I’m kinda scared to post this (even though I’ve turned off anon), I’m sorry if it’s crap or you don’t want me to post stuff.
I’m at work today but it’s a slow day so I started writing someting. Sorry. This is from a prompt that @pixierox101 sent me ages ago. I hope I haven’t screwed up your nice idea, thank you for sending it to me. x
It was like a ballet, watching them together. They moved in perfect synchrony, every move complementing the other in a dance to the death. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to. Decades of training, of suffering, had left them connected in a way that no one could break. They circled each other, back-to-back but aware of the other’s every move, ready to defend, to attack, to win.
They had their roles, each knowing their place on this mission. He was there to break, to destroy, to kill, to create mayhem and fear. She was there to infiltrate, to penetrate the unbreakable, to leave slow devastation in her wake, chaos that would insinuate itself into computer systems, into people’s minds. Each knew their role, and supported the other.
Those are pictures of the unassuming town of Centralia, Columbia County,Pennsylvania, US, which at one point was a nice enough place to live, with a population of over 1,000 residents.
Then the strip mine beneath Centralia caught fire, and the residents were evacuated. The fire is still burning…50 years later! The massive, smoldering hellblaze has opened up sinkholes, steam pits and carbon monoxide vents all over the town.
Centralia is considered the Silent Hill from reality, is burning from the inside out, as if it were sitting directly over the gates of hell. The similarities aren’t coincidental. While the Silent Hill movie was in production, the filmmakers actually visited Centralia for inspiration.
fluffy prompt: hannibal deliberately being sloppy during a murder so that will has to take care of him afterwards (bathe him, tend to his wounds, etc etc) :)))
“You have blood in your hair,” Will sighed, picking at the clumps of Hannibal’s hair dried stiff with dark blood. “I’m going to make you wear a shower cap next time.”
Hannibal laughed. “A bit of shampoo and it will be good as new.”
“Right. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“Actually,” Hannibal said, catching Will’s arm before he made to leave the room. “Could I bother you for a bit of assistance? I’m afraid I’ve hurt my shoulder.”
Will glared at Hannibal and couldn’t help but smile. “Right,” he said, following Hannibal to the bathroom.
Hannibal ran bathwater, sitting on the edge of the tub to test the temperature. After, Will watched him strip down, silently observing the lines of his muscles, the jut of his hip bones, the softness of his cock between his legs.
Blood was caked not only in his hair, but beneath his nails and in great streaks running down his neck and forearms. Had the Chesapeake Ripper been this messy, Jack Crawford would have caught him within a week.
Hannibal lowered himself into the tub, holding eye contact with Will all the while.
“Hands first,” Will said, fetching the nail brush from beneath the sink and perching on the edge of the tub. He took one of Hannibal’s hands into his lap and began the task of brushing the blood-dark lines from beneath his nails.
“Thank you for helping me,” Hannibal said. He watched Will work with dark, shining eyes.
“You’re welcome,” Will said, rinsing the brush clean and setting about scrubbing Hannibal’s other hand. Their fingers tangled together when Will finished and lowered it beneath the water.
Will moved to the floor, kneeling behind Hannibal and the tub. “Head back,” he said, filling a pitcher and wetting Hannibal’s hair. He shampooed Hannibal’s hair and worked it to a thick lather with fingers that went deep into his scalp.
Hannibal moaned. “That feels wonderful.”
Will smiled and blushed. He rinsed Hannibal’s hair and slathered it in conditioner and rinsed it again. When he was through, he returned to the tub’s edge. He wet a cloth and lathered it with soap and gently swiped the blood from Hannibal’s neck.
“Your shoulder isn’t hurt,” Will said flatly, focused on his task. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. Why I continue to give you this.”
“You know,” Hannibal said, eyes closed, face slack with pleasure, “as well as I.”
“Maybe,” Will said, dipping the bloodied cloth down into the bathwater. In the dim light, the water was depthless, save for the sheen of Hannibal’s pale skin below. “I guess I do.”
Will washed the blood from Hannibal’s arms, then turned the cloth to Hannibal’s face, swiping gently across his brow and around his eyes. Tracing his lips. Following the sharp line of his jaw and, finally, dropping the cloth into the water to let his fingers graze the stubble there.
“Get out of the tub,” Will said, caressing Hannibal’s face. “Don’t get dressed.”
Wordlessly, Hannibal rose from the tub and stood dripping on the mat. Will grabbed a towel from the closet and slowly, tediously, patted Hannibal dry. Down his arms, across his shoulders, gentle pressure with the cotton up and down his sternum. For his part, Hannibal ceased breathing, unable to speak.
Will knelt, drying lower, down Hannibal’s thighs, his calves, his feet, around to his backside. Finally, Will gently dried Hannibal’s soft cock, which was now growing ever so slightly hard. Will ignored it, ignoring too his own arousal growing, and got to his feet.
Will hung the towel on the rack and turned back to Hannibal. “Not tonight,” he said, gently, darkly.
Hannibal nodded, quiet, understanding, cheeks now red with blush. He walked from the room with no clothes on, and Will stopped him just outside the threshold.
“But soon,” Will said, taking Hannibal’s hand and brushing his knuckles with the whisper of a kiss. “Soon.”
Written for @leiascully xf writing challenge: forgiveness
Set after “The Truth”
It rains the first night they’re on the road. The raindrops
pelt angrily against the windshield and the wipers do their best to give Mulder
a clear view of what’s ahead. Their scratchy movement contributes to the
peculiar symphony they’re listening to; their silence, however, is the loudest
Things they want to talk about, really should talk about now
after all this time, they’re swallowed in kisses, in moans instead. Here in the
car, though, the distance between them seems inexpugnable. Mulder considers taking
her hand in his, the need to feel her soft skin against his is almost painful. But
he doesn’t reach over. Despite their desperate love making last night, he is
not sure where they stand. Their bodies remember each other flawlessly, as if
never having been apart. The distant look in her eyes, emotions playing on her
face he’s never seen before, they remind him that she lived through a hell he
did not walk through himself. Just like his hell is his very own. They’re both
burned, but their wounds no longer match.
And Mulder’s secret, he fears, will make it only worse.
Cause newer, rawer pain.
His eyes wander over to her small body, slumped in her seat,
her head leaning the window. She’s fast asleep, still trusting him enough to know
he’ll get them there, wherever, safely.
“Forgive me, Scully,” he mumbles, “I am so sorry.”
The words come easy now knowing she can’t hear them.
“Where are we?” Scully wakes up with the sun, her voice as
warm and gentle as the weather.
“We just passed Tucson.” Mulder adjusts his sunglasses, preparing
himself for her next question.
“Where are we going, Mulder? Mexico?”
“No.” She waits for him to elaborate, tell her, and he just
can’t find the words.
“I’m sorry, Scully. It’s just- let’s just drive, all right?”
She doesn’t answer; she leans her head against the window
again, her eyes trained on the bleak landscape surrounding them.
“Don’t be sorry, Mulder. We’re in this together, remember?”
He nods. But she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.
They eat at a shabby road side diner, just like in old times.
Mulder grins at her remembering mornings and afternoons spent together discussing
cases. He misses it. Scully smiles at him softly, nodding to herself as if she,
too, wishes they were still these people.
A few miles later Scully tells him to stop.
“You need sleep, Mulder.” She doesn’t offer to drive and he
knows she’s right. They check in as Mr. and Mrs. Hale paying in cash with
crumpled up bills. The room is clean enough, he figures. Silently he strips
down to his boxers as Scully shuts the blinds.
She watches him get comfortable in bed.
“You’re not joining me?”
“You should sleep, Mulder. I’ll be fine.”
“You know, I can behave myself. Come to bed, Scully. I’ll be
a gentleman.” She takes off her jacket, her blouse and finally her skirt. Mulder
keeps his eyes on her face, determined. His cock betrays him, throbbing gently,
tightening his shorts.
“But who says I can behave myself?” She whispers and Mulder
lets go, lets her take the reign for the moment. When he comes, her walls clamping
down on him, guilt surges through him, reminding him that he doesn’t deserve
this. When she kisses him after with a smile on her face, he tastes bitterness.
Her eyes begin to flutter and her breath evens out.
“I love you,” Mulder whispers into the room where the air
conditioner gently hums, almost like a lullaby, “I love you so much, Scully.”
There is no answer and he is glad.
“Forgive me, Scully. Forgive me.” And he, too, sleeps.
When Mulder changes the direction north, Scully shoots him a
look but stays quiet.
What did they used to talk about on these drives? Mulder
doesn’t remember. In his memory, they’re always talking, quarreling. Cases,
theories, ideas but nothing he could pinpoint. It was a time before his death,
his resurrection. Before there were new partners assigned to find him, to have
her back. A time when there was no baby boy; no regrets on either side why he isn’t
with them now.
“We could stop in Las Vegas, make it official.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but Scully’s silence and her
somber face tell him it was the wrong thing to say. He doesn’t apologize. Not
As the scenery changes, the mood in the car remains the
“I really am sorry, Scully. For all of this.” When she
doesn’t answer, he believes she’s asleep again. He doesn’t question her exhaustion,
doesn’t ask why.
“Stop apologizing, Mulder. There’s nothing to be sorry for,
nothing to forgive.”
“You heard me.”
“I did. It’s just- I sent you away, Mulder. To keep you safe
and to… if there’s anyone who should be sorry it should be-“
“No, Scully. Don’t. Just… don’t.”
Silence takes over after this and Mulder feels it deep
inside himself; the guilt manifesting itself inside, striking roots. You don’t
know, Scully. You don’t know.
She’ll find out soon and then… and then.
They arrive with the sunrise. Orange flames lick at the sky as
Mulder steers the car onto the graveled path.
“Where are we?” Scully’s voice is still thick with sleep.
She runs her hands through her hair automatically.
“Mulder, where are we?” He stops the car, the house still
small there in the distance. Mulder turns to Scully, who stares intently at him.
There have been moments like this before in their long partnership; Mulder
running off, leaving her with merely a sliver of the truth. Once she did it to
him, too. This, he knows, is a different betrayal. One she might not forgive
“We’re in Wyoming.” There’s no reaction on her face. She has
“Scully, I couldn’t, I-…” Mulder trails off; he can’t do
this. He starts the car again, Scully’s blue eyes burning into him, never once
looking anywhere but his face. It takes maybe another 20 seconds, 30 tops,
before the house comes into focus. Scully’s eyes leave him someone walked out
the door. Mulder slows down the car and it finally stops in clear sight.
“Mulder…” He doesn’t recognize the emotion in Scully’s
voice. He listens to the click of her seat belt, the soft close of the car door
as she steps out. The woman on the porch holds her baby tightly, fastening her
Mulder takes a deep breath. He couldn’t have told her. He
doesn’t have the words for it. Opening the car door, soft air hits him, reminds
him of a place somewhere, of something he can’t put his fingers on. The baby
kicks gently, like happy children do when they’re excited, and Mulder looks at
his son for the first time in over a year.
“Mulder, why…” Scully’s voice breaks.
“Forgive me, Scully.” He pleads.
He needs her to forgive him because he can’t let go, can’t
forgive himself and partly her, for giving up. For giving up their son.
“We’re taking our son home.” He says, determination in his voice.
anonymous asked:COULD WE DO DADDY KINK EISUKE AND FEMALE READER SCENARIO? If not, a really jealous and sexually frustrated Eisuke please 😍😍 fluff at the end please ❤❤ (too much eisuke angst on this blog 😂😂)
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Fandom: Kissed By The Baddest Bidder Category: Smut Character: Eisuke the Great Notes: This is as fluffy as it ever will get @hobo4lyfe11 & @midorismiles
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This is the life you have chosen, the wife of Eisuke Inchinomiya comes with the regular lonesome nights in empty bed or entertaining guests who you have to use your day offs remembering their names, occupations and hobbies.
You know he is working himself harder after the fiesta with Frank, trying to repair the image of the Tres Spades Hotel and the best you’d do is keep quiet and make sure he gets his coffees exactly when he needs them.
He assures you that you have nothing to worry about and should wipe that gloomy face off the screen during his video calls. But life without him isn’t exactly ideal, though working day in and day out with no sarcasm is satisfying at the beginning till the feeling of loneliness creep in each night you return to his suite with no one to share your days with- Was this how Eisuke feel all these years? How did he cope?
You miss him.
His scent, lack of humor, his demanding tone and of course his sexy naked flesh. Would the women he meet during business trips steal him away from you? Given how plain you are compare to his exes, confidence which comes so naturally to him is still one thing you struggle with.
Staring into the mirror, you turn around a few times, wondering if he’d like this new red lace set of lingerie then the sound of his personalized ringtone has snapped you out of daze.
“Will you be home soon?” You ask as you lay down on the large bed, “it’s been months and …. I miss you, Eisuke.” Taking up both sides of the empty bed, you wait for his response. Craving his touch, his lips on yours as he would make you into a whimpering mess. His presence would make you want to obey, his every word that send you to cloud nine.
“You sound like you need something?” You’d already see Eisuke’s smirk while the tone of voice change, he knows exactly what it is but, he wants you to tell him yourself, admit your desire and long for his touches.
“…. I…. want … you…” Your voice barely come out, more like a whimper and you could’ve sworn you hear his dark chuckle as you plea. “You know .. I want you…”
“What exactly do you want?”
This wouldn’t be your first phone sex with Eisuke but it always ends up with him coming home and punish you for being naughty while full well knowing that he misses and craves you just as much but you are the only one who has to admit it.
So this time you decide it’s your turn to make a difference, pushing the thought of consequences and punishment aside. You switch it to video call and grin when he accepts, watching his signature smirks that you miss so terribly.
“Are you going to punish me for being needy?”
Biting your bottom lip with that cocky smirk, you convince yourself one last time that it isn’t a bad idea- how bad could it be, making Eisuke jealous right?
It’s now or never.
Pressing the record button without Eisuke’s knowledge, the rest of the words slip casually from your lips. “Daddy… ”
[Throne of Glass] [Elide x Lorcan] [W.I.P.] Chapter Word Count: 2298 words
Summary: Set after Empire of Storms, Elide Lochan and Lorcan Salvaterre are traveling with Rowan and Gavriel in search of Queen Aelin. Will Elide ever be able to forgive Lorcan for betraying her and her Queen? Where will they go next?
Part I: The Search - Chs. 1-8 Part II: The Journey - Chs. 9-??? Part III: The Mission
Lorcan was surprised at how much it had hurt after
Elide ignored him and sidestepped him for the witch Asterin, back when they
were on the shores of the Stone Marshes. And then she had barely spoken to him
after he, Gavriel, and Rowan traveled in search of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.
He knew he deserved it, knew he deserved it when Elide
cursed him with her hateful words, and then later he had been stripped of his
blood oath without honor. Did she hate him? He shuddered at the thought. He had
only meant to protect her, and yet Maeve had used her like a pawn against the weakened
fire–queen, Aelin Galathynius. Lorcan shook his head to try and clear his
It had only been a few days since they had left in
search of Aelin. Rowan was determined to find her, but with each passing day he
grew more and more tense… And the hollow look in his eyes appeared more often.
The closest Lorcan had come to experiencing Rowan’s pain was when he saw Queen
Maeve standing with Elide, who was being held by a Fae warrior with a knife to
her slim throat. His heart had stopped, and he bit back the immediate urge to
attack his Queen, the sovereign he had still been sworn to.
And now… He knew he no longer loved her, not anymore,
not since Maeve threatened to have Elide whipped by Cairn and then made Elide
watch as Cairn whipped the tattered queen. Not after Maeve commanded him to be
still and silent. And then stripped
him of his blood oath without honor. Lorcan swore under his breath, his face
darkening. He splashed cold water onto his face and shook the droplets off.
Lorcan and Elide were currently resting at an inn in a
small town on their way to Wendlyn, the continent west of Erilea. Along with
Rowan and Gavriel, they had all thoroughly discussed all of the places Maeve
could take Aelin. Rowan and Gavriel were out in their shifted forms,
desperately searching for whispers in the wind, for any hint or sign of Maeve
or where her boat was. Aelin could be anywhere in Erilea or Wendlyn, although
they all agreed it was likely Maeve would show up in Doranelle eventually,
especially because Lorcan was banned from
Elide was downstairs gossiping; they had been hopping
from town to town for the past few days in search of information, and Elide was
still giving him the cold shoulder. She spoke to him only when necessary, and
whenever he tried to apologize, she quickly excused herself and often went to
ask Gavriel a question if he was around, or sat by him for warmth on cold
nights. Lorcan would instinctively bare his teeth, and Gavriel would always
pretend he didn’t notice the male aggression. He would turn his back as if to
say, You deserve it. Suffer the consequences
patiently.She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.
Elide’s laughter floated up the stairs, and Lorcan was
reminded that his task was to make sure she was safe. Who knew where King
Erawan or her loathsome uncle Vernon had sent men? They had infiltrated the
Kingdom of Adarlan so easily. He pulled on a shirt and schooled his expression
into neutrality while he headed downstairs, where Elide was chatting with a
young couple at a table. He slid next to her wordlessly, and the couple’s eyes
widened as they took in his appearance. Lorcan bowed his head slightly to seem
less threatening, like Elide had said.
“Oh! Logan! It’s rude if you don’t introduce
yourself,” Elide feigned surprise and chastised him teasingly, while
batting her eyelashes. Nice that she was still able to act so friendly towards
him. He resisted the urge to bare his teeth at her and drag her up the stairs
so they could talk about her behavior.
“Hello, my name is Logan.” He inclined his
head slightly and smiled. Lorcan hated acting, but they had all agreed that it
was best not to use their real names, since enemy ears could be anywhere. Both
the man and woman appeared unremarkable, perhaps townspeople looking for news
from outsiders, he surmised.
“Logan, this is Nat and Linsy. We were just
chatting about the awful weather we’ve been having and when the rain’s supposed
to stop.” It was dreadful out. It had been raining nonstop and traveling
all day in the rain was too miserable. Elide had wrung her dress out on the
doorstep of the inn when they first arrived.
“Logan is my fiancé,” Elide continued to
explain, casually bringing her hands above the table so that the couple could
see them. She waggled her left hand. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a ring
yet because we’ve been traveling a lot and I don’t want to lose it or attract
thieves.” Elide winked at him. Logan struggled to keep his face neutral
and tried to smile. Since the incident on the beach, Elide had demoted him from
husband to fiancé.
Linsy nodded knowingly, tucking a stray strand of hair
behind her ear. She briefly looked around and then lowered her voice and said,
“We’ve heard there’s been a lot of activity in– in towns and cities
Elide opened her mouth to reply, hope rising in her
eyes at the thought of any new information, anything that could point them in
the correct direction. Before she could say anything, Lorcan smoothly replied,
“Linsy, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak to my fiancée
For a second, Elide narrowed her eyes at him before
smoothing out the lines on her face and excusing herself. The couple seemed
taken aback, but Elide apologized and said she would be right back. Lorcan was
almost up the stairs when he realized he should be waiting for Elide. He held
out his hand to her and tried to smile genuinely.
He wondered how badly he had failed because Elide
rolled her eyes and hissed at him, “This better be important.” She
impatiently tugged on his hand as she climbed the stairs and Lorcan followed.
As soon as they were out of eyesight, she tried to tug her hand away. Lorcan’s
jaw twitched but he let her go.
“Elide, please. Just come to my room for a
moment. I only want to talk,” Lorcan pleaded. He was reduced to pleading.
Begging for her to pay attention to him and not look at him with those cold
eyes. Lorcan silently cursed under his breath.
Elide sucked in a breath and looked at him. Her eyes
seemed to soften slightly, but her voice was low and rough when she said,
“Fine. But be quick.”
Lorcan didn’t even know what he was going to say. He
quickly led her to his room and locked the door behind them so no one would
catch them unaware. Elide was taking in the appearance of his room and his
sparse belongings. They all had sparse belongings, since none of them had a
Elide perched herself on the end of his bed. And
looked at him expectantly.
Heat rushed through him. He wanted to push her
delicate body down onto the bed, pin her pale arms above her head and see if
her blood sang, too. He wanted to see her dark hair splay across his bed, watch
her chest rise as she breathed. He was halfway to the bed when he realized he
was still daydreaming. Lorcan growled under his breath and hoped his thoughts
hadn’t been revealed. She was still angry with him, so he would be angry too.
“Fiancé?” Lorcan hissed. It was the only
thing he could think to say.
“I didn’t think you would mind. You were so
displeased when I told you to pretend to be my husband when we were traveling
with the carnival.” Her eyes dared him to deny what she just said. He
didn’t deny it.
“You needed me to protect you, you said a brother wouldn’t be
enough,” Lorcan replied. Elide’s eyes flashed.
“Well, I don’t need you to protect me anymore.
Manon taught me how to protect myself.” Elide stood up and lifted her chin
defiantly. “You don’t even have to watch me anymore. Just go away, go do
whatever it is you want to do. I’m sure there are plenty of women who would be
happy to warm your bed.” Elide strode to the door to leave.
Lorcan grabbed her wrist and pinned it against the
door firmly in a flash. Gods, she was so aggravating. He
could smell her cinnamon–and–elderberries scent, and his eyes flicked to the tendrils
of hair that had wound their way out of the bun on her head. His nostrils
Fear briefly flashed through Elide’s eyes, before
fierce anger replaced it. “Let me go,” she hissed, struggling to pull
her wrist away. Her other hand went to push his chest but he caught that wrist
too, and pushed her carefully against the door. She felt so gods–damned breakable.
He hadn’t said what he needed to say, hadn’t said anything at all but he
couldn’t let her go. He didn’t know what his feelings were or how he felt but
he knew he needed to say something, anything. Maybe it was because he was no
longer under the blood oath that he felt all these strange emotions, that he couldn’t
sort out the turmoil in his heart. Her chest was heaving against him, such a
“Elide, I am sorry.” Before he could be
distracted by her rosebud lips and anything else, he opened his mouth and words
tumbled out. “I was foolish, so foolish. I thought– I thought we were
being attacked and that Maeve would save you–”
“Why would you think that? You betrayed her
first!” She hissed at him, still struggling against his hold. His grip
loosened slightly. She avoided his gaze as a hint of color creeped up her
cheekbones. He noticed how close he was standing to her, and he took a small
step back, relaxing his grip.
“Tell me, Elide, tell me what I have to do so
that you won’t hate me. Tell me how I can make this better,” Lorcan said,
his voice low. Pleading again. “After Maeve stripped me of the blood oath,
I’ve been…” He struggled to find the pitiful, pathetic words. Lost. He had
felt lost. He was lost, although he couldn’t force himself to say it. Lorcan’s
onyx eyes searched hers, searching for something other than the anger and
hatred he saw in them whenever she looked at him after he had gotten Aelin
captured. He had put them all into this situation, after all the armies Aelin
had called to her aid.
Elide had understood without hearing Lorcan finish his
thought. She had felt the vast well of grief and self–loathing open up within
him as he searched her eyes. She could feel his regret, and she hated herself
for pitying him. For wanting to open up to him and wanting him to open up to her.
But gods–damned Lorcan had gotten her queen captured, and as much as she wanted
to forgive him, it wasn’t time.
And he had still protected her these past few days, even though she had been
ignoring his sorry arse.
“Lorcan, I just need… time.” Elide licked
her lips and wriggled her right wrist free from his grip, looping a strand of
dark brown hair behind her ear. “With everything that happened on the
beach… I thought you were going to die. I was ready to die, with you, for you,
all I know is I couldn’t bear to watch. And I thought… I thought you felt the
same towards me.” Elide swallowed. She hadn’t meant to sound so hurt.
Lorcan’s eyes flickered to the scar on her arm, and
she saw the muscles in his jaw clench tightly.
“I will never willingly put you in harm’s
way.” Lorcan’s voice was rough as he gently tipped her chin forward and
met her gaze. “Never again. That was the blessing Mae- she gave me.”
Elide flinched slightly when Lorcan started to say Maeve’s name again. The hurt
he saw in her eyes was unbearable, and he knew it was all his fault. It was his
fault for thinking he knew better, thinking he was anything but the naïve fool
that Maeve had exposed him to be.
Elide swallowed again. “I should go now.” In
a flash, she slipped out the door. He could hear her breathing on the other
side, and then she quietly went upstairs.
Blood was roaring in his ears, pounding in Lorcan’s
head. He was angry at himself for being such an idiot, for trusting ruttingMaeve. He would gut her himself for using Elide as a negotiation
tool and for stripping him of the blood oath so cruelly after centuries of
being her faithful slave. Lorcan wanted to destroy something. He occasionally
snarled as he paced the floor for a full minute, trying to calm himself, to
keep himself from crumbling everything to dust. The inn would just be kindling,
and he didn’t want to pay for damages.
He slung on a jacket to hide his weapons from view and was halfway out
the door when he heard a soft cry of pain from upstairs. Gods–damn it, he was
such an idiot. In his blind rage, he hadn’t thought to be vigilant, had thought
that pulling his magic away from Elide was respectful. Dark magic spread from
Lorcan in every direction as he headed up the stairs. He should have known
better, he should have known that he couldn’t leave that gods–damned, infuriatingly breakable woman alone by herself.
Warnings: Canon Divergence, smut (mostly implied in this chapter), Language, NSFW (ALSO - some Beth hate. Deal with it or don’t read it), Violence, Character Death(s)
Plot: Circa Season 4 - So there are some strong similarities to stories from the show, elements of season 4 from early and later in the season. Not all plot points used, but fill in the blanks accordingly… MAJOR Canon Divergence… no direct dialogue from the show.
Word Count: 8242
“He thinks I’m pregnant,” you sighed and steadied yourself against the wave of nausea that rolled over you.
“What?!” her eyes were big, a grin threatening on her lips. “Seriously?!”
“Shhh, Maggie… please,” you begged her, “I haven’t taken the test yet. But…”
“But you are. You know you are!” she playfully smacked your shoulder, but when she noticed the expression you carried, she toned down her response. “You’re thinkin’ bout the boys, right?”
You nodded. The boys… your boys that had been lost at the beginning of it all. The ones that were taken from you because the last man you trusted had been misguided.
“Oh, Y/N. I’m sorry, I know this can’t be easy.” Maggie moved to hug you, but you put up a hand to stop her.
“It’s ok, really. Right now, there’s more important things happenin’. This can wait… long as I know I don’t have that,” you pointed towards the prison, “I’m ok.”
Maggie nodded and picked up the bucket. She refused to let you help her carry the rest of the way, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that you had Maggie in your corner.
“Be safe, and stay with Maggie, ok? Be sure to keep a knife and gun on ya, you don’t wanna get caught and not be ready,” Daryl was nervous. He was never usually nervous leaving for a run, but this was different. His group was going out far for meds, and there was no way of knowing what kind of trouble they were walking into or when they would be back.
Michonne and Bob were loading the car, while you and Daryl said your goodbyes. Tyrese finally arrived and they were ready to go.
“I know, I got this… Maggie and I got this. Plus, Glenn, Carol and Rick are here, so is Hershel. Just go get what they need and get back,” your hand absentmindedly went to your stomach. Daryl didn’t notice, too fixated on making sure you were prepared to defend yourself.
“Ready Daryl?” Tyrese asked before getting in the car.
“Yeah, one second,” Daryl turned back to you. “Remember what I said last night?”
“Maybe I did just write my vows,” Alex says, and it comes out lower than she’d intended.
Sexier than she’d intended.
But she certainly doesn’t mind the effect it seems to have on Maggie.
Maggie, who bites her lip and holds her breath and looks at Alex like she needs her, like she needs to be loved, like she needs to be adored, like she needs to be…
“Do you want me to show you? How much I cherish you?” Alex asks, keeping her voice deliberately soft but casual, this time. Because she’s not trying to seduce Maggie if Maggie isn’t trying to be seduced. She wants to offer, not push. She wants to give, not impose.
“Please?” Maggie asks, and Alex doesn’t hesitate.
She scoops her into her arms and she carries her from the couch to the bed, kissing her mouth gently the whole way there.
“You sure? We can cuddle, you can cry more, we can – “
“Danvers. Make love to me. If you want. Please?” Maggie’s voice is ragged and her voice is wrecked, and Alex gulps, because she knows it’s from raw want, raw need, not sorrow, not grief.
“Always, baby,” Alex assures, and licks her lips as her eyes survey Maggie’s body. “Can I undress you?” she asks, and Maggie sits up in response.
Alex’s eyes never leave Maggie’s face as Maggie raises her arms above her head so Alex can pull off her shirt. As she reaches behind her and undoes her bra with one try.
They both grin at that, Maggie teasingly, Alex smugly.
Alex kisses her nose. Maggie giggles.
Alex licks her lips. Maggie bites hers.
“Lay back for me, Maggie,” Alex prays, and Maggie responds, laying back and lifting her hips immediately so Alex can tug off her pants, her underwear.
And as many times as Alex has seen her naked, she still gasps softly when she takes in the sight.
“You,” she breathes, kneeling between Maggie’s legs and pulling off her socks, kissing her toes and her ankles and the delicate bones and veins of her feet.
“Are,” she whispers as Maggie’s breath hitches, as she kisses her way up Maggie’s shins, spending extra time on her knees, on the childhood scars accumulated there, from jumping off of swings and leaping down from trees, from getting pushed in the schoolyard and getting shoved on the dirt road.
“Absolutely,” Alex licks and nips her way up Maggie’s thighs, paying special attention to the places that make Maggie tug at her hair, that make her whine and start to writhe.
“Gorgeous,” Alex presses kisses up from Maggie’s hip bones up the sides of her waist, to her navel, up her ribcage, between her breasts, on her nipples.
“I want to feel your skin on mine,” Maggie whispers as Alex finally brings her mouth up to meet hers again, as she kisses her lips, her chin, her cheeks, her temples, her eyes, her forehead, her dimples.
Alex hops off the bed lightly, silently, and strips without a sound, without once taking her eyes away from Maggie’s.
When she crawls back onto the bed – back onto her fiancee – they both gasp at the contact, at the rush, at the warmth. At the intimacy.
“Let me worship you,” Alex rasps softly, and it’s both a statement and a question.
The statement makes Maggie moan gently, and the question makes her nod with ragged breath and eager eyes.
So Alex continues kissing her way up and down Maggie’s body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every centimeter of her skin, to every scar and every stretch mark, to every hair and to every callous.
“I am so in love with you,” Alex murmurs with her tongue between Maggie’s legs, and Maggie is quieter than she normally is when Alex licks her, but this feels too intimate for screaming, too emotional for yelping. Her gasps and her pants and her muted pleas fill Alex’s ears and soul all the same.
“Do you want me inside you?” she asks, and when all Maggie can do is whimper Alex’s name, she pulls away slightly, wiping her mouth and her chin on her bare shoulder.
“Babe, do you need to stop? We can stop, sweetie – “
“My absolute pleasure, baby,” Alex kisses her inner thighs tenderly before slipping her tongue inside her, before bringing her tongue to pressure her clit as she slips one, then two, then – at Maggie’s softly frantic, entirely wrecked pleading – a third finger deep inside her.
“I love you,” she whispers into her clit, just as their eyes lock, just as she moves her fingers just so inside her, just as her own orgasm spills over from the pressure she’s getting from grinding down into Maggie’s knee.
She feels Maggie’s climax cascading through her body, and watching it from between her legs is like watching the sunset over the ocean, but better, better, god, god, so infinitely better.
“I love you, Alex,” Maggie prays as she comes, and Alex greets it with a long stream of her own “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you”s.
“Forever,” they breathe at the same time as Alex crawls up toward her, both of them shifting blearily so they can hold each other, stay close to each other, breathe the same breath in the same rhythm in the same heartbeat.
I can just imagine Tex and Strip watching Cruz pull that stunt in Florida. Like they’re both there to scout for new talent, and suddenly she just flips over one of the fastest cars to ever lay tire on that track.
Cruz: *does the thing*
Tex & Strip: *stunned silence*
Tex: “Did you see that?”
Strip: *still silent*
Tex: “Did she just - ”
Strip: *interrupting* “That’s the one. We have to have her.”
Tex: “Do we even know who - ”
Strip: “Did you recognize that move? That was a Hudson Hornet move!”
Tex: “How do you know - “
Strip: “Come on, let’s get over there. You’re offerin’ her the sponsorship. I will if you don’t.” *starts to drive away*
Total word count:
-> Chapter 7 word count: 3867
Chapter 7 summary:
Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan)- a wordless, yet meaningful look between two people who both desire to initiate something, but both are too scared to initiate themselves
Only five more chapters to go after this one! Can you believe we’re this far into the story already?
I wrote this whole chapter in one night so I’m sorry if its not cohesive ^^; Also, there might not be a chapter next week? Maybe? I’m not a hundred percent sure yet, it depends on what happens with my tests. If I have to push it back a week I’ll make sure to leave a note somewhere on my tumblr. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter! This is the last semi-fluffy chapter for the rest of the story, by the way.
Thank you in advance for reading!
“How’s that list going?”
Gon glanced over his shoulder, brow puckering. “Huh?”
“Your list,” Killua repeated. He dug the heel of his sneaker into the dirt and pushed himself forward. “Don’t tell me you can’t remember. I know you’re forgetful, Gon, but c’mon. I’m hurt.”
Gon stuck out his tongue. “I didn’t forget! I just…”
“You just-” Killua grunted as he threw his leg over a fallen tree trunk, “- what, exactly?”
“I ran out of people to add to the list,” Gon admitted.
Killua took a second to catch his breath, looking over at his best friend. Gon’s face was a blotchy mess and shone with a layer of sweat. But the way his hair flopped over, falling into bright gold-brown eyes, was enough to make Killua’s heart lurch.
He abruptly turned away, ears burning. It should be illegal for Gon to look so damn good like that- all disheveled and hot and-
“Killua? Are you oka-”
“Fine!” Killua straightened up and started the long and laborious trek the hill again. He could feel Gon’s worried stare digging into the back of his head but he ignored it. They’d been over this on the drive here; Killua could spend one day out in the wilderness with his best friend. The marigolds inside his chest wouldn’t stop him from enjoying the first warm day of spring.
Written for @iwantthedean‘s 2 Prompt 1 Shot Challenge. The prompt she choose for me was:
“Show me your scars.”
“But…why?” she asks quizzically.
“I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn’t there,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.
Past Dean x Meredith OC, Past Meredith x Derek OC, TJ OC
Word Count: 3105
WARNINGS: Domestic abuse (not Dean), swearing, blood - Please, if you find this triggering in any way, I will not be offended if you choose to skip it.
A/N: A good chunk of this is a flashback.
Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Much thanks to my little sister, @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms for her all around amazing-ness and much needed help with getting this one started (think of it as literary constipation). Also thank you to @paintrider13-blog for well, just being her.
Where you left off: Your lonely side got the best of
you, and went with her. Feeling a different kind of happiness, when around her.
Seeing how there were more than fifty shops in the shopping mall, you imagined
how you had to go through them all if Jessica didn’t find anything she liked.
“This… is going to be a long day…” You thought to yourself.
“Y/N? How about this one?” Jessica asked.
It was probably
the fifth dress she has tried on, and you were about to lose your soul in it
“I’m going to say it again… You haven’t picked
a dress that didn’t look good on you.” You answered, while looking around in the shop.
“You’re just like a guy, you ‘don’t care’. I
needed a girl’s opinion, could you please help?” She pleaded, while folding her hands together,
“Fine. But I’m starving, so could we please
hurry?” You said,
while rubbing your stomach.
“There are still more shops we need to go to.
How about this, you tell me your honest opinion and then we will go eat? After
eating we can shop some more, I need to find some lingerie as well.” She said, while smirking at you.
“Deal. Now, give me a twirl.” You smiled back, while spinning with
your hand to tell her to dance.