#consider this like: how good just lying naked feels and its such a peaceful and comforting moment but also u cannot get a hold of ur hands
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"it's not just about sex. it's about the intimacy, of being vulnerable with one another, being so close to one another emotionally and physically. ...but it's also about sex and fucking so good all you can think about is each other."
kuroo, daichi, noya, tanaka, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, makki, iwiazumi, ennoshita, tendou, osamu, kita
#consider this like: how good just lying naked feels and its such a peaceful and comforting moment but also u cannot get a hold of ur hands#tbh i fele like i should add someone else like someone is MISSING but i cant think rn so uh yea#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#kuroo tetsurou#daichi sawamura#nishinoya yuu#tanaka ryuunosuke#bokuto koutarou#akaashi keiji#oikawa tooru#hanamaki takahiro#ennoshita chikara#tendou satori#miya osamu#kita shinsuke#iwaizumi hajime#nova writes<3
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May not quite be domestic, but maybe, since Beau has a tendency to punch things that she probably shouldn’t (Anything that does damage back to melee attackers like Vokodo, or things made of metal like the Gorgon) and that probably doesn’t do her knuckles very good. Maybe Yasha tending to her hands after a fight?
Here you go, about 800 words, set after the fight with Gelidon during that brief time when they had the tower before they realized shit just got fuuuucked. A moment of something like peace.
Bloody wraps were not an uncommon sight on Beau; even among the rich blue coloration there were regularly darker splotches interspersed. It was evidence, Yasha supposed, of what it meant for Beau's body to literally be a weapon.
So the blood wasn't new, but the way Beau was staring blankly at her hands, sat apart from the group in demeanor if not proximity...that certainly was. Beau was kinetic by nature, compact body seeming designed to hold the energy of someone twice her size and seeming to convey motion even when she wasn't actually moving. She was sitting quietly now, a stillness over her so wrong that Yasha could do little else but try somehow to fix it. They'd fought a dragon today, a monstrous worm that had tried to rip Beau away from them and which had deterred Beau not at all from meditating on its godsdamned head. It frightened Yasha to consider what might put that stillness around Beau's shoulders in the wake of that, and she did her best to keep images of flying swords and narrow misses out of her mind as she edged closer.
Beau was slow to spot her; Yasha was forced to consider whether to touch their knees together or chicken out and was saved from having to find out what her answer might be by those blue eyes finally flicking up to her.
"Oh hey." Beau curled her fingers back into the loose fists she wore them in and put them in her lap. "What's up?"
I almost hit you with a sword again and you haven't said a word since, Yasha thought, but she just took a deep breath and said instead, "Are your hands okay?"
Beau blinked at her with something unreadable in her expression. "Uh, yeah just. Punched a dragon, no big deal. Bruised, you know how it goes."
Yasha nodded uncertainly. "Did you need some clean wraps? I noticed...it can't feel good out there, having the blood freeze on your hands."
"Oh. Yeah, it's. Not the most comfortable I guess. I have other wraps, thanks. I just...it's nothing. Just a little slow to get going." Her gaze grew distant, the thumb of one hand tracing over the back of the other in such a way that Yasha wasn't even certain Beau was aware she was doing it. Which was something else wrong. Beau was made of intention every bit as much as movement. What was Yasha missing?
Her mind ran through its usual list of worries when it came to Beau, ending with the eyes on her body as usual before tripping into whatever was happening now.
Wait. The eyes.
Yasha looked again at Beau's hands - yes, she was rubbing the hand with the eye under the wraps. It was all too easy to remember the naked fear on Beau's face when she'd woken to find her staring at Caleb - marked, the both of them, within the closes thing they had to a home.
"Well," she said, somewhat awkwardly. "I could help you, if you want. So we can um. Go to bed on time and stuff."
Beau peered at her then, and Yasha held her breath. It wasn't exactly lying, but Beau didn't need much to see through her regardless. Her face gave away nothing, but her shoulders fell a bit a moment later. "Okay. Only if you want."
"I do," Yasha said, perhaps a little too quickly. Beau didn't seem to notice; she was reaching in her pack to pull out a roll of fresh, clean wraps that she held out for Yasha to take.
"Could you..." Beau's face seemed to shutter and pull itself open again with effort. "Will you take the old ones off too, maybe? Fingers are kinda stiff."
Yasha accepted the wraps and edged just that little bit closer, so that her knees were a whisper from Beau's. "Of course." She set the new wraps on the floor beside her and held out her hand, breath held again as Beau looked from it up to her face and back before finally lifting hers and lowering to rest in Yasha's.
"Thanks," she said, so quiet that Yasha almost missed it.
"It's my pleasure," Yasha said sincerely. "I mean. Not that I'm happy you got hurt, I just. Um. I've got it."
Her whole face was flushed from neck to hairline, and if she wasn't mistaken there was some of it in Beau's face too. But she said nothing, only smiled a little to herself and let Yasha work.
And that, given everything, was more than enough.
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can you please write something about taem's enlistment? honestly feel awful i feel like he's lowkey sad about it i just wanna give baby cheese a hug :(
haiii i love this request since it is really well... timely (?). i have been planning to finish this request before taemin's enlistment but yeah, here we are... things been busy. so i hope this one is not that late and may this be some sort of comfort for everyone as we wait for our baby cheese's return.
serve well and always take care, taem! we will be just here and wait for your return with bright smiles on our faces.
taemin scenario: looking forward
pairing: taemin x reader
word count: 2.7k
summary: it is taemin's last few hours before his military enlistment and reader tries their best to ease his worries. both are making sure that they have spent the remaining time together to the fullest.
warning: semi-nudity, implied sexual activity (no smut thought)
send in your requests here!
your eyelids slowly fluttered open and soft rays of sunlight greeted your still adjusting eyes. you attempted to rub the sleepiness away from your eyes before slowly sitting up. your raised both of your arms above your head and stretched with a small grunt. the sheets fell down and exposed your naked torso to the cool breeze from the air conditioner. you looked at your side and smiled gently. you rested your cheek on your bended knee and gazed at the sleeping figure beside you.
taemin was sleeping soundly on his chest and the blanket was comfortably wrapped around his hips while his broad bare shoulders were displayed to you. his head was tilted to the side, facing your direction. his eyes were closed with a hint of dark circles visible underneath them--a sign of his hard work within the last few months. his lips were slightly parted and you can hear his soft breaths. his hair that used to be unruly as they got ruffled by the pillows was now cut short. you can't help but reach out and touch them with your cold fingers.
there he was, the love of your life. it may sound cheesy and a bit cliche but it was true. he was your first boyfriend and you were more than pleased that you're still together given how young you both were when you met years ago. you went through a lot of ups and downs like every other relationship out there. it was also challenging at first especially with the nature of his work since he can not fully dedicate his time to you. you eventually got over it mainly because you knew how important and passionate he was with his career. every after his performances, you can see his eyes lit up and his lips stretched into a big bright smile. it was then you knew you have to support this man. you have to be his rock when things got shaky and unstable.
you two actually hit a big milestone in your relationship quite recently. you were living with him for more than a year already and both of you were still amazed how no media outlet has sniffed it out yet. also considering the number of times taemin recorded a live video around the apartment, you're just thankful there were still no accidental reveals.
your train of thought was cut short when taemin suddenly stirred on his position. "sorry, did i wake you?" you asked softly as you retracted your hand away from his hair.
he shook his head before dragging himself towards you. his arms found their way around your waist and his head rested contently on your lap. you smiled at his behavior and then proceeded to stroke his hair again. both of you stayed like that for a bit and soaked into each other's presence while waiting for the drowsiness to pass.
"is it weird?" his muffled voice broke the silence after a few minutes.
"what is?" you inquired back.
"my hair." he rolled to his back and looked up at you.
"it's... new." of course it was, just a few days ago you were happily playing with his hair and extensions. he always allowed you put it up into a bun whenever he came back home. now, you can barely grip them with your fingers. "it's not weird, just new. it actually made you look younger in my opinion." you reassured him with a small giggle.
he frowned and groaned, clearly displeased on your response. he thought you were just lying to make him feel better. he won't believe you anyway even you deny it so you decided to ignore his sulking. you then began drawing lazy shapes across his skin while he started to hum one of his songs. your fingers eventually linger around his tattoos and you can't help but admire them.
"should i get one?" you muttered more to yourself actually but taemin heard it very distinctly. it made him shot up from the bed and beamed at you widely.
"you should!" he exclaimed excitedly. '"i mean if you really want to. we can even go to my artist and get one together."
"okay, calm down, mister." you chuckled since was almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "where should i place it though?"
"well... it would look nice here." he reached out and touch your rib area. his eyes soon landed on the red mark beside his index finger and a playful smirk slowly made its way to his lips. "or here..." he continued and moved his pointer on your collar bone, on another one of his marks. "here would be good too..." he went on and on while pointing out all of his work while his grin grew bigger and naughtier.
"stop..." you rolled your eyes and push his hand away. "i know what you're doing. someone went overboard last night." you can't help but narrow your eyes at him. it would be a pain to hide later when you go to work.
"i'm sorry, i just thought they would be a great parting gift." he shrugged before leaning closer. "so did you like it?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
"eh... it's alright, i guess." you teased with a joking scowl.
"well, that can be fixed easily." he tackled and pinned you down in the bed, making you let out a high-pitch scream. he wasted no time on littering quick kisses all over your neck. you writhed under him as you attempted to escape him since you were feeling ticklish from his soft lips.
a blaring alarm noise interrupted your noises and movements. taemin pushed himself up and looked at the clock on your bedside table. he took a deep heavy sigh before dismissing the alarm. you immediately felt the change in his mood as he got up from the bed.
"i'll go brew us some coffee," he announced and got out of the bedroom.
it was now your turn to sigh. you already tried your best to ease his worries yesterday but just like you have predicted he was still troubled. you can't blame him though, after doing only one thing ever since he was only 12 years old, you get why he was anxious about this upcoming change. not to mention that he will be going through this alone in a way. his other members enlisted at the same time so the thought of someone experiencing the same helped them get through it much easier.
you got up and walked towards the chair near the bed and snatched taemin's shirt that was carelessly hanging from its backrest. you pulled it down your head and you can't help but smell his scent; it was his favorite shirt after all. god, you were going to miss him so bad.
you followed taemin towards the kitchen and the aroma of the coffee greeted you. he looked at you from head to toe and it made him smirk. he knew how much you love stealing his shirts. it was quite comforting to know that at least his clothes will be used even though he was away.
preparing breakfast was peaceful and intimate. taemin was hugging you from behind while you cook your meal; outrightly ignoring your protests since it was not really easy to move around with him clinging to you. in a few minutes, both of you are sitting down at the dining table and quietly enjoying the hot food in front of you.
it felt like a normal lazy morning. days like these were common after his promotions. it was when he has some time to rest and replenish his energy. those were the days you always anticipate since you were able to see him more often and spend more quality time together. if he didn't have a buzz cut, it was easy to fool yourself that this day was one of those.
"do you think, i'll do well?" he suddenly asked when he placed his chopsticks down.
"of course," you quickly replied without missing a beat. no matter how many times you convinced him already, you will never get tired of doing it if that will give him peace of mind.
"what makes you say so?" he looked up and met your unwavering eyes. "what if i'm not fit for it?"
"and what if you are?" you challenged. "look, we'll never know something unless we try it but trust me, knowing you, you'll do just fine. they used to criticize your singing career back then and look where you are now. you don't let external factors affect you and you always work hard to achieve your goals. so what makes this different? i know once you set your heart to something, you'll be able to do it. you just have to trust yourself as well."
"always saying the right words," he sighed and rested his head on his hand. "what will i be without you?"
"still probably as great as you are now." you knew that taemin achieved his success on his own. all those late-night practices and sacrificing a normal life as a teen, it was all him. you were only his supporter who hopefully made the process a bit easier. "besides, you crushed the obstacle course in dream team last time so i believe the drills will be manageable for you." you cheekily added.
"wow, you still remember that? i'm no minho though." he shook his head while chuckling.
"no one's like that competitive monster." you scoffed.
"yeah..." he trailed off, obviously being concern about another matter again. "i hope our fans won't forget me."
"don't be stupid." you frowned and kicked him lightly under the table. "of course they would wait for you especially after being their comfort when the other members were serving their time. i'm sure that they would be counting the days for your return and they would be delighted to see you again. although, no one would be more thrilled than me so... don't forget me as well."
"how can i forget you if i will be thinking of you every single day?" he stood up and gave you a kiss on the forehead. "thank you."
"for what?" you inquired.
"for always being there especially when i need it the most." his tone was warm and heartfelt. "i should probably take a shower now."
you nodded and listened to his footsteps disappear into the bathroom. as soon as you heard the water running, you stood up as well and placed the plates on the sink. you then went back to your shared bedroom and doubled check the contents of his black backpack, making sure that he did not forget anything important. knowing him, there was a huge chance that he does. you also added a few extra clothes and toiletries just in case he did something stupid and end up breaking or losing some of his stuff.
it felt wholesome to pack his things for him. as if you were his wife helping him prepare for his upcoming trip. if only the trip wasn't going to be 18 months long.
the time flew by quickly after taemin's shower and suddenly you were by the doorway, watching him wear the straps of his backpack. you handed him his black baseball cap before fixing the strings of his black hoodie.
"you all set?" you asked trying hard not to make your voice crack. it was finally sinking in for you and you didn't want him to know that.
"yeah," he nodded as he fixed his cap.
both of you stood there, not really knowing what to do or say next. you should probably wish him luck and send him off but you don't want to. not yet, you keep on repeating to yourself. sensing your dejection, taemin suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the tightest hugs he has ever given. your hands quickly wrapped around him and you buried your face on his chest, inhaling his scent and trying to memorize it--even though you already do.
"i'm going to miss you," he whispered tenderly. "so much."
"i will miss you too." you finally let out the sob you were holding back. thinking that it was impossible, his embrace tightened even more around your shaking frame.
he kissed the top of your head and murmured how much he loves you again and again. right then and there, you wanted to be selfish and don't let him go, and as if on cue his phone started to ring. he answered it and their conversation was less than a minute but you know exactly what it was about.
"they're downstairs already," he stated as he let go of you.
"you should not keep them waiting then." you clumsily wipe away the tears in your eyes.
you both bid your goodbyes before sharing one last kiss. he then got out of the apartment and closed the door behind him.
and just like that, you were left there in complete silence. you blankly stare at the closed door and you never felt more alone in your life.
you were about to turn around when the door burst open without warning. standing there was taemin who unmistakably ran back considering his heavy pants.
"taemin?!" you exclaimed from the shock. "what, did you forget something?"
"yes, i forgot to ask you something." he exhaled. "i forgot to ask you to marry me," he said in full seriousness while staring straight into your eyes.
"y-you... what? huh?" you fumbled with your words as your brain tried to process whatever he just said. "w-what did you say? i don't--" you attempted to ask again.
"when i get discharged, will you marry me?" he repeated as he moved closer towards you. you just gaped at him without saying a word and that made the nervousness slowly crept into him. "sorry, i was not able to get a ring since this was... well, spontaneous. but um... here, will this do?" you watched him remove the ring he was always wearing on his right hand. he unceremoniously raised it in front of you and waited for your reply.
you were beyond stunned. sure, you both talked about getting married someday but you didn't think he would propose today. you always knew that when he planned for the special day, you will easily catch on. he was not really the best planner and secret keeper after all. nothing has prepared you for this moment.
"y/n?" he cautiously called out, getting a little concern from your lack of response.
you looked away from the ring and moved your eyes to meet his uneasy ones. he was undoubtedly waiting for your answer.
"yes," you barely managed to blurt out. "yes, of course, i do!" you repeated, this time firmer.
you have practically seen the weight off his back after hearing your response. he broke into a tiny celebration dance before composing himself again and sliding the ring into your finger.
"okay... i didn't think about that part." the ring was big for you which was not surprising. "sorry, i'll just get you a new one soon." he embarrassingly rubbed the back of his neck.
"it's alright, it's perfect." you can now feel another urge to cry but this time it is out of happiness.
"i love you," his expression soften and one eyebrow raised up, a habit of his whenever he says something genuine. he titled your chin up and captured your lips for a passionate kiss. you stand on your tiptoes in your attempt to deepen the kiss which made him smile. his other hand moved to your lower back and pulled you closer to him while you ran your fingers through his hair. it felt right, both of you know exactly that this is where you two belong--with each other.
however, your little heaven was interrupted once again by the ringing of his phone.
"okay, you should definitely go now." you ultimately let go of your hold around him.
he nodded. he knew he cannot delay his departure any longer. "goodbye."
"goodbye," you echoed. "just for now."
he waved his hand before going out and shutting the door. this time though, he did not come back running. you knew he was on his way to his enlistment and you would be alone in the apartment for months but right now, you did not feel that lonely anymore.
you looked down and adored the ring around your finger. 18 months would indeed move slowly but it will be bearable because this time, both of you have something to look forward to.
#shinee#taemin#lee taemin#taemin x reader#shinee requests#shinee scenarios#shinee request#shinee scenario#taemin enlistment#taemin proposal#taemin tattoo#shinee world#shinee x reader#shinee x you#taemin x you
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Detective, Stripper and Executioner
Pairings:
Main: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)
Secondary: Veronica x Zoey, Ina x MC (mentioned)
Warnings: Mature themes, mention of death
A/N: I wrote this after I hit my head, so don't mind me 🙈
The sun was already going down to let the moon shine in the sky, when Bea Hughes threw out a still smoldering cigarette on one of the city streets.
"I thought you quit."
The brunette turned at the sound of a familiar voice and saw her best friend and partner she could only dream of, smiling in her direction. She and Zoey were practically an inseparable duo after they graduated and lived together for a short time.
At the police station, they were second to none.
Zoey, was the best at talking and getting information, even the toughest guys are no match for her charm and cunning. Bea, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of her partner: cool and composed, with a hint of madness that was her ace up her sleeve.
Everything changed after a certain event that shook Bea's world and made her resign from the service for some time and completely cutting herself off from public life. The situation was so dramatic that the woman even pushed away her best friend, whom she damn well needed at the time.
But Zoey understood.
She always knew that what brought the two of them together was stronger than titanium and that they would always find a way to get back together. She loved her like sister and couldn't imagine life without Bea's sarcastic and cold comments.
"Because I dropped it." the brunette shrugged her shoulders, a smile visibly pulling at the corners of her mouth, just as a pleasant feeling grated on her heart. "On the ground, didn't you see?"
Zoey couldn't hold it in and laughed ruefully. Bea wasn't entirely sure if it was from her idiotic joke or just the fact that they were finally seeing each other. It had been a long time since she had felt such inner peace and happiness as she did now, listening to the black-haired girl laugh.
"Zoey, it's really good to see you." she walked up to the woman and gave her a friendly hug, letting the contact last minimally longer than usual.
"I wish the situation was different." the black-haired woman sighed deeply and her cheerful expression changed to one of clearly painted fatigue, which didn't escape Bea's attention as she nodded thoughtfully.
It wasn't until she got closer that she could see how big the bags under her eyes were and how much her eyes had lost their natural youthful glow. Bea felt guilty that because of her, Zoey was sure to have a lot more work to do, which even aged her mildly in appearance.
Bea is not the emotional type, but she was really worried about her friend.
"Detective Hughes, Wade." a feminine authoritarian voice interrupted their conversation and both women visibly tensed. Zoey straightened immediately as Bea slid her hands into the pockets of her coat. This is going to be good.
A woman with light brown hair and skin as white as milk, whose beauty rivaled that of many goddesses, walked toward them. The way she walked exuded power and dominance, making the heads of onlookers automatically turns in her direction. Everything from her feet to the top of her head had to be perfect.
“Chief Kingsley! How nice to see you." despite the cheerful tone with which Zoey spoke those words, the note of sarcasm was impossible to miss. The black-haired woman shifted from foot to foot, visibly troubled by the presence of the third woman.
Bea only watched Ina with cool, calculating eyes, who did not even take her eyes off her from the beginning. The woman hadn't changed since the last time they'd seen each other, and that was when the brunette had the opportunity to get to know her up close. Very close.
To this day, the scent of Ina's perfume could be smelled on her bed sheets.
She cringed as inappropriate memories began to flood her consciousness, stimulating something in her that she didn't want. There was no time for weakness in the workplace and women and romance were the worst of them.
"Who's the victim?" she asked once she was sure her voice wouldn't break under the strain of the very upsetting emotion that like a virus, had seeped into her system and was slowly wearing it out.
"Ford Tuantie, 28, single with a definite overactive sex life. He was strangled."
Another female voice interjected before Ina had time to say anything and the startled women flinched at the sound of it.
"Jesus!" Zoey was horrified, jumping away from the woman kneeling on the ground. "You should walk with a bell around your neck!" How long have you been here?" she asked surprised to see Veronica carefully scanning every last detail of the victim's body, furrowing her brows every now and then in wonder.
Veronica Lombardi was one of the best pathologists in the entire country. Her work ethic was as impeccable as the room she worked in. Her only flaw was her sharp temper, which she considered her greatest asset and source of pride.
The only person who was able to bend her was Bea. Though lately, Zoey's been doing it. On many levels.
"All the time, that's the job." she shrugged her shoulders without taking her eyes off the victim. "You'd know if you were doing yours properly." She added teasingly, winking at the woman. A red blush of embarrassment spread across Zoey's face.
Ina grunted loudly, visibly annoyed by the spectacle.
She stepped between the two women and focused her attention on Veronica, who made no secret of the fact, that she would be most happy to ignore her. "You mentioned about a sex life?"
Bea moved away a piece further, dragging an even redder Zoey with her to question potential witnesses to the incident, leaving the two women alone with each other. The tension between them was highly visible. Anyone who worked with them knew, that Ina and Veronica together, were only good at jumping down each other's throats.
"The man lying here is a perfect example of why I prefer women." she said proudly, tilting her head slightly to the side and tucking the genetic sample into a container.
"To the point, Lombardi." Ina snorted visibly disturbed by her subordinate's unnecessary comments.
"Of course." Veronica rolled her eyes discreetly. "I found several sachets of condoms in his pockets. In addition to the strangulation marks on his neck, there are visible scars on his body from fingernails, rather feminine if I may add." seeing the chastising gaze of her superior again, Veronica only sighed.
Ina nodded and walked around the man's body looking for any particular clues, but was unable to see anything special.
"He still had this in his pocket." Veronica carefully handed the woman a crumpled paper, which when unfolded turned out to be a flyer for an exclusive adult club in a nearby area.
After a brief examination, Ina nodded in acknowledgement and approached Zoey, who was talking animatedly with the witness, almost giving the impression that she was flirting with him.
"Wade, you and Hughes go to the strip club where our victim was last seen alive." just as Veronica had earlier, the woman held out her hand with the flyer and showed it to the black-haired woman, who scanned it with a sharp eye in a flash.
Zoey's eyes lit up and she had to concentrate hard not to show her superior how happy she was to be going to such a club. There's rarely time to relax in a job like this, so every opportunity like this is worth its weight in gold.
Plus, sexy women.
"Oh god, stop drooling already Wade." Ina crossed her arms over her chest, chastisingly looking at the woman standing in front of her. She never would have expected to be assigned a bunch of kids like that. "Pathetic." she chuckled as she walked away, leaving Zoey alone with herself.
***
"You'll like this." Zoey said excitedly, parking the work car in front of the large building from which the hushed rumble of music could be heard.
"A strip..." Bea said grimly as she turned her attention to the large led sign with the outlines of a cocktail and a naked woman. "Club." she finished looking towards her partner, who was looking impatiently at the large door leading to the supposed paradise.
"Well don't tell me it won't be interesting!" Zoey darted out leaving the dazed brunette behind and without looking back, disappeared into the fog and the glow of dim red lights.
Bea didn't like places like this; loud, overcrowded and dripping with visible sexual tension. The music rumbling in the distance made her slightly dizzy, and the thick fake fog floating around, limited her vision.
It was distracting, and the last thing she needed was trouble focusing on her work.
Having trouble finding her partner, Bea leaned against the nearest pillar and scanned her, surroundings once more, this time more calmly. Her gaze stopped on a single dancer who, for some reason, particularly caught her attention.
The woman's cascade of blonde hair glinted in the muted red light, imitating as if sparks were dancing between the strands. She wore a carnival mask over her face, but Bea was sure she was the most recognizable figure here. Her shapely body bent to the rhythm of the music, intimidating everyone who looked at her with its divinity.
In front of the stage was quite a large crowd of fans, who surprisingly were able to stand on their own feet.
As if sensing the brunette's gaze on her, the woman raised her head, crossing their gazes: hers mysterious and inviting, Bea's cool but excited.
The blonde winked flirtatiously, definitely sensing how Bea was responding to her hypnotic hip movements, which, accompanied by slow, sexual music, were impossible to look away from.
A slightly out of breath Zoey interrupted their moment, as she shielded her view of the stage and made Bea snap out of her strange trance.
"We're looking for a dancer nicknamed Queen B. Blonde hair, mostly performs in pink lingerie and a tiara on her head. She's supposedly very popular here, so I think we'll have no problem finding her."
"Not even a little bit." whispered Bea, who, without saying anything else, began to head towards the stage where the woman they were looking for had just danced. A strange feeling of indefinable excitement grew in Bea with every step, that brought her closer to meeting this mysterious Queen B.
As she walked backstage, a sweet rose scent hit her nostrils, enveloping her senses and making her slightly dull. How long had it been since she had smelled such a sexy feminine perfume? And how long had it been since the last time anyone had affected her in any way other than repulsive?
"I knew you'd come here." an especially lowered female voice echoed through the room, causing the women's heads to immediately turn in its direction.
From a distance Queen B was phenomenal, but up close she was arousing feelings of such intense lust in Bea, that she had not yet felt with any other woman. She almost felt guilty. Almost.
Zoey looked questioningly at her partner, but when she looked away, she smiled in understanding. This would be fun to watch.
"I'm detective Hughes, and this is detective Wade." she nodded in Zoey's direction, trying to ignore with how much curiosity the blonde's eyes were skimming over her body. "We're here to ask about your yesterday's client, a certain Ford Tuantie."
The blonde mused for a moment tilting her head to the side and revealing a piece of her slender neck. If Bea could read women's language, she would have thought she was doing it on purpose to distract her.
"Ah yes, Ford." she began, completely changing her tone of voice to a more formal one.
She stretched out in one of the comfortable looking pink couches and indicated to the others to sit too. Without a word of objection Zoey and Bea complied with the woman's silent request and followed suit, occupying the sofa next to her. The blonde seemed very pleased with herself for some reason, but her face became formal again.
This woman's ability to change her emotions was remarkable.
"Ford and a couple of his colleagues were popular VIPs here. From what I recall, they even formed a club for themselves." the woman shifted her leg over and clenched her thighs together, absolutely certain that Bea would take notice.
She wasn't wrong.
"When was the last time you saw him?" asked Zoey, noticing how Bea was focused on everything else but the blonde's words, which was totally unlike her.
But that was the truth. Bea watched diligently as the woman's full and seductive lips spoke words, whose meaning didn't even reach her in the slightest. It was like a charm had taken hold of her, and she didn't want to look for an anti-spell.
How many lonely nights had it been?
"Today he was here for a while. As I think about it now, he was clearly arguing with one of the members of this club of theirs. It almost would have come to hand-to-hand, but the security here is very good. Nothing goes unnoticed here." again that cursed wink, as if the last part of her statement, was specifically directed at Bea.
"The bartender can tell you more, he heard the whole incident and I don't like to gossip. I'm a fan of discretion." a flirtatious smile, flutter of eyelashes. Women who know how their charm works on others, are damn dangerous.
Zoey nodded and rose first from the couch. "We'll contact you if we have any other questions, thank you." without looking back the woman left the room. Her behavior worried Bea, who saw the strange look Zoey gave the two of them, before she disappeared back into the depths of the club.
Bea moved to follow her, but something stopped her. Obviously.
"Detective?"
She closed her eyes taking a deep breath. How could one stupid word she said, have more of an impact on her, than her entire previous relationship? She clenched her hands into fists feeling the blonde's gaze burn a hole in her back, but said nothing, waiting for the other to continue.
A strange silence descended on the room, not even drowned out by the rumbling music from the main room and the whistling of the men. At this point, the two of them were in a completely different reality, which was even more dangerous than coming face to face with a murderer. Or rather, that's how Bea felt when she began to hear the clatter of heels heading her way.
She turned on her heel and immediately her neck was encircled by the blonde's arms, which clung to the brunette's stiff body. Fortunately, Bea had her poker face trained, so when she looked down at the satisfied blonde, her expression betrayed no emotion, not even the slightest.
"I'm here almost every day." she muttered and her hot breath brushed against the brunette's neck, a pleasant lightning bolt coursing through her body.
Bea had to use all her rationality to disentangle herself from her embrace and move away, instead of pressing into her inviting lips. She momentarily felt the absence of this woman at her side. She cursed in her mind at her weakness. She was acting like a horny teenager.
Queen B rolled her eyes playfully and bit her lower lip. Now she looked like a child, who was trying with all its might to solve a mathematical equation on its own, but no matter how much it wanted to, it couldn't. After a few moments, her face clouded over, which completely knocked her out of her character.
"Be careful, Detective Hughes. There's more going on here, than you think." was it possible that worry was painted on her face?
"What do you mean?" she asked, but the woman's face returned to its previous flirty expression and Bea knew she wouldn't get her answer, and she didn't have time to force it.
Turning around, she walked out of the room this time, squinting to find Zoey. She didn't spot her anywhere so she figured the black-haired girl would be waiting for her outside.
When she emerged from the club the moon was already towering in the sky and the air was cool and refreshing.
Zoey leaned against the hood of the car, moving her leg every now and then as if in nerves. She looked mightily pissed off and Bea was sure it was her behavior, that had caused the black-haired girl to be in this state now. If she had heart, it would have broken in half at the thought of the conversation, that was probably about to take place.
"Damn it Bea!" irritation in her voice was definitely noticeable. "Get a grip on yourself, you're a detective, not a frisky teenager! People's safety is in our hands!"
Jealousy?
"I know I acted unreasonably, which could have affected our investigation, I really do." Bea said cautiously, but the trigger had already set off much earlier and steam was almost coming out of Zoey's nostrils. There were moments when the black-haired woman scared her to the core and right now, the brunette would most like to hide inside her four walls.
"You don't know shit Bea..." in the blink of an eye her voice went to the verge of crying, as if all the negative emotions that had been accumulating during their separation had just exploded and pierced the fake facade of her composure. "That day, you weren't the only one who lost someone. I lost someone too." tears began to drip from Zoey's eyes, which Bea felt like wiping away, but she didn't move. "My best friend."
Those words hit her right in the feels.
"Zoey..." Bea said her name in a pleading tone, which worked the other way and upset the black-haired woman again.
"I don't feel like talking to you anymore tonight." those were the last words Bea expected to hear. She had an incredible urge to run up to her, hug her and apologize for all those moments of separation, but she respected her too much to invade her space
As the black-haired woman approached the car the deafening silence was pierced by a terrible bang, followed by Zoey's body falling to the ground, motionless, with a loud thud.
"Zoey!"
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5. "Wait a minute... are you jealous?"
KakaSaku or SaiSaku?
kakasaku OR saisaku??? orrrr both???? let’s do both
-
It had started innocently enough. Sakura and the girls were enjoying a nice soak in the baths, chatting and catching up, spilling the newest, hottest gossip and sharing general life updates. When Tenten shared a particularly juicy exploit, Ino’s spirit had been so overwhelmed with titillating scandal that she simply could not remain submerged any longer.
That’s when Sakura saw the sunflower scrawled across her skin, curving around her breast, dainty and yellow and so cute, and so not something that was there the last time Sakura saw Ino naked. It was a more frequent occurrence than she cared to admit.
“What the hell is that?!” she demanded, grabbing Ino by the arm and ogling her side-boob shamelessly.
“Geez, Forehead, grope much?” Ino complained, pulling her arm out of Sakura’s death grip. “It’s just a tattoo,” she said, scowling at Sakura.
“When—how—why?” Sakura stuttered, lifting Ino’s arm again to get a good look. At Sakura’s flailing, all the girls grew interested, approaching Ino to get a peek themselves. Ino rolled her eyes but Sakura knew she enjoyed the attention.
“Sai did it for me,” she said with a smile. “Look!” she held her arm up of her own volition and then Sakura watched as chakra flowed through the lines in her skin before the sunflower petals started languidly spinning, and the flower tilted gently from side-to-side as if it were searching for the sun.
“So cute!” Hinata cooed, sticking her face in Ino’s armpit to get a closer look.
“I want one!” Tenten whined, sticking her face beside Hinata’s, and leaving Sakura standing off to the side fuming.
It wasn’t so much that Ino had gotten a little, permanent piece of art from Sai on her body, but that she hadn’t even known Sai could do that. And why hadn’t he offered that to her? He was always giving her his sketches and paintings, and she was always happy to receive them.
It was just a stupid little flower, she told herself. Did she even want a tattoo? She had her Byakugou seal, and her ANBU tattoo, but was she even interested in having something else on her body? She told herself that if she had never considered it before, then the answer must be no. Placated, she finally dropped her attitude toward Ino. Even if it had taken her about a week to come to that conclusion.
So, attitude dropped, she carried on with her life. That was, until she was sparring with Naruto under the summer heat, and she saw what he was sporting on his bare chest.
“What is that?!” she demanded, jabbing her finger into his sweaty skin hard enough to make him yelp.
“Ow, Sakura-chan!” he whined loudly, recoiling from her finger. She glared at him without an ounce of remorse. “It’s a fox,” he said with a pout, rubbing at the offending inked skin. She could see it was a fox; fierce and baring its teeth and snarling across his right peck.
“Did Sai do that?” she asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Naruto looked scared to answer, but the longer she glared at him the more nervous he became. He had apparently decided he was in more trouble if he remained silent, which was definitely a new one for him.
“Yeah…” he said timidly before a grin broke out on his face. “Look!” His chest puffed up with pride and then chakra flowed through the ink before the fox on his chest was snapping its jaw and baring its claws. Sakura growled with the ferocity of the fox as she stalked away from him and their spar. “Sakura-chan! Wait for me!” he wailed.
She did not.
Sakura could maybe believe that Sai had been seduced into decorating Ino with a tiny flower and had not seen fit to tell her about it. But Naruto? Why would Naruto get something so personal and special, but not her? They were all on the same team, and she thought she and Sai were friends. She certainly spent enough time explaining the intricacies of friendship to him for the title to be warranted, she thought.
She decided to address the problem at the root, and just ask Sai what was going on. Maybe he’d be waiting for her with his brushes out, and some extravagant design planned out for her. Maybe he had been using Naruto and Ino as practice to make sure he got hers right.
What she found when she let herself into his apartment was absolutely not that.
“What is this?!” she cried, pointing in accusation as Sai held a paintbrush to Sasuke’s skin, intently focused on the black lines that curved around Sasuke’s arm from his wrist and all the way up his shoulder toward his neck.
“A snake,” Sasuke answered coolly, casting a bored glace her way before returning his gaze to Sai’s work.
“I can see that,” she growled. “Why is everyone getting tattoos but me?” she whined, feeling a little bratty as she did it, but too far gone to stop herself. “Sai!” she cried when neither man answered her. Sai sighed and bowed his head, finishing off a line before raising his eyes to her at last.
“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, considering her closely. “Are you jealous, Sakura?” he asked, his mouth downturned in a confused frown.
“No,” she said, even though she was absolutely, undeniably teeming with jealousy.
“This seems like jealousy. I’ve read about that one a lot,” he said conversationally before returning to the snake wrapped around Sasuke’s arm.
“I’m not jealous!” she snapped. Sasuke scoffed and Sai hummed thoughtfully as all his attention was sapped away from her and into his work. She silently sat herself into a chair across from them and seethed as quietly as possible just to prove how not jealous she was, not that either of them really cared.
The longer she sat there staring, the more she had to grudgingly admire the elegant lines that travelled up Sasuke’s arm. Smooth and rounded, a perfect juxtaposition against the sinewy muscles they travelled, and stark black against Sasuke’s fair skin. Goddammit, it’s beautiful, she thought as she slipped further into her envy.
Sai seemed to finish it off pretty quickly, not that she really knew how long it took, because she had been completely enraptured with the process. Before she knew it, the snake’s head was drawn, its teeth bared and reaching for Sasuke’s neck. Then, Sai formed the seals with his hands and pressed his chakra into the ink, and Sakura watched as it settled into Sasuke’s skin instead of sitting on top of it, and then finally, as the snake started writhing, slithering across Sasuke’s chest, around his neck, down his arm and then back up it again to settle in its original position.
Sai looked very pleased with himself, and Sasuke looked about as pleased as he ever looked, and the only person in the room who wasn’t being the least bit pleasant was Sakura. All the pretty drawings in the world could not wipe the scowl off her face.
“Still jealous?” Sai asked innocently enough, though all it did was enrage her further.
“Why did you do one for Naruto, and Sasuke, and Ino, but not me?” she asked, feeling like a petulant child as she stomped her foot and pouted.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” he said with a calm smile and a small shrug.
“I’m interested!” she cried. “I would have liked the option, at least! I thought we were friends,” she said, her pout deepening as Sai met her ire with an innocent cluelessness.
“We are,” he said with another sweet smile. She wanted to thump him over the head.
“Then why didn’t you offer to do me!” she complained.
“Sakura,” Sasuke intervened, sounding beyond exhausted with her. She turned her pout to him instead. “You are a control freak,” he stated simply and she balked.
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are,” Sai said happily as he packed away his ink and brushes.
“I—I can let go! I can be out of control!”
“The only thing out of control right now is how jealous you are,” Sasuke said as he shrugged into his shirt.
“I knew she was jealous,” Sai said with a joyous smile and creased eyes, and gods, she wanted to thump him.
“I am not jealous! I am not a control freak! And I want a tattoo!” she demanded.
“This is your problem,” Sasuke said with a sigh before he headed out, leaving Sai alone with Sakura and her wrath.
“I want a tattoo,” she reiterated, putting ample effort into sounding calmer than she felt. Sai shrugged.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. Lie down,” he said, unfurling his brush set and waiting patiently for her to sprawl herself onto his couch.
“But…but what are you doing to do?” she asked remaining frozen where she stood. His head tilted as he considered her.
“I have a very specific image in mind. No one else was concerned, they just let me do it,” he said with another small shrug.
“You…you didn’t ask them? Or…what if I don’t like it? What if it’s not what I want? What if—”
“This is why I did not ask you,” he said with a smile that conveyed his understanding, but deeply grated on her nerves. Out of spite for that understanding smile and Sasuke’s snarky voice echoing in her mind, calling her a control freak, she stomped over to the couch and flung herself down onto it, glaring up at Sai.
“Do whatever you want,” she said with conviction, even though she was feeling anything but settled in this decision. Sai’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise before he settled into another happy smile.
“Please do not try to hit me,” he said softly before he pushed her so she was lying on her side and then curled his fingers into her shorts to push them down over her hip. She fought the urge to reach down and whack him into next week, instead settling for an indignant yelp.
“What are you doing?!”
“I’m going to put it on your hip,” he said, fixing her with another peaceful smile. “You said I could do whatever I want,” he reminded her gently. She swallowed her pride and her shouts of protest and resigned herself to lying in silence, enduring the strange breeze on her butt and Sai’s cool fingers on her skin. She gasped a little when she felt the cold, wet ink hit her skin.
Too late to turn back now, she thought as she forced herself to relax into the couch while Sai worked diligently over her skin. She found that it wasn’t all that unpleasant, even though sometimes she could feel his breath blow across her hip, providing a jarring reminder that she was damn near naked from the waist down.
She didn’t even try to sneak a peek at what he was doing. She was too nervous, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know.
“Why my hip?” she asked eventually, because it seemed like a safe question.
“You have nice hips and thighs,” he answered simply. She felt her face flush and she settled into the couch a little easier. It seemed Sai had given this some real thought, at least. Even if he hadn’t told her about it, she felt placated that he had thought about her and what she might like. Placated enough that she almost felt like she shouldn’t have gone through with this.
But her pride was on the line. No way was she going to let Sasuke run around this village pretending like he had her pegged. Haruno Sakura was not a control freak. Even though she had been prompted into doing something very unlike herself just to maintain control over her self-image…
She would dissect that later. Right now, there was ink sprawling across her hip, from the top of her thigh, curling around just slightly to her butt and up toward her waist. Gods, whatever it was, she hoped she could live with it. She could probably skin-graft herself using medical ninjutsu, she told herself. More than anything, she just wanted to shove this in Sasuke’s smug face.
Ino’s sexy sunflower would be nothing compared to this, she told herself. Assuming she liked it, that was; and assuming she wouldn’t have to regenerate a huge bit of her skin in the event that she couldn’t stand the sight of her own body.
“Done,” Sai said happily. “Do you want to see before I seal it?” he asked, smiling at her over her hip. Yes, she thought. Yes, get this off of me right now.
“No, I trust you,” her stupid, stubborn mouth said instead. With a small shrug, Sai made the hand seals and pressed his chakra into her skin. She stayed put for a while longer, waiting for something to happen. The only thing that happened was Sai moving away from her to pack up his supplies.
Finally, after lying there with her ass out for a little too long, Sakura sat up and pulled her shorts up.
“Don’t you want to look?” he asked as she stood and readied herself to leave. Was it rude if she just ran home and lamented for a while? Like a day? Or five days?
“Oh—um, right. Yes, of course,” she said before shuffling toward his bathroom to peer at herself in the full-length mirror. She closed the door behind her, just in case she had a bad reaction. She didn’t want Sai to feel bad. She stared up at the fan on the ceiling, willing herself to look. Her eyes refused to obey.
Pull your pants down and look, dammit.
She exhaled sharply and forced her gaze onto her reflection. The piece was big enough that it was poking out under the hem of her shorts an even over the waistband, and gods, what had she been thinking? But from the small glimpses around her shorts she could see an interesting mix of colour, not at all the stark black ink she had seen on Naruto and Sasuke.
Curious, she eased her shorts down over her hips to stare at the piece. It was all soft lines and colour; pinks and whites and greens, spread across her. A big branch of cherry blossoms growing delicately across her skin, small blue and white slugs dancing in the branches between the blossoms, and when she activated the chakra, the petals fell and fluttered, and bloomed again, while the slugs languidly slithered about.
She stormed out of the bathroom with her shorts still bunched around her knees and hugged Sai tight around his neck.
-
As pleasantly surprised as she was by the tattoo, it took some getting used to. She found herself shuffling around people, hiding her right hip from them, unsure how to explain the large piece of art that had appeared on her skin. All her bravado at rubbing it in Ino’s face had dried up pretty quickly.
She found that she was staring at herself a little longer in the mirror as she looked at it. She wondered how Sai had planned it so it perfect curved with her body. So the colours perfectly blended into her, and complimented her. It looked like it belonged there. She found herself less willing to share it when she came to that realization.
Oh, well, she thought. At least it seemed less petty this way. There was just one person that she really wanted to show now…
“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” Kakashi asked as she waltzed into his office and perched herself on his desk.
“Because I just single-handedly, successfully performed a craniotomy,” she said with a bright smile.
“Haven’t you done that before?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t hurt to remind you how awesome I am,” she said, swinging her legs and smiling down at him until he paid her her due attention, instead of frowning down at the paperwork she was half-sitting on. He sighed as he looked at a document that was lodged under her thigh.
“You’re sitting on my—what is that?” his eyes were glued to her thigh. She’d been careful to wear shorts long enough to cover her new tattoo, but it seemed that in hopping on his desk, she had also hiked her shorts up a little too high.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, pulling the hem down to cover herself, but he swatted her hand away and tentatively peeled back the fabric to look at the bit of ink poking out.
“That’s a tattoo,” he said before raising his eyes to her. “You got a tattoo?”
“Well…I didn’t really get a tattoo as much as I let Sai paint on me,” she said, shrugging and wriggling uncomfortably under his stare.
“It’s permanent?” he asked, his eyes sliding back down to her thigh after she’d nodded. “Can I see it?” he asked so softly she almost didn’t hear him.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, her cheeks blazing. His fingers were playing at the hem of her shorts, reminding her of the last time those fingers had played near her.
“Show me,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looping his hands under her knees to tug her off his desk.
“I’m not pulling my shorts down in the middle of your office,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn, and knowing that he was smirking under his mask, as if telling her that it wouldn’t be the first time. “Fine, just a quick look,” she relented, furtively checking over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed and no one was peeking in before tugging down one side of her shorts to bare her hip to Kakashi.
His hand immediately moved to cradle her hip, his fingers ghosting ever so softly over her skin as he drank her in.
“Very nice,” he breathed out, eyes glinting mischievously when he felt her shudder at the feeling of his breath blowing over her.
“Yeah?” she asked, feeling a little breathless. He hummed lowly, his dark eyes shamelessly taking in the curve of her hip and the pink flowers that adorned it. She activated the chakra and smiled to herself as he watched the fluttering petals and slinking slugs move along her skin.
“Sai did this?” he asked, sounding suspiciously curious as he ran his fingers from the top of her hip, back around to the curve of her backside and then down to where the piece tapered off at her thigh. “He certainly got an eyeful,” he mumbled as he laid his hand flush against her.
“It’s just Sai…” she said, staring down at him, completely puzzled. He hummed vaguely before gently pulling her shorts back into place with a small kiss to her hip through his mask, making her shiver under his hands. “Kakashi…”
“Shall we?” he asked abruptly, eyes creased happily as he stood from his desk to lead her out of his office. She watched him with narrowed eyes as he circled his desk and headed for the door.
“Wait…” she said, watching his back as he feigned nonchalance. She had known him long enough, and certainly knew him well enough to know when he was faking it. He turned to face her, his crinkly-eyed smile still in effect. “…Are you jealous?”
If he was jealous, he certainly didn’t admit it. Those shorts never did make it out of his office, though.
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The Harvest - RE8 Fanfic
The Harvest
A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana
Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader
Notes: heey, so here is Part III, hope you all enjoy it! i'm thinking of starting a new story soon, once this is ended, probably focusing more on world building and Karl and reader relationship hehe
Warning: NSFW content
Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2) Part II - The Lord
Part III – The Hunt
Getting to know the factory turned out to be a fantastic experience. You had never seem so many different paraphernalia in your live, the closer you had ever got to that was when you were a child poking around your dad’s storeroom, but there were only some tools, agriculture products and inherited ornaments from your cabin family – these last ones were your absolute favourite.
Heisenberg’s factory, on the other hand, was full of interesting things, some of them you had no idea what were used for. You even found a suspicious “torture” room, but couldn’t dig into it, once he was nearby. Still, you found his journals narrating his experiments, his audio reports and some guide books on mechanics that had you intrigued for a long time while reading them. He was a madman, you were convinced, but at the same time, that secluded part of you was growing a little each day you explored his life.
Lord Heisenberg was nicer and quieter than you would imagine. He basically lived in his various offices across the factory, mostly he would be trying new mechanisms on bodies and seeing how they reacted with the Cadou, the strange parasite the villagers mentioned only on rare and veiled conversations. As far as it wasn’t you, or your family, lying cold on one of the stretchers, you didn’t care. As a matter of fact, you felt tempted to try some things with the gears yourself as you deepen your studies in his books.
At your first days there, you got worried you would have to share the bed with him, which would be much more proximity than you had ever had with another person. The man had already seen your half naked and that was enough. However, he didn’t sleep there with you and you wondered why, once he so enthusiastically mocked you about it when you arrived. Actually, you started doubting he ever slept at all.
You were still a bit scared, though, never knowing if he would play a prank on you, so you were very careful to avoid him for a while - that didn’t endure –, believing you should give him space to get used to your presence after the mood he got into after your reception.
He was disturbed, indeed. His work was getting closer to a crucial point that involved Mother Miranda. He musted be discreet, but it was proving to be a real trial with Soldats activating and running around as lost beasts. Also, having you around actually gave him a new problem.
Lord Heisenberg would walk around the factory looking for material, testing the Soldats and cursing a lot, some of these swearwords you didn’t even know, but started liking how he used them, almost cartoonish. It was never directed to you, of course. He acted like you weren’t there most of the time, in others, when he was more chilled, with less work to do, he asked “how is the mess at the wing, buttercup?” laughing at you blushing at his indiscreet platonic flirts.
You had to find your way around the factory. That place was a labyrinth and a map would come handy, so you drew it on some clean papers you found lying around, loving not to get lost anymore. You hadn’t been face-to-face to one of his creations yet, just saw them on the production lines on the overview of the factory and on some specific rooms. You also avoided it due to fear.
He told you where the wing to be cleaned was and you found it after an hour. It was so incredibly packed with mechanical parts that you could barely come inside to take a look. Huffing, you thought that he could solve that without moving a muscle. It made you mad, but also made you wonder what you were doing there. You cleaned it anyway, as it was your duty and used that waste to build some minor projects.
At the end of your expedient, your hands were orange because of the rusty irons you were moving all day long and you had little cuts here and there, but nothing really bad. As it was going, it wouldn’t take long for you to finish cleaning and could even decorate it for him, making it feel more like home to you too.
You were liking it there. Of course, it was dusty, grey, sometimes rusty and hot all the time, but it was also very different from everything. Once you said goodbye to the cabins, then to the Village and maybe being away from Miranda’s dominance made you feel lighter.
You found some red fabric lying around somewhere, appearing to be forgotten, made some nature sketches on blank papers and put yellow lights on the bedroom and on Karl’s soon-to-be new working room. It looked cosy. You hoped he would appreciate it when he met the reformed wing, until then, you would keep quiet not to bother him.
Though, shortly after you finished decorating the bedroom, an event destroyed your plans of avoiding Heisenberg. On your daily route to what you would now call your wing, you crossed the kitchen and found an overcoat-less Karl trying to prepare a sandwich. He had any chef’s nightmare happening in that place. There were blunt knives flying around, a metal cup chasing the kettle spilling hot coffee all over the floor as he tried to open a bottle of whiskey and, finally, hot coffee hit Heisenberg’s chest and he screamed and cursed like a sore animal.
“FUCK!” He thundered, his word echoing in the corridor where you stood.
You couldn’t ignore that scene even if you tried. You were getting tired of not talking to him, you lived together now and all your few friends were slowly becoming distant memories. You would be happy to hear his voice, something else than gears rumble, even if it was cursing your predecessors.
As a powerful person, he would try to use his powers to do simple things and do a real mess instead. You felt compelled to give him some support, maybe it was a part of your mother’s care for others that lived in you too. You entered the kitchen headstrong, holding a laugh at his misery looks. Now he was stroking his shirt with a cloth and only noticed you when you were getting around the island.
You didn’t know, however, he never “never noticed” you. He felt your presence at the corridor before you saw him and he felt ashamed of you seeing him failing at a stupid task, and so forth his reaction was to be boorish.
“What?” He asked in a rude tone.
“Just let me help.” You offered, placing your hand in the air between you two. It wasn’t really an offer, you were just being polite, you would help him one way or another, you would have your small talk, but he wouldn’t give up so easily. “Please.” You asked, making the sweeter voice you could.
He huffed and threw the wet cloth on the sink. You took another cloth from one of the drawers – you were getting used to the utensils’ places –, wet it a little with water and looked at him, your head slightly tilted to the right.
“What is it, kitten?” Heisenberg questioned, roughly playful then.
“It is your shirt.” You pointed.
“Yes, it is dirty. Weren’t you trying to help?” He started to lose patience.
“Yeah, I am. It is just… You will have to take it off.” You let it out unpretentiously, although in your mind you were revengeful.
“Oh.” He understood and immediately took it off with so much easiness you wondered how many times he did that when you were so uncertain of it at your first day.
You had never seem him shirtless. To be quite sincere, you hadn’t seen many shirtless men in your life. The Village was a very cold town, once it was deep into a forest in the mountains, so even in the summer there wasn’t a hot weather, so people tended to keep their clothes on. Because of this, when he took it off you instantly blushed at his scarred chest.
He has what you would call a dad body. It isn’t really sinewy, although still very strong with thick arms and defined muscles. He has some belly, which means he isn’t a skinny person, but he isn’t fat also. And maybe you took too long looking at him like that and feeling weird feelings you would think about later that night.
“You’re almost drooling there, buttercup.” He teased you and when you quickly, but gently, started cleaning his chest with the cloth, so you wouldn’t have to answer, he gave up a deliciously loud laugh.
You laughed with him, making him laugh even harder. You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked it, this casual connection between you two. The laugh died a gradual death and you started moving you hand on his chest, feeling its warmth below the cloth. You could almost swear his breathing was getting faster and you saw he was biting his lips, maybe because you were taking too long. You didn’t want to finish, but you both know there wasn’t much coffee on him anyway.
You put the cloth with the other one in the sink and as you watered them, you saw him going to get his shirt that had been laying on the island.
“No, no, no.” You said, taking it from his hands kind brusquely, making him confused. “I need to wash these.”
“I see.” He said, raising his hands to show he wouldn’t try again, as a peace offer that made you grin.
“I can finish your sandwich for you, it will only take a minute.” You added, embarrassed to be so bossy with him.
“I will be at my office.” He told you and left without looking back.
You thought he got mad at you because of the shirt situation. It made you sad, you started having a nice approach. To compensate you made him a really good sandwich with the meat and vegetables you found in the refrigerator. Searching for food there you considered asking him to go see the Duke and buy supplies, maybe even hunt, because you didn’t have enough provisions. Anyway, you also prepared the coffee, poured a glass of cowboy whisky – sipped one, two or three times yourself – and cleaned what was there to be cleaned. It took more than one minute, but less than teen.
You were heading to his office when you heard a muffled noise. It sounded guttural and made you shiver. Electricity running through your body, making you feel hopelessly exposed, only that countered by the alcohol it felt good. You stepped carefully as you got closer to the door. You considered not knocking, but the noise made you knock.
“Just…” He gasped. “Leave it at the door, please.” Heisenberg was painting, but he asking “please” was what made up your mind, that politeness wasn’t usual, so you did what he requested.
You wanted to be around him on that day, but chose to respect his privacy. You didn’t imagine that his mind was blowing with you, he desperately wanted to continue the kitchen talk, but couldn’t give himself the chance once he was so close to perfecting the Soldats.
To ease your thoughts, as you were no longer requested at the factory, you tested your stealth skills and slipped to the forest behind it, caring your bow and arrows determinedly.
You were familiar with that area as you have hunted all around the Village, thus, you knew where to go to find good preys. It was by the lake were the deer stopped to drink water. It was far from the factory entrance, but again, you knew exactly what you were doing. When approaching the lake, you climbed a tree and waited.
It didn’t take long until a lonely deer appeared, unsuspicious. It leaned its head so it could reach the water level and started drinking it. You positioned one arrow, held your breath and did the physics magic. The arrow nailed its left eye. It didn’t scream, it was over very quickly.
You climbed the tree down, came closer to the body and tied it with the rope you brough from the factory. Your way back wasn’t effortless, you were slower due to the extra weight and the lycans sensed its blood, their sounds were all around you. They wouldn’t hurt your, though, somehow, they knew you were with Heisenberg.
It was past four in the afternoon when you reached the factory, panting with the effort of bringing the deer. Heisenberg was poking around for something in his front yard. He noticed you just as you appeared in his peripherical vision. He walked towards you, with an intrigued expression that transformed into an impressed one when he saw the deer.
“Some gifts you have there, kitten, ain’t gonna lie.” He commented, squatting to take a good look at the animal. “How did you do that?” It was clear he didn’t mean to offend, quite the opposite, he was genuinely curious.
“A girl has her secrets.” You answered, when you finally stop panting, shrugging when internally you are fulfilled someone knew about you hunting and didn’t seem mad at you.
He wasn’t even angry you left the factory without his permission, which made you happier. He stood below you with the animal for a few seconds more, than got up on his feed, laid his hands on your shoulders, well, on your skin hunting jacket, and said “You are really something, kitten.”
You fell for his words. You never wanted to feel that dependant on someone’s appreciation for you, but with him it was lighter. Karl took the weight of the world off your shoulders by bringing you there and kind off supporting you even though you had only spent little more than a month together.
“Thank you, my lord.” You spoke.
“Stop it. Call me Karl.” He said roughly, but good hearted. “Now, do you know how to clean this deer?” Heisenberg asked.
Usually, Duke would do it for you, although you knew the theory, you hadn’t much practice.
“I was hoping you could help me with it, Karl.” You suggested, toasting him a malicious smile.
“For fuck’s sake.” But he cursed laughing.
He cleaned this table at the garage and disposed the deer there. You helped him doing the messy job, learning with him what you only saw the Duke doing. It wasn’t pretty, but you were comforted by his presence and obstinacy. He probably did it often as it showed, but didn’t bother to take it slower so he could teach you.
Heisenberg enjoyed that night more than you could imagine. He didn’t care for the Soldats, they could wait, it was nice being around you for a change, not running away from your hair, your smile, your presence. For the first time in his life, he actually had someone who wanted to be around him.
Later your prepared venison, demi-glace, potatoes, a fresh arugula salad and both of your enjoyed dinner at the kitchen island with bottles of dark beer. He was funny, he was tripping over words a little, due to the alcohol, but his stories, oh man… He was a real brat. You told him about the cabins and the hunting. He listened carefully, never judging you and laughed at your silly manners, at your etiquette and, over all, loved your cook.
He slept in the bed with you, tired, amused and drunk, he sunk in his dreams. You stayed up a bit longer, resisting your lazy eyes temptations just to appreciate his scent, it would smell like burned wood.
#resident evil#re8#karl heisenberg#re village#karl heisenberg x reader#resident evil 8 village#heisenberg#heisendaddy#heisenberg resident evil#resident evil viii#resident evil 8 fanfic#original post#resident evil village#re8 karl heisenberg#resident evil heisenberg#fanfic#re fanfic#the harvest
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Ace fic request if ya feel: Jmart taking a bath together at Upton, w some nonsexual nudity/intimacy? Thank u!!
“Ahaha, I’ll ask for some ace fic prompts and do drabbles for it!” I said, naively. 3K words later. Thank you Gwyn for reading over this and fixing my typos because it is. now coming up to 5am because I decided to write 3K in one sitting
CWs for talk of nudity but no one ever gets full nakey. Jon also has a brief panic about not being able to protect Martin without the Eye.
Ao3 version too
They’d probably been awake for an hour or so by the time the feeling of grime coating his skin became intolerable.
It felt wrong, really, the juxtaposition of the soft, clean cotton under his head and the greasy knots his hair had woven itself into over the course of their journey. Like it was insulting to the pillow, the case of which, Jon guessed absently, was worth more than his entire bed back in his flat, if it was still standing.
And wasn’t that something? To have to guess that and not just be aware. As it normally was, the Beholding would inform him that that wasn’t quite true, as while the sheets on this bed were certainly nice they were more chosen for display purposes than with the intent of anyone truly sleeping in them. The house was a museum. The curators had not supposed upon the current scenario.
The current scenario being that there were two men lying in it, half asleep, lying still and just staring at each other with an eye-watering fondness. They had spoken, when they first awoke. Got out all the words they wanted to say. The “Where are we” and the “How long were we asleep?” and the “Is it finally safe to rest?” and the “I love you so, so much.”
Now the thing to break the silence was the sound of Martin’s stomach making its discontent known. This, of course, sent them both into peals of laughter, because when was the last time they’d felt mundane hunger?
“Do you think they even have food here?” Martin asks, still buried up to his neck in duvet.
“Perhaps? Salesa surely has to eat, if we do.”
“Yeah, but Annabelle though,” Martin chews his lip in mock contemplation. “What if we go downstairs and open up all the cupboards and it’s just… Flies as far as the eye can see, all wrapped up for eating. There’s one in the fridge all done up on a platter like a Christmas ham. Cloves spiked into it and all.”
Jon winces. “I’d really rather not picture that right now, if you don’t mind.”
“Ah, course,” Martin says, looking slightly sheepish as they lapse into silence again. “Should probably go check though. Don’t exactly want to have gotten through all that just to starve. Though I’d happily let this be my death bed, honestly. Don’t think I’ve slept that well in… Ever.”
“Mmh, now that you mention it, I’m quite peckish as well… Odd, that. Had almost forgotten what it felt like.” Jon heaves himself into a sitting position, and takes stock of the door to his left. “Probably the bathroom. Ensuite. Very nice.”
“You want to get cleaned up before we go scavenging?” Martin asks, prying the duvet away like he’s pulling teeth. Jon feels bad that they can’t just stay in bed all day. He hadn’t been able to sleep, in the safe house, but Martin had chosen to dream. He might be biased, but Jon figures that that was probably worse. Martin seemed now to be relishing the opportunity to relax.
“I think we rather need it. Not keen to embarrass ourselves in front of our hosts a second time, so I’d rather not appear downstairs looking like something the cat dragged in.” Jon shoves the duvet away and gets, somewhat shakily, to his feet. Damn. No Beholding means the pain from- Where- The wound… His leg hurts. It means his leg hurts something fierce. He hopes he can stand in the shower.
When he makes his way over to the door and swings it open, it turns out not to be a concern. The bathroom, in the fashion of the rest of the house, has no shower. Instead, a comically beautiful bathtub sits against the opposing wall. It’s a clawfoot, gold varnish painted over its feet where porcelain turns to antique wood.
“You want to go first then?” Martin asks, slowly pulling the duvet around himself again.
Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll go on ahead. You enjoy the extra time.”
Martin gives him a smug look and burrows down again. God, Jon really, really loves him. Which is why, when he puts his hand on the door handle to close it behind him, he freezes.
Statement readings aside, this will be the first time Martin has been out of his sight in… However you choose to categorize the indefinite amount of time they spent roaming the hellscape. And even then, Jon had his powers. If anything threatened Martin he’d be there to help him. To save him. The Eye offers no such comfort now. Jon doesn’t want to close the door. He doesn’t want Martin out of his line of sight. Not with Annabelle here. He won't leave him alone, not now.
“... Jon? You okay?”
Jon realises he’s been standing in the doorway for at least a minute now, hand frozen in indecision. He blinks a few times, trying to bring his eyes back into focus. He opens his mouth, and finds himself gaping slightly, looking for the words.
Martin shifts, sitting back up again. “Jon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
It comes out like a croak. “I- I don’t Know.”
Martin’s tone is gentle, placating, two hands gently offered out in Jon’s direction. “You don’t know what’s wrong?”
“No, I don’t Know,” he can feel tears beading at the corners of his eyes and tries to push down the lump in his throat. He’s gone this long without crying, why does he have to go and do it now, ruin the peaceful moment that he’d watch Martin lapse into like a drowning man with air.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Martin hushes, sliding out of bed and walking round from his side. He brings his arms around Jon and just lets them stay there, not pulling him against his chest in a restrictive grasp, but just laying his hands against his back, letting him know he’s there.
Despite his best attempts, Jon lets out a hiccup. “And- And that should be a good thing. It should. I don’t want to Know. But it’s… I’ve spent so long with this constant presence at the back of my skull and now it feels… It’s raw and it’s vulnerable. Annabelle Cane could be a wall away and I’m vulnerable and that means you are too. If I’m in another room, I can’t Know if something is wrong, and more importantly, if something does go wrong I can’t save you.”
The right wrapped around to hold Jon’s left hip, Martin’s free hand has been tracing soothing patterns into his back through his shirt. It stills when Jon finishes. He takes a moment, before breathing out heavily through his nose. He leans back slightly so he can look down and match eye levels.
“Jon,” he says, and his voice is as soft as that duvet felt. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m so sorry. I thought being free of the Eye would be a good thing, I didn’t even consider how it would feel for you. I can’t promise nothing will go wrong, because… Well, our track record speaks for itself. But I can try and ease your fears.” He brushes Jon’s fringe out of the way, and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “Tub seems pretty big. How do you feel about taking a bath together?”
Jon feels his face, flushed from tears, pale. And oh what a relief, to feel a fear so comparatively… Mundane. To not be afraid of the cosmic monstrosity in the back of your brain, or the spiders with motives that scuttle across the ceiling, or the fact that you are responsible for the suffering of billions. Oh to be afraid of… Intimacy.
Martin must feel him tense, because the hand on his back drops away, and the one at his hip loosens its grip. “I’m sorry, if that’s too much, we can just-”
“No,” Jon cuts him off, and is surprised at his own voice. “No, I… I would like that. That sounds nice.”
He knows it’s from his earlier anxieties, but Martin must still be able to feel Jon trembling slightly under his hand, because he continues to give Jon a sceptical look.
“Forgive me for being blunt, but you really don’t seem up for that. If that’s not in your… Intimacy wheelhouse, I get it.”
“I’m just a little shaken, is all,” Jon says, but he knows there’s a truth to Martin’s words. He knows Martin respects him and his orientation, they’d had long discussions about it in the safe house, about boundaries and desires and how Jon wanted to spend his days glued to Martin’s side but he under no circumstances wished to have sex with him. He knows that this isn’t what that is, that Martin means it in the most innocent fashion imaginable, but there’s still something about the idea of close, physical proximity while naked that makes the hairs on his arm stand on end and his stomach churn.
It’s not that he was bashful about it. He’d seen Martin naked before, gotten changed in the same room most mornings and evenings in the safe house, but that was just a symptom of existing in the same space, never something actively done with the intent to exhibit. It had, predictably, stirred no feelings in him. The idea of them so close while not clothed… No, that wouldn’t be happening.
“I- Can I make one request, though?” Jon asks, tilting his no longer watery eyes up to meet Martin’s.
“Anything,” Martin replies, no hesitation to be found.
Jon feels his face flush again, and the rapid pooling and draining of blood from his face must be doing terrible things to his circulation. “Can- Can we keep our underwear on? Please? God, sorry, that must sound horribly childish-”
“No, no that’s okay. Whatever you need to feel comfortable,” Martin says and his voice is not so much laced with sincerity as built from bricks of it.
They break apart and Martin ambles through the doorway and over to the bath, turning the water on. It sputters, clearly struggling after years of disuse, but after a few seconds it flows clear. Martin waits for the brackish residue to be cleaned away before popping the plug into place.
Jon preoccupies himself with looking over the shelves. They were well stocked, likely by Salesa, as Jon has a hard time believing that plastic bottles full of opalescent purple liquid were considered period appropriate set dressing. He pops the lid open on one and is met by a strong whiff of lavender. He tucks it under his arm before swiping a shampoo and matching conditioner.
“Find something you like?” Martin asks, leaning against the edge of the tub. Jon hums a response before joining him. The tub was filling up quickly now, almost half way full and the water is pleasantly warm when he drags his fingers through it. Jon deposits two of the bottles where they can be grabbed when needed, before taking the lavender body wash and drawing swirls into the water until a layer of foam and bubbles begin to build on the surface.
When Jon turns back to face Martin, his fingers are twitching at the hem of his t-shirt. Whoever was responsible for transferring them from cold marble floor to warm bed had also seen to it that their shoes were removed, as well as their bags and coats, which Jon had seen folded and placed over a chair in the corner of the bedroom. They were both down to their now ripped, muddied and bloodied trousers, and two v-neck t-shirts from the same set, Jon’s of which was tucked into his jeans to disguise the fact that it was several sizes too large. What possible conclusion could be drawn from that?
Martin cleared his throat. “Do you mind, then, if I…?”
“Yes, of course, go ahead.”
Martin pulled his shirt over his head.
It’s not that Jon didn’t find him attractive. He did, very much so, just in the romantic sense. So seeing Martin shirtless was similar to seeing him in a particularly flattering outfit. It didn’t change the way he felt about him, just intensified it. He was very handsome and Jon enjoyed getting to look at him.
He pulls his own shirt over his head, before turning back to trail his hands through the water again, trying to gage the temperature and encourage more bubbles. When he turns back to face Martin again, he’s fiddling with his belt, eventually getting it undone and letting his trousers drop. Jon does the same. And then nothing more happens, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not that he hadn’t trusted Martin to keep his word and not fully strip on him, it was just.. It was a relief.
“Shall we?” Martin asks, gesturing towards the water.
“Let’s,” Jon responds, hooking one leg over the edge before stepping fully into the bath, and letting himself sink below the water.
He’s just about acclimated when suddenly the water is rising slightly as Martin joins him, placing himself at the other end of the tub. There’s not enough room for his legs, so he ends up with his knees close to his chest, sticking out of the water. Jon’s just about fit, stretching down to the other end of the bath and bracketing each side of Martin’s hips.
If the bed was heaven, this is absolutely blissful. The warm water surrounds his aching joints, slowly massaging them as it laps around him. The water, just seconds earlier clean and pure, is already starting to take on a stale quality as the dirt begins to slough off of the two of them, but Jon can’t bring himself to care for relief that it’s no longer coating his skin. He thinks the lavender may have been a bad choice, because between it and the warmth he’s finding it hard not to fall asleep again.
“This okay?” Martin asks, because he’s still worried about Jon and his comfort and that makes his heart ache with affection, that someone would care that much about him and his boundaries.
“Far more than okay,” he responds, dragging one hand down the other arm in an attempt to get some stubborn filth off. Martin is doing the same, except he’s wisely taken a sponge from somewhere and is scrubbing at a spot on his ankle where his trouser and boot hadn’t quite met and the Buried had decided to leave a crusted circle in its wake.
They sit in silence for quite a while, each taking care of their own needs before Jon reaches one arm out of the bath to make a swipe at the bottle of shampoo.
“Here, let me,” Martin says, breaking the quiet. He shifts forward slightly, on instinct, before pausing and rocking back slightly. “If you want, that is. Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you want me to do your hair? It’s just- It’s probably easier, y’know, than you trying to do it yourself.”
“And far more romantic,” Jon adds, smiling as he leans over to press a kiss to Martin’s freshly cleaned cheek.
“That too. Do you want to turn around?”
Jon answers wordlessly by shifting until he’s facing away from Martin. He’s surprised, but not unpleasantly so, when Martin’s arms wrap around him and gently pull him backwards until his back is just shy of flush with Martin’s chest. It’s very intimate. It’s very nice.
“That okay?” Martin asks again, and more than ‘I love you’, that’s a phrase Jon will never grow tired of hearing because it means Martin truly cares for his comfort.
“Absolutely.”
“Good,” Martin says, as he uncaps the shampoo and pours a small puddle of it into his hands. Even turned away, Jon can smell the wafts of artificial apple scenting in the stuff.
When Martin starts to gently drag his fingers against Jon’s scalp, he can feel himself almost melt under the touch. His spine loses all tension and he lets himself fall back entirely against Martin’s chest, and it’s only the knowledge that he needs to keep still for Martin to actually do his job that stops him from turning and burrowing his face there.
“I really hope that was a positive thing and you haven’t just fainted on me. Like, literally on me,” Martin says from behind him and this close, pressed up against him Jon can feel it reverberating in Martin’s chest.
“Still conscious, don’t worry. That’s just… Very nice.”
“Oh! Well… Good.”
This continues for a few minutes, Martin slowly making his way from the scalp down to the roots of Jon’s hair, untangling it with his fingers and then repeating the process with the conditioner until his hair ran smooth under Martin’s hands. Even when Jon knows he’s long finished any actual hair care, Martin continues to run his fingers through the hair, just because. Jon loved him for it.
Eventually, both of Martin’s hands come to rest against Jon’s torso. “This okay?”
“Yes. I don’t mind any of the touching, as long as it’s… Nowhere previously established to be out of bounds.”
“Gotcha,” Martin says, pressing a kiss to Jon’s shoulder that makes his brain fizzle like fireworks.
It takes Jon a minute to fully realise what Martin is doing. Two hands trace lines along his ribcage, one on each side, thumbs gently drawing and redrawing a pattern. His scars.
Then, the hands travel upwards. Again, two lines along his chest, traced with as much tender care, and Jon’s brain has gone a little fuzzy. He’s unused to such casual touching. There is nothing hurried about it, no urgency, no purpose other than to make him feel good. To make him feel loved and cherished, and if he’s being honest, it’s working. No ulterior motive. This isn’t the lead up to anything. It just exists on it’s own as an experience he gets to have without worrying about what comes after, because he knows the answer is nothing.
After, Martin shifts slightly, leaning forward. One hand cups Jon’s elbow, raising that arm out of the water as one by one, from shoulder to palm, Martin makes his way down pressing a soft kiss to each and every circular scar. He repeats the process with the other arm. As if to finish it off, he presses a slow, soft, close mouthed kiss to the line that stretches across the front of Jon’s neck.
He’s perfect. Martin Blackwood is perfect and Jon doesn’t know what he did to deserve… This. This quiet barrage of love, the consideration and care poured into it something Jon never thought he would be worthy of, let alone have become a reality.
Jon twists to lie sideways, pressed against Martin with his head tucked under Martin’s chin. Martin’s knees bracket his shoulders on either side and he feels safe. He is in the eye of the storm, a brief respite from the dreadful horrors that ravage the world outside their bubble, but with Martin Blackwood he is safe.
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Utterly Devoted | Kix
Word Count: 4,370
Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x Reader
Summary: You and Kix demonstrate to each other just how deep your devotion lies
Warnings: Explicit smut, tender sex with lots of feeeeeelings because I’ve made this man suffer through the previous chapter, eating pussy as a thank you gift because why the fuck not is there really a better way to start your morning when you’re stuck in the middle of a shitty war, some soft pillow talk to top it all off.
a/n: This is a belated bday gift to @morganas-pendragons! Hope you enjoy the Kix pipe hehe
Its also a continuation from this chapter of my Touch Starved series, consider this the smutty sequel that touches on some of the events that happened the night before.
Tagging: @thatonesakudere, @kaminobiwan and @simping-for-fives (Send me a message if you wanna be tagged in any of my future fics!)
The first thing you notice when you awaken is how groggy you feel, it's as if there is a solid weight pressed against your body and mind, it fights with your half-delirious state of being in an attempt to drag you back down to slumber.
The second thing that dawns on you is that you are not dreaming and there is indeed a heavy weight slung over your chest, but his name is Kix, and he’s currently snoring into your shoulder with the rest of him draped around you like a loth-cat in a sunbeam. He’s also currently dominating the majority of the bed space, which was cramped to begin with, yet you can’t help but smile and relent into the warmth he offers with little more than a roll of your eyes that he won’t see.
It's just nice to see him so peaceful. You can’t confidently recall the last time you had seen him with anything less than a crease to his brow, and a sleep-deprived scowl poisoning his handsome face in the rare moments he allowed his composure to slip. This is nice, it's warm and safe and feels like home for you both despite the hell you had both endured barely a full 10 hours earlier. You’re determined to grasp onto this ribbon of tranquillity for as long as the galaxy permits you to.
The buckling pain that bites down your side when you twist too suddenly to get a better look at him is a painful reminder of that. You force it down in order to run a gentle touch over his cheekbone as he too begins to stir awake, as if the bond you have forged has demanded that he too be pulled from his slumber to meet the morning air alongside you. Two violet rings of exhaustion circle under his eyes as they flutter open to meet your own. Your fingers glide to brush against the one decorating his left socket on impulse. It takes a moment for him to swallow down his disorientation before his vision focuses completely. You note the spark of confusion that flashes across his expression before it dawns on him that no, this isn’t a dream and yes - you are settled in his arms in the same position you had been the previous night when he had curled into your chest until his tears had ceased soaking your shirt’s fabric.
There's a hint of shame that trickles into those tired eyes then and you smile openly in the hope that it will quash any guilt squirming in his gut before it forces him to voice it.
“Good morning, my love.” The sound of your voice is soft and still swaddled with drowsiness. It still manages to pull the corners of his own lips into a sleepy smile, and there's a twinkle in his honey-coloured gaze as his eyes open wider now. The sight of it settles oddly in your stomach, it's the first time he’s looked like himself in a while, the realisation of that fact hurts a little, but you try to focus on the happiness that bubbles alongside it instead.
You’re both alive and you’re together - you’re lucky in so many ways to be squashed into this tiny GAR-issued cot with the man you love. It’s a privilege so many others would kill for, and right now all you want to do is sink into him and forget all about your injury and the God-forsaken war that has caused it.
You lean forward to press a kiss against his forehead, right where the crease of his frown usually sits - thankfully, it's absent this morning, replaced by a honeyed mixture of amusement and adoration as his eyes drift over the sleepy bliss that dances upon your face.
“Good morning yourself.” He waits until you pull away to speak, words tumbling out in a deep purr. They catch in his throat before he clears it of any remaining evidence that indicates he had spent the previous evening crying in both relief and frustration at your situation.
You thread your fingers around the back of his skull to stoke across the seam where his hairline meets his nape. The action is meant to be comforting, but it appears to stoke something deeper in his eyes as he sighs into the contact, tilting his head back in such a way that makes the rumble that echoes through his throat all the more prominent. Kix attempts to keep the lazy smirk on his face as he peers at you through heavy, dark eyelashes, but there's a hazy lust swimming beneath them now. It pairs itself beautifully with the spread of blush peppering his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The whole combination taints his attempt at playing off his bravado with an unmistakable bashfulness that has you smiling even wider against the pace of your own quickening heartbeat.
Your fingers continue to wind teasing little circles down his neck as you still to watch his reaction, lying in wait and thinly veiled curiosity to see what his next move would be. Kix watches you with just as much intensity, tongue jutting out to wet his lips for a moment as his blush grows darker under your touch. His grip around your middle flexes with uncertainty as he cocks an eyebrow when you drag your hand down to rest on his shoulder, digits drumming against the muscle in silent anticipation.
The air between you has shrugged away it's quiet serenity now, what has sunk in to replace it is much more charged, but still apprehensive of crossing the final line with the fear that the other was not completely open to the idea of embracing it, considering all that had unfurled the night before.
He kisses you then, shattering it. The press of his lips is hungry, and carries a hint of the same desperation they had tasted of the previous evening when he’d told you he loved you between the salty bite of tears and yearning. But even so, this is different, because he’s yours and the pain attached to his confession feels long spilled now. By the second time your lips meet, you’re openly sighing into his mouth and you catch the hitch in his own breath as you do so. The fire is all but blazing in his brown eyes when you finally part, though you only get the chance to stare completely into its flames for a moment before he’s pushing himself up to loom over you, fastening you down against the mattress with little more than the press of his hand against your own beside your head.
“How about I help you wake up properly, hmm?” Gone is the tiredness in his tone. His voice reaches you in a husky, thickened wave that wraps down your spine in a shiver. A quiet giggle of delight leaves you as you stare upwards at him, and his smile cracks wider to reach his eyes at your reaction. It sings of the old Kix, the real Kix, and that knowledge warms your heart even deeper than where mere lust could ever hope to reach it. There's still a nagging hint of concern tugging at the corner of your soul however, even despite the heat licking between your thighs at the thought of having him completely. It reminds you that you’re still concerned about his well being considering everything he had endured as of late, as well as the fact you were very much still sore from your own physical injury. Kix seems to read your thoughts because in the second of silence that separates the two of you, his expression softens in time with his voice.
“I’ll be gentle with you, I want this too, so much.”
Another kiss, this one soft and prolonged, whispering adoration and assurance into the very heart of you.
“I love you.”
You seize the forbidden fruit and completely melt into his embrace.
The next thing you know, you’re stripped bare and writhing beneath him as he kisses his way down between your thighs. He’s attentive to each catch of your breath and the buck of your hips when one of his hands ghosts over a particularly sensitive patch of skin in the dip of your hip bone. You have to remind yourself to breathe each time his lips edge further down your torso, the muscles of your abdomen rippling beneath his teasing caresses and the fan of his breath as he chuckles to himself at how you squirm at the slightest indication of him travelling lower, towards where you crave him most. Kix is as naked as you are, having wasted little time tearing off his blacks alongside each article of clothing he stripped away from your own body. His hand was quick to recapture your own in its grasp once he had you exposed to his satisfaction. Your fingers remain caged amidst his own, held hostage while his other hand continues to grope and explore the expanse of your flesh, only breaking their journey to bat away your own free hand each time you reach out to attempt to grasp at him.
“Ah, ah, ah, nope,” His voice is playfully frustrating as he reprimands you, another chuckle slipping through it when you finally relent and flop down in exasperation at his refusal to let you touch him in return, “this is about you, lay back and let me take care of you, cyare.”
You’re about to clap back at him with a sarcastic rebuttal when the sensation of his breath over your core rips any remaining shred of coherency from you. You briefly register him mutter something about ���thanking you for everything’ and the feeling of him hauling one of your thighs over his shoulder before the sound of your own moaning echoes in your ears. It forces you to clamp your trembling free hand over your mouth in an attempt to keep your noises of delight secret from the rest of the base. It’s counterpart remains laced with his own as he pulls it down to rest near your hip and squeezes it reassuringly to ground you both from floating away with the clouds of lust permeating the room.
Kix groans against your folds as he drags his tongue over your clit in long, drawn out stripes, clearly revelling in the taste and slickness coating his lips. You can feel the scratch of his stubble brush against your inner thigh with each movement of his jaw and it only heightens the fire spreading across your nerves further. It takes a good minute before you can find the strength to push yourself up to lock eyes with him from where he’s stationed between your legs, the heavy-lidded expression decorating his face only pushing you further towards your peak. He looks positively love-struck as he lathes his tongue against your cunt, relentlessly switching between circling your clit and teasing the tip of the slick muscle inside of your entrance in such a way that has you seeing stars once your head tilts back once more, never quite letting you adjust to one pattern before catching you off guard with another. You lift your hips and grind against the pressure his tongue lavishes on you, chest heaving with the threat of a quickly approaching climax, one that’s only spurred on further when Kix’s chest rumbles with a shuddering moan as your slick runs down his chin and onto the sheets below.
It's dizzying almost, and he has you sobbing and babbling sweet nonsense into the pillows when your first orgasm hits you with a shock that threatens your vision white. Kix remains between your legs even as you begin to come down from your high, rubbing soothing circles into the twitching flesh of your thigh as you take in heavy gasps of warm air to steady your breathing.
“You ok there, cyare?” The warmth bubbles upwards to your chest once you register the care cradled in his words.
“-Mmhmm,” You’re more than ok, despite the tremble in your legs you feel fucking elated after his display of ‘gratitude’, but the intensity of your orgasm has left you feeling so dazed it takes a substantial deal of effort to simply nod your head as you remain slumped against the pillows and crumpled sheets.
Kix waits patiently for you to regain composure, his fingers dancing over your hip now as he admires you in your afterglow. You suddenly feel a little shy, spread out, spent and wet beneath where he cranes over you, but the feeling quickly fades as fast as it surfaces because it's Kix and he makes you feel safer than anyone else in the universe.
“I’m great, actually,” Your voice is somewhat raspy from the strain of your moaning, but Kix still grins at you like you’ve just serenaded him instead. The sight of it flusters your words all over again, “‘wanna - want to make you feel good too though, want you, Kix.”
His blush deepens further as the air appears to leave his lungs through his nose at your blunt confession. He swallows thickly, and you can see the remnants of your wetness glistening around his mouth in the dim light.
Now it's your turn to smirk.
He’s lost for words for a moment before he can bring himself to crash down and kiss you again. This time you can taste yourself on his lips and the knowledge of what you’ve shared only makes you groan louder and buck your hips against him, finally released from the cage of his bicep around your thigh. You can feel the length of his cock, hot and heavy and desperate as it skims against your stomach and smears a trail of precum across your skin. His hands remain planted at either side of your head, holding his weight up on his forearms so as not to crush you or potentially aggravate your injury any further. The care he takes in handling you softens your heart, but you note the hesitation stiffening his muscles.
“...Hey,” your tone is as soft as your eyes as you reach up to cup his cheek and force his gaze to yours, marvelling in the way the heat of his body so quickly envelops your own, “I’m not going to break. It’s already healing thanks to the bacta so you don’t need to worry. Please.”
“...Ok.” He keens into your touch as you once again rake your fingernails over the seam of where his tattoo meets his hairline, you make a mental note to remember the reaction such a mindless gesture draws from him. When his eyes reopen to lock with yours, they’re practically swimming with a gilded stream of desire. “I love you.”
You don’t have a chance to repeat the declaration back to him before the words are stolen from you and replaced by a stuttering moan as he pushes into you. Your head hits the pillow the same moment he bites a mark into the curve of your throat and stills his hips against yours, completely submerged within your cunt until his pelvis kisses your own. You both moan in tandem as you flutter around him, split open and stretched in the most delicious way with his pubic bone grazing your clit.
You’re sure you hear him bite down on a whimper as you give an experimental buck of your hips, his eyes closing the moment you wrap your legs around his middle to force him impossibly closer still. Kix’s hands fist the sheets beside your head, and you’re confident you’ve never seen a man look more beautiful than he does in this moment. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and you crane your neck upwards to press a kiss to his chin, a silent plea for him to move and drag another wave of pleasure from your body. Broad hands fly to cup your face the moment he begins a slow pace inside you, the weight of his body falling to his elbows as his eyes snap open to watch for your reactions. He feels incredible, pulling out nearly all the way before snapping his hips back to meet your own each time in long, deep thrusts that have you moaning obscenely each time he comes to the end of you. He steals each sound from your lips with a series of sloppy open mouthed kisses, showering you in stumbled words of praise in a mixture of basic and mando’a.
The bed creaks beneath the force of your bodies, and at this point you’ve all but abandoned your attempts to keep quiet in favour of whispering just how much you love him and how good he makes you feel. You cling to his shoulders as he fucks you deeper into the mattress, holding onto him just as tightly as he does to you - it's a wordless promise that you aren’t going to disappear and abandon him, that you’re his as much as he’s yours.
“-Feel so good, so good to me cyare, always been so good to me-” his gritted-out praise tightens the coil in your stomach and all too soon you feel the familiar creep of another orgasm approaching you. His hands skim over your chest, stomach, face, before settling themselves with one cradling the back of your head whilst the other snakes downward to rub at your clit in tight little circles that have your eyes rolling back into your skull.
His praises fall off into a string of hurried curses as his hips begin to stutter to an erratic pace, however, his eyes never leave your own all the while. His jaw is clenched tightly, pulled taunt like the muscles in his arms as he angles his thrusts to drag against something delicious within your walls that has you mewling in delight. Despite the intensity of his actions, he’s still so gentle, so attentive in how he handles you. Ever vigilant to note each reaction you make to his touches and taking care not to jostle your still-healing body too violently.
“Fuuuck… Fuck! I love you - look so pretty like this, so perfect - just wanna stay like this forever.” His words are borderline incoherent now as he resigns to losing himself inside you, punctuated by rattling groans and a sigh that gets knotted in his throat as the emotion of the moment washes over him time and time again with each thrust.
The moment he dips down to moan into your open mouth as he sheathes himself completely to the hilt once more, you let go. You topple over the edge into a second orgasm that's so strong that it tears a silent scream from your lungs and forces fresh, hot tears of relief to gather in the corner of your eyes, body and mind wrecked in unison from the over stimulation of it all.
Kix follows you into climax straight after, succumbing to the way you tighten and flutter around him as he attempts to fuck you through your orgasm until your toes are curling against where they rest on his lower back. His hips falter and he all but whines as he stills inside you abruptly, eyes finally screwing themselves shut as he pulses within you and paints your insides in thick, hot ropes. He keeps your lower body close against him even after his breathing begins to even out and his cum has long since began to drip out of you from around his softening cock.
You feel thoroughly spent now, limbs heavy and head spinning with the force of the orgasm that had just claimed you. Kix is the first to shift properly, withdrawing from you slowly with a kiss and a low groan that you feel more than you hear. The medic takes a moment to give you a quick visual once over, but you swat at his shoulder in mock annoyance despite the fatigue clinging to your joints. He relents, flopping down beside you and taking up an embrace the mirrors the one you had awoken tangled within that same morning.
“I love you.” You swallow thickly around the words as you gaze at him, despite the lull of your afterglow, they come easily to you and you relish in how normal it feels to say them, to be held in his arms as if you were the only two souls awake in some private little galaxy you had created together. “I love you and I want to stay like this forever with you, Kix.”
His eyes hold a different tiredness now, this one is satisfied and soulful and free from worry - at least for a little while. You hope that this happiness lasts for him, he deserves it more than anyone else you know.
“I love you more, mesh’la.” His fingers reach up to brush against your cheek before pulling you in for a tender kiss, humming in contentment before parting slightly to mutter against your lips, “m’just sorry I don’t have much more to offer you than my charming looks, taste in brandy and my unofficial record for being the fastest at stitching up an incision in the whole GAR.”
You snort into his neck in response to the ridiculous quip before nuzzling your nose against his pulse. He squirms a little at the tickle of your breath against him and you make another point to remember the location of the sensitive spot for a later date.
“But honestly,” his tone drops to something more serious and your eyes wander back to lock with his own, a ghost of a frown pulling at your brow at the change, “you’ve always had to put up with a lot when it comes to me… you’re only going to have to deal with more where loving me is involved-”
“Kix, stop.” You’re firm as you catch his hand in your own, squeezing it to stress the finality of your statement before gracing his knuckles with another light kiss, “Nothing is easy at the moment and loving you is the one thing that's come so naturally to me. I don’t want anyone else because simple or not, they aren’t you.”
He smiles, wide and true before he begins to slowly encroach towards you to steal another kiss-
Until the shrill beep of your comlink shocks you both apart.
You shoot the device a glare, grumbling in annoyance as you untangle yourself from Kix to fish the offending item out from where your clothes lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. He chuckles into his fist and you give him a sideways glance in warning before raising the comlink closer to your face, winching slightly at the brightness flashing from the thin strip of its display.
“Hello?” The annoyance bleeds into your voice before you can think to stop it, a cold pang of panic shoots through you at the realisation that you forgot to check who it was contacting you before accepting the transmission.
“Good morning, am I right to assume that Kix is with you currently? It’s just that he was supposed to be present in the medical bay this morning to relieve me from my shift and yet here I am still - and I happened to bump into a trooper that claimed he saw you bundle him into your room yesterday evening.” It’s Officer Eir, and judging by the dryness coating his tone, he’s in a foul mood and more than aware of why Kix is late to tend to his duties despite the concern he had shown towards your lover the evening prior. You suppose the lack of sleep would do that to anyone.
Your cheeks automatically swelter with heat, quickly beginning to regret trusting the Medical Officer with the closeness of your bond with Kix. The man in question looks mortified at the circumstances he’s found himself in, but he still cockily mentions for you to tell Eir ‘hi’ despite fully knowing that the irritated clone could easily hear him over the line. You can envision Eir’s deadpan blink from all the way over in the medical ward.
“Honestly, I don’t know why I even wasted my time thinking about calling Kix first. I’m glad that you made sure he wasn’t alone last night, but need I remind him that stimshots are too important to waste on a hangover… or any other activity related fatigue that doesn't benefit the Republic.” You hear a sigh from over the comlink, the digital rendering making it sound crackled and disjointed - but it still makes you feel as though you’ve been singled out for committing a heinous crime all the same. “...I’ve taken the liberty of finding him a spare pair of scrubs, because I know he won’t want to risk returning to his bunk late while there are Jedi milling around.”
Kix raises his eyebrows thoughtfully, clearly touched that his fellow medic took the time to cover for him despite no doubt being desperate to lay down his head and rest.
“Um, yeah ok Eir I’ll… pass on that information to him - goodbye.”
You’ve never hung up on a call so quickly, and you hope to the Maker that no one had somehow managed to intercept your communication line. Kix still carries a bashful flush of his own, but it doesn’t stop him from grinning boyishly before another quip leaves his lips.
“Should’ve told him that I’ve already eaten breakfast too, bet that would have flustered him even more than you.”
The comment earns him a sweaty pillow to the face.
You still send him on his way with a ration bar all the same, taking a silent delight in how unsteady his initial movements are when he rushes to slip out of your door and down the hallway. He flashes you a wink and the hint of a loving gaze before slipping back into the role of a disciplined soldier once more as his long legs carry him away.
After he’s gone, you take a moment of private reflection to delight in how your spirit seems lighter and your heart feels fuller than it did yesterday.
Cyare.
You would never grow tired of hearing that fall from his lips.
#kix x reader#kix#kix reader insert#clone wars reader insert#star wars imagine#star wars reader insert#touch starved#WOO HERE IT IS#my first full length smut fic#mine#this got soft
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Forever my wife
Just my take on how the WayHaught wedding could’ve turned out. I wrote this before the airing of episode 4x12, so expect it to be different.
It’s here. Their weeding day has finally arrived. Nicole has been smiling her brightest smile all morning. She can’t believe she is finally getting married to the love of her life, her Angel, the Guardian of her heart. Waverly Earp. Her wife. Wow... that sounds so good.
She is all dressed up and almost ready for the ceremony, thanks to Rachel. She is wearing a beautiful maroon suit with a very simple and natural-looking makeup. It was Rachel’s idea, and she absolutely loves the result. As for Waverly, she has Wynonna to help her get ready. Obviously. Part of Nicole wishes she could just peek at them, sure they must be having a lot of fun right now. But she and Waverly agreed their wedding looks should be a surprise, so she is getting ready in the barn, while Waverly is in their room in the Homestead.
“Alright, there you go!” Rachel exclaims when she’s done with Nicole’s hair. “What do you think?”
Rachel curled her beautiful red hair, and clipped it backwards on one side, so that it is falling nicely on her right shoulder.
“Wow...” Nicole stares in awe at her figure in the mirror.
“I know. I’m pretty proud of my work too.” Rachel says with a proud smirk.
Nicole chuckles lightly at that, and then she turns to face her. “Thank you.”
Rachel smiles brightly at her, moving her hand up to fix a lock of Nicole’s hair. “I’m... I’m gonna go check on Waves. See if Wynonna needs any help...”
“Okay.”
When Rachel leaves, Nicole moves to sit on Wynonna’s bed. Closing her eyes, she tries to recall all of the milestones that led them here. Their first meeting at Shorty’s... Waverly Earp smiling at her from her front porch... her heart shattering when Waverly told her they should’ve been just friends, and all its pieces coming back together the minute Waverly kissed her in Nedley’s office... their first time, their big fight, all of the times they’d lost and found each other over the years... her regret of not having said yes right away... her hope slowly fading away in those 18 months alone... what they did on the stairs, and on the kitchen floor, and in the barn this morning... What a ride they had, huh?
That’s what she said. She can imagine Wynonna saying to her. The thought makes her smile. That woman is a real sucker for a dirty joke. And she’s part of their journey too. Who would’ve thought they could become best friends. And yet, here they are. It’s crazy how close they’ve become.
Right as she’s thinking about that, Nicole is brought back to reality by the sound of knocking on the front door. Speaking of the devil...
“May I come in? Please, tell me you’re not naked...” Wynonna asks as she walks in with a hand covering her eyes.
“Actually, I’m lying completely naked on your bed right now.” Nicole jokes.
“I’d rather not think about what you did on my bed this morning...” Wynonna says lowering her hand.
“Excuse me?!” How the hell does she know about their morning... exchange of love.
“Poor innocent Jeremy told me about it. Poor soul, I think you traumatized him for life...” she mocks her.
Nicole shakes her head in disbelief. “Just come here, and sit with me, Earp.” She invites her patting at the space beside her on the mattress.
“Huh uh, no way. I’m never touching that bed again.”
“We didn’t even do it on the bed!” Nicole yells before she can realize what she is actually saying.
“Yep. I’m burning this whole barn to the ground tonight.” Wynonna states in a joking tone before going to sit on the bed near Nicole.
When she was settled, Nicole smiled her beautiful bright smile at her, and Wynonna noticed her eyes were sparkling with tears.
“You okay, Haught?”
“I’m getting married to Waverly Earp today...” she says as if that could answer Wynonna’s question.
“You’d better.”
Nicole chuckles lightly at that, and then she asks: “how is she?”
“She’s ready.” Somehow Wynonna knows exactly what Nicole needed to hear. “Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something” She exclaims a moment later, taking a necklace from her dress, in the space right over her boob. “No pockets.” She explains with a shrug when Nicole laughs lightly at her. Same old Wynonna.
“Please tell me it’s not a boner necklace...” Nicole jokes.
“Damn it! Now I’m mad I didn’t think of that!”
That makes Nicole laugh again. And in that moment, she realizes the tears that once threatened to fall are now completely gone. Wynonna did it again. It crazy how this woman can make it all go away with just one joke.
“But seriously... here.” Wynonna says as she hands over the necklace to Nicole.
Nicole takes it and lays it on the palm of her hand, so she can study the pendant. It’s the shape of a heart, and inside it there are two small figures, two girls sitting on its outline as if the pendant was a swing. On the outline of the heart, then, there are two small inscriptions: always my sister / forever my friend. Nicole reads them, and then turns to look at Wynonna in shock. That’s definitely not the gift she was expecting to get from “miss everything’s a joke to me”.
“Waverly gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, right before I left Purgatory... She wanted me to know that I’d always have a home here if I wanted to come back. I always have it with me. Even if I’m not wearing it. It’s like my lucky charm. Which is kind of stupid considering all the troubles I got in in my life...”
“Wynonna, I...” Nicole’s at a loss of words. No one’s ever given her something that was so special to them.
“You’re gonna be my sister now, right?” she says matter-of-factly, and Nicole can feel herself getting all emotional again.
“I’ve never had a sister…” She states, mimicking what Wynonna had told her a little less than two years ago. I’ve never had a best friend.
“You do now.” Wynonna states in all seriousness as she fights back the tears blurring her eyes. “A pretty messed up one, but...” she starts to joke, but Nicole interrupts her.
“She’s perfect that way.” She says taking hold of Wynonna’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
They stay like that for a moment, neither one breaking the peaceful silence that fell upon them. Nicole can’t take her eyes off the necklace. Waverly gave it to Wynonna, and now Wynonna is giving it to her. It’s not just a promise to be friends and sisters forever, it’s also a way for Wynonna to say “Waverly’s the most precious thing that I have, and now she’s yours to protect and love”. The idea makes her even more emotional, but if she cries now, she’ll ruin all her makeup, and it took Rachel half an hour to put it on. So she takes a deep breath to force back the tears, and then she gets up and turns to face Wynonna.
“Help me put it on?” She asks, holding out the necklace for Wynonna to take.
A tear falls down Wynonna’s cheek as she smiles at her friend. She wipes it away quickly with the back of her hand, and then, she gets up grabbing the necklace. As she is fastening it, they hear a knock on the door. It’s Rachel. In a very Wynonna-fashion she does not wait for an answer before walking in. She is here to let them know everyone’s ready, and they’re just waiting for the two of them. All of a sudden Nicole feels like she can’t breathe. It’s happening. It’s time. OMG. Her heart is racing uncontrollably, and she thinks she might get sick. That, of course, does not go unnoticed on Wynonna, who puts her hand on Nicole’s shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze.
“C’mon, Haught. You’ve waited long enough. Now you get to be happy.” She smiles lovingly at her friend. Best friend. God, she’s so happy for her right now. She finally gets to be happily married to the love of her life. It’s what she deserves.
When she feels Nicole is breathing somewhat steadily again, she offers up her arm for her to lean on as they walk out. With a deep breath, Nicole puts her hand on Wynonna’s arm, and she lets her friend lead her out of the barn, with Rachel in tow. It’s a beautiful sunny day, and she can smell the perfumes of a thousand flowers, and the green grass around the Homestead is glowing bright in the summer sun. Nicole takes a look at the guests waiting for them by their seats. It’s not many people, it’s true, but all the ones who matter are here. Jeremy, Doc, Nedley, Billy, Mercedes… wait. No way! No! She turns towards Wynonna in shock.
“Are you serious right now?!” she exclaims in disbelief.
“Do you know someone else who can officiate your wedding?!”
“Anyone but Bunny!”
“Listen, sheriff, she’s who I found, okay? Do you wanna get married or what?”
“You’re gonna be the death of me, Earp…”
“Oh, please, your life would be so boring without me.”
“I’m marrying your sister, I can think of a few ways to entertain myself…” she objects with a smirk.
Their banter is interrupted by Nedley clearing his throat to get their attention. “Ladies…”
Both turn to look at him. Nicole can instantly feel the tears forming in her eyes. He’s here to walk her down the aisle. This is all surreal. How is this real life? She feels like she’s in a dream.
“Wow… Look at you.” Nedley says in admiration.
“Yeah, you don’t look bad yourself.”
“I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He says in her ear as he brings her in for a tight hug.
Nicole’s been able to hold back the tears so far, but after those words she just can’t. Her parents might not be there to support her, but she has Nedley, and that’s all that matters. She allows one tear to stream down her cheek, but then she collects herself quickly. She can’t cry. Not before the ceremony has even started. Nedley smiles lovingly at her as they let go of each other, and then he holds out his arm for her to lean on. Nicole takes one last look around, and she notices Wynonna is gone. She must’ve gone get Waverly. It’s time. No more waiting. This time it’s for real. Smiling back at Nedley, she puts her hand on his arm, and they start walking towards the others. My God, this is crazy. She thinks as she sees Bunny waving at her happily. Just a perfect Earp-fashion wedding...
As they walk slowly down the aisle, her eyes get wet all over again. She just can’t help it. When she got to Purgatory she was completely alone, and now she’s getting married to the love of her life and she’s got a family who loves and supports her. She is smiling so big right now, she can feel her cheeks beginning to hurt, and just the idea of seeing Waverly makes her hearts burst with joy. She looks at Rachel, her maid of honor, and she feels so proud. The past 19 months weren’t easy for either of them, but they got through. Together. They’ve seen each other at their worst, and now hopefully they’ll get to see each other at their best too. Today a new chapter begins. A better one for sure. No matter what happens next, nothing can be worse than the hopelessness and loneliness she’s felt in those eighteen months alone.
Nicole is brought back from her thoughts when Nedley gives her hand a gentle squeeze. Nicole gives him a sweet kiss on the cheek, and then he moves away to get to his seat. All of a sudden, murmurs fill the air, and she turns to see Waverly and Wynonna walking out of the homestead and towards them. Nicole can feel her heart pounding hard. Wow… Waverly looks so beautiful… She is in a long sleeveless white lace dress. Her hair is tied up on the back of her head, and it has beautiful colorful flowers in it. Her makeup, just like Nicole’s, is very simple, and she is absolutely breathtaking. Nicole can’t help but stare at her in awe as she walks down the aisle leaning on Wynonna’s arm. And the same goes for Waverly as she studies her fiancée’s look. They both look perfect. This is all so perfect.
“Hi” “Hey” They greet each other once they’re standing side by side.
“Haught.” Wynonna says as she lets go of Waverly to embrace Nicole. “You take care of my baby sis, okay?” she whispers in her ear, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Always.”
“You got the girl, Nicole. Now go get your wife.” Wynonna says leaning back and winking at her.
What happens next is a mystery to Nicole and Waverly. All they can focus on is the person standing right in front of them, and it feels like they’re in a bubble, just the two of them. They can barely process what’s going on as Bunny takes the word to let the ceremony begin. They come back to reality when it’s time for them to say their vows.
“Sheriff…” Bunny invites her to go first.
She’s had a hard time in the past few days trying to find the right things to say, but she’s figure it out at last. Although no words could ever fully express how much Waverly Earp really means to her. As she takes Waverly’s hands into her own, she begins.
“Waverly Earp… You are my home, my love, my Angel. You are the oxygen that keeps me breathing, and the light that brightens my days. Being loved by you is by far the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You came into my life at a time when I was lost, and alone, and you turned my world completely upside down. You filled the void in my heart with joy, and laughter, and love. You gave me memories to hold onto, and reasons to fight, and stay. You turned this unfamiliar place into my home, and these strangers into my family, and all of my insecurities into my biggest strengths. You taught me to love myself just as much as I love you, and you showed me perfection where I could only see flaws. You inspire me to be the best version of me, and to always be fighting for what I believe in. You are everything I’ve ever wanted, and so so much more.” She pauses briefly to turn and take the ring from Rachel, and then she continues.
“So today, in front of our friends, and family, I take you, Waverly Earp, to be my wife. I give you this ring as a promise to love you, respect you, cherish you, and support you as my partner, my person, and my equal. And I swear I’ll do my absolute best to make you smile as bright as you do today for the rest of our lives. I vow to be a loving and protective wife, to be open to change, and ready for every challenge that comes our way. And for as long as I live and breathe, I will be by your side. Always your shield, forever your wife.”
Wow... that was a lot. Waverly knows it’s her turn now, but she is so emotional she is afraid she might forget everything that she wanted to say. She looks down at the ring on her finger, and somehow it calms her down. Looking back up into Nicole’s beautiful brown eyes, she knows she just has to speak from her heart, and the right words will come. So she takes a deep breath to steady her voice, and then she begins.
“Nicole Haught... wow, I can’t believe this is actually happening! I’ll never forget the day you walked into Shorty’s with your uniform, and your Stetson in your hands, and confidence for days. I’d been living a life in black and white for so long that I’d forgotten what real happiness felt like. But then you smiled your beautiful bright smile at me, and it all turned into colors. You showed me that it’s okay to be ambitious, and that I should never settle for anything less than what I deserve. You gave me a choice when I thought I had none. In a world of people telling me who to be, you just asked me to be myself. You held me together when my world was falling apart, and you made me feel special, when I didn’t know who I was anymore. You... you, Nicole Haught, are extraordinary. Whenever I’m in a dark place, you light my way back to safety. You are my harbor, my anchor, my rock. I don’t have anything to give you if not unconditional love, and support. And I don’t know what the future will hold for us, but I’m not afraid. Because I know that, whatever comes next, we will face it together. Side by side as it’s always been.” Mimicking Nicole, she pauses briefly to turn and take the ring from Wynonna. And then, she continues.
“Today, I take you to be my wife, on this land that’s always been my home, because you, Nicole Rayleigh Haught, are my home. With this ring, I promise to love you, respect you and support you as my love, my equal, and my partner. I will be your shoulder to cry on, and a rock to lean on. Your number one fan, the reason for your smile, and your light in the darkness. I vow to be a loving and protective wife, to love all of your flaws and imperfections, and to stand by your side for the rest of my life. Always your angel, forever your wife.”
Tears are streaming down their faces by the time Waverly finishes talking. They turn to look at their family, and they are all crying as well. Even Bunny seems to be a little bit emotional when she takes the word to conclude the ceremony.
“Alright then. Let’s make this official!” She exclaims. “By the power vested in me by... Wynonna Earp this morning, I now pronounce you partners for life, wife and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Waverly and Nicole don’t waste a second. Without letting go of each other’s hands, they lean in for their first of many many kisses as wives. It’s just a tender kiss, but it still conveys all the love they have just professed for one another. When they part, Nicole leans down so her forehead is resting on Waverly’s. And as they stay like that for a moment, it seems like everything else disappears, and it’s just the two of them. Their eyes are blurry with tears, and all they can see are the big bright smiles lighting up their faces. This is doubtless the happiest day of their lives. There is so much joy in their hearts right now that it feels as if they might even explode.
“My wife.” Nicole states in a dreaming tone.
“Forever.” Waverly adds.
“I love you, Waverly Earp.”
“And I love you, Nicole Haught.”
None of the rest matters. As long as they have each, there is nothing they can’t overcome. Their love has survived the most impossible situations, and it will last forever. Of that they are sure.
Always your shield, forever your wife.
Always you angel, forever your wife.
#Wynonna Earp#Bring Wynonna Home#wayhaught#wedding#fanfiction#fanfic#love wins#waverly earp#nicole haught
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—
It was a simple platitude, and one he'd heard quite often growing up: "Be ever honest, forthright, and true, and ne'er shall Woedica frown upon you." The rhyme was reductive and childish, but the sentiment was understandable enough– Honesty is a virtue, and one that should serve any good, upright citizen of Aedyr well.
Of course, Aloth knew better.
He'd known better since he was fifteen years old, clutching his face in his hands and choking on his own tears while his mother tried to soothe him, brushing back his smooth, black hair and holding him close, careful to avoid the bruises, all the while imploring him you must never tell a soul of this, Aloth, never, for even I could not help you then. He'd known better after running to the proctor about the incident with the spellwrights gilde and their damned machine, trying to bring it all to light, and instead of finding himself languishing in a dungeon for the atrocity he'd taken part in, he was instructed to continue to meet with them, to keep his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open. No matter the rewards honesty promised, the people in his life always seemed to reinforce the lesson that deception and secrecy were the true keys to success.
Until now. Until her.
Since their very first meeting outside the Black Hound Inn, as far as he could tell– and he considered himself a decent judge of character, most of the time– Axa had not uttered a single lie to anyone she'd spoken with, had not suppressed nor sugarcoated a single truth, no matter how painful. The closest she'd gotten to lying was her reluctance to discuss the chain of events that had lead her to relocate to the Dyrwood, and even that had come out eventually, and entirely of her own volition. In fact, she seemed to not only practice honesty in her words and her deeds, but to relentlessly pursue the truth, to champion it, to draw it out of others like venom from a wound and leave both parties happier for it. Hel, she'd even managed to get him to open up.
How did she make it look so easy?
Practice, I reck'n. Isnae easy fer ye, tellin' sooth, coz yer nae accustomed to it, are ye, lad? Iselmyr's unwanted commentary was almost constant, now, and Aloth could not tell whether it was due to his control over himself deteriorating further, or if she had simply been emboldened by their secret finally being out after all these years. Either way, it was wearing on his nerves, and he worried that it was starting to show. It certainly didn't help that the others were as curious about Iselmyr as he was eager to be rid of her, and only about half of them seemed to possess the decorum to recognize his discomfort and drop it. Even Axa had asked if it were possible for her to speak directly to the horrid little pest, although to her credit she'd only had to be told "no" once, unlike Edér and Kana who seemingly only deigned to speak with him in order to badger him about his "friend," trying to trade jokes with her or learn Hylspeak from her or– Berath take him– flirt with her.
"Jealous," she'd smirked, and Aloth had gone bright red when Edér had laughed in response, only then realizing that she'd made him say it out loud.
Am only out 'n' jawin' wie kith cozza yer wee burd, laddie. If ye've aught t' complain about, tell it t' her. As much as he hated to agree with Iselmyr, he had to admit that she had a point– if he'd been left to his own devices, he might never have told anyone about his Awakening and simply lived his whole life suffering in silence. But since he'd started following Axa, talking with her, fighting alongside her, earning her trust and starting to trust her in return, he'd found that opening up about himself– and Iselmyr– was far easier than he'd ever expected it would be. The clever little woman had had him halfway figured out by the time he finally told her anyway, which had certainly helped speed things along. She had even suggested a method by which he might finally learn more about his condition, although the thought of letting some jackleg animancer strap him to a table (don't think about the spellwrights the experiment don't think about Targun his eyes empty and lifeless and dull don't think about it don't) and peer into his soul made his skin crawl.
But it didn't seem quite so dismaying when he reminded himself that she'd be there with him.
The events of the day thus far had only served to reinforce this notion. She'd broached the topic over breakfast, suggesting that after they finish their business with the Knights, they make the sanitarium their very next stop of the day– "May as well get it over with, right?"– but he had deflected and redirected, stating that he'd hoped to read up on animancy a bit more before making the plunge– "After all, I've waited fifty years, I can wait a few more hours"– while reminding her that she had expressed a desire to parley with the Eyeless Face sometime soon. A little nudge in the right direction was all it had taken for Kana to commandeer the conversation, excitedly gushing about banned books and Waelite secrets, and Aloth had sighed with relief even as he'd winced at the knowing look Sagani had given him. But Axa had not seen fit to press the matter, and so they'd agreed on their plans and headed for Crucible Keep, turning over the research for their new Forge Knights without any issues.
And upon arriving at the Hall of Revealed Mysteries, the distractions had quickly accumulated, as they tended to do. The forgemaster at the Keep had done little to assuage his worries about animancy in general, and every book about animancy he'd half-heartedly attempted to peruse only ended up making him more anxious, so instead he'd spent most of his time leafing through old favorites, comforting himself with the certainties of the classics, repetitively tracing his slender fingers over ancient runes in arcane treatises he'd practically memorized years ago during his training. It was a surefire method of calming himself down, helping him to collect his thoughts– or it would have been if he hadn't been continually interrupted by Iselmyr's whining, Edér's yawning, Kana's incessant attempts to "help" him with his research.
Aloth had just suffered yet another of these intrusions (Kana had jokingly shoved a primer on orlan physiology and anatomy under his nose, opened to a page with some... detailed illustrations) when the messenger from the palace had arrived, summoning Axa to court. He'd have been pleased for such a convenient excuse to continue the deferral of their visit to the sanitarium, but the scene at the Hall of Records had been far from a pleasant one.
"This is she?" Arledr Gathbin had glared down at the little woman, naked contempt on his sneering face. "This little varlet, she's the one who murdered my kin and now clings like a leech to my ancestral land? I'd thought she was just some servant, a wench from the scullery."
"This wench," Axa had snapped back, "claimed that land– a keep abandoned by your noble line for well over a hundred years, I'll remind you– by strength of arms, and with the assistance of the few good men and women standing alongside me." Sagani and Pallegina had blinked in surprise at her words, but raised no objection. "And in any case, I didn't see your name on the door."
Gathbin had reared back as though she'd spat at him. "Never speak to me so brazenly again, cur," he'd hissed, "or you won't have time enough left in your miserable life to regret it."
Chancellor Warrin had been quick to bring the meeting back to order, but the calm had not lasted long. Upon learning that Caed Nua would only be his upon the condition that he pay reparations to Axa for services rendered in recovering it, Gathbin had flown into an even greater rage, going so far as to raise his hand to the Chancellor. And although he had effectively just declared Axa homeless, she had still leapt between the two men to defend the Chancellor, her eyes blazing as she'd roared at Gathbin to stay his hand.
"You dare to issue orders to me, you hairy little wretch!?" He'd whirled on her, his face beet red, and the captain of his personal guard, a sharp-featured elf in gleaming black plate, had grinned eagerly as her hand flew to her pistol. Aloth had been surprised to suddenly feel the spine of his grimoire under his fingertips, his heart racing. And he hadn't been alone: all of Axa's allies had prepared to draw arms as well, Pallegina's blade already halfway out of its scabbard by the time Marshall Forwyn had stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his weapon, calmly but firmly suggesting that Gathbin contain himself.
After Gathbin had stormed off, after the dust had settled and Axa was officially declared thaynu and roadwarden of Caed Nua, she'd still had enough composure to ask the Chancellor to invite his lordship to settle their differences over dinner sometime– in her halls at Caed Nua, of course– before immediately turning to the record keeper who'd seen it all and asking him if she was now "established" enough to access the records from the Saint's War she'd inquired after previously. Edér's eyes had gone wide, his jaw rigid with apprehension as he'd accepted his prize at last, and as he'd flipped anxiously through the casualty listings, Aloth had mused on the little woman's fortitude, her quick wit, the loyalty she inspired in those who followed her.
And that loyalty was not misplaced. Even now as he struggled to gather the resolve to say what he needed to say, he couldn't stop thinking of the lost, haunted expression on Edér's face as he'd found his brother's name, looked up into Axa's eyes, asked her as though she'd known all along: "Why'd he fight for Readceras?" She hadn't hesitated for even a second when he'd beseeched her to go with him to the battlefield where Woden had died, laying her small, fuzzy hand on the blond man's shoulder and assuring him she'd do whatever it took to give him peace of mind.
Be ever forthright, honest, and true–
Maybe it was bearing witness to all that– her ironclad resolve in the face of a daunting foe, her powerful devotion to those who placed their trust in her– that made Aloth face Axa now, standing outside the Ducal Palace, and tell her he was ready to head for the sanitarium. "If you're still amenable, of course," he added quickly. If you'll help me stay strong enough to see it through, he thought.
If ye'll held me haund, kiss me wee arse–
She blinked in surprise, recovered, smiled warmly at him. "Of course," she replied. "We can go there now. As long as you're comfortable with the idea."
"Oh," he sighed, smiling pleasantly, "I'm not, no. But to be frank, I'll almost certainly never be more comfortable with the idea than I am right now, so honestly, it's now or never. I'm... simply choosing now."
"I can get behind that," she nodded, turning to the road before them. "Shall we, then?"
She lead, and he followed, desperately hoping he wasn't making a mistake.
—
#pillars of eternity#poe anthem infinitum#fic wip#kana: just admits to himself he has a crush on axa#aloth: does this instead#next up: super fun times at the fantasy psychiatrist's office!#thanks for reading ♡
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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-10)
Word count: 5.2K
Pairing: Sam X Reader AU
Warnings: Implied smut, fluff :)
Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.
A/N: No angst again! And good stuff. I am being very nice these days ;)
The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)
Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Athina, you’re a goddess <3
A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist
10th September 2008
You woke up to something soft tickling your face, almost feather light and pleasant. Opening your eyes, you found Sam’s arms wrapped around you, nestling you in them. A glowing warmth spread through your body as you remembered last night, his lips on your skin, and the feel of his hot breath on your face. The way he had called out for you was enough to raise goosebumps on your skin now. And he’d said he loved you. Your heart thrummed in your chest at the memory.
Slowly, you removed his arm from over your body and slipped out of bed. You wanted to kiss him on his forehead or the point of his nose but Sam looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to wake him up.
You pulled over the T-shirt and the boxers Sam had lent you last night and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to skip dinner after a morning of hangover because your stomach was churning weirdly.
Would everything be different now? After last night. You felt like your heart would burst from all the love you were feeling. Without giving the task at hand much thought, you fried some eggs, toasted the bread and put the coffee pot on a boil, wondering what Sam had for breakfast.
With an excitement that you had never felt before, you carried the tray laden with food upstairs, wondering how to wake Sam up. As it turned out, Sam was already sitting up, a confused expression on his face. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the sight of his naked torso made your face feel hot. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, a smile replacing the frown.
“Here you go,” you said, placing the tray before him and then joining him on the bed.
His eyes softened. “You didn’t need to,” he said, gesturing towards the food. “Not seeing you here, I was starting to worry that last night had been a dream.”
“Only the best dream of my life,” you muttered, pouring his coffee. “Black with half spoon sugar. Just like you have it.”
Sam was still stuck on your words. He took the cup from your hands and placed it back on the tray, then pulled you to him. “That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a dream. Even if it was the best dream ever. All dreams, even the best ones end when you wake up. But with you… I don’t ever want this to end.”
You reached out and kissed him. At first he was surprised, then he leaned into it. Kissing Sam was like a breath of fresh air for your soul. If it was left to you, you would spend an obscene amount of time kissing him.
“This is one way to start the day,” he chuckled.
“Mhmmm…” you sighed, handing him the coffee and starting on the eggs.
“Funny that Jo didn’t turn the place upside down looking for me,” you wondered idly. You should have told her where you were last night.
“I called her when you got here,” Sam said. “When er… when you were having a bath.”
Sam was always so thoughtful. Last night it hadn’t even occurred to you to let Jo know, about the acceptance or the fact that you were here, and you weren’t particularly proud of it. Absentmindedly, you scooted closer to Sam and like it was the most natural thing to do, he put his arm around you. The heat coming of his skin and his scent was so comforting, you all but melted against his side. A girl could get used to this.
“Hey,” Sam nudged you with his lips pressed in your hair. “You know that NC Central is only a seven hour drive from New York, right?”
Of course you knew that. It was a great school, but it was also on the East coast, where Sam would be. You nodded against his neck, lightly tracing the hard lines of his stomach.
“I could drive over the weekends to see you.” There was hope in his voice.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled at the thought of it all. A new school, a new life with Sam in it. You thought of happy weekends and flinging yourself into his arms whenever you saw him. You pictured his wide smiles, and the joy in his eyes when he saw you. “I could hop on a bus on Friday night and be there in New York in the morning. You’d show me around, wouldn’t you? I’ve never been to such a big city.”
“You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never wanted that job more than now. Hell, I’d throw myself into preparing for the bar, if it keeps us that close now.”
“Mhmm.” You huddled closer to him.
“What’re you thinking?”
“About how I’m going to afford this,” you said. “NC central isn’t that expensive, but it’s still a lot considering I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t want to sell off Gran’s house.”
“You want to make it into a bakery, I remember,” he said, gently, then added hesitantly. “Maybe I could-”
“No!” You sat up straight. “Absolutely not. I can’t ask this from you.” You hurried to explain, seeing the slightly hurt expression on his face. “This isn’t about you in any way. It’s very kind of you to offer, it really is. But I want to do this by myself. I’ll apply for a student’s loan. Like I said, the money isn’t an impossible sum. I just need a guarantor to vouch for me at the bank. I don’t want to ask aunt El cause I know she had some bank problems with the diner. She doesn’t trust them very much.”
Sam looked thoughtful.
“What’re you thinking?” You asked suspiciously. “Don’t think about volunteering.”
His finger was drawing a pattern on your shoulder as he licked his lips. “You know I can’t. I don’t own any property myself. You should ask Dean, though.”
“Dean?” You looked up at him surprised. “Why would he?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Sam countered. “He might not show it, but he does like you. You’re not asking him to pay for your college, you’re just asking him to be a guarantor. He has great credit, the bank won’t refuse that. It’s not like you’re going to dupe him. I know my brother. Trust me, he’ll be happy to help you.”
When you still looked surprised, Sam took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t overthink this. You said you wanted to do this by yourself, so you bring it up with him. I promise I won’t say a word.”
“You’re awesome. You know that, right?”
He winked. “I don’t know about that. But I’m sure happy you think that!”
You removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the side table, then moved over to straddle Sam, hands placed on either side of his face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
In a quick moment, Sam flipped you, so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering over you. He dipped down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then whisper against your skin. “The pleasure is all mine.”
***************************************
“You know, if you keep bouncing on the balls of your feet like that,” Meg said drowsily from the table, where she sat flipping through a magazine, “I’m going to side with Kevin on this. You’re hiding something.”
You put your lunch in the bag, wondering just how to tell her. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your history from your roommate. There was just so much of it, you had no idea where to start. For now, you just settled for, “There’s this professor. I thought he was mad at me. Turns out he isn’t.”
“Wow. It doesn’t take much to get you all chirpy.”
Just the feeling of six years worth of hell coming to an end.
“Ready to go?” You asked and Meg jumped down from the high stool.
“Yep.”
“Is this the same good looking professor?” She asked out the blue as you reached the campus gates.
“How do you know about the good looking professor?” You narrowed your eyes. You had mentioned Sam only to one person in the apartment.
Meg looked taken aback for a second, then said nonchalantly. “Cas told me.”
“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Try as you may, you couldn’t keep the sly tone out of your voice completely.
Meg changed the topic smoothly, but not before you saw the faint blush on her cheeks.
Meg blushing? Speak of novelty.
She waved you a goodbye at the entrance of the law building, heading north to the Physics department. Wondering if anyone else in the apartment had noticed, you entered the class for your first lecture.
Professor Mills was in a great mood today, and she encouraged a debate on whether Legal writing and its syntax should affect how seriously the core content of any litigation is treated. You firmly believed that poor syntax should in no way undermine the severity of any litigation, and made your points with citation. The opposite team consisting of Brad and everyone in Madison’s group tried to put up a strong fight, but you knew you had the moral high ground on that one. Maddy was smiling by the end of it, but the expression on the other’s faces ranged from disappointment to disgust.
Professor Mills mentioned you by your name at the end of the class, lauding you for your points. It was enough to give you the high of the day. You simply loved her.
As the college day neared its end, you were excited for Civil Procedures, excited to see Sam again. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore you now. Maybe he’d actually look at you and smile. Your eyes were eagerly glued to the door, waiting for him while everyone chattered in the background.
It wasn’t Sam who came in. Instead, the TA Paul announced that the lecture has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. Professor Winchester would take double lectures in the following week to cover it up.
“Well, dang it!” Meredith cursed. “After that horrible debate, I was looking forward to seeing that chiseled face.”
“You aren’t the only one who’s disappointed,” Lacey said slyly. “Y/N looks like someone kicked her puppy.”
You schooled your expressions immediately.
Madison rolled her eyes. “Everyone was looking forward to it. Maybe he has something important. Remember he ditched Thursday, Friday on our first week, too.”
“Maybe he’s just playing hooky with his girlfriend,” Rebecca shrugged. You had a maddening urge to slap her. It wasn’t fair to direct all your anger at her; you knew that. However, listening to her words, evaporated the high you had been feeling completely.
How naive of you to think that one small conversation could make everything okay. Maybe he went back home and changed his mind, had seen that the exchange was a lapse in his judgement. Your stomach dropped at that thought. Why did he have to show you a moment of softness, if he was just going to take it all away? It would have been better then, had he continued to ignore your existence. You had been making your peace with it. You didn’t think you had it in you to take one more hit after feeling hope, at last.
Morosely, you started picking up your things.
“Y/N. Don’t forget about the party, tomorrow.”
Madison was looking at you with wide eyes.
You opened your mouth to make up a reason. She cut you off-
“Look, I checked your schedule. You’re not working this weekend. This is your last working day for the week. I’ve made all the reservations and counted you in.”
“Maddie-”
Her brow furrowed. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you? The drinks are on me.”
Looking at her, you just couldn't say no.
“I was gonna say that I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Yay!” She shot out of her chair and flung her arms around you. Surprised, you put your hand against her back.
“Told you she’d come,” Madison told her friends. Lacey gave you a smile, Meredith looked disinterested and Rebecca had her back turned to you completely. That summed it up accurately. For the umpteeth time you wondered how their group functioned at all.
Brad, who had been lingering at the table with his guy friends, gave you a smirk.
“Miss Y/L/N finally gracing us with her presence?”
“Oh, butt out, Brad,” Madison shoved him. “If you keep acting like a dick, she might change her mind.”
“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we,” he said under his breath.
You didn’t want any more of their company than what was absolutely required, so you said your goodbye to Madison and left the lecture hall for the day. With your sulky attitude, returning to the apartment wasn’t an option in case you ran into someone. Those guys were very perceptive and you didn’t want to lie to them anymore.
After wandering aimlessly underneath the pergolas of the Quadrangle, you headed to the library. It was about two in the afternoon; four more hours and it would be your shift anyway.
You decided to have your lunch in the closed quarters of the librarian’s room. There wasn’t much to the room except a makeshift bed, a table, chair and a coffee machine. You could sit there and catch up with the essays after lunch.
The on shift librarian wasn’t Molly today, but this other odd hours guy. She was hovering over him, giving instructions. When she saw you, she ushered you to the side. “It’s his first time. I’m training him for the weekend.”
“Oh.” You looked over at the guy. He was clearly an anxious wreck. You felt bad for him.
“Hey listen,” you said, “Is it okay if I use the librarian’s room? I haven’t had lunch and I don’t want to go to the eateries or the mess.”
She gave you a guilty look. “The room is kinda sorta… ocupado.”
“What?”
“See for yourself.” She took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the room in question.
The door was almost closed, save for a small slit. Through it, you could see Sam sitting on the table, multiple books and files scattered around him. He was absolutely absorbed in whatever he was doing, forehead lined in concentration.
“What the-”
Molly shushed you. “Look, I know this looks weird, but he’s in the middle of something. They convicted one of his key clients, and he said he needed some place quiet to figure this out.”
“What about his firm?” You asked the obvious question.
“Client’s not from SF. He’s from LA. Heading to Acton Gris would be going in the opposite direction.”
“Then what about his office here?” You were so surprised that the questions just flowed out of your mouth.
Molly gave an exasperated sigh. “Students. They keep knocking on the door.” She gave you a desperate look. “Please Y/N, let him be. He’s really worked up about it.”
“Yeah, of course,” you assured her.
She looked grateful. “This isn’t conventional, but he’s one of the good folks around here. I knew him from the alumni fraternity before he started teaching here. In fact, he recommended me for my internship at the LA firm he was working in then.”
That explained why she called him by his first name. She was preaching to the choir about how good Sam was though.
“That’s all fine,” you said. “Just let me know if there’s any way I can help.”
“Molly?”
Both of you jumped at the sound of his voice.
“Molly?” He asked again. “Is that you?”
She pushed the door open.
“Yeah it’s me.” She looked at you. “And this is Y/N. You remember her from the other day, don’t you?”
He smiled at you. It was a tired smile, but it held the mischief of a secret only the two of you knew.
“I remember her,” he said dryly.
All the distress and world ending angst you had been feeling since the class vanished into thin air.
“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said quickly. “I just came in to check if I could have lunch here. Clearly you are busy working, so I’m just going to go now.”
“You’re not disturbing,” he said firmly. “I’ll clear the table. You can have lunch here.”
“No- no,” you backed off. “Seriously. I can go to the mess.”
“Y/N.” He looked beyond exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. Even his words were heavy. “C’mon, in. At least sit on the bed.”
Molly poked you in the back from behind and you stumbled inside.
The room was a mess. There were papers everywhere. Sam was one of the most organised people you knew. If there was that much mess around him, either he had changed drastically in the years or this was really a disaster situation.
“Tell me if I can help you with anything.” The words were out before you could even think them through.
He rubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”
You didn’t know if this fell in line with proper etiquette of how one should converse with a professor, but this was Sam, and he looked ready to drop. To hell with etiquette. You were going to do whatever you could to help.
Behind you, Molly had disappeared back into the library.
He paused, considering your words, then sighed. “Even if you wanted to, this is too much to explain.”
You flung your bag on the bed and rolled up the sleeves of your sweater. “I’ve worked as a paralegal for an asshole boss. I think I can keep up.”
Sam gave you a look that was halfway between impressed and surprised.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that you almost missed it. “Alright, here’s the details of the case-”
You listened attentively as he quickly briefed you about this teenage boy, James Feller, who had been arrested for grand auto theft about four years back. The boy testified against the gang, cut a deal with the DA and walked. Now he had been arrested again, and after being let out, jumped the bail. Sam had until tomorrow to fix it or this kid was spending a long, long time in jail. Sam was sure that James hadn’t done it. He had some grabs from CCTV footage to prove his alibi. It only needed to be put together. He might be completely innocent when it came to the theft, but there was still the bail issue to take care of.
“Right, I’ll go through the log to see if there’s anything similar where an underage defendant jumped bail and got out of prison under the jurisdiction of LA,” you said.
“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said, astonished again.
You shrugged and pulled out your laptop, signing into the library’s archival server with your password. There were a couple of cases that could be cited in context to Sam’s case. You pulled out the soft copies of the litigations and highlighted the relevant extracts.
“You guys need anything?” Molly was standing at the door. She had her bag on her shoulder. You looked at the clock. It was already six, time for your shift to begin. Where had the time gone?
“We’re good,” Sam said.
“Seriously? You guys don’t need anything? Not even coffee?” She came to stand by the coffee machine. “I’m making a cup for myself anyway.”
You gave in. “I’d like a cup. Thanks, Molly.”
“One for me, too,” Sam caved, too.
“You guys look intense working like that,” she said, filling the pot with water. “Are you making any headway?”
“Y/N found some useful citations.” Sam closed the heavy book before him and leaned back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt. The coat had been hung over the back of his chair since long before. You tried not to look at him too much.
“Good on you, Y/N!” Molly said, pulling on three mugs. “How do you have your coffee?”
“Little milk and one spoon sugar,” you said politely.
“Sam?”
There was no response. You looked to see that he was busy with his phone, having not heard a single word of it.
“Let it be,” you suggested, seeing as Molly was shuffling the strap of her bag. “You go on. I’ll manage the coffee.”
“You’re a lovely person!” She noted with just a hint of surprise, then blew you a kiss. “See you later, Chica bonita.”
You poured coffee for him, black with half spoon of sugar, stirred it and carefully handed it to him. He took it gratefully, holding out two fingers as he talked over the phone.
You grabbed your mug and went back to your laptop. It appeared that Sam was talking to a colleague explaining the things he needed to get ready. He took a sip of the coffee and stopped mid sentence, looking at you over his screen in wonderment.
“Chase, I’ll call you back in a minute.”
You had gathered your stuff in one hand.
“Y/N?” Sam interrupted you, voice oddly tender. “You remembered.”
He was holding his mug out. The warm vapours were slightly fogging his glasses.
“Of course I remember.”
There was no way you would forget.
He saw your things wrapped in your hand and the bag slung over your shoulder.
“You’re leaving?” Disappointment clear in his tone.
You shook your head. “I’m just going outside at the desk. It’s my shift now. I’ll continue tagging relevant extracts and have three sets of printouts ready for you. You’ll let me know if you need more time? I can keep the library running all night.”
“You’re the power wielding person here, aren’t you?”
“Sure am,” you grinned. “I’ll leave you it.”
Once outside, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Being around Sam made you conscious of every little thing… enough to drive you crazy. Maybe it was a good thing that you were going to the party tomorrow. You needed a drink. That thought inadvertently reminded you of Jo- the only sister you’d ever had. If she were here, she would have told you to go for it despite knowing how insane drunk Y/N was and wreck you would be the next day. The memory of her also made you sad, the missing was gut wrenching sometimes. You almost turned on your heel and headed by inside to ask Sam about Jo and about Dean. Were they still together? Did the diner ever get out of the bumpy patch? How was aunt El doing?
Did they hate you for leaving like that?
That thought brought you up short. You didn’t want to know the answer to that question. There was a small hope within you. If Sam of all people could find it in himself to be civil with you, maybe they would, too. Broaching the topic now would be disastrous. It wouldn’t help Sam right now to lose concentration. Hell, he might do a 180 and suddenly remember that he didn’t like you.
You got back to your desk, filing the cards out for the day before getting to Sam’s paperwork. Though it was a manual job, you did it with utmost concentration, knowing how chaotic courtrooms got and how crucial it was to find the right evidence at the right time. Alongside, you carefully read the suit and arranged the stacks according to the order in which they were needed.
“You know, if you kept going at it like that, you’ll have to represent the boy tomorrow.”
You looked up and your breath hitched. Sam stood before you, his shirt partially untucked and sleeves rolled all the way up till his elbows. The tie was gone and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was a glint of silver against his neck, a thin chain. You wondered where it had come from absently. Without the glasses, and his hair slightly dishevelled, you could see some of the guy you had first fallen in love with.
You looked away quickly, blinking several times, then pushed the stack of printouts towards him. All three copies, arranged as per the appearances of the evidence in the suit papers. The affidavits are all the bottom, along with the supplementary copies.
“You should come down to the office and train my assistant,” he said, leaning over the table so that his elbow rested on top. “He can’t find one paper on time.”
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.
“Aren’t you having dinner?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was nervous.
“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was already so full of butterflies, you didn’t think any food could go in.
“I’m already feeling terrible that you’re helping me with this… please don’t skip dinner for it.” There was something about his voice that affected your soul. The sound of his words were different from everyone elses. All words felt kinder, lovelier when he said them.
“Why are you fighting for this kid?” The words slipped past you before you could stop them. You had been wondering this all evening. “I saw the papers. You’re doing this pro bono and not for Acton Gris. This is your own case.”
He didn’t reply immediately and his face had a far away look. When he finally spoke, it was in a reminiscing tone. “I met James when he was a foster kid a few years ago. He got pushed into the racket because of bad influence. When I saw him at the retention centre, he broke down completely. They were blackmailing him by threatening to hurt his little sister. When he first got off, he looked at me like I was some kind of miracle.” Sam’s face had an awed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could think that of him.
“I knew he wouldn’t get into this again. He’s in college now and has basically turned his life around. We have enough evidence to pin a gang member down for framing him. I don’t want anyone at Acton Gris to help me on this because this is my own case. Putting some poor junior on it is just abusing my power.”
He was a good man. That in itself didn’t surprise you because you had always known it. What surprised you was that he had remained one. Sam used to be starry eyed with ambitions and full of a thirst to do the right thing. He had been so idealistic. It worried you that one day he would wake up and see that the world was an even worse place than what he thought it to be. You worried that the ruthless profession might kill some of the inherent goodness in him. After having lost just as much as you, he hadn’t lost faith in the world. He had remained good.
“What?” He questioned and you realised you were staring.
“There you are!”
Jody Mills stood behind Sam, a harried expression on her face. He straightened up immediately and it occurred to you how close your faces had been.
“I went to your house, called up your PA, and here you are.”
“Jody?” He clearly hadn’t expected her.
She handed him the bag she was carrying. “I have dinner for you. I knew you would bury yourself in the case and wouldn’t cook since you’re by yourself now.”
Now. What did that mean? Lacey’s remark about Sam living in family quarters and having a girlfriend came to your mind. You dismissed it quickly.
“Didn’t see you there, Y/N,” Professor Mills came around. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Actually I just started a week ago.”
Her eyes flitted to the stack in front of you. “And what’s this?”
“Y/N’s been helping me with some printing,” Sam said.
Professor Mills gave him a once over. “Sam Winchester making students work?”
“It’s not like that,” you defended quickly. “I offered to help S- Mr. Winchester. I have some experience as a paralegal and this was only a matter of making copies.”
“You did a lot more than that,” Sam corrected smoothly.
“I was only joking.” she placed a hand on Sam’s arm and you noted that they were probably closer than just colleagues. Friends even. “You, on the other hand, keep surprising me, Y/N. This looks like solid work.”
You blushed at the compliment, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam gazed down at you oddly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have misinterpreted it as a hint of pride.
“You have your food!” Jody ordered him and waved at you. “See you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”
“Good night,” you wished her.
Before leaving, she glanced from you to Sam and back again, a peculiar look in her eyes, shook her head and left.
She had packed a burger and pack of oily fries for Sam. You saw his brow furrow at the sight of it and smiled to yourself. Some things never changed.
Sam insisted that you have your dinner, too. However, you made sure that while he sat inside, you had your dinner at your desk. There was only so much of his nearness you could take without having your feelings run wild. Sam needed to go through the case files in peace for the court tomorrow. You let him be, only visiting the librarian’s room once to let him know that you wouldn’t shut the library at all. He was grateful for it. After everyone else had left, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders and put your head down against the wooden desk. Closing your tired eyes just for a second, you let yourself reflect on everything that had happened today and how one day could be more impactful than a month of one's life sometimes.
You woke up several hours later. Grey light was starting to filter from the high windows. It was early dawn.
Hurriedly you got up to check on Sam, but the librarian’s room was closed from the outside, you checked in the seating area, too. There was no one there; you were by yourself in the room.
Back to your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper placed under your paperweight.
It said-
Y/N,
I have to start from here now to make it to LA in time for the hearing. Didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I can’t thank you enough for your invaluable help.
Regards,
Sam.
You clutched the paper tightly in your fingers, crumpling it in the process. Sometimes a few words were louder than a speech. Sometimes the gesture was even louder.
***************************************
A/N 2: You guys! THEY TALKED! I know a lot of you have been like ‘They just need to talk’ and well, it happened. So what do you think? Uphill?
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#sam winchester x reader fluff#sam winchester reader insert#sam winchester x reader#lawyer!Sam#professor!Sam#reader x sam#sam winchester AU#allu10#Ana writes ALLU#anawrites#anawritesspn#q
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Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 14
Esme whimpered as her fifth and final Alpha took her for that evening.
David’s cock was thrusting into her roughly on the sofa, his balls slapping against her with every thrust. He was snarling and growling above her, now and then he leaned down to suck and nibble on her neck.
She squeezed Tom’s hands when David thrust deep into her, stilling, so his knot could start to swell within her to lock them together.
‘That’s a good girl.’ Tom purred. He had her head on his lap while he held her hands, reassuring her as each of the four Alphas took their turn with her after Tom having her first.
It was well into the evening because of how long it was taking their knots to go down. But they each made sure they got deep, hoping that their sperm would be the one to reach her eggs. Not that they would ever know who’s won anyway in the end.
She felt well used, her cunt was dripping wet from their sperm and her own arousal. David slipped his hands down under her bum and he raised her up against him more, lodging his cock a bit further into her.
Esme whimpered as his knot throbbed against her g-spot, making her cum around him multiple times, milking everything out of him.
‘How does she feel?’ Tom asked David.
‘Fucking amazing.’ David panted, his mind had shut down and he could barely think straight.
Tom chuckled and let go of one of her hands so he could smooth her hair back from her sweaty forehead, smiling sweetly down at her.
He had hardened too, and since he was still naked his cock was now standing up and proud. Something she had been trying to ignore, which wasn’t easy considering its magnificent presence was right against her cheek.
Tom gently took hold of her hair and turned her face in towards his cock, brushing against her lips.
‘Open your mouth for me, lovely.’ He demanded softly.
She parted her lips and started suckling on his cock, he lifted her head up further so she could get his tip into her mouth.
‘Ohhh that’s a good girl.’ Tom purred, his eyes fluttering as her warm mouth took him in.
He had her suck him softly until David was finished and pulled out from her, then Tom took another turn. He propped her head up with a cushion before taking his rightful place between her open legs. She didn’t put up a fuss when he pushed into her again, she preferred that to sucking him anyway.
When Tom was finished with her, she was completely exhausted. She couldn’t even move. Tom gathered her legs together and lifted them up high, lifting her hips up enough so any sperm would remain deep inside her.
He kept her like that for a while, but she was too tired to even care or feel embarrassed about it.
Ben came and carried her through to bed once Tom had deemed it ok to do so. Instead of washing her in the bath, he lay her down on the bed with a towel under her and got a washcloth and basin to clean her up on the outside. He wasn’t going to interfere on the inside yet, give all the sperm time to do its magic.
‘I… I don’t know how much I can take.’ She said quietly, trying not to cry as she curled up into a ball on her side once Ben was finished with her.
Ben moved up the bed and sat down, stroking her hair. ‘Ooooh, sweetie. This is just the start… Hmm? Wait until you come into heat soon, then you will be the one that can’t keep your hands off of us.’ Ben chuckled softly.
He smoothed his hand down her side. ‘Do you not enjoy it, the orgasms we bring you? It certainly feels like you do when you cum all over our cocks.’ He smirked at the way she blushed.
‘It… it’s tiring. All of it.’ She whispered.
‘Shhh, shhh. Have some rest now. Let your body do its thing.’ He cooed and pulled the blanket up over her.
Esme snuggled down and closed her eyes, but she heard Ben leaving the room before she drifted off to sleep. She was rather glad in a way, to get some peace alone to sleep.
-
Ben went to join the other Alphas for a beer. They’d all put on trousers to cover up a bit. Now the testosterone had calmed and they’d all had their fill of their omega.
‘She’s a free for all now we’ve all had our fair share of her.’ Tom said as he swigged down his beer. ‘When she comes into heat, she will likely be on us all the time anyway. We might need to up the ante a bit to tire her out.’ He chuckled. ‘Just no more fighting on front of her. Share her and play nicely, but don’t hurt her unless it’s a punishment.’
The rest of them murmured in agreement.
‘I’d be surprised if she’s not pregnant already after all that.’ David said.
‘I certainly hope so. We have a waiting list of buyers already.’ Michael said as he flicked through the channels on TV.
‘Will you just pick something.’ Ben grumbled.
‘Do we really have a waiting list?’ Chris looked to Tom.
‘We certainly do. Our little omega is going to need to be continuously pregnant to keep up with demand.’ Tom chuckled. ‘So you boys better not ware yourselves out too quickly making the first one.’
‘Never mind making babies, I am going to have a lot of fun with our omega.’ David grinned.
-
All five Alphas crawled into the large bed with Esme that night once they went to bed. She stirred slightly when David wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him in the middle of the bed, Chris snuggled up at her front, draping his arm over her.
Tom, Michael and Ben had to make do with not getting close to her for the night. But they decided they would all take turns, make sure they all got a chance to sleep right next to her at nights.
During the night, Esme woke up needing the toilet. But she had five Alphas to get away from.
First, she had to squirm out of David’s tight grip, he was hugging her close like a bear. She managed to get Chris’ arm off her too, draping it over David instead. David then put his arms around Chris, thinking it was Esme.
She then had to climb over Tom, which felt like she was going to have to climb over a lion. She was starting to think she should’ve gone the other way, climbing over Michael and Ben instead.
Esme had her hands and upper body over Tom, she was just swinging her leg over him when he suddenly grabbed her. She let out a shriek as he pinned her down beneath him, he chuckled.
‘Where do you think you’re going, little omega?’ He hummed, trailing his fingers down the side of her face.
‘Just the bathroom.’ She said quietly.
‘Hmmm, be quick.’ Tom moved to the side, allowing her to slip out of bed.
When she returned, Tom was sitting up on the side of the bed. He motioned her to him, when she walked over and was within reach, he opened his legs and pulled her between them. He slipped his arms around her and grinned.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any words out, they were disturbed. David and Chris yelled when they woke and saw they were snuggling one another. Chris pushed David away from him, who knocked into Michael who then knocked into Ben as a chain reaction, poor Ben fell out of bed and to the floor with a thud.
Tom threw his head back with laughter and even Esme started laughing, seeing it all happen over Tom’s shoulder.
‘You idiots... Get used to it, I am not getting a bigger bed.’ Tom grumbled, shaking his head.
Ben grumbled in annoyance and smacked Michael when he clambered back onto the bed. ‘Wasn’t my fault.’ Michael huffed.
‘Everyone back to sleep. It’s only two.’ Tom growled and wrapped his arms tightly around Esme as he lay down, rolling her over so she was between him and Chris this time.
Esme was just getting settled when she felt Tom’s hands starting to wander. One hand slipped under her nightgown and he trailed right up, to gently massage at her breasts. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and growled low.
‘Soon you will be ripe with our child… and these, will be full for us to have so much fun with.’ He whispered, his thumb brushing across her nipple that made her whine.
She tried squirming and pushing his hand away, but he didn’t budge. He fell asleep groping her breast, so she had to make do with it as she fell asleep again too. She was just glad he didn’t try anything more with her, so she could rest.
But she didn’t have much luck in the morning. She woke to Chris’ hand down her knickers, fingering her softly. While Tom had pulled her nightie off and was sucking on her nipples, the other three Alphas were watching intently.
Whimpering, she tried to move away, but when she moved away from Tom she inadvertently moved closer to Chris and vice versa.
‘Please… Not just now.’ She whispered as she tried pushing them both away and attempted to sit up.
But Tom wasn’t having any of it. He wrapped his hand around the front of her neck and pushed her back down on the bed. Chris leaned up out of the way.
‘Omegas obey their Alpha.’ Tom growled low. ‘You do not push us away. Ever.’
Esme’s eyes were wide as she swallowed hard. She felt scared, but also disappointed with herself that she was being told off by her Alpha. She didn’t want that.
‘Now tell me, what do omegas do?’ Tom asked firmly, his hand still with enough pressure on her neck to keep her lying down.
‘They… they obey their Alpha.’ She whispered, shaking a little as Tom started stroking his thumb up and down the side of her neck.
‘That’s right, lovely. And what do they never say to their Alpha?’
‘N… No.’
‘Good girl.’ Tom purred and slid his hand down her chest, down between her breasts. ‘But there are consequences for your actions. Something you need to learn.’
Esme felt dread rush through her. She squeaked in fear when Tom flipped her over so easily onto her stomach. His hand returned to her neck, this time holding her down at the back with her face shoved into the pillow.
He ripped her knickers off and she screamed into the pillow when she then felt Tom’s hand come down hard on her backside.
The other Alphas watched intently. Their inner Alpha didn’t like the fact another was hurting their omega, it was against their instinct not to attack Tom. Smelling Esme’s pain and fear scent as it filled the room… But they all knew it could be turned on any of them in the future if they were to dish out her punishment, knowing they would be aroused if they were the ones turning her bum a lovely shade of red.
Even Tom felt a very slight pang of guilt when he heard her crying, but he knew she needed to learn. And he had a feeling she would only ever need this one punishment.
After delivering eight harsh swats, Tom stopped and gently stroked her bum. He let go of her neck, but she didn’t look up. She was too sore and upset to do so. In shock.
Tom breathed out deeply and glanced to the others. He could see the murderous look in their eyes, he smirked, knowing they’d do the same if need be. And that he would feel the same as they do if it was someone else spanking her.
‘Michael, Ben, work soon.’ He then looked to David and Chris. ‘Look after her.’
They nodded in response.
Tom smoothed his hand down Esme’s back and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. ‘Be a good girl for them.’ He whispered before heading off to get ready.
David moved across the bed to Esme, while Chris went off to get dressed too. He stroked through her hair for a moment, then disappeared into the bathroom. But he was back in seconds. Esme still didn’t look up, but David heard small sniffles coming from her as her bum still stung.
She squeaked in surprise when she felt cooling cream land on her bum. David then rubbed it in gently as he sat down on the side of the bed next to her.
‘There we go, poppet. This will help to ease the heat and sting.’ He said softly.
After it was rubbed in well, she could already feel it cooling her skin down drastically. David went back to stroking her hair and he started crooning. She responded well, as she turned her head to look at him. He smiled at her and wiped her tears off her cheeks.
‘Come here.’ He tilted his head and patted his thigh.
She slowly sat up and moved towards him. He carefully took hold of her and curled her up on his lap, making sure to not hurt her bum.
Esme clung to him and buried her face into the crook of his neck, seeking out his affection. David rubbed her back and held her closely, rocking a little.
‘You’re alright, pet.’ He whispered and kissed the top of her head. ‘Don’t worry. It won’t happen again, because you’re our good girl.’
#Butterfly into chains#fan fiction#tom hiddleston#david tennant#michael fassbender#chris evans#benedict cumberbatch
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DESIRE
Part 35
Things get heated in Vegas.
Paul gently stroked Joe's cheek, hoping to wake him. He groaned, moving his head off Paul’s chest. “Baby,”
“Huh?” Joe moaned, keeping his eyes closed. “Let’s go to bed. It’s almost one.” Paul nudged him a little more urging him to get up. He was so cute when he was tired, eyes squinting, trying to avoid the light, his hair messy. He threw off the robe that he had been wearing and crawled in under the covers, closely followed by Paul. His face warmed seeing Joe immediately pull the covers up over his naked body. Paul lay behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Joe nodded off pretty quickly while Paul was just happy to lay holding him until he eventually drifted off.
It was almost 8:30 when Paul woke up. He rolled onto his back and looked to his left. Joe was lying on his stomach, head turned to face him. Strands, of hair had fallen in front of his face. Paul could just about see the fresh stitches on his temple. He knew it was a simple accident but it didn’t stop him being pissed off about it. That and the fact that he didn’t find out about the Wyatt attack until the last minute. He had to contain his anger sitting next to Vince watching it all unfold. He knew Joe could take it but he had become so protective of him in recent weeks that he would do anything in his position of power to give him anything. He could also see the fresh scratches and bruises that had appeared throughout his arms, side and back.
Paul had always found marks sexy but only when he was causing them. It made him think about the first time when he looked at Joe in a different way. It was back in 2014 when The Shield were up against Evolution at the Payback PPV. That time when he, Randy and Dave beat Joe with kendo sticks, followed by a steel chair. Not only that but the very next night when he was beaten with a steel chair. It turned him on immensely and he had been paying special attention to him since but he never made a move until after they got to know each other better during their 2016 feud.
“What are you thinking?” came Joe monotone voice against the pillow. Paul’s eyes trailed up to his. “Just looking at your battle scars.” A lazy smile crept across Joe face. “I dread to think what they look like this morning, much less feel.”
“At least you can rest until Sunday.” Paul said trailing his fingers gently down his spine, down to the base of his back. “I’ll need it.”
“It’ll be worth it baby, to see you with that title again. It’s been too long.” Paul re-assured him. Joe cast his eyes downwards. “It is what you want, isn’t it?”
Joe hesitated before answering. He turned on his side, wincing a little. “I just feel bad for Drew.” He pursed his lips. “I mean, it was meant for him wasn’t it?”
“Yeah but he doesn’t know that. It wasn’t fully decided until I spoke with creative.”
“He’s worked so hard for it-” Joe started. “Hey, look, we all know how hard he’s worked. He’ll get it one day but not just yet. It’s your time understand?” Joe really did feel troubled by this whole set up. He felt that this was just being given to him because of his relationship with Paul and he knew a few people would realise that. Joe always wanted to work for his title shots. “Do you understand?” Paul asked again. Joe nodded.
“I don’t want you overthinking this whole thing or losing sleep about it. Just rest up this week and do what you do best on Sunday.” Paul said placing a kiss on his lips before crawling out of bed, naked. Joe turned on his back and smiled, checking out his sweet ass as he went into the ensuite.
He listened as Paul ran the bath and thought about what he had just said. Seemed he would have this no other way. Joe himself agreed that he had busted his ass for almost a year with no sign of a title shot so true, it was his time. He just felt bad that he was getting in over Drew considering how well they had become acquainted in the last month.
Paul came out of the bathroom and came towards him. “I’m running you a nice relaxing bath baby. It’ll help, if only a little.” He said sitting at Joe’s side as he sat up. “You’re too good to me.” The young man told him. “It’s only temporary, while you’re hurt. Wait until I get you to my place next week.” Paul smirked with a dark glint in his eye. “Can’t wait.” His lips curved into a smile as Paul’s hand curved around the back of his neck and motioned him towards him for a slow, sensual kiss. Joe got up off the bed. “Check on the bath.” Paul advised, smacking him on the ass.
Joe eyebrows furrowed as he checked out his back in the bathroom mirror. It was as bad as he thought it would be. Hopefully creative didn’t have any nasty surprises in store for him come Sunday.
Carefully he eased himself into the bath. The heat of the water increased the pain in his back initially but he started to feel more relaxed as he lay back. He cupped the water in his hands, releasing it onto his chest and lay with his head back, eyes closed. It was so relaxing, he almost fell asleep again. Paul appeared at the door. His face softened when he saw Joe in the tub. He looked so peaceful. He couldn’t imagine wanting to hurt him like he’d done in the past but maybe he’d feel different in a week.
Paul watched with pride as the referee counted 1, 2, 3 when Joe pinned Bray. A huge smile spread across his face as the referee handed him the Universal Title. Joe was so overcome with emotion as he took hold of the belt. He had worked so hard for this and had just taken part in one of the hardest fought and best matches of his career. He felt banged up, still sore from the attack on Raw but he didn’t care.
His eyes met Paul’s first as he arrived backstage. Paul nodded at him with a smile just as he was bombarded by the other wrestlers congratulating him. Once he worked his way through the crowd, he got to Vince, who was almost on the verge of tears as he hugged him and finally Paul, who pulled him into a bear hug. “So proud of you.” Was all he said. Joe knew he was just keeping things low key as not to draw any attention. There would be plenty of time for talk later. All Joe wanted to do now was shower. He made his way, with his belt to the men’s locker room. A few of the guys were already in there, Colby, Tom, Matthew, Claudio, Kevin and Drew. Joe immediately went over to Drew and hugged him. “What a match!” Drew said with a smile, clearly glad that it was over. “You guys put on a hell of a show.” Claudio chimed in, putting his arms around both men. “We must celebrate!” He said throwing his arms up in the air. The others agreed, even Colby. Joe only had plans to go back to the Venetian with Paul. “Whaddya say Joe?” Drew asked. He couldn’t deny that smile. “Sounds a plan.” He said giving in. He barely ever went out for drinks with the guys and they were in Vegas. He grabbed his phone from his bag and quickly called Paul.
“What’s up?” Joe hated interrupting him while he was working. “Listen, some of the guys want to take me out for drinks. They kinda goaded me into it. Do you mind?” Paul was quiet for a moment. “No problem babe, I’ll be here another while anyway and you deserve it. Where are you guys going?”
“I’m not sure yet, somewhere on the Strip I’m sure. It’ll only be for two or three anyway.”
“OK cool, let me know where you end up.”
“Love you.” Joe told him to which Paul replied “Love you too.”
Everyone agreed go to the Dorsey at The Venetian since it was central Strip. They all freshened up and agreed to meet there around eleven. While Joe was changing into a his black suit and black shirt, he heard the door open. Paul was early. “Look at you.” He cooed seeing how good Joe looked. He rarely got to see him in a suit. “Makes me wanna keep you here.” He said pulling him in for a kiss. “I won’t be late. Just thought it’d be nice since we’re in Vegas. You wanna join us? We’re just actually going to the Dorsey downstairs.”
“Aww babe, I”d love to but its been a long day so I’ll just have a drink here.”
“You sure?” Joe checked. “Yeah, I’m good. Who’s out anyway?” He asked. “Kevin, Tom, Matthew, Claudio, Drew and Colby. Just a few of us.” Paul pulled away. Joe could see the look change on Paul’s face. He placed his hands on his hips. “I thought you and Colby were no longer on speaking terms?” Joe shifted. “Well, there’s just the odd hello here and there. It’s kinda unavoidable since we work together.” Joe tried to reason with him.
“Doesn’t sound like it.” Paul said. He looked annoyed. “Claudio just suggested drinks when we were all in the locker room. I could hardly say no?” Paul walked out of the bedroom into the living room area with Joe in pursuit “Look, I should’ve told you when I first mentioned drinks but I…” Paul stopped and turned to face him “You what?” Joe backed away a little “I was worried you might be annoyed.” The young man was frustrated. “You’re right. I am. I specifically asked you not to get involved with him-”
“We’re just going for drinks with friends. That’s all! Don’t you trust me?” Joe asked, searching his eyes. Paul’s eyebrow furrowed “Don’t you?” Joe asked again, his eyes starting to look a little glassy. Joe swallowed, backing away and going back into the bedroom. Paul’s look said it all. He could hear Joe starting to gather his things in the ensuite. “What are you doing?” Paul asked coming into the bedroom. “You clearly don’t trust me so I’m done.” Joe was visibly upset. “I’m sorry baby. Don’t go-” He said grabbing Joe arm. “No, not this time. I was so fucking stupid to think I could try this again.” He said zipping up his bag. He was angry now. Paul grabbed his arm again, this time not letting him go. “Look, look! I’m sorry I upset you. You know how I feel about Colby.”
“There’s nothing going on. I can’t believe you don’t trust me with him.” At that moment, Joe phone rang. He took it out of his pocket. It was Drew. Paul eyed the phone before Joe answered. “Hey, I’m just held up a little. I’ll be down soon.”
Paul took a few steps back. “Y’know what? You do what you want. See if I care.” Joe scowled at him before grabbing his bag and leaving the room. He was seething. He blinked his eyes hard as he walked towards the elevators, trying to ward off tears. Luckily, reception was quiet since it was Sunday night and he was able to get himself a room. He quickly dropped his bag off and went down to the bar. The guys were all sat around a table in the corner. “About time!” Tom announced as he approached the table. “Sorry guys!” Joe apologised forcing a smile. “Have some champagne! Time to celebrate!” Claudio said, already filling a glass for Joe. They all toasted to his win and a good night for them all in general.
“Where’s Paul?” Drew asked whilst the others were all chatting amongst themselves. “He’s upstairs.” Joe simply said, taking a swig of his beer. “Didn’t care to join us for a drink?”
“You know what he’s like. Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about him.” Joe called to the passing bartender “Can I get another round?” The bartender got to work immediately. Drew looked Joe over. Something seemed off, like he was hiding something.
An hour passed and everyone was moderately drunk. Joe was in mild conversation with Colby when his phone rang. Colby could see it was Paul, just before Joe put it away. “Aren’t you gonna get that?”
“No, It’s fine.” Joe shrugged. “Listen man, tell me if I’m out of line but…you seem different tonight. Are things OK with you and Paul?” He asked cautiously so the others wouldn’t hear. “No, they’re not.” He said before sighing. “Do you want to talk about it?” Joe looked him in the eyes “Actually, no. I just wanna have a good time with you guys and forget about it.” Colby backed up “It’s cool man, whatever you want.”
It was around 1am when the guys decided to call it a night and go to their respective hotels. “Hang on for a moment.” Joe told Colby as the others left.
“I didn’t want to come off as a dick earlier. You know that’s not me.” Joe started apologising as they stood in the lobby area. “Hey man it’s all good. Despite what’s happened between us over the past month or so, you know I’m always here for you.”
“Appreciate it man. Where are you staying?” Joe asked. “Here. I’ve never stayed here before, thought I’d treat myself.”
“Well It’s been a long day. I’m shattered.” Joe said as they walked towards the elevators. “At least were here tomorrow for Raw so can chill for a bit.”
“Well, this is me.” Joe said as they stopped at the 10th floor. “You gonna be OK? I don’t mind keeping you company…” Colby offered. Joe eyes trailed in his direction as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He didn’t need to say anything. Colby stepped out into the hallway and walked to Joe’s room in silence. Nothing had been touched. It just looked like he’d left his suitcase in and came down to the bar which meant that he had probably been in Paul’s room beforehand.
Joe closed the room door behind them and set the key card aside. Colby walked into the living room area and looked out the window, taking in the night view. Joe followed, taking off his jacket and setting it on the back of the chair. Quietly he moved behind Colby and placed his hand on his right shoulder, urging him to turn around. Without a word, he kissed him gently on the lips. Colby reciprocated momentarily but moved away slowly. “What’s the matter?” Joe asked. “I don’t want to regret this.”
“You won’t.” He leaned in to kiss him again, more forceful this time. “Joe, please-”
“I thought you wanted this?” Joe searched his eyes. “I do but, you’re drunk…pissed off with Paul. I just…you’ve gotta understand where I’m coming from?” Colby was being reasonable. Joe moved away, lowering to the sofa. “I do. It’s not fair on you man.” Colby joined him on the sofa. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”
“Things got a little rocky a couple of weeks ago when I went to stay at his in Connecticut so I left earlier than I had planned. I thought that was it but last Friday, we talked and ended up spending the weekend together in Denver.”
“When I told him I was going for drinks tonight, he was fine at first but he got pissed off when he heard you would be there.” Colby rolled his eyes “It’s just drinks with friends. What does he think is gonna happen between us?” Colby shook his head in amusement. “He doesn’t trust me when it comes to you and I can’t live like that. I had to make a choice.”
“So that’s why you walked out tonight?” Colby pursed his lips. “Yeah. I had enough.” Joe let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just tired man.” Joe leaned forward and lowered his head into his hands. Colby could see that he was starting to cry. He moved closer and put his arms around Joe “Aww man, don’t cry.” Joe buried his head into his friends shoulder and sobbed quietly. “I hate to see you like this.” He stroked the back of his neck, gently rocking him. Joe moved away, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just feel like a mess.” Colby took hold of his shoulders. “Listen to me. I don’t want to see you upset. You’re not a mess. You’re a brilliant man and my best friend. You deserve the best.” Joe blinked and nodded. He felt ashamed. He didn’t want Colby to see him like this. “Just get some sleep man.” Joe nodded standing up. He stood up and got undressed down to his boxers while Colby pulled back the covers on the bed and moved the cushions aside. Joe brushed his teeth and came back into the bedroom. Colby forced a smile. “Will you stay a while. Just until I fall asleep? I don’t wanna be alone.” Joe as asked timidly.
“Of course.” He nodded. Joe got into the bed and watched as he undressed, neatly setting his shirt and trousers aside before turning off the lights. The room was now bathed on a red glow, coming from the nearby Hi-Roller outside. Colby climbed in next to Joe, who was lying on his back, eyes lowered to his chest. Colby moved closer, allowing Joe to lean his head into his chest for comfort. He placed his hand on Joe abdomen. There was something so soothing lying with Colby, hearing his light breaths and feeling his heartbeat that it didn’t take Joe long to nod off.
Joe awoke around nine the following morning. The room was bright since the curtains hadn’t been drawn. He had been lying in the same position as he had fallen asleep in. Colby started to stir, moving his head. He groaned, opening his eyes slowly.
“What time is it?” He asked groggily. Joe grabbed his phone from the night stand. “It’s just gone nine. Thanks for staying.“ Joe turned in to face him. “No worries. You feeling a bit better?” Colby asked, stroking his cheek. “Rested. So glad we don’t have to travel today.”
“I know. What are you gonna do?” Colby asked, stroking Joe forearm. “I don’t know. I never made plans. I normally just chill with Paul.”
“Why don’t we go somewhere for a big breakfast. There’s a place I’ve been to before called the Peppermill. Wanna go there?”
“A big breakfast sounds perfect about now.” His stomach rumbled at the thought. Colby laughed upon hearing it. His hand trailed down to Joe stomach where he tickled him. Joe laughed aloud, squirming, trying to fight him off as Colby climbed on top of him, continuing to tickle him. He grabbed Joe by the wrists and pinned him to the mattress. Joe could feel his cock getting very hard as Colby did this.
“What are you gonna do now?” he teased, lowering his head closer to Joe. Their eyes met. Without hesitation, Joe lifted his head off the pillow and kissed Colby. Within seconds, they were entangled in a passionate kiss, hands roaming each others bodies, scrambling to take their boxers off. Joe rolled over onto his stomach, arching himself up on his knees. Colby climbed behind him and prized his ass cheeks apart, leaned forward and started to tease his opening with his tongue. Joe moaned at the warm wet feeling. “So good…” He looked behind and all he could see was Colby’s head buried in his ass. He dripped his saliva around the opening and lined the head of his cock up with the opening of Joe’s hole. He eased his way in as Joe lowered his head, breathing deeply. In no time their bodies were rocking the bed, slowly at first, then becoming more steady as Colby picked up the pace. “Aaaah fuck. Jesus!” Joe let out, trying to maintain his balance. All Joe could hear was the slamming of Colby”s balls every time he thrust into him along with his grunts. He sure had stamina when it came to fucking. Colby gripped his pelvis tightly, steadying him as he came hard in his ass. Joe buried his head into the pillows below as Colby shuddered behind him breathlessly. He eventually released Joe, rolling back onto his heels. He watched as Joe rolled over onto his back, strands of hair strewn across his damp forehead. He smiled lazily at Colby, watching as he leaned down to kiss him.
“I don’t know about you but I need food.” Colby said getting off the bed. “I’m gonna go freshen up in my room and I’ll meet you at like 10:30 in the Lobby?”
“Sounds perfect.” Joe said getting off the bed. He followed Colby to the door. “Hey.” Colby turned around. “Thanks man.” Joe kissed him again before letting him leave. Joe smiled to himself as he walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He went to the bedside to plug in his phone. He pursed his lips upon seeing a couple of unread WhatsApp messages from Paul. A horrible feeling invaded the pit of his stomach as he opened them.
11:30pm - I’m sorry about tonight. I do trust you. I don’t want to lose you again.
8:45am – Hope you’re OK? I want to make things better. Can we talk?
Joe exhaled setting the phone down and went to take his shower. All he could think of was that it was too late for Paul to say he trusted him. Why didn’t he say it to his face last night? Again, Paul had him wrecking his brain. He didn”t know how things might pan out with Colby since he was known to sleep around. He probably wouldn’t want anything serious. It was too soon anyway. He decided he was gonna just play it cool in the meantime and see how things pan out.
When he came back into the bedroom, his phone had just stopped ringing. It was Paul. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
One thing that was certain, Paul wasn’t the type to give up on something so easily. He would probably see him this evening for Raw and part of him wanted to get this over with.
“I was wondering if I’d hear from you at all.” Paul started. “I’m not long up.” Joe said walking over to the window. “Good night?” Joe hated this small talk. “Yeah, was a nice change.” There was a moment of silence. “Are you at the Venetian still?” Paul asked.
“Yeah.” Joe started pacing around the room.
“Can I see you?” Paul eventually asked. “I have to head out soon.”
“When you’re free?” Paul pushed. “OK. I should be around one.” Joe told him. He was already dreading this conversation. “OK come up to my room.” Paul said before ending the call.
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Darkness
A New Legends of Monkey fanfic inspired by @fandom-which-one. I don't know you, but I hate you as much as I love you. The feels... T_T
English is not my language so please excuse my grammar.
Darkness.
He never stopped to wonder how death was, but darkness was an unsurprising answer. The consciousness was a bit overwhelming for him, though. He had heard sages talk about the peacefulness of death but being stuck with his thoughts was at best annoying.
He wondered if he would be remembered for another 500 years. Well, he was the monkey king, so of course, he would be remembered, but he wondered how. After all, in an extremely selfless act, he threw himself into the sun. So he had to be even more legendary than he was before. Especially if Tripitaka was the one to tell his story.
Tripitaka… he would have spoken her name, if he could, just to feel its sonority against his lips. Monkey was proud and egocentric on the surface, but he knew better than to lie to himself. His last act was far from selfless. He knew that it was either shadow-Monkey, and therefore him, or Tripitaka. And if Tripitaka had died, he wouldn’t have been able to live another second.
Now, she was under the protection of Sandy and Pigsy, the only ones he trusted nearly as much like himself with her. He missed them, already. Pigsy and his wholesome shape and meals. Sandy and her quirks. Tripitaka and her… everything. He knew they missed him too and this brought a bit of comfort.
He had only one regret: not telling Tripitaka the extent of his affection. Monkey was definitely not the best at dealing with the matter of the heart, but he had realized his fondness for her when she fell from the tower. His monk was incredibly smart, she had to know he loved her. He jumped after her without even a doubt. He followed her when the white Tripitaka dude needed him. He gave his life for her. He had done everything in his power to keep her safe and sound and certain of her worth.
Damn, he wanted to see her. He cursed at himself for not being as straightforward as he could have been. He cursed at Tripitaka for not running into his arms at any occasion. He cursed at the demons for preventing them from having a peaceful day. He cursed at Shadow Monkey for menacing her.
In his frustration, he punched into the nothingness and found a wall covered with slime. He realized he was pretty cramped too. He pushed the walls surrounding him and broke free. He started at the sun, high in the sky, farther than when he died. He looked around and saw the mountain beneath his… Egg.
His eyebrows rose with incredulity, but he had no time to waste. He had no idea how or why he was alive, but he was not going to let his chance pass. He called for his cloud, but the damn thing didn't come. He feared for a second that the cloud vanished into the sun, but he still could feel their connection. It was just being stubborn again.
Well, no matter, he would run all the way to her. He climbed down the mountain in a hurry and arrived near a village. It was only then that he realized he was naked. In a hurry, he picked some clothes laid out to dry. He considered leaving without saying anything, but she would not like this. So he drew a monkey on the dirt with a stick and ran again. He would come back later to pay his due.
Miraculously, his egg was not so far from the beach he left them. He stopped before he could see the sand. He didn't want to make his big declaration dressed as the day he was born. He slipped into the clothes he just borrowed. They were feminine and way too tight to be comfortable, but it would have to do. His godly figure would look good in anything anyway.
Monkey walked on the beach, his chin raised up a bit, his hair floating in the wind. Pigsy, Sandy and White Tripitaka had their back turned. His Tripitaka was nowhere to be seen but he assumed she was hidden by them. After all, she was an adorable tiny human. He cleared his throat.
”Missed me?”
The smug smile he had disappeared as soon as he saw Pigsy face. His beard was drenched with tears and his mouth wobbled. Sandy was no better and even White Tripitaka looked more depressed than usual.
”Guys, it's okay now! The great Monkey is back! Where is Tripitaka? I have something to tell her.”
Sandy and Pigsy parted to let him see the reason for their sorrow.
Tripitaka was there, lying peacefully on the dark sand. Her cheeks and eye corners were wet but her expression serene, as if she had just fallen asleep.
Monkey dropped to his knees. His hands gripped at the sand as he struggled to breathe. He nearly crawled to her, all strength gone from his limbs. He didn't dare to touch her so he just stared, mouth opened, air deprived as the grief clad his throat. He finally inhaled and it was the most painful experience he ever had. His lungs were made of stone, his mouth was dry and his hands shook too much for him to do anything. He exhaled in a cry, his voice echoing on the cliff. Finally, he took her.
He put one hand under her head and the other on her back and hugged her small frame. She was so light in his arms, so frail. So far away. He rocked her slowly against his chest, his hand stroking her short hair. He kissed her forehead, hoping she would wake up to shoo him away.
She couldn't be gone. Not like this. He had so much to tell her. So much to show her. She would wake up at any moment and they would continue their quest as if nothing had happened. He just had to be patient. Monkey sat in a lotus position and brought Tripitaka on his lap, holding her head against his shoulder. If he had to cry a river for her to come back, he was on the righ path.
”She brought you back, ” Sandy whispered in a cracked voice. ”She gave her life for yours.”
Monkey frowned. The scrolls were scattered around her and he understood.
”Why did you do that?” he asked the lifeless Tripitaka in his arms. ”You had no right to take your life like this. I am the one who saves you, not the other way.”
If only he had been strong enough to defeat Shadow Monkey, he would not have to destroy the scroll. He would not have died, she wouldn't have to save him. He sobbed, holding her as close as he could.
“I can’t go on without you, you know that? There’s no Monkey without Tripitaka.” He looked at her, her traits blurred yet delicate, her pink lips that were condemned. He would have given his beating heart just to see the fire burning in her eyes again.
”I love you, ” he whispered for only them to hear. ”I love you and I am so sorry for not having told you before.”
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Mating Season
Summary: It's Geralt's third year out on the Path, and while he might think he's seen everything the Continent has to offer, he's wrong. Or, Geralt gets fucked by a dragon.
Tags: Monsterfucker Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, sex with a dragon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Large Cock, Witcher Stamina, Come Inflation, Multiple Orgasms, belly bulge, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Dragons, Enthusiastic Consent
read here on ao3!
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It was Geralt’s third year out on the Path, and he thought there wasn’t much that could surprise him. He’d seen it all—necrophages, draconids, wraiths. Even a rogue earth elemental, once, which had been a grueling fight, but which had paid out quite handsomely.
He was pretty well versed in more intimate matters, too—though he’d often fooled around with the other boys at Kaer Morhen, he hadn’t known what else sex had to offer until he’d finally gone out into the world. When he’d first gathered up the coin and the courage to visit a brothel, he’d been nervous but willing to learn. And did he ever—how to fuck, how to be fucked, all the different things you could do with hands and mouths and other people.
All this was to say—Geralt thought he knew what he was getting into when he took the contract. It seemed easy enough—something was living up in the caves on top of the mountain, and the villagers were scared enough to hire a witcher to take care of it. Geralt accepted the gold and hiked up there, expecting a rock troll maybe, or a wyvern at the worst.
What he found was far more interesting—a dragon. Not a wyvern, not a basilisk, not a forktail. A real, honest-to-gods golden dragon, which weren’t supposed to exist.
The dragon in question was standing protectively in front of the entrance to its cave, tail lashing and teeth bared—but it didn’t attack. Strange.
Geralt carefully lowered his hand from where he had been gripping the pommel of his sword, watching with awe as the dragon relaxed some. So it was intelligent, then. Sentient, even?
“I’m not here to hurt you,” Geralt said calmly, staring into its eyes, willing it to understand. “I was sent up here to investigate, that’s all.”
“And how am I to trust you, witcher?” spoke the golden dragon—quite intelligent, then. “I know your kind well. You hunted my brethren to extinction for a handful of coins at the order of the humans. Little better than cold-blooded killers, all of you.”
“Not all of us. Me, my brethren—we don’t kill dragons. We don’t kill any sentient creatures, as long as we aren’t forced.” With every word, he hoped the dragon would sense the truth of it—he truly didn’t want to hurt the dragon, but he would, if it was a threat to the people living below.
The dragon narrowed its eyes. “Why are you here, then?”
“As I said—I was paid to investigate the creature living on the mountain. As far as I can see, you’re doing no harm living up here. My work is done, and I’ll leave you in peace.” Geralt slowly lowered his hands as he spoke, relaxing, and the dragon did the same, straightening from its defensive crouch.
The dragon stared at him for one long, inscrutable moment—Geralt felt as if he were back under the judging gaze of the master witchers back home, small and inexperienced. Looking into the dragon’s eyes, he could tell that it had seen countless more winters than him, was wiser and more experienced than he could ever hope to be.
And then it huffed out a puff of smoke, lumbering aside to reveal its nest behind it. “I thank you, Geralt of Rivia, for your understanding and kindness. I will let you go in peace now—unless you desire to fulfill another purpose here. I would pay handsomely should you agree, but neither would I force you should you disagree.”
“What is it?” Geralt asked warily. Never had he gotten a contract from a non-human before.
“I would take you to my nest for an evening. It is mating season for my kind, and though I would normally spend it alone, I would prefer a willing partner, if you’re so inclined.”
Geralt stared. The dragon stared back with its fiery gold eyes, unflinching.
“I’ll do it,” Geralt said.
--
The dragon led him inside the cave to its nest, which was quite cozy, considering. It had gathered animal pelts and arranged them into a thick blanket on the cavern floor, and piled even more around the edges, forming a protected depression just large enough for the dragon to spread out in. Geralt hovered by the edge, uncertain about where to go from here.
The dragon, meanwhile, lit a fire on the other side of the cave, where the smoke wouldn’t smother them, but close enough that Geralt could feel its warmth near the nest.
“Is it custom for humans to breed fully clothed?” the dragon asked, a note of humor in its voice if Geralt wasn’t mistaken.
“No,” Geralt grunted, blushing, and began to strip, quickly and efficiently. Off came his swords, his armor, his clothes, until he stood naked and unashamed in front of the dragon. “How do you want me?” he asked stiffly.
“I want you relaxed, for one thing,” the dragon chided. “As I said, I would like a willing partner. There’s no shame in changing your mind.”
Geralt unclenched his fists and willed his shoulders to drop. “I am willing. How are we doing this?” he asked again.
“Lie down in the nest and try to relax. I’ll be back shortly,” the dragon ordered. Geralt climbed inside as the dragon disappeared into another chamber of the cave.
Lying down on his back, he felt very vulnerable, and had to fight the urge to cover himself. Never had he been so bare, so unprotected in front of a monster—but the dragon wasn’t a monster, he had to remind himself, it was intelligent and nonthreatening.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times, trying to get into the meditation headspace that always did wonders for calming him down. As he did, he reached a hand down towards his cock and started stroking idly.
As he relaxed more, his cock grew harder beneath his touches, blood rushing to it, and he bit his lip, slowing down before he came. The night hadn’t even started yet—he had infamous witcher stamina, but he had the feeling he would need every bit of it to keep up with the dragon.
He opened his eyes and yanked his hand away from his cock as he heard large footsteps returning. The dragon’s head appeared over the lip of the nest, a small bottle clutched in its jaws.
The dragon dropped it gently on top of Geralt’s chest, and he realized with a blush that it was oil. “Prepare yourself,” the dragon said, pinning him in place with those huge golden eyes.
He snatched the bottle up and yanked the cork out with his teeth, pouring a liberal amount on his fingers. He thanked every god he knew of for the whore in Vizima who had taught him how to open himself up a year ago.
It meant that he knew exactly how to tease himself, how to circle a finger around his entrance, dripping wet with slick, how to gently push a fingertip in, feeling the way he clenched around himself at the first press inwards.
He pulled his fingertip out and pushed it in another inch, gasping at the stretch, though he knew it was hardly anything yet.
“Beautiful,” the dragon murmured, gaze fixated on where his finger was disappearing into himself. Geralt’s face burned hot and he snuck another finger in, mouth dropping open and eyes falling shut. At least now he didn’t have to look at the dragon looking at him with that burning gaze.
He stroked his fingers in and out, breathing heavily, feeling his hole loosen around his fingers as he relaxed more. When he deemed himself ready for another finger, he added it, cock twitching as the stretch increased—not enough to burn, but enough to have him gasping for breath with every movement.
“So good for me,” the dragon purred, and Geralt opened his eyes to see it climbing inside, head dipping close, hot breath puffing over him.
Geralt pulled his fingers free with a wet squelch, letting his hand fall. The dragon hummed and nosed closer to his hole, little puffs of air over it making him shiver.
“Well? Are we going to do this or not?” Geralt croaked.
The dragon chuckled. “I don’t think you’re ready yet,” it said modestly, and Geralt glanced down for the first time to see its cock, standing proud between its legs, absolutely massive. He gulped. He wanted that in him now. “Just a bit longer, little wolf,” it said, and dipped its head again.
Geralt shouted something wordless as he felt its tongue, hot and wet, sliding across his slicked hole. “Alright?” the dragon purred, lifting its head. Geralt nodded faintly, and it ducked back down, delving in again. Geralt brought his fist up to his mouth, biting down on it to stifle any embarrassing whimpers he might have made.
And then its tongue pushed inwards, and all of his efforts to keep silent went out the window. It was so thick, and hot, like a cock but more, moving and wriggling and gods he wasn’t going to last long.
He reached a hand down again and stripped his cock madly, coming mere seconds later, shouting out his pleasure as the dragon wrung him dry.
He panted as he came down from his high, the dragon retreating and letting him catch his breath for a minute. By the time he felt settled enough to open his eyes, he was met with the sight of the dragon’s cock, now leaking and flushed, rutting into the furs of the nest.
“In me,” he gasped, throwing his head back. “In me, now, I’m ready.”
The dragon groaned, nipping at his neck with those wicked, razor-sharp teeth, but Geralt felt no fear. He threw his head back, allowing the dragon greater access to his neck.
The dragon moved, shifting upwards, great body completely covering Geralt, warm and heavy, and then the tip of its cock entered him in one smooth thrust. All of the air left Geralt, or else he would have whimpered at the intrusion.
He rocked his hips into it, urging its cock deeper, harder, faster, but it remained maddeningly out of reach. He whined. “More, please, give me more,” he begged.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” the dragon grunted, seemingly holding back out of sheer will.
“You won’t, I’m a witcher, now give it to me,” Geralt snarled, surging upwards. The dragon let him push it to lie on its back, and he sank onto its cock with a moan. He was so full; he could practically feel the dragon in his throat, its massive cock coring him open.
He panted, moving his hips in small circles until he got used to the stretch, to the fullness that was pervading his entire being. As soon as he was, he unceremoniously lifted himself up and dropped back down, eyes rolling back in his head as its cock brushed right against his prostate.
“You feel so good for me, little wolf. So hot and tight, yes,” the dragon hissed, meeting Geralt’s thrusts with its own. Geralt shivered, cock once again hard and leaking.
“You’re so big,” Geralt muttered in response, increasing his speed until he was riding the dragon with everything he had, letting out little grunts with each thrust.
The dragon groaned, long and low, and then it was coming, cock spurting inside of Geralt, filling him up. Geralt threw his head back and came too, taken over the edge by the feeling of being so completely full.
He hardly even noticed as the dragon sat up, pulling him with it, limp as a ragdoll. The dragon arranged them until Geralt was on his hands and knees, though that didn’t last long, as his arms immediately gave out and he crashed face-first into the furs.
The dragon kept on, heedless of Geralt’s complete lack of energy—but Geralt didn’t ask it to stop. How could he, when it felt so good? Every movement had its cock slamming into his prostate, sensitive but not too much. He moaned. “More. Gimme more,” he slurred. “I wan’ all of it.”
“Don’t worry, little wolf. I’m nowhere near done with you. You’ll be screaming before the night is up,” the dragon promised in a low growl.
It resumed its hammering—Geralt whined and reached a hand down, intent on getting off again, but paused when his hand brushed his stomach. Was that—?
He realized that his stomach was bulging outwards, and not only from the come the dragon had pumped into him. It was the dragon’s cock, he realized, as he felt it moving underneath him.
The thought was so hot—that the dragon was so big he could feel it even through his stomach—that Geralt’s toes curled and he felt himself coming again, hole clenching and fluttering around the dragon’s cock, toes curling, every muscle in his body tensing.
His vision went white.
--
He came back to himself gods knew how long later, lying on his back in the nest of furs, clean and sated. The dragon was curled around him, like a big, scaly furnace, the heat perfect for his sore and overtaxed muscles.
He could stand to nap a few more hours, he supposed, settling back in against the dragon’s bulk. As his eyes slipped shut once more, he felt the dragon rumble in approval beneath him. He fell asleep with a sated smile on his face.
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‘Aftermath’ Chapter 12: History Has Its Eyes on You (Commodus x OC)
(image source: @attackofthesith)
Summary: Emperor Commodus finds a taste of paradise after a long time in his personal darkness. Meanwhile, Petronius and Philomenus take the biggest stand of their lives, determined to bring the republic back and honor the late Caesar.
Word Count: 2,414
Warning: Violence, angst, character death
Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here
Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here
Read Part 3: Point of No Return here
Read Part 4: Look Down here
Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here
Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here
Read Part 7: Wait For It here
Read Part 8: Something There here
Read Part 9: Be Prepared here
Read Part 10: Twisted Every Way here
Read Part 11: All I Ask of You here
Philomenus never wanted to run. At least that’s what he hoped that people would say when they told his story.
Approaching the Colosseum with daggers and gladii under his tunic, the centurion had never felt more alive that before. Philomenus kept thinking about how happy Claudia would be to raise their siblings in a republic, how delighted their deceased parents would be with their offspring, and how heroic he would stand in the face of his young twin brother and sister.
For someone who had never participated in a scheme before, deception came rather easily to him. With a few sweet words, Philomenus was able to charm one of the guards into leaving his post and surrendering his uniform. The disguise would definitely fool Commodus, he thought. The next guard would not let Philomenus pass so easily. Not after the centurion tripped and a knife fell from under his tunic with a loud clang. But one quick slash of his sword against the guard’s stomach cleared his way.
As of now, Petronius was the only one who knew about their joint plot, but they would reveal themselves as the assassins once Commodus breathed his last. The two of them would be publicly hailed as the ones who brought Rome back to her true self. The Senators would be eternally grateful to them, and they could all fearlessly honor the Spaniard who spent his life as a soldier of Rome. Finishing what he started, the centurion was confident that the soul of Maximus Decimus Meridius would finally rest in peace.
The thought of all this was enough for massive mounts of adrenaline to surge within Philomenus. He was going to be fighting for Rome in the biggest stand of his life, defending her honor as he would defend his own mother.
Petronius was right when he claimed yesterday that it was their responsibility, as comrades of the late Maximus, to exact revenge upon Commodus. The vile man had no regard for the value of human life, taking it as he pleased in the same way a child would throw around its toys. Patricide would have been the only way for Commodus to win the throne; surely Marcus Aurelius would never let his immoral son succeed him. Wisdom, justice, fortitude, and temperance…Commodus never had any of those things, and yet had the nerve to believe he deserved to become the protector of Rome. All because he was born into the household of the late Caesar!
Spitting into the ground with disgust, Philomenus clenched his jaw hearing the mob chant Commodus’s name from the seats of the Colosseum. And how Commodus would be happily eating up the attention like a dog eats from the bones thrown at him. The only thing that calmed the centurion’s wrath the knowledge that after tomorrow, that very name would be erased from the minds and tongues of Romans everywhere.
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The Emperor had a youthful glow upon his face when he entered the Imperial Box of the stadium. It was almost as if the Sun took a bit of its own brightness, and showered Commodus in it.
He had the most perfect morning after a long time. Rather than being disappointed by his nephew’s reluctance at breakfast, the emperor was amused by stories Prince Lucius narrated from his lessons. And instead of being agitated by a night terror, Commodus was awakened by kisses from his bride-to-be.
Wide-eyed with mildly-disheveled hair, Caesonia innocently brushed her lips along his arm. Blushing while his eyes fluttered open, Commodus held her closer and gently moved his fingers along her back. That glint in his eyes quickly turned lustful when his hand barely reached the curve of her derriere. After they realized the two of them were still naked from the night before, things quickly escalated into another session of sweet lovemaking.
If he closed his eyes now, he could still see her lying in his bed. Her shapely breasts rose and fell while she gasped for air post-coitus. The sheets barely covered the junction of her thighs, the rest of her body was drenched in sunlight and her limbs were sprawled across the mattress.
The mere sight of her looking at him so lovingly was alluring enough for Commodus to toy with the idea of spending a few more moments in bed. Though her presence was also the reason he didn’t loudly scold the guard who had come to fetch him.
Not taking his eyes off of his rose for a moment, he began to dress himself in a new set of black armor and silk purple robes. The emperor teased Caesonia that if he could not lay with his beloved one more time, then he ought to be permitted to gaze upon her beauty while he prepared to leave. Hiding her face for a moment, she giggled and hugged her knees close.
Delighted and enamored by her girlish laughter, Commodus gave her one of his togas to wear for the day. He had personally never cared for the garment, considering it fit for old men, but it seemed like the only thing in his wardrobe that a lady could wear. And the toga almost reminded Commodus of their first kiss. Caesonia wore a similar, coarser garment when they walked in the palace gardens and conversed together. He couldn’t believe that moonless evening was only a month ago; it felt as if it had been longer since then.
Murmuring her thanks, she accepted the toga, as well as his offer to help her put it on. Like young lovers, they exchanged pleasant small talk and spoke of their hopes of many more starlit nights together. Draping the silk around her slender form, Commodus pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and requested for her to rest while he was gone. Now that she was going to be his Empress, he needed her to be healthy and in good condition to accompany him to the Games. At last, Lucilla’s chair would no longer be empty.
He wasn’t sure about how to introduce her to Lucius. His own nephew was only beginning to warm up to him, and Commodus was concerned about hurting the boy. Assuring himself that Lucius would be amicable with Caesonia, the emperor broke his fast with his nephew. The engaging conversation made the bread taste heartier, and the cheese more flavorful. He even drank less wine, usually turning to the drink in order to fill the silence. Perhaps there was hope for a new family to rid Commodus of his solitude, and shower him with the love that he yearned for so desperately.
And now, here he was, entering the Colosseum to thousands of people chanting his name with adoration. With a wave to the crowd, Commodus was confident that even the gods could not take his happiness away.
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“Look well into thyself; there is always a source of strength which will always spring up if thou wilt always look.”
Petronius nodded in approval. “Is that from one of Caesar’s writings?”
“Yes,” Philomenus replied, smiling with pride like a child who’d perfectly recited his lessons. “We should say something. Like, you know, before we strike.”
The centurion was immediately hushed by his accomplice. It was no secret to the general that announcing themselves was a stupid idea. “If we say too much now, then we may not get a chance to say anything else.” Moreover, Petronius had no interest in listening to words from someone who was reluctant to take action. He would not rest until Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus was dead.
Relenting, Philomenus slumped against the walls of the tunnel with his weapon in hand. “He’ll come here, right? Not anywhere else?”
“Yes,” Petronius gritted through his teeth, finding himself annoyed with the other man almost as much as he was annoyed by Senator Gaius. That old man kept bombarding him with rebuttals and offering no sympathy for Petronius’s view. Let them wait for Commodus to lose his sanity, he thought to himself, but I cannot. The people of Rome will not wait. Eyes burning with vengeance, the general kept his demeanor calm while his fingers became acquainted with the blade and hilt of one of Philomenus’s weapons.
Much like Philomenus, Petronius too had a sister who’d be waiting to congratulate him with open arms. But he knew that thoughts of her would be nothing but an obstacle in this quest of his. He needed to remain focused on what he wanted more than anything; the death of the man responsible for destroying Rome. Commodus needed to pay for what he’d done, and he could not bribe with bread and circuses for long.
The two men stood apart from each other at opposite sides of the tunnel. They hadn’t discussed how they planned to lunge at their target, or whether or not there would be many Praetorians there to stand in the way. Yet, perhaps Commodus would be sufficiently intoxicated by bloodshed, power, and attention from the Games, thus making it easier for him to be killed. Petronius hoped that such would be true, listening intently while the announcer commented on each event of the day.
Just when their knees began to feel the slightest hint of fatigue, the doors of the tunnel loudly swung open. A herald broke the silence, proclaiming that the Emperor of Rome was to arrive. This was it. This was the moment they’d been waiting for. This was…
“For Marcus Aurelius!!” Philomenus screamed, latching onto Commodus’s shoulder and slashing his sword against the emperor’s armor. Commodus stumbled backwards, taken aback by the sudden mention of his father’s name. Almost immediately, he commanded his Praetorians to take action. Petronius fought the three Praetorians that tried to capture him, disarming them with quick succession. The three of them fell to the ground with fatal wounds to their chests and legs.
Philomenus continued to duel with the infuriated Commodus, who’d effectively countered each and every blow the general launched. Despite Philomenus’s dagger being paltry against Commodus’s well-fashioned sword, the centurion stood his ground. “You will pay for what you’ve done, Commodus!” He yelled, defiantly calling the emperor by name.
Commodus said nothing in reply, instead using his might to push Philomenus against the wall and kick the centurion with his knee. Philomenus skillfully dodged Commodus’s attempts to stab him in the chest, continuing to taunt mercilessly.
Meanwhile, Petronius had managed to fend off the other Praetorians, even kicking one of them in the chest and sending him into the dust. His heart was pounding wildly like a war drum as he continued to attack the other guards standing in the tunnel.
One of them was able to snatch the weapon away from Petronius, kicking the general to the ground in the same way he’d kicked a Praetorian. Clenching his fists, Petronius spat at the guard and wiped his bleeding nose with a dead Praetorian’s purple cloak. He picked up a stray weapon and retaliated.
And Philomenus seemed to be using words more than swordplay with the emperor. “You’re nothing but a vile man! You’re nothing! Everyone who’s ever loved you has turned their backs on you!” Commodus continued to say nothing while lunging his attacks, instead resisting the urge to cut off his opponent’s tongue.
Philomenus kicked Commodus, sending him to the ground while the laurel crown fell off Commodus’s head. The emperor touched his own lip to find it bleeding profusely. With a snarl, he quickly stood back up and gripped his sword again. Only this time, he was attacked from behind by Petronius.
“This is your chance, Philomenus!” Petronius yelled while he ducked Commodus’s blows. Petronius raised his dagger, preparing to stab Commodus’s neck. Unfortunately, the centurion was too slow.
Commodus took advantage of Petronius’s fatigue, slashing the general’s ribs through the thin armor. And within the blink of an eye, Petronius collapsed dead.
The sheer sight of the general’s fall was too much to bear for Philomenus. Before Commodus could turn around, the centurion had sprinted off as if he were running from a fire. The emperor smeared Petronius’s blood onto his face, turning to valiantly face his surroundings like a lion asserting its territory.
Commodus didn’t know where the man known as “Philomenus” had gone, but he was too dizzy from this near-death experience to interrogate. He vowed to himself to punish that traitor appropriately…for now, though, the emperor fell to his knees and attempted to steady his breathing, so as not to black out from exertion.
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It was just a momentary fear, Philomenus told himself once he was far away from the stadium. He didn’t know what he was thinking, his legs pumping furiously as he ran out of the Colosseum. Rather, Philomenus did not even know if he was thinking in that moment.
Why would he run now, after thinking so long about how great things would be after Commodus was dead?
Marcus Aurelius would be disappointed, and so would his parents, but…perhaps Claudia would not be so angry. After all, wasn’t she the one who tried to dissuade him from his plan?
All he needed now was to get home before Commodus could send his men. Philomenus was not unaware of the treatment Maximus’s family received for Maximus’s insubordination. If not the last, his family would not be the next one in Commodus’s reign of terror.
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Thank the gods I sent Lucius home with Senator Falco as an escort. Commodus swallowed hard while he watched his nephew go to his chamber without a care in the world, knowing nothing about the attempt on his uncle’s life. He knew the prince wanted to become independent of his family, but Commodus of all people had just witnessed what happens when royals begin to let down their guard.
With a glare, the emperor ordered one of the Praetorians in the palace to bring his betrothed to him and then immediately lock the doors. His cold gaze burned into her skin as she carefully approached him and wiped the blood off his face.
Commodus’s inner demons convinced him that there was an equal chance of a surprise assassination attempt as there was of a deceitful bride-to-be. On any other day, he wouldn’t believe those voices. But this was no ordinary day - had he been careless, Rome would be left without a protector. And he would have left his children without a father.
Gripping her hand and digging his nails into her skin, Commodus ordered her in a shaky yet steely voice.
“Disrobe, now.”
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