessly hitting all the spots in her warm, wet mouth.

‘Mmmm—‘ Regina cooed as she pulled her lips away to curse, using her hand to jerk off Anders. ‘Fuck, Gus! Please!’ She begged, her thighs twitched at the creeping sensation.

Gus thrusted fast as he rubbed her clit in circles a little faster.

‘Gus! Oh, my god!’ Her thighs began to tremble as she felt her womb tighten up. Her body stiffened and her chest tightened. Gus stilled his hips and focused on her. ‘I’m gonna—‘ Her back arched and her toes curled as the heat in her body popped off like fireworks on new years.

She released a scream that could be heard throughout the hotel. And with that scream, came a sudden burst from her loins. She exploded like a damaged fire hydrant.

Gus looked up at Anders in surprise and Anders returned the glare.

‘Whoa—‘ both of the men laughed in darkly.

‘Have you ever done that?’ Anders asked with a grin spread across his lips.

‘Quite a few times.. you?’

‘Once.’

‘Well, we shall see if we can get a few more out of her, yes?’

‘I’m with you sir.’

While both of the men experienced this kind of mess, she never experienced a pleasure so great. Her head throbbed as she tried to process what the fuck just happened. Her cheeks remained hot to the touch, her trembling lips sore from all of their sweet, heavy kisses.

‘Brace yourself sweetheart. We aren’t done with you yet.’

Anders and Gus laughed beguilingly as their large hands caressed over her sticky, brown flesh.

A glint of thrill shown in her sex-crazed eyes. She was hyped. ‘O-OK!’

With the stamina of these two men, Regina was sure she lost enough weight to fit into her graduation gown from high school.

She was fucked into exhaustion and dehydration, so she was relieved when they both announced their arrivals.

‘On the floor baby. Yeah— fuck look at you.’ Ander groaned as the both of them helped her to her knees.

‘Open wide baby.’ Gus added as they both began to stroke their members until they reached their climax.

Regina’s eyes gleamed, her hands massaging their muscular thighs that tensed and squeezed beneath her touch. She opened her mouth, tongue out to capture those sacred drops.

‘UGH! Ba—‘

‘Fuuuuuck… yes!’

The two men groaned aloud as they emptied themselves upon her pretty face and mouth. Wrapping her hands around the both of them, she squeezed and coaxed the rest of their nut out of them.

Gus’ knees buckled as his eyes rolled back halfway. Then, she gave them both a kiss on the tip of their now flaccid dicks.

Anders let out an exhausted sigh. ‘Oh. What do we do with you now.’

‘Well…’ Gus added, ‘I have quite a few ideas.’ He trailed off.

Wiping her face and flicking off the sticky semen, she looked up at them in horror.

Now what?

2 years later…

Regina clamped her eyes shut tight as she rested her lower hand on her lower back. ‘Ooh… my days.’ She rubbed at the roundness of her belly with her free hand, as the other carried out a metal tray of fresh lemonade and a couple glasses of ice.

She walked out to the backyard to see Anders flipping burgers at the grill with his “Kiss the Cook” apron on while Gus tossed a football to Betty’s husband, August. Betty was bouncing her sweet baby boy in her arms, showering him with kisses and love.

This was the life.

A smile curled on her lips when Anders sweet, gentle eyes landed on her. ‘Let me grab this for you.’ He rushed over and carefully took hold of the tray and placed it on the picnic table. ‘How’s my girls huh?’

‘The same as yesterday, Lassen.’ She sighed heavily and rubbed her pregnant belly, ‘Tired. Aching.’

‘Aw. I know sweetheart. Just a few more weeks.’ He said before placing a kiss on her head. ‘Sit.’

Gus sat the football down in the lush green grass and jogged towards the deck. ‘There’s my girl. Hey, mama.’ He mused as he placed a kiss on her lips. ‘How are you feeling?’

Regina pressed her lips together and glanced over at her other husband.

Anders stared at Gus for a little bit and chuckled, ‘To save you from her wringing your neck … she’s feeling the same as she did yesterday.’

Gus sighed softly, ‘Oh my sweet. Forgive me for asking. Is there anything you need?’

She shook her head as her head fell back against the lawn chair. ‘No my darlings… I’m fine.’

Regina closed her eyes for a long second before feeling a sudden wetness in her bottom.

Her eyes flashed open.

‘Boys.. I don’t think I’m peeing myself again…’

Tags: @peternoonewantsthat @wa-ni @ellethespaceunicorn @milknhonies @the-kanamori @viking-raider

#henry cavill #gus march phillips #Alan Ritchson #Anders Lassen #Gus March-Phillips x Black!plus size female #Gus Phillips x black!plus size female #Anders Lassen x black!plus size female #Henry Cavill x black!plus size female #Alan Ritchson x black!plus size female #xblack!plus size oc #black!oc #black!fem!reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill fanfic #Alan ritchson fanfic #the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare #Henry Cavill smut #Alan ritchson smut

[cheollipop]

good morning

navi | taglist

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.8k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, so soft-

at eight in the morning, yunho decided that a little exercise was the best way to start the day.

warnings: barely any plot rip, morning sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering (f receiving), nicknames (yuyu, baby, angel, love, sweetheart), praise, aftercare, yunho is a little bit of a tease oop, just some soft morning sex that kind of goes crazy once they get into it-

A/N: this man is not even a part of my bias line but he has me by the neck- ehem, this was very self-indulgent. enjoy! ;;

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

══════ *.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.* ══════

Noticing the continuous shuffling behind you, you looked over your shoulder at the body lying on your bed, long limbs tangled up with the comforter. The sun peeked through the shutters to cast gold against Yunho's skin. His eyes – half-open, lidded with the remnants of his dream – gazed over your figure as you dried yourself off, watching the water droplets from your shower scattered over the expanse of your skin catch the sunlight.

He breathed out a low whistle when your eyes met, "don't mind me, just enjoying the view."

A coy smile played on his lips, his gaze trailing up and down your exposed body. Your eyes followed the lazy movement of Yunho's hand, palming the forming bulge in his boxers.

"A little too much, it seems," the corners of your lips curled upwards, and you let out a breathy laugh.

Yunho shrugged, his smile playful, reaching his hand out to usher you towards him with two fingers and a whispered come here. You glanced at the clock on the wall, the small hand pointing to eight.

"But it's so early," you whined despite the waves of warmth rushing to your core.

Your legs moved on their own, making their way to the bed where Yunho laid. He sat up, supporting himself on his forearm, the warmth of his palm as it cupped your hip sending a shiver down your spine. Yunho pressed his lips to the skin under your bellybutton, peppering kisses over your tummy before looking up at you with doe eyes.

"Can I have you?" He squeezed at your skin, blinking up at you with a small pout to his lips. "Please?"

–

Yunho pumped two fingers into your sopping heat, your cheeks flushing at the wet noises your cunt made every time he stuffed his digits inside. His tongue circled your nipple before taking it into his mouth, giving it a sharp suck.

"Yunho, baby," you panted, his fingers pressing against the spongy spot along your walls. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, "take – a-ahh – take this off."

You reached down to work two fingers around your clit while Yunho tossed his shirt off and into one of the corners of your room.

"My needy baby couldn't wait five seconds for me to finish?" He pushed your hand away, sinking his fingers back into you and pumping them directly against your g-spot. "Needs something stuffed in her cunt at all times, hm?"

"Fuck, right there," your eyes fluttered shut and you rocked your hips to the rhythm of Yunho's fingers.

Seeing pleasure taking over your features, Yunho couldn't help but lean in to slot his lips against yours. It quickly turned sloppy, your tongue pushing against his as it ran over the roof of your mouth, his fingers quickly edging you closer to your high.

Yunho slipped his fingers out of you as soon as your walls began to clamp down on them, giving your clit a few firm taps and watching as your hips jerked. He took in how your expression changed from bliss to confusion, eyebrows drawing in and your eyes shooting open.

"Why'd you stop?" Your hips followed his fingers, chasing his touch. Yunho watched you squirm under him, a smirk playing at his lips and his eyes glazed over. "Yuyu, please," you whined, the tingling feeling of your orgasm fading away.

Your hand reached down to circle your clit again, trying to push yourself over the edge, but Yunho pushed it away and locked your fingers together, pressing them into the pillow by your head. His mouth connected with yours before you could complain, pulling away a few seconds later to nip at your bottom lip.

"I've got you," he whispered against your lips, his free hand reaching for his hard length, sucking in a sharp breath when he squeezed his fingers around his girth before positioning it at your entrance.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as Yunho pushed into you, sinking into your heat inch by inch until your pelvises were flush against each other. The stretch bordered on painful, but the sight of Yunho squeezing his eyebrows together, eyes shut tightly as he tried not to cum while your walls clenched and relaxed around him – you almost came on the spot.

Yunho touched his forehead to yours, placing gentle pecks against your lips while he rocked his hips into yours experimentally.

"Can I go harder?" He breathed out against your skin, sucking a bruise underneath your ear.

You nodded, the hand not holding his grasping at his forearm. "Please, please, Yuyu."

Yunho grabbed at your upper thigh, bringing your leg around his hips and began to piston his cock into you, drawing his length halfway out of your dripping cunt before pounding back in and grinding his hips into yours, then starting the routine all over again until you were a moaning mess under him – no coherent thoughts, only Yunho and his big cock making your toes curl.

Your orgasm sneaked up on you, sending shocking waves of pleasure throughout your body – your eyes rolled back, a series of airy moans leaving your mouth, your back arching under Yunho, pushing your tits into his chest as he fucked you through it with shallow thrusts aimed directly at your sweet spot. He groaned into your ear as your walls fluttered and squeezed around him.

Yunho kissed you through your high, sweet and deep while his free hand gripped your waist, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your soft skin. His hips picked up their pace again once you slumped back onto the bed, pleasure and pain mixing and making your body jerk every time he brushed against your g-spot.

You reached for his shoulder, digging your nails into the soft skin. "Yunho, it's too much!" You writhed under him. "Please-"

"You can take it," He leaned closer to your face, peppering kisses all over your cheeks and jaw as he ground his hips into yours, the motion making you see stars. "Can't you?"

You could tell he was close – eyes teary, chest a similar shade of red to his cheeks, hips grinding insistently into yours and his cock hot and heavy between your walls. The pain of overstimulation was beginning to fade, making way for pleasure to shoot up your spine every time Yunho drove himself deep into your abused cunt.

You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes and streaming down your temples, the steady rhythm he was fucking you at making your legs shake around him.

"Hm? What was that?" The corners of his lips curled into a cruel smirk, his lips parted while he panted lightly – already close to his release. "Use your words, sweetheart."

"I can take it, Yuyu. Please… please fuck me," you pleaded, never moving your eyes off his.

"So good for me, my beautiful angel," Yunho buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your body wash. You felt his cock twitch inside you.

Wrapping his arms around your frame, his head still tucked into your neck, he pounded his cock into you, pushing you higher up on the bed with the force of his thrusts.

"God, my pretty baby, I can't get enough of you."

He pulled moan after moan out of you, placing open-mouth kisses wherever he could, his fingers sliding under you to tangle into the damp hair at your nape. You ran your nails over his back, gripping at the smooth skin, already a breath away from your second orgasm.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, nails digging into Yunho's back as your orgasm washed over you, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Fuck fuck fuck, you breathed out, followed by repetitions of his name while he continued to pump his cock into you, unrelenting with his pace.

"Shit, ah. I'm close," Yunho breathed against your skin, his thrusts losing their steady rhythm, turning sloppy as he desperately chased his high. "My love," he let out a throaty moan. "You’re taking me so well. Fuck, you feel so good."

"Hnnngh- Yuyu, baby, please. I need you to come," your body spasmed under him with every thrust. "Please, I'm going to lose my mind."

His hips stuttered, thrusting into you twice before shoving his whole length into your overstimulated cunt, painting your pulsing walls with his load. He groaned into your shoulder, grinding his hips into yours as you milked him of every last drop.

"Fuck, baby," Yunho panted heavily, bringing his face to yours. Your eyes were closed, reveling in the warmth of his release filling you up, your thighs shaking around his hips.

"(Y/n)," he pecked your lips. "Let me see those eyes," another kiss. "My darling," and another at the corner of your mouth when your eyes fluttered open. "Love of my life," his lips traced the trail of tears drying across your temples.

You smiled, eyes softening as Yunho continued to pepper soft kisses all over your face. He held you tighter in his arms while he pulled his softening cock out of you, smiling to himself when he saw your reddened cheeks at the feeling of his cum seeping out of your gaping hole.

Yunho sat up, running his fingers through your drying hair before tenderly cupping your jaw. "Are you okay? Did I go too hard?"

You smoothed down the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your thumb, shaking your head, a shy smile on your lips. "Uh-uh, it felt really good."

Your words made Yunho grin, flashing his pearly whites at you with a bright red tint to his cheeks. His hair was all over the place, pointing everywhere but down. The sun illuminated one side of his face, his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones every time blinked. It was as if you were in a trance, too enraptured by Yunho's beauty to do anything but stare. Yunho smiled at that, exhaling a soft laugh. If only you could see yourself, he thought, admiring as the sheen of sweat covering your body glistened under the morning light. Your lips – cracked and swollen from all the kisses he refused to stop giving you. Your eyes, your hair, your body, you. You were so beautiful, Yunho almost thought he was hallucinating, disbelieving the fact that someone so perfect for him could ever exist – let alone have them lying under him, all fucked-out and dazed, blinking up at him like he had just given them the world.

With a final kiss to your forehead, he got out of bed – despite your whining and desperate attempts at pulling him back.

"Baby, I need to clean you up."

"You can do that later. I want to cuddle," you pouted, making grabby hands at Yunho.

The corners of his lips tugged upwards and he walked back to your bedside. You grinned, thinking he had given in, but instead, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"The sight of my cum leaking out of your pretty little cunt makes me want to fuck it back into you," he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear. "Would you like me to?"

Yunho ran out of the room giggling, barely dodging the swarm of pillows you threw in his direction, a string of curses echoing in your shared apartment.

He was back a few minutes later, a wet cloth in his hand. He sat by your hips and began to wipe the warm cloth over your skin, cleaning the sweat and cum. You grimaced, moving your hips back when he pushed the cloth into your sensitive hole, telling you to relax as he quickly flushed his release out of you.

He tossed the rag away when you were all cleaned up, sliding into bed and enveloping you in his arms. You buried your face into Yunho's chest, pressing a gentle kiss to the flushed skin. With your limbs tangled up under the comforter – and after a few whispered I love you's – you allowed your drowsiness to take over your body, getting an extra few hours of sleep wrapped up in Yunho's warm embrace.

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#jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #yunho smut #jeong yunho fanfic #jeong yunho oneshot #jeong yunho smut #ateez smut #kpop #kpop smut #yunho x y/n #yunho x you #jeong yunho x you #yunho scenarios #jeong yunho scenarios

[pedrito-friskito]

give what you take - frank castle x fem!reader (hell’s angel part ii)

summary: close calls in the windy city, and frank just can’t stay away from you.

warnings: okay so I thought the first one was raunchy? uh. canon-typical violence (if you watched the show you can handle this) - oral (m and f receiving), the briefest mention of squirting, brat!kink, dom!frank, frank’s filthy mouth, fingering, cursing, more than a few soft moments in this one cuz frank has taken up residence in my heart THANKS

a/n: yeah….I really wasn’t expecting the reaction I got from head to head but then I blinked and there was a whole series idea in my head, so here is part 2! it is LONG (I make no apologies though cuz I actually think this is some of my best shit lol) - almost 11k words, but there’s actually plot??? so enjoy 🥰

| main masterlist | series masterlist | ao3 |

Location: Chicago, Illinois

You scramble up the nearest fire escape, heartbeat in your throat, slamming against your ribs like its trying its hardest to burst from your chest. Below, a gunshot ricochets off the metal, making the whole fucking ladder shake with the impact. You grip the rail tighter, biting back the whimper that crawls up your spine. Chancing a look over the side, you see your pursuer staring back at you, a shit-eating grin on his face, an unkind laugh echoing its way up to you. The gold card in his hand glints up at you, catching on the strained sunlight barely breaking through the gloomy clouds above.

It’s too fucking early for this shit.

“Can’t run forever, Angel!” he calls. “I’ll just find you again!”

You turn back, continuing up the steps until you’re on the rooftop, rolling over the edge and sprawling flat on your back on the gravel. Your arm stings something fierce; his aim was shit but he’d managed to graze your shoulder. Blood wets your palm when you grip it, squeezing the wound over your coat. Fuck. You just had the thing dry-cleaned, too.

Panting, you pull yourself up, shuffling along the roof so you remain out of sight, to make him think you’ve taken off across the skyline. With any luck, he’ll head for the streets, try and pick you out overhead and come up empty. Even so, you reach into your coat, procuring the pistol.

It’s the same pistol Frank Castle had kicked towards you that night in New York. When he’d come to dance and you’d ended up doing everything but. Part of you still genuinely wonders if he’s a good dancer. Maybe you’ll never find out.

Maybe he’ll call you from that burner you left him, and you’ll get to learn.

Curling your fingers around the gun’s grip, a memory sparks, flooding your brain and leaving your body tingling. Frank, pressed against the wall of the house you’d claimed as your own, kicking the pistol towards you, giving you a nod, his lips parted and chest heaving. The Punisher, giving you the go ahead, trusting you to take down the man gunning for him.

It quickly bleeds into another image: Frank with his tongue down your throat. Frank with his big hand wrapped around your neck, cupping your chin. Frank with his face buried in your pussy, holding your legs  around his ears and making you cum on his tongue.

Another gunshot rattles you back to present day, whistling upwards and hitting the light mounted to the roof, not twenty feet from where you’re propped up. Another whimper slides up towards your teeth but you bite it back. Don’t cry, don’t cry, you do not fucking cry.

Except, fuck, you really want to. Things are not looking good.

He’d tried to grab you in broad fucking daylight.

And it was…him.

Betrayal tastes just as bitter the second time around, but here, in a city that’s not your own, that you’re not familiar with, it hurts double. And this time, he’s not just after your cash. He’s after your life. You’ll be damned if you let him have it, but it makes anxiety seep through your bloodstream, mixing with the adrenaline and leaving you queasy. Maybe you should have stayed in New York.

Maybe you should have stayed with Frank.

Shaking your head, you sink down deeper, rolling onto your stomach. The blood’s stopped flowing for now, and you army-crawl on your good arm, heading for the corner of the roof. If you can just line up a good shot, maybe you can end this here and now.

But when you finally make it to the corner, pull yourself carefully up to the edge to peer down at the street below, you find nothing but an empty alleyway. Fuck.

The sound of a door opening bursts through the too-quiet afternoon air, and you whirl, lifting your pistol. “Easy, lady!” It’s not him, which takes you a second to realize, and you lower the gun, shoulders sagging with relief as you haul ass to your feet, brush past the startled young dude you just pointed a gun at, and slip through the open door behind him.

There’s a Chinese restaurant in the lower level of the building, and you slip straight through the dining room and into the kitchen, gun still in hand, ignoring the shouts of protest and snagging a take-out container of noodles as you go, disappearing through the back door and heading straight into the next building.

The convenience store has a counter manned by an elderly woman who looks half asleep as you bee-line for the back, pushing your way into a disgusting bathroom and stowing your stolen noodles and your pistol in the pockets of your coat. You peel the sleeve off your injured arm, wincing as you go, covering the bloody skin with a wad of paper towel before pulling your coat back into place. You should send the fucker your dry cleaning bill, just for that.

You snag a chocolate bar and a bottle of gatorade, actually paying for the items — when you emerged from the bathroom, the old lady was watching you like a hawk — before heading back out. You scan the street before you step through the door, immediately crossing the street and heading into the business complex that takes up the other side of the road.

And that’s how it continues, blood pounding in your ears and your shoulder pulsing with every step, until you get…home. Or, more aptly put, the almost-shit-hole hotel you’ve been calling home for the last few weeks. It’s been nearly two months now, since you left New York, since you woke up in the arms of the Punisher and immediately knew you needed to get the hell out of dodge.

Biggest mistake of your life? It was certainly starting to feel that way.

But you’d left him that burner, the number you used most often the only one programmed in, and hoped that he’d call. You’d thought about making the first move yourself more than once since you left, but something always stopped you. And you definitely weren’t about to turn tail back to New York, not after the mess you’d left behind.

It feels like an eternity before you finally step through the door, immediately closing and locking it behind you, going to far as to drag the desk chair over and jam it under the doorknob. It’s not much, but it’ll at least give you a heads up if he decides to come knocking.

You stick the noodles in the microwave, pull your first aid kit out from where you’d stashed it under the bed, and carefully shrug out of your jacket. The paper towel from the convenience store has done a shit job of soaking up the blood, more just smearing it around your skin and getting caught in the gash. Your grit your teeth as you pull it away, reaching into your kit for supplies.

More memories spark as you clean the wound. Gauze pressed to your shoulder, Frank’s wide palm wrapped around your thigh, fingers getting dangerously close to your wet heat. His hands on your hips, pulling you down onto his cock, calling you good girl. Fingers on your chin, tracing your bottom lip, looking at you the way he did.

You really are something, sweetheart, you know that?

Your fingers shake as you stitch, and you curse, knowing it’ll leave a ragged scar, an ugly reminder of this time in your life. Tying off the thread and wrapping your arm in a bandage, your head feels heavy, the weight of the day catching up with you, the threat that seems to be following you around like a shadow — and not the sexy shadow Frank had provided — making hot tears crawl up your throat.

You turn on the TV, strip off the rest of your clothes, and perch on the edge of the unmade bed in your underwear, poking through your stolen noodles, pistol on your thigh. You haven’t had the courage to keep it anywhere out of arm’s reach lately, the cold metal a reminder that you know how to take care of yourself, that you’re perfectly capable of keeping yourself safe.

But right now? You really wish you didn’t have to.

You sniff hard, wiping wayward tears from your cheeks, and as if on cue, your phone starts to ring, vibrations shaking it across the table on the other side of the room. You all but toss the noodles aside, gun sliding into the sheets, and you pick up the phone, eyes scanning the number rolling across the screen, breath hitching in your throat.

Frank.

Sliding a shaking finger across the screen, you clear your throat hard, swallowing back the tears you’ve let fall thus far. Lifting the phone to your ear, you shove a hand through your hair. “Was wondering when I was gonna hear from you,” you drawl, masking your emotions best you can.

It earns you a husky laugh in return, one that makes you melt back onto the edge of the bed. Who the fuck is this guy, anyway? Why does he have such a hold on you, even three states away and after only one night in his bed? What the fuck?

“Woulda called sooner,” he rasps through the phone, and you sprawl back on the mattress, fisting a hand in the sheets. “Got into a bit of trouble after you left.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm, took care of it,” he mumbles. “You still bumming around Chicago?”

“For now,” you say, sitting up, retrieving your noodles from where they’re balanced on the mattress edge. “The Punisher making an appearance in the windy city?”

“Not him,” Frank says, “but Frank Castle just might, if you’ll have him. Not hunting you this time, sweetheart, not unless you want me to.”

You hum. “That’s an enticing offer. My bed has been rather empty since I left New York.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, and the possessive tone in his voice when he whispers good sends a thrill through you, distracting your clouded mind for a moment. You let your eyes sink shut, remembering how warm his skin was, how good it felt when he pulled your hair, that satisfying fill of him inside you. You need it again, there’s no denying that.

“Can be there in twelve hours, princess,” he says, and you chew your lip at the nickname. “You gonna meet me somewhere?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, telling him you’ll send the address to the burner. “I’ll leave a key for you at the front desk,” you say, “under…” You tell him your name then — your real name — and you don’t miss the sharp inhale on his end of the line when you say it.

He repeats it, the syllables slow but sure on his tongue, and it sends a chill down your spine.

“Just do me a favour,” you continue, “and keep calling me Angel.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “See ya soon.”

And the line goes dead.

+

As promised, a little under twelve hours later — yeah, he sped a bit on the highway, who gives a fuck? — Frank is in Chicago. He parks in the lot, slings his bag over his shoulder, sticks a handgun in the back of his jeans, and heads inside. He gives your name to the scrawny kid behind the counter, still silently delighting in the feel and sound of your name, and lifts a brow when the kid scrambles to find him the card, sliding it across with shaking hands. “Third floor,” the kid tells him, and Frank just nods, takes the card, and heads for the elevator.

The room is a fucking mess when he steps in the door, sheets strewn across the king-sized bed, empty takeout containers everywhere he looks, your godforsaken coat draped on the chair in the corner. There’s blood on the sleeve, and Frank tilts his head to the side. No way you would have left the thing stained for that long, and New York was almost two months ago.

He shuts the door behind him, flicks every lock and slides the desk chair beneath the handle. He tosses his bag on the bed, toes off his boots, drops his coat on the desk.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, light streaming into the otherwise dark room, steam curling around the door jamb. He nudges through the door, waving a hand through the steam, and you lift your soaked head, big eyes pinning him in place.

You’re crying, eyes red and bloodshot, and even through the wet glass, he can see the poorly stitched gash on your arm, weeping red across your skin. You say his name so quietly he can’t hear it over the pounding water, but he watches it curve across your mouth, your lip wobbling before your teeth sink into it.

In an instant, he’s stripping out of his clothes, jeans and boxers and t-shirt forming a heap on the floor, and he slides the glass door to the side, stepping into the scorching spray. He grits his teeth as it hits his skin, but you’re right there, tangible and real in front of him, not just a memory of that night in New York, not just a figment of his imagination invading his dreams during the few hours of sleep he manages to steal each night.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since that night, doesn’t know if he can stop.

You say his name again, and this time, he can hear it, your voice cracking halfway through, and it makes his chest tight. What happened to you? What happened to the crazy bitch who levelled a shotgun at his head on a dark road?

More importantly, who’s responsible?

He gathers you into his arms, turning you to the side so the water doesn’t drown you both, the heat starting to change from unbearable to comforting. “What happened, Angel?” he asks, one hand moving up the back of your head to knot in the wet strands of your hair. It’s shorter than he remembers, curling around his knuckles; you cut it. He likes it. “Tell me.”

You bury your face in his chest in lieu of an answer, hands curling into fists that rest on his pecs. You’re shaking, and worry seeps into his blood like a disease. He needs to know what happened. He needs to know who’s responsible, so he can fix it.

He has to fix it.

Tilting his head to the side, Frank grips your bicep gently, careful of the wound on your arm, and swipes his thumb across the stitches. You did a half-decent job, the stitches a little jagged and uneven, but at least it’s closed. He cups his palm beneath the water, lets it wash over the gash, over and over until the water runs clear instead of bloody.

“Who hurt you, sweetheart?” he asks, the hand still in your hair massaging at your scalp, dragging his nails lightly along it. “Who did this to you?”

Finally, finally, you lift your head, those big watery eyes looking up at him. There’s makeup smudged beneath your lashes, and he moves his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, swiping his thumb through the black smear. “You weren’t the only one with a gold card,” you say, your voice a little clearer, a little less shaky. You blink slow, leaning your face into his palm. “It was my…” You trail off, shaking your head once.

“Who, Angel?” he asks. “Tell me who hurt you. I’ll get every fuckin’ last one of ‘em, I swear to god.”

You inhale deeply, fists unclenching on his chest, nails scraping his skin. “It was my old partner.”

His brow grows hard, and you turn your head, looking away from him, hands slipping down and arms crossing over your chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

“We used to work together in New York,” you say, and he can hear the hurt slink back into your tone, a tear slipping out of your eye and down your cheek. “Before I was a regular at Sister Margaret’s, we ran jobs together. Underground shit, I don’t know. He handled all the contacts, I was usually the bait. I didn’t mind it at first, but then this one job…” You shake your head. “He was willing to let things go way too far, and I wasn’t having it, so I left. Finished the job myself, took the cash, and stayed off his radar.” You turn your head back to face him, and Frank can see the pain in your eyes. He doesn’t need any more elaboration than that. The details don’t matter to the rage bubbling in his gut. “And he didn’t like that.”

Your voice cracks and you almost collapse against the tile. Frank pulls you against his chest, holding you tightly, mouth pressed to the crown of your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs to you. “You’re safe. Nothin’s gonna happen to you, promise.”

You lift your head and your bottom lip wobbles, more tears leaking from your eyes, and Frank has both hands on your cheeks now, brushing each drop that falls from your eyes. You haven’t even given him a name yet, but his mind is already going; how many different ways can he make this fucker pay for making you feel like this? Treating a woman like that, his partner. Putting this much fear into your head, making you feel unsafe, making you scared for your life. What sort of sick, twisted shit can he force this guy to endure before he—

“Frank,” you call, your voice still wobbling, and Frank’s reverie breaks. You’re staring up at him, your hands having migrated to his hips while his mind had wandered somewhere violent, and he bites back a low groan when you squeeze lightly, thumbs digging into his skin. “Can you…” You trail off, dropping your head, leaning it against his chest.

“What, sweetheart?” he asks, moving a hand back to your hair, tugging lightly. “What do you need? Just ask.”

Slowly, you lift your head, leaning it back in his grip. “Can you wash my hair for me?” you ask, and Frank is already nodding. “I tried, but my arm—”

Frank lowers his mouth to yours, cutting off your words, the kiss soft and slow and deliberate. You taste just like he remembers, that quick mouth tinged with whiskey and salt. You come to life under his touch, and he feels it, your body reacting in ways he’s admittedly been dreaming about since he woke up alone in that bed. Your mouth slots perfectly against his — it feels right — and Frank’s mind has only one thought: keep her safe, make her feel good.

If your asshole partner tries anything while he’s with you, the Punisher might need to make an appearance, after all. But in the meantime, Frank’s attention is solely on you, on distracting you, on turning you into a pleasure-soaked mess.

You melt further into him as he washes your hair, massaging your scalp under his fingers, dipping you back slightly with a tight grip on your waist and pushing the suds away, the pads of his fingers pressed to your ribs. Your eyes fall shut, lashes plastered to your cheeks, and once the water runs clear, the soap all swirling down the drain, he leans in to close his mouth around your pulse. Your arms tighten around his neck, and he turns you from the spray again, pulls you upright and pushes until your back hits the tiles.

He drags his mouth up to your cheek, kissing it once, moving his head and nipping your earlobe. You make the tiniest noise, this mewling little whimper that goes straight to his cock, a groan slipping between his lips as your legs part around his knee, one thigh sliding up the outside of his. Frank curls a hand around it, squeezing once as he hitches your leg over his hip. “Lemme take care of you, babydoll,” he whispers, mouth dragging along your jaw. “Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me,” a soft kiss to your parted lips, earning him another tiny whine, “you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.”

Your eyes flash open, bright sparks in them now. There she is. “I missed you, Castle.”

“You missed me,” he starts, reaching for your wrist, tugging your hand between your bodies, “or you missed this?” 

The words are said against your lips, which part as your fingers curl around his hard cock, sighing with satisfaction when it twitches in your grip. “Hmm,” you hum, tongue peeking between your lips to swipe across his lower one. You give him a quick squeeze, and Frank slams his other hand into the tile, palm smacking the ceramic. “Both.”

His forehead presses to yours, nose pushed into your cheek, and you do it again, fingers tight around him, your body heat and the warmth of the water almost overwhelming. You start to slither down the wall, your leg slipping out of his grip, and Frank can’t find it in him to stop you, no matter how good he wants to make you feel.

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” you say, your voice a whisper above the sound of the shower, “every night.” You grip his hips again, nails digging in enough to leave little marks on his skin, leaning forward to drag your tongue over his hip bone. “About this, about your body. What you feel like, what you sound like.” He braces both hands on the tile, looking down at you knelt before him, sucking in a hard breath when you tilt your head back and freeze him in place with those big, shiny eyes.

He’s achingly hard now, and his hands curl into fists when your mouth drops open and your tongue peeks out, flattening along the underside of him, body arching with the movement. Your chest presses against his thighs, and Frank chokes on a breath, hands curling into fists on the wall. “Fuckin’ tease,” he grits, and you grin, leaning up slightly, drawing your tongue back into your mouth and pressing your lips to his tip, featherlight kisses that turn his blood to flame.

“You never said no teasing,” you quip, and Frank grins. There she is. There’s his Angel, that smart mouth, that somehow familiar light in your eyes peering back up at him. “Just living out my dreams, baby. Can’t fault me for that.” Another drag of your tongue, and Frank drops a hand to your hair, twining his fingers through the wet strands.

Your eyes stay glued to his as you open your mouth and take him all the way, tip hitting the back of your throat with ease. He groans, hips twitching forward, but your eyes don’t waver, nails digging in deeper. You’re just as good as he remembers, just as talented, moaning around his cock and staring up at him. He tightens his grip on your hair, curling his wrist as you bob your head, nose scraping the hair at his base. Then you pull back, one hand moving to grip his cock while your mouth closes around his tip, sucking hard enough that his eyes roll back.

“Tha’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he groans out, body starting to stutter, vision blurring at the edges as the pleasure makes a home at the base of his spine. “You looks so good with your mouth full of my cock, y’know that?” He adjusts his grip on your hair, petting a hand across your scalp. “Pretty fuckin’ thing, on her knees for me.” You just keep going, mouth sliding down to meet your fingers, one hand moving around his hip to grab his ass, squeezing his cheek. He moves his other hand from the tile, holding your head between his hands, mussing your hair over your head, his jaw dropping open as the pleasure flares like kerosene on kindling. He could get lost in this, he knows; he’s already getting lost in you.

“Fuck, Angel, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, body stuttering forward into your hot mouth. Your gaze still doesn’t waver, locked on his face, scanning his features as he cums harder than he has since that night in New York, his own fist and the memory of you no match for the real thing. It’s blinding, his head tipping against the shower wall, and he sinks into the orgasm, the feeling of it snaking up his back and spreading through his limbs and setting his nerves on fire. God, you are so fucking good.

You swallow him down, taking him deeper again, letting him paint your throat with his pleasure, groaning out sweetheart and Angel until the feeling returns to his limbs and his knees don’t feel like jell-o. He hisses when you pull off him with a quiet pop, his hands sliding out of your hair to grab your forearms, hauling you back up against him, pressing you into the tile once more. He grunts when you lick your lips, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and then sucking the pad clean.

He takes your chin in his hand, like he had in New York, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “I was gonna take care of you, babydoll,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth over yours. “Kinda rude, beating me to the punch like that, don’t you think?”

“Sorry,” you murmur back, nipping at his mouth, draping your arms over his shoulders again. “But the night’s not over yet.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Frank grumbles, and reaches over to turn the shower off. You gasp when he sweeps an arm behind your knees, lifts you up, and steps out of the stall with you in his arms. He sets you carefully on the ground, reaching for the fluffy towels hanging on the wall, wrapping you in one. You reach for a second, hastily drying your hair while Frank wraps a towel around his waist, tucking it in at his hip. You go to hang your second towel on the hook, and Frank grabs you again, carrying you out of the bedroom and into the main part of the hotel room.

You look so small as he sets you on the edge of the bed, wrapped in that big towel, hair curling about your face, and you stare up at him, like you had in the shower, that mischievous glint still in your eyes.

He plans to keep it there.

“I dreamt about you too, y’know,” he admits as he tugs at the corner of the towel, pushing it down your arm until your shoulder is exposed, and he leans in to kiss the scar that’s remained, the evidence of his stitch work after he pulled that shard of glass out of you. “Never should have left New York, sweetheart.”

“I’m definitely starting to believe that,” you reply, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your throat, releasing the towel so it pools around your waist. “But you know I couldn’t stay.”

“I know,” he says, and he reaches for the towel again, pulling it open, reaching a hand between your knees. “Y’know, I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.” Moving his mouth to your throat, he pulls your knees wide, fingers sliding up the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches, legs twitching wider to accommodate him. “You made the prettiest noises, Angel. Got me hard just thinking about ‘em, those sounds.” He drags two fingers through your folds, sighing heavily into your skin when he finds how wet you are.

Frank sinks to his knees in front of the bed, his own towel falling to the ground as he goes, a cushion between him and the hard floor. You whine at the loss of his mouth on your skin, but a tiny gasp falls out when he hitches your legs over his shoulders, pulling you to the very edge of the mattress. You’re absolutely dripping, glistening in the low light coming from the bedside lamp, and Frank lowers his mouth, licks a stripe up the very core of you, moaning into your pussy at the taste. He’s been dreaming about that too.

“Fuck, Frank,” you groan, hands finding their way to his hair. “God, you’re so good.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers against your thigh, eyes flicking up to you as you stare back at him. “Use your words. I wanna hear you, yeah? Wanna know how good I make you feel.”

You nod almost violently, your whole torso shaking with the movement, and you moan his name again, head tipping back on your shoulders. He grins against you, licking again, pulling your thighs tighter around his ears as he delves into you. Your muscles go taut in his hands, warmth and wetness flooding his tongue as he sucks at your clit, gently scrapes his teeth against your pussy, prods his tongue into your sopping hole.

Your noises don’t stop, those tiny whimpers like you’d made in the shower interspersed between his name moaned lowly and god, Frank, fuck, right there, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your knees lock around his head, keeping him trapped, and Frank growls, releasing your legs to wrap one hand around his again achingly hard cock, the other sliding to the curve of your ass, where he pinches your flesh once before moving to your pussy, two fingers sliding into you with ease.

Back arching off the bed, you make the most delicious noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Oh my fucking god,” you curse, hands locked in his hair still, “you make me feel so fucking good!” Your voice climbs at the end as he curls his fingers, thrusting them deep as he closes his mouth around your clit. He strokes himself, moaning into you. He can feel it, the way you’re getting tighter and tighter, thighs trembling around his ears, your body curling forward, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, over and over.

Still thrusting his fingers, he wrenches his head back, tilting his face up to yours, releasing his cock to curl his hand around your throat. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he asks, kissing you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You take it gladly, hands scraping his back, nails leaving thick tracks he knows he’ll feel later. “Huh? You gonna be a good girl?”

Nodding dumbly, your mouth falls from his, lips making a perfect o as he curls his knuckles against that place he knows makes you see stars.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Words.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you babble, still nodding, throat stuttering in his grip. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard, Frank, I—”

“Good girl,” he says, and lowers his mouth again, still gripping your neck. It doesn’t take much more, one curl of his fingers and a soft suck at your clit, and your whole body seizes in his grip, chest heaving with each breath. He releases your throat, reaches down to grip himself again. He can’t stop, groaning when your orgasm coats his tongue, the taste making his eyes roll back, that heat in his spine taking up residence once more.

He’s lost in you.

You take everything he gives, tongue caressing you over and over until you’re cumming again, no words this time, just your open mouth falling against the top of his head, fingers locked in his hair, pulling hard. You must see what he’s doing, jerking his cock with every pulse that rattles through you, because once you catch your breath, you start to speak.

“You make me feel so fucking good, baby,” you whisper, your voice low. “You like the way I taste, huh? This pussy’s just for you, you know that?” You tug on his hair until he lifts his head, fingers still crooked inside you, making you gasp when he presses against your walls. “You gonna make yourself cum, Frank? Huh?” Your mouth glances off his temple, body going tight again as he moves his fingers again. He can feel it, and he tilts his face up, cheek pressed to yours.

“I want you to cum again, Angel,” he murmurs. “I want you to cum with me.”

You nod, skin scraping his stubble. “Yes, baby,” you reply, and one hand moves to cup his cheek, eyes meeting his. “Please.”

It’s the pleading in your voice that gets him, that pleasure-soaked tone reaching his ears. He curls his fingers again, his own jaw dropping as wetness covers your thighs and his forearm, your mouth open against his forehead as he keeps moving within you, keeps dragging his own hand along his cock, groaning loudly as his cock starts to pulse, cum coating his hand.

It’s quiet for a moment, as you both come down, nothing but the sound of you both catching your breath and the soft noise of his lips meeting yours, mouths seeking out each other. He kisses you slowly, languidly, pulling back only to kiss from one cheek to the other and back again, peppering your jaw, pushing his face into your throat again.

You whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, and it slides into a satisfied hum when he pushes them between his lips, sucking the taste of you from his knuckles, sighing at the taste. How do you taste so damn good?

He nearly topples over when you reach for his other wrist, fingers now lax around his softening cock, and you pull his hand to your mouth. He just watches, awestruck, muscles tightening as you clean his cum from his hand, tongue laving over his fingers, cleaning every last drop. “Sweetheart,” he groans, still licking your taste from his other hand, sucking at the meat of his palm. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, you know that?”

You just grin around the two fingers in your mouth and Frank groans, moving onto the bed with you.

+

The phone is ringing.

Your eyes shoot open, taking in the mess of your hotel room. The towels and clothes strewn across the floor, the slit of light breaking through the curtains that don’t quite close properly.

The large, scarred arm wrapped around your chest, calloused palm gripping your breast.

Frank.

Your body is aching from last night’s…exertions, and the burn is delicious as you stretch your arms over your head, arching your back and pushing your ass into his very prominent morning wood. He grumbles something unintelligible, squeezing your breast and burying his face in the pillow. You drag your palm along his forearm, feeling every ridge of muscle and scar that marks his skin.

Shit. The phone is ringing.

It’s not your burner — you’re pretty sure that’s still in your coat pocket — but the hotel phone, the red light on the base blinking brightly as you reach for the receiver. You roll back as you hold the thing to your ear, and Frank adjusts, moving himself onto your chest, planting his ear at your sternum. You can’t stop yourself from diving a hand into his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp. It makes him hum.

“Hello?”

“Just for the record,” a familiar voice says by way of hello, “I don’t want you dead, okay? This is a shitty business we’re in, okay, and there are rules for a reason.”

“Weasel?” you ask in disbelief. “How’d you get this number?”

“Does that really matter?” he throws back, and you shrug. Man’s got a point. “I don’t want you dead, all right, and when that sleaze of an ex-partner of yours showed up, asking for your card, I couldn’t say no, okay? I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Fucking stupid fucking dumb ass rules, okay?”

“I get it, Weas,” you say, almost laughing. “You don’t want me dead. I knew that already. Why are you calling, then?”

“I have a lead,” he says, faster than you’d ever heard the bartender speak before, “on the guy who ordered your hit.”

You sit bolt upright, jostling Frank from your chest, and he grumbles loudly, but you throw up a hand, pressing it to his bare chest. “Where?”

“There’s a gala at Willis Tower tonight,” Weasel continues. “Word is, he’s an investor of some sort, all dirty money and bullshit like that, but he likes to pretend he’s legit. He’s gonna be there.”

You’re nearly shaking, and Frank’s looking at you like you’ve got three heads. “You don’t have a name, do you?”

“No,” Weasel admits, and you can hear the letdown in his voice, “but I do know that wherever he goes, he’s got these two Russian thugs as bodyguards. Bald guys, crazy tattoos of bears on the backs of their heads.”

“Bears?” you repeat. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I didn’t fucking tattoo the freaks, okay? I’m just relaying the information. You find those two, you find your guy. Take him down, and get the hell out of dodge, all right?”

You grin. “I owe you one, Weas.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he shoots back. “Just don’t get yourself killed, okay? Like I said, I don’t want you dead, Angel.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Good, now fuck off.”

“You called me!”

And the line goes dead.

Frank’s still sprawled on the bed, head pressed into the mattress, and when you hang up the phone, he rolls onto you, hands covering your side, dragging his tongue up your spine. “We got a lead?” he asks, making you shiver as he moves his mouth down your back, pushing the blanket back so he can bite your ass.

You reach back, swatting at his head, earning yourself another bite. It feels good. “We do,” you reply, pulling at his ear, “and you’re gonna need a suit.”

+

Frank’s always known how to clean up okay. He knows he can, can pull off the bow tie and the jacket and the whole nine yards. He can’t even remember the last time he wore a suit; maybe senior prom? After that, it was dress blues or bust, medals on his chest and a hat tucked under his arm.

But the suit, he can pull it off. And judging by the way your eyes had gone dark and raked up and down his body in the dressing room, you think so too.

He’s been perched on the edge of the bed for almost an hour now, having gotten ready in about fifteen minutes, letting you muss with his hair until you were satisfied and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready yourself. He paced the floor for a while, even picked up the clothes and towels and takeout containers littering the ground, cleaning up best he could and retrieving the handgun from his bag to tuck into his waistband. Just in case.

You’d done a bit more digging on what the gala was for, doctored invitations for you both and printed them off at the public library after you’d bought his suit. He’d tried to follow you into the boutique where you bought your dress, but you’d shooed him off to the barbershop across the street instead, pushing a twenty into his hand with a grin.

There hasn’t been much talking since this morning. Not that there was much last night either, the passion having spoken for itself, but he can tell that you’re antsy.

“There’s a good chance he’ll be there tonight,” you’d told him when you returned to the hotel, outfits in hand. “If he tries anything, I—”

“If he puts a finger on you, I’m putting him down,” he’d told you. “Simple as that.”

There’d been a flash of something nameless in your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking, but you said nothing.

The bathroom door creaks open and Frank shoots to his feet, adjusting his cuff links — he still can’t believe you made him get cuff links — for the millionth time. He sucks in a breath, lifts his head, and you’re…gorgeous.

It’s not a shock, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s like someone’s punched him in the gut. You look…

You look like an angel.

Lips painted a deep red, eyes lined black, shimmer catching the light along your cheekbones and collar, the tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow. Your hair piled on your head in artful curls, a strand curling at the back of your neck and around your temple.

And the dress? He’s got no words for that either. It looks like stars, black velvet dotted with silver, tight around your torso and flaring at your hips. Thin straps at your shoulders, the bodice dipping just deep enough to make his throat go dry, and when you take a step forward, he sees the high slit that bares your leg to your thigh, the strappy heels at your feet.

He’d fuck your brains out if you didn’t have to go like right now.

“So?” you prompt, reaching down to adjust the strap around your ankle. It shows him more of your leg, and Frank can feel his pants tighten. He had you completely naked in bed earlier, but this is just as sexy, if not more so. “How do I look?”

Is that even a fucking question? He realizes he’s just been staring, open-mouthed like a fish, gaping at you. “You…you look good, Angel.”

Your painted mouth quirks, eyes sparkling, and you turn. “Zip me up?”

Frank nods, closing the distance between you, gaze zeroing in on the open zipper at your back, the bare notches of your spine. He pinches the zipper, dragging it up slowly, and as he does, he leans in, inhaling the sweet scent of perfume on your skin.

There’s a tiny pair of angel wings tattooed on the back of your neck. He never noticed. “This is new,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over it. Before you answer, he leans in and presses a kiss to it, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s cute.”

“Well, you know,” you say quickly, slinking out of his grip. “New city, fresh start, that’s what girls do, right? Get stupid tattoos and run from their murderous ex-boyfriends. Sounds like a romcom.”

Frank scoffs, fiddling with his cuffs again. He can feel himself blushing, the scent of your perfume going straight to his head. “I’d watch it.”

He can feel you eyeing him, crossing to the mirror to inspect your makeup a little closer. “Y’know,” you say, meeting his gaze through your reflection, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked me, Castle.”

“Fuck,” he replies, rolling his eyes. So this is how you’re gonna play this. “Trekking across three states wasn’t enough of a clue for you?” He comes to stand behind you, hand reaching out to rest on your hip, palm sliding on the material. “I’m here for you, Angel. I said you’re safe with me and I meant it.”

Slowly, you turn under his hand, fingers knotted in front of you, lips softly parted.

“If this guy, this ex of yours, if he shows his face tonight, if he tries to hurt you,” he says, shaking his head, unable to take his eyes off your mouth. “If anyone tries to lay a finger on you, I…” He trails off, reaching up and pinching your chin in his other hand. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, do you understand that?”

You’re just staring at him, eyes wide and shiny, but Frank needs to hear it.

“Tell me, Angel,” he says, “do you understand that?”

You nod, head bobbing in his grip, a whispered yes meeting his ears.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you.

He’s careful, that much is true, careful not to smudge your makeup too much, though he knows your mouth is a write-off now. Frank wants nothing more than to plunge his hands in your hair again, to tug and pull until you’re squirming beneath him, letting him have his way with you again. He settles for you waist, other hand joining the one already on your hip, and he squeezes lightly, nudges his nose along yours before he kisses you bottom lip, then the top, bottom again, top again. Over and over, until it’s imprinted in his brain, muscle memory. 

That little mewling sound of yours reaches his ears, and he can feel his trousers tighten. Your nails drag light along his scalp, palm grazing the freshly trimmed hair at the back of his head, and he sighs, sinking into your touch.

And all too soon, you’re pulling away. You’re blushing, eyes a little watery, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to pull away completely, disappear into the bathroom again, but your hand lifts, catching his chin, rubbing lipstick from his mouth. Your gaze is glued to his jaw as you rub, perfectly filled brows pulling down on your forehead. There’s something in those eyes, something he doesn’t have a name for. Once the lipstick is gone, you turn towards the bathroom, reaching for your small purse on the counter and pulling out the tube. “I have to fix my makeup now, you jerk,” you throw over your shoulder, but the quip is halfhearted, and that unnamed emotion spreads through your features before you turn back to the mirror and reapply, lips parting softly.

+

There’s not nearly enough booze at this party.

You’re tucked in the corner of the room, a half-filled flute of champagne in your hand. It’s watered down, you think, especially since you’re on your third glass of the evening without so much as a slight buzz in the back of your brain.

Frank’s gone for the harder stuff, a tumbler of whiskey gripped in his big hand since you walked through the double doors. There’d been no issue with your ‘invitation’, not so much as a second glance before you were ushered into the ballroom. It’s fancy, no question, all high glass ceilings and crystal chandeliers, a damn orchestra playing quietly in the corner and waiters in tuxedos passing out caviar and what you think is a fig wrapped in cheese.

Nearly three hours in, however, and still no sign of your Russian bears.

You’ve managed to avoid conversation for most of the evening, ignoring people past a quick hello or an unenthusiastic wow, I love your dress! And Frank’s been stoic as anything, no more than half a foot from your shadow at any given moment. You’d called him on it earlier in the evening, and he’d just shaken his head, the tips of his ears turning red, and mumbled, “I don’t do parties, sweetheart, and you’re…distracting.”

You reached out and pinched his earlobe between your fingers, bumping your hip against his. You liked that you made him blush, that you hadn’t so much as moved all night without his eyes following you. You liked those dark eyes, the way he squinted a little when he concentrated, even more so when he laughed. You liked the way his ears stuck out, made slightly more noticeable by his haircut, and that big nose that suited his face so perfectly. You liked the cadence of his voice, the way he sighed a little after he said your name, how the tone would grow gravelly and low when you teased him.

You liked Frank Castle.

Fuck.

It was that realization that had you reaching for a second glass — and the third — and it’s what has you pouring the rest down your throat before plucking Frank’s glass out of his hand and tossing it back as well.

He narrows his eyes at you, licks his lips, and shakes his head once before he leans in, pushing his face into the curve of your jaw and nipping at your skin. As his teeth sink in, there double doors push open, a man in a suit stepping through, and your breath hitches, hand reaching up to grip the back of Frank’s neck, holding him against you. He keeps at it, and it’s a little more than a love bite, joined by his hand snaking from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard before he pulls away. “You want another?”

You nod, feeling your heart crawl up your throat and make a home there, trying to offer him a genuine grin. But he notices — of course he notices — and his hand returns to your hip, squeezing lightly.

“What, sweetheart?” he whispers, and you can see the darkness seeping into his features. Maybe the Punisher has come to Chicago after all. “Russians?”

You pull your eyes away from the door long enough to meet his, reaching up to push two fingers under his chin, leaning forward to kiss him once. “Nothing. I want Macallan, if they have it,” you whisper to him, lips quirking. “Two fingers.”

“Two?” he replies, mischievous smirk, tilting his head to the side. “That’s really all it takes, huh, Angel?”

Glaring at him, you shove at his shoulder. “Go, you menace, before I drag you out of here by the collar.”

The smirk widens to a grin. “You should try it, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning in to kiss your cheek before he pulls away completely, turning towards the bar, “I might like it.”

You roll your eyes at his back, watching the way he scans the ballroom before crossing to the bar on the other side of the room. He does look stupidly good in that suit, and you allow yourself more than an eyeful of his ass as he disappears through the crowds of people.

But then your attention prickles at something else, a shadow at your shoulder, and the wound on your arm, carefully covered by makeup, barks in response.

“Your bodyguard’s handsome,” Max whispers, his mouth suddenly right at your ear. It takes everything in you not to flinch, or reach for the knife holstered at your thigh beneath your dress. You sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, bunching your hands in your dress. “Don’t worry yourself, Angel. You really think I’d try and take you out right here, right now? Make a scene? You don’t know me at all.” You feel his nose brush against your hair. “Besides, I know your boyfriend isn’t exactly shy about making a scene, and I’m not about to have my brains smeared across the dance floor.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” is all you can manage to spit back, and Max just laughs. Fucking asshole.

He presses his knuckle against your spine, drags slowly up, and you freeze, goosebumps rising on your skin. “Coulda fooled me,” he whispers. “You might need to get your eyes checked, baby, cuz the way he’s looking at you? I’ve seen that look before.” Max’s hand reaches the top of your neck, and you feel his thumb press into the very top of your spine, right where the wings are tattooed. “I used to look at you like that.”

Finally finding yourself, you whirl, stepping out of his grip and turning to face him. “Yeah, and then you tried to sell me like a piece of meat.” He tries to reach for you but you bat his hand away, anger flaring in your gut. “Looking at me doesn’t exactly make up for that.”

His handsome face goes feral, jaw going tight as he speaks through his teeth. You’ve seen that look before, quietly curse the girl that look used to turn you into. “I never would have let anything happen to you, you know that.”

“Says the man holding the gold card with my name on it.” You step closer, leaning up on your heels, getting in his face. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d get the fuck out of this city and leave me alone.”

Max just grins. “And if you knew what was good for you, Angel, you’d come with me.” When your gaze falters, courage snapping in half at his words, he laughs. “I’ve got snipers in the next building, all eyes on your boy over there.”

Your jaw clenches, and Max grips your forearm. You try to wrench out of your grip, but your eyes find Frank leaned against the bar, a smile on his face, talking animatedly with the bartender. “Thought you didn’t want to make a scene.”

“I don’t,” he continues, brows raising. “I just want you to take a little walk with me upstairs. For old time’s sake, hmm? You come with me, nobody lays a finger on him. Or puts a bullet in his head.” He lifts the hand not gripping your arm in an iron vice. “Scout’s honour.”

“Fuck your honour, Max,” you spit, baring your teeth. “You don’t have any. What is this about anyway, huh? What do you want from me? You want money, the price on my head? That what this is all about?”

“Maybe,” he grits, staring down his nose as you. You could break it. “Maybe I just want to see firsthand what Frank Castle does when someone plays with his toys.” Your hands curl into fists. “What, Angel, worried he won’t want you anymore when I’m done with you? When I’ve had my way with you again?”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Just put a bullet in my head now if you think I’m ever sleeping with you again.”

His grip tightens and you clench your jaw against the pain. “You come with me now, or Castle dies.”

You lift your chin. “And why should I believe you have snipers, hmm? Give me one good reason.”

“You want a demonstration? Lots of easy targets in here.” He taps his ear, turning his head to the side so you can see the earpiece sitting there.

“Fuck you, Max.”

“That’s the spirit.”

You don’t have a choice. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and you’re the mouse in the corner with a knife strapped to her leg. It’s only a matter of time, now, to see if you actually get to use it.

+

Frank watches from the bar. Watches him put his hands on you, watches him grab your arm and you pull out of his grip. Good girl. He watches the words exchanged, his eyesight not good enough to read lips at this distance, but the sinking look on your face is enough of a clue.

You’d given him the name, earlier in the day. Not like it mattered. Not like he really needed to know the fucker’s name. It wasn’t gonna change the outcome. But he’d watched it from his spot at the bar, watched the fear sink into your features like he’d seen it when he’d first arrived, found you crying in the shower, injured and scared.

The handgun is a welcome weight at the small of his back, and he nods to the bartender as your drinks are slid across the bar, pushing a ten dollar bill across the bar top. He downs his own drink in one gulp, snatches yours, and turns on his heel.

The fact that you’re not trying to run from Max is what has Frank worried. Something’s up, something decidedly not good, and the feeling only doubles when he sees you being dragged from the ballroom, throwing a look over your shoulder in his direction, eyes searching for him in the sea of faces.

Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me, you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.

It’s a good a promise as any, and he plans to keep it.

He skids through the door just as Max’s palm connects with your cheek, slapping you so hard you topple sideways, knees and palms hitting the marble floor, and Frank sees a drop of blood fall from your mouth. But before he can do anything more, Max has you hauled up over his shoulder, sprinting down the hallway and disappearing around a corner.

Frank takes off, stupid dress shoes skidding on the tile, handgun sliding easily out of his waistband and into his hand. He sees the flash of your dress as he rounds the corner again, and keeps going, spurred on by that fear in your eyes, and the memory of that unnamed emotion he’d seen back at the hotel. He has to keep you safe. He has to fix it.

There’s more rounding of corners, almost tripping up staircases in these stupid fucking shoes, and he loses you. He goes left when he should have gone right, ends up having to retrace his steps twice, cursing inwardly at his own mistakes, doubling back and darting up another stairwell. At least he knows you’re heading up.

He hears a door slam as he steps onto another floor, what looks like an office, and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting glass, a crackling thump that he makes him see red. Max isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, and he’s already enough of a fucking idiot for thinking Frank wouldn’t have his head for touching you. Big fucking mistake. Huge.

Rage tinging his vision, Frank barrels towards the source of the sound, your crumpled figure on the floor coming into view as he sprints for the door. It cracks open easily when he shoves his shoulder into it, lifting his gun with both hands and levelling it with the fucker’s head.

You’re curled on the floor, blood on your mouth and your cheek split open. Spitting red onto the carpet, you bare your teeth, and Frank’s gun nearly clatters to the floor when he sees the knife curled in your grip, blade smeared with crimson.

Max stumbles back against the large table in the centre of the room, clutching his throat, all gargling noises and wide eyes. His white dress shirt is a bloody mess, red spraying from the wound on his neck. Frank only blinks, lifts the gun, and puts a bullet between his eyes. The shot echoes through the empty floor. Like he said, big fucking mistake.

He drops the gun on the table, immediately on his knees and trying to help you, wiping the blood from your lips and inspecting your cheek. Not deep enough to need a stitch, but the fucker must have decked you hard. And when he glances up, Frank can see the glass wall has splintered, he assumes from you being thrown against it, and your eyes are a little foggy when you blink up at him, almost dazed. Your dress is torn, the slit riding higher on your leg, and Frank almost loses it when he sees red marks on your thigh, deep enough to draw blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks instantly, pulling his coat off and draping it around your shoulders. You’re shivering, blood-smeared teeth chattering as you stare up at him. “Did he touch you? What happened?” He glances over his shoulder, at Max’s body now slumped on the table. “I swear to fucking, God, Angel…”

You take his chin in your hand, nails digging in, pulling his gaze to yours. “I wanna go home, Frank.”

“Okay, baby girl,” he says lowly, and reaches down to pull the knife from your grip, sliding it into his pocket. He fumbles for the gun, sliding it back into the waistband, cursing the burn as it slips against his skin, but he grits his teeth against the pain. He turns back to you and collects you carefully into his arms, hauling you up, the fabric of your dress dragging against the floor as he goes. “I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to your temple when you sag against him. “Let’s go home.”

+

You wake up alone.

Back in the hotel room, your head buzzing with a combination of a champagne hangover and the impact of Max slamming you into the glass. Your mouth tastes terrible, and you blink heavy eyes open, finding your dress a pile of fabric on the floor, Frank’s suit half-laid out on the chair across from you.

Memories swim through your murky mind. Max’s hand on your thigh, clawing into your skin. He pulled the knife out, danced it under your chin, pushed the tip of it into the middle of your bottom lip. He told you how he planned to kill you, how he was waiting for Frank to show, so he could make him watch. So he could break the already broken man, the man who had already lost too much.

He hadn’t been expecting your knee between his legs, or the ease with which you’d pulled your knife from his grip and plunged it into his throat.

And then Frank was there, your knight in shining armour, pulling the trigger like it was the easiest thing in the world. Gathering you into his big, strong arms and whisking you away into the night, taking you home, wherever home happened to be.

You were starting to worry that home might look like him.

He’d brought you back to the room, cleaned the blood from your skin, tended to your wounds. Kissed you with such care and softness that it brought tears to your eyes, left your body feeling weightless, left your heart aching in your chest with the need to make him feel the same.

You’d whispered into the dark, when he laid down with you, begged him to touch you, to feel him inside you, and he’d obliged, moving so slowly against you, dragging the pleasure from your exhausted form so purposefully that the ache only grew deeper.

You know how it’d go down, if another one like Max came along, if the man who’d put out the hit on you — the man who you still knew almost nothing about — sent someone else after you, or if someone came after Frank. 

If Frank stuck around, if you kept yourself glued to his side like you so desperately wanted to be, it wouldn’t end well. You’d lose him, he’d lose you; either way, the fairytale ending didn’t exist, and you’d done enough research on the Punisher’s history during your time apart to know just how devastating his past was. You’d both end up dragged through hell, him for a second time, and you couldn’t have that on your head.

Pushing the blankets off and swinging your legs over the side of the mattress, you see a hastily scrawled note on the nightstand, in what you assume to be Frank’s surprisingly legible handwriting. You’d assumed it would be chicken scratch, but you’re wildly incorrect.

Went for coffee. Didn’t wanna wake ya. Take an Advil and clean your cheek. xoxo F

You can’t drag him through hell again. Not after everything he’s been through.

So, walking slowly toward where his bag sits on the counter, you fish out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before, inhaling the manly scent of him. Pulling it over your head, your decision is made.

You have to remove yourself from the equation. To spare you both.

+

The room’s empty, when he walks in, coffees balanced in his hand. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel like a knife in the gut.

Your coat is there, folded neatly on the now-made bed, beside his packed bag. Bathroom’s empty, your makeup and toothbrush and your kit, all gone. No sign of you, just like the morning after the first time, when he’d woken up alone. But it feels different this time, more purposeful.

You were still asleep when he’d left initially, your face shoved in the pillow, brows pinched with a dream, but they’d softened when he leaned down to kiss you. He swore you murmured his name in your sleep.

Frank runs his fingers over the fur collar of your coat, fishes the burner you’d left him in New York out of his pocket, hits the speed dial.

The number you have dialled is not currently available. Please try again later.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the word not nearly heavy enough for the feeling in his gut. He sniffs hard, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

There’s no note this time, no explanation. Just an empty room, a fur-lined coat, and him.

—————

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[undermattsun-archive]

taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii​ + @sugardaddykenma​ for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki​ for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on. 

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest. 

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course. 

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost. 

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone. 

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes. 

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward. 

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort. 

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him. 

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck. 

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door.  You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat. 

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him. 

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine. 

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you. 

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit. 

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.” 

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air. 

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you. 

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?” 

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin. 

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you. 

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.” 

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt. 

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.” 

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man. 

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

#miki writes #tw drugs #tw dubcon #tw exhibitionism #tw dubcon exhibitionism #tw noncon exhibitionism #tw noncon #tw degradation #tw humiliation #tw injury #tw blood #thank u for yelling at me pommeth #like forreal #i've been big struggling w writing this #and keeping motivation #skdjfhkj i considered just #dashing this completely #woof #also we as a collective need to wanna fuck taichi more #like forreal he's so fucking pretty #and just #doesn't care about shit #also he's a sexie bartender???? #sir?????? #skate rat hq

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 43: Truth or Dare

“Truth or Dare, or Drink," Ron shouted as he threw himself down on the sofa next to Potter.

Honestly, Draco could scarcely believe he was here. Sitting in Potter's house sipping a bottle of beer (thank Circe his mother couldn't see him). It had been a moment of weakness, Ron's arm around his shoulders as he told him he'd done a brilliant job on the case today, and invited him back to his house for a drink with all of the other first year aurors.

It would be fine. No one knew about his crush on Potter and he'd never pick truth so no one had to know.

Hw watched with bemused confusion as Weasley lined up shot glasses on the coffee table.

"If you want out of the truth or dare you can take a shot," Potter said just behind him, his breath ghosting over Draco's ear and sending a shiver up his spine. "I learned the hard way not to say truth," he added as Draco turned to look at him. "They are ruthless and will want to know your darkest secrets."

"Not just darkest," Finnegan called, "I'll settle for dirtiest most of the time."

Dean shoved him, "You're disgusting. I can't believe that I am dating your sorry arse," he added, but a laugh as Finnegan tugged him in to plant a kiss on his cheek rather ruined the effect.

"Alright, settle down, you lot," Ron called. "Here is the bowl that my brilliant girlfriend charmed to keep everything fair," he said, setting the bowl behind the row of shots, "And here are everyone's names," he added, dumping in the scraps of parchment.

"Seamus, you should do the honors of starting us off since you were the last to go last time," Potter called.

Finnegan gave a little bow and stepped up to the bowl, "Harry," he said, with a wicked little grin.

"This is what I get for trying to be kind," Potter laughed. "I will take a dare, obviously."

"Kiss Malfoy," he said without missing a beat.

Draco promptly choked on his beer and very nearly spit it out. "You don't do things by half, do you?" he managed.

Potter, who had ended up sitting next to him, turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his lips soft and dry. Draco stopped himself from reaching up and letting his fingers brush over that spot on his cheek, but only just.

"Boo!" Seamus called. "That wasn't a real kiss."

The other man grinned widely at Finnegan, "You didn't say it had to be a real kiss. You've got to be more specific," he added before taking a sip of his beer. And Draco was almost impressed by his cunning.

Almost.

He watched as names were drawn and challenges were offered, so far no one had chosen to take a shot. Jensen pulled Draco's name, he grinned, "I dare you to kiss Harry. On the lips."

Draco looked over a Potter, who just smiled warmly at him, "Come on," he said. "I won't bite." Then the corner of his mouth tipped up putting that dimple that made Draco's knees feel like jelly on prominent display, "Unless you're into that."

The room erupted in cheers and catcalls and Draco rolled his eyes, leaning in to press a quick peck to Potters full, soft lips.

Potter's lips caught and held his for a moment before Draco drew back. He could feel his cheeks and neck flushing as the room demanded a 'real' kiss.

"Leave him alone," Potter called, waving them off, "It's his first night here. Don't hassle him."

The game continued and Draco watched as other people ended up kissing, as shirts got stripped out of, and as Dean took a shot rather than kiss Ron.

Potter got called next and Dean seemed to take pity on him, "Shirt off, Harry."

He laughed and stood so he'd have enough room to take it off. As he pulled the worn, grey fabric over his head, Draco was treated to the view of his back and shoulder muscles flexing. Salazar, Potter was beautiful, his dark skin turned bronze in the light of the fire, broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist.

He snapped his gaze away before he could get any more invested in looking at the other man.

Potter drew Allen's name, Allen drew Finnegan, and then Finnegan drew Draco. His face lit up, "Excellent. Give Harry a proper kiss," he said.

Swallowing down the unexpected excitement that his partially-inebriated mind insisted was warranted, Draco turned to Potter. The other man reached over and cupped Draco's cheek in his palm, searching his eyes for a moment before leaning in kissing him.

His mouth moved slowly, sinuously over Draco's for a long moment, and fingers slid back into Draco's hair as he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, scraping his teeth over it. Draco held back a whimper, but only just, as Potter pulled back with one last flicker of tongue.

Someone whistled and Potter laughed, Draco's eyes flew open and he put his beer to his lips once more just to have something to do.

Draco's name got drawn again two names later, "Sit in Harry's lap," Ron dared, taking his vengeance on Potter for his earlier dare.

Potter laughed and sat up a bit straighter to allow Draco enough room.

"For how long?" Draco asked.

"Until the next time one of you gets picked," Ron replied.

Potter gave him a little smile and Draco stood up, and carefully positioned himself on Potter's lap. The other man's hand wrapped around Draco's hip, steadying him, and Draco felt it like a brand through the layers of fabric he was wearing.

He squirmed a bit and Potter chuckled, his breath warm on Draco's neck, "Comfortable?"

"Not especially," Draco said, which was true only because his body seemed to think this was the most ideal position it had ever found itself in.

Potter's thumb brushed back and forth over his hip. It was both oddly soothing and erotic at the same time. He didn't ask him to stop.

The game continued and neither of them got picked for a little while, but then Draco's name got called again.

"Might as well just turn around and kiss Harry again, don't you think?" Will asked.

Draco huffed, "Is that really what all of you are going to keep doing all night."

"Yes," multiple people replied.

He sighed and turned around, straddling Potter's lap and trying not to think about it too much. Bracing his hands on Potter's bare chest, the heat of his body searing Draco's skin, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry's.

Harry sighed and wrapped his hands around Draco's waist, drawing him nearer until their bodies were pressed together. The other man's tongue flicked out along Draco's bottom lip and Draco opened for him, allowing him to curl their tongues together.

After a moment, Draco broke off, his breath coming a bit faster than it ought to, his heart thundering against his ribs. Harry's eyes were on him, taking in every minute detail as his hands trailed slowly up and down Draco's sides; his gaze split Draco open leaving him even more breathless.

"Err, Draco?" Ron said, "You're up mate."

"Right," Draco said, shaking his head and climbing off of Harry's lap to draw a name.

He drew Ron, who drew Dean, who drew Harry.

Dean stared at him contemplatively for a moment and Draco felt uncomfortable on Potter's behalf, in spite of the fact that the other man seemed nonplussed by the whole ordeal. Bloody Griffyndors.

"Kiss Draco somewhere that is not his lips, but is equally intimate."

Murmurs erupted around the room but Harry turned to him, calmly took Draco's hand in his, and turned it over to expose his wrist. His eyes held Draco's as he lowered his lips to his pulse point and caressed the delicate skin there.

Pleasure raced up Draco's spine, sending light bursting through every synapse in his brain. There was no reason that lips touching his wrist should feel that good.

All too soon the other man pulled away and the game continued.

Over the next half an hour, the game started to taper off as people began heading home and it wasn't too long until Draco found himself with only Harry and Ron and the dares turned silly. Shortly after the floo opened and Hermione stepped out. "Ah," she said, surveying the room, "Truth or Dare, I see." She glanced over the three of them, then very abruptly said, "Ronald, I'm exhausted. Time for bed for the two of us, I think."

"Right," Ron said, nodding, "Last one, then." He pulled out a name, "Harry."

Harry stared at him for a long moment then surprised Draco completely by saying, "Truth."

Ron grinned at him, "Tell Draco how you really feel about him," he said as he stood up and clapped Harry on the shoulder before heading off to bed.

Harry was quiet for a long moment, staring ahead into the fire, before he said, "I really like you, Draco."

Draco's breath caught in his chest.

"Like a lot," Harry continued, "It's why they were after the two of us all night," he confessed. "I chose 'truth' with Seamus once and he asked, so here we are."

He couldn't unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, and frankly even if he could have managed it, he had no idea what he would have said.

"And I know," Harry went on without looking at him, "That it's ridiculous to even hope that someone like you could like someone like me-"

"Sorry," he interrupted, snapped out of his confusion by whatever Potter was trying to insinuate. "Someone like you?" he asked. "There is literally no one else like you."

Harry finally looked over at him, "There's no one like you either."

"Harry," he whispered.

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, why was he nervous? Potter had literally already said he liked him. "I like you, too," he said.

"Yeah?"

Nodding, he said, "I thought that would have been abundantly clear after tonight. I think their dares were about both of us, not just you."

"Thank Merlin for that," Harry said as he lunged at Draco, pinning him on his back on the sofa and kissing him quite thoroughly.

Draco threaded his fingers through Harry's hair, tugging him down until the weight of his body pressed him into the couch. Fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt and Draco let out a whimper.

"You feel so good," Harry murmured against his mouth before trailing kisses along Draco's jaw and neck. "Stay tonight," he murmured. "I promise to behave," he added, sitting up slightly, "Just let me hold you and kiss you."

"I'd like that," Draco replied, smiling up at him.

Harry grinned back, "Come on," he said, standing up and tugging Draco up with him. "The best thing about staying over on Fridays is that Ron always make pancakes on Saturday morning."

Draco hummed at that, slipping his fingers through Harry's as the other man started walking toward a bedroom. "I might just have to always stay on Friday nights."

"Or," Harry said as he pushed open the door to his room and gestured toward the bed, "You could just always stay. Period."

"Ask me again in the morning," Draco said with a little smile, "When we haven't been drinking, and I'll say yes."

"Alright," Harry said, folding down the covers and inviting Draco into the bed, "I'll hold you to it."

And when they woke up the next morning, Harry asked him to move in and Draco said yes to always.

---------

Day 42: Sensitive | Day 44: You're Waddling Like A Cute Duck

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #day 43 #truth or dare #thanks for the prompt! #Drarry #drarry drabble #drarry ficlets #my writing #idiots in love

[greensaplinggrace]

.........anyways, talk to me about how after 500 years, mal and darkling still can't say 'i love you' without making it a) sound like a joke, b) sound like a threat OR c) one of them being 'this' close to dying

I love how you send me this ask and then have the gall to ask me if I'm okay in the tags of my (admittedly very chaotic) Malarklina post! Like wtf this is so angsty! I mean it's also some great insight into their characters and their relationships with the word love, specifically in regards to each other. But now you've given me Emotions (tm) about these two idiots and I can't stop thinking about this.

Anyways, Mal says it first.

For weeks he's planned it: the perfect moment, the perfect words. He'll take Aleksander out to a field of blue irises and lay a quilt atop the grass. Then he'll lay Aleksander upon it.

It will be intimate and tender. Like Mal's done with Alina hundreds of times before and Aleksander has done the same in turn, the both of them speaking softly into her ear, bodies pressed so tightly together.

Except this time, the words won't be for Alina.

This time, Mal will take the other man into his arms as they always do at night. He will press kisses into Aleksander's skin, tell him that he's beautiful, that he's special, that he's wicked and kind and tastes of chocolate. And then Mal will tell him - he will. In that perfect, beautiful moment, he'll tell Aleksander he loves him.

The trip is planned for tomorrow afternoon, supplies packed and horses readied. Mal is nervous, palms sweating. Even after hundreds of years his heart still races like a lovestruck teenager when he thinks of them. It is an emotion he'd thought he'd lose as he grew older. One that has instead grown stronger, fiercer, more debilitating than ever.

His mouth tastes of sand and his mind flashes to their long, drawn out history. All of the ups and downs and violent, deadly strikes at each other's weaknesses. He thinks of Aleksander's scars and Alina's hair and the mark of an arrow just a hairs breadth away from his own soft heart - things he should be over by now. But he's not, and Aleksander's not. And they are all, probably, not.

So Mal is nervous and excited and maybe a little bit in love. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and reminds his racing heart of the way Aleksander had brushed his hair from his forehead the other night, fingertips feather light against Mal's skin and expression softened by adoration. He reminds himself of the way Aleksander had tucked his face into Alina's neck and curled around her under the covers, Mal's hand pulled over his side and held tightly to his chest.

Mal doesn't have to remind himself that he loves Aleksander. That one comes like breathing.

All he has to do is say it.

Aleksander is himself, of course, the night before. Not at all nervous. Instead watchful and sharp, slate grey eyes following Mal around the house in dedicated vigil. He's trying Mal's patience, ready to pounce on any piece of information Mal might let slip about his plans - observing and waiting under the likely impression that he appears the predator - but Mal has known this man for centuries and finds himself only amused by the evidence that Aleksander is dreadfully curious.

Mal raises a brow at the other man's impenetrable gaze and reveals nothing. Aleksander goes to bed frustrated that night, and Mal can't say that either he or Alina are unhappy with the development.

The next day, they ride out on a bright, sunny morning. The wind ruffles Aleksander's hair and puts a blush on his cheeks. Mal imagines that he looks much the same, grinning widely over at the other man, heart pounding, as they ride all the way to the meadow.

Then he spreads out the quilt, lays Aleksander upon it, and presses kisses into his skin.

And that is all he can do with his mouth, for the entire afternoon, words dead on his tongue.

He does not say it.

He cannot say it.

They return home later that night pleased and sated, quiet, with the words, as always, left unspoken between them.

---

Afterward, the months pass in a blank, formless blur. Mal tries to focus on other things, like patching the roof of their small cottage and tending to the garden and dedicating inordinate amounts of time to making both Alina and Aleksander flush. He tries very hard not to think about that day, and the night before, and how certain he'd been of his bravery.

He feels like a coward.

And then the riders come, with swords and guns and fire, burning their life to ground in an instant, and suddenly Mal doesn't have the time to feel much of anything anymore. He runs from the house, pulled along by Alina and pulling her in turn, barely dodging the whistle of a bullet, and thanks every Saint he can remember for the sight of Aleksander's dark figure at the treeline.

Zhenya is a beauty of a horse, strong and lean with a coat of pure silken white. Aleksander tugs at her reigns to calm her, seated upon Ilya at her side, and wastes no time in turning them both in the only direction they can flee as Mal pulls himself and Alina onto Zhenya's saddle.

Alina turns with a whip of her hands, brilliant light blinding their pursuers, and Mal follows the blackened trail of shadows that coalesce all around them.

Hoofbeats chase them for miles, the sound of pursuit relentless and daunting. Mal doesn't have his bow; he doesn't have his gun. Alina shivers against him in the cool night air wearing nothing but a thin shift, and Aleksander looms ahead of them dark and dangerous but ever so weary, haunted by weeks of insomnia and nights spent awake.

They are going to die. His partners. The people he loves.

They are not ready for this.

And they aren't ready for the cliff, either - the end of the forest and the sudden break in the earth. Aleksander shouts, Ilya rearing, and Mal only has a moment to even think to pull on Zhenya's reigns before she's bucking, whinnying in terror, and Mal is sent flying through the air.

He hits the ground with a curse, tumbling forward and scrambling desperately at the loose dirt for anything to halt his progress. There's nothing - nothing - and everything goes white.

"Alina," he gasps, mind blank except for the sheer, mind numbing terror that she could already be gone. And when he finally reaches the cliffside and the floor falls out from underneath him, all he can do is feel his heart plummet to his stomach.

He chokes out a yell and clenches his eyes shut, still reaching for anything that could keep him here by Alina's side - by Aleksander's side. Then a hand closes around his wrist, grip hot and hard and painful, and Mal is met quite suddenly with the solid ground again as his face meets the cliffside.

He swings for a second in the air, attempting to find purchase along the rocks with his feet, and looks up to see Aleksander above him. The man is wide-eyed, lips parted, staring down at him as if his entire world is coming to an end, fingers white with the strength of his hold on Mal, and Mal thinks for one bright, clarifying second that oh, this is what true fear looks like.

He wonders blankly if Alina would have seen it on himself not two seconds ago when he'd believed her dead.

"Don't let go," Aleksander tells him - demands of him, the controlling bastard.

He's looking for a promise, Mal realizes. But his voice is shaking, arms unsteady, cheek painted in red. Blood drips down his chin from a wound on his forehead, face pressed against the cool earth and eyelashes fluttering. His grip on the edge of the cliff is weak at best, and Alina's shouting voice is too far away to share some of the weight.

We're going to fall.

"We're going to fall."

Aleksander blinks at him for a second, bleary eyed. Then he swallows, breaths coming out shorter, heavier. Mal's known him long enough to realize when panic is setting in. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Mal tells him, because he is. Because he wants nothing more than to be with these people forever.

Alina, he thinks again, and wishes fervently that she were here.

Aleksander is shaking his head, swallowing roughly, lips forming a pained, desperate "no." But no sound slips out. His grasp slips, fingers loosening, and Mal can see him straining to keep them both in place.

"I love you," Mal breathes out, overcome with the sudden desire to say it again and again every day for the rest of their lives. "I love you. I'm sorry. I love you."

"No!" Aleksander roars furiously, eyes wide and expression stricken, thunder cracking in a blackened sky.

Mal lets go.

Aleksander exhales sharply, face going white as his grip slackens, fingers grasping at nothing but air. "N-no."

And Mal falls.

#shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #malyen oretsev #the darkling #aleksander morozova #mal oretsev #malarklina #malarkling #malina #darklina #alina starkov #alina x darkling x mal #darkmalina #myramblings #mywriting #myworks #asks and answers #mal-zoya #promptfills #kinda #fanfiction

[babbushka]

Another Adventure

Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren 

2.4k; NSFW (Threesome MMF, dom/sub undertones (dom!Kylo, dom!Flip), rough PIV, rough oral sex (M receiving), name-calling, gagging, begging, overstimulation, sloppy seconds/come sharing) 

Available on AO3

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

The evening was going wonderfully so far. Your friends and family were all gathered at the Organa-Solo house, bellies were filled with good food and warm drinks, Matt had played some tunes on the piano that had everyone dancing in the living room, laughter all around. The candles on the menorah are nearly halfway melted, marking the hours that have been passing with joy and love. Flip’s got you on his lap, the both of you tucked up on the couch together. He’s chewing on some gum, because Kylo doesn’t like anyone smoking in his house, and Flip respects that.

You can tell though, that he’s starting to get antsy, starting to get a little irritated just from the lack of nicotine that he’s so used to. You can tell by the way his grip on your body is tightening, one of his hands squeezing at your inner thigh – a simple motion to ground himself in the present.

He doesn’t realize, but that hand on your thigh keeps creeping further and further towards a very indecent place, and it’s been getting you wound up in your own right. You thought you could hold off, thought that you could wait until he brings you back home to beg for it, but his hand squeezes at you again, and it’s the last straw.

“Flip.” You turn to whisper in his ear, biting at your lip as your thighs discreetly try to rub together.

“Hmm?” Flip meets your gaze, totally unaware of your state. It isn’t until he really looks at you that he sees your pupils blown wide and dark with lust, your chest starting to heave from the harshness of your breathing.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next five minutes I think I might cry.” You nip lightly at his earlobe, and his jaw clenches down into a firm line that tells you you’re going to get exactly what you want.

Without preamble, he gives your back a nudge, and you get the hint to stand up and get off his lap. You know Kylo’s house well, you’ve spent so much time there after all, you know exactly where the guest bedroom is upstairs. No one notices as you silently slip away, hands already working at the buttons of your dress as soon as you’re out of the immediate line of sight.

Flip joins you in the guest bedroom only moments later, and you’re glad for his immediacy because you’re not so sure you could’ve waited another minute. His hands are on your face, grasping your cheeks and kissing you deeply, the gum spit out on his way to you.

“Let me see your tits, now.” He orders, and the tone of his voice goes straight to your dripping drooling pussy, soaking through your panties.

A shiver runs up your spine as you undo the front clasp of your bra, letting the cups fall away from your breasts so they’re on proud display through the open buttons of your bodice.

Flip immediately smooths his big palms over them and pinches and squeezes, your nipples so stiff and sensitive as he takes one into your mouth and sucks hard, making you moan.

“Jesus you’re a slut tonight, aren’t you?” Flip pulls away and turns you around, bending you over so you can brace yourself on the mattress. He pushes the skirt of your dress up, and tugs your panties to the side.

He unzips his trousers and tugs out his cock, gives it a couple strokes before rubbing the head of his cock through your sopping wet folds. You whine and press your hips back back back onto his cock, taking him easily, which was no easy feat. The sheets are fresh and well-made, he would hate to rumple them too much, so a quickie will have to do to get you satisfied long enough for him to take you home.

“Look how fuckin’ wet you are ketsl, I don’t even have to finger you for it.” Flip whistles low as he keeps one palm steady on your lower back, your knees pinching in as your cunt swallows him hungrily.

Your shoulders drop and you rest more fully on the mattress, sighing deeply as Flip bottoms out all the way inside you in only two thrusts. Hips squirming just a little to adjust to the girth of him, you can’t help but moan.

“I know, I know Flip please I want to get fucked so bad.” You whine, hands grabbing at the comforter and fisting it in twisting motions, your voice hiccupping around an, “Haven’t I been good all evening?”

“No, you’ve been a brat.” Flip lies, saying it only because that’s what you want to hear, that’s what’ll get you wet – and it works. Your pussy flutters around his cock as he starts to thrust, slow and deep at first, just getting you used to the feeling of the stretch, “You’ve been a very bad girl, ketsl. I shouldn’t give you my cock at all.”

“Please!” You drool into the comforter, thighs shaking, wanting more, wanting him to go faster rougher harder deeper, “Philly please, I – ”

“I know honey-bunny, I’ve got you, I’m right here.” Flip drapes himself over your back and kisses at your neck, sucks and bites on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder, teeth fitting perfectly as his hands grip your hips.

He begins to thrust in earnest then, pushing and pulling his cock in and out, in and out, all the way to the hilt on each shove of his cock against your walls, your pussy spasming and fluttering, so wet and tight and hot and velvety around him. Your eyes roll back into your head and you moan moan moan, muffled into the mattress where your face is pressed against it.

“Oh! Oh yes, yesyesyes right there!” You babble, pussy coating his cock with slick as he plows into you, makes the box spring squeak from the effort.

“Fuck this pussy’s good,” Flip grunts as he lets himself get lost in the feeling of your cunt, hands holding you steady, “I’ve got you, I’ll give you what you want.”

“Thank you! Ah – ah Flip, Flip, harder!” You beg, “Harder please!”

“Shh, we gotta be quiet, or else we’ll – ” Flip casts an anxious look to the door, because he swears for a second that he can hear footsteps out in the hall.

He’s too wrapped up in you to stop or pull out of you when the doorknob turns and the thing opens just wide enough for Kylo to slip into the room. He doesn’t look happy, and Flip doesn’t blame him. He also doesn’t stop fucking you, much to Kylo’s annoyance.

“Fuck you guys, you know that?” Kylo hisses, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the party down on the other level of the house, “We can hear you downstairs.”

You for your part, are just happy to see him, your other favorite mensch.

“H-hi Ky.” You beam up at him, blissed out of your mind already, voice trembling from the force of Flip’s cock thrusting in and out of you.

“Hey baby girl.” He settles himself up onto the bed and rests on his knees, pulling you up onto your hands so that he can kiss you sweetly, never one to actually get too angry with you.

“I told you ketsl, didn’t I tell you?” Flip tsks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and lightly smacks the back of your thigh, cock grinding as far into you as you can go, pitching your whole body forward.

Your mouth presses more firmly against Kylo’s from the motion, and he’s already grabbing and fondling at your breasts from where they bounce, hanging out of your dress bodice.

“Uhhh-hhuhh,” You agree, already making out with Kylo, mouth just happy to be put to work. You yelp a little though, when Flip grazes your gspot at the same time that one of his hands curls around your hip to rub at your clit, “Oh -- Flip!”

“C’mon, open up.” Kylo shakes his head, undoes the buckle of his belt and unzips his trousers, “We gotta gag that pretty mouth of yours with something, don’t we?”

“Make sure she can breathe.” Flip instructs, before leaning over you and caressing your jaw, your throat gently. “Are you comfortable? Neck okay?”

“Mmhmm,” You press a chaste kiss to his palm and give him a big hazy smile over your shoulder.

Kylo’s dick is pretty equal in size to Flip’s, maybe a little shorter but definitely just as thick and veiny. Your moans and sighs and hiccupping whines have Kylo rock hard, cock curving up towards his stomach, his cut head flushed a deep dark red.

“Good girl, be good and suck his cock.” Flip orders, making your pussy flutter around him as he slows down to a steady rhythm so you don’t accidentally choke on Kylo.

Your mouth drops open and your eyes are wide and wet, chest heaving in earnest now as Kylo guides his cock up to your lips. You kiss and suck and lick at his cock, tongue tracing over the veins and dipping into the slit before you wrap your lips around it and slowly start to take him further and further down your throat.

When Flip can’t wait any more, he picks up his pace one again, balls smacking against your ass loudly as he rubs at your clit and rails you, pushing you forward onto Kylo’s cock. Immediately, your noises are muffled, but the slick squelch of your bodies fills the air instead, steams up the windows and the mirror on the dresser, makes you all sweat in your clothes.

Your neck bulges out the hard line of his cock, deep-throating him as tears of pleasure and overwhelming lust spill down your cheeks. Your pussy throbs around Flip’s cock, and they work in tandem, when Flip pushes in, Kylo pulls out. Together they bring you closer closer closer to coming, your body trembling and shaking and jolting with pleasure in their capable hands.

“Such a spoiled princess, getting filled up from – oh fuck – from both ends.” Kylo grunts as he bottoms out, fucking your face slowly and carefully. He’s got one hand in your hair, holding your head as he rocks his hips back and forth.

“Oh she’s spoiled alright.” Flip agrees, making you whine and hum and moan around the dicks that are spearing into you, your body starting to seize up, clenching down hard as your pleasure builds and builds and builds, making Flip curse, “Who could say no to this – shit, ketsl do that again.”

“Hhhmmm,” You try, moaning low in your chest, the vibrations going straight up through Kylo’s cock and up into his spine, spreading through all his nerves as he pets your hair back, pets at your tear-streaked cheek.

Your eyes shut tight and you sob out your orgasm, whole body writhing, making both men still their hips immediately so you don’t get hurt. The crash of it has you nearly blacking out, and Kylo pulls out of your throat so you can gasp and gulp down air, your arms collapsing down underneath you.

“Can I come in her?” Kylo jerks himself off, his own body twitching and growing warm, stomach tensing and nerves singing, veins blazing.

“Just a minute, just let me – oh fuck, fuck – ” Flip blows his load in you, hot and thick, filling your cunt up as he continues to thrust into you, his finger still rubbing your clit, milking your orgasm for as much as he can. His other hand clamps down over your mouth so no one can hear you crying out little babbling whimpering sounds, and after a minute or two, Flip pulls away from your body, letting Kylo take his place,  “Okay, you better not get a fucking drop on her, this is a brand new dress.”

“I – I won’t, sir.” Kylo replies, his cock immediately nudging into your pussy and thrusting in and out, pushing and fucking Flip’s come deeper into you, until Kylo is coming too, adding his load to the mix.

Flip turns your face towards his and kisses you deeply, swallowing your pretty moans and cries as Kylo comes and comes in you. Flip rubs your stomach and praises you for taking them so well, but you’re too out of it to really notice, instead just kissing Flip sloppily and giving him a big dreamy smile and a breathy, “I love you guys.”

“Yeah you fuckin’ better.” Kylo grunts, pulling out of your pussy once he’s sure he’s done. He tucks your panties back into place, watches as the mess of come immediately begins to seep into the fabric there. It’s a good thing Kylo has a couple pairs of your underwear stashed in his bedroom, he’ll probably have to go get you one to last you through the rest of the party.

“Love you too ketsl.” Flip smiles at you warmly, tucking his cock back into his trousers, buttoning himself back up. “Can you stand?”

“In a second, fuck that was good.” You slur your words, and neither man is convinced, but you had a pretty good refractory period, and you’re already becoming more and more sharp as you ask Kylo, “We didn’t miss anything important, did we?”

“Nah, Ben and Matt are wrestling over the last bite of kugel.” Kylo kisses you, pulls you upright to snuggle against his chest, as Flip rubs your thigh – the thing that got you into this damn mess to begin with.

“Aw fuck, I wanted more kugel.” You groan, kissing each of your boys, smiling when they kiss each other.

“Well, tomorrow is another adventure.” Kylo says, standing up and holding out a hand for you to take as leverage.

Flip helps keep you steady with a strong arm around your waist, the three of you heading to the guest bathroom to clean up properly before rejoining the party. Despite coming so hard that you were seeing stars, you don’t look too disheveled – nothing some face wash and a hairbrush couldn’t fix.

And as you rejoin the festivities of the party, as Ben immediately starts yelling about how Hux was cheating at dreidel, as you notice Mattie eating the last bite of kugel, you give your boys a cheeky grin, thinking that you just can’t wait to see what you’ll get up to tomorrow night.

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman/reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren/flip zimmerman/reader #kylo ren smut #flip zimmerman smut #blackkklansman #adam driver fanfiction #adcu

[suoyou]

[wip] 凤凰涅槃; phoenix rising

incomplete wip. 9034 words, rated t.

wangxian court intrigue + wuxia + wingfic au, in which wwx is the lost phoenix and lwj is royal scholar. this is actually a collection of scattered scenes through the first act of the fic!

dwell too long in the fire and even the phoenix will burn.

Wei Wuxian holds a rotting mango in his hand. 

Pungent, slippery as an oiled wok and twice as dangerous, it’s just a few days too old for optimal flavor—but he does not plan to eat it. No, he’s going to throw it. 

A well-aimed piece of fruit and the right audience and a stomach just empty enough that the metallic edge of hunger has begun to bite makes for a good show. Wei Wuxian teeters like a gargoyle on the upturn of a roof, all his weight balanced in a crouch, waiting for the fishmonger to pass by beneath him. The market teems with citizens who have come early to buy the freshest kills and produce that the morning has to offer, the smell of frying jianbing wafts in thick curls up to Wei Wuxian’s perch. His belly rumbles. His last meal had been during sunrise the day before. 

“Fresh fish!” shouts the fishmonger. His mule’s head bobs dark and feisty as it tugs his cart along. Behind them, their wagon is crammed with quivering tubs full of water and writhing fish. “Fresh from the docks this morning! Fresh caught! Carp and eel and shrimp! Killed and scaled and gutted if you ask! Fresh fish!”

Wei Wuxian rocks up onto the knobs of his knees. The tiled roof digs into his skin--what are you doing here, flightless bird? His weapon of choice bleeds a thin, honeyed line of juice from his wrist to his elbow. He takes aim. 

A little commotion in a crowded market goes a long way. One spooked mule, one fishmonger, and a wagon full of uncovered tubs of live catches? What could go wrong? The sun hammers on his back, asking him what he’s waiting for. The mule’s flanks are exposed around its saddle and harness. Wei Wuxian screws one eye shut and sticks the tip of his tongue between his lips as he raises his mango, and--

“I’ll bet my daughter!”

A disturbance rises above the cheerful twang of the market below. It comes from the gambler’s stall, tucked away by the liquor stand. What a smart, slimy placement. 

“Is this man crazy?”

“What kind of father are you?”

“How disgusting, to gamble with your daughter’s life!”

Wei Wuxian frowns. Below him, the fishmonger passes, and the crowd molds around his wagon like ants around a snail. A pustule of a man hunches over the gambler’s stall with a girl of no more than nine or ten in his grip as he snarls in the proprietor’s face. His clothes are stained and dirty, and his eyes are yellow with jaundice. Anger flares hot as a kicked hornet’s nest in Wei Wuxian’s belly, muting the hunger, when the drunkard yanks on his daughter so hard that she trips into the table. 

Without thinking, Wei Wuxian shouts, “Hey, you, ugly dog at the gambler’s table!”

Dozens of heads turn to stare. 

Wei Wuxian lobs the mango with all his might. 

It whistles over the street like a lumpy, bulbous pigeon, dripping as it goes. The man is too drunk, or too hungover to move out of the way--he simply watches, jaw slack, not seeming to realize that he’s in the way until it splatters him square in the face and explodes in a shower of golden muck. He howls, clawing at his skin, and in the process lets his daughter go. She falls because she’d been unbalanced, hard into the street on her elbows. Some of the mango carnage had splattered onto her. Orange-brown bits drip off her chin like fat, gummy tears. 

The drunkard points a trembling, furious finger at Wei Wuxian. “You--!” 

“Me? What about me? Worry about yourself first. Worry about your daughter!”

A small crowd has gathered to watch the spectacle--this man, covered in sticky mango goo and attracting flies, and this vagrant shaking with laughter on the roof. He is so close to the edge, yet balances in place without any unsteadiness, with the surety of someone who is always in high places. 

“You are a coward, staying on the roof! Get down here and fight me with your fists, like a man!” shouts the drunk. His daughter tugs on his sleeve behind him as the crowd thickens.

“A-die, A-die, let’s go--”

“Let go of me, you useless girl.” He shakes her off. “Good for nothing, waste of space. Not even good enough for gambling money.”

Wei Wuxian frowns. A hushed gasp races through the bodies below as he stands and tips from his perch on the roof, tumbling once before alighting in the street. His shoes stick to the pavement from the tack of juice. The man barely makes it up to his chin, and his skin is splotchy from alcoholism; his clothes are patches which means he had family members whose kindness he did not deserve at home. 

“What,” says Wei Wuxian, tucking his hands behind his back. He’s not above mango-throwing, but he’s not going to fight a man in front of his young daughter. Now that’s just bad manners. “You really want to fight me? Just take my advice, sir. Go home. Take your daughter and your money and buy some food, and go home. Don’t make me throw another mango at you. That was going to be my lunch.”

“I’m not scared of men like you. Arrogant and scornful, just looking for a fight! I ought to break your--”

Wei Wuxian intercepts the man’s fist before it can connect with his face.

He fights like a commoner would, crude and unpolished, with his thumb tucked inside his fingers. Rookie mistake. His eyes bulge like a frog stepped on as he tries to force his way through Wei Wuxian’s grip, face turning the color of puce as he fails comically. Wei Wuxian digs his nails into the back of the man’s hand, trembling with the effort of holding him in place, and then he shoves him back. 

The man goes sprawling in the street, and the crowd shuffles back, as if to avoid a particularly filthy swine. 

“A-die,” says his daughter, trying to help him up, but he swats at her. “A-die.”

“Go.”

Not without spitting at Wei Wuxian’s feet. He simply laughs, because it’s such a silly, juvenile thing, and then, like an infection clearing, the citizens around him scatter back into the day. 

Wei Wuxian claps his hands together, then wipes his palms on the seat of his robes. “You really ought not to entertain patrons who have clearly started to lose their control,” he says to the proprietor of the gambling stall. They wipe down the edges of their table with a dusty rag where the carnage of fruit clings. “Soon he will trade his whole family away for nothing but a nugget of gold.”

The proprietor scoffs. “And who are you?”

“Someone nice enough to clean his mess up. Sorry for this, by the way,” says Wei Wuxian. He starts straightening sacks full of supplies--coin bags, a set of rings, vases clinking fluted and musical against each other. They must run a games stall elsewhere in the city; Wei Wuxian has seen these prizes before. 

“Who asked you to be a vigilante, anyway.” The proprietor shakes his head. “You look for trouble, boy.”

“The only thing sweeter than trouble is justice,” says Wei Wuxian, laughing at the distaste the proprietor levels at him. He chases a few escaped scrolls that have tumbled from their sack.  “Ah, don’t be like that. I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere with business, okay? I just don’t like to see--”

One of the scrolls has unfurled enough for Wei Wuxian to catch a glimpse of the ink painting. Beneath the glimmer of midday sun the paper is so buttery that Wei Wuxian expects for his fingers to come away slick when he picks it up, letting the scroll’s weight pull the painting the rest of the way open. 

The brushwork is unfamiliar. Mountains studded with frosted clouds, a lake, a tiny figure of a man at the silver waterline. A spray of peonies cradles the scene in its petals, done with a brush so fine that the artist could have drawn it with a single human hair. Wei Wuxian doesn’t recognize it--not the art. He hadn’t opened it for the art. 

A red seal dots the corner of the painting like a button of blood. Wei Wuxian would recognize it anywhere--anyone should recognize it anywhere. Being in possession of something with a seal like this, without explanation, could earn an axe to the neck. 

“Sir,” he asks, staring at the painting, “how did you come across a painting done by the imperial family?”

The proprietor’s eyes widen, and they make a wild lunge for it. Wei Wuxian is taller, though, and jerks it out of reach, rolling the scroll back up so the paper won’t tear. “Give it back!”

“Aha! What is it? Tell me. How did you come across a treasure like this?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Hmm. So if I simply walk away with it, you will also simply shrug, and let me be on my way?” Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows when the proprietor glowers. “Ah, so it mustn’t be nothing. Not with a look like that. Do tell.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip, smiles. His stomach rumbles, already two cartwheels ahead, but he needs to slow down and think. “Can I pawn it from you?”

“I’d like to see you try, boy. Give it here!”

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I would not try. I would give it back to you, if you asked nicely, but oh--oh, the danger of another person knowing that you have a painting with an imperial stamp on it, with no way to explain how. Unless you’d like to tell me. But you’ve made it clear as day that you’re not interested in letting me know, so you’ll just have to let a stranger go, knowing he carries this secret, not knowing who he is, not knowing what he’ll do.” He holds the scroll out now. “But of course, I cannot take what’s mine. Shame. Here you are.”

The proprietor had listened to him speak with a vague, mounting fear in his eyes, and when Wei Wuxian shakes the scroll at them, they shrink back as if he’s shaking a dismembered arm at them.

“What, don’t want it now? Didn’t you want me to hand it over?”

“What are you playing at,” the proprietor asks. “Are you a palace spy? What do you want?”

Laughter leaps from Wei Wuxian’s mouth. “Me, a palace spy? Oh, no, no, no. I’m afraid not. Palace spies have much more important things to do than to sniff out thieving proprietors. Tell you what. I take this off your hands and you don’t have to worry about your neck, or your family’s necks, and in return, I won’t tell them where I found it. Hm?”

“You plan to give it back to the imperial family?”

“Of course,” says Wei Wuxian. “All things return to where they belong in the end.”

So as it goes, Wei Wuxian is one mango poorer, but one imperial painting richer, and he cannot tell if he is better off for it. He tucks the scroll into his knapsack and the key that hangs around his neck back into his collars and scans the market for weak spots, opportunities to win more food than he has money for. The rotten mango had been stupid luck, and luck is a finite resource which Wei Wuxian does not have much of to begin with, so he’s going to have to work for the rest of his food today. 

A surreptitious scrap of pink peeks out from behind the liquor stall and Wei Wuxian only catches a glimpse of the girl before she tucks herself behind the wooden beams again. Oh--the drunk’s daughter. She’s alone now. Irritation bubbles in the pit of Wei Wuxian’s stomach when he pictures the man shaking her off, lumbering towards another gambling stall that will entertain his time, and he has half a mind to--

“Fresh meat buns! Made this morning. Pork and chicken and mushroom!”

Wei Wuxian catches up to the bun cart, falling into step with the vendor. “Shifu, how much for one?”

“One bronze piece for three.”

“Can I get five for one bronze piece?”

“Are you deaf or just stupid? No. Get lost.”

“Please, shifu,” Wei Wuxian says, he gestures behind himself in the direction he’d seen the little girl, “my daughter, she hasn’t eaten in days, and we’re here to see the doctor and he turned her away on account of the fact that we have no money, and she’ll only get sicker if she doesn’t have any food in her system, our family is still waiting at home, please have mercy--”

“Heavens! Good heavens, fine, here! Take these misshapen ones, they’re an eyesore, anyway.”

“Thank you!” Wei Wuxian fishes the bronze piece out of his money pouch, fingertips poking through the holes in the bottom like eyes, and collects his spoils. “Thank you, Shifu!”

“Get outta my sight.”

Wei Wuxian holds his armful of buns to his chest, and their heat warms him through his clothes down to his bones. It’s a relatively cool day, even for autumn. When he turns around again, the girl scrunches herself back into the safety of the shadows, and he chuckles to himself. The liquorist eyes Wei Wuxin warily when he approaches, but he simply seats himself on the other end of the stall and opens his carrying cloth full of lopsided buns. Ugly, unwhole, but still good for hunger. Still good. 

“Could I interest you in a bottle of rice wine?” 

“Ah, no, it’s fine,” Wei Wuxian flaps his hand. “I am not wont for liquor, but perhaps some company to share these buns with. I have far too many to finish on my own. But I don’t know who’d want these ugly buns. Certainly not you, Shifu, I’m sure?”

The girl peeks out from behind the stall, and Wei Wuxian smiles. “Want one?”

She scampers to sit down in front of him, reaching out with sooty hands for a bun at the top of the bile. The skin of it is pearly in the noon sun, giving under touch, the way only fresh steamed buns are. Then she hesitates, looking into Wei Wuxian’s face as if expecting to be struck.

“Go ahead,” he says, holds the bun out. “Eat.”

She snatches it and crams half of it into her mouth, and Wei Wuxian chuckles again. He knows hunger like this, and takes his own portion to tear into. The sweet smell of pork and mushroom and oil floats up into his eyes, and for a moment the meat sears on his tongue before it settles into a taste. 

“Is it good?” he asks.

She nods. 

So it’s good.

“Where have you been? Wei Wuxian, I ought to cut you off at the kneecaps! A-Jie’s been worried sick, you were supposed to be back over a shichen ago.”

“I ran into a friend, Jiang Cheng. Lighten up, will you? Here, I got buns.”

“Keep your stupid buns. Where’s the fish you were going to get?”

Wei Wuxian scratches at the back of his neck. “Ha. Well, about that.”

“Seriously? I can’t believe you. If it weren’t your birthday, I really would cut you off at the legs.”

“But it is, so instead, you need to be nice!” Wei Wuxian crows triumphantly. 

Jiang Cheng sighs, a gust of hot summer wind that picks up stinging sands. A wisp of his hair flits with his breath. He’s wearing his nice clothes, no doubt because A-Jie made him, with a polished belt tucked around his waist like the coil of a sleeping snake. It’s a formality that they hardly ever bother with anymore, not in such a provincial town as this, leading a life as threadbare as theirs. The shine of the buckle comes off of him in bright flashes. 

“Whatever. Come on, A-jie made noodles. Where’d you get buns?”

“Oh, so you do want one. Here, I know you like chicken.”

“Don’t tell me you managed to snatch all of these,” Jiang Cheng asks, but he takes the one Wei Wuxian offers anyway. “Who likes chicken,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“I just harnessed a talent that you have never quite mastered, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says. “Charm.”

“I ought to smack you.”

“There was a hungry kid. I didn’t want her to go hungry.”

Jiang Cheng is quiet. “We all are, why go help a stranger?”

“Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to help us back then?”

At this, a grunt. Which, coming from Jiang Cheng, is as enthusiastic a yes he’ll give, so Wei Wuxian smiles to himself and slings his sack of food over his shoulder. He’s down to two now, and he figures he’ll just give both of them to A-Jie who deserves much more than two pork buns, but it’s the best he has. One day he’ll get her expensive candied mangoes and hawthorn berries that the baker makes in the market in the next city over--the one that glitters.

“A-Cheng, A-Xian! You’re back!”

“Found him scaling the wall back into the hutong,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “Punk.”

Jiang Yanli, too, is wearing her nicest set of robes today, with a hair ornament that Wei Wuxian hasn’t seen her with since the new year. Her face clears of worry when she sees them, and she reaches up, straightens a lock of Wei Wuxian’s hair where it’s caught over his ear. “A-Xian, you’re not--you know that you shouldn’t--” 

“Scale walls, climb to great heights, jump off roofs, I know, I know,” Wei Wuxian says, vividly recalling that he has done all of the above and then some today. “Sorry to make you worry, A-Jie, I’m fine! I got you buns. You can have them both.”

“But what about the fish? A-xian, we were going to make one for dinner for you.”

“Ah, fish or no fish, it’s no matter. Noodles are good enough. As long as I can live a long life, luck will always come back around.” 

“What if your whole life is plagued with bad luck?” asks Jiang Cheng as they duck back into their hut of clay and brick. The curtains are open, a rare moment of Jiang Yanli letting daylight peek inside, and it lights up their matchbox home in a wash of sunset. Bowls of steaming noodles are set out on the rickety slice of table, with the biggest in front of the seat where Wei Wuxian always sits. His heart swells. He’ll be forcing mouthfuls of noodles into his siblings’ bowls when they sit down, he’s sure, but for now his heart is the pulse of afternoon sun in the window. 

“Then my next life,” says Wei Wuxian. “My next one won’t be nearly as bad.”

The Lost Phoenix is lost. I think that’s the point. No one will ever find them. You will die looking for them.

Wei Wuxian is built from broken things. 

He sees rubble and thinks, that is a home. He sees blood and thinks, that is a heart. He sees himself reflected in the slow meanders of swamp-green lakes lazy with dragonflies and skeeters and tries to remember, that is a human, that is a human, that is a human.

“You may not be human, but that is what makes you worth loving,” is what A-Jie says. 

“You? A human? With an appetite like that? It’s like trying to feed a void with you,” is what Jiang Cheng says, which is basically the same thing. 

Wei Wuxian is built from broken things, but the uglier, eyesore-pork-bun truth is that he is born from destruction. He is born from the fire of things, and the ashes of himself; his body waits for the wither. 

The Lost Phoenix is dead. His ashes were scattered in mountain, sea, and sky.

The Lost Phoenix is alive! Everyone knows that leaving behind but a single ember can spark a wildfire. Fire has wings.

No human, ghost, or demon has ever seen the Lost Phoenix. If they had, wouldn’t we have heard by now? They are only a legend.

There are scars on his back to prove what he once was and never will be again, and Jiang Yanli tells him, The world was not ready for you. The world, perhaps, will not be ready for the Lost Phoenix to return for as long as we still walk upon it, A-Xian, but maybe when one day when everyone is gone, when A-Cheng and I are gone, you’ll--

He always cuts her off there. Usually he can’t see her face, because she’ll be sitting behind him and rubbing oil into the muscles that can never seem to loosen around his shoulder blades, the ones that line the edges of the scars like mottled mountain peaks. Just two of them, in straight lines as long as a hand, glaring at each other over the expanse of his back, the winding groove of his spine. Phantom pains. Human or not, the body will miss limbs when they are gone. 

Tonight, Jiang Yanli does not tell him the world isn’t ready for him. It hurts to listen to her say it, because it’s not a pain that Wei Wuxian can beat away with his fists or even his words. There’s a quiet noise of the bottle being unstoppered, then the cloying scent of liniment oil wreathing around him as he sits with his back bared to her, hair swept over his shoulder. 

“A-jie,” he says. 

“Hmm?” Her hands are small and warm against his back, and he hisses in pain when her finger catches on a tight knot immediately. “Sorry, Xianxian.”

“It’s okay. Uhm, I have a stupid question.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. Ask.”

“Which birthday did we celebrate tonight?” he asks quietly. 

The inside of their hut is a dark, uneven indigo now, the fires of the village filtering in through their window. Jiang Cheng has gone to bathe, so the only answering noise above the sound of a city settling in evening is Jiang Yanli’s soft laughter. 

“Your thirty-first, A-xian.”

“How many years have passed in this life?”

Her hands disappear as she dabs more liniment oil onto her fingers. “Since your reincarnation?”

“Yeah.”

“Thirteen.” 

“Thirteen,” Wei Wuxian repeats. “Thirteen.” He rolls it over his tongue, trying to figure out how it tastes. Bitter, a little. like medicine. Maybe it’s the liniment. Jiang Yanli runs her thumb down the edge of one of the scars, massaging out a few particularly gnarly knots there. 

“Is there something wrong?” she asks. 

“Not wrong, exactly.” Wei Wuxian pushes his fingers into his folded robes in his lap, pretends the fabric is sand and silt at the bottom of a lake. He almost expects handfuls of snails when he pulls them back out. “It’s just that, with every passing year, I think maybe this is it--this is the year I’ll remember. This is the year I’ll remember the things about my life before this one. Remember when I tried to teach you and Jiang Cheng how to catch fish with your hands, in the river, A-Jie? You said you could see them beneath the surface, but when you’d reach in to grab it, it was like the fish were never even there.” 

“I remember,” says Jiang Yanli. She is quiet, waits for him to go on. 

“Trying to recall my first life is like that. I know it happened. I can see it right there, flickering under the water, but. But each year comes and goes, and not only do I not remember anything, it feels like more and more of what I thought I could remember slips away,” says Wei Wuxian. “I was excited in the eighth year of this life. Then I was excited in the twelfth. Thirteen is no good, is it, A-Jie? I’ve run out of lucky numbers to count on.”

“Would it make you happy to remember, Xianxian?”

“I think so. When I think about it--it’s funny, you know. Maybe you know. I can’t recall memories from it, exactly, but when I think about my first life, I think I remember being happy. Like when you roll over and the sun is already up. You can feel the warmth on you even if you don’t see the light.” Then Wei Wuxian snorts. “That doesn’t make any sense. Sorry, ignore me, A-jie.”

“It makes sense. Of course it makes sense. Is that all you remember, a feeling?”

They’ve been over this before. A hazy, murky image of something from Before, dredged up from packed soil. Jiang Cheng will always say, “Who knows? Why do you think I would remember?” waspish, and Jiang Yanli would always give him a soft, “Perhaps it was, A-xian.”

“I remember,” he says, “that we were in a noble family, once.”

This is an easy one. She always says yes to this one. “We were.”

“I remember that the palace walls were lined with bronze, not gold like a lot of the common folk think.”

“Yes, they are.”

“The accident.” The one that has turned him into this. 

“I wish you did not,” says Jiang Yanli.

“I don’t--not really. I just remember the pain. My body does, anyway.”

“Muscle has memory,” she says. “But because you are who you are, so does your blood and bones.”

Wei Wuxian fiddles with the gap-toothed key that swings from his neck. It thunks hollowly against his bare chest without the robes to hold it in place, and he tugs the deerskin rope that loops around his neck so that the knot tying it together comes down, down, down, through the hole in the key, up, up, back up again, a miniature comet’s orbit. 

“You were a princess,” he says, quiet again.

“Princess is a strong word.”

“But you were.”

“In my own way.”

And then, the most solid memory he has—a figure in white, with hair that fell to their waist, holding a smudge of pink in their hand. Solid, but blurred, like Wei Wuxian is trying to see them through a sheeting waterfall. The lines of their body were straight and crisp, except for the pink. The pink was always soft, parting the mud of his memory. 

He doesn’t mention this one, usually. Wei Wuxian holds it close to his heart where it has roots. Year after year, no matter the rains, nothing has flowered. Seasons have passed. 

“A person,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. 

Jiang Yanli’s hands slow. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” says Wei Wuxian. “Just a person. Their back is to me, so I can’t see their face, but it’s too blurry for me to see them, even if they’d been right in front of me. And they were just standing there--just standing. Nothing else. I don’t even really know if they’re real, but it’s the best memory I have.” He digs his nail into an indent in the key’s teeth. “Do you think they were real, A-Jie?”

“As real as the Lost Phoenix is.”

Wei Wuxian laughs weakly. “The Lost Phoenix is as good as myth.”

A myth meant to scare people.

A cautionary tale.

“The Lost Phoenix needs to stop squirming, or I will poke the sensitive parts of his scar, and I know he hates it when I do,” Jiang Yanli says. 

A story about a monster.

“Maybe it’s better to forget some things, A-Jie.”

“A-Cheng and I only want you to be happy, Xianxian. Whatever that means to you. Whether that means remembering or forgetting.”

“I want to remember, because your happiness is my happiness,” Wei Wuxian insists, turning around. Jiang Yanli lifts her hand away as he rearranges his legs in a half-lotus, one foot stretched out onto the floor. “I want to remember because I know this life isn’t one you and Jiang Cheng would have chosen if you both had a choice. You can’t say I’m wrong about that. No noble family member would choose to live in a rundown hutong if they had a choice.”

“A-Xian--”

“I know you won’t tell me what happened before my reincarnation,” says Wei Wuxian. “I know you want to forget. But if anything ever happens that means we can go back to it--you have to say so, okay? You both are the only family I have left. Let me do something for the people who have somehow kept me alive for thirty-one years. I can’t remember eighteen of them. As if I started reading in the middle of the story. There are things I know without knowing how I know them.”

Whether it be a story, a tale, legend, or myth, one thing was certain: the Lost Phoenix is the last known survivor of the Phoenix Rising, once the most revered noble family of the imperial city, the warrior family that protected the throne. 

Forged from the Sacred Fires of Scarlet Mountain, the Phoenix Rising once was so formidable that simply meeting one of them in their true form was a sign of luck and good fortune. They were, as their family name suggested, bewinged humans who lived and died and rose again from their own ashes. They were skilled in combat, nimble in war, with the ability of flight. They harnessed Taoist magic that was only spoken of in books. 

A secular world did not have room for magic.

“Our A-xian,” says Jiang Yanli, shaking her head, “always hurts himself trying to make us happy before he remembers he has a heart, too.”

“Ah, what good is a heart if I can’t deal it out in pieces for my didi and my jie?” says Wei Wuxian. “It’s not like anyone else has any use for it.”

“That’s not true,” Jiang Yanli murmurs. 

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Nothing, Xianxian.”

“You have my promise, A-Jie,” says Wei Wuxian. “It’s us three until the end. Never apart. If I can bring you and Jiang Cheng back to the glory days before this life, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She’s quiet, then dabs a light gauze over his skin to absorb the excess liniment oil. Both of them know it won’t be possible--even if they were a lower noble family, there wasn’t a ticket back into the royal city unless you saved the emperor from death or something equally as momentous. Save the empire, or something. Wei Wuxian dreams big, but he’s realistic. 

“Thank you, Xianxian,” she says, finally. 

“It smells like old people in here,” Jiang Cheng announces, as absurdly loud as new year firecrackers when he comes back inside. He smells of freshwater and sand, and he tracks an inky line of water where his wet shoes stamp footprints into the floors. “I know you’re another year older now, but you’re really getting started early.”

“If I’m so old, then you better talk to me with respect, punk,” Wei Wuxian says. Jiang Cheng may be loud, may be messy, but he chases away the strange, yearning sadness that tugs like a deep saltwater current on Wei Wuxian every time his birthday comes and goes. He loves his stupid, loud brother for it. “Hey! Where’s my kowtow? Where’s my ‘ge,’ then? Where’s my ‘Wei qianbei,’ huh? I’m so old, Jiang Cheng, pay your respects!”

“Screw you, Wei Wuxian. I’d sooner call you Old Man Wei. You’d have to rip out my tongue first.”

“Okay, come here then, my hands are free.”

“Gross! What’s wrong with you?”

And so night falls on another day, another year, and Wei Wuxian feels a little empty and a lot full, like a planet is breathing inside him. Jiang Yanli tugs on Jiang Cheng’s hair, makes him sit down so she can wrestle the tangles out of his drying frizz, and Wei Wuxian holds the lantern for light.

It’s enough. 

So what happened to them, the Phoenix Rising? Why have they disappeared?

Because they had power. Because they were loved, feared, and respected, all things an emperor should be.  

In the beginning, it was an honor to be the emperor that controlled the Phoenix Rising, for it took an equally distinguished ruler to command such a family, and for generations, the Phoenix Rising served the throne with grace. For generations, the empire was a glowing, golden city upon which the sun glittered, and the common folk called it the City of Gods. 

But at the end of a weak dynasty, the throne was seized by a bloodthirsty family that feared the Phoenix Rising and the power they held. People, monsters, kings, or gods? Did the citizens respect the throne? Or did the loyalty of their hearts lie with the strange, winged family that had for centuries been revered as the beacon of luck and fortune?

 Humans fear what they do not understand. Humans seek to destroy what they fear. 

And so the Phoenix Rising paid the steepest price.

“Did he mention it to you at all yesterday?”

“No! He never brought it up. That punk. I’m gonna wring his sorry little neck.”

“A-Cheng.” A rustle of wind through paper. Then, “We need to ask him where he found this. He could’ve been caught. He could’ve been killed.”

Wei Wuxian wakes to his siblings whispering. Whispers always come through dreams like shouts, and he’s having a very strange dream about walking through wire, except instead of coals at his feet, there is ash, and in the ash there are hundreds and hundreds of keys glinting red as squirting cherries. His feet are burnt and blistering, but he can’t run, can’t turn back, can only walk forward. 

There are no secrets in a single-room shack. No matter how quietly Jiang Yanli whispers, Jiang Cheng speaks loud enough to wake the whole town. 

“Nicked it, probably,” says Jiang Cheng now. A grudging respect colors his voice. “That’s probably why he took so long to get back yesterday.”

The bamboo sleep mat crackles beneath him as Wei Wuxian rolls over, then sits up. For a moment the world is a spinning top. Jiang Yanli turns, lowering something, and smiles when she sees him awake. Jiang Cheng, of course, is already swinging. 

“You dumbass! Where did you get this? If someone comes looking for it and finds it with us, do you know how dead we are?”

Then Wei Wuxian sees it--the painting that he’d charmed out of the hands of the gambling proprietor at lunch yesterday. Jiang Yanli holds it like a broken bird in her lap, and Wei Wuxian ducks when Jiang Cheng aims another swat at him. Mostly half-hearted, but he leaps to his feet and skips out of reach. 

“I was going to surprise you!” he says. “I didn’t even have a chance to tell you what I was planning. You don’t know how much money this could bring in the black market, Jiang Cheng, an imperial painting? Just think about it. I can just disguise myself, go at night--cover my face, you know--and we could stop living here. We could live in a real house, and we wouldn’t have to all share one sleeping mat.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli gets to her feet, too. Always graceful in a stark contrast to her two brothers, the lantern from which two wild tassels would dance in the wind. She lifts the painting up high so that she can point to the red seal in the corner. “Do you recognize this?”

“The imperial seal, right? Sure. Everyone does.”

“I’m going to puke blood,” says Jiang Cheng. 

Jiang Yanli ignores him. “You’re not wrong, A-Xian. But this is an imperial seal of a concubine.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Of the emperor?”

“Yes. Judging from the seal design, not just any concubine--she must be a consort, at least.” Jiang Yanli holds the paper closer to her face, trying to discern the characters. “Mo,” she mutters, unsure. 

“So we could sell it for even more money,” Wei Wuxian concludes.

“No, we are not going to sell it for money,” says Jiang Cheng. His face has darkened. 

“Are you crazy?” Wei Wuxian asks. “You said it yourself, if someone finds us in possession, it’ll be our heads. The faster we get rid of it, the less likely anyone is to know it ever passed through our hands at all.”

“Yeah, well, you probably should have considered that before you nicked it, genius,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “It doesn’t matter. Now that we have it, we’re going to use it.”

“Use it how, if not for money, then?” Wei Wuxian struggles to keep his voice low. Jiang Cheng is not making any gods damned sense--isn’t he the one who constantly talks about leaving this hutong under the guise of hating how cramped it is, when really, he and Wei Wuxian agree that they should move closer to the imperial city where there would be better houses and perhaps a respectable man for their sister to marry if she so wanted? 

“We’re going to use this to return to the imperial city.” 

A silence falls like a tree toppled in storm between them. 

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli begins. 

“We are?” asks Wei Wuxian. “How would that even work?”

“You’re the best at telling lies.”

“Well, yes, I’m glad you have seen the light.”

“Think about it,” says Jiang Cheng. “An emperor's consort. It means she must have been in favor with the sitting emperor, Jin Huangshang. A painting with her seal on it. How would a painting by a favored concubine of the emperor end up out here?”

“Wound up in a gambling stall, no less,” Wei Wuxian says. Now that Jiang Cheng puts it that way--it’s more than a little strange. “Fine, say that we could use it as our golden ticket back into the imperial city. We’ll be lucky if the consort is dead. She won’t be around to ask any questions if there are holes in our story. What if she’s alive? What if she’s not a consort? What if she was hated, what then?”

“A-Xian,” says Jiang Yanli, setting her hand on his shoulder, and the touch is firmer than he’s used to. “Stop. You too, A-Cheng. Returning would be dangerous for us.”

“Dangerous how?” asks Wei Wuxian. There it is--that gap of the first eighteen years of his life rearing its mangled head. Sometimes it’s like trying to read a page of text with half the words blacked out, the ones left behind still beautiful, but without meaning. “A-Jie, I thought we were…”

“We were a lower noble family then, Xianxian. But it does not mean that the court is a safe place for any of us.”

“Jie!” says Jiang Cheng. 

“No, A-Cheng. We’re not going back. It’s not just for A-Xian’s safety, it’s for all of us.”

“Would we really be in that much danger?” asks Wei Wuxian. “If no one knows I’m the Lost Phoenix but the three of us, nothing would happen.”

Right?

“Jiejie,” says Jiang Cheng, his voice quieter than Wei Wuxian has ever heard it, “the Crown Prince has never married.”

Jiang Yanli’s face, for a dizzying heartbeat, is stricken. Something like pain and longing flashes through her eyes quick as the swing of an axe in cloudy morning, but then it’s gone, and she sighs. 

“What does the Crown Prince have anything to do with A-Jie?” asks Wei Wuxian. 

“That isn’t any of our business. Not even yours, A-Cheng,” she says. Wei Wuxian has never seen his sister like this, drawn up tall with her chin held high, and for a moment he sees the princess that she must once have been. Jiang Cheng, who is easily a head taller than her and twice as broad, crumples under the weight of her gaze. “We left because we wanted to. We’ve lived by this choice and we will continue to live by it. Now, both of you listen--A-Xian will do as he planned, sell this painting for whatever sum that traders will offer, and we won’t speak of it again. Understand?”

The tension swells like a fever between them. 

Wei Wuxian should be happy that his sister is on his side for this--when is it that she ever picks sides whenever he and Jiang Cheng argue? Any other time, he’d be hooting with laughter, rubbing it in Jiang Cheng’s face, but there is a deeply strange, melancholy expression on his brother’s face that does not suit him at all. 

“Fine,” says Jiang Cheng. He takes the scroll from Jiang Yanli, rolling it up with care, then shoves it into Wei Wuxian’s chest with considerably less care. “Get this shit out of my sight. I’m going out.”

Wei Wuxian watches helplessly as Jiang Cheng moves around their hut with jerky movements, jaw set with the pulse of anger. He gathers his knapsack and what meager rations of buns left over from the day before, no doubt stale and hard by now, and loops it around his shoulder. 

Then he’s gone, without another word. 

Wei Wuxian gnaws on the soft inside of his cheek. “A-Jie--”

“Don’t think too much about what A-Cheng said, Xianxian,” says Jiang Yanli. “He won’t show it, but he worries. You needn’t take what he said to heart.”

Jiang Yanli will say no more, no matter how hard he presses. He’ll press anyone until they give, but not her. She ducks her head when Wei Wuxian turns to her with his confused, hurt silence, as if she is waiting for his anger. He’d never be angry with her. 

“I don’t understand, A-Jie.”

“A-Cheng and I simply have different ideas of what it means to keep our family safe. He thinks it means returning. I think it means to stay.”

“But why would we be in danger?” he asks. “Does this have something to do with the Crown Prince? Did he know who I was? I guess so, or else why would Jiang Cheng bring him up? Did you know him? Could he help us?”

“No, he couldn’t.”

Wei Wuxian sets his mouth in a line. “Well, I should be off too,” he says. The sun has already started to burn back the clouds; he needs to find tonight’s dinner for the three of them. Maybe he should go after Jiang Cheng, press him for more details. Their sister, despite what anyone might think, gives far less easily than either of them. 

“Be careful, Xianxian,” she says. “Oh, are you taking the painting with you?”

“There’s no way I’m going to leave it here in case anyone finds it and you’re here by yourself. Worst case scenario, I throw it away, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.” He takes Jiang Yanli’s hands in his, squeezes them ruefully. “I’m sorry, A-Jie. I just thought it would help. I didn’t want you to argue with Jiang Cheng.”

“It’s okay.” She tucks his stray hairs over his ear. “Go. Come back safe, A-xian.”

He waves at her once when he steps out, and once more when he makes it to the end of the hutong and she becomes little more than a quilted patch of terrycloth in the distance, as he does every morning when he leaves. Jiang Cheng can’t have gone far in the time that he’s gone, unless he took off at a sprint, so Wei Wuxian lets the scented chill of autumn fill his lungs.

The Crown Prince. What a strange person to bring up. Wei Wuxian rifles through what he remembers hearing in taverns and pubs, filtered through the thick veil of alcohol. The Jin family sits upon the throne now, after staging a coup against the Wens and seizing power just over a decade ago. The Crown Prince would have to be a Jin prince. The Jin Emperor was said to be quite the philanderer and had more than enough sons from too many concubines to choose from. The Crown Prince must be quite a favorite, for an emperor with so many sons would not pay any mind to choosing the Empress’s sons if he so liked one from his concubine better. 

And this Crown Prince, according to Jiang Cheng, has never married. 

The look on Jiang Yanli’s face--frozen, bruised, a bird shot from the sky before it begins to plummet--was not one Wei Wuxian expected to see when she heard this news. If they’d known this prince, then he must have been around even before Wei Wuxian’s reincarnation. Jiang Yanli must have spoken of him. 

But all his memories can offer him are vague smudges of color and a person with pink like a fire in their hands. 

It’s too early for the fishmongers just yet, but the market brims with life as it always does. Wei Wuxian narrowly dodges a cart full of fresh flowers, a toothless grandfather with a bamboo hat pulling it along weakly. One of the wheels is crooked, wood squeaking against the stone pavement. 

“Shifu, your wheel,” says Wei Wuxian, plucking the canteen of oil tucked low against the cart. It dribbles out in a black splash. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Thank you, young man,” says the grandfather, and Wei Wuxian waits for him to turn his back to the street before plucking a lotus from the back of his cart and tucking it into his knapsack. For A-Jie, as penance for upsetting her so early in the morning. 

Jiang Cheng is not hard to find. He is poor at concealing himself, both in body and in voice, and he really is very bad at haggling. Wei Wuxian sidles up to him at a fruit stall, arguing with the vendor over a particularly ugly dragonfruit that looks more like a leathery handful of meat left too long in the sun than any respectable fruit. 

 “Now I think,” says Wei Wuxian, plucking it out of Jiang Cheng’s hand and ignoring his indignant scoff, “shifu, if you let this fruit sit out in your display, it would ruin the look of all the rest of your fruits. ‘Ah, look at this lovely display of dragonfruit. But what do we have here? A misfit! A miscreant! A monstrosity, really!’ And then you lose business. So really, we’re doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” says the vendor with disbelief. “What gall.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, then tosses the fruit back and forth between his hands and gives a quick jerk of his chin. “What do you say? Half off?”

“I can’t believe you weaseled him into giving it to us for less than half off,” says Jiang Cheng five minutes later. “You could talk your way out of your own--”

Wei Wuxian tosses his dragonfruit from hand to hand. “My own what?” Jiang Cheng’s knapsack hangs flat and sad against his back, crumpled like a dead leaf, so Wei Wuxian holds it open and drops the fruit inside. 

“Nothing. Never mind. What are you doing out here with that--thing?”

“Do you think I was going to leave it with A-Jie? No way. Imagine if she were alone and someone found her with it.”

Jiang purses his lips, nods. He tucks his thumb into the strap of his knapsack, a deadknot slung over his shoulder. “Have you thought about any stories?”

“What stories?”

“About what we’d say, if we brought it back to the imperial city.”

Jiang Cheng resolutely does not meet Wei Wuxian’s stare. 

“You want to go?”

“I just think that if we have a plan, A-Jie might be more willing to go. To be honest with you, if it were just to the two of us, it wouldn’t matter as much. We could sell the stupid painting, use the money. We could eke out an existence. It would fucking suck, but we could, and I wouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

“Ah, Jiang Cheng. You’re finally talking sense!” Wei Wuxian claps him on the back. When Jiang Cheng doesn’t shake his hand off, his smile falters. He must actually be worried. “Okay. We have to consider multiple scenarios, then, if we want this to be foolproof. We don’t want to make up a story where the concubine is alive when she’s dead. Or vice versa. So the first order of business is to figure that out.”

Jiang Cheng nods. “And what kind of favor she’s in with the emperor. The better, the easier for us.”

So, like peddlers, they spin their stories. 

+

The night blooms blue and foggy, the moon dropping light in handfuls of glass through the forest, and Wei Wuxian straightens to see that he is not alone. 

Someone else is in the mist with him. It’s thick enough that he cannot see their feet, so they could be floating. A man--just a bit taller than Wei Wuxian himself. His sword is drawn, lowered, as if he’d been pointing it before Wei Wuxian sensed him and stopped. The folded steel blade flashes. 

Blood sheets heavily down Wei Wuxian’s leg where the muscle has torn around the arrowhead, and haze sloshes in his skull. His brain is an upended bowl of goldfish. He grasps for words, for his thoughts, but they slip through his fingers. The stranger stares at him a bit in shock, a bit in horror, mostly in surprise. He opens his mouth. He closes it. He is wearing so much white he could be glowing, a star abandoned by its galaxy, and Wei Wuxian is the only one to find him. 

They stare at each other in the gloom. 

Wei Wuxian’s scattered goldfish thoughts say, Pink.

“Are you here to kill me?” asks Wei Wuxian. His words come out slurred even to his own ears. He needs to find Jiang Cheng. They need to get back to A-Jie. He needs to get out of here. 

“No.” The stranger steps towards him. “We mistook you for a prey animal. Are you badly hurt?”

“This? No, no. I’m fine. I need to go.”

“Your leg is injured.”

“It’s fine. I need to get back to--my wards,” Wei Wuxian says, catching himself before he says anything too revealing, pats himself on the back for staying in line even as his thoughts unravel. He picks his favorite story and sticks with it, hopes to any god that is listening it won’t get any of them killed. “My wards. They were with me. I was looking for Jin Bixia.”

The stranger has come so close that Wei Wuxian can make out every stitch of his robe. “What business do you have with the emperor?”

“I have a painting,” he mumbles around the haze. It’s a dark one, now. “My mother’s painting.”

Then darkness kisses his eyelids, and the night pulls him under. 

+

The scroll unfurls with the quiet hush of paper that has gone undisturbed too long. Even mounted on fine silk, the edges of the hemp and mulberry fibers have begun to wither, time nibbling as cruel and hungry as moths. The paper stretches on forever, nearly as tall as him fully unfurled. The cherrywood stick clacks upon the floor. 

Wei Wuxian’s mouth goes dry. He stares with seeing, then without comprehending, then without believing. 

The ink color has faded, like the paper, with age. Once the red might have leapt off the page, the greens so bright that spring grew from the painting itself, but all of it has flattened. It’s a simple composition. Where Mo Fu Ren had let her human subject be lost among the trees and sweeping landscapes, this painting is only one person, draped in textured golds and silk brocade embroidered with dragons. 

Simple, perhaps, but done by the hand of someone who held them beloved. 

His fingers shake when he reaches out. They hang back, and he pulls away, afraid that touching it might make the entire painting dissolve in his hands. 

Smiling serenely back at him is his own face, thirteen years younger, thirteen years less hungry—but it is him. His eyes are downcast, with a rabbit cradled in the crook of his elbow and a bird perched upon his shoulder. Without a doubt it is him. Even if he could not recognize his own face, the characters that march in little terracotta soldiers down the paper leave no room for guessing. 

The black ink is fresh, as if someone has run a brush through the strokes every year so that they can never fade. 

Wei Wuxian, they say. 

This can’t be right. He must be misreading. He blinks hard. 

His thoughts trip over each other’s ankles. They come in a clamoring flood, each wanting to be heard first, pored over first. Wei Wuxian. Had there been another before him? It is not a common name. It is not a name that would show up twice in the royal city if every noble family had the names of their descendants planned out for generations, no matter if the Phoenix Rising had been slaughtered by order of the emperor. Why is there a painting of him rolled up and locked away in the private study of Hanguang Gexia, second head of the scholar house to Emperor Jin? 

Did they once know each other?

How could it be that a key that Jiang Yanli gave him would unlock this desk?

There are corpses sleeping under their feet. This earth has been burnt and salted. 

An old ache starts in his spine. 

We were a lower noble family then, Xianxian.

Fire without coals. 

There was a person. Just a person.

Do not exhume these bodies. 

We left because we wanted to.

Something terrible must have happened to him. 

#fic wip #incomplete #wx

[bakustark]

10/2 knotting | hickeys

warning(s): knotting, biting, lovebites, rough sex, dirty talk, scratching, hair pulling, blow jobs, Dragon Slayer Reader, mating cycles/in heat, Gajeel himself is a warning, etc.

Losing Defenses

They stumbled into their shared flat, her back pressed against the door frame as his large body bore down on hers. His lips latched on to her neck and sucked harshly, leaving bruises that he kissed and licked at. She let out a curse, threading her fingers into his long hair and tilting her head back to grant him more access. Gajeel let out a pleased rumble and promptly grabbed a handful of her ass, bringing their hips together with a slow grind. She let out a moan at the delicious friction, echoed by his own groan of pleasure. 

His other hand cupped the side of her face to bring their lips together in a nearly desperate kiss. Her hold on his hair tightened when he ran his tongue along her canines before nipping sharply at her bottom lip. Blood oozed from the small cut and he lapped it up with the swipe of her tongue before sucking another bruise into her jaw. “Fuck, Gajeel…” She groaned, feeling her underwear stick to her lower lips as he continued grinding their hips together.

“Gihi, that’s the plan,” He grinned against her bruised skin. The air was growing thicker, the heat making sweat bead on their skin and run down along their spine. She huffed and tugged at his jacket. Gajeel leaned back for a moment, nearly tearing it off along with his shirt before doing the same to hers, followed by her bra when he fumbled with the clasps. He whistled appreciatively at the sight of her half naked body, cupping one of her breasts in a rough palm to bring his mouth down on the soft flesh.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she dug her nails into his shoulder blades. She was so focused on the way he sucked and kneaded her breasts that she jolted when his hand snuck into her underwear, not having noticed when he’d popped the button of her shorts open. Gajeel caught the drops of sweat sliding down the valley of her breasts with his tongue as he pressed his fingers against her mound, groaning when her slick soaked his fingers. 

His mouth let go of her skin with a wet pop. “You’re so wet,” Gajeel groaned, slitted pupils dilating. The sight sent her thoughts elsewhere.

“Don’t you think the Dragon Slayers have been acting weird lately?”

“How so?”

“They’ve been behaving like—”

She slammed their lips together, pushing the invasive thoughts of what she’d heard in the guild hall to the back of her mind while sucking on his tongue. He moaned lowly into her mouth and dipped his ring and middle fingers into her while grinding the heel of his palm against her swollen clit. Her walls nearly spasmed in the mockery of an orgasm at the sheer relief that came with the contact. 

“Bed,” She gasped against his lips, shuddering. Gajeel took his hand out of her underwear and scooped her up, almost tossing her onto the soft bed. He kicked off his boots and shoved off his pants followed by his black boxers. She followed his example, eyeing his swollen erection and the precum shining on the flushed tip. Her mouth watered and she stopped him before he could get on the bed. Gajeel tilted his head at her in question and she shot him a wink, grabbing his hip with one hand and guiding his shaft into her mouth with the other. 

She moaned at the taste of him and Gajeel let out a loud curse, threading his fingers through her hair. She pressed the flat of her tongue against the vein on the underside of his cock, feeling the quick thrum of his heart, and hollowed her cheeks. As she bobbed her head and sucked, little bumps and ridges started forming along his length. Goosebumps formed on her flesh at the feeling of tiny metal studs against her tongue and her thumb rubbed circles on the patch of scales that had appeared on his hip. 

He groaned and bucked his hips, a spurt of thick precum painting the roof of her mouth. His muscles trembled under her hands, the base of his cock thickening as it filled with more blood. The hands in her hair let up a bit, mindful of the claws that had replaced his fingernails, and started to scratch gently at her scalp. She purred around his shaft, eliciting a growl.

“They’re been behaving like animals.”

She froze.

Gajeel took it as a sign to pull away and he caged her in with his body, settling himself between her drenched thighs. He shoved his nose just under her ear and took a lungful of her scent. The filthy sound he let out made her cunt flutter around nothing. “You smell so fucking good,” Gajeel hissed into her ear, his hand travelling down to rub his thumb against her clit. She threw her head back, damp hair spread on the pillow as she moaned in pleasure. “Gihi, think you can come for me right now?” 

“Gajeeeel…!” She whined, her cheeks burning and thighs trembling as heat pooled in her belly. 

The red of his eyes was just a thin ring around his blown pupils, black and silver scales crawling onto his cheeks. He grinned widely, his gaze darting around her face as he took in her expression. His thumb drew tight circles on her clit, soaked in her juices. “Come for me, sweetheart, come for me and I’ll knot you.” Gajeel promised, voice rough, “I just need you to come.” 

His ministrations grew quicker and the weeping head of his cock nudged against her entrance, rubbing her slit teasingly. She dug her claws into his back and cried out, the coil in her core snapping as her orgasm slammed into her. She shook and trembled against him as her cunt clenched hard around nothing and her slick drenched his length. He cooed softly at her and pressed his lips against the scales on her jaw, running his rough hands down her sides. Her chest heaved with every panting breath and she closed her eyes, attempting to catch her breath.

“...like animals.”

“Who cares what they think?” 

Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him in confusion. “What.” 

Gajeel gave her a look, his long black hair surrounding them like a dark curtain. “It’s been bothering you, I can tell. Forget about it, those idiots don’t know anything about us.” He pointed out bluntly and she found herself averting her eyes. He leaned down to press their foreheads together, a smirk curling at his lips, “’sides, Dragon Slayer sex is way better than whatever sad jerk off session they have when they get home.” 

A smile tugged at her mouth against her will and she found herself chuckling at his words. Her laugh was cut off with a sharp gasp when Gajeel bucked his hips, slowly sheathing himself inside her moist heat. His long, pleasured groan as he finally buried himself to the root drowned out her own moans. She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles behind his back, and cupped his face to press their mouths together.

In between wet kisses and teasing nips, she looked into his half lidded eyes, “Knot me already, Kurogane.” She murmured against his lips. 

A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat and his thrusts picked up the pace. The schlick schlick schlick of their bodies meeting echoed by the sounds of the headboard knocking against the wall. He grabbed one of her breasts in his palm and gave it a firm squeeze, ducking his head to lick at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. She let out a soft groan, lifting her hips to meet his quick thrusts.

“Ugh, so good, Gajeel…” She babbled, moaning and gasping as the beginnings of his knot began tugging at her entrance with each drag of his cock. He groaned and growled against her neck, clutching her closer as his thrusts lost their rhythm to a more desperate rocking. “C’mon, Gajeel, knot me, come inside—” She whispered breathlessly into his ear.

The only warning she got was a strangled version of her name, followed by his sharp teeth clamping down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder before Gajeel snapped his hips forwards and shuddered violently, his knot popping into her cunt with a squelch. She cried out as another orgasm ripped through her at the feeling of being locked together. Her walls clenched down on his swollen knot in a vice grip, copious amounts of his virile cum spurting from his cock to settle in her womb. 

He let out a long, satisfied sigh and rolled onto his back, hugging her to his chest as they trembled from the aftershocks. Gajeel prepped soft kisses and licks on the bite on her neck, purring deeply. She relaxed against him and closed her eyes, letting out a content rumble of her own. A few moments passed before Gajeel rolled his hips, fucking his knot deeper and pressing her down to meet his lazy thrusts. 

Gajeel gave her a grin in response to her surprised expression, “Think I can make you come again before my knot goes down?”

#fairy tail x reader #fairy tail #gajeel redfox #gajeel redfox x reader #n/s/f/w #kinktober 2020 #gajeel appreciation day

[blue-slush-writing]

𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 1.6𝑘

𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑝: 𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜𝑢 𝑥 𝐼𝑧𝑢𝑘𝑢

𝑃𝑜𝑣: 𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠

“Where are we going, Kacchan?” Izuku looked over at his boyfriend who had his eyes glued to the road. It was clear he was ignoring him, but he had a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips. It was late at night, maybe three in the morning and they were driving down a dirt road in the country. There was nothing but fields on either side of them and there wasn’t another person for miles. This time in the summer the countryside was beautiful, with all of the harvest in full bloom. It wasn't often that he got to come out here, but there was no one he’d rather go with than Bakugou. They rode in silence with only the slight buzz of cicadas singing sweetly and the steady sound of the engine humming beneath them. It was somehow peaceful and serene, but Izuku was still confused about what they were doing.

Earlier that night Bakugou had come into their room and told him to pack up a blanket and meet him in the car. His boyfriend had packed up his computer, some snacks and a bottle of wine before dragging him out of their apartment. The greenette had wanted an explanation, but he was only met with silence. The only thing that he had managed to pull out of the blond was that they were going somewhere special, whatever that meant. Now they had been on the road for nearly 20 minutes and were deep into the night. It was always a nice break to leave the bustle of the city. Without all the bright lights and screaming of cars, it was like you could finally breathe.

Finally Bakugou seemed to see something off the road and turned off into one of the open fields of grass. In the dirt, the car bumped around roughly, jolting Izuku in his seat as they descended deeper into the sea of green. Once they were far enough that they could no longer see the trail they had come from Bakugou pulled the car to a stop.

“We’re here.” He said opening the car door and pulling out all of the accessories he had brought. “Do you have the blanket?”

Also stepping out of the vehicle, Izuku handed over a quilt he had grabbed from the living room closet. Bakugou offered a small rare smile, that plastered a blush over the others face. He stayed standing by the hood as he watched his boyfriend spread the blanket down in the grass and sit down. He gestured for Izuku to sit with him as he opened his computer. The mood was thick in the air and the greenette laid against Bakugou’s chest, enjoying being in his love’s company. They were both busy and rarely got to spend time like this just the two of them.

“Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing all the way out here Kacchan?” He sighed contently as he watched the other pull up Netflix on his computer.

“We’ve both been swamped with work, so I thought we could get away for one night and just have a glass of wine together.” He put his arm sound Izuku pulling him closer burying his face in his hair. He had showered shortly before they left, so the green curls were still slightly wet and smelled like a forest.

“And we couldn’t have just done that at home?” He chuckled, feeling Bakugou holding him tightly. He wasn’t sure what they had planned for the night, but he certainly hoped that he didn’t plan on getting it on in the middle of a field.

“You got a problem with it nerd?” Bakugou used his old nickname, but there was no malice behind the words. The way we said it was almost like a purr as he began to plant soft kisses along his jawline. They both began to lightly laugh, Izuku a soft giggle and Bakugou a deep chuckle. It was the best feeling in the world; just being held in each other's arms.

Just the two of them sitting alone, the only light was from the stars in the sky. Out away from the blinding streetlight and widows of Tokyo, you would see so many of the sparkling diamonds twinking above them. At that moment it was like the whole universe was looking down on them. The whole sky was a light with a million stars, only for them.

Izuku slowly turned around and planted a soft kiss on the others lips, lingering a little longer than necessary before pulling away. He smiled sweetly at the way his face flared red. Bakugou was harsh and rough with his love so small shows of affection always flustered him. Just as he was about to lean in for another kiss, the alarm on the blonds phone went off. They both looked over and Bakugou quickly snatched it and clicked off the sound. He pulled Izuku off from his lap and stood up.

“I need you to do something for me.” He glanced over towards their car. “Can you get onto the roof?”

“What?” Izuku asked, thinking he was joking. Bakugou looked so stern he had to try to stifle a laugh. When he was given a look that made it clear he was being serious, he turned around and made his way over to the car. He opened the Drivers side door and stepped onto the seat, before pushing himself up onto the roof of the car. Bakugou followed suit, and soon they were both sitting on top of the vehicle. Even though they were only a little higher, the whole field spread out in front of them. As Izuku was busy gawking at the beautiful landscape, Bakugou had his eye on something much greater. He lightly tapped the other on the shoulder, taking his hand as he stared into the night sky.

“Look up baby.” Izuku turned to his boyfriend before letting his gaze drift to the clouds above. When he found himself staring at a beautiful sight, his eyes widened in amazement.

Spread out before them, was a stunning array of light, like a painting in the night sky. Flashes of fire and radiance made the whole sky glow a million colors. A meteors shower in summer. There were hundreds of bits of rock raining down and shaping the world around them. A small gasp Escaped Izuku’s lips, and he squeezed tightly on Bakugou’s hand.

“Oh my god. Did you know this was going to happen?!” He felt his whole body tingle with a sense of pure bliss. He could roughly see the other nodding but couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes away from the show before them. Suddenly he felt himself being pulled down, and landed lightly on Bakugou’s chest. Laying on the roof, they both stared up in awe at the magic that they were witnessing before them. Out of everyone in the world, it was just the two of them sharing this moment together.

Bakugou put his arms around Izuku and Began to rub slow circles along his back. They intertwined their legs and cuddled closer to one another till they could feel their breaths hitting one anothers face. When their eyes met, they could see the sparks of the meteors reflected back at them and time seemed to stop. To Bakugou, those two glowing green orbs were truly the only thing he would ever need. Slowly they both leaned in, letting their lips collide. It was sloppy, but in sink as they danced together. Their breaths mixed, Izuku could feel Bakugou’s tongue trailing over his lips. He opened his lips in a gasp, letting both of their mouths explore each other freely. He slowly ran his hands up and down Bakugou’s chest, feeling his muscles through his thin T-shirt. Being held so close and being kissed passionately by the man he loved. Izuku was in pure bliss.

Balugou was ready to devour the other right there, but he thought he could at least wait until they were back at home. As soon as Izuku hit the bed, he would make sure to ravage him. For now, he pulled away leaving a string of saliva in between them as they both panted. They once again gazed into one another's eyes, a sight far more beautiful than the shower above them, before Bakugou sat up.

“Let's get out of here.” He said looking down at Izuku. The other nodded his head and slid off the roof, gathering the blanket in one hand, and opening the car door with the other.

Once they were packed back into the car, Bakugou pulled out of the field and back onto the road. He slowly turned the radio on and watched as Izuku’s face lit up. Before He Cheats was one of his all time favorite songs.

“Kacchan open the sunroof!” When he complied, Izuku slowly stood up, making sure not to kick Bakugou, and poked his head out of the top of the car. The wind whipped against his face, and he couldn’t help but smile and at the sound of the music blaring while the midnight air whistled in his ears. He fully pushed himself up, so that his entire torso was above the car and he threw his hands back, letting the breeze push his hair out from his face. There was no one in ears distance so he began to sing his heart out to the stars.

“I Dug My Key Into The Side Of His Pretty Souped Up Four Wheel Drive!” His words were lost in the wind, but he couldn’t care. He felt like he might cry with how perfect everything seemed. The whole world seemed so bright at that moment.

Below him in the car Bakugou was feeling the same. The slight of his Amazing boyfriend yelling to no one but him and the dirt road, and the kiss they had shared. How had he possibly gotten so lucky.

#Bakudeku #bakudeku fic #bakugou x deku #ao3 #stars #star gazing #writing #original writing #fanfic #bnha #my hero #my hero academy fanfiction #soft Bakugou #cute #car ride #get away

[aroseandapen]

Phantom Thief AU v. oumaede: On a night where Kaede and Shuichi have split up in their search of the thief plaguing the wealthy of the city, Kaede has a unintentional dance with the very one she’s looking for.

Of the two places Kokichi might appear that night, Kaede regretted offering to take the large formal gathering. Shuichi would fare worse, though, so she bit her tongue and held her sighs in. Anything to finally catch the thief hitting so many wealthy households in the city. The person who caught him would certainly gain renown--as well as a promotion probably.

The thought made Kaede feel a little guilty. Shuichi wanted to catch him purely for the sake of justice, but Kaede’s motivations were less pure. Not that she *didn’t* want justice, but she was also tired of being on the field for years. She’d like a cushier, more secure, less competitive position that gave her more time for her one truth love. The piano.

More than once, her eyes gravitated towards the unused piano in the corner of the dance hall, wistful and aching to sit at the keys. If only she could’ve infiltrated as a pianist rather than another one of the guests…

“Hey there, what’s a cute girl like you doing being a wallflower here?” The voice caught her off guard. The tone was overwhelmingly familiar, rather than the stiff elegance of the rich party-goers around them, and it had a playful lilt that suggested ‘cute girl’ was a nudge in the ribs rather than an actual flirtation.

She frowned, turning to the man who spoke--and again he stunned her, but with his height.

“Oh,” she uttered before she could stop herself. He was significantly shorter by over half a foot, and though Kaede was slightly taller than average when it came to women, most of the men around her tended to be around her height or taller. Embarrassed with her thoughts, she reddened. She couldn’t apologize, however, or else he’d know why she spoke and probably be offended. “Well, no one asked me yet, I guess.”

It was a bland lie, and she wasn’t sure why she bothered to be dishonest about it. Several guys had asked her already; she simply turned them down, uninterested in anything but watching out for Kokichi.

The man held out a hand, palm up, and Kaede regretted her lie.

“Well then, wanna dance with me?” he asked, and she didn’t have much of a choice but to slide her hand into his grasp.

“Sure,” she said, her smile surely unconvincing.

He stepped lightly back onto the floor, tugging her along. She sucked in a shocked breath, pulled along into a dizzying whirl. Kaede didn’t know anything about formal dancing, but her clumsy feet missed his toes with each stomp as he threaded them through the crowd. They whipped past another couple, so close without colliding that she couldn’t help a giggle as they spun again and again, all across the dancehall.

A second passed in an hour before their whirling came to a stop. Breathless and dizzy, she braced her hands on the other’s shoulders as his hands on her waist were weightless while they supported her. She hadn’t expected the cardio, her heart racing, cheeks flushing, nor did she expect it to be so much fun.

“What can I say? I’m a good dancer,” he said, chortling.

Kaede lifted a hand to her mouth, unsure if she’d spoken out loud.

He tilted his head inquisitively. “Do you play piano?”

Her eyes widened. “How’d you know?” she asked, baffled.

He jerked his chin in a direction behind her, and she didn’t need to look to know he gestured towards the dusty piano. “You were staring at it when I came up to you.”

“Maybe it’s just weird that they don’t have a pianist playing tonight. There’s always one at these fancy things.”

“Maybe,” he sang, and his smile grew, “but you already told me I’m correct.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Hey, I didn’t get your--”

“Oh!” he cut her off with a startling utterance. “I forgot to ask the pretty lady’s name, hm?”

It felt a bit odd to her that he interrupted just as she was about to ask for his name, but she brushed it off. “Kaede. That’s my name. And yours?”

He didn’t answer right away, taking up a cheerful hum. “Kaede, Kaede, hmm…”

Then he stood on his tiptoes, leaning in so abruptly that Kaede sucked in a quick breath. His lips were next to her ear, his voice dropped to a whisper--no, more a breath ghosting over her skin. She shivered at the sensation.

“The name’s Kokichi Ouma, Miss Detective-Pianist.”

The pressure against her vanished, leaving her body chilled from the spots he’d held her in during their dance. Kaede was left blinking, stunned, her brain short circuiting from the suddenness of what just happened and struggling to catch up. Meanwhile Kokichi had vanished, slipped off among the crowd. She swung her head around, trying to catch a glimpse in the crush of bodies.

There. At the glass double doors that led to the balcony, slipping outside.

“Scuse me, excuse me.” Kaede dove through people, bumping people in her haste to get past. The doors had already clicked shut when she got there but she burst through, knocking into the glass with her shoulder.

The balcony was empty. On a whim, she happened to look up, a dress shoe dangling above her head. The leg it was attached to vanished up onto the roof.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Kaede wasn’t one for rooftop chases or anything dangerous like that. Shuichi would be if he was here though. If she didn’t even try to catch him, then her partner would blame himself for not being here, no matter what she said.

Grunting, she yanked the straps off over her heels and kicked off her shoes. They flipped over the edge, clattering down to the ground floor but she didn’t care. She’d probably never use them again anyway. With a foot braced on the railing, she hiked up her dress and hoisted herself up. She was just barely able to catch the edge of the roof with her fingers. Slowly, groaning in exertion, she pulled herself up.

Kokichi hadn’t gotten far. As she climbed up, he turned towards her with a gaping mouth. Then he laughed, high-pitched and delighted.

“You really came up here? I really underestimated you, Kaede!” he gleefully called across the tiled roof.

She spread her feet to give herself more stability. “I’m taking you in tonight, you’re not getting away!”

A gust of wind buffeted her, making her sway back. Her stomach dropped; she curled her toes against the bottom of her shoes so tightly that one of her feet cramped. She didn’t fall, but the reminder of the drop behind her stabbed like an icy knife in her gut. Regret bubbled up in her throat. Maybe this was a bad idea.

But as she worked the cramp from her foot, Kokichi had put more space between them, placing each step with ease like he was just walking on an even path. He taunted her with a grin.

“Gonna have to move faster than that if I’m not supposed to get away, Kaede~”

Her frustration flared hot; she saw red. She gritted her teeth and lunged across the rooftop. The distance between them plummeted. Kokichi yelped and jumped back from her swinging arm. Her fist closed over air--she grunted and swung for him again.

He slipped to the side. She missed, but her momentum kept her moving forward. The roof fell away just a few steps away. Kaede gasped, her heart leaping to her throat to choke off a scream. She pinwheeled her arms to regain her balance, to stop, to avoid the fall.

Kokichi grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked. She landed on her butt--shaking, but still alive on the roof.

“Be careful!” he scolded, fear bleeding into his voice.

Kaede couldn’t respond. She was too busy trying to catch her breath. The wind whistled past her ears, her eyes fixed on the dizzying drop that she would’ve had if Kokichi hadn’t pulled her back. She swallowed and shook her head.

“Y-you saved me.” Kaede turned to face him.

The rooftop behind her was empty. In the time it took for her to regain her composure enough to react, Kokichi had escaped. She lifted a hand to her forehead, swallowing back her fears and regrets.

“N-next time…” she breathed. But next time, she’d leave these dangerous stunts to the acrobats. No promotion was worth death.

#oumaede #kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #drv3 #danganronpa v3 #drabble

[brandyllyn]

In our own image (12)

Chapter 12

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters...

My Masterlist

Word count: 1700. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Explicit (NC17)

Warnings: PiV sex. mentions of canon trauma.

The storm had passed when Poe woke in the middle of the night. There was no sound of thunder, no howling wind. Just the gentle patter of the rain against the tarp that made the roof of the workshop.

It was also pitch black.

Poe took a deep, steadying intake of air. In his arms, Kina snuggled closer, her hot breath fanning across his chest. He focused on her. On the sound of her breathing. The warmth of her body.

It helped, but not enough.

He could feel his heart beginning to beat faster, his body trembling. He knew he wasn’t there. Logically. In his higher brain he knew he was safe on Ajan Kloss. But in the depth of his soul…

Poe was back on the Finalizer. Strapped into the chair. Unable to close his eyes but the drugs they had pumped into his body making him unable to see. Nothing but pitch black and pain. So much pain.

And then there was sight. But with it came Kylo Ren. In his mind. Sifting through his memories. Like a parasite sucking at the very heart of him. He’d have given anything for the darkness then. For the pain. Anything to stop this man from digging his claws into Poe’s brain.

Poe heard a fff noise next to him, felt Kina’s arms wrap around him. He must have moved, must have woken her up.

"Sorry," he murmured, nuzzling into her hair. "I don’t know what happened to the lights." He jerked when he felt her touch his face, grabbing her hand in a tight grip before pressing his lips to her knuckles. "Sorry. I just… I don’t like the dark."

Kina whistled softly. Suddenly, Poe saw soft blue light reflected around him. He turned, looking up, and saw a starscape above them. Hanging in the air between them and the roof.

"What-?" He started but Kina cut him off with a soft trill.

"BB-8 can make light," she said, "you never have to be in the dark Poe."

The hologram overhead moved slightly, spinning on its axis slowly and Poe felt his anxiety begin to drain out of him. He hadn’t thought… it hadn’t occurred to him to ask BB-8 to help. Not with this.

Another whistle, "Are you okay?"

Stroking a hand down her back he considered the question, eyes on the blue images above them. "Oddly yes, I think I am."

He felt more than saw her smile, the movement of her lips against his neck. She shifted in his arms, leaning up on one elbow and looking down at him. Kina whistled to BB-8 and Poe raised an eyebrow when the droid did not translate, only responded with, "It does not bother me Friend Kina, but I can turn away if you would like."

Another whistle from Kina.

"What did you-?" Poe started but he was cut off by her lips, her body sliding over his until she was straddling his hips and had his face cupped in her hands. His hands fell instantly to her thighs. Her bare thighs.

"May I touch you?" She asked and Poe nodded, suddenly unable to speak.

Kina sat up and Poe mourned the loss of her for just a moment before he felt her fingers tugging at his shirt, her eyebrow up in a question. He didn’t answer, just reached down and pulled his shirt off, tossing it Maker only knew where across the room. Her hands fell to his skin as he laid back down, stroking lightly against the ridges of his ribs, across the scattered scars, and down to his navel. Tickling against the line of hair that began there before gliding back up. She spread her fingers wide over his chest and smiled.

He smiled back. He knew he must look goofy, but watching the holographic stars drift around her head… she took his breath away. Her hands moved up, over his shoulders and she dug her fingers in slightly to the tight muscles. Poe groaned, eyes closing at the sensation. She rubbed him in slow circles, working the kinks out and then moving down his shoulders. Clenching her hands around his muscles and working them until he felt the tension release.

Then she moved down one arm, lifting his hand and settling it on her breast as her fingers worked against him. Poe opened his eyes immediately, squeezing the soft flesh. Her lips parted, her fingers drifting along his forearm. Her thumbs dug into his palm, pulling on each of his fingers before she reached for the other hand.

He lifted it immediately, cupping her breast and gently caressing her nipple. He heard her sigh, felt how her hands dug more firmly into him and he tested the feedback loop. Pinching her nipple softly through her shirt and feeling her nails dig into his skin. Poe sat up quickly, wrapping one hand around her waist.

He looked up at her, perched above him, her fingers now lightly tracing his neck. He nuzzled his nose between her breasts, breathing her scent in. It took a moment for him to realize the fabric was shifting, but when he pulled back she lifted her shirt off - tossing it to land wherever his had gone.

He had wondered about the rosettes. He would be the first to admit that. Had thought about if they would go straight over her breasts or something different. He’d seen enough to suggest an answer - but now he had one for sure.

The band of spots went straight down her breasts, surrounding her nipples, before continuing to her stomach.

It might not be the time to keep his promise to kiss every one, but he could see about a dozen he had great interest in kissing right this moment. And if her hands threading into his hair were any indication, she was not opposed. He traced his tongue across one breast, then the other. She dropped an open mouth kiss to his forehead and he groaned as he pulled one of her nipples into his mouth.

He let her lean him back down. As long as she let him keep kissing her she could do whatever she wanted. And she did, pressing her arms beside her head and holding her breasts to his face. Now he could use one hand to caress her, to plump her and hold her steady while he curled his tongue around her. The hand on her back slipped under the band of her panties, cupping her ass and pulling her down tight against him.

She could feel how hard he was. There was no way she couldn’t notice. Certainly not when he rocked his hips up into the cradle of her thighs and heard the low hiss she made. She pulled back from him, sitting up and pressing her hands to his chest and Poe felt an apology spring to his lips. But she didn’t look upset. Or frightened. Or annoyed. Or any of the hundred of things she might have been.

No, she was smiling at him, her hands trailing down his chest to his belt and he lifted his hips to help her. Pushing his pants and underwear down together and dropping them off the edge of the table.

She was straddling his thighs now, staring down at him. He felt himself growing harder under her gaze, and when she wrapped her fingers around him he cursed, back arching and hand slamming down to wrap around her wrist. She looked at him with a question in her eyes and he had to laugh, reaching his other hand up to wrap around her neck and pull her down for a kiss.

"If you do that we’re going to be done before we begin," he whispered against her lips and felt the puff of a laugh escape her. But then her hips were moving, her thighs stroking against him and he had to close his eyes.

They went wide when he felt her settle over him. Now she was fully nude - pressed to him and he arched his back, seeking out more. More of her heat. More of her wetness. More of her.

She obliged with a grin, reaching between them and setting him at her entrance and he bit his lip as he slid inside of her. "Oh fuck Kina," it came out as a plaintive groan and then she began to move and he lost his powers of speech.

He let her set the pace, rocking his hips to meet hers. After a minute she leaned over him, bracketing his head with her arms and kissing him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, matching the pace of his hips with his tongue. Grinding upwards for a moment and he felt her jerk in his arms.

He sat up suddenly, one arm to her back, the other holding himself up again. From here he could pull her nipple into his mouth, suck on her as he began to move up into her. Her hands threaded into his hair, her head tossed back as she gasped. He tilted her body back, holding her up with the arm around her and freeing his other up to slip between them. To nestle a finger to the bundle of nerves between her thighs and drive her higher and higher until her mouth opened in a wordless scream and her body clenched down around him so tightly he couldn’t help but follow.

The stars were still swirling above their heads when Poe regained his cognitive function. His mouth was pressed to her breast, one hand still wedged between them. She was resting her cheek in his hair and he gently re-situated her. Rolling them both to the side until they were laying nose to nose.

"Go to sleep," the low beeps came from BB-8 but he felt the quiet whistle of her breath against his lips. "There’s no darkness here. We won’t let there be."

BB-8 added an affirmative beep to the end of that and Poe teetered on the edge of embarrassment. It was one thing to fear the dark, yet another to have to listen to a person you cared for and a droid talk about it. But her hands were soothing down his back, pulling him closer so his head rested on her chest and he decided that if he was going to have negative feelings they could very well wait until tomorrow.

=

Chpt 13

#poe dameron #poe dameron x ofc #poe dameron / ofc #star wars sequels #star wars fanfiction #writing #fic

[hanadoesstuffbadly]

Daughter of Giants

"You should move along, Giant, we don't want your sort around here." The bartender's voice was low and authoritative, the voice of a man not easily ignored, but one didn't need the ears of a bat to make out the tremors coursing through it. Everything about him was a well made manor with good foundations, but Aravis could tell it was built on sand. Give him a little shake and everything would start slipping.

Aravis smirked and tapped her fingers idly against the bar's puckered wooden surface. A part of her cursed  how ineffective her disguise had been proving recently, even after she's taken to covering her folc markings. The last thing she needed now was to have word of a nomadic folcwoman travelling the Engle Lands like a sad silk trader. Her tankard's rim just brushed her lips as she held it there and she concentrated on the fact that the man had not moved along, still standing just out of sight behind her mustard coloured hood. If he just needed a shake, why was she feeling inclined to rattle him until the very bricks of his character were dust to be scraped off of her heel. Maybe she was too tired for this today, too done with walkers and their sloppy, indelicate ineptitude. But at the same time, her ichor was roaring through her veins, violet and rushing. It made her lungs burn like magma beneath the island's crust. Her titanic heart yearned for a fight. It had been too long.

"My sort?" Silk dropped into her tone inadvertently, turning her deep, hoarse, broken voice into an almost mechanical purr. Fear rippled through the room like ribbons. It was a cool breeze in a suffocating glare of self-importance and Aravis breathed it in.

"You're a bounty-hunter!" Not the bartender, but a nasal, underdeveloped voice called from the crowd of patrons that had interrupted their own meals to gawk like a gaggle around what had been a peaceful evening drink. Aravis didn't bother seeking out the speaker (though she suspected one of the pasty, mealy shepherds seated closer to the entrance. An easy escape, she mused, smart choice.) Her brow, however, creased at his choice of words. Bounty hunters were perhaps the lowest of the low creatures grovelling on the earth's filthy surface. Turning in fellows of your kind for the reward of others? Had they no sense of honour or kinship at all. Had a folcman or woman acted in such a way, they would be plunged beneath the clouds to the endless oceans below and ripped to shreds by the wild, Bacchic merpeople of the depths. Honour, trust, loyalty; mere dramatic concepts to be learned and forgotten by those thugs like poor poetry.

"Now what would give you that idea?" Likely her stature or lack of ladylike grace. Maybe-

"The ends of your hair. They're white." The thought died before it even took shape in her mind. A chill crawled up around her shoulders, turning the thick muscle there into cold stone. She was frozen in place, barely able to open her mouth to reply through gritted teeth, her head bowed lower toward the counter and her tankard rested against her suddenly ringing forehead.

"Why," she ground out, "would that," turning slowly like a tin doll, her eyes flashed, "mark me out?" Moonlight flashed against a bronze knife behind the bar and it set the room aflame. The man- boy really- stood and quaked like a tethered kite before the entrance like it was a headwind. He had a round, dark, unfinished face; the face of a scholar or bard, not a warrior. Nevertheless, Aravis wanted nothing more than to turn it blue with bruises.

"I've heard stories," He shuddered and searched any face but hers for help "my father's a pepper merchant, he told me about you and your kind." The idea of some miserable, slimy, slithering underwalker's tongue speaking of her ‘kind’ made Aravis' fists curl. "Your hair is dark and- and blue, right?" He was slipping, but didn't run. Yet. "He used to say, when- when what was inside your head became darker, your hair literally started paling in comparison... Making the tips turn white... And- I-I thought..."

"Tom Tom, that's enough." Hissed the bartender.

Aravis was very still. Whispers are meant to be lost in the chaos. Aravis’ words were like breaths, yet each one rang in the floorboards and out of the door like the echoes of screams.

"Your father is well-learned. Darkness seeping into every crevice of the mind, turning you into a miasma veiled in flesh? What better fits that description than a callous, underhanded criminal? What could be so dark, so evil, as to turn the tips of my hair so pale?"

With one hand she tore the hood from her head. And not a breath was drawn as their pathetic faces took in the blank, dull cascades, the colour of new snow. Cold and dead. White to the roots.

She closed her eyes when the whispers started seeping into their fear, and as always, before her there stretched a great gash in the clouds on which she, still an adolescent wrapped in sunlight, stood. Beneath that crevice she saw the island of the underwalkers. But she wasn't looking at them. Instead, all that filled her vision was the great, massive warrior lying like unwanted venison beside the hulking, grotesque, monstrous corpse of a Beanstalk. And the underwalkers were dancing. At their head, leading them on there stood a creature of pale flesh and golden hair. To others he might have looked like a child, beautiful and beaming. Aravis knew what he really was. The axe was still in his hands. That smiling, glittering face was the last thing she saw before the vision cleared and Aravis opened her eyes to the bar counter. 

Shards of metal and broken wood lay before her. Her hand was bloodied by purple ichor. Still lodged within the cut were some remains of the crushed tankard. But it was her eyes that were burning with pain.

The whispers had ceased. And so had the roar in her veins. She was ice.

Standing, she swept her cloak aside to rest both hands on her hips, her feet apart. She was taller now than she had been when she entered, and now the crest of her ringed headband just skimmed the ceiling. Everybody in the room cowered below her. It felt right.

"Indeed. I am a hunter. But what I'm after is not the reward of a slippery, stupid nobleman. It is justice. And it is mine alone." the low rasp of her voice grew full and round as pride swelled within, "as a daughter of the mighty Laestrygonians."

At the name of her folc, new horror trickled into slow running red blood all around her. So many eyes darted to the door, for escape. Many more became fixed on her lips or, more specifically, on the teeth that lay behind them. Aravis didn’t need to be a mind mage to know they were wondering how much mortal flesh had been shredded upon them. That stout bartender was the first to finish quivering.

"Who do you seek, great Giantess? I will tell you all that I know, just don't hurt any of my customers, I beg of you!" Ugh. Begging. Typical underwalkers.

"I'm hunt Prince Jack of Gaul. As I have for almost ten years." Voice rising such that everyone might hear, she let fear carry her words. "He has taken something very precious from me, many things in fact, and I intend to exact justice."

“But, he’s been missing over three years! Many young princes have been.” Aravis was well aware of that. So close. She had been so close she could see the ridiculous peak of his hair, illuminated under dragon fire. But the presence of one of the more powerful fae had forced to keep her distance. But she had him cornered. It was almost over. And then he was gone.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re back, now.” Every head turned back to the scholarly boy by the entrance. “Yeah, the entire Fearless-”

But Aravis was deaf to the world.

They’re back now. He’s back now. He’s back. Again, and again, and again. The sound of clouds being split down the middle and the shining eyes of the blonde, beautiful murderer. And dancing. Aravis’ eyes were filled with axes, ichor and dancing.

Her bident spear was in her hand one moment and whistling across the room the next. The boy- Tom Tom he’d been called- was pinned between its prongs like a fish, flailing and panicked. He grasped at the twin spikes which were twice as thick as his arm. As Aravis strode over, he just resisted going limp.

With her feelings crashing and shrieking in her head, Aravis paid no attention to the fact that the ceiling had splintered around it. She didn’t notice the splinters to timber that clawed at her waist, nor the frigid night air whipping her face as she waded through the bar like mud. People the size of dolls scurried for the exit, while the one she wanted remained pinned. Until she knelt down and gripped the long handle of her weapon, pushing it closer into his throat.

“Where?” Was all she managed. Everything inside was a storm that even she herself was becoming lost in.

“I- I don’t know! I was told by a friend!”

“WHERE?!” Her bellow ricocheted off the dark sky itself like thunder and the bident spear-head pressed harder against his trachea until he gasped for air.

“STONEBURY!” Violent sobs wracked his body but Aravis did not relent, “GLASS STONEBURY! MY FRIEND HORNER IS IN GLASS STONEBURY! HE CAN TELL YOU!”

Only then, with a grunt of dark satisfaction did she pull the spear from the wall, releasing him. With the first real, tangible feeling she had felt in years melting into her veins, she shrank back down until she was practically the same stature she had been when she had arrived. The bar’s roof was gone, allowing freezing wind to howl through. She cared not.

Aravis finished a drink that had been abandoned on a table in the panic. It was revolting, crude stuff, typical for underwalkers. But a smile was curled on her face regardless.

"What will you do once you find the prince? He's a hero, and has many powerful friends!" So the bartender had stayed, she hadn’t counted on that. She graciously turned to look at him, feeling lighter than she had in almost four years.

"Simple. I will rend his arms from his sides. I will cast his broken body across the air until each and every bone is ground into dust."

"They'll see you coming, people have already run to tell others of you."

"You speak as if I’d intended this to be a slaughter. You are wrong.” Aravis’ hood fell to the floor and her hand reached into her satchel. She sighed softly when her fingers met the gentle, rippling fabric of her cloak. Her mother’s cloak. “It’s an execution.” she pulled it free, letting it grow in size until it could wrap around her completely. Her legs and torso disappeared from sight. “And I must have him know his sentence.”

Turning, she vanished behind the concealment of the cloak and into the darkness of the night. The Engle Lands were solitary, located deep in the marshes of Fairytale Island. 

It wasn’t far to Glass Stonebury. And then all that was left was to find this Horner.

Just an intro that I couldn't get out of my head since creating Aravis (her name was Astrid originally). I kinda want to write a whole fic about this but I'm not sure since it would be pretty much all my ocs... I'm imagining basically zootopia but with a Giant princess and a bounty hunter.

Also ive already started about two big projects with no third chapter soooo.....

#beginning of something?? #maybe #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes movie #red shoes fanfic #hana writing #my ocs #standing on the shoulders of giants #SotSoG #red shoes fanfiction #horner appears in my gwen fic red cloak #the third chapter of that is in the works #schools just been pummeling recently #laestrygonians are the cannibal giants featured in the odyssey #they pretty kuch hav a culture that's 2/3 celtic 1/3 ancient greek #aravis #red shoes oc #giant oc

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #15: The Old House

words: ca. 6000 setting: 20th Century. Real world (with a twist) lemon: No cw: Some angst. Mentions of parent death. Referenced/implied child abuse.

“It’s time to go.”

She saw through the mist a hand, reaching out for her. Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens. The hand could not hold her. It slipped away. She called her parents’ names, or so she thought.

They found her moribund little body in the snow the next morning.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna woke up with a start, chest heaving.

It was dark in the hotel room. Her roommate— partner?— stirred groggily next to her.

“Anna? What’s wrong?” Her raspy voice asked. “Was it another nightmare.”

“No,” she lied. “I’m sorry. Y-you can go back to sleep.”

She could feel Elsa’s eyes on her.

“What do you need?” She asked. Her voice spread warmth across Anna’s chest.

“…I could really use a warm hug.”

Next thing she knew, a pair of arms were gathering her into an embrace. She tucked her head under Elsa’s chin and sighed.

It would be a long day, it seemed.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Arendelle was a small town on an island north of Norway. It was born as a fishing town in the 1890s and never changed its trajectory. Only a few dozen houses, a fish-oil refinery, the docks, one church, one school, one hotel, and an administrative building uphill. The people of Arendelle were rustic and gloomy, much like the weather they were brought up in: hail twice a week, snow in winter, and rain the rest of the time. In short: Arendelle hadn’t changed one bit since Anna left.

Being at the foot of the mountain, Arendelle’s surroundings were prone to avalanches, and the most recent one had taken place only a week back. It missed them by a few miles, but it opened up a door for archaeologists from the University of Bergen, who came to study what had been uncovered by the snow.

Anna wasn’t an archaeologist; she was a girl on a mission. She left while her grandfather slept, hopping into a cargo ship to travel north. Her passage was worth weeks of work. She hadn’t expected the sight of the town in the distance to hurt her as it did, so she kept her mind busy, and spent her days searching. 

The day things began to go downhill, she was, as always, searching for her parents’ bodies. 

She climbed up the mountains with her wooden stick and stabbed the snow with it, searching for something harder than mud. Bones, hopefully, although she was terrified of finding frozen flesh sticking to their cheekbones. The sky grew dark and cold, and Elsa would kill her if she arrived one minute too late, so she decided to turn back. She followed her own tracks towards the dig (where they let her sit by the ever-burning campfire as long as she wasn’t too noisy). The skeletal tree-branches rattled above. The wind whistled and swooshed sharply, blowing rough snow that clawed at her reddened cheeks. Her hands were numb even inside her pockets. Anna’s only comfort was thinking about Elsa’s arms around her. Not even the sight of Arendelle downhill quelled the chill.

Anna might be a born-Arendellian, but she grew up in the south of Norway. She was ill-prepared for the hostile North. 

However, if Elsa had taught her anything, was that even under the dark frozen sky there were objects of wonder.

As Anna trudged across the snow-sea which reached her mid-calf, something caught her eye. A narrow stone-wall led deep into the forest. Only two feet tall and falling apart already. Frost covered its surface. 

Her heart leaped. She deviated from her path without a second thought, legs racing, pulse and breath quickening with emotion.

The picture-stone came into view after. It lied deeper into the woods. A bow-shaped slab. Abstract ships, stick-people, reindeer herds gathered on it in a violent array of reds. Waves, antlers, and swords, a story carved in stone. A sacrifice.

And in the center, she found her.

There was something else to Arendelle.

“The Queen,” The hotel-butler had explained.

“The Queen of Norway?” Anna had asked, much to his amusement.

“No, the real Queen.”

The Snow Queen, who with her reindeer-pulled chariot cast a shadow of frost over every corner of the North. Her arms rose towards the sky, where her snowflake curled like clouds, like the winds she sent south. The slab was thirteen-foot-tall and rose high above Anna, with its depiction of the nordic spirit. Below her, was an inscription.

As it usually did, time halted. Anna’s throat dried, her eyes widened. She covered her mouth. She could no longer hear the sharp branch-rattling or wind-whistling over the sound of her own warm blood pounding in her ears. She no longer felt cold. 

She reached forward, tracing with a fingertip the carvings. 

The finds couldn’t be younger than seven hundred years old. Had it truly been that long? Oh, Anna could nearly feel the sculptor’s trembling hands, their warm breath. She placed a hand where someone else’s hands had once been. 

She searched for her journal inside her coat and scribbled down the runes she saw, as well as the stone and the wall she’d seen before.

Anna was no archaeologist— she wasn’t nearly smart enough—, but she understood why someone may choose this path. When she gazed upon this stone, it was as if there was no distance at all. 

The icy wind pushed against her, pulling her out of her haze. Yes! She began to stroll downhill. She’d prove her usefulness! She’d alert the scholars of the new find.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna and the archaeologists were two land mammals sharing the same habitat, only, while they searched with brushes and trowels, Anna searched with a wooden stick. As non-competitive species, they often shared the same space, considering they knew her story. Anna wasn’t sure why the scholars tolerated her, but maybe it was because she and Elsa were a package deal now.

As soon as she reached her destination, Elsa threw her arms around her shoulders, kissed her cheek, and asked:

“Are you alright?”

She pulled back, anxious eyes studied her from head to toe. Anna’s heart always swelled with adoration when she heard that voice.

“I am,” she soothed her. “Oh, Elsa, you won’t believe what I found!”

“Wait.” Elsa tugged her towards the campfire and caressed Anna’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You’re cold. Come here.”

Soon, they sat on a log before the magnificent dig. A farmstead, they’d said. Stone walls and a half-rotten roof still mostly standing, surrounded by icy farming grounds where lamb bones were found.

The more awe-inspiring part, of course, was that a family had lived there. The farmstead was someone’s home. Elsa had described the findings in length: a family of three. All of them Christians, and funnily enough, also sheepherders. Thirteenth century. The settlement of Árnadalr lied many kilometers south, but this family lived in solitude.

Anna now wore an extra coat, held a mug of cocoa in her hands, and had Elsa fussing over her like a mother hen.

“What took you so long? You could get lost out there! And you left your scarf behind again. Here, let me find it.”

“Well, aren’t you a protective one,” Anna teased her, sipping her drink. Elsa’s pale skin flushed.

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” she muttered.

Before Anna could snort and ask what that meant, Professor Mattias, who was in charge of the dig, intervened to ask about Anna’s findings in the woods. Her enthusiasm immediately reassured everyone that she brought good news, and while they couldn’t travel at night, they still celebrated in the hotel. They cheered with vodka at the charcoal-sketch of the picture-stone Anna had presented. Yes, she’d made herself useful.

As they congratulated her, Elsa remained silent.

The hotel was so old, half the lightbulbs didn’t work. There was only one phone, and a dozen residents lined up every day to make their thirty-minutes calls and clog up the narrow smelly corridor. Each curtain was half-eaten by moths; you’d be wise not to put your clothes in the closet. Three stories of dusty light, creaky stairways, and dirty cracked windows. You could hear every neighbor from three doors away, and the ice clawed down from the roof into a fang-curtain before every window. They offered only one blanket per bed, but Elsa had provided Anna with a woolen quilt on her first night. That had perhaps been the first step towards falling in love with her. Between paying for both of them and giving up her own warmth, Elsa had extended unconditional kindness towards Anna from day one. Maybe they’d been doomed from the start. 

“They’re out of single rooms,” she’d clarified upon Anna’s arrival. “And I’ve been paying for an empty bed for the past week. Please, I insist.”

It might have passed as simple pragmatism had Elsa not been Elsa. It wasn’t only about her treatment towards Anna, no, but about how she’d treat a stranger in need, that made Anna lose control of her heart. 

She asked her about her silence, in the light of their whale-oil lamp (their room’s electricity hadn’t worked since the ‘30s), as she tried to translate the runes with her journal and a book she’d grabbed from the local library.

“Is everything okay, Elsa?”

Elsa was sitting on her bed, silently combing her hair. She wore only her slip, which was quite distracting, but she didn’t have the intention of getting into bed, despite looking so tired.

At Anna’s words, she tilted her head.

“Why? Are you feeling poorly?”

Anna snorted.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“It’s nothing.”

Anna sighed. She closed the book and stared at Elsa.

“You never let me pull off this whole.. avoiding the subject thing,” she protested, and then extended an arm towards her, begging to come closer. A new anxious question settled on her tongue. “Are you…? Do you feel…? I mean, do you feel safe with me, Elsa? Like you can trust me?”

Elsa’s eyes studied her for one agonizing moment. She stood up. Well, they did only meet a month back. Weren’t they moving too fast? Her grandfather would certainly disapprove. 

“It’s not that,” Elsa murmured as she approached Anna. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and nuzzled the top of her head. She planted a kiss there, and Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “I do trust you.”

Anna saw her pale fingers brush over the pages of her journal. Her uncertain translation read:

This stone was raised in memory of Agðar and Iðunn, who met their end in their travels. Their daughter carved this stone.

“You’re becoming quite a good translator,” Elsa commented, and placed another kiss on Anna’s hair. Heat crept up to the tips of her ears.

“T-thank you,” she replied, as she ripped off the page and stored it in her folder, alongside all other translations and sketches she’d scribbled since her arrival: small runestones, illustrations of archaeological finds, and multiple petroglyphs of the Queen, all of which she’d shared with the archaeologists. “You’re an excellent translator as well! I mean, I suppose you are. You work at the dig, after all.”

Elsa hummed.

“I’m not an archaeologist. I’m only a volunteer.” she argued. “In fact, I believe you’ve been more helpful than me.” She flipped over a page. “The Snow Queen?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah,” Anna stammered. “Kind of a passion project.”

“For the Snow Queen?” Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”

“Well, legend has it she was single, right? Oh! Thy Majesty! Pardon my manners, but I shoult say thy bosom looks exquisite. Are thee by any chance in need of a shieldmaiden?”

A hand snaked around her waist. Anna shrieked as Elsa’s fingers dug into the sensitive spot. Between laughter and screeching, she curled on herself and tried to swat her hand away. 

“Come on,” Elsa laughed. “It’s getting late. And keep working on your performance. That’s not how people spoke back in the day.”

She ruffled Anna’s hair and strode back towards her bed, and— alright, she saw swaying her hips on purpose. 

Anna pulled her knees to her chest, placing her heels on the edge of the seat and hugging her legs.

“You said you grew up here, right?”

“More or less, yes. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering. About the Snow Queen, you know.”

“What about her?”

“…That’s what I meant to ask.”

Elsa sighed. She rubbed her eyes.

“Just… some fairy tale,” she dismissed it, with a wave of her hand. “To make children behave. If you were nasty, a monster would feel your frozen heart and take you to her palace.”

“Was it a nice palace, at least?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was quite obedient growing up.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

Elsa chuckled, and Anna’s heart fluttered with affection.

“I was!” she insisted, giving Anna a mischievous look. “But no. I don’t think it was a nice place. In fact, they say everything about the Queen was cruel and horrible. She never seemed like girlfriend material to me.”

“You think?” Anna asked. “I don’t know. Maybe she was lonely.”

Elsa cast her eyes down, lips curling into a melancholic smile.

“Well, I doubt even she could resist your charms.”

With a delicate finger, she pulled Anna’s hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Now the heat was in Anna’s stomach, in her chest, in the way Elsa gazed at her with such an unexpected adoration, she couldn’t help but to raise her head and kiss her lips. Elsa sighed contentedly, her hand cradling the back of Anna’s neck. Her mind spun around as their lips brushed together. 

Then Elsa pulled away, with a pensive expression. She bit her lip.

“Tell you what,” she said, grasping Anna’s hands. “Come with me tomorrow. I want to show you something.”

Anna grinned. That was good enough for her. She’d wait for Elsa to speak in her own terms and time. 

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

“That’s the thing,” she remembered her grandfather say, when she was seven. “I doubt they got lost. We would have found the bodies by now. I bet the reason they’re gone is because they didn’t want to deal with the responsibility, so they thrusted it on me.”

Anna woke again. Her hands trembled.

That had been a lie. 

That had to be a lie. 

He had always lied, hadn’t he? Maybe he just despised her.

Yes, she’d find them and prove him wrong. 

They loved her. They were dead.

Thankfully, Elsa wasn’t disturbed by her pathetic dreams. Anna was surprised she still put up with her, but it was better not to take risks.

She grabbed her coat and got ready for the day.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Elsa guided her through the lonely snow-sea of the mountains in the dark winter morning. The Queen seemed to have it against them, because she blew her snow all over and made them struggle to climb up the hills. 

“Um… Elsa? How much until we get there?” Anna asked, as she could no longer feel her toes.

“Not much,” Elsa absently replied. Her eyes drifted all over the hills. She grasped Anna’s hand and pulled her along. 

The cliffs overlooking Arendelle were a dark shadow in the distance, but they gained definition as both women approached. They didn’t draw a 90 degrees angle with the ground— rather, the earth elevated slowly, in bumps and rocky points, rising like a heavy breath towards the cliff’s foot. It was a rather secluded spot, where the snow didn’t hit as harshly. There they could rest until the time to search came again.

Yet Elsa had other plans. She toiled forward, along the cliff-wall, until the runestones came into view.

Blood-red lines coiled around the edges of a small stone plate, only half as tall as Anna herself. It protruded from near the foot of the cliff, high above. They exchanged a quick look.

“Can you read what it says?” Asked Elsa. Anna cringed thinking about her rune-reading skills.

“I can try?” She vacillated. Looking up, she read: “…Sif and Afvaldr erected this stone in memory of Nafni, son of Ulfarr, father of Afvaldr and husbandman of Sif, who met his end fighting the snow.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She saw Elsa grin from the corner of her eye.

“Anna,” she tugged at her hand. “Look.”

Anna followed the direction of Elsa’s finger, and saw extending into the distance a trail of stones with engravings on them. Small, big, at some points more spaced out than in others. They followed the length of the cliff-wall like a series of little stars, so tiny under the mountain’s shadow.

Anna’s throat tightened with emotion. 

She stepped towards the next stone. This one had a cross on it.

“Feykir and his daughter, Esja, had this stone raised in memory of Rjúpa, Feykir’s wife and Esja’s mother, who was taken by the wicked snow. May God help her spirit.”

This one was close enough to touch. Anna traced the edge of the cross with a finger. 

“How did you know this place?” She asked.

“Oh, you know.” Elsa shrugged. “This is my home.”

Many of the stones were cenotaphs, Elsa explained. No one was buried beneath this soil, but they might as well be, because each of these people, with names and loved ones, felt only a breath away.

“Bersa raised this stone in memory of Ilmr, her father’s sister. She was killed when trying to kill the snow.”

Anna’s breath grew heavier. She scrutinized these patterns, these strange writings, for several hours; they all dated to this wicked, living, killing snow.

Her heart vigorously pounded warm blood into her fingertips.

Then, she spotted a particular runestone. It was the greatest one of all, far away from the others, and it sported the same figure she’d seen only a day before; the Snow Queen with her arms towards the sky. Around her coiled a serpent with words on its skin.

In her blind excitement, Anna hastily climbed over rocks until she reached it. Elsa followed closely behind. 

“Do you know what it says?” Elsa asked when she reached her.

Anna squinted at the words. Its inscription was the longest she’d seen so far.

“It says… Agðar and Iðunn came from the south. It was with them that the snow came.” She stepped to the side, to read the following line. “It was their daughter that brought the evil, with which she could slay a hundred men in… Árnadalr? So… um… Crap. I don’t know what it says here.”

She turned around, expecting to find Elsa willing to lend a hand, but her expression was painted by an unexpected sadness.

Anna’s stomach sank a little.

“Elsa?”

Elsa lowered her head.

“It says they killed her,” she explained. Anna squinted.

“She was real?”

“So it seems.”

“The Snow Queen? No. That’s… too much even for Arendelle. Besides, vikings wrote a lot of weird stuff, right?”

“It’s what the stone tells.” Elsa pointed out. “I know I said it was only a tale last night, but…”

“Wait. Agðar and Iðunn?” Anna checked the names on the stone again. “Were they…? Oh, Elsa… She really was real. And her parents…”

“…Yes. Agðar and Iðunn were the names of the people who lived in the dig,” Elsa clarified.

“So, the Snow Queen… she…” Anna looked at the carvings in stone again. Despair seized her heart. “Oh, no, Elsa. She had a family. They… Oh, goodness…”

A family, yes, one the Snow Queen had missed very much, enough to raise a stone in their memory. To think about this loss, this pain that she thought she knew even if she wasn’t quite sure, tore her heart in half. 

Her eyes watered. 

“I don’t think she was a monster.”

There was… a long history of death and pain in that family, wasn’t it?.

She heard Elsa breathe behind her. 

“Anna, there’s…”

She dropped whatever it was she was about to say when she noticed the mist behind Anna’s eyes.

“I really hope I find my parents,” she murmured, then furiously rubbed her eyes. “D-did I ever tell you what happened to them?”

She could feel Elsa’s pain-stricken gaze on her.

“If that’s something you want to do, I’ll listen.”

Anna nodded. Her throat constricted. 

“There was a storm,” she recalled. “I don’t remember what happened very well. I-I can’t even remember their names, and my grandfather won’t tell me, and besides…”

“He won’t?”

“Yeah, so I think I got lost, because I couldn’t see them anywhere. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. My grandfather adopted me afterwards.”

“But you’re the one searching for the bodies?”

“What can I say?” Anna shrugged and forced a crooked smile. “Guess he didn’t want to… unbury any painful memories.”

“He didn’t care to find his son?”

“…Or you could put it like that, too.” She wiped her eyes, looking down. “I think I’m beginning to understand him, though.”

Elsa squinted.

“How come?”

“Well…” She kicked the snow at her feet. “He told me once they’d left me in the snow. I like to think I actually got lucky, but I…” She shook her head. “I feel so selfish, Elsa. Like I want them to be dead, just so I can know they didn’t abandon me.”

“They didn’t,” Elsa blurted out with a thick voice. “Anna, your family loved you.”

“Then I shouldn’t be looking for them like this.”

Her voice sounded pathetic even to her.

She brought her hands together, and carefully leaned against Elsa.

“What are you going to do, then?”

She sucked in a ragged breath.

“I don’t know,” Anna admitted. “I don’t wanna go home. My grandfather…”

“Does he hurt you?”

“He’s never hit me.”

Elsa’s arm snaked around her waist.

“What will you do?” Anna then asked, trying to shift the attention from herself. “After the dig is over, I mean. You’ve lived your whole life here, right?”

“In a way.”

“Will you stay?”

That was a difficult question. Elsa could imply she’d leave her and neither of them would know, because Anna didn’t know what she’d do, either. Maybe she’d be the one to leave Elsa.

Elsa closed her eyes.

“I don’t know. Arendelle brings a lot of memories, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Then Elsa lowered her gaze. Screwed her eyes shut. She pulled away from Anna and wrapped both arms around herself.

“Let’s just go back,” she said curtly. Anna’s heart weighed heavily in her chest— from thinking of her family, from thinking about the Queen, from this sudden rejection—, but she respected Elsa’s space. Had she done something to scare her away? Oh, she surely must have.

They climbed down from the hills even though Anna’s toes were freezing. The mountains made her feel hopeless but so did the sight of Arendelle, and with Elsa walking several feet before her, not even glancing back, Anna felt as though there was no respite from this tired heaviness. She wanted nothing but to curl into a ball and sleep. 

Just before they entered the town, Elsa stopped.

“Anna… listen.” She began. Her tone made Anna’s shoulders droop. “I-I can’t keep doing this. We can’t.”

Anna’s heart quivered.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean… this has to end.” She raised her shoulders to her ears. Avoided Anna’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry. Goodbye, Anna.”

Her heart cracked open. Anna shook her head.

“What? W-why?” She shouldn’t feel this surprised. “Did… did I do something? I’m so sorry if I did. Just…”

The pain behind Elsa’s eyes was indescribable.

“No.” She interrupted. “It wasn’t you. Just… please. I can’t say it right now.”

Anna wanted to reply (to scream, cry, seize her hands and not let go), but words failed her as Elsa turned her back to her and entered Arendelle.

As simple as that, Anna was alone. 

She didn’t begin to cry until Elsa was out of sight, like a pathetic little child. 

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

During her last night in Arendelle, Anna dreamed of her sister.

Yes, she’d had a sister, and even though she didn’t remember her name or face she remembered she’d loved her, once. She remembered holding her hand and running in the snow, building snowmen and drinking chocolate with her. The affection and tenderness lingered after, as if carved on stone.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

"Anna, wait.”

Her breath and heart came to a halt. Turning around, she found her standing there, in her blue dress and gripping a rucksack. Her expression was both serious and desperate; pained. She raised a hand as if to grasp Anna’s.

“Oh. Elsa,” Anna blurted. The need to cover her face nearly overpowered her. “Uh… Hello.”

Elsa took her acknowledgment as a cue to come closer. Two long steps and a stare, just for a moment; and Anna understood she didn’t know what she was doing, either. Did she intend to apologize for being brusque? Her approach seemed to indicate so. It wouldn’t be unlike her. Anna was willing to accept and move on if that was the case, but truth was, she didn’t deserve an apology when she’d been the one in the wrong.

However, Elsa looked anything but angry.

Rather, her blue eyes drifted over to the ship in port; the sea. Her throat bobbed up and down.

“I suppose we’ll be leaving in the same ship,” she pointed out with a lopsided smile. Anna tried to smile back. 

“Yep. So it seems.”

“Though I believe we’re early,” continued Elsa. “I was wondering if you cared for a walk in town.”

Anna looked to the side. 

“Elsa, I… don’t know.”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she insisted. “I know. I know. Y-you don’t have to listen to me. But I promise I’ll explain everything, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Elsa, there’s nothing to explain,” Anna reassured her. “You just… don’t feel the same way I do. That’s normal. I’m not mad, you know.”

Elsa shook her head.

“That’s not it,” she insisted. “It's… more complicated than that. Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this ever since I found you.” She wrung her hands together and looked down. “I just hope you’ll believe me when I’m done.”

Regret and desperation were draped over her posture like a heavy cloak, dragging her down. Even when hurt, Elsa still made her heart skip a beat with every gesture of kindness, and this one was no exception. Both her lovestruck haze and her intellectual curiosity compelled her to give Elsa a chance. 

She picked up her bag and extended her arms to the sides.

“I’m all ears.”

Elsa’s grin reminded her of why she loved her. 

“Really?”

“Yep! One-hundred-per-cent. Now, hurry up!”

Elsa sighed in relief. She placed a hand on her chest.

“Alright. Come with me.”

She led her out of the port and into town. Despite having spent the last few months in Arendelle, Anna wasn’t eager to revisit it, but it was different when she knew that’d be the last time she’d see it. She spotted the playground where she and her sister had played (her big sis always hugged her from behind when they went down the slide, because it wasn’t fun going alone), and saw the place where they bought cod and salmon on the weekends. The little kindergarten she’d attended had closed down, but the building still stood. Most streets hadn’t been paved. Mud stuck to her boots. The sky was still white and cold, the houses dull, and the people as austere and uncaring as they’d always been. 

“When I was little,” Elsa began. “My family and I were hiding from a very dangerous man. Of course, I didn’t know that until I was much older. At the time it all felt like a game of hide and seek. We left the mainland, and when that wasn’t enough, we went even further.” She gulped. “We crossed a line that night, and someone else suffered the consequences.”

Anna bit her lip but didn’t interrupt. She feared any disturbance may break the spell and chase Elsa away.

“Anna, what do you remember from the dig?”

“There was a family. With a kid. The Snow Queen. And… her parents died.” Anna recounted. “Is that it? You were reminded of your family?”

“…I was, yes,” replied Elsa. “Anna…”

Was that it? Had it been a dumb case of miscommunication? Of course! She’d been so stupid. Neither of them had been in the right place back then, but now they were, and they could sort out the problem. Perhaps, Elsa didn’t hate her.

Only then Anna realized they were standing before the old house.

Her stomach sank. Her breath hitched and a shiver ran down her spine, mouth hanging ajar. She stepped back.

“Oh, no,” she heard Elsa mumble. 

The house was still made of wood, although it had lost its color. Two stories. A window was broken and so was one of the steps leading up to the entrance. From inside came the smell of dust and rust and rot.

“Anna?”

She looked at Elsa, and couldn’t find the words to beg or cry or scream, but she didn’t need to because Elsa didn’t ask questions. She held her reluctant gaze for a moment and then she nodded, stepped forward, and took Anna’s hand. 

She managed to hold her composure and lead Elsa inside. 

The house had been empty for thirteen years, and it had collected dust and spiderwebs over time. It still felt like home, though. A cold fireplace, where Mama often sang to them, or the rocking chair by the windows, where Papa sat to tell bedtime stories.

Anna’s ribcage unlocked with force. She exhaled shakily and blinked the blurriness away.

Elsa was dreadfully silent, but her thumb caressed Anna’s knuckles. This gave her the strength to climb up the stairs towards her old bedroom. The window was so dirty, you could barely see at all. Nearly all the furniture was gone, save for a pitiful nightstand.

“Anna?”

Anna placed both palms on the nightstand and screwed her eyes shut.

“W-would you tell me about your family? Please?”

She did not have a family to embrace her but perhaps she could bask in the comfort of someone else’s warmth.

“My father was a physicist. My mother was a historian,” continued Elsa. “A-and I had a little sister. Even then, I loved her with everything I was.”

The drawer was stuck. Anna struggled with it.

“W-we never meant to leave her behind.” Elsa’s breathing was laborious. “But there was a blizzard; a small avalanche. And she got lost. We tried to go back for her but it was too late. We’d already reached the other side.”

The wood made a horrible rattling noise, but it eventually gave in under Anna’s strength.

“To this day I still don’t understand how such a thing could happen. We spent thirteen years trying to go back, a-and my parents didn’t make it. The people in town saw something in me. They feared me, and I never knew why. I-I didn’t mean to scare them. My parents tried to find a way back, but they—they didn’t make it. I-I took care of them myself. Gave them a proper…” her voice cracked horribly. “T-they deserved to see her again, yet only three years later the very same window opened itself to me. I didn’t cross it. In fact, it crossed over me.”

Inside the drawer was a single photo frame. Anna picked it in her trembling hands.

“Elsa…”

“I was happy. I was back, after so long. And then I found my little sister, too. I can’t describe the way I felt when I saw her again, all grown up after thirteen years.”

Anna traced a finger around her sister’s childish face on the frame’s glass.

“Elsa, I…”

“But then, I began to feel… something else. I thought I was just… happy to have her back, even if I hadn’t dared to tell her the truth. But I was wrong. What I felt… scared me. I wanted to be with her all the time, but I couldn’t stand to look at her face. I felt disgusting. I-I still do.”

Anna put the frame down, and studied her sister from head to toe. The same blue eyes, snow-like hair. The same gentle features but also the same inner strength her broken little mind still remembered. Her thoughts were no longer made of words; she couldn’t hear them over the blood pounding in her ears— her heart would jump out of her chest at any moment. They had all come to a halt as her brain processed Elsa’s words. Her sister. Her sister, who had been away for so long, who was now back, who had taken care of their parents’ burial alone and who still made Anna feel like the most loved person in the world.

Her heart made up its mind. She threw her arms around Elsa’s neck.

“Oh, Elsa…” she breathed, and choked back a sob. “You’re not disgusting. Please, don’t ever say that. I love you.”

Her sister. She was back, from beyond time. She was the same girl who tucked Anna into bed back then. She’d taken care of baby sheep yet she saw herself through monstrous lenses. The Snow Queen, in love with her little sister, who one day vanished from her farmstead and was never seen again. Who raised a stone in memory of their parents, for people hundreds of years later to remember them. This girl with a quivering body, holding Anna in her arms.

A tear ran down Anna’s cheek.

“I realized that, regardless of how I felt, I would lose you again if I didn’t tell you,” Elsa whispered. “That’s all that matters. We can forget about whatever it is that I feel. That’s alright by me.”

Anna shook her head against her sister’s shoulder.

“Well, g-good thing it doesn’t have to come down to that, right?” Anna chuckled wetly. She slowly pulled back, and found her sister’s hands in hers.

“Even now that you know the truth?” Elsa closed her eyes. “No. It isn’t right.”

“What are you talking about? Elsa, can’t you see? I love you. I… will need some time to wrap my head around this, but… All these years, I thought I was alone, b-but I wasn’t! You and Mama and Papa were always out there. You were even searching for me! A-and now I have you back, and… Oh my Goodness, I got my sister back… A-and she’s in love with me.”

Anna hesitated for only one second. For some reason, she could believe her, almost without trying. Her sister, yes, it wasn’t normal, but after walking across time and back– after losing her for so long, normal was out the window for her. She wouldn’t lose her, in one way or the other.

“I’m sorry.” Elsa murmured.

“What? Elsa, have you met you?” Anna spluttered, then laughed. “Not everyone is lucky enough to say their sister loves them this much.” She stood on tip-toes and pressed her lips to Elsa’s— her sister’s— her family’s. The warmth that spread inside her body felt natural, and it did so even more when a hand cupped the back of her neck. She pulled back after a moment. “We have time to figure things out, Elsa,” she said. “Y-you’ll come with me, right? You’ll give me a chance?”

Her sister’s eyes brimmed with tears. Her hand tucked a strand of red hair behind Anna’s ear. 

“I’m scared, Anna,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ll stay with you. I promise.”

Anna grinned like a lovestruck fool.

“We’ll figure it out together,” she reassured her. Then a siren came from the port, echoing through Arendelle. They exchanged a smile. Anna stole one more peck before Elsa could speak.

“Are you satisfied? Shall we go now?” Elsa giggled.

They made it outside the house, and once outside, the brightness blinded Anna for an instant. When she inhaled the fresh ocean air, she felt as if she could float. The damp, heavy odor of the house no longer clung to her lungs. 

She looked back. The house hadn’t changed. Its wood was still colorless and empty of life. It was completely empty.

“Anna?”

Her sister stood next to her, more beautiful than she remembered. She looked at her with all the love in the world.

The siren blared again.

Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens. 

Anna grasped her sister’s hand.

“Come on,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds #cw: angst #cw: death #cw: child abuse

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Bonus Chapter 7

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 20,116

Chapter Rating: PG-13...ish! Me being the very easily flustered writer that I am, I can tell you right now that no OVERLY graphic sexy things happen and there is a fade to black at the end, so it is all still fairly tame. But still, there is a lotta sexy innuendo and talk of sexy, ahem… ITEMS. Just wanted to drop a heads up since the rest of my story up to this point has been fairly PG for the most part, so didn’t want to blind side anyone!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Baby, all I want for Christmas is you."

Rayne stumbled a bit as she pushed the double stroller along, blowing out an amused little pft through her teeth. "Please, please tell me he did not actually say that!"

I sighed, hanging my head as I kept stride next to her, "He did. When I asked him for gift ideas, those were his exact words."

Anna erupted into laughter beside me, gripping my arm for support. "Dear lord, have I ever mentioned what a friggin' cliché, cheesy cornball your man is?"

"Not to mention no help at all," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "This is like Lea's birthday all over again. I mean, I know the stuff he likes, but honestly... what do you get for the man that buys everything and anything he wants for himself the second he sees it?"

"Don't worry, pumpkin," Rayne reached over to pat a comforting hand to my shoulder. "We wander around here long enough, something's sure to jump out at us eventually!"

"I hope so," I grimaced, not feeling so confident myself as we pressed onward through the crowded mall. I'd just gotten off my morning shift at the Ice Palace not too long ago and was still in my uniform minus the hat. It seemed I wasn't the only one who had to do some last minute holiday shopping, for that was the exact reason my sister and best friend had met up with me here as soon as I'd clocked out. With Christmas only a week away however, Dusk Town Center was understandably packed nearly to bursting. Merchandise was all but flying off the shelves in every store. Even if by some miracle I did manage to find the perfect gift here today, with my luck it'd probably be completely out of stock and backordered for months.

Gah, I shouldn't have kept putting this off for so long! But I had been racking my brain for weeks now for what to get him and had come up with zilch. Still had zilch. Ugh…

Last-minute-panicked-impulse-shopping don't fail me now!

Anna suddenly gasped and stopped walking. I took a few more steps before I slowed as well, glancing back at her with one eyebrow quirked. Her eyes weren't focused on me however as a slow grin spread across her face. "...what if we took Lea's words literally?"

Rayne and I exchanged a quick look. She shrugged, seemingly just as in the dark as I was. As mall traffic kept flowing unperturbed around us, my gaze settled on Anna once more and I snorted with a shake of my head, "What, you mean just put me under the tree gift-wrapped with a bow for Christmas morning?"

"Something like that, Sis," she giggled, suddenly latching on to my arm once more but now with a surprisingly strong grip.

Uh-oh… that impish gleam in her eye was making me nervous...

"Oh-ho, I see where she's going with this," Rayne sniggered before shifting the stroller over to be in front of me instead. "Here, take this." I blinked, my fingers automatically closing around the handlebar. Then she had seized hold of my other arm.

Oh gosh, her devilish little smirk was making me really, really nervous…

The ladies nodded at each other in unison in some unspoken agreement then without warning took off sprinting. I gasped and tripped over my own two feet, but managed to stay up right as I was dragged along with them. The sea of people parted for the stroller bearing two laughing infants like they were a friggin' pair of tiny Moses and we had zero trouble getting through, making a beeline straight for-

My eyes widened, "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Anna cackled, tightening her hold on my arm.

I futilely dug my heels in, trying to put on the brakes. "No, no, no!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Rayne answered in glee.

There was no use fighting it. This was happening. Like it or not, I had no choice but to charge headlong into a little shop known as…

...Esmeralda's Secrets.

I had just been forcibly manhandled into literal Underwear Hell. Everywhere as far as the eye could see, things were lacy… things were silky…

...things were fluffy.

Egads, the horror. The fluffy, fluffy, neon pink, leopard-printed utter horror.

I squeaked, squeezing my eyes closed and burying my face into my hands. I was almost surprised my palms didn't burn from how badly my cheeks were roasting.

I heard a chuckle from Rayne as I felt her trying to gently pry my fingers away from my eyes. "Don't play coy, sweetie, we're all grown-ups here! You act like you've never been in an adult happy fun-time store to buy some lingerie before!"

"Maybe because I haven't!" I dropped my hands to fix her with a hard stare. Instead, the recipient of my said stare turned out to be a mannequin in something skimpy, leathery and with far too many buckles. "Oh dear," I muttered, somehow managing to blush even harder as I looked away and held a hand up to block my line of sight to it.

"Really, Sis? You've never been in one of these places? Not ever, not even once?" Anna snerked, shaking her head. The sheer disbelief coloring her voice led me to believe that she had been in this type of store before. This was not a realization I was comfortable with. "But you're so…" she whistled, winking one eye shut as her hands traced an hour-glass figure in the air before me. "...and Lea's so…" now she trilled her tongue against the roof of her mouth, eyebrows bouncing as she mimed pouncing with curled, wriggling fingers. "...ya know what I mean?"

...was it sad that I did in fact know exactly what she meant?

Scrunching my eyes shut as I pressed my fingers between my eyebrows, I puffed out a low sigh. Then, rather awkwardly (scratch that... very, very awkwardly), I explained, "...while it's… true that we're quite, er… active in that, hrm… department… we, uh… r-rather, that is to say, lingerie is a particular… bedroom... adventure we've yet to have as of, um… as of yet."

I couldn't believe this was actually a conversation I was having with my baby sister.

She brightened. "Well then thank your lucky stars cuz I've just handed you the perfect Christmas present on a silver platter! You're welcome!"

I tipped my head to one side with a dubious frown. "...really?" Plucking a hanger bearing an intricate, ruffled bra from a nearby rack, I wrinkled my nose at it before putting it back. "Doesn't seem like it'd be the most meaningful, heartfelt gift…"

"Please!" Rayne batted a hand through the air with a snort. "It's not like it's an anniversary or anything, it's Christmas - a consumer holiday glorified by the big corporations to weasel as much munny as they can outta us! Not every gift has to be thoughtful and profound, you're allowed to just have a lil fun with it sometimes!"

"Still… I don't know…" I said slowly as my gaze wandered against my will towards a nearby case filled with… ah, hm… shall we say, recreational items? I quickly averted my eyes.

"How 'bout we just peruse a bit, 'kay? No harm in that!" Rayne grinned as she steered the stroller further into the store.

"Yeah, Sis, just let us peruse!" Anna beamed as she linked her arm in mine once more and tugged me into a stumbling walk.

I pressed my lips together into a thin line and said nothing as I let her guide me along. I mean, did I even have a choice? Really? Maybe the sooner I stopped arguing, the sooner we could get this whole embarrassing ordeal over with and leave.

As I let my eyes idly drift from one frilly garment to the next, I did have to begrudgingly concede that Anna and Rayne might actually be onto something here with the lingerie idea. Don't get me wrong, Lea had never made me feel pressured to, er… "dress up" for the occasion or anything like that. It was never even really a conversation we'd ever had, so honestly it wasn't something I'd particularly given much thought to before this very moment. That said, I could hardly see him being exactly opposed to the idea either. Far from it, in fact…

Thus why it might just make the perfect Christmas surprise.

Anna abruptly pulled us to an unexpected stop in front of another customer, drooping her eyelids at the individual as she informed him, "You know that'd be more of a Christmas gift for you than for her, right?"

The gentleman in question paled, choking back a startled, "Huh?" and looking rather guilty as he stood there with the sheer, sparkly spaghetti-strapped thong dangling from his fingers that'd he'd been mulling over.

Rayne stepped up beside us, parking her stroller with it aimed directly at the guy as she deadpanned, "For shame! My babies judge you!"

He blinked, glancing down at the infants. Cayde and Aria squealed and burbled back. Turning bright red and dropping the underwear, he made a hasty retreat out of the shop.

"Haha, yes! That was too fun, Ray-Ray!" Anna snickered, giving her a high five. As I pinched the bridge of my nose with a tiny shake of my head, Anna asked, "What?"

I grumbled, "Being in a lingerie store by myself would be mortifying enough, but it's just now dawning on me how utterly ridiculous it is that I'm in here with my sister and a mom who brought her two babies."

"Psh, they're fine with it," Rayne brushed off, redirecting her gaze to someone nearby who seemed to work here. "Excuse me, Miss, you're fine with my tots being here, right?"

The woman turned to face us with a warm smile. She had long, wavy raven hair, eyes as green and sparkly as emeralds, and the kind of figure that would probably be pictured in a dictionary next to the word "voluptuous." In short, exactly the kind person any boss who ran a lingerie store would be positively thrilled to hire as an employee. She hummed a soft laugh as she waved a finger in greeting to the twins, "Of course! I actually have a kid of my own back home… Djali looks to be just about their age, maybe a few months older. Anyway, I completely understand and have no problem at all with you bringing them in here."

"Told ya," Rayne smugly razzed her tongue in victory at me.

And this prime example of maturity was a parent, folks.

Rolling my eyes but fighting a grin, I then glimpsed the worker's name tag and furrowed my brow. "Wait… you're Esmeralda?" I blinked a couple times. "...that's not just a fancy name they put on the store sign?"

"Nope! I own and operate this lil business," the woman smiled proudly now.

"Well then, Esmeralda, I hafta ask…" one corner of Anna's lips turned up as she leaned to whisper conspiratorially, "What's your secret?"

A little snort escaped her nose before she gestured back towards the front of the store, "Not letting creeps like that get to me."

Looking out the shop windows back into the mall proper, we now all spotted a rather sinister-looking old man standing out there who seemed to be… protesting? He was holding up a sign aimed directly at this little boutique bearing in big, bold letters the words (and I kid you not): SINNERS, REPENT. Other mall shoppers were giving the man a wide berth as he just stood there a few feet away from the entrance into here, glaring. Gosh, how had we not seen him on our way in? Maybe he'd arrived after us.

"Ugh," Rayne scrunched up her nose in distaste at the sight of the man. "What's ol' Skeezy McSkeezerson's problem?"

"He's just some religious nutjob who thinks my little," up came her fingers to provide air quotes, "den of iniquity here is ruining the wholesome, family friendliness of the mall. Ignore Frollo, he's harmless."

Anna raised an eyebrow, "You're chummy enough with that gnarly bag of bones to know his name?"

Chuckling, Esmeralda shrugged, "Kind of hard not to know it, what with him harassing me every morning when I come to open shop and every night when I lock up. Luckily, he's not brave enough to follow me inside, probably too afraid he'll fall victim all this sin and debauchery hanging on the racks. This place is my sanctuary," she glanced around with a contented sigh. Then she clapped her hands together once, flashing her best customer service smile now. "But that's enough talk about that! Is there anything I can help you lovely ladies out with today?"

"Perhaps you can assist my beautiful bestie here by helping her pick out some sexy underwear for her to show off to her man," Rayne beamed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "You'll hafta forgive her, she's a tad clueless cuz she's a bit of a lingerie virgin."

"Hmmmmm," Esmeralda slowly circled me as she tapped a curled finger to chin. I felt a heat rising to my face once again under such scrutiny and I began fidgeting with my braid. "...yes, I can already picture a few of my items that could suit you perfectly. But first, tell me a little about your beau - do you think he could handle being subjected to some of our more…" she paused, a sly little gleam flitting across her eyes now as she smirked, "...risqué outfits?"

Forget him, I don't think I could handle being subjected to some of their more risqué outfits!

Before I could respond however, Anna chimed in with, "Oh don't worry, Lea can handle them! Trust me, he's as red blooded and virile as they come!"

"Anna!" I gasped, horrified as I strangled my braid harder.

She gave my shoulder a light, playful shove, "C'mon, Sis, you think I can't friggin' hear you two going at it whenever I spend the night on your living room couch?"

I nearly tore my braid straight out of my scalp.

Face? What face? No, I no longer had one and in its place now was nothing but a raging inferno.

"I- He- We- Tha-" I spluttered and stammered, unable to complete a coherent thought, much less sentence.

"Aw, I think you broke her," Rayne cooed with a little giggle, patting me on the head.

Esmeralda had already set to work, drifting from one rack to the next, seemingly knowing exactly where to find each thing she was looking for as she quickly and efficiently riffled through the garments, plucking up hangers here and there to toss over her arm before moving to the next one. Before long, she'd returned to stand in front of me with an assortment of delicates neatly stacked in the crook of her elbow. "I've picked out a few options for you for starters, just let me know if you see any you'd like to try on." With that, she held up the first one.

...I did not understand what I was even looking at here. Like, at all. Was she holding it upside down?

Though I made no comment, my expression must have told her everything. "Alright, not your cup of tea. Moving along," she smiled good-humoredly as she set that one aside and lifted up another one for me to look at.

Good lord, was that supposed to be lingerie or a net? The thing was more holes than fabric. Just how many limbs did they think I had?

Tucking that one away as well, she laughed, "Take it that one's a no too. Don't worry, I have a good feeling about this next one." She showed it to me and…

...actually? It wasn't too distressing.

No, it was actually a rather classy and tasteful kind of sexy, with its silk and its hint of lace and its overbust corset in a deep, rich blue.

I hesitated with a thoughtful frown before reaching a hand out to gingerly take it from her. Cheeks still simmering away, I pursed my lips to one side as I considered it for a few seconds longer, then mumbled, "You said something about being able to try them on?"

Esmeralda smiled brightly. "Follow me, I'll take you to a fitting room."

As she started leading me towards the back, I was suddenly halted in my tracks when I heard, "Sis! Sis!" My eyebrows knit together as I turned my head towards Anna's voice. I spotted her over by one of the wall shelves, holding something up high over her head and waving it about with an almost manic glee as Rayne smothered snickers into her hand beside her. "You should get this for Lea too!"

It took me a second to realize what it was she had in her hand, but when I did, every last drop of blood in my body came hurtling up into my face.

"No!" I shouted across the store. "No way! I am not buying that!"

I bought it.

But only because Anna wouldn't stop pestering me about the stupid thing until I did.

I hadn't been able to bring myself to gift-wrap it with the lingerie that I'd also ended up purchasing. Heck, I'd barely been able to bring myself to wrap the lingerie itself, but what exactly else could I have done? Surprised him with it by just walking into the bedroom wearing it? Please, as if I could ever be so bold - I'd practically burst into flames from all the blushing I'd been doing just wrapping the dang thing. As for the other thing, I'd just panicked and hid it away wedged between the bedframe and underside of our mattress for the time being until I could figure out something else to do with it.

Thankfully, I'd also managed to come up with a second gift to give Lea. In a sudden surge of inspiration out of the blue, I'd gotten the idea to get him a vintage movie reel projector. I could just picture him getting all excited about collecting all of his cheesy classics he loved so much in their original format so we could watch them "the way they were meant to be watched" or something like that. Finding one used online hadn't been all that difficult or expensive, not to mention thank goodness for overnight shipping! The device itself was big but not all that heavy, almost shockingly so - I'd easily been able to lug it around myself for getting it all wrapped and whatnot.

So there my two presents sat in the living room as Christmas Eve dawned, beneath a tiny yet festively decorated tree that we had to constantly keep Marshmallow from trying to eat. It was hard to blame the giant fuzzball though really - now almost fully grown, Marshmallow was bigger than the dinky little pine so was it any real wonder that he seemed to consider it his new favorite chew toy?

In any case, me getting Lea more than one gift seemed to have worked out for the best as it hadn't slipped my notice that he'd also gotten me a couple things that were currently nestled there at the base of that tree. Our small cluster of presents were really only there for the sake of appearances at the moment. We weren't going to be here on Christmas day itself. We were in fact just a few minutes away from hitting the road to spend the holidays in my family's sizable cabin tucked away up in the snowy mountains surrounding Arendelle. Luckily, the only actual relatives that would be there were Anna and Saïx, with the rest of the guest rooms being filled out by a handful of our friends we'd invited to join us for the holidays. In any case, all we had left to do before we departed was finish getting dressed, wrap up packing with a few last minute supplies, toss the presents into the car trunk, wrangle Marshmallow into the backseat and then we'd be off.

Thus my mild surprise when just as I'd finish rinsing my dish from breakfast, I felt Lea wrapping his arms around my waist to hug me from behind as he nuzzled my neck and whispered, "Hey, how 'bout we each open up one of our presents a day early? It'll be fun, whaddya say?"

I glanced over my shoulder at him and he flashed me a cheeky little grin. I blinked a couple times, then peeked over towards our teeny tree in the living room. More specifically, at the gifts beneath it. At one gift in particular.

You know… that gift.

I hastily averted my gaze, feeling my cheeks warm.

Drat, had he noticed which one my eyes had zeroed in on?

Clearing my throat as I set the dish in the drying rack, I asked casually, "Do we really have the time? We're already running a bit behind, we should've been on the highway ten minutes ago."

"We're already late, what's a few extra measly minutes?"

I tried again, "But today? Right now? ...it's not even Christmas yet."

"Pfft, what, like the holiday police are gonna bust us for bending the rules a lil?" he chuckled low as he gave my ear a playful nip before pulling away, spinning me around to face him. "Misbehave, live a lil! Being bad never felt so good! 'Sides, I'm just dying to know whatcha got me. C'mon, it's just one present each, we'll still have others to rip open on jolly ol' Saint Nick's Day tomorrow."

I had to resist the urge to look at that gift again.

Damn it, girl, be cool.

Instead, I smiled and relented with a small sigh, "Alright, fine. Only one though, got it?"

"Course!" he beamed, before gesturing a hand towards the living room with a slight bow of his head. "Ladies first."

I walked past him, exiting the kitchen and approaching where our tree stood guard over its little horde of presents. I considered them for a few seconds before picking out a bright red, flat-ish one decorated in nutcracker soldier printed gift wrap. Then I moved to the couch, making room by easing Marshmallow over a bit where he laid conked out in a deep sleep (on his back and with his tongue lolled out) before I took a seat on the middle cushion.

As I watched Lea approach the pile of gifts now to pick one out for himself, I couldn't help a small twitch as I suddenly began to regret every poor life choice I'd made that'd led up to me buying that stupid lingerie. I mean, seriously, what had I been thinking when I'd let Rayne and Anna talk me into getting that silly thing? What would I even possibly say when Lea unwrapped it? How would I- no, shush, relax, Elsa, it'll all be fine. Lea probably wasn't even going to pick that one. He was probably more curious about whatever the bigger, flashier-looking one could be - it was probably the whole reason he'd even suggested opening a couple right now. Yeah, that had to be it! There was no way he could be interested the measly, smaller, less fancy looking pres-

Fudge, he'd picked the lingerie.

Jerk probably had caught me staring at it.

"Are you sure that's the one you want to open now?" I blurted out before my mind could catch up. Noting the slight tremor to my voice, I cleared my throat and gave a tiny nervous laugh, my fingers absently picking at the tape on my own present. "The other one's bigger. Clunkier, you might even say. Could be a lot of work hauling it all the way up to the cabin, then hauling it all the way back. Maybe it'd be better if you just opened that one here instead."

"Nah, I don't mind lugging it back and forth," he laughed as he plopped down onto the sofa on my other side opposite of Marshmallow, settling the abomination that was my gift into his lap. "I could use the workout anyhow! This glorious physique don't just happen on its own, ya know!" he grinned, flexing one arm and kissing his bicep.

I gave a soft snort. "True, I suppose you have to burn off all that ice cream you consume by the gallon somehow," I poked a gentle fingertip to his belly.

"Hey now, maybe I wouldn't eat so much o' the crap if the girl working at the Ice Palace weren't such a cutie," he leaned towards me with a wink.

"Oh-ho, no," I waggled a finger in his face. "You were a sugar junkie long before I got a job there, so don't even try to blame your sweet tooth on me."

He smirked. "Who said I was talking 'bout you?"

I smacked him in the face with one of the couch's throw pillows.

"I mean, obviously I was talking 'bout you, babe!" He reached over to tweak my nose, "You're the cutest chick who works there, no contest! ...literally, cuz you're the only chick who works there, so that's not even really saying mu-"

I whacked him with the pillow again.

"I kid, I kid, c'mon, you know I think you're the most gorgeous creature in all of creation! Gimme that thing before you fluffily bludgeon me to death," he snerked, confiscating the cushion from me and tucking it away between the armrest and his hip before nudging my shoulder with his. "Now go on, open up my present to ya already!"

With a tiny shake of my head at him, I redirected my focus to the nicely wrapped gift in my lap and began carefully removing the tape. Once I'd made enough of an opening, I liberated a thin box from within. Raising an eyebrow, I lifted the lid off to discover two long, green slips of sturdy paper inside decorated with a logo on one half and lots of teeny printed text filling the rest of it. I picked them up with a little frown, squinting as I read them, then gasped and shot up to my feet, the box tumbling out of my lap down to the carpet. "How?! How did you manage to get tickets?! This musical has been sold out for months!"

"I have my ways," he sighed smugly, slouching down more comfortably into the sofa cushion. "We should be able to squeeze it in before the end of winter break, so figured we could take in the show, spend a few days in the big apple, make a whole trip outta it, ya know?"

"That… that sounds amazing, that-" I cut myself off, suddenly at a loss for words. Broadway was currently running my favorite musical - the one that song was from that I'd chosen to audition with for our community theater's Wicked tryouts. I'd been dying to go and Lea knew that, but tickets had been impossible to get. Not so for him, it seemed. I hastily sat back down, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him over to me to kiss him thoroughly. Smiling against his lips, I then drew back just enough to whisper, "Thank you… this means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it," he murmured back, gaze hooded as he nudged the tip of my nose with his. Then he pulled away, eyes lighting up a bit as he eagerly rubbed his hands together over his own present now. "Alright, my turn!"

I paled, heart all but flatlining in my chest. Crud, I'd completely forgotten. Here Lea had picked out something super sweet and thoughtful for me, and what had I gotten him in return?

Underwear.

Nay, not just underwear.

Friggin' frilly underwear.

"No!" I yelped, lunging for it just as he'd ripped some of the wrapping paper off one corner. Managing to snatch it out of his hands, I scrambled to stand and get it away from him. He stared blankly at me, one eyebrow quirked. Eyes darting wildly about, I said, "No, this… you don't want to open this one! This one's, er…" I hid it behind my back, biting my bottom lip, "...it's nothing really, it's- you know what? Let's get you the other one! Yes, that's the one you want, and this one you can open, er… never? Yeah, let's say never! In fact, let's just completely forget this one ever existed and I'll go get you the other-"

Just as I'd turned to make my way back over to the tree, Lea snaked one arm out and snagged the gift back with a chipper little, "Yoink!"

"Hey!" I tried to steal it back from him, but he'd stood up to his full height, holding it high above his head where it was easily out of my reach.

Curse him, his stupid tall self and his stupid, stupid long arms!

He chuckled as he pressed a quick peck to my forehead, "Now I know this is for sure the one I wanna open. With you getting all flustered over it, whatever it is has gotta be good!"

"But-"

"Ah-ah!" his finger booped me on the nose before he plonked back down into his seat on the couch. "Ya know it only makes me wanna open it more the harder you fight it, right? Just let it go, El, it's happening."

My lips pinched sourly before I huffed and sat down as well. I grabbed another throw pillow and hugged it tightly to my chest, burying my face in it just enough for me to peek out anxiously over the top.

Alright, fine. Let's get this impending trainwreck over with.

But I swear, this is the last time I listen to any advice Anna and Rayne give me ever again.

I tried not to flinch with each little tear he made in the gift wrap, the cartoony frolicking reindeers and elves printed on it seeming so deceptively innocent now when you considered what scandalous secrets lay hidden beneath them. All too soon, he was balling up the tattered remains and tossing them over his shoulder before opening the box, shifting the neatly folded tissue paper within aside and-

His whole body went still. Then he blinked once. Then twice. "Huh," was all he said at first. Then with a bemused little upward curve to one corner of his lips, he was delicately lifting the lingerie up out of the box in all its salacious glory. "...babe, I'm flattered, but blue's not really my color."

...oh god, the big clueless dope thought I'd given it to him as a joke for him to wear. He didn't realize-

Fudge, now I had to spell it out for him.

Having to wonder how my brain was not melting straight out of my ears at this point what with how badly my face was broiling, I set the pillow aside, folded my hands in my lap, sat up a little straighter and opened my mouth. Then swiftly snapped it back shut, cheeks cranking up the heat even further.

How… do I even put this?

Taking a deep breath, I tried again, "But it is… my color..."

He dropped the garment, eyes growing round and expression slack. "Oh." A pause. Then, "Oh, so you'd be the one who'd- oh." Picking it up again, a huge, lopsided grin spread across his suddenly rather flushed face as he eyed it in a whole new light now. "...oh, I see."

Fingers strangling the life out of each other in my lap, I looked away as I went on, "I know it's not as nice or as… sincere as your gift to me was, but I promise my other present is much better and-"

"No, no, none of that now, it's- I- this is-" Apparently struggling to find the right words to do justice to what he wanted to say, he instead settled for schooling his expression to be almost comically stoic as he gave big, emphatic nods with a thumbs up that then shifted into forming an O with his thumb and forefinger, signaling his approval.

I perked up a little uncertainly. "...you mean you like it? Really?"

"Oh yeah, trust me, I like it… really, really like it." Lea then cleared his throat, knee bouncing up and down as his fingers idly traced back and forth over the lace embroidered into the silky fabric. "Sooooo, heh… when do we take this baby out for its first test spin? ...now? Or say, I dunno, uh…" he shrugged, clearly trying (and failing) not to sound too eager as he repeated, "now?"

Down, boy.

I bit back a tiny smile. "No, now we should be on the road and making our way towards the cabin," I said as I rose to my feet to head towards the bedroom, snatching the lingerie from his grasp as I moved past him.

"Hey!" He vaulted himself over the backrest of the couch in the flash, hot on my heels. "That's mine!"

Crossing my arms as I spun around to face him, I said, "Yes, but I'm simply taking it to pack it with my things so we have it for the trip."

"Oh." Lea was grinning so big again now, it crinkled his guyliner. "I'll allow this."

"How very magnanimous of you," I snorted, turning to continue my journey to the bedroom once more. "I'm going to go finish packing and getting dressed, while you-" Just as I'd stepped through the door, I glanced back to discover he'd followed me in here. "...just where do you think you're going?"

He hunched down to my eye level, eyebrows bouncing over his half-lidded gaze. "To help ya get dressed, of course."

"Uh-uh. No," I planted a hand firmly to his chest, forcing him to walk in reverse and back out of the room. "I know that look. We don't have time for that look, we're late enough as it is. You stay out here, clean up the trashed wrapping paper, and get the rest of the gifts and Marshmallow out to the car."

"Aw c'mon, El, ya gotta lemme in there so I can help you," he insisted.

I gave him a flat look. "...do I? Do I really? Enlighten me then, please… why do I 'gotta' let you in here?"

"Er… cuz I'm a charming, lovable scamp with devilish good looks that you just can't say no to?"

I drooped my eyelids at him. Then I shut the door in his face, locking it for good measure.

Charm your way through that, scamp.

My cheeks puffed as I blew out a long breath, taking a second to fan my still very heated face with my hands. I then crossed the room, tossing Lea's gift next to where my almost fully packed suitcase laid open atop the bed. I set to work grabbing whatever else I needed - things like my charger and whatnot - and stuffed them into my travel case.

I then paused in a brief moment of indecision before sighing, rolling my eyes, and sticking my hand under the mattress to retrieve the other thing that Anna had made me buy from Esmeralda's Secrets. I frowned at it, then turned and held it up as I asked, "What do you think? Should I take it along?"

Bruni blinked back at me from inside his terrarium, cocking his head. Then can you guess what the little salamander did next? Go on, take a wild guess.

If your answer involved his tongue, his eyeball, and/or the swiping of said tongue over said eyeball, then you'd be correct.

I snorted. "You know, we really need to get you some new talking points as I feel you've pretty much said all you can say with that one at this point," I told him as I double checked he had enough food in there with him to keep him amply fed while we were gone. Then I gave the thing in my grip one final glance with a tiny shake of my head before tucking it away inside my luggage, burying it deep beneath several layers of clothing. Chances were good it'd never see the light of day, but why not bring it just in case? I mean, the lingerie had been such a hit and we hadn't even gotten to the fun part with it yet. I could imagine this thing would probably be met with equally rave reviews from Lea as well, should I muster up the courage to actually bring it out.

Now all I needed to do was pack the lingerie, get dressed, and go. I picked it up, dangling it before me as I considered it for a moment. My lips pursed to one side.

...an idea was beginning to take form in my mind.

A little wicked one.

A supremely stupid one.

One that was only asking for trouble.

Honestly, I don't know what possessed me to do it.

But I did it anyway.

"Everyone else is there already. I can't believe we're actually going to be the last ones to arrive," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at the text message from Anna on my phone.

"Bah, don't sweat it," Lea chuckled as he sped his car down the highway. We'd been on it for about twenty minutes now. He glanced over at me, tipping his aviators down just enough to wink over the rim, "Just means they'll have our hot cocoa ready and waiting for us in a couple o' steaming mugs by the time we get there."

My throat gave a small, noncommittal hmph. "Just be glad Anna's insisting on saving the master bedroom for us instead of calling dibs on it for her and Kristoff," I told him, pocketing my phone once more. Then I said, "I still think it was silly of Saïx to drive out ahead of us on his own instead of carpooling with us. He would've been able to sleep on the ride over."

He flicked on his blinker as our lane began to merge with the next one over. "Think he plans to bail on our lil holiday bonanza a day or two earlier than the rest of us. 'Sides, pretty sure he wasn't too keen on the idea of being the overstuffed fleabag's snuggle buddy on the whole drive over," he sniggered as he stretched a hand behind him into the backseat without looking to give Marshmallow a couple of affectionate pats to the head. "Hey!" he quickly snatched the hand back when his love was reciprocated with tooth hugs.

"Well then, his loss." I grinned as I twisted around in my seat to give the dog scritches under the chin, cooing, "Isn't that right, Marshmallow?"

Did that sound like an invitation to come sit in my lap? Because apparently to Marshmallow, it did. In the blink of an eye, he'd excitedly squeezed his way through the space between our two front seats to crush me under the mountain of white fluff that was him, tail thumping away at a mile a minute against the dash. Quite a feat considering there was barely enough space in the car seat to accommodate the colossal canine alone, much less the both of us. To this day, I'm still not quite sure how Marshmallow had managed to wedge himself up here with me.

After much cackling from Lea and wheezed coaxing from me, Marshmallow was finally persuaded a few minutes later to clamber back into the backseat once more, though not without a healthy dose of whining and puppy-dog pouting. Able to breathe again, I inhaled deeply as I began to straighten myself back out - the assault of doggy cuddles had left me in a bit of a disarray. I swept the few stray pale tendrils of my hair that had escaped back into my bun, smoothed the rumples out of my off the shoulder button-up blouse, and-

"Holy shit, is that... Under your clothes, you're already wearing it?!" Lea fumbled with his shades, perching them atop his head as his suddenly wide-eyed stare was now in a tug-of-war between my leg and watching the road.

With a start, I glanced down to discover that Marshmallow's little snuggle ambush had caused my knee-length skirt with a side-slit to ride up a bit, revealing the lacy garter (complete with a little blue bow) wrapped around my thigh that was holding up my black sheer stockings. Blushing furiously, I hastily jerked the hem of my skirt back down to hide it again and awkwardly avoided his gaze as I crossed my legs, mumbling, "...maybe."

Yes.

I was already wearing it.

"It" being the lingerie.

Which, by the way if you hadn't guessed by now, was the supremely stupid thing I'd decided to do.

Lea said nothing, just continued to gawk at me.

Gosh, if my cheeks burned any brighter, Santa would be asking me to guide his sleigh tonight instead of Rudolph.

Talk. I needed to talk. To fill this silence that was making me fidget restlessly under his gaze. Go on, mouth, just move and make with the words already. Any words. "...it's... actually rather comfortable." ...okay? "The lingerie, that is." Oh good. Thanks for clarifying the obvious. "Wouldn't think it would be. Would've thought it'd be more designed in favor of being, ah… aesthetically pleasing at the expense of comfort." Oh dear, where was I going with this? "I mean, I tried it on before buying it. Of course I did, it'd be silly not to at least make sure it- but, you know, I only had it on for a grand total of a minute in the fitting room, not really long enough to tell if- but now that I've had it on for an, er… extended period, I can say that it's, uh… it's quite comfortable. The silk is real nice, real… smooth against the skin." I take it back. Stop talking. Stop talking this instant. "Fits like a glove, as the saying goes, not… tight or restricting at all like I'd imagined it might be. The whole thing's really quite flexible with a plenty of give, actually…" Your license to speak has been revoked, mouth, you hear me? Zip it! "I shouldn't have any problems bending or twisting into any sort of posi-"

The car beside us suddenly blared its horn - apparently Lea had been a little too preoccupied by my line of discussion and in his distraction had begun to accidentally drift into the next lane over. "Fuck," he hissed, swerving us back into our proper lane. Clearing his throat as he shot the other vehicle a quick, apologetic wave, he told me, "Love, I'm dying to hear the end of that sentence, trust me, I'm highly invested at this point, but we're gonna hafta put a pin in it and circle back round to it later cuz this is a dangerous conversation to be having with a man while he's driving."

You heard the man, mouth. Friggin' cram it.

Pressing my lips firmly together, I tugged at the hem of my skirt again and gave a single curt nod, making no further comment.

We drove in silence for a minute as the trees of the forest around us blurred past our windows. Lea's eyes kept flicking to me out of the corner of his peripheral. He coughed into his fist and vigorously ruffled his fingers through his hair before returning his grip to the wheel. His knee began to jiggle up and down. Then, "Hey, uh… how 'bout we make a pit stop somewhere?"

I glanced towards him, my head tipping to one side. "A pit stop?"

"Yeah, so we can, ya know... stretch our legs… and other things," he wickedly smirked as he reached over the center console for my hand and brought it up to his lips, bouncing his eyebrows at me over my knuckles as he pressed a kiss to them.

A noise that was half laugh, half scoff escaped me. "There's not another rest stop for miles."

He shrugged. "I'm not picky. I'm sure a nice thicket could do in a pinch."

I gave him a flat look. "...a thicket? Really?"

"What? I'll make sure it's a romantic one! A classy one!"

"And how, pray tell, do you make a thicket classy?" I crossed my arms under my chest, arching an eyebrow at him.

"By keeping our pinkies raised the whole time!" Lea beamed, holding one hand up and wiggling his little finger.

Snorting, I shook my head. "No stops until we get there, understood?"

A harsh little huff emitted from his throat, "Fine." Then his foot pressed down harder on the gas and the engine thrummed louder as we started passing the other cars more quickly.

I hummed a soft laugh, "Oh sure, now you're in a hurry to get there."

"Well yeah! Ya said it yourself: we're late. Just trynta make up for lost time!" One corner of his lips quirked up as he added, "'Sides, the sooner we get there, the sooner I can unwrap my present."

"You know you're not allowed to open the other one until tomorrow morning," I tutted.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he not so subtly eyed me up and down, leaving zero doubt as to exactly what he meant.

Suppressing the urge to squirm, my hands swiped the nonexistent wrinkles out of my skirt as I dropped a casual, "Goodness, all this fuss and you haven't even seen part two of your gift yet."

He shot me a double-take. "Jesus Christ, there's a part two?!"

I'm with him, there's a part two?! Mouth, what are you even-

...oh dear, I was talking about the thing tucked away in my luggage between my dresses and my nightgown, wasn't I?

Damn Anna to the bloody ninth circle of hell for ever making me buy that infernal thing!

Alright, mouth, we can still get out of this. Remember the three B's: backtrack, backtrack, backtrack! Just go on and work your magic.

"Guess you'll just have to wait until later tonight to find out."

...mouth, you're fired.

Lea gave a low whistle and grinned big. "Somebody musta told Santa that I've been a very good boy this year," he murmured, his gaze drifting towards me again. Then traveling downward. Searching. As if he could somehow catch a glimpse of the lingerie hidden beneath through sheer force of will alone.

"Hey now, eyes on the road, mister," I chided.

He pouted, but did as he was told.

I snorted, "What's with the face? It's not like you can see anything anyway, you don't have x-ray vision."

"And I curse my goddamn maker every day for such a heinous oversight," he grumbled under his breath as he slipped his aviators back down onto his face.

We ended up making it to the cabin in record time. It wasn't currently snowing, but a thick glittering blanket of white had coated everything around us, from the ground to the trees to the cabin itself. Lea parked us next to the other cars and as he shut off the engine and the heat with it, I shrugged into my long heavy coat. I probably didn't really need it, the walk to the door would take less than ten seconds and I'd never been one to freeze easily, but it would be one less thing to carry.

Marshmallow was making it abundantly clear he was ready to no longer be trapped inside the car as he pawed at the back door and whimpered. Chuckling and telling him to hang on, I reached back to clip on his leash before exiting the vehicle myself, my knee high boots sinking into the snow as I let him out. He nearly ripped my arm out of my socket when he tried to bolt to investigate his new strange surroundings with all its new strange scents, but I managed to keep him in check if only just barely. Lea, having wrapped a black and red checkered scarf around his neck and donned his own thick jacket, took it upon himself to grab our suitcases seeing as how I pretty much had my hands full maintaining control of Marshmallow.

"We're here!" I called out as I opened the front door and let Marshmallow pull me inside, Lea following us and kicking the door shut behind him before dumping our things on the floor. As I knelt down to remove the leash once more, Marshmallow's nostrils suddenly flared with a big sniff before his ears perked and he went very still, his eyes intently focused on the hallway that led to the main sitting room. Oh-ho, I knew who he smelled. The second the leash was unclipped, the big wall of fur excitedly charged off deeper into the house.

I shook my head with a tiny grin as I slipped out of my coat and folded it over the banister next to the entrance. Before I could follow in my dog's tracks however, I felt Lea's hand closing around mine. He gently tugged me back and spun me around to face him, backing me up against the banister as he planted his hands on top of it to either side of me, trapping me between it and his body. Then he was leaning in real close, eyes hooded as his nose brushed alongside mine, his breath tickling my lips as he purred, "Ya know what I was thinking?"

I gave a low hum, reaching up to straighten his collar before resting my hands against his chest, absently smoothing out any creases in the fabric as I asked softly, "What were you thinking?"

His eyes crinkled slightly as he dipped his head, nosing the sensitive skin just beneath my ear and making me shiver. "Was thinkin' you should help me take the luggage to our room."

Translation: he was eager to "unwrap his gift."

A smile tugged at one corner of my mouth. "I see. Well, here's what I'm thinking…"

"Mm-hm," he prompted distractedly, straightening up just enough to try and go in for a kiss.

He probably thought he could seduce me to our bedroom with the power of his lips alone. And you know, he might have been right. He was a really good kisser.

Which is why I clamped my hand over his mouth at the last second, grinned sweetly up at him and said, "I'm thinking I know how much you love being a gentleman and I would simply hate to rob you of this ideal moment of chivalry by offering any sort of help with our suitcases. You're welcome." I lightly patted him on the cheek before trying to slip free of his arms. I didn't make it far however before he'd snagged me around the waist, pulling me up against him. I sighed, "Come on, Lea, the others are waiting for us."

"And they can wait a lil bit longer while we…" that wicked curve to his lips resurfaced, "settle in. It'll be fine, we'll see them later tonight." A thoughtful pause before he waggled his eyebrows, hooking a finger under my chin as he began to lean in once more, murmuring, "Make that tomorrow."

"There you two are!" Anna suddenly came bursting into the room with her signature bubbly laugh. "Was beginning to think you got friggin' lost!"

Whew! Saved by the baby sister!

Don't get me wrong, Lea was making a tempting offer. More than tempting. It's just that we hadn't made the trip all the way up to this cabin only to just lock ourselves in a room together for god knew how long. No, I'd come here to spend time with my friends and family. It was rather rare that I actually chose to spend time with a large group of people, but something about the holidays brought that out in me I suppose. There would be plenty of time for that other stuff later after everyone had turned in for the night. Lea would just have to wait his turn.

His shoulders slumped and he sulked a bit at being interrupted, but Anna hardly noticed as she snagged my arm, "C'mon, everyone's in the living room!"

"Hold it!" Lea hadn't let go of my hand yet. "El's gotta, uh… help me find our room first!"

"Oh! Up the stairs, first one on the left, you can't miss it!" Anna happily chirped, not wasting another second to drag me off.

He reluctantly let my fingers slip free of his this time as he released a low, grumbling huff. I glanced back at him as I let myself be towed along, crinkling my nose in amusement. He crinkled his back, though his was oozing snark. Could a nose crinkle even be snarky? Because if it could, his was decidedly so. With that, I lost sight of him as I was yanked around the corner and down the hall.

I could hear the rumble of chatter and laughter growing louder as we drew near before we stepped into the large family room. Everyone was seated cozily around the large roaring fireplace. Sora had little Cayde (or at least, I thought it was Cayde… I was still getting the hang of telling them apart) settled in his lap while both he and Kairi laughed and made goofy faces for the baby. Riku was nearby, keeping his watchful dad eye on them while holding a conversation with Kristoff at the same time. Rayne and Aria were nowhere to be seen, but I suspected the latter had probably been in need of a change and so had been taken into another room to have that dealt with.

Marshmallow was exactly where I expected him to be - sprawled across Saïx's lap, whether Saïx liked it or not. It looked like there might have been a bit of a kerfuffle for Saïx seemed slightly ruffled, but in the end he'd apparently just accepted his fate and currently had his laptop settled on Marshmallow's back as he typed away at it, a mildly miffed expression twisting his face behind his glasses. Roxas and Xion were seated in armchairs close to him, snickering and shoving each other's shoulders over something.

"Look who I found!" Anna announced as she brought me further into the room. They all looked up and I was met with a round of boisterous greetings. Giving my arm one final squeeze before releasing it, Anna said, "Have a seat! I'll go bring in the snacks now that we're all here!"

I began, "Oh, I'd be happy to help with-"

"No, that's fine! I really only require the assistance of one big, handsome, strapping gentleman and I have just the perfect one in mind..." As she spoke those words, Kristoff perked up and turned his head towards her with a huge smile. "...Sora!"

"Huh, wha?" Sora froze mid-squishing his cheeks together for Cayde at the sound of his own name, blinking a couple times. Kristoff looked positively crestfallen.

Anna snerked. "Kidding! Of course I was talking about you, you big dummy," she planted a quick peck to Kristoff's chin, which seemed to mollify him. Then she gathered both his hands in hers with a chipper, "Now c'mon!" before tugging him off towards the kitchen.

I grinned after them before glancing around for a place to sit. Saïx and Marshmallow were the only ones on their couch and though my beloved four-legged friend did admittedly take up a lot of space, the two of them were on the far side of it and it was a long couch so there was still plenty of room left. I eased myself down on the opposite end from them beside where the "kiddos" had seemingly picked up their conversation right where it'd left off.

"'Lemme copy your homework, Xion. Do all the work on the group project, Xion,'" she was reciting in a voice that I believe was a mock imitation of Roxas's. Then she gave a scoff, albeit in good-humor, "I swear, Rox, I'm nothing more than just a puppet for you to boss around."

"That's right, dance on my strings, puppet!" Roxas cackled back, waggling his fingers in the air above his head as if to manipulate said imaginary strings and earning himself yet another shove to his shoulder.

I listened with half an ear, momentarily distracted as my eyes scanned the room. Where was it? I knew it just had to be here somew-

Ah-ha! There! Dangling from the archway Anna and I had just come through a moment before.

Mistletoe.

I silently filed away its location for later. It'd be useful. Trust me.

"Just be grateful winter break arrived in the nick of time to save your punk ass because I was this close to throttling you," Xion sighed, rolling her eyes before flashing me a long-suffering smile. "I tell ya, Elsa, one of these days this doof will no longer have me around to cover for him and he'll be a total wreck without me!"

He looked aghast, clutching his chest. "No! Xion, you could never abandon me!" A beat. "...who else will I have ice cream with?"

"What am I, chopped liver?" Lea's voice suddenly piped up, drawing our attention. Apparently all done toting our luggage up to our room, he now came striding in, mussing up both Xion's and Roxas's hair by way of hello as he passed them, "Look who got here early."

Roxas swatted his hand away, "No, you're just late."

Lea placed a palm on the back of the couch, catapulting himself over it to land heavily in the spot between me and Marshmallow. Slipping an arm around my shoulders, he declared, "The life of the party is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

"I'm sorry, why are you talking about Sora now?" Xion slyly teased.

"Yeah, he actually showed up on time unlike your late ass," Roxas sniggered before releasing a tiny, hissed "ow" when Lea delivered a swift kick to his shin.

Rolling his eyes, Lea sighed, "So what were you squirts talking about before I got here?"

Xion smirked over at her blond friend, "About how lost Rox would be if he didn't have me around to carry his lazy butt all the time. And we're talking completely lost. Bet he wouldn't even know who he was anymore."

He shrugged, "Psh, what are you talking about? I am me, nobody else."

"You're a chimp is what you are," she poked him in the cheek. "You're lucky you even know your own name, much less how to spell it. If it weren't for me, you'd of flunked outta college ages ago."

"Ooo, we're talking about college?" Anna chimed into the conversation as she came bustling back into the room precariously managing four mugs of hot cocoa, two in each hand. Kristoff was right behind her bearing a couple trays of Christmas cookies and pastries. One of the cocoas was sweetly delivered to me before the others were distributed and Anna sent Kristoff back to the kitchen to continue ferrying in more after he'd left the snacks on a coffee table. Happily flopping down into a nearby armchair, she popped one of the sweets into her mouth before continuing, "I can't believe I have less than a year before I graduate! Unlike some people…" Her eyes smugly drifted to Lea.

"Hey now, rude! Shit, why the drive-by? I'm working through my credits as fast as I can," he grumbled as he accepted one of the cocoas Kristoff had returned with and blew on it. Then one side of his mouth quirked up at he told Kristoff, "My my, she's got ya trained good, huh?"

His only response was a hand gesture that was less than PG. Lea just snorted at that.

"What are your plans after college? I don't think you've told me yet," I asked my sister, hazarding a slow careful sip. Mmmm, chocolate! I cradled it close in both hands, enjoying the warmth seeping into my fingers.

Anna grabbed a handful of holiday truffles, tossing one up in the air and catching it in her mouth with a huge grin before answering. "Thinking of going to work with dad at the company!"

I choked on the second sip I'd just been taking, coughing a bit. "R-really?"

I could picture Anna doing a lot of things. Some stuffy corporate politics job? Not so much.

"Don't act so surprised!" she laughed. "You know I've worked there every summer practically all my life! I like it, and I'm actually pretty good at it too! I think maybe I could run that place one day!"

"Ah, so good to see that the archaic practice of nepotism is still alive and well," Saïx dryly drawled, not looking up from his screen nor pausing in his typing.

My sister huffed, narrowing her eyes at him. "Shush, you! It wasn't handed to me, I've worked my sweet friggin' little butt off for this! Am still working my butt off, thank you very much! And I'll have you know one day when I'm handed the keys to the kingdom, there's going to be some changes around there! I think I could do some real good in the world once I'm in charge! So you can kindly shove it," she razzed her tongue at him before slipping three more sugary treats into her mouth with as much lofty dignity as anyone could do such a thing. It was actually rather impressive.

Saïx merely gave a low hmph at that, fingers still tapping away. Lea drooped his eyelids at him before shifting his leg over to nudge his brother's shoe with his Converse. "Oi. You seriously working right now, dude? C'mon, man, it's Christmas! Quit being such a scrooge, have a heart and let loose a lil!" As he spoke, I could feel his thumb idly tracing light circles in the hollow of my bare shoulder, probably missing having my braid to fiddle with.

"If I had a heart, this would be where I die of laughter," Saïx muttered, squinting at his screen with a thoughtful frown before pressing the backspace a couple times.

"Don't be silly, course you have a heart!" Roxas beamed and shrugged. "Small and shriveled, yes, but it's there!"

Xion rose, moving to instead take a seat on the armrest next to Saïx. "Yeah, you're not a scrooge, you're a grinch! We just need to give you some hugs and eggnog and that heart'll grow three sizes, you'll see!" she giggled, throwing her arms around his shoulders and squeezing hard.

"Ugh, will the intrusions never end?" Saïx huffed, trying to pry himself free of her vice-like embrace but to no avail.

"Shh, you know you love it!"

I had a growing suspicion Lea's interest in the current conversation had waned, for I could sense his intent gaze on me now as I bent forward to put my half drunk cocoa down on the coffee table and reach for the nearest snack tray. As I settled back more comfortably into my seat, he brought up a hand to tuck a stray wisp of my hair that had gotten free back behind my ear before ducking his head to trail feather light kisses down the slope of my neck that left little tingles in their wake. I turned my head to look at him through lowered lashes and he grinned, moving to close the distance between our lips and-

-I crammed a christmas cookie in his mouth.

Nice try, bucko, but you're not going to trick me up to the bedroom that easily.

"Ah! You two made it! Finally!" Rayne came into the room just then, toting Aria on her hip. "Yeesh, took ya long enough!" she smiled as I stood up and we hugged each other. Then she was offering me the baby with an abrupt, "Here, hold this."

I tensed, blinking a couple times, my hands twitching but making no other movements to accept the burbling infant from her. "I… er…"

"Here, I'll take her," Lea muffled out around the mouthful of cookie he was still choking down thanks to me, reaching up to pluck Aria from Rayne's hands and sitting her down in his lap.

I released a silent sigh of relief. Could you believe it had been weeks since the twins had been born and I had still yet to actually hold either one of them? Some godmother I was turning out to be. But dammit, babies were just so squishy and fragile! What if I accidentally broke one of them?

Uh-uh. No. Not on my watch.

Just keep the babies away from me and my klutzy hands. Really, it'd be in everyone's best interest.

"So, uh… have you finished getting their nursery all set up at long last?" I asked as I settled into my seat on the couch once more.

"Yes, finally!" Rayne grinned as she squeezed into Anna's armchair with her and my sister rested her head on her shoulder. "Since Cayde was an unexpected surprise, hadta do a lot of scrambling getting a second crib and other such things for him. Plus it took goddamn ages scrubbing and bleaching every last inch of your old room."

"Bleaching?" Lea echoed curiously, bouncing a laughing Aria on his knee. I couldn't help but notice however that his gaze had drifted to where the mistletoe hung, seemingly just now having noticed it. I could all but see the wheels turning behind those crafty green eyes of his.

My ex-roommate gave him a flat look. "Red, please. You used to spend the night over. A lot. No tykes of mine are gonna be playing somewhere you two used to do the frick-frack constantly without it being properly and thoroughly disinfected and sanitized first."

"Ah," was the only response he made to that. As Rayne then got momentarily distracted by her husband coming over to give her surprise smooches, Lea leaned closer to me, muttering low out of the corner of his mouth so only I could hear, "Take it we're not gonna tell her 'bout their living room couch then?"

Feeling heat creeping up the back of my neck, I cleared my throat and shook my head, answering a quick but just as quiet, "No."

"Or the kitchen countertops? Or that one time on the dining table? Or-"

"No. No, none of it," I hissed, face full on roasting now.

What can I say? Lea could be very, ahem… persuasive when it came to having his way.

"Oh!" Anna suddenly straightened up in her seat excitedly as it seemed she'd just remember something. "You auditioned for the Spring musical, right? Have they announced who got what parts yet?"

Grateful for the subject change, I eagerly nodded, "Yes, actually, they just posted the cast sheet yesterday afternoon." A surge of giddiness filled my chest as I bit back a grin. "...I got the lead."

"Wha- Seriously?! Oh my friggin' god! Sis! Congratulations! And you're only now telling me? You should have said something sooner, this is a big deal!"

Lea glanced up from blowing air raspberries for a happily squealing Aria to say, "That's what I kept trynta tell her."

"I'd hardly call community theater a big deal," I self-consciously brushed off, the pleased smile I was fighting growing wider despite myself. "...I am really excited about it though."

"And you should be, sweetpea!" Rayne reached for my hands in my lap, covering them with her own. "Community theater it may be, but the people there still know their shit! They've recognized your talent and are trusting you with more responsibility! Your first official lead! That's huge!"

"Today, community theater… tomorrow, Broadway… the day after that, the world," Lea intoned in a dramatic whisper.

I rolled my eyes with a small grin, "That's not exactly how it w-"

"Too late. Already said it. It's happening."

As I shook my head at him, Anna hopped up to her feet, struck a finger up in the air and declared, "This calls for celebration! Be right back with something to spike the cocoa with!" With that, she blurred out of the room back towards the kitchen.

I shyly accepted a few more congrats from everyone else before conversation gradually turned to other topics and I just contentedly listened for a bit. The chit chat began to fade into the background however as I glanced towards Lea.

Gosh, he was so good with Aria. How did he make it look so easy? Not to mention there was something so pure and comically endearing about seeing this absolute behemoth of a man with his mess of untamed red hair, guyliner, and black nail polish being so gentle as he played peek-a-boo with the tiny baby. I know I'd already thought he'd make an amazing father one day, but thinking it and actually seeing him in action were two completely different things. Watching the two of them right now-

Oh dear, it was doing things to me.

You know. Stomach butterflies, knees going weak, insides turning into mush kind of things.

Things that must have been as plain as day to read on my face for Lea happened to look over at me, blink a couple times, then quirk an eyebrow as his gaze flicked back and forth between me and Aria while he put two and two together. Then he smirked. Turning the infant to face me now, he took on a high-pitch, munchkin-like voice as he began guiding Aria's arms into flourishing gestures as if she were the one talking instead of him, "Come, m'dear, and let awesome, suave, studly Unkie Lea whisk you away to the bedroom to ravage you and introduce you to whole new worlds of pleasure."

I gave him a blank stare. "...are you seriously trying to seduce me with a baby right now?"

His grin turned toothy. "Depends. Is it working?"

Kind of.

Sort of.

Yes.

"No."

Liar.

Pretty sure he knew it too, what with the way he was squinting at me with that crooked little half-grin of his. His lips parted, but before he could utter another word, Anna practically bounced back into the room.

"We got Crème De Menthe," she held up a long, skinny green bottle in one hand, "we got Kahlúa," her other hand waggled a smaller brown bottle, "we got it all, take your pick! But first, I took a look out the window while I was in the kitchen and now I have a very important question for you." She set the booze down on the table, stood in front of me with both hands firmly planted on her hips and gave me her most serious expression as she stared down her nose at me. Abruptly, she broke out into an ear-to-ear smile, "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

"Hell yeah I do!" Sora finally tore his attention away from Cayde to enthusiastically shout across the room, causing Kairi to smother a snicker behind her hand.

"I'm in," Roxas was already on his feet and making his way towards where his warmer outerwear had been carelessly tossed onto some of the other furniture.

Xion was not too far behind him with a, "Me too! Bet my snowman will totally kick your snowman's frozen powdered ass!"

"Oh, it's on!"

Humming a small laugh, I nodded at Anna, "I'd love to."

Before I could rise from my seat however, I felt Lea's hand grabbing mine. "You sure about that, babe? You're not really, ya know…" his eyes briefly flicked down to indicate my clothes. More specifically, what was concealed beneath my clothes. "...dressed for cold weather and ya might catch a chill. So whaddya say we get you upstairs and-"

"Ah-ah," I pressed a fingertip to his lips, silencing him. "I'll be fine. You know the cold never bothered me anyway. I just need to snag a pair of gloves and go grab my coat from the foyer." I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before standing.

I'd barely managed to take a step however before Lea'd hastily dumped Aria into Saïx's unsuspecting hands and charged past me to stand in my path, right smack dab beneath the-

"Hold it!" he held his palm up in my face, then smirked, propped one shoulder against the inside of the archway he occupied now and pointed up with a smug, "Mistletoe."

I narrowed my eyes at the little sprig above his head, then crossed my arms as my eyelids drooped. "And I suppose you're expecting a kiss now?"

"Tradition demands it and who are we to scoff in the face of tradition? 'Sides, you wanna get your coat, you'll have to get through me first. So pucker up, schmoopsie-poo, cuz these lips aren't gonna kiss themselves!" He stretched a hand towards me, adding a low, "C'mere."

I considered his awaiting hand for a moment. Then I met his gaze, one corner of my mouth quirking up before I snagged the nearest thing - or rather, nearest person, which just so happened to be Roxas as he was running by. "You heard the man: those lips aren't going to kiss themselves!" I winked at the blond before giving him a little push towards Lea.

"You ready, big guy, because here comes some sweet, sweet sugar!" Roxas cackled as he latched onto him and made kissy noises.

"Get off, ya twerp!" Lea growled, planting a hand on Roxas's face and trying to wriggle free of his stranglehold.

"But, dude!" he muffled back against his palm. "Tradition demands it and who are we to scoff in the face of tradition?"

"I believe it's now someone else's turn to hold the infant," I suddenly heard Saïx dryly announce and I glanced back towards him to see him looking quite unamused as he held Aria upside down by one ankle at arms length. She giggled in delight as she reached for Marshmallow, who obliged her with a curious snuffle of her fingers. As Rayne gasped and rushed to take her from him, I shook my head with a grin and quickly slipped past Lea while he was still busy trying to extract himself from Roxas's grapple and thus was unable to stop me.

And to think… the holiday shenanigans had only just begun.

"Welp, that's game!" Lea declared with a clap. Rising from the couch, he pulled me up with him and tried to drag me off as he hastily added, "Was fun guys, but we're gonna call it an early night. C'mon, El."

"What?" I laughed softly, digging my heels in and bringing us both to a lurching stop. "That was just the first round. We haven't even scored yet," I chided as I started leading him back towards the sofa.

He let me, huffing out a low sigh as he grumpily plopped back down into his seat and muttered under his breath, "Whaddya think I've been trying to do this whole time…"

I narrowed my eyes at him, pinching his arm for the comment.

"Oo, the foreplay's starting early, huh?" he waggled his eyebrows at me.

I pinched him harder.

"Babe, ya know you're only encouraging me at this point, right?"

I snorted, shifting tactics and shoving the notepad and pencil into his hands, "Just figure out the points please?"

"Fiiiiiine," he made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes before scratching the pencil across the paper, tongue licking one corner of his lips as he worked. I shot the rest of the group a tiny apologetic smile.

It seemed Lea was getting a bit antsy for his gift.

I suppose he had been being rather patient for a while now. We had all spent several hours out in the snow - for the record, Xion's snowman had indeed kicked Roxas's snowman's frozen powdered butt. Lea had tried to corner me once or twice out there for some, hrm… snogging, but a well-timed handful of snow to his face did wonders for cooling that fiery passion of his down if only for a moment. Several snow angels and snowball fights later and we'd all finally had our fill and come back inside to warm ourselves by the fireplace once more. We were well past lunchtime now, but we still had plenty of snacks to tide us over until dinner. In the meantime, we'd decided to get a game of charades going at Anna's request.

At least, that's what we were attempting to do…

Of course, it'd help if the scorekeeper was actually doing his job correctly.

Or, you know… at all.

"Alright, lessee here…" Lea mumbled, pencil still furiously scribbling away. "You, my love, have four points, I have negative seventeen, and looks like Riku's won with… hm, carry the one… one million points. Now that's game! Shucks, too bad, so sad, let's go, El." Dropping the pad and pencil to the couch cushions, he snagged my hand and hopped up to his feet once more.

"Sit," came my simple yet firm command as I yanked him back down next to me. Pushing the pencil and notepad squarely into his chest, I told him, "Do it right."

As Lea released a sigh through his nose, Riku snorted from where he sat in another couch snuggled up close with his wife. "Do you even know the score? Have you been paying attention at all?"

"Course I know it! Got it memorized up here in the ol' noggin," he poked the pencil's eraser to his temple with a grin. However it quickly faded into a frown as he squinted down at the paper, tapping his writing utensil against it a couple times. "...but, I mean… if anyone else'd wanna compare notes and tell me what they think the point totals are, I'd only be too happy to let 'em know if they're right or wrong."

"But I thought you already knew the score, Mr Got-It-Memorized," Kairi sniggered, mockingly tapping a fingertip to the side of her forehead.

"I do. That was a test, and one ya just failed, princess. Minus fifty points for Kairi," Lea razzed his tongue at her as he wrote that down.

Sora groaned, "I want a new scorekeeper!"

"And that's minus one hundred points for you, bucko!"

Oh dear. We'd given the doofus way too much power.

"I'll take over keeping track of points," Rayne volunteered as she smiled and shook her head at my boyfriend's antics.

"Treason! Minus one thousand points for Raindrop for the villainy, attempted mutiny, and-"

I snatched the notepad from his fingers and smacked his shoulder with it before tossing it to Rayne who chirped a little "thank you!" at me as she caught it. I tried to confiscate the pencil as well, but he held it up high and away from me. As I stretched across him to reach for it, he took advantage of my new close proximity to plant a small peck to the tip of my nose.

I drooped my eyelids up at him.

Fine then. Keep the pencil, you big dork.

Anna piped up now, "Alright, we'll just call that first round a warm-up! Points start now!" She glanced over her shoulder and called out, "You're missing out on all the fun, Saïx, you sure you don't wanna join us?"

He'd moved some time ago to a table on the other side of the room far away from the rest of us, still hard at work on his laptop with Marshmallow curled up at his feet. "There's nothing I'd hate more," came his flat reply.

"So sayeth Mr Holly-Jolly himself," Lea muttered, staring up at the ceiling now as he balanced the pencil on his nose. I tried to swipe it, but he was faster in grabbing it off himself and once again keeping it out of my reach.

"Since we're starting off fresh, how about some new teams? Gals versus guys?" Xion suggested. She then bumped her shoulder into Roxas's with a goading smirk, "Unless, ya know, you're too scared of getting your asses handed to you by a buncha girls."

He snerked, bumping her back harder. "Bring it!"

As the others began weighing in as well on the new arrangement for the teams, I felt it. This tiny tickle against my thigh. I glanced down to discover Lea trying to use the eraser end of the pencil to covertly lift the side slit of my skirt for another discreet peek at the garter.

I lightly slapped his hand away and stood up, quickly saying, "You know, girls against boys sounds like an excellent idea. I think I'll go sit with my new teammates over here." I squeezed into the other couch between Anna and the armrest, edging Riku out from the opposite end and forcing him to find another seat. Across from Lea now, I shot him a pointed look with one eyebrow arched and a small smirk.

He just sulkily slumped further down into his own seat, knee jiggling up and down as he began gnawing on the pencil.

Oh yeah. Definitely antsy.

But no need to pout there, buddy, you and I both know you secretly love the torture of being forced to wait.

...was it wrong of me to actually be kind of enjoying this newfound power over him so much?

"Alright! Now that that's all settled, let the games begin!" Anna beamed before her blue gaze settled on me. "Sis, why don't you start us off?"

I stiffened. "Wha- me?" I bit down on my lower lip, eyes darting to the left as my hands began to fidget with each other in my lap. "...are you sure? Maybe it'd be better if someone else-"

"Elsa," she interrupted me, placing both hands on my shoulders. "Sis. I love you. You know I do. But you royally suck at charades."

"Hey!" I narrowed my eyes at her.

She shrugged, "Don't you 'hey' me, it's true!"

My face pinched sourly. "...okay, fair. But still… cheap shot."

An unapologetic grin pulled at her lips. "So now that we've got that established, don't you think getting the absolute travesty that will be your turn out of the way first so the rest of the team can help us finish strong might be the best call?"

I fixed her with a dull stare. "Gee, thanks for sugar coating it."

"No prob!" she giggled before her eyes turned expectant. "Sooo…?"

"Fine, just give me my word and let's get this over with," I relented with a sigh and held my hand out. Anna's face lit up and she offered me the basket full of tiny folded bits of paper. I plucked one up without much consideration and rose, stomping a few steps away.

We all remember what a "fan" of charades I am, right?

Not.

Ugh, the things I do for my sister.

Was it too late to be dragged off by Lea so he could have his manly way with me instead?

Releasing another sigh as I took my spot, I turned to face the others with a steely look of determination now. I'd show Anna. Time to put all those acting classes I'd been taking to good use! My team was going to guess my word so fast, they wouldn't even know what hit them. I was going to own this word. I was going to charade the hell out of this word! But first… alright, you stupid word, let's find out what you are. I opened the little slip of paper and squinted down at it.

…ice?

…

What the frick was I supposed to do with ice?!

"All set?" came the sound of Kristoff's voice and my head shot up, eyes wide and skin drained of color. Does this look like the face of someone who's 'all set'?! "Good! Timer starts in three…"

Wait.

"...two…"

No.

"...one…"

Stop!

"...GO!"

Fudge.

He flipped over the small plastic hourglass and I…

...just stood there like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You got this, Elsa!" Anna called out to me. Oh sure, thanks for the vote of confidence now. Too little, too late, Sis. "...any time." No really? And here I was just standing around doing nothing on purpose because I figured that's how you win. "Just… just do it with your body!" Gah, I'm trying!

Okay, think, Elsa, think! Ice… how do I get them to say ice… Ice, ice, ice… ice...berg? ...Icicle? ...ice, ice, baby? Oh come on, Elsa, stop being silly and focus! Ice…

...cube!

Ice cube! Yes, I think I could work with that!

I suddenly snapped into action, my hands blocking out a large shape in the air.

"Oh, oh, square!" Anna said excitedly.

Rayne tipped her head to one side, asking, "A rectangle?"

Kairi chimed in with, "A box!"

I twirled my index finger sideways, indicating for them to keep going before I began outlining the same shape again.

"Television box!"

"Lunch box!"

"Juke box!"

Gah, move on from the infernal word box already, people!

Xion squinted and gave a doubtful, "...microwave?"

"Crate!"

"Toaster!"

"Croaster!" Anna shouted, bouncing up and down in her seat before freezing with a frown. "Wait… that's not a word…"

Despairing and not knowing what else to do, I kept miming the same shape in the air, just more frantically now.

As if doing it faster would somehow help the situation.

"Cube!"

Oh wow, it actually had!

I clapped and nodded vigorously, hopping on the balls of my feet. Alright, onto phase two, which…

...there was no phase two.

Crud.

I had zero idea how to get them from cube to ice cube.

I did not think this through.

Alright. Forget cube. Cube was stupid. Cube is out the window. New plan!

...got it! Okay, no, this was good. They were going to get it for sure this time. It was so obvious, I should've thought of it sooner. When you think of ice, you think of…

...ice skating.

Smiling and sure of myself now, I spread my arms out wide to either side of me and balanced on one foot, like a skater gliding on one blade across a frozen pond.

"Oh, ah… ballerina!"

"Tightrope walker!"

"Er… a tree? Maybe?"

A tree? I looked down at myself. How was this a friggin' tree?!

I locked gazes with Anna and stretched my pose out further for emphasis. Her face was scrunched up in deep thought. Come on, Sis, help me out here. You've seen me ice skate before, you know what it looks like. You got this. Two sisters, one mind. Suddenly her face brightened and she jumped up to her feet. Ha, there it is! I knew she'd get i-

"Michael Jordan!" she yelled, stabbing a finger in my direction.

...nevermind.

Kairi abruptly rocketed up beside her, "Gandalf!"

Anna shook her head, "Pffft, like Gandalf Cube is a thing!"

"And what, like Michael Jordan Cube is?"

Oof, I really shot myself in the foot with that whole cube thing earlier, huh?

As the girls began to bicker amongst themselves while I continued to wobble and sway on one foot, I glanced over towards the boys who were all quietly snickering at our expense. Well, almost all of them. Lea instead seemed rather fascinated by the way I'd stretched and arched my body into its current pose, his eyes half-lidded as they travelled down my curves, his head slightly tilted and teeth still idly gnawing that pencil.

I smirked, a new idea forming inside my head. The girls needed more clues, after all. Planting both feet back on the ground, I bowed at the waist as if reaching down to tie the laces on my imaginary ice skates. As I bent forward, I made sure Lea got just enough of a glimpse down the front of my blouse to give him a hint of something lacy.

He bit the pencil in half with a loud crack!

Okay, I really was enjoying teasing him way too much now.

I think all this power was going straight to my head!

The all-corrupting power of the lingerie...

A gasp suddenly tore out of Anna and she started pointing back and forth between Lea and me, "I saw that! You two secretly communicated! You're working together! Double agent! Cheater!"

My head rocked back and I stammered, "Wha-?! I- How would that even- I am most certainly not-"

"Ahhnnnt!" Kristoff loudly and obnoxiously made a buzzer sound.

"Oh come on, I can't be out of time already!" I told him, crossing my arms.

"You talked, and there's no talking in charades, so consider yourself disqualified," he chuckled, then added, "PS: you actually ran out of time ages ago, we just let you keep going because watching you epically fail so hard was too funny."

Blowing out a tiny huff through my nostrils, I returned to my seat where the rest of the ladies gave me pats on the back and shoulder squeezes to console me. As Anna side-hugged me with one arm, she said, "There, there, Sis, I'm sure the word you got just sucked. Lemme see it," she took the little scrap of paper from me and unfurled it, read it, then blinked. "Ice?!" she snapped incredulously. "You couldn't get ice?!"

I sunk further down into my seat with a groan, pinching the bridge of my nose and making no further comment.

Surprisingly, the game ended in a draw. What I lacked in being able to communicate a concept without the use of words, I more than made up for in my ability to guess what my teammates were acting out. And while I may have been my team's handicap, turns out Lea was theirs. Normally he'd have been one of their stronger players, but it seemed his head just wasn't in the game. Not if the way his eyes kept distractedly drifting over to me while the rest of the boys had to constantly yell at him to focus was any sort of clue.

A couple hours and several rounds later brought us to a point where more than a few stomachs were suddenly loudly grumbling. We decided it was high time to break for dinner, seeing as how cookies and candy canes just weren't cutting it anymore. As everyone else started making their way towards the dining room, I excused myself so I could go freshen up real quick.

As I finished up in the bathroom, I turned the faucet off and flicked my hands a few times to shake away the water before reaching for the towel. Fingers now dried, I took a moment to eye myself in the mirror before straightening my bun and smoothing out my skirt. With a little satisfied nod, I turned, opened the door and-

-came to a screeching stop, looking up and blinking a couple times. "...can I help you?"

Lea smirked back down at me from where he stood in the threshold blocking my exit. Without uttering a word, he just smugly pointed up. My gaze followed his finger and-

Fudge.

Guess what we were both now under?

That's right. He'd moved the mistletoe.

My eyelids drooped at him. "Well now, that's just cheati- mmph!"

His warm lips were suddenly on mine as he grabbed my face in both hands. Unconsciously, my body leaned into his, my hands grasping at his shirt and wrinkling the material as he kissed me long and slow and we just stayed in the doorway there for a few heartbeats, his thumbs tenderly grazing along my cheekbones. Then there was a shift. His breathing turned ragged, his lips more urgent and demanding as a low growl emitted from his throat and Lea started backing me into the bathroom once more, kicking the door shut after him. Without breaking the kiss, he fumbled a hand behind him to lock it then was pushing me up against the sink counter. Lea wasted no time lifting me to sit on top of it, situating his hips between my knees as he hooked his hands beneath them and pulled me up against him roughly. He then wrapped my legs around his waist, fingertips caressing along the stockings, up my thighs and hiking my skirt a bit.

At last he broke the kiss, redirecting his attention to nibble down the side of my throat. Breathless and face hot, I whispered, "Lea, maybe we shouldn't-"

My neck suddenly seared in intense pleasure as his teeth bit down hard at just the right spot and I gasped.

...okay, maybe we should.

He huskily chuckled against my skin, lightly kissing it now as he murmured, "You were saying, Love?"

Desperately trying and failing to unscramble my brain, I began, "I… I was…"

"Mm-hm," he prompted absently as his lips and tongue continued to trail a path down my neck while his fingers pushed the hem of my skirt up a tad further.

"...was saying that… that we, uh…"

"Mm-hm," Lea hummed again, pulling back slightly now with a sly gleam in his crinkled eyes as he reached a hand back over his shoulder, grabbed the back of his tee, and-

Oh wow, there goes the shirt. On the floor. Just like that.

Should.

Lea had just made an extremely compelling argument for should.

I'd mentioned how persuasive he could be, right?

I dazedly watched as he took my hands in his, pressing my palms to his bare chest now as he leaned in to hungrily kiss me again. My fingers took on minds of their own as they began to drift and roam, slowly tracing down the lines and contours of his leanly muscled torso. I shivered as I felt his fingertips skim over the hollow of my shoulder and along my collarbone before settling on the top button of my blouse, tugging to undo it and moving down to the next-

"Elsa!" Several loud, frantic bangs against the door abruptly startled us apart. It took me a second to recognize Sora's voice coming from the other side as he whined, "Hurry up in there, I really, really gotta go!"

"Occupied!" Lea shouted over his shoulder before grinning as he hooked a finger under my chin and bent forward, his lips brushing mine once more.

"...Elsa? Why does your voice sound funny?" Sora asked uncertainly, causing me to snort against Lea's lips. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head, cursing under his breath. The spell had been broken. We both knew it.

I gently pushed him away, scooting myself down off the countertop and snatching his shirt up off the ground to hand to him. Then I took a second to fan myself in a futile effort to cool my face before opening the door and immediately saying, "This isn't what it looks like."

Sora blinked at me. Then his gaze darted to where Lea stood behind me, eyeing Sora sourly as he pulled his tee back on.

...okay, it was exactly what it looked like.

But Sora didn't need to know that!

He blinked again, "Um…"

Deciding to save him from having to come up with a more sophisticated response than that, I simply took Lea's hand in mine and left the bathroom towing him along after me, his dark scowl never leaving Sora as we pushed passed him and headed towards the dining room.

On the way there, we bumped into Rayne in the hallway who was bouncing Cayde in her arms in what seemed to be an attempt to get him to settle down. She arched an eyebrow at me as we drew near. "I thought you were freshening up."

My brow furrowed at her. "...I did."

She eyed me up and down, then snerked. "Sure ya did," was her only remark as she wiggled her eyebrows, shifted the baby to rest against her shoulder and disappeared through the door to join the others for dinner.

I tipped my head to one side, then glanced in a decorative mirror that was hanging on the wall to my left. To say I'd been disheveled would have been the understatement of the century. My skirt was rumpled, my blouse skewed, and I was still bright red from practically head to toe. To top it all off, my hair was free of its bun and positively wild.

"When did you do that?" I narrowed my eyes accusingly at Lea as I did my best to gather and throw it back up into a haphazard bun.

Alright fine, I knew exactly when he did it. I just hadn't even realized he'd done it.

He pursed his lips to one side, shoved his hands into his pockets and gave a tiny shrug as I finished righting my clothes. I then noticed his eyes flick down, suddenly seeming highly fascinated by something. I followed his gaze to spot my top button of my blouse still undone and flashing a scandalous little sneak preview of the lingerie. Blushing harder (the exact opposite of what I wanted to be doing right now, dammit, cheeks!), I hastily re-fastened the button while Lea grinned wolfishly. I pinched his arm, wiping the smirk off his face before taking his hand in mine once more and leading him into the room.

Everyone was seated at the long wooden dining table already and were all too busy laughing and talking over each other to pay much mind to our entrance. As I quietly took a seat, I noticed most of the dishes of piping hot food had already been brought out to the table. Kristoff was bringing out the last of them with my sister's help.

"I'm so happy my man knows how to cook," Anna delightedly chirped as she set down a bowl of yams before giggling and pressing a smooch to Kristoff's cheek. "That way, I don't have to!"

I smiled at the two of them while Lea plonked down into the chair beside me. He laced our fingers together, his thumb idly rubbing along my knuckles as he settled his other elbow onto the table, heavily propped his chin in his palm and heaved a long, drawn out sigh through his nose. His eyes narrowed on Sora as he returned from the restroom and happily crossed the room to take a seat between Riku and Kairi, totally oblivious to the daggers my boyfriend was glaring at him the whole way. Lea then looked away, petulantly huffing out a second grumbly sigh.

It seemed somebody was still a bit pouty over our little interlude in the bathroom being interrupted.

We couldn't have that now, could we? Not on Christmas! Let's see what we can do to perk his spirits a bit.

I shifted ever so slightly in my seat, casually bumping my knee into his as if it were by accident. Lea glanced over at me, quirking an eyebrow. One corner of my lips turned up as I took our still intertwined hands and moved them under the table, releasing his so it could settle on my knee instead. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, his other eyebrow rising to join the first. I grinned coyly, averted my gaze and said nothing, merely waiting for him to take the hint as I reached for the cup of hot cider already waiting for me next to my plate.

Slowly, tentatively, his hand started to slide up my leg, brushing my skirt up with it as he went until he reached the garter. There he paused, his fingertips exploring, grazing over its soft delicate embroidery and toying with it. I could see Lea's face heating as he brought his other hand up to bite down on the knuckle of his curled finger. I just sipped my drink and smiled politely at the conversation the others were carrying on around us. The perfect picture of prim and properness. As if nothing even remotely untoward were happening under the table in the slightest.

Eventually, his hand began tracing the garter down to my inner thigh, discovering where one of the straps connected to it. His fingertips trailed circles over the clasp a couple times before then attempting to follow the strap further up between my legs.

That's when I snagged his wrist, stopping it dead in its tracks and shooting him a flat look.

Sorry, bucko, but that's as far as this little adventure at the dinner table goes.

His muscles were tense. His left eye twitched. But then Lea closed his eyes, released a low, shaky breath and his posture relaxed somewhat as with what appeared to be a considerable amount of visible effort, he willed himself to take his hand back.

"So hey!" Kairi suddenly piped up over everyone else, causing the chatter to die down a bit as all eyes turned towards her. "I brought a buncha Christmas movies with me! You know, all the classics. I was thinking maybe it could be fun for all of us to watch a couple after we finish eating. How does that sound?"

Lea cleared his throat, raking his fingers through his hair as he began, "Actually, El and I had other-"

"What a wonderful idea!" I chimed in brightly before turning to plant a swift peck to the corner of Lea's jawline. "We'd love to, isn't that right, Lea? Since we all know what a fan of the classics you are."

He pressed his lips together into a thin line and simply fixed me with a dull stare.

Oh yes.

No doubt about it.

I was definitely having way, way too much fun teasing him.

It was late. Little Ralphie Parker's father had just thrown aside fistfuls upon fistfuls of packing to liberate the infamous leg lamp from its crate in the movie. A quick glance around the dim room, lit only by the soft glow from the TV screen, revealed everyone to be cozied up together in one way or another as they enjoyed the film.

Rayne was curled up with Riku under a blanket, him turning his head to press an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. Sora was using Kairi's lap as a makeshift pillow, their hands joined and resting atop his chest as they watched. Anna was occupying an armchair with Kristoff seated on the floor before her, using her knees as a backrest while her nimble fingers plaited hundreds of thin, tiny braids into his short blonde hair. Roxas and Xion were taking their turn for some snuggle time with the twins who, even though it was now well past their bedtimes, were being quite obstinate about going to sleep.

Even Saïx had a cuddle buddy, although he was too busy snoring to realize it. It seemed being up during the daylight hours to power through getting all his work done had finally caught up to and taken its toll on him. Back on the couch once more, his laptop lay forgotten on his lap with the screensaver running while he'd conked out nestled into Marshmallow's plush fur beside him. Marshmallow's tail thumped quietly against the couch cushions as he too began to drift off into dreams.

Grinning, I returned my gaze to the movie and settled more comfortably into Lea's side as I laid my head against his chest once again and my arms hugged more tightly around his waist. I could feel him fiddling with a stray lock of my bangs that'd gotten loose, looping and twiddling it between his fingers. Then his hand diverted its attention to instead trail lightly along my bare shoulder, his fingertips drawing invisible patterns there against my skin. It tickled and I involuntarily squirmed against him a bit.

I heard him suck in a soft hiss of breath, shifting in his seat as he hastily removed his hand, fingers splaying and flexing before closing into a fist that he planted firmly on the sofa backrest behind my head now. His knee started furiously jerking up and down. I turned my head to look up at him. His whole body was rigid and his jaw set tight, the very fires of determination seemingly burning in his eyes currently as he focused hard on the movie (perhaps a little too hard), though his gaze kept flicking to the clock hanging on the wall every few seconds.

Frowning, I brought a hand up, brushing my knuckles tenderly over his cheek. Lea stiffened, his whole body suddenly going very still. I altered course to stroke his hair, gently running my fingers through it. His breath hitched as his eyes slowly closed and I could feel him quivering slightly. Then he abruptly snatched my hand, disentangling it from his mess of untamed hair.

I blinked at him.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the back of my hand before settling it on his knee as he ducked his head, bringing his lips right next to my ear as he half whispered, half growled, "Love, it's taking every last ounce of restraint I have not to just throw you on the coffee table and take you in a primal cavemanly fashion, so unless you want to give our friends a bit of a show, I suggest you stop."

...oh dear.

It seemed I'd made him wait a little too long and he was dangerously close to his breaking point.

Thus I decided to finally and at long last take pity on him.

It was time.

Time to let him unwrap his gift.

I stood up, spinning on my heel to face Lea. He stared up at my quizzically, probably leery of getting his hopes up at this point. Smiling sweetly, I reached down, taking his hands in mine and pulling him up to his feet as well as I announced to the rest of the room, "If you'll excuse us, Lea's not feeling too hot, so we're going to head to bed now." His hand still in mine, I led him out of the room and towards the stairs as the others called out a chorus of feel-betters and goodnights after us.

Reaching the second floor, I stepped through our door ahead of him and cast a brief glance about as I stood in the center of the bedroom, taking it in. The traditional rustic wooden walls decorated with a couple small pieces of hanging art here and there. The pair of plump armchairs in one corner next to a homey little fireplace, currently unlit and cold but with plenty of logs just waiting for a spark. The antique wardrobe and dresser off to one side, the door off to another leading into the adjoining private bathroom. The king-sized bed stacked high with blankets and quilts for fighting off the chill later on in the dead of night.

The muted click of Lea shutting the door behind us caught my attention, but I didn't turn to look at him, merely waited. There was a pause. One that was so long and quiet, I almost began to wonder if he'd left for some reason. But then I could all but feel him standing behind me, feel the warmth practically radiating off his body just a few short inches away from mine, sending a tiny chill up my spine and a small flutter through my chest.

His hands found their way to my hair, a simple tug pulling the bun free once more and sending my platinum locks cascading down my back. I shook it out a little more, resisting the urge to shiver at the pleasant tingling sensation brought on by him slowly, almost reverently combing his fingers through the strands. Then his fingertips were trailing along my shoulders and ghosting lightly down my arms where they came to settle comfortably on my hips. I could feel him nestling his face into my hair, pressing a kiss into it as he inhaled deeply, humming low in pleasure as his grip on my hips tightened and his body pressed more firmly up against my back.

At the gentle insistence of his hands, I turned and faced him now. Gosh, he was so tall. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I wasn't. It was moments like these - moments where no words were spoken and there was so little space between us - that reminded me just how tall he truly was. Not to mention how handsome he was or painfully gorgeous those startlingly green eyes of his were, especially while they were hooded and swirling as darkly as they were now. My pulse couldn't help but pick up the tempo beneath his heated gaze.

The air felt charged between us, nearly unbearably so. I was almost surprised Lea hadn't simply pounced the second we were alone. The slight tremble to his hand as he brought it up to stroke my cheek suggested that might be exactly what he wanted to do but was holding himself back. Perhaps he was going slow because he was wary of this moment being snatched away from him yet again like they all had been so far today. Perhaps he simply wanted to take his time and savor this. Whatever the case may be, as his fingers tangled themselves in my hair and he leaned in now, there was no doubt in my mind all that was about to change. I knew the second his lips met mine, all bets would be off. That last shred of restraint he was barely clinging on to would snap and all that pent up frustration he'd been keeping in check all day would be unleashed and given free rein. My face burned and my heart hammered as he closed the distance, so near now that I could feel his breath warming my lips as he murmured my name and-

"TOOTHPASTE!" I suddenly blurted out loudly.

He jerked back, eyes wide and both eyebrows skyrocketing as if to ask, Um… sorry, who what now?

Which honestly? Couldn't blame him.

So, mouth? Care to explain yourself?

I stammered nonsensically for a bit, wringing my hands together before finally pointing a thumb over my shoulder towards the restroom and managing to get out, "For brush teeth… make m-mint fresh in mouth."

Ah yes, clear as mud now. Thanks, mouth. Your gift for gab never ceases to amaze and astound.

My oh so eloquent words hung in the air between us as we just stared at each other for a few seconds. Then I bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me. Pressing my back to it, I buried my face in my hands and slid down to sit on the floor.

Smooth going there, little Miss Casanova. Just really know how to set the mood, huh?

I groaned and banged the back of my head against the door.

Oh god, Lea was going to think I freaked out because of him. That I didn't want to, hrm… be intimate with him. But I did! I loved being intimate with him! It was something he was very good at! Very, very good! Amazing, in fact! But what did I go and do the second I had a chance to do exactly that with him?

I'd panicked and choked, that's what!

Because this time was different.

This time, lingerie was involved.

Putting it on and teasing him with it was one thing. But lingerie had implications. It set expectations. You were supposed to, I don't know… act sexy… be sexy… you know, that whole feminine wiles things! And my feminine wiles? Still a work in progress. Sure, it was something I'd gotten better at since Lea and I had started dating, but trust me, I still had a long way to go. And yet here I'd gone, riling him up all day and now that the moment had finally arrived where I had to deliver the goods, I'd…

I'd gotten a bit of stage fright, okay?! So sue me!

...maybe I was just being silly. Overthinking all of this. Putting too much pressure on myself for no reason. This was Lea we were talking about here, after all. I could go out there and do the least attractive impression of a sloth in a negligee doing the chicken dance while yodeling and he'd still probably find it sexy. (...dear lord, the fool honestly might. Not even joking anymore.) The point was that he loved me and I loved him, so this shouldn't be such a big deal. One teeny bit of silky, lacy fabric shouldn't be a big deal. Yeah, this was supposed to be fun.

So, missy, you march your little hiney back out there and have fun, dammit!

Nostrils flaring, I pressed a hand to the door behind me and pushed myself up onto my feet once more, turning to look at myself in the mirror. My reflection had fists balled at her hips, her shoulders squared, her head held high, and a look of ironclad resolve flashing in her blue eyes. I leaned forward, planting one hand on the sink countertop and using the other to jab a finger up against the mirror surface as I hissed, "Now listen up and listen good, me! You're going to go out there and… and… knock his friggin' socks off!"

She blinked back at me, visibly gulping with a tiny frown.

My shoulders sagged. "...I think."

Atta girl, that's the fire and can-do attitude we like to hear!

Face hardening once more, I gave myself a firm nod, straightened up and gingerly began unbuttoning my blouse. Once I'd shed it and tossed it to the floor, I slipped out of my skirt as well. Then I stood in front of the mirror inspecting myself, cheeks surely roasting hotter than the fires of Mount Doom. My lips pursed to one side. I awkwardly settled a hand against my right hip. Then I swept my hair forward over one shoulder. Only to brush it back again a second later.

Couldn't decide which way had a more 'come hither' look to it.

Narrowing my eyes, I whisked it forward again.

Then back.

Forward.

Back.

Fo-

Ugh, forget it and move on already!

Just then, I remembered something. Hesitantly, I turned my head, my eyes drifting almost unbidden towards our suitcases cluttered together in one corner of the spacious bathroom. Not really sure why Lea had put them in here when he'd dropped them off earlier. Maybe I'd asked him to and it'd simply slipped my mind. Maybe he'd just been looking for a place to stow them where they'd be out of our way in anticipation of tonight's activities.

Whatever the case may be, they were in here with me now. And that meant…

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I approached them, locating mine and unzipping it. Flipping the lid open, I stared inside and paused in a moment of indecision. Then I grit my teeth and plunged my hand in, digging down deep past my clothes in search of the thing.

You know.

That thing.

The one Anna had made me buy.

I felt my fingers bump into it and I closed them around it, holding my breath before pulling it out. Then I stared down at what I now held in my hand.

A riding crop.

You read that right.

A friggin' riding crop.

Did I have the first clue what to do with it?

Not really, no.

Was I going to bring it out with me anyway?

...sure, why not?

I mean, I was already a bit of a nervous wreck over this whole ordeal, so it was hard to imagine this could make it any worse.

Go big or go home, as they say.

Heart pounding in my ears and insides twisting into a billion, quadrillion knots, I turned to face the door, chin hitched and back straight.

Slinky lingerie? Check. Riding crop? Check… apparently.

Operation Sexy Time was a go.

Let's do this.

I bravely charged forth.

And by that, I mean I opened the door just enough to cautiously poke my head out for a peek.

But I bravely poked my head out cautiously, dammit!

I spotted Lea dejectedly lying on the bed now, sprawled out on his back and smothering his face with a pillow. Heh… off to a good start here. Opening the door wider, I quietly crept a few steps into the room. With how high my blush had cranked up to at this point, it was a wonder I hadn't burnt to a crisp already. My empty hand stiffly found its way to my hip once more. I swept my hair forward again. Then grimaced, pushing it back. Then forw-

Gah, quit fussing, you stupid hands, and just get on with it already!

As Lea still seemed unaware of my presence and with me at a loss for how else to get his attention, I anxiously cleared my throat.

He didn't budge, just groaned into the pillow and muffled out, "What new way have you come to torment me with now, devil woman?"

Such a drama queen. Shaking my head, I began, "Lea-"

"Is there even really lingerie under there or is that just more of your cruel, twisted mind games to string me along and torture me?"

I rolled my eyes with a tiny huff of a snort and tried again, "Lea."

Face still under the pillow, he struck a defiant finger up high into the air, "Well not this guy! Nu-uh, no siree bob! I am done dancing to your sadistic whims! Begone, devious succubus, and tempt me no more with your-"

"Lea!" I snapped exasperatedly, unconsciously smacking my crop against my leg.

Oof, that'd stung a bit.

But it seemed to be what finally caught his attention. He hooked a thumb beneath his pillow now, lazily hoisting it up just enough for him to lift his head and look at me. Then he bolted up into a sitting position, back ramrod straight and eyes all but popping out of his head as the pillow tumbled to the mattress behind him. His wide-eyed gaze met mine. Then darted down to the lingerie. Over to the riding crop in my hand. Then he was madly scrambling to the foot of the bed, sitting on his knees there with his hands gripping the edge of the bedframe hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he heavily and rapidly breathed through his nose.

I just stood there, flushing more furiously and resisting the urge to self-consciously shift my weight from one foot to the other.

OhgodwhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdowhatdoIdowhatdoI-

In a state of mild panic, I abruptly thrust the crop towards him and blurted out, "Shirt. Off."

...sure, that works.

Not missing a beat and faster than should have been humanly possible, Lea yanked his top up over his head and chucked it across the room. Then his eyes fastened on me once more, seemingly eagerly awaiting my next instruction.

Uh…

Nowwhatnowwhatnowwhatnowwhatnowwhatnow-

"Knees," I pointed at a spot on the floor in front of me, "Now."

In his haste to comply, he stumbled and fell out of the bed, crashing into the floor but was quick to recover and prop himself up on his knees before me.

Fudgewhatnextwhatnextwhatnextwhat-

Swat your thigh with the thingie again!

...I'm sorry, brain, do what now?

Well, I mean… it seemed to be highly well received just a second ago, so…

Pulse racing, I hesitated for a split second before piercing the air with another sharp thwack of the riding crop hitting my skin. His muscles visibly grew taut and tense, but he stayed put, his throat emitting an impatient whimper.

...was it really this easy?

...this actually was kind of fun…

Feeling some of the nervous tension start to ebb from my body, I slowly began to circle him now, lightly tapping the lash of the crop into the palm of my other hand as I murmured, "Now… what, oh what am I going to do with you?"

Lea released a deep, throaty chuckle. "...I might be able to think of a thing or two…"

Coming to a stop in front of him once again, I bowed down to his eye level, using the riding crop to lift his chin as I grinned at him. "I'm listening."

For the record, zero sleep was had that Christmas night.

The lingerie did not survive Lea's ravenous onslaught.

We may have also slightly broken that antique dresser.

Oops. Guess they just don't make those things as sturdy as they used to.

Author's Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! And based on this chapter, have another (belated) merry Christmas xD Figures that my longest chapter to date had to be the friggin' lingerie chapter xD I am almost ashamed of myself… BUT NOT REALLY! No regrets, yolo! Lol, I hope you all had as much fun reading this as I had fun writing it :D

Fun Fact: This was actually the first bonus chapter idea I came up with for this story. It came to me about a year ago while I was still working on chapter… 17 I think? I wanted to immediately start writing it, but I restrained myself, wanting to finish the main story first. But having a whole year with this one-shot in the back of my mind is probably why it ended up being so long, cuz I kept coming up with more little ideas to squeeze into it xD Then of course, I started coming up with the ideas for the other bonus chapters that came before it, forcing myself to wait even longer to write it but aaahhhhhh, yay, I finally got to this one! And did I include Esmeralda's Secrets all the way back in chapter 19 specifically with this bonus chapter in mind? Yes, yes I did x'D Of course, I knew this whole time Esmeralda herself was gonna be making an appearance, but Frollo turned out to be a last minute addition that came to me as I was writing the chapter. But including him made me realize I had a missed opportunity: on one of Lea's and Elsa's many visits to the mall's clock tower which has BELLS, they should've bumped into a certain hunchback who's in charge of maintaining said bells xD Ah well, even tho they never saw him in the story, I've made it canon now: that is officially Quasimodo's job in this AU xD And he's always embarrassed about his adoptive father protesting with his picket signs outside the store of the cute girl he has a crush on xD Poor guy!

So many lines I snagged from the video games and the movies as references this chapter, I wonder if you guys were able to catch every single little one I slipped in? xD And obviously Elsa's fave musical that's playing at Broadway is Frozen 2 (since that's where Show Yourself that she sang back in auditions was from) but I didn't want to CALL it that in the story, but had zero ideas for a clever replacement title, so it didn't get a name xD And while I gave a few details here and there, for the most part I left the lingerie Elsa purchased vague on purpose - I figure some things are just best left to the imagination ;P Lea doesn't usually have such a one track mind as he did this chapter… or maybe he does and he's just usually more tactful about concealing it xD Either way, Lea ALSO isn't usually presented with the possibility of his very hot girlfriend dressing up in sexy lingerie for him, so can ya really blame the guy for being a bit of a horndog this chapter? I think not xP Worry not however, he'll be back to his normal, (slightly) more classy self next chapter xD You can bet tho that now that he knows Elsa has been to the dirty store in the mall, that he has since dragged her back there on more than one occasion now so they could make a few purchases as a couple, hehehe :3 But like I said all the way back at the very beginning, despite the main subject of the chapter, it was still all fairly tame, right? I haven't yet crossed THAT particular line… I may come right up to the line, dance wildly and with reckless abandon on top of the line, but not cross it xD I dunno if I'll ever be brave enough to write a full-on lemon, but maybe one day…. Hehehehe…

Anyhoo, tis with a sad and heavy heart that I must announce that this will probably be my last update for a while. Don't worry, there's more to come! I still have at least 3 more bonus chapters for this story planned! However, I've been working on almost nothing but this story for over a year now and I've finally hit a point where I need a break xD I think I'm gonna take a few weeks and have a breather from writing in general, but trust me, that won't last for long before the itch takes hold of me once again and I'll NEED to scratch it! When that happens, I'm not sure what I'm gonna work on next - it'll be Axelsa, without question, that's just my brand yo, it has bewitched my very SOUL xD But WHICH Axelsa story is the question! Will I update one of my older incomplete stories over on FFN/AO3 or will I get back to work on that new story I have the first 3 chapters written of that I've yet to share with you all? Guess we'll seeeeeeeeeeee xD I might eventually start posting some of my older stories here on tumblr too - they’re all incomplete currently tho and I was hoping to finish them before I started sharing them here, but I might not be able to resist in the end. I have commissioned a couple artists recently, so hopefully you’ll be seeing those soon! I’ll have more of my own personal fanart to share too in the hopefully near future, I just need to wait for my hand to recover as I sprained it being the irresponsible dope that I am and have had to put my doodling on hold while it recuperates xD All of that is to say, you’ll be hearing from me and my Axelsa obsession again in some form or another in the near future, you can count on it!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

#kingdom hearts #frozen #elsa #axel #fanfiction #lea #fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #kh fanfiction #kh fanfic #frozen fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfic #axelsa #fluff #romcom #slow burn #KH3 #my writing #ice cream and fire oven pizza #rare pair #crossover pairing #humor #snark #fake dating au

[himbowelsh]

If you want to, 9 or 19 with webgott? I hope you have a wonderful week 💕

i’ve got another prompt for #19, so how about #9?

sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy  💋 (accepting!)  9.  one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other 

The stars are brighter tonight than any other time in recent memory... and it’s not like Austrian skies aren’t impressive as a rule. The nights shine brighter in the countryside than they ever did over the bustle of New York City. No matter how many times he sees the skies alight, David will never get used to it. Something divine shimmers in each blinking star, something earnest and mythical in the constellations strewn like New Years’ confetti across the sky. He is not a spiritual man, but Austrian nights make him feel like he could be, maybe.

Tonight, the sky is putting in extra effort. Each star feels like a beacon, calling him away from war and mourning. One of them, he muses, might be Janovec. 

He spun off the road just that morning, with little warning and no fanfare. One second, he was alive. The next... the war had claimed him too, and he didn’t even have a bullet wound to show for it.

The men who died on D-Day were heroes. David saw them drown in waist-deep swamps... gurgle to death on blood and bullets... strangled by their own risers and left hanging from trees like Halloween decorations. Heroic deaths, all of them, and their parents must claim some sense of pride in knowing their sons lives ended, not in agony and fear, but in resolute patriotism.

American heroes still sob for their mothers in their last moments. David still hears their screams.

Isn’t it such a privilege to die for one’s country?

Janovec didn’t even get that. He wasn’t taken out by enemy gunfire — only it was an American Jeep, and an enemy tree. Hoobler didn’t die in the heat of battle. His killer was a German pistol, but an American hand. Van Klinken caught machine gun fire, but he bled to death on Dutch soil, with Dutch dirt in his mouth and Dutch ash mixing with his tears.

Will they be called heroes, now that the fighting is done?

Austrian summer is warm, but there’s always a chill this high up. It bites at David’s exposed skin. He draws himself up a bit tighter, knees pulling close to his chest. There’s no real danger of overbalancing. The street may be a dizzying distance below, but this part of the rooftop is steady and nearly flat. He’d never have climbed out otherwise. David is not in the business of risking his own life unnecessarily. He fought a war, which ought to be enough; he’s got no intention of dying now that it’s done.

(Done for some, in limbo for others. In a few months, will they all be speaking Japanese?)

It’s chilly up here, but quiet, and perfectly dark — exactly what he was looking for. The sky sprawls above him, endless and alive with constellations. Each one welcomes him, calls out to him, tugs at the exposed threads of his soul. There, glistening brightly off to the right — is that Janovec? There, the one with the steady glow — Hoobler? Or maybe it’s Jackson — maybe those twin stars, glittering playfully side by side, are Muck and Penkala. Maybe there’s a place in the sky for more — hundreds, thousands, him —

“You gotta be kidding me.”

The unexpected voice jars him, like waking from a deep sleep. David flails. If the roof were any more perilous, he’d have certainly gone over the edge — but if this occurs to the intruder clambering out the rooftop window, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Of all the places — ow, fuck —“ Joe Liebgott smacks his head against the top of the frame. He’s too lanky; on the ground, he carries his long limbs with the grace of a feline, but he clearly wasn’t made for cat burglary. David sucks his lip, determined not to laugh, as Joe awkwardly forces his too-big body through the opening. “Of all the places to get yourself killed, Web, you know how to pick ‘em.”

“Figured it would have happened by now, in some way or another,” he replies with an easy shrug. “Why wait for anyone’s help?”

Joe says nothing — unless another muffled curse as his foot gets caught on the frame counts. By the time he manages to haul himself out onto the rooftop, he’s got a tear in his shirt sleeve, and multiple bruises to show for the effort. Never mind the fact that David didn’t invite him, or tell him where he was going; Joe still huffs at him as if it’s somehow his fault.

“People who can’t climb out windows typically shouldn’t,” is all David has to say on the subject.

“If they were made to be climbed out of, they’d be bigger.” Joe inches forward on his hands and knees, peering over the ledge with his typical morbid curiosity. A low whistle echoes through the quiet night. With a sigh, David settles back in his comfortable spot, watching the interloper warily. He doesn’t know why Joe’s here. Nevermind what he wants — he’s never been able to figure that out, and they’ve known each other for nearly a year now.

Instead of explaining himself, as he can usually be relied on to do, Joe goes quiet. It’s... somehow worse than chatter. Silence is heavy, like a lead blanket draped over their shoulders, weighing them both down. It feels more intimate, somehow. There’s not much space on this rooftop, only a few feet of distance between them, but the longer the quiet stretches on the more that distance shrinks to inches.

If only he’d brought cigarettes — that’s something to share, and a good excuse for sitting alone at night. As it is, if Joe asks what he’s doing out here... David doesn’t know what he’d say.

Joe isn’t paying attention to him, though. His gaze, too, is trained on the sky. No one can escape it tonight.

Unexpected, unbidden, Joe breaks the silence. “You ever think about what’s up there?”

David tenses. Too close to home. “I mean... sure. Sometimes. I guess... lots of gasses, and dust particles, water vapor... and that’s just in our atmosphere.”

Joe casts him a glance that’s half-annoyed, in the way that isn’t really annoyed at all. David hates how  accustomed he’s grown to all those outspoken looks. “You know what I mean,” Joe says — and David says nothing, because he does.

“I used to... think there had to be something up there. Not really people, y’know? My Mom, she tried to raise us the right way — when our pet hamster died, she told us about immortal souls, olam haba, everything that’s supposed to come after. Except I never really...” He gestures for a minute, snapping his fingers like the words elude him. “Got it. My Mom will give you her opinion on anything, but even she can’t say for sure what happens when you die. It was all too hazy for me as a kid. I didn’t know what to look for, or... what it meant.”

David tries to understand. He comes up short, in ways he can’t identify but is painfully aware of. Even so, he tries.

“My mother’s family was Protestant. She used to say there were angels watching over us all the time.” His nose crinkles. “Just to get me to eat my Brussels sprouts, I think. The angels saw me feed them to the dog.”

Joe laughs, sound sharp as a knife in the gentle night. David can’t say why he’s pleased.

“Exactly, though. You Christians pretend to have it all figured out. God’s up there, he’s watching everything, and when your time’s up you’ll either go upstairs or downstairs.” His lips purse, the way they do when he’s trying and failing not to grin. “Jews are still arguing about how many heavens there are.”

“What do you think?” He asks the question before he means to, without really thinking. As soon as it’s out, David regrets it... but Joe doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Aliens. Real ‘War of The Worlds’ type shit.” Finally, he allows himself to grin, and it only widens as he keeps talking. “Like to think Flash Gordon’s saving the universe up there somewhere. Maybe Superman too, but he’s kind of a chump. Probably some planets we ain’t found yet, suns and moons we ain’t seen.” He’s hesitates. “But I think I like that other idea now... that maybe there are people up there. Maybe there is something... something real after.”

He falls quiet. His hands are braced in front of him, taut as straining metal. David studies them, and doesn’t dare look at Joe.

“How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.

David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”

“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them, so he forcibly tears himself away. Wherever Joe’s mind is going, he can’t — possibly shouldn’t — follow.

Guessing isn’t safe. Wondering isn’t safe. Seeking insight into Joe Liebgott’s mind, when it’s so… enigmatic to Webster’s own has never been, and will never be, safe.

The acrid smell of tobacco startles him. When he looks back over, Joe has lit up a cigarette, and is blowing a long cloud of smoke against the black sky.

“No, really, I’m fine. Thanks for offering,” David drawls, inching closer. Joe’s eyes flicker towards him; his mouth curls up around the cigarette. 

“Only got this one left, Web. If I had one to offer, you know I would.” He clicks his tongue. “I’m generous like that.”

“A modern day Santa Claus, huh?”

“Ho ho,” Joe replies.

David reaches for the cigarette. He doesn’t know why — it’s not like he really wants a smoke — but the idea of doing nothing, of letting silence linger between them as they both stew in their own thoughts, is worse. Also, if Joe gets a bit of relief via Lucky Strike, he’s got no right to hoard it. Determined, David leans forward, even as Joe angles away from him.

“Yeah, no, nice try.”

“Share! You — quit moving, we’re going to fall off the roof.”

“You’ll fall, and I won’t catch you.”

“I’ll drag you down with me!”

He catches the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, and deftly plucks it from Joe’s grasp. Victorious, David brandishes it high, letting a thin stream of smoke blaze into the night. Over the chorus of Joe’s curses, he takes a drag. It goes too deep into his lungs, too quickly; he ends up sputtering, lurching forward in a chest-rattling burst of coughs. His grip on the cigarette goes loose, and it falls from his hand.

“Shit, Web!”

David is too preoccupied with his lungs turning themselves inside-out to pay attention to Joe… until a hand finds his back, rubbing steady curves between his shoulder blades. He sputters, but Joe is there, coaching him through it, until he’s finally able to take a breath without gagging.

“Oh boy,” he mutters. “Oh god.” Then, realizing Joe’s last cigarette has fumbled straight off the roof, to the cobblestones down below, he hisses. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t bother.” Joe is still rubbing his back, even though there’s no need to — really, he’s fine. “I can get more when I need ‘em.”

“No, I’ll — I’ll give you some of mine when we get back inside.” He breaks off with another harsh cough. By the time he’s done, David is spent; only a moment too late does he realize he’s slumped back against Joe’s chest.

The other man doesn’t pull away. Joe supports him, easing David upright and bracing his weight. He handles him like a delicate thing… and from Joe Liebgott, who David has never known to be delicate in his life, the treatment is jarring. David looks up at him, gaze pulled as though caught in a magnetic current; he finds Joe staring back. His eyes are dark as ever, still lit with starlight. His lips are wet.

“You okay?” Joe asks.

“Yeah. Fine,” David replies.

“I ain’t mad, Web,” he says, “but I would’ve liked a little more of that smoke before you tried to eat it.”

“I got enough of it to share.”

David’s not sure what the hell he's saying. It doesn’t matter. Joe’s lips twitch.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His head tilts. David’s eyes close. A second later, Joe’s mouth is on his, warm and tender, and he couldn’t exhale even if he remembered how.

Maybe David’s the first one to cup Joe’s face; maybe Joe’s hand is the first to find his hair; maybe they're twined together for hours, or only a few precious seconds. When they break apart, none of it matters. Joe’s eyes are wide, pitch black. Surely his incredulity must be reflected back in David’s own face, because right now, his heart wants to pound out of his chest.

Joe’s hand is still on his face. He only realizes this when a rough-padded thumb caresses his cheekbone, unspeakably tender. “You okay, Web?” Joe asks again.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice shuddering. “Incredible.”

He’s not sure who moves forward then — it’s probably both of them at once, seizing that impossible instinct driven only by heat and instinct. Everywhere Joe’s skin brushes against his, his nerves explode into an electric shower; his mouth is hot and needy, consuming David’s as soon as they find each other again. Joe draws him in like he’s the only thing left that matters, and David is helpless in his desire to give himself up.

Please, he thinks desperately, kiss me like I matter. Kiss me like we’re both alive, and going to stay that way. Kiss me like the stars aren’t watching, and we’ll live forever.

Joe’s lips are a fantasy, and they thoroughly carry him away. For a moment, he lets himself go. Nothing matters but the pressure of Joe’s lips, sucking dark bruises along his jaw, or the determined hands that grasp at his shoulders. In the heat battle, you learn to zero your focus in on one thing, and that concentration keeps you alive. This is a different heat, a different ear waging between them, but David gives every ounce of attention to Joe all the same. He drives him forward, keeps them moving even when their hearts are beating out an urgent symphony in twin ribcages, and David’s is ready to burst.

“Joe —“ He gasps, over the sound of the other man’s harsh breathing. Joe shushes him, fingers brushing his swollen lips. David leans into the touch. Joe leans back to accommodate him. They both lean too far.

“Shit!”

For a second, it’s blind terror — the ground sliding away beneath them, fumbling for a hand of foothold as the ledge looms closer… 

David catches them both, his heels catching on a gutter and halting his descent. Joe’s still holding onto him, so the momentum carries over. They’re dangerously far down the inclined roof; a certain broken back looks twenty feet below, the ledge within spitting distance. They don’t go over, though, and that makes the difference.

After a moment, Joe exhales a great, shuddering breath. One hand runs through his hair. “Fuck. Jesus fuck. Just lost two decades off my life.”

“Better than losing it all,” David mutters. He’s determined not to look over the ledge. Unconsciously, his grip tightens around Joe; he doesn’t realize Joe’s holding him just as fast until a small tug pulls him back from the roof.

“Come on,” Joe mutters. “Let’s get the hell outta here before we both end up weird stains on the ground.”

He doesn’t need to tell him twice. David casts one last look up at the night sky — serene, twinkling like it knows a secret but doesn’t dare say — before huffing, and clambering up in Joe’s wake.

Existential questions can wait until morning. Joe, on the other hand, has never been good at waiting.

#webgott #david webster #joseph liebgott #my writing #this is?? my first time approaching joe's jewish faith in any substantial way #and i was kinda uncertain about it bc its a topic i've always treated with kid gloves #i'm NOT jewish so did a lot of research beforehand about jewis belief in the afterlife #not sure how i handled it but... hmm #good-night-space-kid