#Imagine giving him a kiss after a lava bath | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ranposlittle · 4 years

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Hey hun, can I request a fluffy scenario where Chuuya’s tall, curvy, fem s/o has a daddy kink but she never told him about it because all of her past s/os have made fun of her for it, but he finds out anyway and they talk about it? Please?

Genre: SFW, Fluff, A bit of crack

Tags: Daddy kink, Comfort

A/N: Here you go, anon! I hope this was fluffy enough (o´･_･) I really wanted to keep it light and fun so I hope this will bring a smile on your face, even if it's just a tiny one hehe enjoooy~ ♥️

***

"Babe, I'm back," Chuuya called out when he entered the room.

No answer. He wrinkled his eyebrows in thought.

"Are they still out?" He asked himself and took his phone out from his pocket, promptly dialing your number.

As he waited for you to pick up, he heard a faint buzzing somewhere in the room. He scanned the vicinity and located your phone on the table beside the bed. He inquisitively approached it, confirming that it is indeed your phone but something else caught his attention.

💕✨ DADDY 😜💦 ✨💕

The peculiar caller ID kept on flashing on the screen and his head tilted in curiosity. When your phone stopped buzzing and the line on his end beeped, he dialled your number again. Your phone started vibrating once more on the table.

💕✨ DADDY 😜💦 ✨💕

It once again flashed. Chuuya's mind raced for a moment, trying to put two and two together. And then it clicked.

The bathroom door swung open and you came out on your bath robe and a towel on your hands as you ruffle your hair dry.

"Oh, hey! I didn't know you'd be back so soon," you cheerfully made your way to him and leaned down to kiss the shorter male's cheek. "I would've hugged you but, I'm wet."

You proceeded to the closet and examined your clothes, figuring out what you'd be wearing today. Chuuya grabbed your phone from the table and held it up.

"So," he drawled out, "'daddy', huh?"

You hummed in query about what he said as you place some clothes onto the bed, weighing your options for an outfit.

"Why is my caller ID on your phone says 'daddy'?" A devilish smirked appeared on his boyish face.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Your heart thumped out of your chest and you almost felt dizzy as your mind panicked and blanked out of any logical response or reaction. You gulped thickly as you felt like an enemy spy who just got their identity exposed and is now about to face prosecution.

You stomped towards him and harshly grabbed your phone on his hand and held it to your chest. "It's nothing!" You blurted out and tried to get away from him but Chuuya caught your arm.

"C'mon, (Y/N)~" He teased as he spun you around to face him. "It's not that big of a deal. Just tell me if that's what you–"

His playful expression faded away when he saw your distressed face. Your eyes turned away from him, your jaws clenched tightly, and your eyebrows knitted together.

"Hey," he cooed at you, looking up to your eyes and rubbing your arms, "I'm sorry, I– I was just kidding. I didn't mean to upset you."

He craned his neck and gave you a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sorry. Okay?"

Chuuya searched for any changes in your expression and when there wasn't any, his hands slid down your arms and he turned, ready to leave the room. He knows that it's best to give you some space when you clam up like this and he'll just have to wait when you are ready to open up. He didn't know why it upset you that much but either way, he's not going to push you.

"I'm not mad," you explained, making him stop on his tracks, "I'm just... embarrassed."

He walked back towards your direction and held your hand. He guided you to the bed and you sat beside him at the edge of the mattress.

"Talk to me," Chuuya said in a mellow tone. You know that whenever he say those words, you'll have to talk. It's like an unspoken rule in your relationship. It's his way of encouraging you to speak your mind and whatever it is that you have to say, he'll be listening with an open mind and an open heart.

You fiddled with your thumbs and you chewed on your lips, the words you want to say coming up to your throat like hot lava as you feel the weight of Chuuya's stare.

"I have a daddy kink, okay?!" You replied a little louder than you intended so you adjusted your voice and spoke in a softer tone. "Feel free to make fun of me."

"The hell would I do that?" Chuuya said in obvious disbelief.

"Every one that I've been with before has," you sighed, your eyes dropping to the floor as old memories flashed in your mind. "They say that it's weird, or just plain wrong. I guess it's also got to do with what I look like? Maybe they think it's unfitting for someone like me to be into something like that? Maybe they're expecting me to be all 'mature' or 'grown up'." You said making quotation marks with your fingers. "I don't know."

Chuuya stayed silent and you took it as a sign to keep talking. "I was scared to tell you because you might think the same and you'll get disgusted by me and—"

"Are you kidding me?" Chuuya roared all of a sudden, being the easily excitable guy that he is. "That shit's hot, you know."

You stared at him with hopeful eyes, a gentle smile making its way on his lips and it seems like a boulder was lifted off of your chest and you can breathe freely again.

"You– you think so?"

"Yeah," he answered, crinkling his nose. "I mean, it's not like it's the weirdest thing out there. You should see what other people are into. I met a guy once who likes licking armpits, now that's weird. Unless you're into that, too."

"Eww, no," you laughed heartily as he moved closer to hug you and tickled you lightly in the process.

"I mean, if you are, then just tell me. Maybe I'll change my opinion about it," he teased before wrapping his arms firmly around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Seriously though, there's nothing to be ashamed of. You're just perfect to me," he muttered. "I love you, every bit of you. Don't think that there's anything that can change that, okay? You don't have to hide any part of yourself, especially with me. No matter how bizarre you think it is."

You softly smiled back at him and nodded, feeling your chest warmed up with happiness. You affirmed in your thoughts that he's indeed like the sun. With his blazing personality and burning passion, he's a force that can burn you if you're not too careful, but his presence also brings warmth and comfort; something that you would still long for in a cold winter. Chuuya leaned over and kissed your lips, showing you all the affection he has for you in every languid movement of his mouth.

"I still think it's weird, though," you said after the kiss. Chuuya frowned at you. "I mean, can you imagine? Calling someone who's shorter than me my 'daddy'?" You added, turning the tables on him and giving him a sly smirk.

Chuuya was gobsmacked by your sudden smugness and you shrieked as he pull you down on the bed with his immense strength, making you go into fits of giggles as he wrestle and pinned your long limbs against the mattress.

"You don't have to imagine, babe. I'll just show you," Chuuya said with a low sultry voice and a mischievous look on his face.

The bed creaked and rustled as your wet hair soaked the pillow beneath you; and your bathrobe thumped as it was discarded on the wooden floor.

#chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #bsd chuuya #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara headcanons #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bungou stray dogs imagine #bsd scenarios #bsd headcanons #bsd hcs #bsd imagines #bsd #chuuyamw

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

Speak No Evil (Part 8)

She steps onto the sand and crinkles her nose. She has only just gotten off of the boat, and already there is a heap of sand in her shoes. She shivers at the grating sensation. The island smells fresh of mango and pineapple and of exotic meats and fish over a cooking fire. Several of them, all across the beach. The ocean has its own array of scents and Azula is fond of none of them; the seaweed is too potent and putridly sweet and the salt is too poignant.

“Need help with that?”

Azula yanks her luggage away from him. She shakes her head, she doesn’t need nor want his help.

“I’m just trying to help.” He mumbles.

Azula frowns to herself before handing him her smallest suitcase.

“Why don’t you let the servants carry them in for you?”

It is more or less to prove to herself that she is more than capable of taking care of herself, even if her mind is betraying her again. She is going to have to get used to helping herself anyhow; she can’t keep a single friend or lover. Instead she mouths, ‘faster’.

“If you’re sure.”

She is very certain. She makes her way to the top of the staircase and drops her luggage in the foyer. She brought it this far, now she’ll leave the easier job to the servants. “We can go down to the beach.” Zuko offers, he looks her up and down. “I don’t think you’ll need your armor for this.”

Azula rummages through her luggage and finds herself a beach dress.

“Why don’t you wear your swimsuit, in case we want to go swimming.”

She is certain that she doesn’t. Each time she fully immerses herself in water she finds herself overtaken by a sensation of failure and doom. She feels cold all over and she drowns in it. She doesn’t need another reminder of what she has lost and become. She wanders into the bathroom and dresses herself. The outfit is prettier and brighter than she feels within, it doesn’t suit her in the slightest. She lets her hair fall out of its top knot and over her shoulders. When she emerges from the bathroom Zuko is standing there in his own swimsuit. She lets him take the lead, it isn’t as though she has any particular stretch of the beach in mind. She isn’t sure that she has anything left in her mind at all. Anything save for a nagging itch that she has lost the most important thing that she had once had. She swallows, TyLee always did love the beach. She can practically see the girl bouncing over the sand and gesturing enthusiastically at all of the pretty shells and hibiscus flowers.

Just as vividly, she can hear her gushing about what a beautiful day it is. The sun casts twinkling shimmers over the waves, unhindered by clouds. The sky is an endless blue and several crabs scuttle over the sand below. Her breath catches in her throat.

“Do you want me to get us some ice cream?”

Azula scans the ground for a long stick. Upon finding it she etches into the sand, “you can get one for yourself.” She smoothes out the sand once more.

“Are you sure that you don’t want anything?”

She shakes her head. She is not hungry, especially not for something so overwhelmingly sweet.

“I really want you to enjoy this trip.” He tries.

But, Agni, it’s awfully hard to enjoy a vacation when all she can think about is how terribly she yearns for an era that is well behind her and a world where her potential had borne fruit. A world where she still has a voice and it is powerful and beautiful and confident. A world where she is so above it that whether or not TyLee still loves her doesn’t matter even slightly.

But in this world it means everything. In this world she is nothing. In this world she is unloved. In this world the distant volcano is calling her, begging her to come to its edge and jump into its core. It promises that it will sear her problems away and blacken her body and all of her bothers. Her pace slows until she comes to a standstill, eyes transfixed upon the volcano. Upon her new goal. The ocean has never helped her before, why would do so now? Anyways ocean water is too slow, too creeping, it would leave her with too much time to think and regret and dwell on her shame and all of the reasons that she had sought to fill her lungs with it in the first place. Fire has always been her salvation. Fire is mercy. For a moment the sun’s rays feel like the liberating heat of lava.

“Azula.” Zuko shuffles back to her.

She finds that she can only look at the ground, stare at her feet and wiggle her toes. She feels Zuko’s hand carefully link with hers. “Come on.” He says softly. “Let's go find somewhere to sit down.”

.oOo.

She can’t put it out of her mind. It appears in her dreams. It’s darkly scorched, rocky face looms over her, bathes her in shadow. And in a puff of smoke it speaks, “I can make it stop. I can make it all go away.”

It doesn’t specify what it can stop but it doesn’t need to. It spits a drop of lava onto her arm, she watches it trail down her arm, burning through it. It hurts so terribly but it serves its purpose; she isn’t thinking about TyLee anymore. She isn’t worried about dying alone, unloved, hated, and shamed. She is worried about the excruciating kisses that the volcano is laying on her body. Agni it hurts like mad as several infernos erupt from the charred craters forming on her skin.

The volcano talks again, “it’s going to be okay now.”

And as sparks fly and lava weeps from the holes in her arms, she knows that it is true. She can see bone in the wounds, but she doesn’t bleed. Monsters don’t bleed. She doesn’t bleed. She knows that she is dreaming when she speaks, “thank you.”

When she wakes she doesn’t shiver or shudder. She doesn’t even have the urge to scream, though she still feels sensations of a blaze along her arms. She sits up and pulls her robe on over her nightgown.

Her feet carry her outside before she can really think about what she is doing. She supposes that there is a perk to being so silent, Zuko doesn’t notice when she slips out. Her sight is set on the volcano and she finds herself absently walking in its direction. She knows that this is the right decision.

She tries to think of someone who might care for her, who might weep in her absence. Father no longer cares for her, she wonders if he ever had. Her mother never did. Certainly Uncle would be relieved to see her gone. Gone so that she can’t hurt Zuzu anymore. It is likely that Mai will revel in her absence. TyLee will cry but it will be shallow, an act, just like her bubbly smiles and her loving murmurs. She can’t imagine that Zuko will miss her all too much. She is making the right decision, she tells herself while she stands at the shoreline, breeze fluttering through her hair.

She wonders if she should write a note. She isn’t sure that she needs to, the why’s are rather clear. The how is of no concern, likely the how would be rather distressing.She should, for once, spare them the morbidity. Even still, she thinks that it would be appropriate, if not a polite formality to leave one parting message. She is better at writing out how she feels than she has ever been at speaking them.

Decidedly, it is better if she doesn’t. Aside from it being a waste of time, she has no right to ask for pity and compassion in death when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it in life. No, she…

“Hi!”

Azula jerks and the woman laughs before muttering an apology. Azula turns around and faces a rather tall woman with her hair fashioned into both a top knot and a low ponytail. A horrible styling choice, really.

“It's a nice night, isn’t it?”

It is, truly so. It is another clear skied, star glimmered night with a balmy breeze that is just perfect. It is a fine night indeed, all of the worst ones are. Azula shrugs.

The girl seems to tilt her head before giving a laugh.

Azula’s brows crease.

“I recognize you!” She declares.

Azula tilts her head and furrows her brows. It isn’t that she is surprised that she doesn’t recognize the woman; she has seen so many faces both real and imagined.

“You’re that weirdo from the party.”

Azula sighs. As far as she is concerned, she was just another face in the crowd. Another socially deprived disaster; she can’t imagine that they haven’t come across someone of her variety before or after...

“You put a drink on my head.”

Azula cringes. Of all the people she could encounter.

“You remember doing that, right?”

She certainly likes to pretend that she doesn’t. She only stares at the girl.

“You can answer me, you know?”

Azula shakes her head.

“What do you mean, no?”

Azula searches for another stick and etches a simple, “can’t talk.”

It is now the woman who tilts her head in confusion. Only for a moment before asking, “what happened?”

She scrawls, “long story.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Azula shakes her head.

She coughs, “right, uh, do you want to write about it?”

She shakes her head again.

“Can I sit down?”

Azula casts a longing glance at the volcano. She supposes that the woman can sit wherever she pleases, it doesn’t mean that she has to stick around. And even if she does, she can’t foresee the volcano going anywhere anytime soon. She gestures to the spot next to her.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #TyLee #TyZula #Zuko #Fanfiction

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snowflake-of-destruction · 3 years

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Imagine Roxas and Axel babysitting for Sora and Riku

Teamwork

"I like adding spontaneous, fun extra challenges to the day as much as the next guy, provided the next guy is you, but I have to say, I think Floor is Lava Tuesdays is a better idea than weird plastic puzzle locks on the cabinets."

Roxas glanced up from where he knelt on the floor, fixing covers and bars on the under the sink cabinets in the kitchen to see his husband framed in the doorway, looking the casual print ad model, chiseled lines under soft sweats, hands curled around a mug of steaming liquid that smelled almost as delicious as the holder (of course the mug was emblazoned with the word SLUT in bold letters which would probably have to be censored out of the ad), bun with just enough flyaways to seem careless but pulled to the perfect angle. "I'm baby proofing."

"As the baby, I resent that remark," Axel tutted before setting his coffee next to the sink and crouching down beside Roxas. "What brought this on? You have some news to tell me?"

Axel expected an eye roll from his husband, but Roxas set the angry looking plastic finger trap he was holding down and ran a hand through his hair nervously, a mild pink tinge crawling up his neck and Axel felt his smile freeze in the middle of forming. "Well, actually, I do have some news..."

"You're kidding." Axel felt his blood run cold and then super heated through his veins in quick succession as time slowed down.

Roxas's frown at the interruption morphed to a furrowed brow of confusion and then annoyance. "Axel, I told you already. Replica bodies don't work that way. I'm not going to 'go seahorse'"

"Xion can..."

"Xion is a special case. You are stuck with me with no alterations."

"Eh, I still have the much better end of the deal."

"Yeah, you do."

A shared smile and a quick kiss distracted Axel a moment longer from asking, "So what's the news?"

"I told Sora and Riku we'd babysit for them tonight." Roxas ripped the bandage off quickly. He braced for a less than enthusiastic response, though actually receiving one was still disappointing.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the acknowledgements. Every book I write is dedicated to 'my heart, my love, my Roxas.' I thought that was a given by now, and I just had to write what other dedications would come after it. It was the publisher's fault, and I should not be punished."

"I'm not punishing you," Roxas felt his face wilt as he picked back up the baby proofing supplies to finish what he had started. "I thought it would be fun. Riku and Sora really need a night out, and it gives us a chance to, you know, see what it's like."

It wasn't that Axel missed Roxas's hurt tone or his latter words and their meaning, even if they had been mumbled. It was more a combination of not wanting to be lured toward a slippery slope of manipulation or ready to revisit the conversation of whether he felt they should start seriously thinking about adding to their family soon rather than a general "some day" they'd always said before. Roxas had brought it up last week, and Axel appreciated that he had, but it hadn't exactly gone well when he'd been taken by surprise and his gut instinct response was less enthusiastic than Roxas had seemed to want. He was letting the idea soak in now, and it needed a little more time to marinate before he could give a response. If Roxas was going to push, it would probably need even more time. So it was better not to toe too closely to the sensitive, personal part of baby discussion and do what they both had the inclination to always go back to, deflection with a joke. "To let a Babynort into the house?"

"Ripan is not a Nort." Roxas hissed defense of his other's son since Sora and Ripan couldn't defend themselves.

"Then how come he has white hair? Answer me that," Axel challenged.

"He has silver hair. Like Riku. Riku's genes are the only inherited evil Ripan has and I don't think we should hold that against him. He's just a baby."

"No, no, babies are adorable balls for holding and cooing at and then handing back to their parents. Terrifying because their heads are squishy and they can't hold them up, but otherwise not dangerous at all. This thing is mobile. I've seen it." Axel lent the revelation the appropriate air of horror, though he neglected to mention he'd seen Ripan crawling up a wall, imitating either one of his fathers or the younger Incredible boy, which rendered his warning easily mistaken for his typical melodrama.

"That's why I'm baby proofing."

"Did you get the upstairs?"

"It's not going to be able to climb the stairs by itself...Is it?"

Axel thought it over since the stair thing seemed to alarm Roxas. "Probably more easily than it could get to the ceiling. I'm just going to feed it ice cream and hope that appeases it."

"I don't think it..he can have ice cream yet. Sora said he was going to write us a list of rules."

Axel's attitude toward the night ahead of them turned on a dime when the suggestion that someone else thought he was less than capable intruded to punch at his ego. "Rules like what? We know what to do."

"Damn straight." Roxas stood, dusted off his hands, and stole Axel's coffee off the counter.

"We'd be great with kids," Axel insisted, reaching out to take the coffee back, taking a sip, and returning it to Roxas.

"That's right," Roxas encouraged.

"We take care of Demyx!" Axel could honestly say that he'd fed, bathed, and rocked Demyx to sleep under different circumstances. Luckily, no diapers had ever been involved. "We're Turkey's dads!"

"And he's the most demanding little baby of all!" Roxas championed Axel's logic even while being reminded that he'd forgotten to feed Turkey before starting his project with the cabinets. He'd have to rectify that now. It was a miracle Turkey wasn't already dramatically expressing the utter betrayal of being left to starve.

"Next to me," Axel provided the punchline at his expense.

"Next to you." Roxas leaned up on tiptoe to steal a kiss and pressed the coffee cup with its last sips at the bottom into his husband's hands for him to finish off. "Now go put on something more suitable for tonight."

"What's more suitable than sweats for babysitting a baby? A tarp?" Axel drained the coffee.

"Put on something nice."

"Is Ripan conducting a formal interview before storytime?"

"No, but his dads might."

Roxas's instincts turned out to be right. Sora and Riku not only had a list of rules but a pop quiz on protocol and babysitting readiness that needed to be passed before they would leave, despite the fact that Roxas and Axel, already had the job, were doing it as a favor, were only taking Ripan for a few hours and not permanently adopting him and taking him into the heart of Deep Jungle, and Riku and Sora's normal babysitter was a fifteen year old girl (though Violet had warned them that she might have to cut back even more than she had. Ripan and her brother Jack Jack tended to be "a little challenging" in her words, when she had to watch both of them).

Ripan's part of the testing was to sit on the floor sucking on his giraffe pacifier and rolling an alphabet block between his hands, occasionally looking up with large, liquid blue eyes either to question why he was sitting on a strange floor or to ask why his dads were still there. Or maybe to ask why the other baby curled in the entertainment center next to the cable box was so ugly and meowed.

"I promise you. Ripan is going to have so much fun tonight he's never going to want to leave...but he's also going to be asleep by nine and I won't forget to rub the cream on his arms before I put on his sleepytime shirt," Roxas swore, crossing his heart over the I like coffee and maybe three people shirt he'd neglected to change out of despite telling Axel to look nice.

"Okay, I believe in you," Sora assured him before selling out his husband. "But Riku sincerely does not. So can you please promise me you will take extra good care of our little angel? I know he's kind of a handful, but-"

"Are you kidding?" Axel chuckled, unperturbed. "You're talking to the best babysitters in the business. There is no one more qualified for this job."

"You've literally never done this before," Riku groused, hands clenching in his pockets as he regressed to his old nervous tick.

"We are totally capable of taking care of your precious angel, okay? It's not like we don't have kids too." Roxas gestured to the entertainment center where Turkey sat, eyeing the miniature human. It had eyes like His Boy, so Turkey thought he might be able to trust it, but the threat of someone else Heat Giver and His Boy might want to snuggle that was not Turkey was hard to face.

"That's why I'm concerned," Riku concentrated on breathing evenly through his nose and not sounding too snappish. "That is not a child. That is a cat in a knit sweater."

"We'll be fine," Roxas insisted, ignoring Riku's slight, when defending Turkey's status as first child would make Sora and Riku miss their reservation. "We have your list and everything he needs. You two just enjoy yourselves!"

"See, it's fine, Riku." Sora nudged Riku toward the door. "Bye Ripan! Behave yourself for your uncles!"

Ripan gurgled solemnly, swearing to be nothing but the perfect child.

"Have fun guys! We'll be back around eleven!" Sora nudged Riku a bit harder, recognizing him for the immoveable object he was. "Riku stop glaring and walk."

Roxas opened the door for them, Axel waved to them as they retreated, Roxas closed the door. It was a total of maybe fifteen seconds they didn't have eyes on Ripan. The first fifteen seconds they were in charge of the vulnerable life of the baby that had been sitting near motionless and content in the living room for fifteen minutes. The baby that was still sitting content after those fifteen seconds and still near motionless, just with his pacifier out of his mouth and on the floor beside him and his mouth working as if he were chewing.

Axel and Roxas shared a glance and dove at the same time. Ripan shrieked, which should have proved his mouth was empty, but Axel used the opportunity to sweep a finger inside the child's mouth to make sure. Ripan employed natural defenses. Namely, biting down as hard as he could with his four impressive teeth.

Axel howled. Ripan laughed which allowed the red head to withdraw his injured hand. Roxas comforted Axel, for a moment, then warned him not to take his eyes off Ripan again because they might not get lucky again, and went to wash floor germs from the pacifier for the first, but, by no means, last time of the night. Minute one drew to a close with everyone still unscathed.

Minute fifteen gave birth to everyone's least favorite game, Turkey Chase and Smack, though Crawl Behind Couch gave it a difficult battle for the title.

At the end of the first hour, a nice balance had been found and everyone was getting along until Axel tried to heat up a bottle by summoning fire in his hand and subsequently scalded his wrist while testing results, as well as putting the idea of fire into Ripan's head. Sora had been right. Ripan was very smart and liked to try and mimic what the big people did. The living room couch suffered.

The next hurdles were The Incident of the Second Bottle Being Too Cold, The Great Despair of not Being Able to Have Both Bottle and Pacifier at the Same Time, Bottle Gone Too Quick, The Pukening, Second Washing of the Pacifier and Trial of Separation Anxiety, The Changing of the Onesies with Ripan Super Spleen Kicking Action, and The Pukening Part Two: Roxas's Shirt Looks Absorbent.

It was all minor stuff. Normal stuff. Expected, other than perhaps setting fire to the couch.

The real trouble didn't begin until the pacifier was lost.

#akuroku #snippets #soriku #future fic #fanfiction #the adventures of ripan the invincible possibly part one of more #sorry this was going to be longer but i was having a focus problem #Anonymous #this has been a shakeflake endeavor #🧂❄️

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writingfordreams · 5 years

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hi could you write an imagine about how Taron and the reader enjoy the weekend at the beach and they rent a cute lil beachfront house and the beach is private so there’s not a whole lot of people and they spend their entire time swimming, resting, making love, going out to shop and eat, and cuddling on the porch at night and listening to the waves. this is super detailed but I can’t stop thinking about it :(

i love all the detail in this, and i had a lot of fun writing it! i was happy to do this for you, and i hope it’s alright! thank you so much for the request ♡ more under the cut as per usual!

It wasn’t often that you and Taron had a weekend of complete nothingness. No events, no parties, no family to see, zero obligations. When Taron perked up at the idea of a beach weekend in the middle of a comfortable silence, it might’ve been the happiest moment of your entire existence thus far. Alright, that’s dramatic, but you were so, so happy. Sometimes you forget the wealth between you and your boyfriend, because when you arrived to the little beachfront house, a means to a beautiful view of the ocean and a couple of propped up umbrellas, you’re shocked. To say the least of it, anyway. Taron’s got a bag hung over his shoulder of a few necessitates that just couldn’t sit in the suitcases as you two walk inside, meeting the newly furnished living area and kitchen, and you plop down onto a love seat that actually feels like heaven. The whole place is drowned in this dewy blue hew, brought to you by aqua curtains. There’s shells just about every place a shell could be, and you look to Taron with every small discovery. He meets you half way with just as much joy. Each time you and Taron meet eyes it’s like this electrifying excitement that never quite goes away. This thrilling realization that, yes, this whole weekend was yours.

That Friday, you spend the rest of the morning unpacking. Putting clothes into drawers, figuring out how to work a kettle that Taron is convinced belongs on a space ship rather than the humble abode of your getaway paradise, and stepping outside just to smell the ocean air. Taron throws on a pair of shorts (That you told him prior to getting there that he should’ve put on to begin with), and he puts an arm around you as the waves come crawling in, crashing back into the body of the ocean like a beautiful reunion. When you two look at each other, the smiles are toothy and sincere. After a while and a power nap or two, the evening begins to roll in like the water touching the shoreline and you and Taron take a stroll along the dimming beach. There’s a small souvenir shop by the stairs of the dock that looked promising but was most definitely closed. Taron insists it’s not based on a small light turned on and runs ridiculously up the sand, peering into dark windows just to prove you right. You laugh adoringly at his efforts, and kiss his face when he comes back to you out of breath and sheepish. When you both had your fill of the ocean night life, you return to the beach house with lazy smiles and happy bellies fully of candy floss from a vendor that you just caught before closing. You set down your phone and before you can turn to face Taron he’s got two hands at your hips, and he’s smiling at you like he did at the setting sun just minutes before. When you two kiss it’s sticky sweet and lovely, and you both take your time unraveling each other. From the couch, to the bed, to each other.

Saturday morning brought on a trip to a small grocery store on the dock, and a full English breakfast carefully assembled by you and Taron. You both definitely wont discuss how you accidentally dropped an egg on the floor and laughed over it so long that you forgot to check on the sausage. With bellies full, you both head out to the dock for a bit of shopping. Taron sings along to the music buzzing along the chipping wood and shopping folks (You’re surprised by the lack of crowds, honestly) and you record a clip of him singing This Charming Man by The Smiths in his best impression for your Instagram story (Which you happily stamped with a sticker of a fish with sunglasses on). After a vicious day of draining your every penny, you return to your temporary home with new flip flops, a hat that Taron says makes you look like, and you quote, a sexy beach scarecrow, and two matching shirts for you and your boyfriend. Taron has his on already because of course he couldn’t wait, and you throw yours on once you step foot into the door. When the afternoon lulls on, you and Taron sit intertwined on the porch couch and watch seagulls fight over a discarded churro. Eventually you shift into a position where your head’s in Taron’s lap, and he’s toying with the strands of hair on your head while he talks about anything, everything. You can’t help bringing a hand up to squeeze at his chin while he talks, and it just feels right when he dips down to take your mouth in his own in a sweet kiss every few moments. Time escaping you both, the night rolls in in the sky leaving it a dull blue, and you nearly fall asleep to the sound of the waves - and almost don’t notice Taron leaving just to come back with two glasses of wine and a plate of pre-cut and prepared crackers and cheese you two had picked up that morning. Thank god. You talk, you laugh, you eat and even manage to have a heart to heart, sat there on the contentment of the porch.

Sunday comes with a certain lets makes the best of it attitude. You both take in your last morning of paradise, you wrapped up in Taron’s arms as he sways you both gently out of your sleepiness. First thing on the agenda was swimming, which, you’re shocked you hadn’t done any of just yet. The beach is no where near crowded, well with just a few people lingering about three miles off, and Taron’s got a hand at your back the whole walk into the water. Once you’re waist deep, shivering and chuckling, Taron goes completely under because he’s decidedly a maniac. Apparently a contagious son of a bitch too, because you take the leap and go under as well not long after his sudden bravery. You two smile so hard your cheeks hurt, splashing as the sun begins to poke from the clouds and warm up your skin which was littered with droplets of water and soon to be darker freckles and beauty moles. It feels like a film when you two kiss in the churning waves surrounding you, salty and happy. With one long, shared towel wrapped around the both of you, you walk further up the sand and decide together to lie and bathe in the sun for a while. Of course you take a few photos of Taron in his shirtless glory, and in return he shows you the photos he took of you last night, staring at the sun, then asleep on the porch. You show him that singing Instagram story, too.

Dinner is at a dimly lit seafood place up at the end of the dock, bustling with sounds of cutlery and dull chatter among the guests. You and Taron talk over a bowl of bread sticks and yes, ask for seconds when offered them. Dinner is as good as Taron looks in the orange hue of the place, and you clap and sing along to someone elderly man’s birthday brought on by happy waiters. Dessert is a lava cake shared by the both of you, and Taron takes it upon himself to get another good selfie in with spoons in your mouths. The walk out is within Taron’s arms, with yours around his waist (Could we look anymore like a couple? you’d said.) Once you get back to the house, it’s like a dam had broken and it’s all hands and teeth and heartbeats jumping from your chests. Taron says he loves you first chance he gets, and you can hear the waves go on outside from a window you had left open and forgot to close once you left for the day. You make love right there on the couch, kissing slowly and admiring each other at every chance. You tell Taron you love him when he’s got his mouth on your neck, and the vibration of his happy groan sends chills around your body.

The following morning is too quick for your liking. Besides the hour spend lazing on the couch you both had accidentally woken up on, smiling at each other and chatting about a dream you had which starred a man chasing you down the dock asking you if you’d like more bread sticks. Taron happily reenacts the horror of it once he stands, taking you with him and chasing you stupidly around the kitchen until you surrender, waving a napkin as a flag. Breakfast is jelly on toast because you both can’t be bothered until you head out one last time to the dock. Then it’s down to the beach, eating breakfast sandwiches and asking a nice couple to take a photo of you and Taron by the sand, holding up drinks you had picked up from a vendor bar along the shore. Smiling and holding each other as the sun peaked out from behind you. Taron takes a phone call while you look through the photos from that morning, smiling at one of Taron holding a bitten slice of toast up to his mouth, acting as a smile. When he returns to you, there’s melancholy in the smile he gives you. As the day comes to an end, you two stop at a few more stores to pick up a few things for Taron’s sisters and his mother. You buy a few magnets to give as gifts and a beach towel with the name of the location on it in fancy fonts. You and Taron laugh at how overpriced some items were and then discuss how important it is to support smaller tourist businesses and such. You both meet half way as usual. Packing up follows, both of you running around making sure not a single phone charger or hair tie was left behind. You selfishly take in the view from the porch for a little while longer while Taron sets up things in the car, and then you say your silent goodbyes, bringing a few bags to the van. The car ride home consists of This Charming Man by The Smiths and not much else.

#taron egerton x reader #taron egerton fic #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton fanfic

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stardust-and-blades · 4 years

Text

Winter Kiss

Yoooo klance drabble I finished on my insta :3

Summary: Lance, a fire fey, sneaks into winter fey territory out of curiosity to see if the gruesome legends are true. Little does he know he will meet a beautiful boy with a sharp tongue and a warm heart.

Pairings: Keith/Lance Fandom: Voltron

He was starlight against the fog of evening.

Lance is not one to venture beyond the summer court territories, one to bathe in the sun’s rays than to slip through the icy terrain separating warmth and cold.

They were at war. Fire fey had a sunset sea glass towering over the border between territory, a blistering beacon of defiance against their foes. A fragile looking wall containing the strength of the Gods, awaiting the other half to challenge it. To break it. To unleash a different form of war.

Little did the fire fey know was their very own approaching the wall, using their craft to exit as much as he can enter. Winter may not be able to approach, but summer can manipulate as they please.

As he crawled through the opening, as the heat pouring from his skin filled into a lukewarm feeling, he carefully settled his foot on snow. He nearly jumped ten feet in the air with how cold it was. What little winter they had (which was not much) was never this intense. Lance has not even felt snow before, which was one of the few reasons he crossed the barrier.

Allura used to tell him horror stories of the winter fey. Of their conquests and deceit. Their eerie gaze that can freeze you in place. The fangs protruding from their lips, ice daggers waiting to sink into the only warmth they desired: blood.

But there was one story that really stood out to Lance. One she did not speak often. But after a trial of a prisoner taking place years back when she was entering her late teens, her black and white tales molted into grey. She spoke of secret marriages. Of children born of winter and summer. Of a resistance group looking to join the territories rather than destroy one another. And while she had to shush herself upon sensing more than the ears she intended to whisper to, she made sure Lance listened carefully. Openly. To not be like the others.

Hence him passing the wall.

And maybe because he saw someone peering in from the outside, the only sign if it being fey was the dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes passing through the bushes.

Lance was going to find out who the fey was.

Maybe see if the tales about them are true.

Or if allura was right in the winter fey not being complete monsters.

So he set off. He followed tracks in the snow, the glistening white trees diamonds in the sun.

As he made his way to a clearing, he noted how the soft crunch of his shoes turned to shattered glass. Lance looked down to see the change, and noticed how he had set foot on a frozen lake.

And on top of the lake was a dancing boy.

The same boy with the dark hair, who hadn’t noticed Lance before Lance took another step on the fragile water.

He was beautiful. He glided on the surface with such ease, Lance questioned if he was a water nymph. His ears were long and pointed, decorated in fine crystals the shape of tears. He had stripped away his coat, the fur thrown to the side in order for him to freely skate with his black pants and white shirt. His skates, sharp as the newly forged blades by the fire blacksmiths. Except when they strike they did not exhume ash, but rather puffs of frost.

Summer and winter.

Fire and ice.

Ash and frost.

Hot and cold.

They were the opposites of the same coin. Destined to hate each other, proclaimed to be forever enemies.

If that was the case, then why did Lance feel no animosity? Why did he want to take a chance and introduce himself?

Why did he want to be dancing next to his sworn enemy?

Maybe it was because he was vulnerable in such state, completely unaware of Lance’s presence. Maybe it was because of Allura’s intriguing stories, sparking curiosity rather than resentment.

Maybe it was because he wanted to be part of the tale that defied all odds. Believed in peace rather than conflict.

But he is 100% sure it wasn’t because of the knife rapidly flying towards his head.

Lance screamed and ducked, the knife imbedding itself in tree bark.

He whirled around to the winter male. He stopped his dancing, his feet in a stance prepped for battle. He had two daggers in his palms, no doubt he held more somewhere on his body for easy access.

He narrowed his violet eyes, an arm arching back to chuck a dagger when Lance placed his hands in the air.

“WOAH WOAH WOAH, I’m not here to fight!”

“You have five seconds to explain why you were watching me before this knife meets its mark.” The boy said, ice gathering at the tips of the blade, elongating it’s already sinister edge.

“Um...”

“Five, four—“

“Hey give me a moment to gather my senses—“

“Three, two—“

“I was distracted by how pretty you were dancing oKAY?” Lance screamed.

The boy stopped counting.

“What?”

Lance threw his hands up. “I was curious. I crossed the barrier to check out this winter wonderland to see if it really was the scary, cold dungeon my side makes it out to be. I was thinking ‘hey lets take a look and maybe there are some softies or some cute animals’, not get a KNIFE to my HEAD”

He blinked, slowly lowering his arms. “You...wanted to see animals.”

“That’s what you took away from the response?”

He paused, looking over Lance. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

Lance sighed and lowered his arms halfway, his sun-kissed jacket flapped partially open as he kept his stance unguarded.

“You can search me. I have no weapons.”

“If I approach you so candidly you could stab me when I least expect it.”

“WOW, paranoid much?”

“I’m cautious.”

Lance snorted, his fear over the winter fey withering away. “Okay, Mr. paranoia. How should I prove myself to you?”

The boy pursed his lips, eyes traveling from the top of his head, down the front of his bright clothing, and back up again. Violets met azure, and if not for his keen hearing, Lance would have drowned from the beauty of the orbs that rivaled the dusk.

“Strip.”

Lance’s mind came to a screeching halt.

“What?”

The boy waved his blade towards him, nonchalant. “Take off the layers. It’s the only way I can be sure you don’t have an alternative motive.”

“I am NOT getting naked for you.”

He cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m not saying to get naked.”

“You just told me to strip.”

“Yes, but—“ he stopped, tossing what he said in his head until it dawned on him. Blush creeped on his pale cheeks.

“O-oh. I-I meant your top layers. Your jacket and anything that would hide what is apparent.”

“So not fully naked.”

The blush increased. “No.”

A cocky grin made it to Lance’s face. “You know if you want to see me in all my sunny glory you could just—“

The boy threw a warning knife, grazing Lance’s ear. Lance instantly shut up, having a deep feeling if he kept talking at least one of his arms would be pinned to the tree.

He unfurled his vest and coat. They were like lava against the white snow, bleeding to touch and burn everything in its wake. Crisp leaves amidst autumn; the blessing of the sun as it dips into the ether at the end of the day.

The clothes may be off, but Lance radiated the same essence the clothing did, his skin glistening despite the cold. If the boy was effected, he didn’t show it. He walked up to Lance cautiously, padding what’s left of his outfit (pants and a thin tunic). He made sure to avoid Lance’s gaze, poking and prodding but did not have an ounce of harshness in his touch. He was almost...gentle. As if Lance were a deer he was going to scare away if he wasn’t careful.

When he was deemed in the clear, the boy took a couple of steps back to allow Lance to put on his clothes.

“So since I did a strip tense,” lance joked. “I think you owe me your name in return.”

He hesitated, but after checking Lance, he doubted he could do any real harm besides embarrassing him.

“My name is Keith.”

“Wait,” Lance said, going still. “Keith. As in, the same Keith who is the knight of the winter palace?”

The legendary knight. The same one who had taken down dozens upon dozens of Lance’s kind, as well as his own when faced with betrayal. Rumors scoured the lands of Keith being so good at his job, the victim’s bodies couldn’t be found.

And yet here was Lance, literally looking him dead in the eye and somehow still breathing.

Lance expected him to do a 180 and kill him then and there, forever silencing the fire fey that managed to sneak across the barrier and find the knight of nightmares. He imagined a blade making a home in his vitals, his blood drenching the canvas beneath him in crimson rivers.

But rather than turn Lance into a decoration in the forest, Keith shuddered and inched away, as if Lance were the dangerous one.

“I...am Keith here. Just Keith. Nothing more.” He said, his voice a hush in the chill of the air. “Nothing less.”

“Just...keith.”

“Yes.”

“Then...you’re not going to gut me and dispose of me in one of these deep lakes.” Lance joked, trying to ease the tension. To slow his heartbeat into a natural hum, rather than the adrenaline spiking through his veins.

Regrettable choice of words. Keith cringed, indigo irises becoming shattered glass as he took in the meaning. Without speaking, he gathered his jacket and cloak and began to retreat. Lance’s heart withered. He didn’t know Keith well, but there was something about him shutting down from the mention of his misdeeds that tugged at Lance’s heartstrings.

That made him reach out, his fingers stretched to capture his shoulder. To cross the frozen lake, its glistening blanket cracking under his weight.

His foot went through the surface, cold nipping at his limbs as he plunged into the water.

All he could recall was his mouth and nose being flooded and his body tensing up from the sheer amount of cold.

The next moment, he saw a flash of light and a large, blurred figure grabbing him by the scruff of his collar.

He was yanked up, lovely oxygen making its way to his lungs and biting wind chomped on the apples of his cheeks to replace the slew of water. He was used to the sea of summer, not this bone chilled one leaving his lips blue and chapped.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked. He was knelt in front of Lance, a hand to his back and Lance coughed out the remainder of the lake.

“Yikes that’s cold,” lance commented. “My hair and wings are going to freeze over.”

His wings weren’t visible yet, but he could feel the ache settling on his back. If they were, they would most likely be turned to fragile crystals.

“Here, use this.” Keith said. He reached beside him and pulled out a white cloak, the fur lined the hood and the edges. It was plain, but in the light it shone with a thousand gems. Keith shook it out and wrapped it around Lance’s shoulders, the snow on it melting away as it touched his skin.

“Winter court clothes are imbued with their own magic to keep the wearers warm.” He tied the hood over lance, weaving a neat bow. When he looked at Lance again, their faces a mere few inches away from another, pink dusted his face. Even Keith seemed to have the same reaction, his hands stilling and his eyes unable to look away.

That was, until something wet licked his cheek.

“Kosmo!” Keith admonished. Lance turned to see a wolf beside him, twin melted coppers staring at the fire faery with his tongue lolled out. He was twice Lance’s size, yet posed no threat based on his white tail wagging.

“Sorry, he gets excited about newcomers.” Keith said, rubbing one of Kosmo’s ears. “He’s the one who pulled you out of the lake.”

Lance smiled, scratching Kosmo’s other ear. He leaned his head towards him, enjoying the attention. He licked Lance again, the boy laughing from the irony of an intimidating wolf being nothing but a pup.

“Too bad for you,” Lance joked. “I expected a knight in shining armor to save me, but looks like an adorable wolf beat you to it.”

“I can easily have him eat you.”

“Nah, he likes me more than you.”

“I’m his owner.”

“And I am the handsome stranger who is giving him belly scratches.” Lance stated, Kosmo officially on his back as Lance scratched his stomach. “I win.”

Keith shook his head, his lips quirked in amusement. “Whatever you say, Phoenix boy. I thought you could swim like all the others by the ocean.”

Lance puffed up his cheeks. “I CAN swim, thank you.”

“Not based on earlier.”

“Oh?” Lance raised an eyebrow, an idea popping in his head. “Is that a challenge I smell?”

Keith chuckled. “I don’t—“

He stopped, his ears twitching. Lance wondered what made him go quiet. He opened his mouth, but keith raised a hand, silencing him and put a finger to his lips. Kosmo stopped relaxing, the wolf rolling onto his paws and hunched over, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Keith kept his tone to a whisper. “I’m sorry, but you need to leave. Now.”

Lance frowned. “Why?”

“Because when you crossed the barrier you let out a silent alarm.”

Lance squawked. “And you didn’t bother to tell me until NOW? I could be dead in five minutes!”

“Not if we teleport.” Keith said, grabbing Kosmo by his scruff and hopping on top of the wolf. It didn’t bother him, and he went so far as to bend down to Lance’s level for him to join Keith.

Lance hesitated. He doesn’t know this keith well. He may be nice, but for all he knew he could be setting up a facade and internally planned to transport them to the palace. To execute him right there for trespassing, sticking his head on a pike to ward off any future fire fey from crossing the barrier.

But as Keith held a hand to him, as Kosmo nudged his hip for him to follow suit, and as those violets penetrated his wards, he succumbed to the winter faery’s song.

When he took Keith’s hand, he could not help but noticed the warmth he held in those palms. He assumed they would be unbreakable ice. But really they matched the inner workings of the cloak draped over his shoulders.

There was a flash of light, and the next moment they were in front of the pane of sunset, Lance’s home beaconing for him to return. To strip away the cloak and dive into the beach waters filled with seashells that challenged the stars in beauty. To the motherly ocean, where it can caress you in times of crisis or unleash its wrath to drown its victims for the harming of its children.

Lance’s questions were answered. It’s time for him to go home.

Lance jumped off of Kosmo and was about to cross to his territory when a thought hit him.

He turned back to Keith, the boy scanning the area for prying eyes.

Lance wasn’t able to talk to him much. Wasn’t able to truly get to know him. To find out why Keith acted off when Lance mentioned his knight status.

But they weren’t exactly close to know each other’s secrets. So he came up with an excuse.

“Um, I’m still dripping from my plunge earlier,” lance started. “Would you mind if I borrowed your cloak for a little longer?”

“Huh? Oh, no you can keep it.”

“But it’s yours.”

“And you’re shivering like a leaf. Keep it, I have others.” He shrugged.

Lance groaned. “I can’t keep this, the court may think I stole it from you. If I’m anything, a thief isn’t one of them.”

Keith shook his head. “It’s not stealing if I give it to you.”

“It is in my eyes. Besides, you owe me for almost stabbing me. So all I ask is you meet up with me tomorrow so I can return it.” A knowing grin split his mouth. “Unless you’re scared of the big bad summer territory.”

Keith’s eye twitched. He bored his gaze into Lance, Lance feeling the hole going through his skull with how intense he was. If he ended up as a frozen statue, he couldn’t say he didn’t expect it.

But instead Keith sighed, heaved himself off Kosmo, and stood in front of Lance.

Sure enough, the cloak was the only thing preventing him from shivering up a storm and getting sick. His hair was sticking up with ice, his clothes damp, and his arms hugging himself. Yes they weren’t far off from Lance’s home, but the thought of just taking the material and flinging him back into the wild left Keith unsettled.

“Fine, but there is only one safe way for you to re-enter without setting off the alarm.”

Lance cocked his head. “What is it?”

“This.”

Keith stepped closer to Lance, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled him down. His hands moved from his shoulders to the sides of Lance’s head, kissing him atop the brow between his bewildered eyes. A cool sensation coursed through his crown, a frosted star embezzle right where the kiss was before it thawed away.

“A kiss from the winter court is an invitation for you to enter the grounds. Think of me as you pass through, and I will be here.”

“Um...I—what just...what—“ Lance’s face burned, and he knew it wasn’t because of the cloak.

Keith smirked and with one last wave of his hand, he disappeared with Kosmo.

When Lance got home, he screamed in a pillow.

#shania writes #klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #VLD #voltron #fey au #fire fey lance #winter fey keith #yall thought keith would be fire but nOPE FOOL YA

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 13: The Shadows

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Awakening Ball turns upside-down when Ferals attack. Nadya goes into hiding with new friends... and ends up finding an old one along the way.

[READ IT ON AO3]

When the penthouse door opens in the other room Nadya’s still awake.

She looks at the clock — worries her bottom lip between her teeth as 02:59 changes to 03:00 right on cue. Arches her back to flip her hair over her shoulder and shake it out. Either this will go surprisingly spectacularly or it will be her largest failure to date.

Either way Nadya knows better than to expect anything to go according to plan. Especially something as important as this.

Nature sets the stage for her; flashes an arc of lightning across the sky that gives her a backlight against the large glass wall that serves as Kamilah’s bedroom window… right as Kamilah herself enters the doorway.

The vampire stares in statuesque silence; looks Nadya’s naked body up and down on the smooth canvas of her maroon duvet.

Twenty seconds pass — thunder rumbles in the distance.

“Have you anything to say to accompany your… spontaneous decision?” Kamilah finally asks.

Nadya bears down all her nerves and slides her hand over her midriff.

“I’m tired of waiting?”

It comes out less a declaration and more a question; makes Nadya curse herself mentally when Kamilah’s full lips quirk in amusement.

“Are you telling me, or asking?”

“Telling you.”

“Is that your final answer?”

There’s no hiding the way her flush starts at her cheeks and goes all the way down her body. How her toes curl at half-formed thoughts of what’s to come when she realizes she’s being toyed with.

So she tries again; “I’m tired of waiting, Kamilah.”

Every step the woman takes towards the bed is slow and purposeful agony. Nadya watches her nostrils flare and dares to imagine in the darkness of the room that Kamilah can taste her arousal on the tip of her wicked tongue.

“Such a daring little thing, aren’t you?” Her voice grows husky as she trails two fingertips along Nadya’s prone jaw; follows the movement with her eyes as they travel down her neck, tickle her collarbone, skirt around the curve of her breast. Nadya opens her mouth to respond but the finger over her lips has other plans.

“Speaking requires permission, now. Do you understand?”

Somehow Nadya’s body manages to break out in even more thrills. She nods once and earns a proper smile in reward.

“There will be no crude word choice to act as a symbol,” Kamilah purrs, “should you wish to stop, simply say ‘stop.’ Do you understand?”

Her second nod earns Nadya the press of a finger against her bottom lip; the nail catching on her front teeth as Kamilah slides it along her tongue. Nadya sucks on the digit with eager obedience. Marvels at the sudden black that envelops the eyes of the woman before her that mean only one thing: arousal.

They maintain eye contact like breaking it would kill them both. The room, hot and heavy against the summer night, echoes empty with nothing but the wet noises of Nadya’s desperation to please, to encourage.

She actually whines when Kamilah draws her hand back. Catches herself leaning forward and she has to stop herself, adjust her hips and the pooling lava in her belly. There should be an actual award for the restraint she shows by not moaning the temptress’ name.

Some stuff definitely happens in the interim but Nadya’s brain must have flicked off in between then and now. Her mind has certain priorities and at the moment the largest one is the way Kamilah’s naked body hovers over hers, holds her arms up above her head… the dichotomy between the cold body and its startlingly warm mouth.

“Hnnhgh…” It would be great if Kamilah would shove something in her mouth to erase the temptation of talking — but that would be too easy.

“Remember your place, Nadya.”

Kamilah lowers her attentions in breathless kisses scattered around her middle. Nips with blunted teeth and hot breath that tickles thin dark hairs she wanted to hide but now is glad for — just more of her for Kamilah to bask in.

She drinks from the well of Nadya’s skin like it’s the Nile — haha, punny — and she’s been lost in the desert. And just when she thinks her eyes have gotten used to the darkness, to the faint outline of Kamilah’s seduction, the storm outside blinds her in a flash.

And Kamilah definitely takes the opportunity to surprise her with a kiss somewhere new; somewhere exciting.

Nope, she can’t do it. Can’t stay still or quiet any longer — not when she’s finally getting the thing she wants most in the entire world. Not when she’s finally with the person she wants most in the entire world.

“Kamilah!” Nadya gasps — like a trigger pulled Kamilah is suddenly gone. It makes her whine and writhe upon the silken bed. Turns her grasp on the iron-wrought headboard into white knuckles and sweaty palms.

The world around them is dark — too dark. Nadya squints towards the window but the New York skyline has gone black as the void.

In the distance the clouds part to the light of the full moon. Too far to objectify, too far to bring her comfort. But somehow close enough to bathe Kamilah’s bedroom in an ethereal lunar glow.

Nadya barely stifles her gasp as Kamilah comes into view atop her. Straddling her frame on either side of the bed but easily avoiding touch. Thank god she’s still there.

She peels her hands from above her; reaches out to wreathe her fingers in honey-brown hair.

“There you are…”

The smile with which the vampire looks down at her is soft; affectionate. Doesn’t last long enough when it begins to melt like a glacier into a twisted snarl of ravenous fangs and a predator’s blood-red eyes.

“Here I am.” Croons whatever monster is left in Kamilah’s image; inhabiting her body like a shell.

The air grows cold around them; chills the sweat dripping down her prone body until she’s shaking on the verge of collapse.

Nadya tries to look around, tries to understand, but Kamilah’s hand grasps at her chin on the cusp of painful — holds her gaze upwards.

Something isn’t right. “Kamilah…?”

As Kamilah opens her mouth to speak another hand — pale, masculine, calloused and almost like stone — brushes Nadya’s hair from her forehead.

She tries to scream but the hand moves down to her throat. Makes her watch as a familiar face of impeccable beauty and devastating monstrosity looms down at her just over Kamilah’s shoulder.

“Is my Queen not the most divine?” asks the Man from the Painting. His smile is more than just a vampire’s — every single tooth a pointed fang.

She can’t scream. Not when she watches him—Gaius—kiss Kamilah’s temple above her. Not when his hand presses onto her trachea with ease. Not when both vampires descend in a blur of violence on either side of her neck.

Not when the moonlight grows in the room to illuminate the piles of corpses littered around the bedroom floor.

It’s the kind of nightmare that should send her jumping back to consciousness with a racing heart and those bleary moments trying to make some sort of connection with the physical world.

Maybe she does jump — her heart is definitely racing fast enough — but Nadya knows without a doubt she’s awake. Not only because it was impossible for that to have been anything but a dream, but because the world she wakes up to isn’t all that much better.

No one comes rushing to see if she’s all right. Not just because she doesn’t know anyone — because she does. Looks across the narrow aisle of the coach car where Greer cradles the larger form of his partner in his arms.

Tear tracks in their makeup run down their cheeks. There’s something powdery in Brandon’s hair. Ash — realizes Nadya too late, and her stomach heaves yet again to try and empty itself but there’s nothing left to throw up.

Compared to the rest of the passengers Nadya’s pretty darn okay. Unharmed — if shaken. Intact — if covered in the blood of others. Alive — if struggling to fully grasp that concept.

She’s alive. And that’s better than could be said for Megan.

A figure blocks her view of the boys and she looks up to see a younger girl, probably no more than sixteen, offering her a small bag of snack chips.

She carries the box tucked under her arm. A new sound joins the choir of weeping the train has been chugging along to; the rustle of plastic bags and processed junk being eaten not for enjoyment but for survival.

Nadya takes the bag — gestures silently across the way and the girl gives an understanding nod when she gives her Brandon and Greer’s shares. My condolences, says the misty shimmer of her young eyes. But she moves on to the row behind Nadya. Keeps going. Keeps doing good.

There must have been a group that raided the food cars because after her they just keep coming. Some offer sandwiches; frequently groups of two and three bring around water bottles and tiny paper cups of hot tea.

Near the front of the car Nadya looks to see a couple scouring over a trembling young man. Checking his arms, neck; any exposed skin. They coax him to turn and that’s when Nadya catches sight of his fangs.

“A-Am I clean?” stumbles the vampire when the couple finally pull away. They nod and open the passage door.

“Remember to take only what will get you to tomorrow.” One of them warns. The door closes behind the vampire loudly.

It’s all absolutely awful. The empty seats scream of casualties in a number Nadya doesn’t even want to comprehend right now.

But the sight of people — some vampires, some humans, all people — coming together to try and do what they can… it brings back just a little bit of light in the world.

Everyone exits the train like the beginning of a strange foreign film; both outside of time and within it. Those who wore modern costumes don’t have to worry about standing out but Nadya can’t exactly take the subway in a dress not only half the size of a row of seats but also torn, matted; stained with blood.

“You’ll fit right in,” says the Lily-voice in her head, but she doesn’t even want to risk it.

She wants to go home. Realizes with a strange numbness that she really has no home to go to. She can’t see Nicole being hospitable without Adrian at her back and while the thought of Gerard comforting her with a cup of hot chocolate makes her legs go to jelly it feels wrong. Wrong to just… go there without them.

Nadya has to lean against a nearby column to steady herself as all the terrible horrible what ifs try again to push against the door she’s slammed them behind. She clasps the Clan Sayeed charm between her clammy palms and actually prays.

“Nadya, pet, c’mon — we can’t stay here.”

She looks up and hastily wipes away her tears at the sight of Brandon and Greer approaching hand-in-hand. It feels wrong to cry in front of them. At least she can have hope those she cares about will return.

“Brandon — I —”

He shakes his head and Nadya falls silent. Reaches out with his free hand; she takes it in both of hers and tries not to think about the sight of Megan going grey underneath their touch.

“I know,” he says through a voice thick with pain, “and thank you. But this place is going to be barren soon.”

At a quick glance she sees he’s right; the train is already preparing to depart and the survivors leave in hasty groups. Some head towards the nearby parking complex while others step into cabs and hired cars that pull onto the nearby road in a trail of burning rubber.

“Where will you go?” she asks; contemplates the sobering thought of not being alone by offering them the apartment she isn’t even sure she has keys for any longer.

Brandon pulls his hand away and produces his phone from his breast pocket. Starts typing on the screen furiously. The backlight illuminates his face with an eerie blue glow; makes it easier to see the tears he’s trying desperately not to shed. His hands are shaking. Greer is there to steady them.

“Our flight back overseas isn’t for a few days,” Greer laments, “but while we were in town we were staying with some friends. Group of vampires living on the low — an old flame of… of hers.” He doesn’t say Megan’s name. It’s still too painful.

She wants to warn them of the dangers of staying in the city without Council approval — remembers then that there might not even be a Council anymore.

But it’s enough that they have a place to go. “Good. I’ll stay with you until they can pick you up.”

The couple exchange somber glances. Greer pulls her against him and kisses the top of her head.

“Not happenin’, pet. You’re coming with us.”

“No, no I have somewhere to go.”

“Do you, though?”

He probably doesn’t mean it to sound as harsh as it does but the words sting enough; make Nadya flinch against him. “They’ll come back. They have to.”

“And I hope they do,” Greer clarifies, “but until they do — or don’t — I don’t like the thought of you on your own.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“In a big dress.” Brandon comments quietly. It’s enough to make them all smile even if for a moment.

He pockets his phone. “Alright, she said her boss is on his way.”

“Ooh, good. I could use a bit of eye candy right now.”

There may not be as much heart in the way Greer says it but it eases the tension from everyone’s shoulders.

They wait together inside the midnight ride section of the station. It’s just a couple of plastic chairs and a closed coffee cart but it’s not standing outside and being questioned about what they’re wearing, who they are, or what happened to them.

Nadya’s finding it harder and harder to stay awake. Now that the tumultuous emotions and fear-fueled adrenaline of their escape has passed through her she feels hollow; like a being of exhaustion wearing her face for a mask.

Then she remembers the last look back. The sight of Kamilah wrenching a large executioner’s axe from the grasp of a suit of armor and vanishing into the fray — of Adrian holding two hulking Ferals back by the necks with their grotesque fangs just inches from his face.

And she isn’t tired anymore.

Brandon’s fallen asleep on her shoulder when their ride finally shows. A dirty beaten van with rust creeping up from the undercarriage and ‘NORTHMUN & CO. PLUMBING’ in peeling letters on the side.

It definitely isn’t the scariest thing Nadya’s seen tonight but it sets off all her ‘Single Girl Alone in New York’ alarms and makes her wish she’d just sucked it up and called Gerard.

With a nudge and a soft “c’mon,” she helps Brandon up and together the three leave the stillness of the platform’s purgatory to head out into the big, bad world.

The van’s back door slides open; Greer helps her up and into a crumby leather seat. She moves a tool box and pile of oil-smeared rags onto the cluttered floor to give the boys space.

Only then does Brandon give himself the luxury of a relived sigh. He reaches out and knocks on the small dingy window between them and the front of the van. It slides open and the hand that Brandon takes in his has a strong grip and a strangely familiar voice.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Brandon.”

Brandon doesn’t acknowledge it. “Thank you for picking us up. I know it’s risky for you to be out like this.”

“Well, you were willing to wait until everyone was gone so…”

Nadya’s still trying to place the voice when the van groans to life and begins its journey towards the city.

“I only got the cliff notes of what happened,” the driver continues, “and I know it’ll be a tough talk to have — but we need to know the level of danger we’re in.”

Whether she can place the voice or not aside — Nadya’s really not a fan of the tone.

“I understand.”

“The sooner the better.”

Brandon looks almost guiltily at Greer. “Well, I was hoping we could rest first…”

“You can rest after. This isn’t just about you.”

“All right, nope.” Nadya manages to stand without immediately falling over into a pile of pipes strapped down to the van floor, holds herself up on a metal hook and smacks her flat palm on the driver’s side wall just beside the window.

She succeeds in startling the driver — but has to hold on when they swerve and straighten out.

“What the hell is your problem,” the man barks, “are you trying to get us killed?!”

“You need to shut up. He just lost his sister, you jerk. So how about you show a little compassion, I don’t think it’ll kill you!”

The van slows to a halt — the traffic signal’s red glow streams into the back. There’s the sound of a seatbelt unbuckling and as Nadya falls back into her little seat the driver half-turns to scorn her.

“Just who the hell do you — think… you are…”

Nadya has to take a second for her eyes to adjust. It’s easier when the light turns green behind the shadow of his head but she’s definitely seen his face before.

Judging by their reactions they recognize each other at the same time.

Jax’s jaw is set in a scowl that twitches his upper lip. She has to push down her surprise and the sudden rush of thoughts but Nadya takes a little pride in how quickly she meets him foot-first with her chin held high.

“Nadya.” He finally exhales, like she asked him or something, though she’s a little surprised he remembers her name after all this time.

“Chill out,” Nadya insists, “and give him some time to breathe.” To grieve.

Whatever else he’s going to say is drowned out by the first car horn that screams behind them. Followed by another, and another. Jax makes his decision and turns around; slams his foot on the gas so hard they jerk and the free-range equipment goes sliding to the back of the van.

At the next red light he stays up front. Does the same at the one after. Whatever argument they’ll get into has apparently been tabled. At least they have the drive to collect their thoughts.

There’s a hand on her knee and Nadya looks over to see Brandon offering her a tired — if relieved — smile. She takes his hand and squeezes.

They’ve been in a tunnel going on ten minutes when Jax finally turns and parks. He hops out of the front seat and there’s a brief second where the part of her that’s started to expect the worst at any given time thinks he’s abandoned them.

Then the back doors click unlocked and all three partygoers look to where Jax stands stoic.

“Come on. Let’s get you guys cleaned up.”

Brandon and Greer must have arrived by the same way of transport because they don’t wait for Jax to lead them down one of the several tunnel entrances they’ve parked beside.

The Clanless vampire offers Nadya a hand to help her down; she doesn’t take it.

But before she can follow her friends there’s a heavy hand holding her back. There’s definitely a part of her that channels Kamilah when she rounds on him with anger.

“Let. me. go.”

Jax’s narrowed eyes roam her up and down until he spots what he’s looking for. Grabs her wrist and holds it up to let Kamilah’s charm catch the floodlights above them.

“Where are your masters?” he practically spits.

She acts without thinking — yanks her hand away and smacks him across the face. Judging by the way he doesn’t flinch and the sting in her palm it definitely hurt her more than him but the satisfaction is worth it.

“My friends are risking their lives for the sake of yours.” Nadya hisses. It makes him growl.

“Bullshit. The Clans don’t give a damn about us.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they’re out there fighting off a hundred Ferals; maybe more. Keeping them from getting to the city — from getting to the likes of you.”

Whatever retort Jax had lined up fades the moment he hears ‘Ferals.’ There’s just the tiniest chip in his bravado and Nadya glimpses justifiable horror before he manages to cover it up.

“A hund… but that’s not possible.”

“Yeah…” and remembering it all wilts her temporary confidence, “they thought that, too.”

When she tries again to head down the same pathway as the others Jax veers her off the course to a different tunnel.

“Where are we going?”

“They know the area. You don’t. This —” a sigh, “—this heads to the Plaza. And it’ll be easier for you to get your bearings so…”

It doesn’t make a whole lick of sense — not what he’s saying, she gets that — but all of this. Down wherever they are. It reminds her of those news clips of abandoned subway tunnels the city didn’t have the funds to refurbish.

Now that she thinks about it, that was a huge point of favor for Senator Vega’s re-election; his initiative to ‘clean up the city’ one tunnel at a time. Nadya, like most people, had let his strange wording go in one ear and out the other. But if that’s truly where they are…

“This is it—isn’t it,” Nadya asks, “this is where the Clanless are hiding out.”

“This is where we’re forced to cower. Where the Clans have forced us to barely live all because they refuse to acknowledge their system is a flawed one.”

Jax corrects her with an edge to his voice and she takes it for what it is — a silent demand to stop asking.

They round a corner and there’s a literal light at the end of the tunnel; dim and yellow in the way old lightbulbs were, accompanied by the smell of those seasonal walnut carts that stopped frequenting the streets in preparation for summer and ice cream.

The tunnel empties out into a bazaar — that’s the only word Nadya knows to compare it to. Not like those in movies filled with hagglers and their livestock trying to sell them under a strange alien sun but all cramped together; ramshackle stalls literally held in place by the skin of their teeth with rusty nails and old wooden planks rotting in some places.

To her left there’s a woman using exposed and collapsing pipes to hang blankets and clothes. Across the excuse for a path, a young duo with tattoos on every inch of skin show a yellowing booklet of designs to a middle-aged man sitting in an old barbershop chair.

The source of the sweet smell, Nadya sniffs to find, is exactly one of those celebratory carts at the end of a corner. The worker wipes sweat from her brow over the hot flames and churns walnuts in sugar and cinnamon in a beat-up wok.

All around her there is life. Life just as vibrant and busy as the streets above them.

“Watch your step.” Jax yanks her back as she goes forward — Nadya catches herself before she trips and falls into a railway gap.

She nods in thanks; still trying to take everything in. “Where are we?”

“An old spaghetti junction for the subway — abandoned after a construction collapse in the Eighties,” Jax points across the market to a crumbled section of the wall and ceiling; marked off with bright yellow police tape that’s been reapplied as many times as it has broken, “It’s served a good purpose. Everyone needs a place to congregate, to chat and meet new people. That’s how it started; just a place to talk. Talking helped some Turned relive their human memories and think of the things that made their life good. Distracted them from the tragedy.

“It kept them grounded; alive. Less chance of Turning Feral that way.”

The word makes her shudder but also see the place in a new light. None of the people around her — which was which, who was who, were they all vampires or were other humans here too? — had a Clan brand. They were all a risk.

Kamilah would be so mad; a thought that actually helps her breathe a little easier.

“I didn’t know there’d been, like, studies done on how that happens.”

“There haven’t. Come on.” Jax doesn’t wait or help her across the rail gap. Nadya struggles to keep up without her dress — and the state of her — getting in everyone’s way.

While they walk he continues; “Ferals are a taboo subject among most vampires. The thing everyone knows about but no one wants to mention. But if we ignore the problem how are we ever gonna find a solution?

“There are myths — pretty much the vampire equivalent of old wives’ tales — about things that can keep a newly Turned from going Feral in the crucial hours after.”

“Like what?”

“Well, blood from a loved one is said to help tether the soul to the body. It’s the first measure we take whenever possible.”

“And the success rate? Did you run trials? What about a control group and a testing group? What if —”

Jax rounds on her quickly. Startles an elderly man nearby but he doesn’t say anything, just huffs and mumbles under his breath. There isn’t even a trace of hunger in his eyes and Nadya comes to the quick conclusion that this guy is probably prone to lashing out.

“They’re people, not experiments! God, that’s the problem with you Clan types. So obsessed with your own wealth and status you don’t realize that a person is still a person even if they don’t have your precious little mark.”

And maybe she had been thinking about it like Adrian once described to her — that awful night she decided to ask about his previous assistant and learned of Adrian’s fight against the Feral problem through modern science over violence — but…

The fact that she can’t find an excuse that doesn’t sound like it was taken straight out of Adrian’s mouth doesn’t do much to affirm her convictions.

Jax takes her silence as a victory. Crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at her smugly.

“I figured you of all people — Clan pet or not — would care about the difference.”

Hands clenching into trembling fists at her sides; before Nadya can say anything Jax gives her his back to approach the woman with her clothes on the knot of pipes overhead.

She’s the kind of old that still looks beautiful; wears her age with grace and commands respect from it. Again Nadya is reminded of Kamilah and, again, her heart aches.

“Well if it isn’t old Mister Matsuo.” She teases; cups his cheek in a wrinkled palm and brushes a smudge of dirt away in a motherly fashion. “If you’re looking to win back your book you’ll have to wait — I can’t just pull away from a good day trading for your gambling problem.”

‘Gambling problem?’ Nadya mouths — has to hide her grin at the flustered way Jax one-arms the woman in a hug.

“Not this time, Evelyn. I was actually hoping for a favor.”

“Ha! Not likely. You owe me, remember?”

Jax huffs. “The favor isn’t mine.”

When they both look her way is when Nadya has her answer; Evelyn has a vampire’s unmistakable grace. She beckons an arthritic finger and gently takes Nadya’s hand.

“Welcome to the Shadow Den, dear,” Evelyn looks down at the blood stain on her abdomen, “I’m sure Jax here wouldn’t leave you hanging if you were hurt, so I’ll give my condolences to your dress.”

The Shadow Den. She keeps that in mind. “T-Thanks.”

“Think you have something her size?” asks Jax with his arms crossed over his chest.

Evelyn coaxes Nadya to turn this way and that; surveys the fabric with a clinical eye by grabbing her skirts and rifling through the folds.

She finally pulls back and tugs off several items from the overhead pipes, then hikes up her own long skirt and toes off a pair of well-loved construction boots. “These ought to do. But I’ll be taking the dress as payment — I think I could make Liv something pretty for her show out of what’s left.”

Before the vampire can grab her dress again Nadya steps back. “You can’t take this,” doesn’t realize she’s said it but she has — “it was a gift.” It might be all I have left. No — stop thinking like that. Oh god, but what if it’s true?

But Evelyn just watches her — watches her with an offering of clothes she doesn’t have to pay for and her own shoes. The woman’s toes wiggle in thick woolen socks on the cement.

So she wraps her arms around her middle and hugs the dress one last time. “Thank you for your kindness. Do you have a place I could, uh…”

“Come back here, dear. Would you like some help?”

“Yes, please.”

Evelyn leads her — helps her hold up all the poof of her dress through the stall’s narrow sides — to a small area walled off with dusty flannel blankets. Closes a dark ocean-themed shower curtain with bleach stains on the hem to give them both some privacy.

She almost asks Evelyn if she could keep the corset. Instead just slips one of the silk ribbons out of its place and wraps it around her charm bracelet tightly. The shirt is a little too big but she cuffs up the sleeves and the opportunity to breathe without whalebone confines is actually heaven.

Part of Nadya expected (hoped, definitely hoped) Jax would be gone when they emerged.

Jax is still there. And he’s not alone.

“Sanderson’s been working his ass off, man. But that doesn’t mean any of those kids are ready for an actual fight —” Maricruz gestures in frustration, her voice weary, “— they’re gonna get slaughtered.”

“You think I don’t know that? Just—have him get on his guys to bulk up weapons. See if anyone’s willing to raid some construction sites for supplies. But they have to look the part, Mari. We’re not having another Lula incident.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

Her eyes fall on Nadya. Hard-edged just like before, but weary.

Evelyn gently pushes her way passed Nadya with the dress in hand. Starts rifling around for something and smiles at her own genius when she procures fabric shears from a shoe box.

It’s taken her a second but everything sort of clicks, then. “You were Megan’s ex.” She recognizes the grief that flickers and dies — somehow feels a little angry that it isn’t harder; that it doesn’t last longer.

“Brandon, Greer — are they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re resting. Or they better be.” That’s not who she wants to ask about and Mari knows it; lets it hang between them ugly and stifling in the already uncomfortable underground air. “You holding up?”

“No, not really.” At least she’s honest.

“Do you —”

“I want to see her.” Nadya demands, doesn’t let her finish, doesn’t want anymore hospitality or kindness from anyone.

Because seeing Maricruz again after all these months lights a fire inside her that she didn’t even know was still there. She’s done crying, worrying, grieving. Everything has gone to absolute crap in the last twelve hours and if this is where she ends up then fine — so be it — but hell if she’s not going to be this close and not see her.

The longer Mari hesitates the angrier Nadya finds herself. “Now.”

Mari and Jax exchange a look. If he keeps setting his jaw like that he’s going to grind his teeth to dust. “I’ll go to Griff. Meet me back at mine when you can.” Then he’s gone without so much as a goodbye. Behind them Evelyn huffs a laugh, mutters something about youths in a hurry and keeps cutting Nadya’s dress.

“This way.” Mari gives as a reply to the expectant quirk of Nadya’s brow.

She follows side-by-side.

Nadya has only seen giant bank vaults with spinning-wheel locks the size of her dinner table in movies — until now. Thought that ripping them out of their moorings with bits of drywall and anchorings was something only for Hollywood’s penchant for drama — until now.

She’s also definitely never seen this much actual gold in her life — until now.

The middle of the vault floor has been cleared for habitation; bars of precious metals and stacks of what Nadya now recognizes as legal documents, financial records, and auto titles sort of teetering over dangerously. Her fingers itch with that familiar desire to organize and file.

Lily’s done the same thing to the vault as she does to every space she inhabits. There’s a purple picnic blanket underneath her and a discarded pile of snack wrappers waiting to join the big garbage bin in the sky behind her.

Her video games have been replaced by six, no, seven computers. Three laptops and a tablet and three monitors with cables snaking along the floor to towers haphazardly stacked in the vault corner. And don’t even get her started on the accessory keyboards.

Flattened boxes at her sides double as desk space and a crumb-catcher. Nadya spots a neon green water bottle with a crazy straw sticking out. Objectively she knows what it contains but it doesn’t really register.

Without so much as a glance her way Mari abandons Nadya at the entrance to the vault and crouches down behind Lily where her back is turned. There’s a squeal of laughter and Mari dips her head to Lily’s neck, followed by soft moans that make Nadya shift in her borrowed boots.

She watches them with unwelcome bitterness in her heart.

Then there’s whispering, and Mari holds Lily’s shoulders and it takes Nadya a second to realize she’s holding her down. Holding her back.

With her girlfriend’s help Lily slowly stands and turns.

Everything looks the same. She’s even wearing an outfit they bought together — right after Nadya’s first Raines Corp. paycheck, treating themselves to more than just window-shopping for the first time in months — that must have been taken from the apartment when Nadya abandoned it.

Everything looks the same but they meet each other like strangers. Lily’s eyes burn red and Nadya flinches back. There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

Until she sees the wounded look on Lily’s face; knows that she’s just hurt her best friend in the entire world even though she’s the reason Lily’s like this. — All the messages half-written that she couldn’t muster up the courage to send, never knowing if she would see them at all…

Nadya doesn’t know what to do so she does what she does best. She rambles.

“It’s not something we ever talked about, you know,” she hiccoughs out; feels her throat start to close up and that familiar burn of teary eyes, “like, what we should do if one of us gets hurt — really, really hurt. I know I made you my emergency contact but that was just in case because I didn’t want my mom to have to fly out here, you know? You didn’t have to do it back. But you did.”

Lily nods slowly, whispers; “But I did.”

“Who was I supposed to call, the hospital, your sister? They wouldn’t’ve known what to do. I just kept seeing you laying there and, Lil’, all that blood was…”

“I know you don’t like gore.” She says it like it’s supposed to be a laugh. Nadya isn’t laughing.

“It wasn’t gore! It was my best friend’s life all over the kitchen floor!” And Lily doesn’t know what to say to that; so Nadya keeps going.

“And I was selfish. I was selfish for not wanting to think about a world without you in it. I didn’t even think about what you would want, I was so focused on finding a way to make it all better.”

Through the haze of her unshed tears she watches Lily place her hand over Mari’s; sees her give the older vampire an imploring look and the barest of nods from her.

Then Lily’s across the vault room — her hands are heavy on Nadya’s shoulders but definitely not as heavy as the decision of letting her live or die had been. She thumbs the tears away from Nadya’s cheeks. Clearer, now, she can see Lily holding back her own downpour.

She’d better — together they might accidentally flood the vault.

“I’m not mad, Nadi’. I’ve had time to be mad… and thought about all the time I might have to be mad, too. And it’s just not worth it. You did way more than needed.”

“But I didn’t even think about if you would have wanted… this.”

“Yeah, you did,” Lily gives her a wry smile and a glimpse of fang, “and you knew I would make the single most badass vamp in the whole city, obviously.”

Nadya chokes on her laugh. They take one another’s hands; the cool touch strange but she’s had time to get used to it from others, now. That helps.

Her thought makes her laugh, makes Lily tilt her head curiously.

“Sure,” Nadya teases, “but what do I find? You’re still sitting around on your computer even as a vampire!”

Lily shrugs. “Well… you know what they say. Don’t mess with perfection.”

Their embrace is long enough that Nadya’s pretty sure her arms fall asleep around Lily’s neck. When the squeeze gets a little too tight all she has to do is hold her breath and her newborn vampire best friend backs off; learns the limits of her still-mortal body.

“I missed this.” They both sigh in unison; bring about more soft peals of laughter.

It’s enough. For now — it’s enough.

#bloodbound #kamilah x mc #jax matsuo #lily spencer #playchoices #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: maricruz espinoza #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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junjosekaimangalover · 5 years

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Lovers Between Worlds - Male! Blue Diamond X Reader Part 2 - * Not A Request *

Steven Universe X Reader (Oneshots) * Requests Are Open *

Steven Universe X Reader

Lovers Between Worlds - Male! Blue Diamond X Reader Part 2 - * Not A Request *

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Author's Note: I don't own the wonderful series Steven Universe ( wish I did though ) and I don't own any of the cool characters from the beloved franchise. I only own my writing skills and my imagination.

Another Author's Note: The reader is human for the record unless the title suggests other wise. Also, if the character is a Diamond or a giant fusion and that they're giant then I have just automatically made them to human size so that they can connect with the reader better.

Please enjoy this oneshot I made~!

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The Next Morning:

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Your POV:

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I woke up in my bed laying next to Blue Diamond breathing in and out so soundly. I didn't realize that I was staring until I caught myself getting closer to his face. I sighed in relief in realizing how happy I was.

I then noticed that we were both naked and I suddenly remembered the events that took place the night before. I blushed like crazy when remembering.

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" Stay still my love. " Blue panted.

" I'm trying to Blue but you're making it difficult with this position...! " I moaned out.

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I covered my face as embarrassment was suddenly writing itself all over it. I looked over towards Blue and saw he was still asleep.

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" I will give you a very special reward if you lay still so I can do this. " Blue leaned in towards my face and whispered so softly.

" What kind of reward? " I asked while wiping the hair/sweat from my forehead.

" Something like this... " Blue whispered my reward into my ear and nibbled on it a little. My heart raced so hard and fast that I felt like it might actually burst out of my chest and back to earth.

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" Oh gosh....that will be imprinted into my memory for the rest of my life. " I shake my head and got out of bed slowly as to not wake Blue up.

I walked over to the bathroom to take a bath. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed a lot of dark spots on like 65% of my body.

" Really Blue? Hickeys too? " I sighed and just tried to shake it off and got into the hot water and relaxed slowly while trying to feel the slow warmth from around me spread.

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" B-Blue...! " I crossed my arms around my face to cover my embarrassed self from being exposed to him.

" ( Y/N___ ) dear, why do you try to hide yourself from me? " Blue looked a little concerned and frowned.

" Cause it's my first time and I just didn't expect all of this to happen.....I feel somewhat um..... " I tried to explain but my feelings got in the way.

" You feel what? Bad? " Blue asked.

" No! Anything but bad, if anything I feel.....exposed and it's just going to take some time for me to get used to being exposed to you. That's all. " I explained while still holding my arms up.

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" Exposed huh.....that is something I was definitely feeling last night. However, pleasure was a big part of that as well. " My face was growing hotter by the second and it wasn't my embarrassment that was doing it alone. I grabbed the bottle of body soap and started to wash myself and tried to forget it for the time being or else I would melt into lava because bursting into flames has already passed.

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Blue's POV:

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I woke up with a smile on my face and the first thought that entered my mind was (Y/N___) and the events that we participated in last night. I never knew that I was missing out on so much of the lives of humans and how they would show each other love and how to do it.

" That was the most amazing experience of my entire life and that's saying something. " I say to myself while laughing slightly. I turned over to other side of (Y/N___)'s bed and I saw that she wasn't there. My eyes widened and I started to panic a little.

' Where is (Y/N___)??? ' I asked myself inside my head while my panic mode was starting to increase. I looked all over the room and I heard a small voice say something.

" Exposed huh.....that is something I was definitely feeling last night. However, pleasure was a big part of that as well. " I then heard a sigh after that and it was all coming from the bathroom.

' Oh, she must be taking a bath. Thank god. ' I sighed in relief and noticed that the door was slightly opened. I guess she didn't close it all the way like she wanted to.

I peeked in slightly and immediately blushed as I saw her completely naked and her rubbing her entire naked form with this shiny substance while forming bubbles at the same time. I don't know why I was going red because I've seen her naked before and I didn't blush then, so why should this time be any different?

I was breathing in and out slowly as I took in her gorgeous form even when it was covered in bubbles. I smelled something very sweet, her body wash smelled like ( Your favorite sweet scent ) and just seeing all this while not taking her to be mine was driving me mad. I knocked lightly on the bathroom door as to not scare her but suddenly coming in.

" ( Y/N__ )? Can I come in? " I asked politely.

" Sure, come in. " She replied sweetly.

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Your POV:

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" Sure, come in. " I replied.

Blue came into the bathroom and I saw that his face wasn't the usual blue color, it was blue mixed in with a red/pink color. I thought for a brief moment as to why he was off color. ( I'm sorry, I couldn't resist putting that reference in here. )

" Blue, are you feeling alright? " I asked.

" Oh y-yes of course it's just.....seeing you like this is sort of making me um..... " Blue turned away and went even deeper off color. I looked at his body up and down and noticed his body language was trying to tell me something.

Then it hit me!

" Ohhh....I see. Well maybe I can fix that. " I smiled.

" You can? " He asked.

" Sure, if you want to then maybe you should join me in here. I think there's enough room in here for the both of us. " I moved over and invited him into the tub.

" R-Really? " Blue suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.

" Yeah of course honey. " I chuckled over how shy he was being, before I knew it Blue's clothes were on the floor and he hugged me from behind while joining me in the bathtub. I blushed madly again because now I could actually feel ALL of him from behind me. I'm glad it's from behind because this time he can't see my face.

" Thank you darling for inviting me. You have no idea how much I was holding myself back from just seeing you like this. " Blue nibbled on my neck where he had already placed his mark on me.

" You're welcome, Blue I have a question? " I turned my head to try and face him.

" Yes my little star? "

" You said that Pink told you about um.....how to make love to the one you love and I get that for the most part but..... " I looked down and steam made my face even hotter than it already was.

" But what? Did I not perform it correctly? " He asked me and I couldn't help but laugh.

" Oh no you did, it's just that how on earth did you know how to do all that other stuff you did to me? " I finally asked aloud.

" Pink told me. " He replied with ease.

" But how does he know all this? " I asked another question.

( Author's Note: Pink has been gender reversed as well. )

" He has a human woman to teach him these things and he taught me these things so I can be closer to you and here we are. " Blue hugged me even tighter.

" O-Oh....well that makes sense now. " My mind started to wander again to the events of last night.

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" (Y/N___), I love you so much. Please don't hide your beautiful self from me. " Blue said while removing my arms from my face.

" I love you too Blue. " I whispered.

" Be mine and mine only while I do the same to you. " Blue's diamond eyes beckoned me to become one with him as he was doing to me.

" Okay! " I lifted myself up and kissed him passionately while sitting on his naked lap and wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

" Oh god.... " Blue moaned out from underneath our kiss.

I started to move up and down from his lap at a slow rhythm and then a somewhat faster pace.

" Oh (Y/N___)....! " Blue moaned again.

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I moaned out slightly from under my hot breath and suddenly realized that I was in the bathtub with blue and he just heard me moan.

" You feeling a little frisky sweetie? " Blue asked me with a big grin on his face.

" N-No, I was just remembering last night and I guess my imagination got the better of me. " I replied while washing my face.

" Oh yeah, last night was absolutely amazing. If you're not tired can we maybe.... "

" Ahh-!! " I felt Blue suddenly grope my chest and I completely lost control of my desire for him.

" These and a lot of places seem to be your favorite spot, aren't they? " Blue asked me while touching me even more.

" Blue...I Ahh...! " I tried to speak but his touching cut me off from doing so. I moved my body up and down onto his lap.

" You are such a good girl right now darling, with you being a moaning mess like that. " Blue's lap felt hotter and hotter the more I moved, I couldn't tell if it was him or the boiling water we were in.

" Blue, you are being such a tease right now....Mngh! " I tried to bite down another one of my moans.

" I know but for some reason you are loving it, aren't you? " He grinned even wider.

Blue turned me around and started to look at my body all over and I could tell instantly that he was fantasizing on what he wanted to do to me right then and there. Blue held my entire body with his arms and kissed me deeply while I felt my already wet hair falling deep in the hot water and feeling it sway back and forth. Blue's hair fell down at the sides of my body and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

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2 hour later:

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" Whew! Man it is so hot in here, I feel like I might pass out. " I said while wrapping a towel around myself.

" You're damn right it's hot but it's not the steam that's making it hot. " Blue winked at me and he wrapped a towel around his lower end. God, he is so hot.

I started to dry myself as I entered from out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I looked at my clock and noticed that it said 2:00 PM. A whole morning passed thanks to Blue, not that I mind.

" You can slow down on all that rubbing (Y/N___). " Blue chuckled.

" Pervert. " I replied.

" What's that? " Blue asked me.

" Someone who can't stop thinking about making love to someone. " I said while trying to find a change of clothes.

" Oh well then you're right to call me that then. " Blue smirked.

" Yeah I am. " I got dressed and started drying my hair.

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Nightfall:

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" Please darling, you know it's my favorite thing to do with you. " Blue pleaded.

" Oh but we've done it so many times, aren't you tired of doing it with me? " I asked.

" Never! It's one of your amazing qualities. " Blue stared at me with his diamond-like eyes and smiled widely.

" Alright, I'll do it as many times as you want if it makes you happy. " I smiled back.

" Oh thank you so much my little star. " Blue hugged me tightly and laid his head on my lap while we laid in my bed.

" You're welcome, so chapter 5 is where we left off. " I grabbed the book from my nightstand and started to read where one of the bookmarks were at.

" Yeah, so the lovers were feeling their emotions for each other and then they what? " Blue asked me eagerly.

" Ok, so the lovers were staring into each others eyes and their feelings for each other only grew with each passing moment and they decided to share their feelings and express it. " I read off the words from the book to Blue and he was listening to every word I spoke.

I kept reading and reading until I noticed that Blue had fallen asleep on my lap, I placed the book back onto the nightstand and turned the light out. I placed Blue onto the pillow next to me and wrapped the blankets around both of us and whispered in his ears.

" I will love you forever My Diamond. " I kissed his forehead.

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I hope you all like this, I've gotten a request to continue this and I made a part 2 to it so here it is. I'm onto to making part 3 of Rose Quartz.

Enjoy~!

P.S - DON’T STEAL MY WORK

#blue diamond #blue diamond x reader #steven universe x reader #steven universe #imagines #oneshots #lemon #romance #genderbend

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araminia16 · 5 years

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Slow Growth (C4)

Chapter 3

Keyleth felt too exhausted both mentally and physically to do much more than soak in the bath as she contemplated everything that had happened in the past few days.

The victory of Raishan’s demise, the way she had taken the one thing the dragon prided so much and ground it into dust. As brilliant and cunning as she constantly reminded everyone she was the green dragon had died an idiot. No smarter than the lowest of the animals she looked down upon. Keyleth still hadn’t believed it worked.

Percy’s still form flashed in her mind, the way his innards spilled out of his belly onto the floor and the blood soaked into his coat and armor. The horror of it still gripped her heart coldly. And Scanlan. How Vax held him close on their way back, the ritual...and their travel to Vasselheim to bury the ashes of Senokir’s wife in the Abundant Terrace to honor her. The moral dilemma she faced with the Spire of Conflux. Still a little guilty about that one.

Scanlan’s awakening and the way he tore into them as if they didn’t love him like family. The way he abandoned them. Were they such awful people?

Especially so after meeting Taryon Darrington. She didn’t even know how to begin to dissect that man though his calling Vex a little elf girl certainly didn’t help him at all but his initiation was a bit fun in the end so that had to count for something.

Keyleth let the water around her cool and didn’t bother to try to heat it up again so instead rose up and used a towel to dry and a robe around her body after she dressed.

As she walked down the hall toward her room a strange noise caught her attention and she, despite her better judgement, followed it.

“Percy!” Vex’s voice echoed from a mostly open doorway. Low light flickered in the dark hallway and she approached carefully even though a little voice in her head warned her otherwise.

She wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her. Not at all.

Vex was naked but faced away from Keyleth’s gaze with her long hair unbound in waves down her back, her rounded bottom held by strong pale hands on either side. The young druid’s cheeks warmed as her gaze locked on exactly what they were doing. Vex sat with her knees parted on either side of Percy’s shoulders with her...parts situated over what looked like Percy’s mouth. Her friend seemed not to mind it in the least bit either.

His chest and arms pale and gleamed with lean muscle in the low light and Keyleth stared agape at the thin sheet covering his lower half with a sizable rise near the middle.

“Gods. Percy. There. You’re doing so well. Good boy.” Vex moaned out as she rolled her hips and Keyleth spotted the way her knuckles flashed white while she dug fingers into the headboard with stuttered breaths.

Percy, muffled, moaned and shifted under her as his hands tightened and Vex gave another cry, higher pitched, faster….

Keyleth came back to herself and stumbled back from the doorway breathless and heart racing, pounding in her chest. She could hear them still as Vex cried out his name again in the longest keen yet.

Keyleth couldn’t breathe and she was sure her face would catch flame any moment now. Her lower belly felt strange. Warmer than it ever had before and as if there was a pulse there she wasn’t aware of until just now. Between her thighs where usually she felt a pleasant warmth now it throbbed and burned and she thought of Vax. Then of the noises she had never heard before from Vex and the...thing they did. She thought Scanlan might have mentioned something about eating before. Did people really put their mouths there? Vex seemed to enjoy it.

Another flash of mortification pulsed through her as she fled to her room but stopped before she entered. Her face still felt too hot and her skin tingled strangely. Vax would know something was wrong. She couldn’t bear the idea of telling him what she had seen between Percy and his sister. No. Not going to happen. Maybe she would take a walk. A cool walk to calm down. And erase the images in her mind. What she wouldn’t give for a Modify Memory spell from...oh now she was sad.

“Kiki? What are you doing out here?”

She hadn’t heard him. Of course she hadn’t and now she was sad and felt funny and she didn’t know what to do. “Oh. Vax. Hey. Um. I’m just standing here outside our room for no reason at all.”

“I can see that. Did you get lost then?”

“No. Umm. I didn’t.”

His gaze narrowed on her, “What’s happened?”

“N-nothing. Nothing’s happened. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just had a bath is all. Didn’t see anything or hear anything at all.” That wasn’t suspicious at all. He would totally see right through her. Her blush returned with a vengeance as her mind supplied visuals she could do without.

“Uh-huh. Well how about you come to bed then?”

“Sure. I can do that.” Keyleth nodded and let him bring her into the room.

Vax stared at her for a while longer. The redness to freckled cheeks, and the way she looked everywhere but at him made him want to go through the halls and find exactly what she hadn’t seen but he thought better of it. Instead he ushered her to sit on the bed while he fetched a comb and settled behind her to groom her shortened hair.

It was a sore spot of hers since it happened and he continued to look for bad ends to cut from her hair. The burns had healed up nearly without scarring much to their relief. At least he hadn’t been awake when she had fallen into the lava. He might have fainted from the sight and smell of her burning flesh.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Let me take care of you, Kiki.”

“You’re sure you like it this way? It was so pretty when you braided it from before.”

“I’ll cut my own hair so we can match if you’d like.”

Keyleth jerked the comb from his grasp as she whipped around with a look of horror, “No. You can’t.”

Vax chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose before he turned her back around and continued his work on her short hair. “Well then stop saying such ridiculous things or I will. I like you. Love you even and I don’t care how long your hair is. I can still play with it.”

Keyleth smiled as he ran his fingers through the trimmed waves and skittered his fingers down her back after he finished. Another image of pale hands, strong and steady, flashed through her and she shifted in her seat while she imagined Vax’s hands instead. They were different, his fingers longer than Percy’s. She wondered how they would feel on her in that way.

“Copper for your thoughts.”

The whispered words caressed her sensitive ears while she was pulled from her fantasy when she gasped with reddened cheeks but didn’t answer and instead wrung fingers together.

“Alright. What do you think of our newest temporary member?” She obviously didn’t feel like talking about it and so he decided not to push the matter yet but the curiosity burned still within.

“He’s not Scanlan.” She mumbled out.

“Definitely not Scanlan.”

“Do you think he’ll be back?” Keyleth twisted a little length of hair in front of her ear nervously.

“I think he will. He just needs time.” Vax set down the comb and pulled her back to his chest to sit on his lap. “So. Are we really going to finish this quest of yours? Finally?”

“Yeah.” She nodded with more confidence than she truly felt.

He wrapped his arms around her middle and rested his forehead on her back. “Good.” He grinned. “At least it won’t be a dragon. I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.”

“Me too.”

“You’ll do amazing at whatever trial they give you. You know that, right?”

“As long as I have you all with me, sure.”

“Even without us.” He kissed her back through the shirt and nuzzled his nose up to her neck and placed a chaste kiss just below her hairline. A shiver passed through her while goosebumps erupted on her back and arms. Vax only grinned and did it again. This time she breathed out a small laugh, then he did it again and again until she squealed with laughter and struggled to break his grasp but he held on just long enough to have her nearly out of breath. “Feel better?” He chuckled as she recovered on her side away from him.

“That was not nice.” But she did feel better and back to normal. The embarrassment at accidentally witnessed intimacy faded with his playful nature.

“I thought it was plenty nice. I could have done much worse than kiss you.”

Keyleth opened her mouth to answer before she blushed again and bit her lip. “I guess.” Is what she finally breathed out while he hopped up to use the adjacent washroom and lavatory sort of thing in the small room next to theirs. When he came back to bed she had the covers pulled up to her chin like always and he slid next to her. His body fit perfectly next to hers as the exhaustion caught up with the both of them to recover for the next days ahead.\

Chapter 5

#Keyleth #Vaxleth #Vax #Vax'ildan #Critical Role #Fanfiction #Rated M #Slow Growth #Perc'ahlia #Accidental Voyerism #Percy #Vex #Vax/Keyleth

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moeruhoshi · 5 years

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Heated kiss prompt

Natsu had a thing he liked to do. It was a kink, he learned, after an hour-long drunken ramble Cana went on and traumatized half the guild with. (Bacchus was sure into some weird stuff). But he uncovered some of his own feelings, confirmed when Lucy caught his attention.He’d been around fire his whole life obviously, heat was an extremely safe and comforting part of his life. The time on Tenrou Island when he gave Lucy his fire to finish off Hikaru Kain, he was mesmerized by the sight of her wrapped in his flames. They had grown closer after the seven-year time skip, Natsu’s dragon going haywire after the incident. Her touches, as simple as they were, would send speedy shivers down his spine, his mentality coaxing him to gain more. The dormant beast inside him had grown while they slept, purred when Lucy fought through the Grand Magic Games, roared to get her back from the knights, and snapped when he lost her future self. After the dragon incident, Fairy Tail took a month-long break to recuperate, and Natsu refused to let her go. Lucy understood, she was shaken up after the fight too, and let herself indulge in the thick arms of her partner. They stayed in a majority of the month, Happy taking the liberty to fly in their food before returning to Charle and Wendy. Natsu did nothing but hold her and spent their vacation in content.His obsession grew slowly, satisfied at first with keeping her warm and getting her addicted to his heat. Natsu would slowly increase his body temperature to get her used to him, pride beating strong in his heart as they slept. He knew there was a part of him that took control when he was alone with Lucy, but he was careful not to hurt her; she was precious.His fire swirled in his fingers as he watched her sleep and his eyes glazed over with a sweet heat, watching as it moved on its own, caressing Lucy’s cheek lovingly. She stirred and turned onto her back, mumbling and cozying to the source of heat. It was more often nowadays that she would sleep in thin and short nighties since he kept amping up the sweltering warmth between them. He selfishly stared down her bare décolletage, teeth aching to experience the flavor of her skin. The fire continued to spill, the stream loosely wrapping around her arms and down to her waist, hips, thighs, even her toes. They barely ever slept with a blanket, the blonde finding it unnecessary when Natsu was her personal furnace. He slowly closed his fist and watched the makeshift rope tighten before Lucy’s strained groan let his conscious mind return. The fire was quick to vanish before she woke up, Lucy’s bleary eyes blinking up at Natsu’s wide grin.“…it’s not morning, hmm?” Lucy stretched her arms above her head, circling them around her partner's neck and cozying up to his chest.“Not yet, Luce. Go back to sleep.” Natsu buried his nose in her hair and rubbed circles into her back to lull her to sleep.His want to give her his fire grew, one night pushing past the boundary of their friendship that they had protected for so long. Natsu swallowed thickly as he stepped into the hot spring with his partner, the two taking a soak after a day spent working in a restaurant as waiters.“Thank you for not eating any of the costumer's food,” Lucy laughed from her spot in the other side of the water, back turned to the pink haired slayer.“I know when you have to pay your rent, I wouldn’t screw that up.” He rolled his eyes, pouting when she wouldn’t wade to his side. “I know the girl's bath is closed but you don’t gotta stand all the way over there.”“I’m not going to let you see me naked,” She scoffed, sinking lower in the water to loosen her tight muscles. “But can you heat up the water, this feels a bit too cold.”Natsu’s chest rumbled with a happy purr as Lucy’s body shuddered at the increase in heat, ears singing at the sound of her satisfied moan.They laid together that night in the only hotel bed left in the building, the celestial mage not minding as she cuddled against Natsu, squealing and giggling as his arm trapped her against the soft mattress. Her eyes met his in a sweet embrace, Lucy suddenly aware of just how close his face was. His nose bumped against hers, a soft smile gracing his lips as his hand rested gently on the small of her back. They continued to look at each other as Natsu held the stare, the dragon slayer gradually building the heat between them again. She felt the protection he provided her in waves, forever grateful to have a partner that would fight till his last breath for her. It was in his eyes and the way he held her, tight yet delicately as if she would break if he made the wrong move. She panted delightfully as the heat she had come so used to increased, her skin barely sweating even at such a high temperature. He toyed lazily with her strewn about hair, smiling softly down at her as he brought a strand to his nose, breathing in a scent he had told her in a drunken sleep was beyond intoxicating. She was also painfully aware of how she and Natsu were dressed, finding it hard not to imagine what might happen in his boxers and ‘her’ old t-shirt that she took from Natsu’s house. She mewled as the heat rose goosebumps on her skin; it was weird but whenever she felt him warming her, there was the light sensation of faux flames licking her skin and wrapping around her for security. Her cheeks reddened as Natsu reached over her, pulling the chain of the lamp on the bedside table to turn it off. She appreciated an up-close view of her partner, flushing more as he pulled her against his chest similarly to every night they slept together. The kiss to her temple was always a bit jarring, she could feel just how hot his lips were.Natsu grinned at the awkward way Lucy held herself against him, excited to feel her squirm a bit against his side. Her eyes shut tightly as she tried to force herself to sleep, Natsu felt the strange beast take reign of their body, fire dripping from his fingers. He wanted to let her nurse on the tips, just to get a taste of his flames as the core of her body was adjusting to him. He wanted to hear her moan and beg for more, greedily feed them to her with his mouth. He groaned and held himself back, cowering over Lucy with a classic death-grip like hold.She choked as he overdid himself, apologizing profusely as she reflexively kicked him out of bed.“You alright, Natsu?” Lucy asked when he didn’t make the usual effort to climb back in. She peeked over the edge of her bed and watched her partner sit with his head in his hands.“Y-Yeah, sorry about that, Luce.” She motioned to help him up, though felt a slight worry grow when he wasn’t immediate to wrap his arms around her. Lucy bravely kissed his forehead and gave him a worried look, her hands gently caressing his features.“Get some rest, you can pick the next job when we get home,” She hummed as he snickered, nodding as he reveled in the feel of her velvety kiss. They grinned as their eyes met, another kiss to the tip of his nose and lateral to his cheek. She sighed as his heat held her again, Lucy mumbling her thanks as she continued to peck lightly against his jawline.There was a slight tiredness in her movements, but she was gripped with a sudden need to shower the dragon slayer in sweetened affection. She pressed herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she lazily assaulted his face. Natsu purred as her fingers lightly scratched at the base of his head, finding her ministrations absolutely irresistible. The familiar bubble of his flames in the pit of his stomach was quick to breach his lips, groaning when Lucy placed a soft kiss against their corner. His hand maneuvered to the back of her neck, coaxing her to rise and meet his own flushed face. The blonde mage shakily swept her tongue across her bottom lip as Natsu seemed to be enchanted by their pink puffiness. His thumb lightly grazed the borders, inwardly amazed by the simple softness he could already feel with the pads of his fingers. Natsu shifted them so that he loomed over her, happy when Lucy didn’t resist. She was nervous, he could smell it, calming her with a sensual wave of faux flames, enjoying the look in her eye as her body loosened.“Luce…” His voice was gravelly compared to its usual sound, the girl in question tensing as he did only but admire her moonlit features. She could imagine the words that might roll from his tongue, endless confessions of every part of her body that he found the most beautiful, gracing every nook and cranny with his lips until it was ingrained in her skin, the eyes he flashed in intense battle when he attempted to scare the enemy into submission. He stared so long she became embarrassed, even needy to allow him access to her body.“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” She asked in an unsure whisper, shivering as Natsu split his one of a kind grin.“Is it okay?” Her heart clenched, only Natsu would ask for permission when they were already in the assumed position.“Yeah,” She let her own smile split as he leaned down, their lips locking and getting a taste of the other. It was quick once they teetered over the line of friendship, the buried love in their hearts breaking through and taking control. They had held back for so long that Lucy already found herself submissed to Natsu’s provocativeness, smothered in his arms. She moaned against their delicate heat, finding it weirdly adorable when she felt steam grace the sides of her face, greedily stealing it into her mouth. Natsu’s tongue was eager to meld against her own, fire failing to stay settled any longer. It followed as she let him in, yelping slightly as the lava-like flow began down her throat. It was an addictive heat that spread in her stomach as they fervently swapped spit, Lucy disappointed as he pulled away.“What’s wrong?” She mumbled with swollen lips, hooded eyes meeting golden ones she had never seen.“My fire… did you like it?” He seemed desperate for an answer to allow him to feed her more, Lucy biting her bottom lip and nodding to allow him to continue.

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu and lucy #natsu x lucy #fairy tail nalu #fairy tail couples #nalu fan fiction #nalu fanfic #nalu fan fic #nalu fanficiton #lucy and natsu #lucy x natsu #fairy tail fan fic #fairy tail fan fiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #nalu fairy tail

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touchmycoat · 4 years

Text

kinktober: day 25

day 25: bathing pt. 2 & riding (but I haven’t gotten there yet ugh)

forgive me it’s pride weekend here and i’m running WILD

cont’d

Sabo lifted his foot. Turned, and allowed Ace to pull him into a ferocious kiss.

“Go soak,” Ace ordered, having barely pulled away from Sabo's mouth. The rough skin of his hands, framing Sabo's face, have remained fairly dry outside of contact with water, and for the first time in memory, Sabo consciously wondered if Ace was leaving streaks of dirt on his cheeks. Got harder at the thought, in this thrilling dance between clean and soiled, between the pristine heir on his knees and Ace, whatever Ace was, prince and rogue and vagabond all at once, marking his strength with stains of soot. “Your shoulders especially. We'll join you in a moment.”

“Yes,” slipped out, with far less irony than Sabo intended, “your highness.”

Ace sent him toward the bath with a playful tap on the ass. Sabo really hoped that left a mark.

Ace and Marco were a vision together. Sabo truly could not imagine a sight more enticing, two men more the perfect definition of desirable. The water lapped at Sabo's throat as he soaked, arms folded over the edge of the bathing pool. He pillowed his chin on his wrist and watched.

Suds were generously frothing up on the top of Ace's head, now that they were on the second wash. Marco seemed particularly keen on working his nails against Ace's scalp, the scratch of keratin loud enough to be heard over the muffle of the soap, over Ace's deep breaths of pleasure. Sabo could see now exactly what Marco had done for him—the articulated presses of thumbs against Ace's temple, swirling pressure along Ace's hairline, knuckles at the base of Ace's neck. Ace said something Sabo didn't decipher, and Marco moved his arms to more of a bracing position against Ace's neck and chin. A crack! of rounded edges realigning, and Ace groaned loudly, giddily.

“Rinse,” Marco told Ace, and was so covetous with the way his own body received the sluiced-off water from Ace's head. There was no shying away, no torso braced at awkward angles. He just let the runoff drench his shirt, the front of his trousers. Wet cloth clung to to the outline of his body, and somehow, Sabo thought Marco seemed way more vulnerable, way more naked than himself or Ace, despite their actual nudity. It was the openly craven line of Marco's body; it was his servility performed so plainly selfish, making it clear that every speck of dirt he could wash from Ace's body was his distinct and sought-after pleasure.

“This is oil, yoi,” Marco explained, rubbing viscous liquid from a different bottle onto just the ends of Ace's hair. Sabo could smell something artless and earthy. “With mineral extract harvested from a lava field.”

“It's nice,” Ace offered, tilting his head forward to let Marco twist the oiled strands further up on his skull.

“I'll wash your back now.” Marco glanced over at Sabo at first with a teasing glimmer in his eyes—but that look quickly melted into pure affection. Sabo didn't know what caused the change, but was so soaked down that he just happily accepted it as his due. “Tell me if the water is too cold.”

“Actually, yeah, I can stand hotter.”

The water basins were in the alcove right underneath Sabo's head. But he didn't move an inch to help, just smiled as Marco stood up and approached. Marco was smiling too, and Sabo let a hand fall over the edge, dangling over the basins.

“Pardon me, yoi,” Marco said, reaching for a basin. Sabo clicked his tongue, and waved his hand again pointedly.

“You are far too relaxed now,” Ace commented amusedly from his stool as Marco, getting the hint, picked up Sabo's hand to kiss the back. Marco too looked amused, though Sabo couldn't even bring himself to mind, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of his hand in Marco's. This might've been the way Marco held Ace's hand during the dance, he thought. This might be the way he'd hold both their hands during the dance tonight.

Marco got the basin, filled it, and reluctantly let Sabo's hand go. He made it back to Ace with a fresh tub of steaming water.

“Better,” Ace commented, petting the side of Marco's head approvingly. Marco didn't do anything as obvious as lean into the touch, but he still managed to visibly relax further—and maybe relax wasn't quite the right word either. Sink, was more accurate, pesky corporeal barriers like skin and muscles and bone simply domino-ing down, leaving behind a truer image of Marco at his essence.

He soaped across Ace's collarbones, pectorals; ducked under Ace's armpits and soaped across the great expanse of Ace's back, the broad shoulders down to the trim waist. No stutter in motion from a royal who's probably never had to bathe himself.

“Tell us,” Ace said, moving his this way and that to get the best pressure from Marco's washcloth, “what is it that you like about this?”

It was another ladles of steaming hot water, then Marco guiding Ace to stand, before Marco answered.

“You two risked everything you were working towards at that ball, yoi,” came so quietly they were almost lost underneath the hills of softly popping bubbles. “All for... my happiness? I don't—I'm honestly still trying to wrap my head around it. But I do know it's hard not to want to give you two everything in return.”

“I wasn't—” Ace's cheeks had rouged from embarrassment, a different shade of flush than from just the heat. “I'm talking about...!”“Oh,” Marco replied to Ace's exuberant gesturing at his posture. He had washed down to Ace's legs, and now stood kneeled fully in front of Ace's naked front. “I suppose I like the view?”

“You—”

#kinktober 2019 #marcoacesabo #istg i can't keep posting this same fic and calling it different kinks sorry #i owe myself some downright kink-centered filth after this

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foxeyesam · 5 years

Text

Sneaking through River Flood

Sam/Dean, beard shaving, 14x03 coda (spoilers) PG. hurt/comfort.

(I had to immediately after the episode... also, I recommend Nothings gonna Hurt You and Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex for this, i had them on repeat...)

Dean’s tired after all of it, the drive back, the bunker, the Chief thing, reuniting and introductions… the whole… wearing not-his clothes thing.

Sam gives him his space, moves around him to make sure everyone else has to go through him first. Protecting the bubble Dean needs right now, doing it with a quiet full calm. Dean makes quips where he usually seems to, but skirts edges and keeps his peripherals checked.

Sam asks, gets the response he expects. He understands. Not now, it’s too fresh, too soon… too confusing still.

Sam’s amused by Dean’s reaction to his beard at least, heartwarmed to have his jerk of a brother back, didn’t think about how he still had it, how that would be different for Dean. Irked and uncomfortable that there is so much of his Sam hidden halfway under it all.

Dean just wants Familiar right now. Sam understands, but he also finds it endearing the way Dean adamantly scoffs at it while everyone else seems charmed.

Sam considers shaving it almost immediately, but Sam also has enough little brother left in him to be captivated by seeing Dean to squirm about such strange things… especially ones that have to do with Sam.

In 9th grade, it was that one time Sam came home after making out with Ashley in her car for half an hour past his curfew. She had worn auburn lipstick that made their kisses sticky and thick, the taste pushing itself into his memory already as he crept back into the house with his heart escalated and kicking in his throat, snuck into their room giddy-quiet. He remembers expecting his big brother’s approval, suffering so many informative sex stories that encouraged him to follow example, but instead he got an agitated Dean, snapping and throwing a wet face cloth at him from the bathroom telling him to wipe off that damn lipstick, you look like a girl.

Or that summer of ’99, when Sam hit his growth spirt and grew up, up, up; tall and lean into the sky, able to look eye-to-eye with Dean and pinning him for the very first time in their combat practices. He felt his body hot and big over Dean’s, felt for the first time Dean genuinely struggle underneath him. Sam remembers it vividly: the hot Arizona sun, the smell of the dirt and the sharp mint of grass torn up by their scuffle, the echoes of a distant community baseball game carried over the dry air. The tickle of Dean’s hair against Sam’s cheek, the flex and pull of his muscles meeting Sam’s hold. The elbow Dean throw back in blind reptilian panic, clocking Sam right in the jaw. The speckle of blood he spat out on the dirt, how some of it landed on Dean’s face where he had twisted onto his back and was staring up at Sam in hot, wild-eyed shock… how they stayed like that a minute too long, Dean’s pink cheeks dirt-smeared and speckled with brother blood, Sam copper-mouthed right above him, blocking the sun, and tingling with the adrenaline of domination. Until the crack of a baseball against bat broke the locked moment, like a snap of fingers through hypnosis.

Now is different though, Sam thinks. Now Dean is agitated because it’s too different; a dent in the shield of familiarity he needs right now.

When Sam gets to his room, it’s not long after that Dean lets himself in, too. Weary, soft and a new colour of uncertainty clouding the edges of his meadow eyes. But still, Dean. Still moving easily over.

Sam doesn’t even say hi or ‘everything okay?’ because he knows it’s not, but he feels everything inside of him relax in contentment, in relief. Because there’s Dean, there’s his brother, his other half, alive and breathing and different but here. Back with him.

Dean comes over slowly, different in the face and the eyes, different in his smile, but still all Dean. He gives a little bit of a smirk, a quirk in the corner of his lips and eyebrow, and he raises his hand and shows off his razor in a pointed mission. “Sit, Paul Bunion.”

Sam huffs a laugh, a smile breaking easy and amused, and he lifts a hand to his beard, rubs at it in a way he’s been doing for the last few weeks, it’s soft scratch against the pads of his fingers a comforting grounding sensation. But now he’s got his anchor here, there’s no need for it anymore.

Sam sits down on the edge of the bathtub, and Dean’s shoulders square in approval. He methodically gathers up a bowl of water, a towel, the shaving cream, and sets them on the toilet seat before he stands in front of him and Sam easily moves his thighs apart to let Dean occupy the space between.

Sam watches as Dean’s jaw clenches subtly, watches the flickers of hologram hauntings behind his eyes, knows there’s so much inside of him he can’t quite exorcise just yet. Sam breathes in soft and slow, relaxes completely for Dean, reaches out tentatively to touch a hand softly against Dean’s thigh.

Dean’s eyes soften warmly, pooling, and they find Sam through the fog… they move over the crinkles forming at the corners of Sam’s eyes, over his eyebrows and the worry lines etched in above, down his cheek bones and to the warm bush of beard around his jaw. Dean’s eyes focus, zero in on the foreign difference and he lifts his hands, touches his fingers against the soft scratch and lets the corners of his mouth dip down in disapproval.

Sam can’t help but let a smile twitch under his offensive beard, and he rubs a thumb against the fabric of Dean’s pants.

The simple texture, real and rough, sends a bolt of relief shaking warm lava up his arm and into his bones.

Dean takes his time snipping at what his scissors can slit away and Sam sinks into the feeling of cold metal sliding sharp and thin against his cheek, his jaw, his throat…

the quick tugs with each snip, the tickle of stray hair falling on his neck, his collarbone.

The cool shivers of sensations fuzzing out his nerves.

Snip… snip… snip… the tug of hair, the release. Soft pinches. Weight lifting.

Then Dean places the scissors down, exhales a fuller breath, coming back to himself little by little with this simple task under his hands… his hands.

And Sam knows this is a big part of it: Reforming a relationship with his body through Sam.

Simple motor skills of snips of scissors and now the gel onto brush before he places a hand at the warm base of Sam’s throat and brushes the lathered lotion up his exposed neck… along his sharp jaw… over his scratching cheeks…

Sam watches the desperate single-task focus of Dean’s eyes… the ghost the ripples at the edges every few seconds, and feels his chest swell and ache cold. Understands loss of control, understands powerlessness in his own flesh, but knows the obsessive control Dean’s kept over himself, imagines that one self-trust snapping under his own call, that betrayal of consent he leaned his offering upon.

Dean allowed himself to sacrifice a temporary sense of control but ended up losing all of it. Completely. His body of flesh and blood now a house of transparent, penetrable glass.

Sam feels it in Dean’s gentle fingertips… the soft cradling of his throat…. the whispering cold slide of sharp razor edge against his warm skin, the tug and tickle along each line of gliding stroke.

Fragile, vulnerable, pliable. So Sam is for him, with him.

With his jaw tilted upward, he gazes up at his big brother. He blinks slow and feels young in the eyes, feels old and warm in the chest. Remembers watching Dean do this himself for the first time. Wants to lean forward and hold Dean up against him, pull his abdomen into his chest, act as a second ribcage for all Dean’s softest parts.

The razor slides with a rasp, tinks against the water bowl, comes back cold and wet, sends tingles and sparks along Sam’s jaw, into the back of Sam’s teeth, down low along Sam’s spine…

Sam closes his eyes, bathes himself in the feeling of Dean shaving him back to himself, the air washing cool and clean against his skin. He feels baptised by steel and water, a conduit for renewal.

The razor slides, and Sam sighs, lets Dean tilts his head to the slightest inch by the slightest touch. Rasp, tink, swish. Scrap, clean, wet. A hypnotic spell buzzes over Sam’s brain, tingles the surface of his skin and he sinks low into the feeling, into his brother’s care, welcomes it all.

Then it’s not the cold edge returning to his skin… it’s wet fingers, trailing over his cheeks, his jaw, his adams apple that bobs in a swallow under the touch. Smearing leftover shaving cream, drips of water.

His eyes are too heavy to open, so the fingers explore more… along his chin, the dip between his lips and nose, the dent of his dimples and the rise of his cheekbones.

He feels the fingers slide up to his ears and, slowly, push soft paths into the forest of his hair. Trailing deep and thick back to his neck, and thumbs slide to cup the crevice of his underjaw.

A shiver runs through Sam and his hand on Dean’s thigh tightens a little, hugs Dean closer just with pressure against his solid leg. And Dean comes. Sam feels him rest his forehead down, gently, against his. Feels his breath wash warm over his nose and cheeks. Feels the hands in his hair tremble, the rhythm of his breath stutter in the slightest.

Sam opens his eyes, feels the tickle of a tear drop onto his high cheek from Dean’s eyes clenched shut.

Sam feels his chest tare open hot with desperation and protection, feels his eyes sting in response.

He moves his hands to Dean’s waist and rubs his thumbs slow against his hipbones.

Dean breathes in a stuttered breath and his hands tighten in his hair and Sam welcomes it quietly, closing eyes again… feels the salt tears speckle his cheeks, thinks of his blood speckling Dean’s under that hot sun. And sighs.

#wincest #weecest #my stuff #my writing #spn spoilers #14x03 coda #shaving!kink #beard shaving #the grief beard #sams beard #hurtcomfort #samdean #brief mention of #feminized!sam

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gutterdreams · 6 years

Text

Unhook PT 1 [Billy Hargrove]

Disclaimer: I do not own the gifs or Stranger Things.

Warning: Lite smut, cursing.

Word count: 2.5 k

As always, I hope you like it and let me know what you think! Please let me know if you want to be tagged for part 2. I’m new to this tagging business.

Part Two

Hot water slid down your body along with his hands, his body warm behind you as you leaned back with eyes closed. Your own hands slid from the side of your head and down to your neck. Breathing in deeply through your nose and then exhaling low from your mouth, you started to come down from the carnal and indecent activities you and Billy had spent your Sunday morning fulfilling. It was rare that it was only the two of you like this, but you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It worked like a blessing that your mom worked shift work at the Hawkins Senior Facility. Billy was able to sneak away from the unsteady environment that he had to call home and sleep over without any one having to make up any lies or your mother freaking out that he was staying over. She liked him just fine, of course, often mentioning that it was nice to have a guy around the house to fix things that she couldn’t, but there were still rules and the cardinal one was that your boyfriend wasn’t allowed to sleep in your bed under any circumstance. With her working for the weekend, you two took advantage of the empty place and pretended to play house.

“Are you getting hard?” Somewhat amused, but mostly surprised, you asked as you felt his penis harden against the small of your back.

“Maybe.” He teased back, his hands pausing on their tour around your breasts and moving to grip your hips and pull you closer against his body. He wasn’t quite erect, but at the touch of your still turned on nipples and the sight of your wet body, Billy couldn’t control his hormones.

“We had sex, like, seven minutes ago.” You laughed and reached behind you, his hair wet against his back as you massaged at it.

“So?” Billy really didn’t see any problem. “I’ve got this hot body all to myself. Can you blame me for getting turned on again…and again…and again?” He asked as he kept nipping at your neck, stopping only to flutter his eyes open and watch water droplets run down your breasts as the touch of his lips to your skin caused goosebumps to take over.

“I think I need a little break.” Leaning into him, you moaned back. “You’re going to break me like last week.” Your vagina had been sore with every step you took and you were beginning to worry that you would have to ask your mother about it right before the tenderness began to ease.

Like a little kid unhappy about not getting their way, he groaned into your neck and sucked at it with quick, sharp force before standing back up. You slid away and leaned down for the shampoo bottle, both his hands grabbing at the cheeks of your bum like a reflex as soon as you did. You rolled your eyes at him with a sly smirk and squirted a quarter size of shampoo into your palm.

Once you reached up, he dipped his head and his wildly amused eyes to let you work the product into his hair. His locks were beloved to him and it had only been recently, after four months together, that he let you play with it. Before, when you tried to yank on it during sex, or run your fingers through it while watching a movie on the couch, he would almost scold you, but now he had come around. It turned out that Billy liked having his hair pulled by you, but only when you were bouncing on top of him with your body illuminated by the blue glow of your lava lamp.

“I’m done.” After your own hair was washed as well as Billy finishing running a bar of soap all over the sides of your body, you told him and kissed his lips gently. In the hallways at school, out in the parking lot, and at every party, Billy made a meal out of every time you two kissed. He would suck in your mouth and devour you in front of anyone who saw, happy to let them know that you were his, but when you were alone, he had nothing to prove.

“Yeah, me too.” He agreed and reached behind you to shut off the tap as you parted the white vinyl shower curtains and stepped off onto the fuzzy navy blue bath mat.

Billy watched as you toweled off with eagle eyes adoring the body that he felt some kind of ownership of. Neither of you had so much as murmured the L word to one another, but it was evident in the way he watched you. The California boy was absolutely enamored. He felt lucky that you had somehow managed to be assigned as his partner for a month long English assignment. He didn’t know if he would otherwise notice you and now he couldn’t imagine not having you as his personal refuge. He pouted childishly as you covered the body he loved so much up in a brown towel, but you ignored it as you would any other cartoony face he made and headed out of the bathroom to finish getting ready down the hall in your bedroom.

Once he was dry, Billy left his towel over the bathroom sink and gave himself a thorough look over through the mirror. He left the bathroom with the fan on and sang one of his favorite Judas Priest songs under his breath as he moved into your kitchen, helping himself to an apple from the bowl in the center of your small wooden table. Before Billy and you became serious, it had only ever been you and your mother having dinner together. There was no need for a long dining room table.

Almost dancing, he made his way around the table and mindlessly moved toward the fridge. He also found humor in looking at your kindergarten school picture underneath the magnet shaped like the state of Indiana. Billy usually just teased you about the frou-frou pink sweater you had been dressed in and your missing bottom teeth, but secretly he loved it. He saw the picture and had recently started to wonder if that’s what your kid would look like if you two had a daughter. Billy thought he was pretty good looking, but he hoped some imaginary little person would have your eyes as well as your compassion. Billy shot first and sometimes completely skipped asking questions, but you always found a way to be empathetic. It had been annoying at first, but it had grown into his favorite thing about you after your perky tits.

He took a loud second bite out of the apple and looked around at the other things on the fridge. Water bill addressed to your mom, a birthday card that needed to be sent out by mail to your Uncle Larry in Carmel, your mom’s schedule for the month, a handful of magnets, a Post-It note with your next three shifts at Pizza Hut, and a college application. The latter item caught all of Billy’s attention. He ripped it right out from under the magnet that was holding it to the fridge and opened it up with the same hand he was holding the apple in. His eyes narrowed in as he furiously read it over. It was an application with your information on it. It was for UChicago. Billy felt like an idiot that he hadn’t realized you were already applying for University. You two had barely talked about it because he always blew off the subject and talked about getting out of Hawkins and back home as soon as he was eighteen.

He heard your bedroom door close and then your feet rushing down the hall, so he put the application back and continued to eat the apple naked in the middle of your kitchen

“We got to get going.” You reminded him, laughing lightly as soon as you noticed his attire. “I told your sister - “

“Step-sister.” His tone thick and sharp as he corrected you with his attention to the sink away from you, Billy interrupted.

“I told Max,” You started again. “We would pick her up from the arcade and take her home.” If it was up to you, Billy would never have to go back to his house, but unfortunately, it was beyond your control. He absolutely forbade you to call the police or even talk to your mom about his dad’s behavior. So, you just tried to give him a safe haven at your house when you could and then make your life easier at home in small ways. It had been easy for you to scheme up ways for Max to have freedom as well as make it so that Billy kept his dad and step mom happy. This Sunday, with his folks at church, you had time to yourselves, and then you had told Max to go to the arcade and you and Billy would pick her up by one. With you around, you knew Mr. Hargrove would be less likely to lay into his son physically. He had asked you to leave before and you cried the entire walk home, knowing what commenced the second you were out the door. “We can watch a movie in your basement or something.” If Billy had to be home to “watch” Max, you were going to be there too.

“Yeah, whatever.” Billy tossed the apple core into the garbage by the kitchen counter and walked by you without so much as a glance. It was a complete one eighty from the touchy-feely boy that you had left in the washroom. While part of you wondered what was going on, there was another part of you that knew how fickle Billy could be. He was hot one second and running cold the next. You never tried to change him, you just waited out his storms and held your arms open for him.

* * ** * *

In his blue Camaro, the real love of his life, you and Billy never did much talking. It wasn’t uncommon for Max to be there and if she wasn’t, he was either driving to a secluded place to park so you two could have sex or you two were already having sex, windows fogging up and the radio loud. So as the radio blared Ratt and Billy glared forward, you didn’t question the silence. The only time you two had really had a long conversation in the car was when you started to cry on the drive to school, Billy behind the wheel with a swollen eye. He took the fifteen minutes you both had before the first bell to listen to you ramble on and on about how scared you were for him and then assured you it was no big deal, nothing he couldn’t handle, just a row with the old man. The memory caused you to sigh loudly, almost over the music, and Billy adjusted in his seat to finally pay attention to you.

“What’s wrong?” You couldn’t tell by the sound of his voice if he actually cared or not.

“Nothing. I don’t know…” You leaned your head against the window on your side and sighed again, softer this time. Whenever you couldn’t read him, you felt uncomfortable and your mind took control and reminded you of painful things. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“I always get a little anxious when we’re going to your place.” It wasn’t a secret between you two that being around his Dad upset you. The whole time, even when they had you over for dinner, you felt like you were on pins and needles. Neil Hargrove had a lot of opinions on the world and the people in it that you didn’t agree with, but in order to keep the peace, you never challenged him. You worried about what would happen to Billy if you ever dared to.

“As soon as you’re out in Chicago, you won’t have to come anymore.” The words tripped off of Billy’s tongue as easily as the lyrics to metal songs did, but he sounded smug.

Turning to look at him with raised brows and a perplexed stare, you sat up straight and asked yourself a dozen questions before addressing him again.

“When am I going to Chicago?” You hadn’t the slightest clue what he was getting at.

“September, I guess. I don’t know. That’s up to you.” His answer made even less sense to you. “You didn’t even fucking tell me you were applying to school, so I doubt you’ll tell me when you go.” He was angry. He was letting it out now as he shouted over the music and started to drive faster. They were telltale signs for him, ones that always scared you, ones he knew scared you.

“You really think I wouldn’t find out?” Billy raged and pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal. “What? I was gonna wake up one day and you’d just be gone? Is that it?” He looked right at you, no mind paid to the road in front of him. His eyes were dilated to the size of teacup saucers and held his fury on prominent display. “Huh? [Y/N]?! Is it?” This was the first time he had really ripped into you. There had been arguments, disagreements that left his cussing and throwing things around whatever room you were in, but he always held himself back. Billy had always asked you to leave before he laid his fists into some poor guys face. This was a first and it had you frozen. You had one hand gripping the dashboard ahead of you as you watched the dial behind his wheel rise and rise. He was angry and taking it out on the engine of the car. “Billy, slow down!” You didn’t make any attempt to hide your desperation, pleading with your eyes frightened as they slid back and forth between the windshield and Billy. He didn’t listen though. He did the opposite and sped up. “Billy, please! We can talk. I want to talk.” Hell, you were always trying to have more in depth conversations with Billy, but he was always just interested in touching, squeezing, and making the night better than his day was. You slapped your hand down on the windshield as hard as you could, burning your palm, but urging him to stop as you screamed again, “Billy!“ He slammed on the breaks and cackled as his body flung forward, his forehead and busy hair almost meeting the windshield with brute force. If you hadn’t had your seat belt on, you would have flown through the windshield. Your heart was racing as you panted loudly, staring at the floor of the car between your shoes. “Get out of the car.” Voice steady as if he hadn’t been driving like a maniac all of two second ago, he spoke at you while he adjusted himself in his seat. He looked in the rear view mirror to check his hair, instantly fixing it. “What?” Part of you was worried you couldn’t speak, but you part your lips and breathed one the single word. “Get out of the car.” He grunted this time. The count of, maybe, five went by when Billy slanted his eyes low and away from his reflection. He turned slowly to look at you before shouting, “Get out of my fucking car!” He was hurt, but expressing it the way he was raised to. He was unhappy, so now he was going to scream, punch, and strike fear in whoever’s path he crossed. You flinched scared, feeling some spit from his call meet your chin. Out of reflex, Billy saw how scared you were and opened his hands to comfort you, but he stopped before they reached the sides of your face and shoved the car door on your side open. He threw his back against his seat and turned up the radio as loud as he could, waiting as you slid out of the passenger seat and stood on the road. You were confused, hurt, and scared. Before you could reach to shut the car door, Billy drove off with this wheels screeching terribly against the pavement, leaving you to walk back home alone while he roared by himself in his car. He didn’t know what he would do if you left for college, but he had to figure it out fast as his large reaction had pushed you away already. Why couldn’t he handle his emotions better? He slammed his hands against the wheel and tried to drown out his thoughts with the loud music on his way to picking up Max. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less.

@desertsivan1995 @daddyslittlemunster

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove au #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things au #stranger things fic

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thejamesoldier · 7 years

Note

if you're still doing the Drabble thing then can you do 99 with Steve bc that would be too adOrable. If you're not then thank for the ones you already did, I really enjoyed them.

This was so fun to write, like baking cookies and then binge eating them all the second they come out of the oven. Thank you for sending this in!! xxx

Prompt #99: “This bath is too warm.” - “This is why we can’t do cute things, you complain too much.”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Tags: Literally just floof

{look at this gif…chris’ face did that}

Baths (aka Soul Healers)

Being Steve’s girlfriend is a tricky business sometimes.

The man practically has a flashing ‘FIGHT ME’ sign in red white and blue neon lights on his forehead. You and Bucky concur that Steve can be a right handful when it comes to getting himself involved in things that originally he had no business in, righteous intentions or mere stubborn determination aside. Steve’s one of those people who pushes and pushes and pushes. He’s like Tony in that way, though they express it a little differently (Tony with elaborate sarcasm and Steve with face slapping bluntness), and once Steve gets in a mood its nearly impossible to pull him out of it. You’ve learned to just let him get it out of his system and sweep in for damage control after.

In this way, Steve is what people call a high maintenance partner. Not in the usual way, and not even by choice, he just comes with a lot of baggage. Not that you minded really, you knew this going into a relationship with the Steve Rogers. You were a pretty laid back gal, you didn’t mind making room for him in your heart even if he damn near needed a football field, but most of all you loved the bundle of energy Steve always carried around with him; this spiteful will to live and fight.

That energy sometimes sputtered out because Steve is in fact human, and that’s when you step in to share your own energy, your tiny warm fire. With open arms and the promise of a safe embrace Steve’s huge soul will huddle in close to you like a moth to flame and let himself surrender to the vulnerability of actually needing someone else, of needing help, of needing support, of needing love, of needing to feel small again. The only other person Steve was even close to letting in like this was Bucky, but even then Steve still kept a good chunk of himself private. Bucky and Steve had an understanding, a silent special language that allowed Bucky to read Steve even if Steve wouldn’t say what he was feeling out loud. With Steve and you instead of that silent language, you worked your way up to actually voicing your feelings…out loud, actually speaking.

Yeah it took Steve a little more than a hot minute to wrap his mind around that concept.

At first you had to learn that unspoken way of communicating, quickly becoming a certified expert in all things Steve, reading him like a book no matter what his outward exterior was trying to convince you of. Eventually though as Steve got to know you and came to trust you not just with his life (because he honestly didn’t put much value on that so it easily was the first prize of trust to earn from him) but with his thoughts, his feelings, his honest opinions, the secrets of his heart, he crawled from the safe cave of his silent language, to the exposed naked vulnerability of the open fields of the spoken word. For him it was a big step, and a step he only maintained with you – for you.

You were always good at reading people and sensing what people needed before ever meeting Steve where this skill was a requirement for communication. This talent of yours is why you easily fit snug to Steve’s jagged, complicated side like a puzzle piece. You adapt to him, something necessary with someone with a past like his and the emotional destruction that’s practically choking him.

This big step allowed you to peel away his many masks and peer down into the very core of him. Down to a soul who was too big and bold for its original frail body and is still too big and bold even in its new large flesh home; a soul that’s always expanding, always reaching, always stretching, always trying to effect anything and everything in its path: body, world, universe and all.

A soul that’s truly meant to touch others on a worldly scale.

You can’t even begin to imagine how exhausting it must be to exist like that, to constantly strive to control or contain an instinct that’s not a conscious choice. Steve is strong – so, so strong – in the resilience of his mind and the will of his heart to not cave under such a demanding soul. People don’t realize just how much of a handle Steve has on his emotions and actions. If he let himself go completely, Steve would be a raging mad man screaming how the world betrayed him, how people – humanity – failed him, how he failed himself. Not only would he never stop screaming, but he’d probably punch and or kill anything that moved. He would be insane and you’re not too sure he isn’t. Insanity is objective you guess; humanity is insanity – repeating our mistakes since the dawn of our existence. Someone like Steve who sees the world for the weak unjust place it actually is, you couldn’t blame for going a little crazy and being just a breath away from exploding at any given moment.

Honestly it was dangerous to be so close to Steve. Not because you felt he would harm you – emotionally or physically – but because you sometimes worried that the weight he carried, the reality of life, would rub off on you; that the truth would be too much for you to handle. You aren’t as strong as Steve, you doubted many were, and sometimes you find yourself collapsing under the burden of that knowledge, of knowing how doomed we all are. It’s those moments when you realize just how resilient Steve is, how keeping his bitterness at bay under a maze of masks is the only way he can make sense of himself. It’s a miracle he withholds that bitterness from destroying him and only allows it to come out at times when Steve feels its safest and will do the least amount of damage. That kind of self control is Steve’s actual super power, not the serum in his DNA.

“Y/n the water is gonna overflow,” Steve’s voice is soft and lulling but it still wrenches you sharply from your pondering as you scramble on your knees, and reach over the bursting bath tub to twist the knob off.

When you stay on Steve’s floor in Avengers’ Tower Friday usually does the water control for you. Although you’ve never bathed at the Tower before, the AI always knows what shower head setting to use (especially when you two have shower sex) so your mind kind of slipped while you waited for the tub in your normal bathroom at your normal place to fill. Steve – the observant bastard – immediately notes your mood, having become an expert on all things Y/n like you being all knowing about him.

“Something on your mind?” Steve offers you, his tone neutral and open, giving you the control over the conversation and freedom to steer it however you wish.

Keeping your back to him as he rests the bottom of his butt against the edge of the tile counter where his and her sinks sit on top, you dip your fingers into the water and find it just on the right side of too warm. Biting your lip you stand and slip the robe you’re wearing off your shoulders to step carefully into the large tub, lowering yourself into the inviting water with a sigh.

You opt to ignore his offer for now and Steve picks up on that as he doesn’t say a word and disrobes too, sliding smoothly in behind you once you’re seated, supersoldier muscles bunching and stretching against your back as you position yourselves comfortably.

“This bath is too damn hot.” Steve remarks under his breath with a comical hiss through his teeth as he squirms against you, the water licking dangerously close to the lip of the porcelain tub as his big body moves in the tight fit of the bath.

You giggle and watch the pale skin on his long legs pressed along the outside of yours, turn a blushing spotty pink. Steve’s huge arms lift to rest on either side of the tub’s flat edges, taking refuge on the smooth cool platforms.

See, high maintenance partner.

“This is why we can’t do cute things,” Comes your lilting comeback as you melt into his impossibly wide chest behind you, slumping to slide lower against him so your head can be cushioned by his ridiculously large pecks. His washboard abs unfortunately feel like an actual washboard and aren’t very comfortable, but you catch yourself smiling fondly at the intimate touch of his half-hard cock pressing between the dimples of your lower back. “You complain too much.” You add in lazy jest, eyes closing softly in bliss.

“Well excuse me for not wanting to bathe in a vat of boiling lava.” You feel more than hear his words rumble familiarly out of the cavern of his ribcage and vibrate through your skin to settle in the marrow of your bones.

You’ve always cherish feeling this close to him, spiritually and physically.

Shaking your head (you roll your eyes even though their closed) you blindly draw designless patterns on his thick but long thighs trapping your hips, using your nails a little for a change in texture. You’re rewarded for your efforts when a delicate shiver shimmies down Steve’s spine and goosebumps rise under your fingernails.

“Always the drama king,” You simper completely content as you both soak there in the sacred privacy of your bathroom, steam curling up from the water to whisper against your skins, knowing despite Steve’s words you can feel him muscle by muscle, joint by joint, cell by cell letting everything relax.

“Am not,” He sighs on a soft exhale as his head leans back to rest on the generous ledge of the tub – you can vividly see in your mind’s eye the long thick line of his exposed neck, the hill of his Adam’s apple, the wide damp jaw sharp enough to cut through the moisture in the air.

Your lips buzz with anticipation on instinct at the thought of kissing, biting, licking, and marking up the offered skin as yours. But instead of getting riled up you let this desire swim slow and indulgently through your veins to simmer under your skin. With warmth on the inside and warmth on the outside, you glow like a mini sun caught in Steve’s orbit, a monster sun himself, enjoying the collision of different kinds of pleasures coursing through you.

“Are too,” The words hush from your throat like the wind through a small hollow log, the smile on your face sweet and resilient.

Steve only hums in response, too soothed and at peace to scrounge up one of his usual sarcastic snarks. His body temperature levels out, sensitive skin appeased, as the heat from the water is counteracted with the coolness of the porcelain pressing against the stretch of skin under his arms. You both lounge there completely stolen from the hardness of life and thrown up to float in a cloud of hazy unfiltered happiness. The intimacy of just being together, skin just simply touching, no other motive than to just be, is intoxicating. Steve did say once that he got drunk on the touch of your skin (you could have swore he stole that from Ed Sheeran even though he claimed up and down that he ‘didn’t no an Ed’) and you figured this is what he meant. Seeing as you don’t do this much, it holds all the more potency and meaning.

You’re not sure how much time goes by, neither of you really care, but a thought floats through your consciousness and you quietly break the silence.

“I really love you.”

You think Steve might have fallen asleep because he doesn’t answer after a full minute.

No matter, You hum mentally, he’ll hear it in his dreams.

But the silence is only due to him returning from his fluffy heaven and back down to a groggy mind,

“What?” His voice is scratchy, like flannel tearing, just like when he wakes up after a hardcore nap.

Steve sounds like he’s trying to orientate himself back to Earth, figuring out what century it is, what his name is and all that jazz, so you give him another minute to comprehend what you said. You feel a subtle but unmistakable shift in the air and know Steve’s come back to himself enough for you to continue. Your eyes remain closed, smile only growing before you clarify in your own gravelly sleep-voice.

“You asked me if something was on my mind earlier,” You speak slow and clear and quiet – profound, “I was thinking how much I love you.” Your fingertips had continued to caress his thighs this whole time but they stop now as you press both of your entire palms to spread lovingly against his thighs. A small but meaningful gesture you know Steve would understand much more than he would your words. “Just thought I’d share.”

Steve freezes behind you a second, gears turning, registering your touch, before lifting his head up from the ledge and sneaking his lips around the curve of your face to kiss your cheek with overwhelming tenderness. He lets his soft mouth linger there, dropping another gentle kiss in the same spot – I love you too – before pulling back to rest his cheek against the top of your head, tufts of your hair tickling his nose.

He didn’t mind the tiny aggravation as he wraps his cobra-like arms around you, holding you against him tight. You feel him smile – a sixth sense – and know that even though you both had graduated to verbally expressing your feelings, sometimes that silent language you both used to use is more powerful than any words Steve could have whispered to you in that moment.

Alrighty I’m melting. Now I wanna take a bath urgh!! Hope you guys liked it, writing content!steve was so therapeutic tbh lol xx

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